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Grunting and wheezing, Ahastar stumbles through the muddy leftovers of what once was a well fortified landside shore, the raptor holding on tightly to his shotgun - the zombies of former furries still tight on the heels of him and his three co-survivors, the undead beasts screeching and gurgling menacingly! Still, the saurian drags himself onwards, his muscles burning from exhaustion - and indeed, Ahastar can already make out the ship waiting at the river, its air horn blowing loudly to tell the survivors where to go! For one brief moment, the saurian allows himself to grin a smirk of victory - he and the others made it! There is nothing left in sight that could prevent the quartet of runaways from reaching their goal now, not as heavily armed as they are; Ahastar's cheerfulness is short-lived though, when all out of a sudden - and out of nowhere - he feels a slim, slender weight landing down on his shoulder.

The raptor gazes over - and his soul and body instantly freeze with horror! Ahastar hasn't seen her for a few weeks of running now, but of course, the deinonychus instantly remembers her sight, her appearance, her... behaviour. It is her! That Stalker! That vicious, sadistic infection-dragoness, barely the size of a raven, having taken flight and come to a rest on his body now. "Wait! WAIT, HELP ME!", Ahastar screams out towards his fellow survivors, and indeed, Mika, a tough as nails shark girl, briefly turns around with pity in her eyes. She is dragged along by Nikael, a burly Bengal tiger, though: "Forget him", he growls out, "He is a Stalker doormat, nothing you can do!" And just like that, his fellow "party members" are gone around the corner. Yet that is not the most worrisome sign of things to come: The ZOMBIES are leaving, too! Ahastar can only assume it is because they know there will be nothing left for them...

The Stalker has indeed been following you for quite some time now. You occasionally get a glance of her through the trees, or hear that unforgettable, shrill cry echoing nearby. But the zombie never makes herself too obvious, always staying just far enough out of sight that you can't attack her, but never far enough away that you could forget what happened to you. Indeed, even in your dreams you're occasionally given the "treat" of seeing those stained soles battering your body into the ground, of reliving that moment of torment you'd suffered. But now, as your other survivors are making their way to freedom, you're once again confronted with the very creature who you'd feared for most of the last month, meeting you again like an old, completely unwanted friend.

Even if you try to run, it's quite difficult. You're sore from all the injuries you've sustained already on this arduous journey. The soft, muddy ground gives poor traction, making it difficult to get up to meaningful speed without slipping. And things are getting ever-more-quiet around you as everyone seems to leave. You're alone, with the Stalker. She just waits on your shoulder for a moment, until the half-sized zombie leaps off you and looks you in the eyes. A familiar and unpleasant sense of vertigo washes over you and, within seconds, you're now looking up at that creature and she's looking down at you with a grin of pure, sadistic delight. She kicks at your front before you have a chance to react, bruising your ribs and sending you sprawling onto your back in the muddy ground. She takes her time walking forward, and each step is accompanied by a wet squelching of mud until the accursed creature stands right over you, looming like a four-story building.

There's a brief pause as the Stalker allows you to just take in your position. You're half-buried in thick mud. There's almost no sound except for a light rain beginning to fall and the distant sounds of the boat leaving the dock. It's hard to look around, but you can only see your weapons lying a few feet away, too large for you to wield, and the seemingly giant Stalker towering above you. You're brought out of that as the zombie moves her foot over and crushes your right knee beneath the ball of her right foot, growling in delight as the bones crunch and splinter.

Of course Ahastar remembers, he always had - ever since that fateful day he has nightmares of those giant, off-white, dirt-and-blood-riddled soles, nightmares of being down on the floor and trampoline-jumped around on, puking his guts out of every single hole in his boy beneath your heels, your toes, your balls... It is no wonder he turns almost completely white again despite his albino nature, the raptor not even noticing how eerily quiet everything suddenly has gotten - strange and alarming as it is, the zombies and the last few glimmers of life that make up this terrifying world seem to require barely a moment to appear or disappear - and sure enough, one heartbeat later, it is just that raptor and the creature from his darkest dreams. He eyes you. You eye him. It is almost like a duel of gazes, his barely hidden horrified one meeting your sadistic with delight peer, until suddenly, Ahastar makes his move! The raptor reaches for his shotgun, tries to rip it high with a loud, grunting roaaarrrrr, tries to aim for your face, but... you are gone. And one moment later, so is his perspective on life!

