FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The high pitched whine coming from hundreds of stressed computer cooling fans echoed throughout the warehouse sized room, while overworked hard drives clicked and rattled unhealthily in their alcoves. Vibrations resonated across the metal grating that made up the floor, sending shivers up the support beams and trying to shake bolts loose, little more than rust holding them in place. Groaning mightily, juggling trillions of lines of code across hundreds of overheated processors, the system drew power from the fusion core under the reflective return platform, while it's twin hanging from the ceiling jerked to life a moment later. A loud popping noise rang out from one of the computer servers, followed by the smell of burning plastic and the introduction of an alarm beeping sadly to itself.

Space warped and twisted for a fraction of a second between the silver platforms, creating a portal between worlds and dragging through any matter it could grab on to. Heaving a mechanical sigh of relief, a loud sputtering of displaced air accompanied the forms of an armoured valravyne and a blood drenched ratkin flickering into existence on the raised platform, the reality drive slowly spinning down to a well deserved idle.

Massive lights hanging from the ceiling buzzed as they flickered to life, shining down upon Traget as she re-orientated herself. Shaking off the light-headedness that seemed to accompany a reality shift, her paws slipped gracelessly across the frictionless surface of the return pad, her reflection mimicking her in the mirror finish. With her legs slithering around beneath her as they struggled to restore traction, she threw open her wings and rolled her tail wildly, just as her chest-plate collided painfully with the silver pad. Cursing the world in general, she braced her legs and, moving with extreme care, slowly raised back up into a standing position. Metal fingers clicked out of her gloves and she delicately scooped Ammon up, holding the ratkin awkwardly against her chest with a foreleg.

Body still numb from the pain killers, she fired her wing jets and fumbled Ammon, nearly dropping her before grabbing a fistful of fur and roaring across the room towards the main entry door, the ratkin dangling below her. Landing heavily on her hind legs and throwing her wings out for stability, Traget balanced there for a moment, wondering how she would carry the ratkin towards the medical bay. Leaning back and placing her long tail against the ground to support herself, Traget twisted the smaller female around uncertainly. There seemed to be no easy way to carry Ammon on her back with the duffel bag perched between her wings, nor did she possess the flexibility to hold the ratkin to her chest while on all fours.

Swinging her wings in front of herself, Traget dropped down on to the floor, supporting herself with hind legs and the tips of her wings, Ammon clutched tightly to her chest with her forlegs. Applying a gentle thrust to her jets, she slowly skidded along the ground, metal wings grinding against the floor grating and kicking up sparks, until she was forced to stop at the heavy metal blast doors leading into the rest of the facility. With her wings spread, both the doorway and the following hall would be too narrow to allow for free movement.

Carefully laying Ammon on the ground, Traget rolled her wings idly in the air, trying to puzzle out this brain teaser. Grumbling angrily, she gave up within moments and just grabbed the little female by the tail, dragging her down the corridor on her back.

Situated just a short walk down the hallway, the on-site medical facilities were basic, but when staffed by a trained nurse, still capable of treating most work related injuries. Several cupboards and a specimen refrigerator lined the white walls, with long, printed lists stuck to the doors on them detailing their contents. Opposite the entrance was another door, leading to the compact bathroom.

In the centre sat two slightly raised and padded platforms, one covered in sterile plastic wrapping, the other draped in old blankets and pillows. It was to these Traget dragged Ammon, before unceremoniously yanking the ratkin onto the cleaner of the two beds and throwing the duffel bag into a corner.

“Sorry about the mess," Traget mumbled, acutely aware of the dishevelled state of the room. “I usually sleep in here. It's the only room with beds. And it didn't seem worth dragging one in from somewhere else. And I never really expected anyone else to ever be here."

She pawed at her stomach gingerly, noting the red smears of blood Ammon had left on her armour, before leaning down and listening to Ammon's chest. The complete lack of a heart beat and low body temperature did not seem encouraging.

Pulling up her own HUD medical report, she noted that her armour seemed to be keeping her stable for the moment, her heart being assisted by the suit's on board systems. This wasn't the first time she had come close to death, and she supposed as long as she wore the armour, her body would eventually heal itself. Deciding not to worry about it unless her medical report got worse, she hummed softly, wondering what to do about Ammon.

A scuffed, silver bench set against the wall held various medical equipment and was built in the style of all valravne furniture, being set only a few inches from the ground. Laying down in front of it and propping herself up on her elbows, Traget pushed aside a half finished diorama of a train station, sending plastic figures scattering across the tabletop as she pulled an auto-suture from it's recharge cradle. Twisting it around, she squinted at the instruction tag hanging from the handle.

“It says to sterilise the area before use." She remarked, clicking the power button and listening to the quiet whirr as it started up. Plastic staples ejecting from the tip, before falling down through the floor grating and into the drainage gutter below. “I think all the disinfectants expired decades ago."

Pulling herself back to her feet, she rummaged through the supply cupboards until she found a bottle of disinfectant. Sloshing the brown liquid back and forth in it's glass jar, she eyed the ratkin uncertainly. “I'm not really sure if expiration dates mean much to anti-bacterial stuff, though. So I'll... I think I need to take your clothes off. I guess if, uh... You wear clothes, so I suppose you don't like being seen without them." Slosh went the bottle. You're talking to a corpse again, you idiot, she thought. “I can relate to that. The others used to laugh at me for wearing my armour all the time. They never really wore anything at all, not unless they went outside."

Traget carefully placed the bottle of disinfectant on the ground, her bloodstained hand trembling as she stared into those lifeless eyes. “But I'm sure this isn't really interesting to you." She wavered for a moment, then reached out and gently pushed Ammon's head to the side, so she was looking the other way. Not Ammon. The body. Ammon is gone.

