FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Mephia looks up at the drop ship flies off, leaving her in the open of an alien-field with blue and purple grass-like plants surrounding her. In the distance thick forest-like growths greet her with their purple, green and blue hued coloration and leave. The sounds of calls and guttural growls echo out from there as the wind blows causing the plants around her to sway slightly as strange insect-like creatures about half a foot long jump and fly about nearby.

The four-tailed orange furred anthropomorphic kitsune cracks her neck as her tails flick behind her, “I get to spend a month on this overgrown garden of a planet, facing deadly creatures, unknown diseases, and all sorts of natural hazards that would be considered cruel and unusual punishment for the most warranted of criminals while the scientists get to watch my progress up on a nice cozy space-station,” she states to herself as she cracks the other side of her neck before a giant grin comes over her muzzle, “Sounds like they are going to miss out on all the fun,” she chuckles.

Dressed in heavy travel gear, thick heavy boots, a massive backpack filled to the brim with necessities and supplies, on top of her head is a reinforced hat with light armor plates to protect her head. Her ears poke through the top as she touches the side of her head as visor forms over her right eye as she is fed important and relevant information about the area around her. She checks and sees a little green light in the bottom corner of the screen.

“Looks like you are receiving everything, hope it's clear. I’ve just been dropped off by the automated drop ship on planet Z-11-K-69. The bio-nanite shot you gave me to protect me from diseases still makes my arm ache. The second you put in my neck to test out the bio-adaptation nanites makes me neck feel a little stiff but nothing I can’t handle. I will be setting up monitoring stations for the native life on the planet, and record any changes in my physiology that requires me to survive on this mundane looking but possibly very hostile planet. My next report vocal will come on the next planetary cycle,” she states as she taps the side of the visor.

Drawing her high powered semi-automatic rifle from her side she takes her first careful steps out into this new world. Cool wind blows through parts of her exposed fur. Her nostrils flare, alien scents fill the air as well as aromas that feel out of place. As she takes her few tentative steps, the grass-like plants crunch against her feet as her ears perk, listening for any sound that could warn of danger, yet her instincts leave her with this sense of uneasiness, that danger is everywhere.

She holds tightly onto her weapon, ears twitch as she walks ahead. Her heart races, the unknown surrounds her, excitement rushes through her, her four tails sway with excitement, a grin painted on her face, showing off her two long fangs that jut out of her mouth.

She licks her lips as she walks toward the forest, “I wonder what wondrous animals am I going to find there? Will they be edible right away or will the shot make it edible? I hope it doesn’t ruin my taste buds when I get back,” she chuckles.

Crunch. Mephia turns to the noise drawing her weapon, pressing the butt against her shoulder as out of the grass-like plants shift and sway, a soft chitter reaches her ears as she takes a deep breath and takes a single step back, remaining vigilant as she listens.

A high-pitched screech rings through her ears the grass shifts with lightning quick speed. The creature rushes straight to her and with a pull of the trigger a loud bang echoes out, a few insectoid creatures this planet’s version of bird’s flies off from their hiding places in the grass. The creature lets out a squeal as it tumbles and slides forward, its momentum carrying it’s corpse right into her.

The large-dog sized beast stinks of something fierce, green blood oozes out of the wound between its unblinking yellow eyes staring right at her, a pair of thick sharp tusks that jut out at least six inches from the creature’s chin are mere inches from her face, but that is not what draws her attention. Two thick boney scythes dangle a few inches on either side of her head.

“What is this thing?” she mutters as she pushes it off of her, onto the creature’s brown chitinous armor topside hide, revealing the soft purple colored soft fleshy underside. Her visor scans the creature as she looks over it. The fierce looking creature with a small spike on its tail and two finger claws added to its monstrous look and fierceness.

Scans on her visor show up zero information and as she takes her knife and jabs it into the belly she feels the tough muscles slowly be cut by her. The three fingered webbed clawed feet twitch as she spills its guts onto the ground.

“Nothing… I hope it tastes descent,” she manages to get a few slices when the same chitter catches her attention just in time for another one of these creatures to leap out from the grasses its massive scythe arms that come from its back strike at her.

Only quick thinking and using her gun as a shield stops one of the scythes from driving straight into her skull as the second manages to cut a three inch long a tenth of an inch deep gash across her arm. The momentum carries the creature past her taking her gun with her.

“Shit,” she remarks as it lands a few feet away, quickly turns and charges her again. It’s jaws open showing rows of sharp deadly teeth, the back arm scythes strike out once again.

Mephia rolls grabbing the dead creature’s scythe and in that moment uses it like a pike and drives it into her attacker’s mouth, but not before she feels pain shoot through her shoulder. She yells out in pain while driving the bone up into its mouth piercing its brain as it falls limp.

Blood flows down her shoulder as she takes the moment to look to see that one of those scythes her attacker posses managed to drive itself into her shoulder. She pants loudly as she reaches with her good hand, as she bites into the metal casing of an extra magazine and pulls out the bone spear with a muffled scream. Quickly she tunicates the wound, and gives herself with a shot to combat the pain and speed up her healing.

“I need to get to some cover,” she remarks as she makes her way to her weapon when the sounds of a dozen of these creatures reach her ears. She looks up to see shifting grasses from six directions quickly approaching her.

She runs through the only opening before her, toward the forest which is impossibly far away. Pushing through the grass she can hear them right on her tails, she glances behind her to see one mid-air, its scythes ready to dig into her.

Mephia ducks and rolls out of the way just in the nick of time and does not stop she rolls back to her feet and keeps running. Her visor quickly flashes, “enhancing.” Her heart beats harder, her breath quick and heavy as her muscles burn and ache as if they are being stabbed with a thousand needles. A surge of strength rushes through her as she pushes herself to go faster and faster, faster still.

Before she knew it she is at the forest, looking behind her the creatures after her are nowhere to be seen at least for a few seconds when she saw the motion of the grasses of the alien creatures falling back having given up their attempt to catch her.

“H-how…” she says softly with a heavy pant as she looks at her visor and sees the words, “Enhancement complete.”

“Oh… that’s how. That fast? Well, that’s a good thing. It’s on a need basis and I needed it,” she remarks leaning against the three for only a moment before she felt herself slide slightly. Pulling away she sees the “bark” of it the three oozes a pinkish liquid. She runs it across her fingertips and runs it across, the gelatinous liquid feels cool to the touch as she feels a hunger in her belly.

“I should eat something, and get a fire going. Most animals are afraid of fire,” she thinks as she gets a little sets up her cookware, the small stove top item unfolds itself on the ground. There she realizes that this purple gelatinous substance is also on the ground. She makes a quick note of it as she sautés the pink flesh of the creature she killed earlier.

After the meal she taps the side of her visor, “Recording 1, day 1. For tomorrow’s report. I was ambushed by some native wildlife. They attempted to zerg rush me but I managed to fend off early attacks with some injuries but thanks to the nanite enhancements they boosted my running speed to escape. I am now at the edge of what I think I would call a forest and there is this purple substance covering the ground and parts of the trees. I’ve obtained samples for analysis and further study. I’ve also managed to consume the meat of my alien attackers. The meat has proven to be edible albeit a bit gamey. Taste leaves something to be desired.”

After compiling the report Mephia takes another look at her injured shoulder and as she peels away the layer of bandages she sees the bloodied fur and the gash. She takes a closer look at it as she movers her shoulder slightly and winches, “It already looks better and it’s only been a few hours. Must be the nanites working on it,” she remarks as she looks out to the grasses which look deceitfully peaceful, “Further study of them will be needed,” she turns her head toward the forest, “I’ll spend a day recovering then move further in,” she states as she sets up camp, using a hanging tent to camp up high in the trees.

Her tent faces out to the plains and as she pulls out some medical treatment to help further treat and take care of the wound she hears a high pitched screech from up above. peeking her head out of the tent she looks into the forest canopy to see these pink fleshy creatures clinging to the side of the threes. Three single finger claws at the edge of its wings, one on each side and one below dig into the tree. At this distance there is no discernible eyes but its mouth is full of teeth as a half a dozen of these things have pinned and eating into another flying creature which is several times their size but completely discernible as they tear through it.