The saurian can't believe just how quickly this disgusting shrinking spit-ray works, reducing his body to barely the size of a little mouse, the remainder of his body still briefly visible as a fog of heat all over his now tiny head, before that mist, too, wafts away in the upcoming wind. That is the last moment the raptor has before that mind-numbing vertigo grabs him fully, forcing him to turn his muzzle to the side and heedlessly vomit! It appears you don't intend to allow him even that moment of privacy though: Your kicking foot SLAMS into his flank like a barely constrained freight train, smacking him over the muddy floor in six, seven, eight wild flips before his body comes to a hyperventilating, aaaaching rest. Grooooaaning, Ahastar wipes the mud and rain off of his face, looking up high. And higher. And ever higher... to see you, just staring down at him for now. There is a nearly infinite amount of self-satisfaction on your wild, cruel face - yet that expression is not long for the raptor to make out before you lift one of these massive feet, and Ahastar feels his knee all but IMPLODING under your stomp! "OUUAARRGHHHH!"

You certainly put forth your best effort to find and shoot down that Stalker before she has her way with you, but there's no way you're fast enough on your own. Had any of the other survivors stayed around an extra two minutes and fired a shot at her, the Stalker might well have left you alone, freeing you from that torment. Instead, you aim and find only empty air, while the dragon-like beast has simply lept out of the way. And now that you're under the influence of the Stalker's size-altering toxin, and there's nobody to save you, it's not a question of if you're going to die, but how quickly. That creature takes a few moments to stroke over your injured leg, grinning oh-so-broadly at the pained expressions you make as you're brutally maimed beneath a being that can't weigh more than ten kilograms.

Now that the Stalker is satisfied that you're not going to try crawling away, thanks to the injury inflicted upon your leg, the pale being moves around you, walking in circles, always staying within one step of simply bringing one of those disgusting paws down upon you, but never actually doing so. You see those talons digging into the ground with ease, ripping up faint splashes of mud that splatter upon your hide. You occasionally get a glimpse of her sole, and see that you won't even be the first thing she's trampled upon today, given the slightly-fresher looking stain and fragments of what looks eerily like a leg bone pressed against her heel. This continues on for a few minutes until the Stalker decides to advance to more damaging techniques.

The Stalker doesn't even break her stride as she moves to start trampling you. One moment, you see her walking down your left side, so close her foot almost brushes your arm. The next, you feel her stepping onto your legs and treating your body like a catwalk! You're under the full weight of the Stalker now as she moves both feet onto your body, balancing atop it for a few long moments. You're practically buried in the mud, with her mass working you just a bit deeper into the muck. Her weight shifts back and forth, alternately pressing your head and chest with her toes and ball of her foot, then shifts back to grind against your lower body, with those toe-talons threatening your cloaca and her heel slowly working your own feet into mere dust.

By all the great lizard gods hopefully still waiting in the heavons, Ahastar remembers that disturbing expression of yours, far up there on your towering, leering muzzle, and your body language, too - all of it is transporting one message even without you opening that razor-fanged muzzle, or peering at him with your zombie-shimmering eyes: You are just one moment away from a screeching orgasm from the sheer idea of what you are going to do to him! It is a grizzly sight to behold for Ahastar, and one he tries to evade, but with his knee stomped to proto-mush, his mind numbed by that disgusting shrinking poison that is still sending his stomach into heaping cramps, and even the mud of the soil beneath us appearing to aid you in your atrocities by providing sticky-glue qualities, it is impossible! In fact, that filth is so thick and rich it almost - almost - manages to cover up the absolutely *flat* remains of your former victims of the day hammered into your sole.

Ahastar is in the middle of beholding his crushed to nothing predecessor's bones pulverized against your heel, when all out of a sudden, your other foot utterly *BURIES* him under its dirty sole, legs, tail, groin, stomach, everything! The raptor's entire body just beennndsssssss up from insane pressure, forced to all but keel and hug over the flank of your first foot, the saurian just about to open his mouth and let out a skeleton-shattering screech or puke his guts out, not even Ahastar being fully sure which - but the moment he opens his jaws, your other city-wrecker of a reptilian clawfoot comes to trample his upper body into nothing but mud-hell! There is a deep, squelching sound of the murk surrounding the raptor's skull, before his ears are filled with the crunching, cracking strain of his own ribs under your broad balls and toes and simply just WAY too much sole-flesh!