“I'm sorry." she sighed wistfully, sliding down to the floor. “I should have just left you back at the village. Maybe they could have done something. Maybe magic could have helped you. But it's still your fault you were attacked, you stupid bint."

She idly tapped her fingers against the ground, unsure what to do. She had just gone to visit another world, yet somehow four people had ended up dead and two more were imprisoned. Out loud, she said. “Today did not go how I expected it to. Fucking magic users. Never met someone before, better throw mind control at them. No wonder my ancestors killed everyone who could do that."

Traget reached down and popped a panel open on her armour, pulling out the light crystal she had taken earlier. Twisting it around, she noticed the heat it had emitted was no longer present. “So how does this thing work? Some mystical energy that makes a lump of rock light up, that can also change the way someone thinks. Any random person walking around with that kind of power. Fucking terrifying, really."

She laughed softly. “Though, Tehide would have loved this. He always liked fantasy stories and movies. Well, they were fantasy to us. I guess not to you."

She wagged her tail gently, the metal squealing against the floor as she conjured up the image of the elderly, red feathered Valravne. He had been old before she had even been born, a grandfather who had lost everyone to the war. “He used to read stories to me when I was still young, about wizards and adventurers. The heroes fighting against villains, for justice and blah. And all the relics we used to find left over from the humans and all the weird shit they'd do." She poked a metal finger into the crystal, trying to provoke a reaction. It stubbornly remained inert. “If I could have shown him something really magical, even just a light... But he died. Old age."

She closed her eyes, a deep weariness overtaking her. “Radiation got the rest. It'll get me, too, eventually, I suppose. But that's alright. We all go sooner or later, right?"

Her throat constricted at the thought, and she thought back to Ammon's last words. Letting out a frustrated huff of air, she flicked the crystal across the room, only for it to bounce off the far wall and land back next to her feet. “Unless you're right about an afterlife. But you seemed pretty scared for someone who thinks there's life after death."

Traget glanced towards the open door, the dim light from outside the room absorbed by the cold grey, metal walls. How many ghosts would walk these halls if such things were real? Her ears drooped sadly before she shook her body, the sound of metal striking against metal chasing away the silence.

“So, I need to beat the shit out of the Red Bitch and get Kincade and Melissa back." she said, climbing to her feet and pacing about the room. “This armour isn't really meant for fighting. The heavy weapons models are more powerful, but slower, so I'm not sure that's any better." She snorted humorlessly. “Except for terrifying the locals, I suppose." She stopped pacing and glared at Ammon. “I've read sci-fi books, you know? I've seen the movies. I knew there would be cultural differences from another reality. But what am I supposed to do when people just run in fear when they see me?"

“Kincade shit himself, Melissa threw magic at me, they all think I'm a demon. Maybe I was a bit too aggressive. So were they really, but just in a different way." She tried swallowing again, but the lump in her throat refused to go down. She snatched the light crystal up again and spun it in her fingers. Think of something else, anything else. “It's their world. I need to adjust to it, I suppose... Damn, I need some booze. So much easier to be cheerful when you're hammered, don't you think? Like a Hurricane. Have you ever tried one of them?" She started miming the mixing of a cocktail. “It's really sweet and strong. You fill a glass with ice and put some lime juice in it. Then you add, uh, what was it? White rum, and dark rum I think. Passion fruit juice, orange juice. I think a table spoon of sugar syrup and one of grenadine. Then add an orange slice and a cherry to it. A few of them and you'll sleep like the dea -"

She laughed nervously and stared at the wall, a soft clicking noise coming from her hand as her metal fingers spun the crystal around. “Everyone I met today is worse off for meeting me."

Traget lay staring at Ammon's body for a minute, the impact of her actions running through her mind. Climbed to her feet and carefully placing the bottle of disinfectant back in it's cupboard, she turned and looked over the unmade bed she had claimed as her own. Several unwashed blankets lay crumpled on the thin mattress, with the holographic display of a computer placed in front for easy viewing. Old, dog eared books lay crumpled and abused amidst empty food wrappers and bottles, while half finished meals sat congealing in the bottom of their bowls. There had been little reason to look after herself of late, and it had been a long time since there had been anyone to impress.

“It was nice to hear someone else's voice again." She said, her voice like a shout in the quiet room.

Placing the light crystal on the bench and picked up the auto suture, she moved back to Ammon's side. “All I can say is, I'm sorry. The only way to go is forward, as the saying goes. And, I'm gonna have to...Uh..."

Traget's claws clicked as they slid into place, flecks of that bright red blood marring their rusted surface. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she carefully slid the triple blades down Ammon's robe, the dull edges catching and tearing the fabric as it pulled free from her body. Peeling the bloody rags open, she left them to hang down next to the body.

“Um, anyway." She shifted uncomfortably, fascinated by the alien body before her, yet uneasy about the gore covered remains. “So my lasers did hurt the Red Bitch, but didn't do any permanent damage. Maybe plasma weapons, next time?"

The torn sides of Ammon's wound hung open, the flesh pale and sickly. Without the bleeding, or Ammon's hands to block the view, a thick purple membrane covered in fleshy nodules was protruding from between the ragged edges of skin. Feeling sick, Traget hesitantly poked at it, a shiver of disgust running down her body. “I'm going to have to, uh... Just push that back... Erhm."

Argh, why did I do this next to my bed? She thought, lying down next to Ammon and slowly pushing down on the bulge, feeling it squish and distend under her fingers. Forcing herself to continue, she managed to force the bloated flesh back inside, before quickly squeezing the two halves of the wound together. Pressing the auto suture against the overlapping skin, she blindly fired the staples in until the machine ran dry.

Scrambling back to her feet, she shook her foreleg wildly, revolted by the flecks of coagulated blood and bile that flew from her hand. Right, I can never wear these gloves again, she thought, certain she would never get her hand to stop shaking. Grow up, you idiot! It's just a dead body. This is never going to wash off. Think of something else!