“Level 1 analysis complete,” states Mephia’s visor as two of these creatures leap from the tree and take flight in her general direction. She zips up her tent and taps on the surface of the tent in front and to the two sides of her, the sides turn into a holographic projection of the view outside as these flying eyeless creatures land a few feet over head.

“Quiet. Best not to provoke. They are small but those teeth could still be a problem,” she thinks as she pulls out a six inch long knife as a precaution. Suddenly one of those dog-scythe creatures that zerg rushed her earlier approaches the edge of the forest. It’s yellow eyes gaze around, and then up to the trees. It’s gaze looks in Mephia’s general direction when a screech up above as the dozen or so little things rush after it.

It chitters as it turns tail and runs as soon as several of these other creatures land on it, the claws and teeth attempt to break through the upper chitin of the animal’s body but it simply bounces off, but a few latch onto the underside and thrust their claws into it, diving in deep as it yells out in pain. It’s scythe arms that jut from its back slice a few of the flying creatures in two, which results in a small explosive pop which damages the animal’s limbs.

“Note to self, don’t kill the flying buggers,” she remarks as she watches and analyzes with the scope as the animal has no more discourse but to dig into the earth and within only fifteen seconds it manages to dig itself into the ground pulling dirt and other things over it, forcing the remainder of the flying beasts to break off and fly back into the forest.

“They dig into the ground to escape, interesting. Perhaps that is why we didn’t see them when I was dropped off,” she remarks to herself as an hour passes after the incident before the injured creature climbs out of its hole. The scourge of its wounds caused by the flying creatures is evident its movements.

Off to the side of the grasses there is a rush of movement to it as the others of its kind rush to attack it. Their scythe claws from their backs slice into their brethren as the cannibalize it.

“What a cruel species, this place is beyond normal levels of dangerous. Good thing they selected me for the job,” she thinks as she stretches and lays down as the sun has nearly set and with the soft throbbing pain in her shoulder she slowly drifts to sleep with an ear open to any sounds that could mean trouble.

The next morning she is jolted awake by the noise of two of the dog-sized creatures that attacked her in the rushed her yesterday. She taps the front of her tent to quickly look around, noting everything in her close proximity was alright she unzips the front to get a better look at the two creatures fighting each other about thirty yards from the edge of the forest. Their scythe blades on their backs slash at one another hitting the others as they growl and snarl.

Mephia watches curiously when suddenly there’s a loud pitched whistle from underneath and then a squeal of pain as one of the two dueling is pierced through its hard chitinous hide on the side by some kind of spiky projectile. The other chitters out in surprise and in the general direction of the attack before a second such projectile pierces its head, killing it instantly.

Below her she can hear a deep guttural hiss. She tentatively looks down to see a massive snake-like creature covered in thick brown armored plates. As it slithered out from the brush more of the creature became visible. As it became clear it had a naga-like physiology with a fifteen foot long snake body and from the top of its massive boney crest head is easily nine feet in height.

It’s armored underside slithers forward propelling it with relatively quick speed of a fast olympic runner. Mephia watches and gathers data as she looks at the creature’s arms which each sport a massive boney scythe that are several feet in length, “Things keep getting better. That looks like as if one of the heads of a hydra was cut off and grew to become its own badass monster,” she remarks

The giant naga scythe creature slithers over to its kill, where it discovers one of them is still alive but with one quick swipe and a spray of green blood the life is quickly extinguished. As it uses those massive scythed arms it pulls the carcass of its kill into mouth which is now visible to Mephia. It has two sets of lower jaws; the first hangs out from the side of its jaw, with larger and spear-like teeth. The outer jaw stabs into the flesh of its meal holding it into place as the inner mouth filled with just as deadly rows of teeth bite into the flesh cracking the chitinous hide with a loud crunch. It’s red eyes glow softly as it devours its meal, keeping a vigilance the entire time it eats.

Melphia lays low in her tent, her high-powered rifle already pulled out as she peers through her scope as she takes aim, “I will need samples,” she remarks as she pulls the trigger. A loud bang echoes through the forest, some of those insectoid flying creatures fly off away from the noise as the bullet hits and bounces off the hard boney head crest of the creature leaving only a scratch which slowly oozes some green blood.

The creature hisses out in the direction of the attack as it looks around as it figures where the attack came from, “Damn bugger has strong hide,” she takes aim and fires again this time hitting it in the open mouth. The bullet pierces through and comes out in the back of its jar unhinging one of its exterior mandibles. She fires a third shot which pierces a small soft fleshy area between its chest and head. Green blood oozes out of the wound as it looks in Mephia’s direction.

As she fires a fourth shot the creature’s large boney crest moves and opens up and with amazing force fires a spiny projectile at her. The spine cuts into the back of her shoulder as spines on the boney spike cuts down of her pack. She grunts pain as she feels a sharp pain as one of her tails finds itself battered and bloodies. In quick succession Mephia fires four more shots which pierce the chest of the creature which fires off one more shot in turn before it collapses. The spiny projectile misses Mephia but hits right where the ropes connect and keep her tent held in the air, cutting through them as if it wasn’t even there causing the entire thing to collapse and tumble to the ground with a heavy thud and crack.

Mephia holds back a scream of pain as she feels a rib snap. Dazed she climbs out of the wreck of her tent and onto her feet. She doesn’t catch her visor pop up with the words “analyzing” as she makes her way over to her kill. There she sees the creature, its scythes arms covered in green blood, its spiny sides twitch along its lower snake like half.

“Damn thing smells worse than it looks,” she remarks as she tentative pokes the creature from behind, the body twitches but does nothing more than that. Mephia’s relaxes her tails as she pulls out a knife and attempts to stab at the head crest of the creature but the knife simply slides off only cutting a thin layer of skin.

“It’s almost as hard headed as me,” she chuckles and winches putting her hand on her side, “I need to limit how much fun I have in one day, and the day just started,” she remarks as she takes her blade and slides it between two armor plates and with a bit of force and effort manages to crack underneath it, lifting it up to expose the flesh underneath, allowing her to carve into the beast.

Mephia’s body aches from her injuries as she strains just to get what she wants from the massive thing. She acquires samples to bring back with her, shavings of some of the chitin armor as well as a fair bit of “meat” for her own personal consumption. She pulls back to her tent, where parts are ripped and some of the holographic capabilities are damaged beyond her means to repair.

“It’s still serviceable, “she remarks as she looks up at the tree, “I should get one of those spikes to study, but first…” she mutters as she looks around and starts up another cooking fire and makes herself a bit of breakfast from the beast she just slew.

“Tough and gamey, and leaves a little to desire,” she comments on the meat, “But still edible, I have enough to last me several days at least,” she adds as she video records from her visor and sends in her daily report. As she does so she feels an itching sensation run from her shoulder down her back. She idly scratches but winces as she feels the pain in her gut.

“Expect my next report next local solar cycle,” she states at the end of the report.

“What’s causing that,” she grumps as she partially slips out of her jacket as lumps of her brown fur slides off with it. Mephia’s eyes widen, as she taps her visor, “Scan for radioactivity.” A few moments later her visor reports “Safe levels detected.”

She looks back at her back and shoulder, running her hand near the wound she received yesterday, more fur slides off as her tails twitch. Her soft pinkish skin underneath flakes off revealing brown chitinous armor plates forming in its place. The itch continues down her back and as she scratches she reveals more plates. She swallows a lump in her throat, “They said things like this would happen. Relax, this is only to help me survive, it can be undone later,” she tells herself as the brown armor plates go from just above the base of her tail all along her back and shoulders. She feels the armor plates grind against one another providing a protective layer on her back. She stretches and flexes feeling a slight reduction in her agility.

“This will take me some time to get used to…” she remarks as she feels a surge of hunger within her. She shakes it off as she packs up her stuff, before she uses some climbing gear to make back to where her tent was and retrieves one of the spikes from the tree.