The Stalker seems to have you exactly where she wants you: at the tender mercies of those brutal feet. At first she simply moves her weight back and forth, but after a few moments she starts actually lifting her feet and begins to properly trample you. You'd stick to her soles if not for the weight of her other foot bearing down upon your body, ensuring that the rest of your form is firmly trapped against the ground. Your legs are nearly pulled out of joint as she lifts her right foot off your lower body, before it comes down once again. As it stomps down, her talons graze your thighs and draw blood, but even that is soon lost in the mix of other filth around you. Then, her left foot raises, and you can actually see what has become of you.

You get a brief glance of your lower body, with her right foot still firmly trapping it in the mud. The pain is arcing through every nerve in your form, almost burning from the pressure she places upon you. Even your torso is already bruised, marked with a pattern awfully similar to that of the Stalker's feet. She leaves that foot over your head for a moment; dripping mud reminds of you of where you are and what is about to happen to you. The wait is at once far too long and not long enough; you almost find yourself wishing she'd just get it over with, an argument that fights against your survival instinct and leaves you rather muddled from it all.

All those thoughts are quickly obliterated as her foot comes down, bashing against your snout with the violent force of a falling tree. Several teeth are broken free in your mouth. Your jaw comes awfully close to breaking. Your chest nearly caves in, but it is 'safe' beneath the arch of her foot, even as her heel digs into your stomach, forcing much of the air from your lungs, if not causing you to spill your lunch. Internal injuries are mounting and you're starting to bleed out, but it still is going to take a long time for these to finish you off.

"HNGHRRRGNNGGHHH!" - that is about all a raptor in his position manages to let out with his face and throat and chest and stomach (and arms) full of one of your crushing feet, the saurian struggling terribly in order to get away from these fucking dangerous footclaws being way too close to comfort around his head. Or at least where Ahastar thinks his head is right now, for all he can see is the darkness of your sole and the mud surrounding his murk-imbedded muzzle! Still, it is a statement well warranted the moment the raptor has to feel you start trampling him in earnest now, and celebrating that new, brutal move by lifting up high the leg/tail/hip/stomach/cloaca-decimating first foot of yours, of course pressing your entire 10 kilogram tonnage down on the raptor's upper form in the process, and nearly smashing everything flat! Just the way it feels when you let your foot RUSH down to the floor again, stomping the saurian's lower self all but seethrough into the floor, doubtlessly shaving quite a few numbers off of his remarkable will to life... not to mention most of his gender, too.

For a creature of your (now) tremendous size and (now) staggering weight to perform a highly elaborate trample-technique like this perfectly aligned one-two-foot, on the spot stomping, you probably have to achieve a considerable degree of balance - and indeed, after your toe has peeled out of his face with a loud, resounding SLOOUUURRRRPPPPP, and his face has been cleaned somewhat off of mud, and his eyes spilled somewhat free, and enough blood in his brain returning for him to see colours and depth, AND the saurian managing to unlock his gaze from your punishing sole hovering higher and ever higher from his muzzle like a titanic executioner's hammer, the first thing he sees is you standing tall and mighty, arms and wings spread out far for balance, because you desire to stand - and trample - on a very small surface area: His body, his soul, and everything he ever held dear. Ahastar finally has to watch you hover your foot high above his head, that sole the size of a church door with mud and filth raining down over his hyperventilating, Stalker-scale-patterned flesh... before DOWN it comes with the teeth-SHATTERING, skull-CRACKING force of an industrial piston... and Ahastar's jaws wedged unfortunately wide open with your broad, long toe right between his gurgling lips!

At first the Stalker doesn't even notice that one of her toes has ended up in your mouth. It's just slightly warmer and wetter than the surrounding dirt, after all. But when she looks down and sees this, you swear your hear the twisted beast laughing at the sight. The stomping is paused, for now, but you're soon forced to fellate her claw as she rams that deeply into your snout! That vicious, dirty talon scratches at your tongue and throat, injuring even those sensitive, vulnerable areas while you're left trying to choke down some of that mud just to clear your windpipe. This is made even more difficult as the girth of her toe cracks most of your remaining teeth and your jaws, giving you very little with which to appease the zombie.