“So, so, my claws are blunt as fuck." she said, flexing her hand repeatedly. “Maybe that's why they didn't hurt her? She must have a force field or something around her body. I could try armour piercing bullets."

Settling down, she rubbed at her helmet. She needed sleep. A shower, then sleep. Sleep in another room, without a corpse in it, she thought, looking at Ammon properly for the first time. The ratkin seemed physically similar to both Jozlene and Melissa, the same basic bone and muscular structure, just covered in brown fur. The head and tail seemed to be the biggest differences between them. I suppose all bipeds have to conform to fairly similar designs, she thought, pulling away.

“Although, now I'm thinking you might have magic. And if you do..." Traget said, trailing off thoughtfully. If ratkin were inherently magical, then this was a perfect opportunity to get an example of a magical creature. She knew the locations of a couple of hospitals nearby, once equiped with high end medical scanners, MRI machines and other diagnostic devices. Depending on how well they had weathered the past few decades, it may be possible to get them working and, if so, determine the biological component that created magic. But how to get her there? she mused, pulling open the cupboard doors and looking for something she could use as a body bag.

“It has to be a biological thing in you, right?" Traget asked, slamming the cupboard doors shut irritably at the lack of anything suitable. She stood thoughtfully, tapping her toes against the ground. “So it has to be something you have, that I don't. A thing in the brain, maybe? Kincade said a soul, whatever the fuck that means."

Spotting the duffel bag in the corner, she visually sized it up compared to the ratkin's body. Ammon certainly wasn't a big creature. Unzipping the bag, she began dumping the food and supplies on to the floor. “Melissa made a force field, so what are the limits of magic? It has to conform to some laws, so how did the Red Bitch match my strength? I did a visual scan on her, and there's no possible way her muscles mass and bone structure should've let her overpower my armour."

She pulled the half eaten bag of jerky Kincade had been snacking on out of the bag and eyed it suspiciously. She couldn't remember seeing him wash his talons after he had been having sex with Melissa, or before he had rifled through the bag. “Is giving someone oral sex cannibalism, do you suppose? You're basically eating a product of the body, after all."

She threw the bag away, the slight heat building in her stomach at the thoughts of sex nowhere near as strong as it had been even half an hour earlier. Whatever power had enforced such urgency seemed to have faded, leaving nothing more than a simple, empty longing that was far too familiar. “Fat lot of good a sex drive has ever done me." she said, her voice bitter. “Did you know you can wear a dildo out? That seems like something no one should ever have to find out."

She flexed her metal gauntlets angrily. “The fucking end knob snaps off inside you. You know hard it is to get that out with hands like these?" She stopped, forcing her mind back on track. “Anyway. Right. Uh… The Red Bitch."

“So… Maybe she had some sort of molecular binding field? I can't think of anything else that would let her be that strong. But they were just theoretical. I remember reading about a couple of prototypes systems being made, but they never really worked. Throw magic into the mix and I have no idea how strong they could make someone." Dropping the bag next to Ammon, she hesitated once more, unsure how to proceed. It was best not to think about what she was doing, just cram the body into the bag and get going.

“Sorry," Traget muttered finally, grasping Ammon's shoulders awkwardly and dragging the body into the bag, stuffing her head towards the far end. Pressed roughly against one end, the ratkin's legs and tail were left dangling out of the other side. “So, force fields are easy. You take a bunch of photons and force them into a crystalline array, making a solid shell to protect something. That's what my armour does, but it has computers and generators and photon emitters built specifically to do that. The idea that a biological brain could possibly be capable of duplicating like that is unreal, yet Melissa just threw that shit around like it was nothing."

Able to take hold of both of Ammon's ankles in one hand, Traget tried to fold them up against the grey furred chest, only to find the legs kept slipping off to either side. Grabbing them both once more, she held them down forcefully, only to find two glassy eyes staring accusingly up at her. Her face grew hot with guilt, before she pulled the zipper down over the ratkin's face and forced the feet under the closed section. Two arms dangling from the sides and the long, hairless tail were all that were left, the rest of the body compacted into the bag in a humiliating position.

Traget paused for a few seconds, hoping Ammon hadn't been a shy creature. With her feet up by her head and her hips raised to the sky, a dignified burial was not her fate. Traget cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Do you know, when the Red Bitch was jerking Kincade off, she shoved her whole fist up his arse? I mean, who does that?" She looked down at Ammon, exasperation in her voice. “She didn't even ask first, just rammed it up there, assuming he'd like it. And he didn't say anything about it! Is that normal for you people?"

Traget reached out and grabbed Ammon's tail, bending it over and trying to force it into the bag as well, struggling to find space for it. “The Red Bitch said she'd give them sex. Make them beg for more, or something. Is that what they want? Do they like sex that much?"

She twisted the tail around in her hands, confused. Knowing a new reality would have different laws and social rules to her own, she had, despite a few failures, tried her best not to judge or overreact to any unusual situations. Yet the openness and trust Melissa and Kincade had shown one another from the moment they had met was baffling. Within minutes of meeting each other they had been having sex in the middle of a forest. The idea of getting close enough to even touch someone without her armour on sent a chill down Traget's spine. She couldn't imagine being so desperate for sex as to be intimate with someone she didn't even know. “Should I just… I don't know. Just leave them there? Maybe they're happy having sex with the Red Bitch."

Tugging experimentally at the base of the tail, a resounding crack filling the air as one of the vertebrae in Ammon's tail snapped from the abuse. Traget flinched squeamishly, unable to suppress the shiver that ran down her form at the noise. “Soo-oo, um. Uh. Molecular binding increases the attraction between molecules, right? It makes something stronger and more durable than it could otherwise be, without increasing mass."