She examines it and takes note of its boney appearance, “This looks hard enough to pierce through steel. What kind of creatures live on this damn planet that need this?” she mutters as she hears chittering from the grasses. Moments later several of those things that zerg rushed her approach the corpses and quickly begin to scavenge from them, tearing off chunks of flesh from the massive beast and their kind alike.

Slowly she makes her way down the tree, gathering her tent and supplies when there is a ring of growls and chittering as several of those alien scythe-dogs rush in her direction. She fires several shots piercing and killing two but five more are right behind them.

“Shit,” she mutters as she takes a few steps and almost slips on the organic substance on the ground, but manages to dig her boots into the ground just enough to get traction to bolt deeper into the forest.

Deeper and deeper she is forced in. Her heart races, her three functioning tails flutter in the wind as the third dangles weakly from its injuries. One scythe-dog leaps and strikes at Mephia, its giant scythe arms swing down at her, slamming it’s blade into her shoulder and down her back. Mephia screams out as jacket is cut clean from collar to the bottom along with all the straps of her backpack on her right side.

A loud pitched screech echoes through the forest as more of those flying alien-bats fly out of the trees and spring upon her and her attackers alike. The scythe-dogs retreat from their attack, two dig into the ground to get away as Mephia is left swiping at them, pulling out her blade as she tries to fend them off.

They claw and bite into her side, red blood stains her fur as she knocks one away into a tree with a hard sickening crack, the creature then gives off a small explosion as they day which causes one of the smaller trees to crack and fall. The tall but thin tree tumbles to the ground with a heavy thud scaring off other smaller flying creatures which draw the attention of Mephia’s newest attackers as preference goes to an easy indefensible meal while she takes this moment to duck under the fallen tree for some cover.

“This place is making me look like an amateur, I don’t like it,” she grunts as she takes a moment to check over her injuries. A round circular bite on her side continues to bleed out and stain her clothes which is easy enough to remove due to it being cut in twain from the earlier attack.

She places a patch over the round stopping the bleeding as she then checks her back. Her eyes grow wide as she sees the thick chitin armor is relatively unscaved. Only a light scratch shows the attack that could have previously ended her life.

She feels the pain if hunger fill her. Her stomach growls as she lies under the tree with only a few inches of clearance. She shakes off the need as she peers from under the tree the sound of the alien-bats hang over head.

“This is my new base camp for a little while,” she states as she takes out a small collapsible hand shovel and gets to work digging underneath the tree to provide room and to more cover as the tree itself is barely wide enough for herself to hide under. Small mounds of earth add to her room while she provides space for light and to see what is happening outside.

A couple of hours pass when she hears the chitter of the scythe-dogs. Peering through one of the holes she sees them pop out of the ground and land with a thud. They growl and chitter to one another as they spread out their massive scythes on their backs raised and ready to strike as they make their way toward her position.

“They were afraid to enter the forest before. Why are they so eager no…” the realization hits her They alien-naga must of kept them away, and that it is dead, they are able to venture into the forest to hunt for food.

“Here for only two days and I ruined the food chain, not bad, but not good for me,” she thinks as sees one of them approaching her hiding spot. It’s spiked mandibles on the side of its jaw. It hisses out as it looks around, its three toed webbed foot now only a few inches away from her hiding place.

“Too cramped for my rifle,” she thinks as she reaches for her pistol in her holster but stops instantly when she comes to the dreadful realization that her holster isn’t there along with the pistol, “Damn,” she keeps the rifle at the ready and draws out her knife as she waits.

It jumps onto the fallen tree which creaks under its weight. She can hear the creature’s heavy breathing, sniffing the air as it looks around for several tentative moments before a chittering call echoing through the forest calls it and the other three away.

Relief comes over her, followed by the desire to eat. She waits another hour before succumbing to the desires, wanting to ensure that those scythe-dogs were nowhere near her as she slipped out from under her hiding spot to set up her cooking set. Her fur covered a complete mess and covered in dirt while the chitin back side looked relatively clean.

Her desire to eat pressed into her mind, even as she was cooking more of the “food” she had on her, the urge to just eat it right now filled her. Her gut felt pains greater than the bite on her side to consume, to devour as it felt as if she hasn’t eaten in weeks.

She salivates over her meal three times bigger than normal as it sizzles in the frying pan. Her ears twitch as she still remains vigilant as she cooks. Her eyes switch from the forest around her to her food back to the forest back to her food, the eagerness to eat presses her to consume it now, consume it now, but with a slow deep breath which aches with the reminder of her previous injuries she pushes down the desire to finish cooking, but once she does she makes short work of the meal almost burning her mouth in the process.

The warm succulent meat has a hint of sweetness to it she did not catch before. Rather delectable in fact, and as she cuts large bite-size chunks for her to eat she mutters, “I should prepare it this way again, tastes better.”

A soft tingle at first then an itch rolls across her chest. Her breathing grows heavy as she looks down to see her white chest fur begin to fall off. The patch on her side slides off with the avalanche of hair as more armor plates form over her chest and belly.

Her skin flakes away to reveal the hard brown chitin armor that is reminiscent of alien-naga that she killed. Her hands shake as she touches the hard smooth warm plates. She feels them shift and grow under her finger tips, growing harder, the plates interlocking for added protection while retaining mobility for her to function. The changes slide up to the base of her neck and move all the way down to her waist, creating a permanent body vest armor and with it the pain of her broken bone, the bite on her side, all gone, leaving her with this alien feel of her plates shifting, grinding against one another with each and every breath that she takes.

Her hands feel the crevices and individual plates on her body, as a strange fascination overcomes her. The muffled sensations of her own fingertips on her body, the alien feel of her own chest, her soft mounds now covered in curved chest plates that encompasses them completely.

Curiosity drives her further as she takes her knife and pokes the tip against the armor plates. She feels the force of the hit but no sense of pain, no injury whatsoever as the knife bounces off the plate itself. Only when she takes the knife and slips it between two plates and lifts does she feel a painful tug on her skin does she stop.

“Good to know. Good to know,” she says as she rubs the spot as she puts away her knife. She looks up to the trees as she sees two of those alien-bat things fly to another insect that is covered in sharp boney spikes, its pinky flesh abdomen hangs underneath it. As their attackers approach the insectoid creature fires a brownish liquid out from the abdomen and hits the first alien-bat creature, the liquid with a mind of its own surreal ability bounces and hits the other alien-bat. The movements of the two alien-bats appear to be slowed as the insectoid attacks again, covering them in some kind of sporish-like brown liquid, the loss of momentum causes them to fall to the ground with two soft thuds.

Mephia prepares herself from the inevitable explosion but nothing happens. The insectoid creature flies down and then promptly begins to devour both of them without issue. Her visor records the whole event as she remarks, “Perhaps setting up my tent in the trees was a bad thing… but I was okay last time. I’ll do it again,” she mutters as she sets up camp above her ground base, using her hanging tent to keep her mid-level over the trees.

“Two days and barely no progress has been made,” she remarks as she zippers up the tent, “Perhaps with these changes I can be protected enough to explore without injuring myself,” she mutters in annoyance as she yawns wide. “It’s not even been a full day and…” she yawns again. “Damn it. I should do more but… walking around tired is not going to be helpful,” she states as she curls up and feels the weight of sleep overtake her.

Mephia’s heart races, her body aches, she feels herself running through the forest. Faster and faster she runs, a voice deep echoing calls into the back of her mind.

“Hunt.”

“Kill”

“Consume.”

“Grow.”

She runs faster, edged forward by these desires, the excitement of the hunt. Weapon in hand she takes aim at her target, one of the dog-scythes. It’s running away from HER. Yes. It won’t escape. She pulls the trigger, the bullet whizzes through the air piercing its hide killing it instantly. Adrenaline and endorphins rush through her veins. The thrill of the hunt, the glory of the kill, the pain of hunger in her gut that desire to be sated. She pulls out her knife and slices into the gut of the beast, ready to carve up her next meal…

Mephia’s eyes shoot open the next day by the sound of the chittering of scythe-dogs below. She shifts and tenses as the sudden shifts of her hanging tent make her feel uneasy. Slowly she unzips the tent and looks around to see them on the hunt again. Her hands slowly reach for her gun as she flips the safety. She licks her lips as she sees the delectable creatures below but as she takes aim she stops, as she counts three… five, seven of them moving about looking for food.