Of course, this is not an easy task, and the Stalker's weight shifts upon your lower body to keep her balanced, which leaves your lower body to take the full brunt of her weight. She shifts her paw around slightly, but that just causes her middle talon to finally find your cloaca and spear inside, emasculating you with just a casual movement of her paw. Even with your raptorhood impaled, she still moves her toes around, continuing to demolish the remnants of that organ, while her other toes grind down at your hips and eventually pop your legs out of joint. Her heel moves around and onto the ground, but that just catches your tail. She slips for a moment and that entire limb is simply yanked out in a tug and buried in the mud like a mere worm.

After a good two minutes of working her talon into your mouth, the Stalker frees her foot from your snout and looks at your work. There's noticeably less mud upon that toe - it's now all in your stomach, making you feel ill - but she still smirks at the fact there's quite a bit left. She makes a point of lowering that saliva-slicked toe to your face and wipes off the remnants of your drool onto your snout, before she finally settles that foot down once more, reliving some of the pressure from what little remains of your legs.

Ahastar has no idea how the fuck that Stalker manages to separate raptor flesh from the mere mud-filth surrounding us; the saurian certainly doesn't manage to see the difference any more, not certain where his body ends and the murk starts - you seem to have no problem though - your sadistically leering face lowering down and giving him the most wicked grin Ahastar has ever seen (seriously, your entire head just seems to be made up of fangs and teeth!). It perfectly transports the message that you are well aware of what you are doing, and that you are enjoying it to a disturbing degree! The saurian tries his best to move, the disgusting taste in his maw nearly driving him insane while your long, filthy toe makes him choke, retch, and gurgle, but you have his body not simply trodden on, you have it *entombed* under these probably once white reptile feet of yours. FINALLY that toe is coming out from in between the saurian's halfway ripped off lips, myriads of tough tendrils of mud forming up between his shattered jaws and the part of your toe that tramples victims to paste, some of the thicker ones of these slimy strings even carrying some of the raptor's stomped out teeth with them!

What seems like a brief relief at first, even if it comes at the crushing price of all of your devastating weight on the raptor's lower body, quickly turns to a new level of hell: Ahastar's eyes close briefly, but only until you BATTER one of your dirt-caked zombie claws straight into the raptor's mouth! Fellate? Fellate! That is the comparison you come up with? Can you fellate an excavator-mounted mining drill? Ahastar isn't sure. Apparently, neither are you, which is why you are TRYING, the saurian guesses. And not just at one spot, either, no: The fact that the raptor manages to SCREAM his soul out one moment later even though he has his mouth absolutely full to the brim with your chawinsaw-like talon and the tramplefilth that comes with it testifies the vicious pain you invoke by cramming a claw of your other foot so deep into the saurian's cloaca that you can watch his bloodied seed and urine *jet* out behind your heel with the force of a fire hose attempting to pump through the eye of a needle. Your plan certainly works though: Ahastar fellates your talon in his mouth and is forced to fuck it in his sex-slit, and he does it with forced out, raped out moans, too, all the way until you decide to put your two bulldozer soles on top of his mutilated body once more, squashing ...everything, including hopes and dreams.

With your body thoroughly bruised and your health running low, the Stalker seems to contemplate a proper finishing move. Throughout this ordeal, the mud beneath you has been getting compacted, so there's even less cushioning now to mitigate the weight of the zombie's body. The creature jumps off you for a moment, but it only serves as an opportunity to switch feet while in the air. You soon find your face smashed under her right foot with enough force that your snout cracks. The remnants of your cloaca are smeared across your face, giving you a taste of your urine and semen after they were crushed out of your slowly-dying body. The impact of her left foot on your lower body is equally brutal; her heel crushes both of your legs at once, shattering the tibia and fibia in that brutal impact.

Another thought crosses the Stalker's mind, however, and you're not even given a moment to clear your mind from the fresh waves pain assaulting your senses. She shifts position so she's now standing perpendicular to your body, with her right foot still positioned near your chest and the left vaguely near your waist. Her stance is roughly digitigrade; you're too small for her to have both feet covering you like this. But then she starts to grind her feet against you, rubbing one back, then the other... just like a doormat. The fact you're as filthy as the ground itself now makes no difference to the Stalker, but there's still even more dirt caked into your scales from that persistent effort!