Finally pushing Ammon's arms into the bag, Traget exhaled with relief as she zipped it up, leaving the tail hanging from the one end. Checking her work, the black bag bulged in strange places, and would certainly arouse suspicion were it taken anywhere for other people to see it, but otherwise seemed to be holding together. “And, uh. I think a Molecualr Binding field would explain why I couldn't hurt her."

Pushing her head through the strap, Traget swung the bag up between her wings and tried to ignore the fleshy slap that came every time Ammon's tail hit the side of her armour. “Not sure anything can withstand plasma claws, though. Or a fusion bomb."

Satisfied the bag wouldn't fall from her back, she headed out the door and down the corridor towards the elevator shaft she had used to get down here, her heavy paws clanging loudly against the metal floor as she moved faster than she normally would have. She huffed out, “A fusion bomb in the Red Bitch's bathroom would be entertaining. Though the collateral damage might be a little excessive."

Passing several closed blast doors, she eventually reached the entrance check point, shattered glass crunching under her metal paws. Heading to the elevators on the far end of the room, she brought up her communications HUD and contacted the Mako, the small spaceship still sitting where she had parked it, no more than a block away from her current location. A sharp, high pitched whine hurt her ears as the channel opened, before a synthesised female voice spoke up. “Mako online. System ready."

“Run warm up and prepare ship for launch."

“Activating bed warmers. Food inventory does not contain sheep for lunch."

Traget's whole body stiffened, before she screamed into the microphone, “You bullshitting liar! I ran that fucking voice training five fucking times! Don't start this shit again!"

“I'm sorry, I did not understand that." The computer replied.

“You cunt guzzling bastard!" Violently flipping the cover from her wrist keyboard, she closed the voice commands and stabbed at the keys furiously, before stopping and clenching her fist tightly. She knew this sort of reaction wasn't acceptable. If she wanted to spend time around other people, especially other species that were frightened just by her appearance, then remaining calm and in control was essential.

“Alright. It's stupid. I'm being stupid. Just… Just…" She forced her body to relax, taking deep breaths and counting softly. “One... Two... Three... Fo- ucking computer! All it has to do is listen for words and then make it happen! Is that so bloody hard?"

She glared over her shoulder at the duffel bag perched between her wings. It offered no comment. She nodded, muttering, “Right, not hard at all." She reached for the keyboard before pausing, then slapped her wrist keyboard closed. “Maybe … Maybe I'll fly us there, instead. It's not really that far, so using a spaceship is probably a waste of fuel."

The Mako could certainly wipe out the red bitch, right? She thought, suddenly. The small ship was one of the many toys she had picked up during her scavenger years. Built as a luxury yacht for a wealthy executive of a fast food chain, the ship's original owner had been paranoid enough to outfit it with automated cannons, missile launchers and high spec force fields that could, despite it's inability to understand spoken language, allow it to hold it's own against anything less than military aircraft, with the added advantage of an interior designed to be comfortable for a rich narcissist.

She enjoyed the fantasy of firing a high yield missile down the red woman's throat for a moment longer, before dismissing the idea. Nothing larger than the transport pads could get through the reality drive, and the Mako certainly couldn't fit. No, she thought. I need to focus on freeing Melissa and Kincade. Vengeance can come later. Sweet, sweet vengeance...

“Plasma claws, that's what I need. I'll rip her open from cunt to throat." she announced, climbing into the elevator shaft and standing on top of the ruined remains of the car, the metal creaking in protest from her weight. She flared her wings, before reconsidering. Igniting her jets in such a small space would envelope her in the exhaust heat and fumes, not normally a problem, but would most likely incinerate her backpack. Clicking her tongue against her beak thoughtfully, she reared onto her hind legs and activated her claws, experimentally digging them into the concrete wall. A spider web of cracks spread from the holes she had forced into the wall, so she repositioned herself to grip the metal frame that held the elevator's counterweight, trying to find a solid grip amidst the forest of cables.

“Oh, fuck everything." She mumbled, staring straight up. Above her, the dark tunnel stretched on for hundreds of meters, a small square of light at the end the only source of illumination to be seen. Sighing irritably, she began the long climb upwards.

---

The room was without windows, so Melissa had no idea how long she had been hanging from the out stretched arms of the incubus statue, speared uncomfortably upon the figure's oversized manhood. The ratman Roe had promised someone would be along to check up on her, yet despite falling into shallow sleep several times due to sheer exhaustion, there was no evidence anyone had been past, and she hoped it would remain that way.

Hissing in pain as she pulled her arm, blood trickling down the mage's palm as the metal cuff gouged into her thumb and wrist. Hours of supporting her portly body with her arms, just to stop from sliding further down onto the incubus statue's shaft had left her shoulders aching and arms sore; yet the thought of being trapped here fuelled her desperate attempt to gain freedom, urging her past her limit.

Sweat trickled down her face and tears formed in the corners of her eyes, while her instinctively clenching canal suckled like a hungry calf on the unyielding marble phallus buried inside it, her swollen clit briefly touching the shaft with every sway of her body, insufficient to provide enjoyable friction. The burning need for an orgasm forced on her by the succubus queen had left her at the height of arousal, yet the statue's spire splitting her open gave little pleasure, it's immense girth straining her muscles so wide she was nearly locked in place around it.

Nevertheless, with a final jerk of her arm Melissa wrenched her bloody hand free from the manacle, her body swinging and the stone dildo inside slamming with agonising force against her cervix. Tears blurred her vision as she swung right, grabbing at the manacle holding her other wrist and pulling the loops of chain free from the statue's arm. The muscles in her biceps burned as she clutched the marble chest of the incubus before her like a twisted parody of two lovers, the shackles around her feet refusing to let her gain enough height to dismount her seat.

Bracing herself for the pain to come, Melissa wrapped the chain attached to her right hand around her wrist to form a simple cudgel and, leaning back, brought it down heavily against the base of the stone phallus invading her body.