One of the insects with the hanging abdomen flies between the trees causing a rustle above the scythe-dogs, three of whom look up to the noise. They chitter and hiss at each other, one snaps at one, its scythe blade clashes with the other for only a moment before they run to and up the tree. Their claws dig into the bark as the sprint up it almost as fast as if they were running on flat surface and when the flying insect tries to escape it leaps and slashes the creature in two. The two halves of its body land away from each other which is quickly rushed by by the others in the pack. Like ravenous dogs they tear and consume the creature. They fight over the scraps over the next few minutes before continuing on their hunt.

Mephia softly sighs as they leave, feeling a mix of relief and annoyance that they are gone, but one thing is clear. Her uneasiness of being held up helpless in the tree via her hanging tent now felt all the more justified. The sensation of having nothing underneath her, nothing to really hold onto felt wrong and she had to get back to holding something solid, the tree itself.

She swings onto the tree her paws hold onto the ooze covered surface, her claws extend as she digs into the side to provide further grip. A sense of ease comes over her, the fur on her tail that has been fluffed out relaxes as she makes her way down. When she lands she feels a subtle second level of relief that runs down her spine. Pulling down her tent she gets ready for the day eats more of the alien-naga meat before heading out to study and document more of the creatures of the alien world.

Any strange noise puts her on edge; her heart beats a little faster. The level of danger always in the back of her mind, but with her weapon by her side she feels a little security in her position. And for the next four days, she studies, watches, without issue. Each new species she discovers is just as dangerous if not more so than the next. A planet filled with viscous monsters ready to tear each other limb from limb through survival instinct. Still none have given her any trouble like the scythe-dogs which for the last day and a half, have not been seen this far into the forest.

Her steps softened but sink slightly into the pink slime substance that coats the ground. Remaining ever vigilant her ears twist and turn to any sounds she picks up, the sway of the trees in the wind puts a slight unease to her.

“I should find something else to eat. I’m almost out of food. I swore I had like a ten day supply of meat from that giant naga but perhaps there are less calories in it than I suspected,” she wonders as one of the scythe-dogs burst from the ground in front of her. Dirt flies everywhere as its’ deadly claws slash out to Mephia who manages to get off one shot of her rifle, before one of the scythe arms knocks the gun away and over behind it into some bushes in the distance.

Without missing a beat Mephia leaps back and sprints, dodging and weaving through the trees as her attacker is right behind her. She looks to see that the bullet she fired disabled one of its scythe arms as it dangles limply off to the side of its body.

Closer and closer it approaches, its hisses and chitters are felt as if it's right on top of her as she weaves through the forest, dodging a second pounce from the beast, its scythe arm scratches down her chittinous back harmlessly. Desperately she looks around, trying in vain to find her weapon in the dim light caused by the thick forest canopy.

Her head pounds, her eyes ache and grow blurry as she feels an urge to get down in hide, but there is nothing she can see. Her blurred vision adds to her concerns as she leaps several feet into the air and digs her hand claws into a tree as begins to climb.

“Can’t outrun these damn things,” she thinks as she feels the gelatinous ooze on the side of the tree. Her claws dig in deeper, her heart pounds, a rush through her as she feels a tug on her foot. The scythe dog using its one functioning scythe to help latch onto the tree as it pulls itself up has wrapped its many teeth in its mouth around her boot. It’s teeth dig into the rubber with ease, as she feels the tips of them dig into her flesh. Her claws scratch down the side of the tree, the “wood” curling under her claws as she is pulled down.

“Get off of me!” she yells as she kicks creature in the face several times as she feels tightness growing in both of her feet. With one more solid kick she manages to dislodge the beast from her foot but it takes the boot along with it which reveals to her subconscious horror thick boney claws protruding from her toes.

Quickly she kicks off her other boot freeing her other foot as these claws grew. She digs them into the side of the tree and climbs up twice as fast as she did before, buying her time as the scythe dog climbs after her.

The branches creak and moan under her weight as she climbs onto a branch, her claws provide a firm grip as she pulls out her knife and places it between her teeth for safekeeping as she leaps from one tree to the next clearing three yards of clearance. Lesser insectoid-birds fly off in multiple directions as she lands, the branches crack but hold firm as she gets closer to the trunk.

The scythe-dog chitters as it tenses and prepares to jump after her. Mephia feels a rush through her as she turns to face it. Withdrawing her knife from her mouth her new claws on her feet dig into the wood providing solid purchase as her muscles tense in kind.

As the scythe-dog leaps into the air Mephia does the same with a loud yell the one functioning scythe comes crashed down and hits Mephia’s back, clawing up along it and up to the back of her head, cutting into her unprotected flesh, but at the same time she drives her knife into the soft underbelly, driving the blade into the heart of the beast.

It yells out a whine of pain as they smash into each other in mid air, Mephia forcing it back as they tumble back to the forest floor with a heavy thud, her blade driving in deeper as the black limbs of creature snap and break, as its body cushions the fall for her.

“Don’t mess with me you little fucker,” she growls as she drags her blade down the creature’s belly, any life that might of still been within it has now been ripped right out of it. It’s green blood stains the ground. Mephia pants and groans as she feels a throb in the back of her head. She tenses and reaches the back of her head as she feels fur flow off of her head. Her eyes widen as she tenses as parts of the back of her head grow hard and stiffen. Steadily chitin grows and spreads outward from the back of her head. Her head feels as if it’s about to split into two as a small head crest similar in shape but much smaller grows from the back of her head. Her ears remain untouched as the boney armor grows around them. She feels the weight of the new addition as she feels the pains of hunger in her gut.

“This is happening too fast. It is too much. I need to make a report on this,” she states as she carves into her kill, “After I get something to eat…” she looks off in the direction where this fight began, “And get my gun,” she mutters.

As she butchers the scythe-dog she takes a moment to look at the changes that occurred on her feet. A thin layer of chitin armor covers the top and sides of her feet as two inch curved claws protrude out of each toe.

“I can’t get any more injured. These nanites are doing everything they can to give me an edge, but at what cost? Damn these scientists better know what they are doing to undo this,” she growls, her lip curls as she finishes collecting her food before she makes her way back to where she was attack, and after a little bit of searching she finds her rifle, a little scratches from the attack but after a quick check she determines it is still in working order.

“That’s a relief,” she says with a soft sigh as she runs her claws across the metal surface, feeling up the scratch as she looks around before rubbing the back of her neck as she feels the momentum of her new head crest, “This will take some getting used to, and hopefully there are no other changes… I’ll add that in my report in the morning, but I should head back,” she mutters as she makes her way back to the fallen tree. She pulls away some dirt to reveal a trench structure running along the half the length, dirt pulled up tight against the trunk adds to the protection.

Once inside she moves to turn on a low light but stops as she quickly looks around again, “I can see just fine… why can I see just… oh,” she mutters as she pulls out a mirror from her pack. She looks at her mostly unchanged vixen muzzle with the head crest attach the back with three distinct ridges, one down the middle and two on the sides, but that is not what catches her attention. Her eyes, now give a soft red-ish monstrous glow as there is no resemblance of what they were before left.

“I guess I don’t have my Mother’s eyes anymore,” she chuckles before shaking herself out of it, “If this keeps up I won’t be me anymore,” she mutters as she prepares dinner and rest for the night. She tears into the cooked meal of her recent kill, the food’s subtle sweet taste lingers on her lips. She feels a relaxation over her as she devours her meal with her bare clawed hands. The warm cooked flesh sliding down her tongue provides a tingling joy that she can’t quite put her finger on, but at least sated her hunger while providing a subtle satisfaction.

Mephia’s dreams were anything but restful. She feels herself running, chasing, hunting. The thrill of the kill rushes through her veins. Hunt. Kill. Consume. Grow. These meanings flow into her mind, unspoken but understood.

Mephia wakes up with a tingle running down her spine. She twitches as the pains of hunger fill her. The empty pit in her stomach eggs her on to eat. As she prepares breakfast she taps the visor on the side of her head which expands.