SCHLK SCHLK SCHLK SCHHHLLKKKKK - that is the sound filling Ahastar's mud-filled ears while you are still busy using his muzzle as a doormat for your freshly force-licked toe, said ears clogged full around the same way the raptor's entrails are now, too: The mud on your claw and that single toe was around the amount of food the raptor eats in two or three good days on the run, and having been forced to ingest it at once sure doesn't make him feel... healthy. Of course, the flavour doesn't help, either. This normal mud is already tasting quite bad, and apparently getting trampled around on by a Stalker for gods know how many days doesn't improve the aroma. It isn't the only indignity the weight-sobbing raptor has to endure right now though - the insane pressure deployed on top of his poor, mangled body combined with the raping destruction you delivered into his now pounding genital slit leaves his utterly exhausted, garbage-compacted flesh a small selection of choices in how to deal with all this physical stress - and eventually, Ahastar's body decides on "Climax to reduce tension and shock".

The result? A deeply humiliating, overwhelming orgasm suffered underneath your flat-squashing dragonsoles, fired off straight up into your first foot's ball without you even having to move! With what little part of his brain isn't squashed halfway to paste, Ahastar's brain hopes you do not notice - he is already embarrassed so badly by it that he feels like the humiliation could rip apart the one dimension your feet about have him left with. The raptor never quite gets an answer on that question, but he *DOES* get his face full of his own urine and stomped out seed the moment you JUMP off of him, only to *RAM* your soles straight on sideways over his body now, shaking the entire earth! Ahastar isn't quite sure about the force you just unleashed on his unlucky bones, but suffice to say, the landing impact power was hard enough to slam the raptor's own cum straight into his tear ducts and ears so hard that some of it comes spraying into his brain!

Now yet again captured underneath your merciless trample-tread, Ahastar tries to even remember a time where his body wasn't subjected to the crushing tonnage of your presence, when all out of a sudden, that first, rasping, sadistic, utterly degrading foot-wipe of yours channels ALL his attention back to his mind! *SSSKKKKRRRRRTTTTTTT* There are no worse feet to be doormatted under than reptilian ones: Every. Single. Scale. of yours comes sliding over the saurian's already mashified flesh, marinating it with filth to the point where the is actually a bit of white shining through your soles again. Moreover, with one single wipe, you deliver what feels like four dozen pounds of filth down Ahastar's cloaca or mouth, depending on what foot you grind over - and if the raptor decided during the claw fellating that this dirt tasted badly, he now redefines his idea of "bad".

Both of those feet work your body over without mercy. With the way they grind over your body, it's like they're trying to somehow wring you out against the ground, as those scaly rolling pins batter you and grind you into the earth. You're never given a moment of rest; as soon as one foot settles onto your body again the other lifts and grinds you once more. Back and forth. Over and over. The pressure is enough that some of the filth you'd been forced to consume earlier is now forced right back out of your stomach. The Stalker's weight is certainly not doing your ribcage any favors, either. Those bones struggle with the mass bearing down upon them before they start to crack beneath her body. The first one makes her hesitate for a moment, but the rest of those crackling sounds get no response from your tormenter.

Now that your ribs are out of the way, there's nothing left to prevent your innards from being mutilated by the pressure as well. You already feel unwell from accumulated internal injuries, but now you're taking on even more damage as your organs are subject to the full brunt of a Stalker's paw. You feel a few things making a wet squish inside you, though it's hard to tell exactly what's burst. You're feeling somewhat lightheaded from blood loss now so those thoughts are becoming increasingly difficult to focus on.

The Stalker is, of course, aware of your state. She's aware that you're nearly gone and that, in the absence of another survivor, nothing is going to save you now. She spits onto your face and you soon are made aware of another sensation of vertigo. You're shrinking. Again. Apparently trampling a mouse-sized raptor into the mud just isn't good enough for the Stalker. You're now so small that you lie right on top of the wet ground, rather than sinking into it. You're soon presented with a single toeclaw bigger than your entire body as she moves into position. Her right foot moves forward so you're between two toes, giving you a moment to appreciate just how much larger this creature is than you now. You could try praying to her as if she were an evil goddess, but those pleas would fall on deaf ears.