With a surge of hope, iron beat rock; a small piece of stone chipping off with a crack. Melissa brought her fist down again and again, her strength fuelled by no more than her own will. With heart hammering in her chest at the thought of being heard, she shook from exertion as she urged her fist to come down faster. One final down swing saw the marble member shattering at the base, and Melissa was dropped to the floor, landing on her rear and unable to hold back a cry of pain.

Grabbing between her legs, the dildo pulled free with a squelch and she cast it aside after only the briefest glance, mildly shocked to think an object of such size had been inside her. The sweet euphoria of her relaxing muscles swept across her mind as her stretched labia hung loosely, a soft glisten of moisture dribbling from her twitching depths.

The chains on her feet clinked as she moved, the opposite ends latched to the feet of the incubus statue; there would be no hope of removing them in the same way she had her hands. The idea of tipping the statue over and shattering it was considered and rejected; such a feat was beyond her current strength, and the noise would be heard throughout the castle.

Placing her head in her hands, she permitted a solid five seconds for self pity, before grasping the magic dampening circlet on her head and giving it an experimental tug. While the metal had no physical connection to her body, the circlet was bound to her own magic and trying to force it off was like trying to tear away a piece of her own mind. Tracing her fingers across the four runes carved into the sides of the headpiece, she tried to puzzle out the specific locking magic holding it in place, struggling to concentrate over the unending desire emanating from her loins.

Melissa's questing fingers ran across the runes, the carved script warm beneath her touch. Vague memories of past lessons from college concluded that, even though the circlet was most likely a simple construct intended as a temporary measure to control unruly mages or criminals, it would still be incredibly difficult to remove without use of her magic, as it had been designed. While such magical inhibition devices could be created to open only from the command of a single person, they were difficult and expensive to build. The more common type simply had a corresponding key that could be tapped against it to unlock, far more user friendly in law enforcement.

A small grin darted across Melissa's lips. Demonic beings lack of creativity was one of their greatest weaknesses, having a preference towards using their innate strengths and abilities to conquer, over the usage of magical artefacts or tools more complex than blades or hammers. With luck, this device had being stolen or traded from human mages rather than constructed by any otherworldly being, and would have a safeguard built into it to prevent its use on humans whilst in a demon's dimension. As long as she had time to feel out the trick to opening it before any of the rat people came to check up on her, she may as well consider herself free.

Minutes passed as she felt around the bronze metal, the itching burn in her loins distracting her considerably. Unable to fight completely, one hand found its way to a breast, kneading the soft mound as her hips rocked gently, rolling her aching clit against the marble plinth beneath her, lubrication flowing from her body and leaving the stone damp.

Leaving her nipples, her hand snaked it's way down to her groin and slid between her lips, circling her void soothingly before pushing two fingers in. She smothered a gasp of pleasure, eyes darting to the doorway in worry. She truly didn't have time for this, yet the magically charged need left a burning hole in her loins that needed filling.

She leaned back against the statue, one hand mindlessly jabbing at the circlet as the other rubbed her nub rapidly, fantasies of Kincade's massive hippogryph shaft gliding its way into her unresisting body accelerated her building climax; his powerful talons holding her gently in place as he took deep, slow thrusts, those heavy balls slapping against her hungry mound. Thoughts of his hooked beak sliding through her long, white hair set her legs shaking and fluids pouring from her canal, her damp warmth clamping down on her questing digits as she curled them inwards, seeking out her most sensitive spots.

Sweat glistened on her skin, her spine arching in delight at the imagined presence on her back feeding a thick roll of meat into her starving womanhood, drenching her inner walls with more cum than any human could hold. Her palm rolled firmly across her clit, the long sought after orgasm boiling rapidly through her belly, like a wave building in height before crashing against the shore. Her body quivered and shook as the pleasure exploded beneath her, breath held to stifle her groan of momentary satisfaction while juices sluiced through her fingers.

Coming slowly down from her high, demonic magics preventing her from reaching a fully satisfied state, she idly wondered if dehydration would be the cause of her demise, only for one of the runes on the circlet to spark with power beneath her fingers. A code, she realised, irritated with how long it had taken to figure this out with her mind so lust addled. Reluctantly bringing her thoughts back to the problem, she wiped her soaked hand on the floor and started tapping each rune randomly. Soon coming across the correct sequence, she let out a triumphant cry and slipped the cursed ornament free, shaking her head to allow her magic bleached hair to cascade down the sides of her face as if in a celebration of it's own.

Feeling her magic flow through her once more, she grabbed at the iron cuffs around her feet and pulled on them, the simple mechanical padlock holding firm. Twisting the lock in her hands, she mentally berated herself for never practising her alteration spells. Gripping the lock tightly, she closed her eyes and made a quick sign in the air, arcane light glowing around her fingers as she struggled to remember the basic lockpick incantation all mages had to learn to pass their exam in Security Magic.

Glowing green sigils were traced in the air by hesitating fingers, before they fizzled to nothing. Melissa cursed softly as she glanced at the doors, expecting someone to barge in at any moment. She tried again, energy flowing through her as she tried to recall the complex patterns of the spell. Soft murmuring escaped her lips as she whispered what she hoped was the correct invocation to accompany the magical patterns.

Deep relief washed over her as the padlock gave a loud click, before popping open. Wrenching her foot free, she quickly removed the second one and staggered upright, her aching legs like jelly as she stumbled towards the door. Coiling the chain attached to her right wrist around her forearm, she tried to ignore the fluids running down her inner thigh, instead cracking the door open and peering out. The corridor beyond was deserted as she slipped quietly through.

---

Consciousness slowly came back to Kincade, his sleep deprived mind momentarily unable to grasp how he was standing with his four legs splayed out on a lush red carpet, his sturdy thighs thrusting rhythmically with the power of his stallion heritage. His balls slapped back and forth as a thick red arm invaded his tightly stretched rectum, a balled fist grinding against his prostate with unnatural strength. Cold nothingness gripped his throbbing dick, a pearl of cum beading at the tip as it jerked beneath his belly, pulsing with each beat of his heart.