“Mephia reporting in with my daily report. The native wildlife has been exceedingly aggressive and dangerous. I survived another encounter with the scythe-dog creatures that zerg rushed me upon arrival. I have been thinking of what to call them, and due to their relatively small size I had the funny thought of calling them zerglings but disregarded the name due to how silly it sounds. Despite their aggressiveness they have been the main source of nourishment while here. And while a little gamey the taste isn’t that bad. But I have growing concerns. The nanites used to spur adaptive traits to survive here have been growing ever more aggressive with my body. Any injury or sudden physical hindrance I face, I am suddenly forced to be transformed further from who I am,” she says as she looks over her chitin covered chest, back and parts of her feet. She takes a deep breath and continues.

“On the one hand I am happy to have survived. Some of these creatures managed to get close enough that if I didn’t have this new chitin armor on parts of my body I’d be dead. On the other hand, it makes me concerned how much you can undo. I suppose if it happened this way so fast it can be reversed just as fast. Still I have concerns. I feel a bit off. I can’t put my finger on it, but as I get a better understanding of my over changing body I’ll provide further updates.”

She taps the visor off ending the report as she crawls out from under her hiding hole and makes her way in a new direction, continuing her exploration as the next two days were relatively uneventful. With food once again running low and with the scythe-dogs in the area she prepares a trap, clawing up to one of the trees as she sits in wait for one them to make their way toward her.

“Kill. Consume. Grow,” the thought was not translated into words, but a sensation, a gut feeling in her body. The wind through the trees felt like soft whispers, wordless but it was there. Hunger pushed her, the pit in her stomach made her salivate at the thought of the next kill.

“Patience. I must be patient. I’ve seen them travel through here. I’ll get one. It will be easy,” she thinks pressing down the feelings building within her. Her clawed rests on the trigger guard, her clawed feet are dug deep into the tree for added balance.

The insectoid-bird that has its abdomen hanging below it flies nearby. Relatively large, one shot could easily take it down. It was one of her earlier meals when she was running low on food.

“I could…” she thinks as she ponders the thought. With a visible shrug she turns back to the wait, “I wouldn’t have provided much anyway,” she mutters to herself as the next few hours there was nothing. A few more chances to shoot the flying creature but each time it was ignored, shrugged off, the thought of the scythe-dog and the taste of its purple flesh was too much to ignore. She needed more food anyway, she had to conserve ammo. She wasn’t starving, she could wait for something better.

She reasoned out her thought process. Obvious, logical. The scythe-dog hunted her, now she should hunt them, for their delicious meat. “Kill. Consume. Grow.”

A soft chitter breaks the ambiance noise. Mephia’s ears perk up as they focus on it. Slowly a lone scythe-dog walks into view. It growls softly as its scythe back limbs are held up high. It sniffs the air curiously showing off its massive set of teeth.

Mephia’s suppress hunger came to full force, she licked the drool from her lips as she took aim through the scope, her feet claws clenching hard on the tree as she waits for the perfect shot. Her claw rests on the trigger as she mutters, “Just a little more…” as suddenly two of those insectoid-birds begin to fight each other, their loud calls and growls gain the attention of the scythe-dog as it starts to make its way to the noise away from her.

She takes the shot the bullet pierces the chitin hide, green blood flows from the wound as the creature growls in pain, but before she could even take a second shot the scythe-dog bolts. “No you don’t!” she yells as she fires a second shot but hits a nearby tree.

Wrapping the gun around her back she slides down the tree, her claws rake down the trunk as she lands safely with a thud and pursues after it. Her clawed feet feel the soft gooey forest covering, it sticks to her feet while also sliding, slowing each of her steps.

“Hunt. Kill. Consume. Grow,” the instincts rush through her. The pumping of adrenaline, the rush as she has become the hunter. The scythe-dog unsure of the nature of the attack continues to fall back, giving out a guttural call as it flees.

Bobbing and weaving through the forest Mephia finds herself falling impossibly far behind the scythe-dog and when her ears turn to the sound of several more approaching her location she stops and rushes up a nearby tree just as eight scythe-dogs including the lightly injured one which bites and hisses at its companions, their scythe blades clash against another as it proves itself that it is not the pack’s next meal.

Mephia pants as she hides high up in the three, covered by brush and leaves as the several scythe-dogs make their way past her. Her hands shake as her claws dig into tree with fury, “Damn, damn, damn. There goes my meal for the day… perhaps I’ll get a second chance later.”

“Hunt. Kill. Consume. Grow.”

Mephia shakes her head as she pushes down the desire to strike out at the pack below, “There are too many. I wouldn’t escape them,” she thinks as she feels a tingle run down her spine and her tails.

Her heart races as if she just ran an Olympic decathlon. Pain shoots through her legs as her tails grow stiff and twitch while her pants feel tight and uncomfortable, “What? No! What is this time? It’s a simple failure, don’t do this!” she thinks as she holds back a muffled groan as the scythe-dogs slowly make their way from her.

She holds tightly onto the tree branch as her foot claws drag against the length of the branch as her pants rip and tear exposing her still mostly vixen lower half. Mephia watches helplessly as the nanites course through her body as she feels a tug. Desperately she pulls away her pants ripping them to shreds in the process with her bare claws. Fur rains down onto the forest floor as she feels shots of pain along the outer sides of her legs. Budding thick spines grow out as her tails wrap around her legs, entangling them together as she watches her two limbs become one from the crotch down.

“No, no!” she yells out as she tries to pull them apart but to no avail. Bones shift and crack, sending a muffled throbbing yet painful ache through her lower half. Segmented armor plates extend from her lower belly and make their way down, enveloping her legs as they extend and grow, as the spines from the side of her legs grow outward and gain subtle scythe curve to them.

She pants and moans gritting her teeth as he legs extend out. Longer and longer her legs grow out to a long slithering armor plated snake bodied lower half, transforming her into an alien-naga. Her clawed feet merge and shrink down to a sharp spiked end, while the toothy spines run across her lower torso all the way down the length of her newfound appendage. Brown armor plates protect the top and bottom as she feels it twitching and wiggling, each armor plate move in conjunction with the other providing a wide range of movement as she finds her “tail” coils around the thick tree branch.

The armor plates along her back are jagged and spiny, much like the creature she slew over a week ago. She grunts and moans as muscles shift and reform as her mind tries to put together not only what she is seeing but feeling. The sensations of a long tail like limb wrapped around a tree which are muffled by the armor plates. The tug and pull of her limb’s side spines that dig into the tree providing a vice like grip.

Her head throbs with pain, her body squeezing to tree harder and harder as it begins to crack and break under the pressure and just as the branch itself snaps. She braces herself for the fall but with lightning fast reflexes and instinctual compulsive knowledge her new lower half wraps around the tree as the branch tumbles to the ground below. Mephia’s glowing red eyes grow wide at what just occurred but she feels another sensation swell up within her.

“Run. Run. Run.”

The scythe-dogs rush to the noise and as the now nine of them move towards Mephia’s position the sensation grows ever stronger, “Run. Run. Run.” As the first scythe-dog claws up the tree she slithers the way down coiled around it, the scythe dog attempts to strike at the long slithering body but just misses. Halfway down the tree she lets go landing hard on the ground, the force of the impact is spread across her body and without missing a beat and with unknown knowledge she slithers away, gliding across the purple goo that earlier gave her so much trouble.

Faster, faster, faster still she moves, bobbing and weaving through the forest, slowing the pack behind her. The sensation of the ground running underneath her body felt alien yet so natural at the same time and despite the scythe-dog’s numbers they couldn’t catch up to Mephia and eventually broke off their pursuit when a group of the explode-upon-death birds came bursting out of the trees attacking everything.

Mephia batted them away, their claws and teeth bounce off of her head crest which has grown slightly larger with her recent transformation. They continue to harass her but are unable to injure her, only giving up when she dives back under the three of her base camp.

Mephia pants heavily with a slight hiss; her body twitches as it now takes up a little over twice as much space as it did before. The chirps of the flying creatures keep her there, but also give her the time to relax and recover her thoughts.