Without saying a word, the Stalker starts to lift her foot up. You notice, out of the corner of your eye, she's counting down on her hand. She flashes four fingers at you, then three. You may try to sit up, but the muscles in your abdomen have been shredded. Any movement at all makes what remains of your stomach turn. You can feel a few fluids oozing out of your anus, but there's no telling what the mixture contains, aside from it being rich with blood. Two fingers. You try to block out the pain and crawl backward, forcing your arms to cooperate, but the motion is far, far too slow to matter. The Stalker sees this and just moves her foot forward another millimeter to compensate, ensuring you're now under the ball of her foot. One. Bracing for impact would do you no good here; it'd be like trying to survive a head-on collision from a bus traveling at highway speeds.

There's no more signal from the Stalker when she counts zero. If there is, anyway, you never notice as you have far bigger things demanding your attention. Her foot descends with all the force she can muster. It's all you can see in your dimming vision. You're able to make out your own teeth and feathers stuck to the sole, things that are now far larger than when you lost them. What little light remains fades out as her foot touches the ground and you're driven deep into the mud with a brown splash. You hear a loud squelching followed by a crunch as your bones are reduced to nothingness and shattering skull allows you to pass into the next life.

SKKKRRTHHHHCCCC - SKRRRTTCCCHHHH - SKRRRTTTCCCHHHHH - even with all of the mud, all of the squeezing, and all of the rainy moisture, Ahastar's body is still lightly steaming from the sheer, vicious friction burns your two mercilessly wiping scale-soles have given him, and thoroughly so: The saurian was even cooled from the inside, mind you, because after three wipings over his face, you had deployed that much muddy filth into his toothless, shattered mouth that it filled his entire guts - which, of course, didn't stop you from wiping more. It just means that every new load of filth you grind over his countenance comes sputtering out of the raptor's anus, which would be painful enough as it is - but since every single time your doormat his face flat your other foot is standing solidly on his lower body - and thus his butt - aforementioned anus is always like the space between two sheets of paper held in a military grade grasping vice while it desperately tries to sputter open. A similar problem arrives at Ahastar's cloaca when your other sole wipes, just with his nostrils being the orifices having to strain with the incoming muck tsunami this time. What, there is no connection between raptorian nostril and raptorian sex slit? True, there wasn't one... until doormat-grinding number seventeen.

The next few moments are a violent, fleeting haze of insane pain everywhere, mindbending humiliation, bodily orifices sputtering disturbing mixes of filth and fluids Ahastar has never seen before, as well as a complete collapse of his anatomy: An arm rips off. Then a leg. Then even the little stump of the tail you flattened what feels like ages before. All of his skeleton breaking apart, leaving his organs and tissue without protection while you *ride* them. It would take something spectacular, something overwhelming to rip the saurian back out of this exhaustion-driven numbness - something like... a full garbage can worth of disgustingly stinking, greenish, steaming zombie Stalker spit hitting the raptor *right* in the face the moment he desperately tries to soak in some air into his flattened lungs! The choking, coughing, wheezing fit as well as the blood-vomiting this so richly earns your sadistic self lasts long into Ahastar shrinking a second time, the saurian wiping his face clean with the broken, twisted, mangled hand-stump you have left him with, your spittle sticky and thick.

Ahastar's eyes are trampled red, they got crushed so hard. But they still manage to stare... up at you. They aren't able to *focus* up at you, mind you, since your head is now simply beyond the visible range of even a healthy raptor, but the saurian still can make out the shape of what has stopped to be a monster, and has grown to be a goddess. The fingers you show him are a lot clearer to even trampled eyes. FOUR. THREE. TWO... Ahastar is sure there was a ONE there somewhere, but he never gets to see them. His attention is fully focused on that foot the size of... of... the saurian has nothing to compare it to, mainly because terraforming excavation technology is still a theoretical concept. Crushing destruction, on the other hand, is not: At first, there is a rushing storm powerful enough to pin him down merely with air pressure. Then follows that foot-THING descending with the dirt-raining slow motion that all small moons seem to be moving at. And finally, there is only sounds: A scream of toothless terror. The staccato of crackcrunchCRRAANNKKKing of a skeleton turning to pulver. And finally, the THOOOOOOOOOOOM of the apocalypse - probably not a world-ending one, but a raptor-finishing version for certain.