Never before had Kincade felt such swollen need from his member, the engorged organ sending desperate messages up his spine, demanding it be pushed inside something hot and damp, to feel a living body wrapping around and receiving his essence. Every bob of his hips sent a shiver of electricity from his aching fruit swinging rapidly between his thighs, all the way down to the unflared head of his equine staff.

He tried to lift his foreclaws, grip his shaft, even just stop his own body from moving, but was unable to. The golden collar locked around his neck was controlling his every action, leaving him no more than a toy for the giantess behind him to use as she wished.

“Do you like that?" Purred the lustful voice of the succubus, Queen Jozlene, one of her four arms buried to the elbow inside the young hippogryph's bowels, pressing heavily upon his bloated prostate. Her bright red tail whipped around to squeeze the massive testicles in their stretched sack, rivulets of backed up cum dribbling from the tip of his spire. Angling her hips down, Jozlene rubbed her soaked muff against Kincade's outstretched hock, her obscenely long tongue snaking out from her full lips to tickle the base of his shaft. “Tell me you love that."

Kincade screamed denials in his mind, yet his body spoke in a voice flat and vacant, compelled as it was by the control collar around his neck. “I love that, Mistress. Please give me more."

“Oh, such a polite boy." Jozlene teased, rubbing a free hand through her well-satisfied lower lips, tweaking her sensitive button before easily burying her hand inside her body. Rotating it slowly to thoroughly coat it in a thick layer of lubrication, she growled in pleasure and bit down on Kincade's tail, pulling a few strands of hair free. “Are there any more like you at home?" she asked, her voice slightly muffled.

“I have a sister back home." The mechanical reply burst from Kincade's beak without hesitation, his horror at being forced to reveal such information going unnoticed by the demon Queen. He could never live with himself if this creature somehow tracked Kargen down because of him.

“How delightful," Jozlene crooned, her eyes twinkling maliciously while she pulled her arms free from Kincade and herself, then clenched both hands together. Pressing them back towards his worn-in tailhole, she rolled them forwards with relentless pressure.

This was too much for the brown hippogryph's abused donut. One arm had seen him crammed to his limit, two made him want to weep in pain, his wings quivering and tail flagged as Jozlene forced her way inside, Kincade's stallion sized hind quarters saving him from any permanent damage despite Jozlene's own enormous scale. The succubus rolled her arms experimentally, delighting in the male's overstuffed anal ring's squelch of protest around her forearms. “Perhaps I will visit this sister someday. The fun we three could have together."

Kincade knew his body was under the control of the collar he wore, it's magics overriding any messages his brain sent down his spine. Yet as his body was forced wide to swallow the double fists fed into him and the horror that filled his heart at her suggestion, he was certain no creature throughout history had tried so hard to regain control as he did at that moment.

“Now thrust." Jozlene commanded, grinning as Kincade's body instantly set off, his haunches rolling and slamming his bloated prostate into her fists once more.

He couldn't guess as to how long his body had been assaulted while his mind had slept, but the pressure coming from his groin was unbearable. His hips felt as though they would separate each time he was filled with both forearms, his heavy sack slapped against the bottom of his own dribbling shaft with each buck, but his dire need of a warm body gripping and sliding down his turgid pole went unfulfilled.

For the love of all things divine, someone rub my dick! He screamed soundlessly in his mind, the blank expression on his face expressing none of his inner turmoil. Yet for all he was being put through, he would take it a million times over if he could find a way to keep his sibling out of the clutches of this monster.

A broad grin split Jozlene's face, her orgasm bubbling up from, and exploding over, the furry leg caressing her sensitive clit and puffy lips as she ground against it. Her joyful scream hurt Kincade's ears as it echoed throughout the bedroom, the succubus pressing her crotch so hard against his hindleg it bent at the knee, throwing off his balance and knocking him to the ground, both fists pulling free from his tail hole with a damp squelch.

The red woman dove a hand between her legs and rubbed furiously, rolling her head back and riding her orgasm to completion, panting dramatically as she dropped to her knees and slapped Kincade painfully on the rump, his gaping hole slowly closing. “It has been far too long since I had one of your kind to play with. While I'd so love to continue this now, I have some duties I simply must attend to."

Climbing to her hooves and grabbing a bedsheet to wipe herself down with, she strode over to the door and called to one of her chamber maids. “Sophia! My room needs cleaning!"

A slim white ratkin shuffled obediently into the room, her body draped in a transparent blue gown. Barely reaching her Queen's dripping crotch in height, she bowed politely to the red woman, her eyes flicked curiously over to Kincade before she worked her way across to the bed and pulled the sheets free, carrying them back out as silently as she had entered.

Jozlene stood in front of her mirror and checked herself over. Her pure black hair hung down the back of her head in a tangled mess, the deep red skin stretched tightly across her muscular frame glistening with sweat when she stretched her four arms wide, admiring the way her breasts rolled above her tight stomach, her black nipples standing out prominently. Her enlarged canine teeth flashed between her lips as she grinned and sniffed the air, the pungent odour of recent sex mingled with the spicy scent of her hippogryph paramour coated her body, gratifying her senses better than any perfume ever could.

“I'm having some political rivals over in a few days. Perhaps you and your little human friend can have a mating display?" Strolling over to Kincade still lying on the floor, she teased his engorged shaft with a black hoof. “Should I prepare her for you first, or would it be more entertaining to see her take your girth without prior stretching? Well, I'll be back in a few hours anyway, and then we can have some more fun. You may look after your base biological functions, but no cumming."

Turning, she exited the room as Kincade's body climbed to it's feet and walked into the bathroom, standing over the toilet for several minutes before his erection receded enough to empty his bladder.