“Okay Mephia. You just lost your legs… you bloody lost your damn legs!” she exclaimed as she looks over herself. Her hand shakes as she feels the sharp spines along the sides of her lower half, the hunger she felt earlier now a hundred fold worse than before.

Her hand claws tensed as she went through her backpack in the search of food. At first taking items out nicely, steadily but as she got deeper and deeper into the back she began to toss them to the side, tear into the fabric, growling in frustration as she turns it inside out to find there is nothing.

“I have to eat something…” she growls as she throws the back to the back side of the trench. She pants and grunts shifting in the tight area with little trouble as she puts her hand on her face, her claws feel pronounce on the sides of her muzzle.

“Kill. Consume. Grow. Kill. Consume. Grow.”

The sensation rolled against the back of her mind as she takes a single deep breath and slowly lets it out. “The day is young. I have time. Those flying things probably caused them to disperse. If I wait a little bit I can leave and get one. I’m faster now. They won’t get away from me,” a fiendish grin comes across her mouth showing her teeth which have become twice as sharp as they were when she first arrived, “They won’t escape me this time. The hunt is on,” she mutters as she feels a rush through her, excitement, eagerness to just up and go right then, but she waits. She presses down her desire to leave now, for another half an hour before she slithers her way out from under the log. The spikes dig into the ground providing extra traction as she looks around. Her ears twist and turn focusing on the music of the forest but she only manages to travel a few feet away when one of the tri-winged explode upon death creatures screeches toward her.

Instinctively she turns and fires at it, the bullet pierces through the torso, green blood splatters out behind it as momentum carries it forward to the front of her gun before exploding.

Mephia recoils back as the random bits of flesh and spines that fly out hit her armored parts of her body doing no damage at all. She lets out a soft sigh of relief, “That was close but a waste of ammo,” she remarks as she takes half a tail length slither forward before stopping as she notices the barrel of her gun is slightly dented.

“No, no, no. This is not the time for this shit to happen,” she growls as she quickly removes the magazine and the round from the chamber as she gives the gun a quick examine. She runs a finger over the dent and growls, “I don’t have a backup barrel. I told them to let me bring at least half a dozen, but they wanted me to go minimalist. Damn those ignorant scientists,” she hisses out as she throws the weapon underneath the tree.

“Guess we’ll have to do this the up close, personal and fun away,” she mutters as she taps the holstered knife on her side, “With my new abilities it shouldn’t be an issue,” she remarks as she resumes her hunt.

Her ears twist and turn, fine tuning themselves to the noise of her prey, avoiding the sound of larger groups of the scythe-dogs as she attempts to find an isolated one. Her new limbs allow her to move stealthily through the forest. Eventually she comes to a small stream where one scythe-dog is busily grabbing a drink. Her glowing red eyes lock onto her target. The pain in her gut grows deeper, her mouth salivates at the sight.

Her muscles tense, heart racing as adrenaline rushes through her veins as she pulls out her knife. Slowly she inches herself closer and closer to her unsuspecting prey, the thoughts of tearing into its flesh fill the back of her mind. Excitement fills her like a child about to open presents for Christmas.

“A little more… a little closer,” she thinks as the creature suddenly lifts its head in her direction before bolting. “Shit!” she hisses out as she sprints after it. It leaps over bushes and fallen logs, slowing the gains she makes on it.

The scythe-dog lets out a chittering call for help as Mephia closes the distance, “You won’t get away from me!” she yells out, “Run. Run. Run.” a push in her mind as a moment later her ears pick up the sound of several scythe-dogs quickly approaching.

“Damn it!” she hisses as she slides to a halt and falls back, avoiding the reinforcements by a matter of moments as she retreats back to a place of safety. Panting heavily and licking the anticipation drool off of her lips she hits a nearby tree with her fist, “Damn it! I was so close. If only I had my gun. This wouldn’t be an issue…” she mutters as a thought enters her head.

“No… could I? But… I never had control over it, but those…,” the thought enters her mind as she mulls it over, but as she does her body twitches, and her head begins to throb.

“No! I was only thinking about it! I didn’t want it happen!” she yells out, her scream causes a few small insectoid-birds to fly away as she feels a throb in her head, her hands rush to her head as she growls in pain. The armored crest on her head growing out, becoming thicker, larger. The smooth outer chitin skull creeps down her head, rolling over her ears as they are instantly consumed, and for the moment deafening her to the world around her.

She hears the shifting of bone, the growth of muscles and new organs around her neck and head as from the top of her head back is shifted and further changed into the alien-naga that she killed. The head crest continues to grow as she closes her eyes as she feels only her muzzle becoming untouched by the changes. Small sections of her vixen nature between her head and neck are lost as the nature of the alien-naga becomes ever more pronounced.

“Hunt.”

“ Kill.”

“ Consume.”

“ Grow.”

“Hunt.”

“ _Kill.” _

“Consume.”

“Grow.”

The drive within her grows within the throb of pain shooting through her head. The sound of flesh shifting transmitted through her bone as she digs her hand claws into the tree trunk as she drags them down to leave deep gashes it the trunk. The purple ooze slowly covers the new opening as the sound of the world around her returns clearer, crisper than ever before.

The pain in her head slowly subsides as she looks around, her sense of sound shifting with it as her head has become what her ears were before. The footsteps of her prey in the distance, “Hunt.”

She licks her lips and tenses, the pain of hunger in her gut strong as she slithers in the new direction of the sound of one solitary scythe-dog, “Yes, yes. There’s one,” she mutters to herself with long drawn out emphasized hisses as the hunt resumes.

After some travel she draws close to her prey, she can hear it chewing on something, the sweet smell of torn open flesh and freshly spilt blood reaches her nose. Drool flows from her lips and down her chin, wettening her fur as she peers through the foliage to get a view on her target. Using her skill and know how she maneuvers around silently to get a clear shot.

Instinctively she feels her crest open up, a boney spike moves into position as she feels her new organ build up pressure to shoot. With slow controlled breathes she fires, the spike flies right over the scythe-dog’s head.

The creature jumps and looks turning to the direction of where the spike hit a tree. It’s back turned to Mephia as she grins, “Stupid thing,” as her organ pressurizes again as another spine projectile moves into place. _ “Kill.”_ She fires again. It flies and hits the back of the scythe-dog’s head and with a short lived whine it drops dead, “Kill.”

“Yes!” she yells out in excitement as she rushes over to it and flips it onto its back, “I’m famished,” she says as she takes the knife and drags it across its belly spilling its guts unleashing the sweet smell of victory upon her.

“Consume.”

“Consume.”

“Consume.”

Mephia tears into the beasts flesh eating the still warm flesh raw. The sweet delectable taste rolls in her mouth as the squishy organs slide down her throat and the next thing she knew there was nothing left but broken bones and chitinous armor. Her claws are covered in green blood, what’s left of her vixen fur mostly on her arms are soaked through with it. She pants heavily as she looks around, scanning the area around her, taking note she is safe for the time being before looking down at her kill.

“H-how… why,” she looks down at her blood soaked hands, “I don’t even…” she licks the blood off her lips, savoring the taste as she swallows, “This… this isn’t right,” she remarks as she retreats back to her home under the tree.

She looks at her bloodied claws and blinks, “Why… why didn’t I clean myself? I passed a stream I could have cleaned myself,” she says as she looks to her mirror. Her mostly vixen muzzle looks out of place on top of the mostly alien-visage. She runs her hands across her muzzle a small bit of dried blood flakes off onto her lips. She instinctively licks it up like it’s sweet candy.

“I… what did I just do? I should be disgusted that I just ate dried blood but, I don’t. This isn’t me. I know this isn’t me… how much of me is even left?” she wondered as she coils around herself, “I’ll report for an evac. Hopefully they’ll give me the signal to go to the pickup point,” she mutters as she spends the rest of the evening and night wondering… what is she now? Before sleep eventually takes her.

“Hunt.”

“ Kill.”

“ Consume.”

“ Grow.”

“ Mate” the sensation rubs against her mind as she finds herself running through the forest. Chased by something. She isn’t sure what but she must run. Run faster and faster, it was right upon her. She looked back only to see a set of glowing red eyes behind her.

Her feet catch a branch and she tumbles and falls rolling in the slimy ground and sliding to a stop at the edge of a lake. She looks down into the clear smooth waters and sees a red eyed alien-naga staring right back at her. Rows of sharp pointy teeth, a second lower jaw filled with teeth and two large incisors at the end.

She looks back over her long snaky body, as her upper arms are now those large deadly scythes. She pushes herself up with them as she turns to see a much larger alien-naga staring at her. Excitement rushes through her as an impulse becomes clear. “Mate.”

Mephia would wake up from this recurring dream over the next several days. Her repeated calls for extraction seemingly fall on deaf ears. The only success she’s had has been her hunts but now those have become more difficult as the scythe-dogs have retreated from the parts of the forest she controls.

“Hunt. Kill. Consume. Grow.” The urges gurgle up inside of her as she moves deeper into the forest in the search of prey. She scans for anything, any noise that could be considered viable for a meal.

“It’s been two days since I had a decent meal,” she mentally grumbles as something catches her attention. The sound of a lone scythe-dog. She licks her lips with delight as she makes her way over. Her military training and instincts work together to approach the prey but as she approaches she hears a loud pitched whine followed by an audible snap.

“What was that? Perhaps I should… I can’t stop investigating, I need to know,” she thinks as the sweet scent of blood reaches her. But mixed within it is another aroma, one she has not caught before. She felt a tingle run down her spine a warmth build deep in the lower regions of her naga body.

Cautiously she approaches to see one of those hydra-like naga things which have already made quick work out of its most recent kill. She stares at it, the much larger specimens, with at least three feet in height and another six or eight feet in length over her.

“I should watch,” she thinks.

“Mate.”

She twitches and squirms shaking a growth of arousal as she looks over the fine specimen of the species. The hard armored plates across its body, the powerful spines and large head crest. Those rows of teeth and large scythes that come out of its arms. Her lower plates tensed and slightly parted as she watched the blood trickle down them.

Her breathing grew heavy, her body tensed as before she knew it she was out in the open “standing” before the larger creature. It’s attention instantly locked onto her, their eyes meet. It let out a chittering hiss, its scythe arms dug into the ground several times as its jaws open as drool flows freely from its mouth.

“What am I doing here? I… I,” she feels herself outclassed by the larger one as it slithers closer. A low hiss escapes out of Mephia’s mouth as she feels something within her build, the scent of the other creature smells sweet, delectable, as she catches the plates in its lower region of its body beginning to part as well.

“Mate.”

Mephia recoils, “No, no. I am not… is this is what the body is wanting? Oh fuck no!” she thinks as she pulls back but the moment she does the larger creature strikes out. A burst of instincts pulls her arms out to meet the blows but at the last moment she pulls away the blades slice down into her arms, green blood flows freely from the wounds as she yells out in pain.

The larger creature strikes out again its scythe blades hit against her chitinous hide but doing no real damage. She tries to move away but it maneuvers around her with the same lightning fast reflexes that she posses.

It moves over her, coiling its body around her lower half, the hard chitin armor plates grind against one another which sends lust and pleasure through her. A moan escaped her lips as her plates open more. She looks down to see the other’s plates have parted all the way revealing purple flesh, and sliding out of it is a massive spike tipped flesh with dozens of curled alien-barbs around the head and down its side.

“No… no,” she moans as the scythe arms of the large one runs across her back, pulling her closer as she feels the need. Their red glowing eyes meet, the large towering behemoth overpowering her body as it begins to position itself, as the coils of its length tighten around her.

“Mate”

She keeps her arms back against her body the blood still dripping down them as she feels the massive girth alien-cock grind against her chitin armor. The wet flesh makes her moan out again as she feels her smaller length brush up against its hard scales.

“What?” Mephia’s mind puts together a foreign yet enjoyable sensation as she manages to look down to see a purple fleshy cock grinding up against the larger alien cock. A lump forms in her throat as swallows it down hard.

“Mate.”

The desire pushes her forward, as the creature squeezes harder, to the breaking point of her chitin armor. Pain shoots through her as the creature hisses at her. Her eyes lock back onto it’s before Mephia grabs her dagger and drives it into the soft fleshy opening in its chest.

The creature yells out in pain as she pushes the blade in as deep as it can go, sliding it in between two armored plates. The larger one screeches out in pain as its scythe blades slam into her back as she hears a crack and a pain of what feels like broken bone.

“I am not your bitch!” she yells out as she drives the blade in as deep as she can and then some before the creature with its body writhing in pain flings her across the small opening and into a tree.

She groans out as she looks at the creature yelling out in pain, blood flows from the wound like a waterfall. Still clenching the blade she looks down at it to see the blade has snapped clean off of it.

Her would be mate stares at Mephia, it’s red eyes locked onto her as it charges scythe arm blades out and all she can do is dodge out of the way, slithering around trees, which it cuts through like a hot knife through butter. The trees snap and tumble to the ground as she tries everything she can do to avoid being caught.

With relentless fury it continues to strike out at her. But with each passing moment the creature’s movements grow slower and slower. A trail of green blood follows everywhere in its wake and after only a few minutes of endless strikes against Mephia, each she just barely dodges the creature collapses with a thud. Blood pools where it lands as it attempts to get up, its limbs shake as it hisses out at Mephia who watches from a safe distance.

“Consume.”

“ Grow.”** **

She continues to watch, waiting, slithering around it, as she waits for it to completely bleed out and even then she takes a long stick broken off from one of the trees it knocked down to poke it, and only a few minutes after it being unresponsive of this does she move in.

“I am not your mate,” she hisses out at it as she pushes the creature onto its back.

“Consume.”

“ Grow.”

Her stomach grows, reminding her of the reason she came this far in the first place. She was hungry, famished. She looks down at it and licks her lips, “You will do.”

Reaching in for her blade she finds herself unable to grab it with her fingers. She pulls at the armor plates, trying to peel them away but after a half an hour of tireless efforts she hasn’t managed to pull one off.

“Consume.”

“ Grow.”

“ Consume.”

_“ Grow.” _

“Consume.”

Her hands twitch and grow stiff as she fails to pull of the plate for one last time. She yells out in frustration, “Come on! I’m hungry!” she hisses out as she feels the fur fall from her arms, clumps at a time, glued together by her dried blood. Mephia looks at the changes with a conflict of sensations within her. Armor grows along the armos, muscles grow and thicken as she feels the new strength flowing through her. She pants with an almost lustful delight as she struggles with everything. She watches as her fingers slowly merge together.

“Yes… no. Yes… but…

“Consume.”

“ Grow.”

“I will get the delicious food, the sweet food. I’m so hungry,” she licks her teeth as she feels them become loose. She recoils in surprise as she spits out her dental work as small razor sharp teeth are pushing out in their place.

Her fingers now merging to become one, as white boney scythe blades grow out from her wrist. Farther and farther it grows as she hears crunch and snap around her face as the last vestiges of her face are covered in brown chitinous armor, a second lower jar springs from the sides of her mouth, making her mouth sore in the process.

She moves her new jaws as she lets out a hungry hiss. Her hands raise up before she crashes down hard onto the fallen of her species and with a sickening crack and a spray of green blood she breaks through the armor plate.

“Consume.”

“ Grow.”

Mephia tries to speak but discovers her tongue is no more. Drool flows out of her mouth as she looks at the body, her scythe arms breaking more armor plates revealing the delectable flesh underneath.

“Reports are…”

“Consume.”

“ Grow.”

“Hmm food,” she thinks as she tears into the naga-alien like a ravenous beast she just slew. Despite having no tongue she can taste the delicious wonderful meat sliding down her throat, the sound of tearing flesh, the cracking of bones, music to her ears, soothing the ravenous hunger within her. Blood drips down her scythe blade arms as she eats, and eats, and eats.

With each slab of meat that flows down her throat she feels herself grow stronger, better. Her body growing larger, longer. Strength fills her body as she defends her kill from scavengers for the next two days, and by the light of the third day there is nothing but a husk of the creature.