Sophia slipped back into the room with an armful of fresh sheets, noticing the hippogryph was no longer lying on the floor, and the sound of pouring water coming from the next room. She dropped the sheets onto the bed and walked around the room picking up sticky sex toys and side stepping the damp spots on the carpeted floor.

Dumping the toys into a pile by the door to be washed later, she took a deep breath and felt the heat of her own arousal flicker between her thighs. Living in such close proximity to a sex demon left most of the castle staff in a heightened state of arousal at the best of times, to be in a room so soon after the act had been performed by the Queen herself left lingering magics that Sophia couldn't help but enjoy.

She ran her hands down her slim waist, considering who of the castle guards would be the best to work off her new found tension with when her shift was over, when a clopping, clacking noise came from the bathroom. Looking over as Kincade walked stiffly back in, his claw steps muffled once more as he made his way across the carpet, his dull eyes fixing on a plate of fruit and cheese sitting on the bedside.

Sophia watched in amusement as the large creature grabbed an apple in his beak and threw his head back, his feathers puffing out as he swallowed it whole before going back for more. She moved closer to him, confident that the golden collar around his neck ensured he was no threat to her. “Hello there, big guy." She said, reaching out to stroke her hand across his brown wing feathers, admiring the soft tickle as the massive primaries ran through her fingers. “You're far better looking than the last hippogryph the Queen owned."

She giggled at the avian eating habits of the male, his quick swallows gulping down the entirety of the available food, before he just stood there vacantly staring at the empty plate. A flash of light pink flesh was flopping around between his hindlegs, nearly at eye level with the small ratkin and she glanced beneath him to size it up. Shimmering with moisture, the sheath hung loosely as his soft member drooped out of it, his black sack swinging behind in time with each breath.

“Oh, poor guy. All pent up and no place to blow." She cooed, slipping her delicate hand across his belly and lightly squeezing the shaft head, feeling the intense heat radiating from it as it pulsed with need from her touch. Letting go just as it started to stiffen in her fingers, she gripped the two dangling orbs and pulled them gently down, each one the size of her balled fist.

She leaned in to run her lips on the hanging fruits, delighting in the sensation while remaining careful to avoid nipping them with her teeth. She didn't dare risk stroking the gargantuan length floating by her head, lest she push him too close to release. Her Queen had clearly been cultivating a massive build up of sexual energy inside the creature, and would use it to power her own magics when she finally allowed him to discharge inside her.

Sophia grinned sadistically as she remembered the fate of a chambermaid before her who had inadvertently stolen a months worth of energy from one of the Queen's toys. The former maid would never be able to sit comfortably again.

Unhanding the male's plums, she reached up and tickled the mass of feathers beneath the hawk like jaw. “Look at me, and stick out your tongue." She said, two great golden eyes swinging around to stare at her as nearly five inches of pointed tongue protruded from the hooked beak. She smiled broadly and leaned up to plant a kiss between the creatures eyes, then shifted lower to suck on his tongue. Keeping eye contact, she rolled her head back and forth, deep throating the moist piece of meat while her hands rubbed her small breasts through her gown.

Pulling off the tongue, she quickly slipped her gown off and climbed atop the bed, laying on her back and using one hand to tease her nipples and the other at her moist sex. She arched her hips towards the hippogryph, spreading her lips to give him a good look into her quivering pink depths while she rolled her clit slowly beneath a finger.

Kincade watched blankly, his swollen girth motionless under his belly, his tongue still sticking out of his beak. The thought of the screaming need the male must be going through, his inability to satisfy his pent up urges stoked the flames between Sophia's legs, fluid running freely down her buttocks while she lifted a breast to her mouth to suck on her own nipple. She needed that pointed tongue inside her. “Don't leave a girl waiting, handsome." She growled seductively, “Stick that in me."

Kincade jerked to life, leaping to his hind legs and digging his razor sharp foreclaws into the mattress on either side of Sophia's head, her vision filled by the thick brown feathering on his chest as he rapidly tried to shuffle up over her. A startled cry escaped her and her eyes bulged when she glanced between their bodies, the rock hard spire of flesh drooling as it speed towards her tiny femininity.

“NO! STOP!" She cried out in terror, legs kicking out to ward off the oncoming crotch wrecker. Kincade's body shuddered to a halt, inches from slamming against her slit, so close she could see the spiderweb of veins pulsing desperately beneath his exposed skin. “Your tongue," she said, a bit calmer now that she realised she was still in control. “I meant put your tongue in me. There's absolutely no way that thing will ever fit."

With what she almost thought was reluctance, the heavy body slid back along her form to line his beak against her mound, before slopping a generous serve of saliva across her lower lips and gently nudging his tongue into her warmth.

Sophia lay back, the spike of fear insufficient to detract from the pleasure the sizeable intrusion gave as it stretched and massaged her insides rhythmically. Letting out a satisfied moan, she reached down and pressed her clit, feeling her pleasure growing rapidly. Beginning to breathe heavily, she tried to buck her hips into his face, the bed bouncing to much to let her get decent leverage. She lifted her hand from her crotch and pushed the feathered head away.

“Hang on, I need to change positions." Rolling onto her hands and knees, then hiking her tail into the air, she pushed her slit back into Kincade's face. “Okay. Go again."

Warmth filled her once more and she thrust her hips happily, feeling her belly tingle with the familiar spark of pleasure. Grinding her fingers across her clit, she closed her eyes and tilted her head back, moaning loudly as Kincade's tongue wormed inside her with all the experience the control collar had to endow.

Sophia let her jaw hang loose, minutes passing as she ground her needy slit against the hard beak servicing her and loving the control she had, every action he made purely to please her needs. The first tingles of orgasm began to roll across her, building in her stomach and spreading throughout her body. She took deep gulps of air, her chest heaving as she neared her peak, getting so close she could taste it, wondering whether to drag this out for longer, or just push that little harder to get the slightest more stimulation that would push her over the edge to the first of no doubt many orgasms.