Mephia stirs from her slumber, “Hunt. Kill. Consume. Grow.” linger in the back of her mind. Her dream pleasant but unable to be remembered as she pops out of the hole in the ground she made. She looks at the remains and hisses softly showing off rows of her deadly teeth. A sense of accomplishment comes over her as she clears a spot on the ground and with her claws dig deep gashes into the ground. Once finished she taps the side of her head as the visor forms around her right eye. She looks down at what she did and it says, “Here. Well.” Before she ends transmission.

“The nanite infused visor still works. Now to get some breakfast. I’m famished,” she thinks as she heads off on her newest hunt.

She hunts the scythe-dogs successfully time and time again. The rush of being the apex predator in the area feels delightful. She grins happily as she ventures further, monitoring other species in their native habitat, all that flee in her presence, except for the occasional exploding insects which barely scratch her powerful reinforced armor.

“Food. Grow. Hmm. All food. All mine,” she thinks as she travels into new territory. She stops and turns her head, surveying the forest around her. Instinct presses her forward as her mind struggles with the constant need. The constant reinforcing delight to do what her body tells her to do. It felt so natural to do so. So right. She catches the scent, another. Another like her.

“Mate.”

Her body releases a natural aroma signaling her desires as she moves in the direction of her newest prey. Her nether armor plates slowly part as she gets closer. The excitement, the lust builds.

“Mine. All mine,” she thinks as she hears the sound of food being consumed by one of her kind. “Good hunter. Good. Yes very good.”

She comes reaches the other just as it was finishing a meal, its scythes bloodied, flesh stuck to its teeth as it quickly turns its attention to Mephia. Their glowing eyes lock as it digs it’s scythe blades into the ground several times.

“Challenge. I will win,” she thinks as she repeats the motions, “Challenge accepted.”

“Mate.”

They charge each other, scythe blades clash, their size and strength equal. But Mephia is a seasoned veteran. She’s fought others of her kind, another Alpha, the one she consumed, and her knowledge as an elite military hunter provided her with a massive unfair advantage over the simple beast.

In under a minute her coils surrounded the other, her scythe blades pinned the others against its body as it let out a deep chittering hiss. Their eyes locked as the other squirmed and wiggled within her tight grip, which grew ever tighter, tighter still. The more it squirmed the tighter the grip became.

“Submit,” she thinks

“Mate.”

The other hisses out but then suddenly stops its squirming right before the point of breaking its armor plates. It lowers its head and draws its scythe blades against its body, its purple cock flesh submissive grinds against her armor plates as her massive fat length dominantly leaves a trail of juices across the underside of its scales.

“Mate.”

The instincts push her as she coils around, grinding her body against his. Her female sex which lays in the same open armored vent twitches in delight. Arousal fills the air as she pants heavily. A low gutteral hiss as her body coils around the other, as she positions herself against the other, rubbing her cock dominantly against the other, forcing it to angle up and grind helplessly against her armor plates before she drives her flesh into the open vent of the other naga-alien.

The other lets out a deep hiss, jaws open, second jaw-mandibles spread wide as Mephia humps against her submissive. Her scythe arms tightly embracing and pinning him against her.

“Mine. You are mine,” she thinks as she presses the dome of her head against the other.

“Obey. Submit. You are mine. Mine. Mine,” the thoughts grow.

“Mate.”

Her head begins to ache. Throb, throb like her throbbing cock that slides in and out of the soft tender flesh with a wet squelch. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through the two, rubbing the instinctual desire built into their species.

Her head aches as presses harder against her submissive. There was no love. Simply lustful, unadulterated passionate instincts. The desire to breed. To propagate. To be the dominant. Strands of slimy alien fluids are left between the two as the submissive’s cock is grinded against the armor plates of the underside of their bodies.

“Mate.”

She humps harder, faster, the throb in her head grows, her senses slowly expanding as she pants heavily.

“Grow.”

“Control”

“Grow.”

“Control”

“Expand.”

“Mate”

“Create.”

“Make.”

“Hosts.”

“Control.”

“Dominate.”

“Mate.”

“Control.”

“Grow.”

With a hard thrust she climaxes into the other beast. She lets out a dominating hiss as she floods into the lesser’s body and into its mind. She feels as if she bursts through a viel. Untapped instinctual aggression, and lust.

“Hunt.”

“Kill.”

“Consume.”

“Grow.”

“Mate.”

The basic desires of the beast before her. She continued to hump, staring at it as she felt these same desires within her being. Driving her forward. She knew of them. She felt them. They were as natural as breathing. She floods another load of her hot sticky glowing green seed into it, diving deeper into its mind, connecting to its simple thoughts, its inferior mind and like a maestro over an orchestra began to add new notes to the melody that was its mind.

“Hunt.”

“Submit.”

“Kill.”

“Defend”

“Consume.”

“Hunt.”

“Corrupt.”

“Grow.”

“Obey.”

“Mate.”

“Serve.”

A third load flows into the beast who pants and hisses submissively. It’s eyes glow with a bestial desire as it sees Mephia. It’s reason of existence. Her will, was its purpose. It was a puppet. To be controlled. To obey. The simple creature had no resistance to the strength of Mephia’s advanced evolved mind.

“Yes. Good. Accept. Serve. Safety in numbers. Safety together,” she thinks as she coils more around him as she pumps her seed into his female sex while a stream of spent glowing male seed has squirted out between them. The glowing liquid trickling down their chitin armor.

“You are not deserving for me to carry,” she thinks running her scythe blades along the other’s back.

Clachunk, zip, the sound of metal against metal draws Mephia and the other out of the moment as they find thick reinforced wired net wrap around them. The net quickly tightens so tightly around them it is impossible to move and squirm.

“Who? What? How?!”

“Kill.”

“Kill.”

“Kill.”

“Defend.”

“Protect.”

“Survive.”

“Kill.”

The force of her instincts coursed through her as she looked around barely able to look up as they hoisted off the ground into the same pick up ship that dropped her off ages ago. Her visor pops on as words appear over her eye.

“You’re month is over. Extracting. Good work Mephia.”

“Now? I’m… “

“Kill.”

She squirms and takes a deep breath while the other is hissing and yelling wildly, trying its best to move but to no avail as they are pulled up into the ship, the bomb bay doors close underneath as they are hoisted into a cage.

“Till we can detoxify you, and revert your surprising level of changes you will remain in confinement. Apologies for the inconvenience,” it reads. The scientists from their research station high above the planet look over themselves congratulating. A red scaled anthropomorphic raptor in a white lab coat looks over at the head scientist an anthropomorphic dragon.

“Is it wise to lie to her like this sir? It might be best to tell her that the changes ran rampant and they far exceeded what we could possibly undo by the time we realized, it was too late.”

The blue bodied and red chest scaled furred dragon smiles and waves her off as he brushes some brown hair away from his muzzle, his before he idly plays with his long blue eastern style dragon whiskers, “My dear Scarlet. How do you think she’ll take it? We need to at least placate her and feign trying before we break it to her… that is if she even understands us anymore. Now why don’t you prepare for her arrival. I want her to feel comfortable and welcomed while here.”

“Yes Doctor,” scarlet replies as she walks off.

Another scientist anthropomorphic eastern style slender purple dragon with an out of place golden nose ring whispers to him “Do you think that’s a good idea? Perhaps we should let her in on the fact we planned this to weaponize the creatures on the planet.”

He waves him off, “Hardly. We needed her for her bio-nanite skills, or this would have never worked. We’ll keep up the ruse, and if it becomes problematic, I’ll solve it.”

“If you say so.”

“I do,” he remarks.

Meanwhile back at the ship, the female armor curved breast plated naga-alien that is Mephia hisses softly, remaining calm unlike the other till she transmits the instinctive sensation to him.

“Obey.”

“Calm.”

The other relaxing as she thinks, and ponders, looking at her current cage as in the back of her mind she feels another instinct caress the back of her mind, sending delightful shivers through her, almost as good as the sex she just had.

“Corrupt.”

“Create.”

“Hosts.”