A telekinetic mage blast struck her in the kidneys, blowing the air from her lungs and lifting her into the air, slamming her against the wall ten feet away, her head smashing against the hard stone leaving her dazed and confused.

“Try not to fall unconscious." Melissa said unsympathetically, sparing the briefest glance at the ratkin's whimpering body. “I've heard it's really bad for you."

She knelt next to Kincade, his tongue slowly retracting as he stared up at her. “Damn," she murmured. “And I was going to complain about my day." She slid her hands across the golden collar, the runes inscribed into it lighting up as she did so. “Shit. I've heard of these. Okay, uhh." She blew air through her lips, worry written across her face. “Okay, I know you can hear me. I'm sorry, but I have no idea how to get this off. And we need to get out of here. Right now."

“I can't believe I found you." She paused and glanced around the room, wondering if there were any decent clothes in the drawers, before she dismissed the notion of modesty. There was hardly going to be enough time for their escape as it was, without stopping to look for a new outfit. “Come on, follow me. No, wait..."

She rushed over to the glass door leading onto a balcony on the side of the palace, overlooking the city below. Peering over the edge, she pulled back from the five story drop onto a hard stone pathway. There was no way she could, make it down the side of the building by hand. Looking back at Kincade, she couldn't help glance hungrily at his still throbbing erection, her vagina clenching in desire. There would be no getting away from the succubus' magic without a professional cleric to exercise the influence from their souls, her own arousal rapidly building in the few minutes since her last orgasm.

“Can you hold my weight and just fly us both down to the ground?" She asked, hopefully. Avoiding guards as she had stealthily made her way through the corridors earlier had been tricky enough by herself. She didn't imagine a horse sized hippogryph clopping along behind her would make things easier.

“I do not know, Mistress." Kincade intoned in the lifeless voice of the controlled, shuffling towards her. “Do you want me to try?"

Melissa gripped Kincade's face in her hands and kissed him. “If we get out of here, I promise I will give you the best blow job of your life." The hippogryph crouched down to allow the mage to haul herself onto his back and settled between his wings, Melissa unable to stop her hips bucking against the soft feathers tickling her inflamed slit. Gripped him tightly around the neck and leaning into his ear, she said, “Go for it, Cade."

Muscles tensed in Kincade's haunches as he instantly kicked off, hooves clattering across the marble floor as his foreclaws stumbled clumsily up to a gallop. Racing through the balcony door, he spread his wings to their fullest and leapt over the railing into the morning air.

Onlookers later on would all agree that the silhouette dramatically outlined against the rising sun was only slightly ruined by the flapping erection between his legs.

---

Every inch of Kincade's body hurt. His hind legs ached from the heavy landing he had endured with Melissa on his back, his muscles burned from the run he had been compelled into as they had circled around the palace towards the river Melissa had seen from one of the balconey's she had passed on her way to Jozlene's bed chambers. His beak ached from having to chew through the heavy rope tying the small boat to the jetty. His wings ached when they had been used as a make shift sail to pull the boat into the river, where the currents were now taking them down stream.

Yet as Melissa lay between his legs, grinding her body against his turgid cock, he found the pain fading into the background. Laying on his back in the centre of the boat barely big enough for the two of them, with the mage propped on his hips, eyes locked on hers as she clutched his member tightly to her chest, rubbing her breasts down the sides and giving the occasional tongue bath to the dripping tip. His tank was full and his stones tender, just waiting for the slightest touch to release.

“I know you're probably pretty wound up, so I won't drag this out too much." Melissa said, tilting down to suckle on his tip. “Just blow the moment you need -"

The explosion of cum blasted into her chin and up her nose like a liquid uppercut, leaving her gasping and coughing as the thick white fluid covered her face and hair. Jiggling in her grip like an excited ferret, Kincade's length flared out in his pleasure, slipping from her grasp and dropping down to coat his belly in a generous serve as well.

Staring at him like the world's most surprised snowman, Melissa started giggling, before breaking out into full blown laughter. Wiping the sticky ejaculate from her eyes, she said, “Okay. I probably should have expected that."

Leaning over the side of the boat to scoop up some water and wipe her face clean, she cupped her hands and brought some over to Kincade, doing her best to clean the stains from his stomach fur and dwindling erection. Once finished, she moved up to sit by his head, scratching his ears softly.

Looking out over the water at the riverbank slowly drifting past and with the twin suns moving steadily across the sky, she wondered how soon until Jozlene sent a search party after them. They may have already been formed and were rapidly closing in. There may simply be no way to escape.

Shifting her naked buttocks on the rough wood beneath, she continued patting Kincade. With steely resolve in her voice, she said, “For what it's worth, I promise I will do everything I can to make sure we don't become prisoners again."

---

Three claws punched through the door of the elevator shaft, dragging sideways and pulling the door open with a squeal. Panting with exhaustion, Traget used brute force to slam her claws down into the concrete floor, anchoring her while she slipped her wings through the doorway and slowly hauled her body from the shaft. Collapsing onto the floor set a small dust cloud billowing around as she lay there, her legs aching from the effort. Even with the armour actuators pulling it's own weight, her out of shape frame had lacked the stamina to take the strain of the climb and more than once she had lost her grip, nearly falling the seven stories back down to the basement level.

Cursing the universe in general, she slowly staggered back to all fours and shambled stiffly across the dirt covered floor of the reception area. Stopping next to an entry checkpoint, she turned to face the security guard, still at his desk. Broken bones lay beneath the dishevelled remains of a green and brown uniform, a name tag reading “Goran" still pinned to his discarded hat. Teeth marks scratched into the bones and the scattered black feathers showed evidence that the body had been fed upon by starving scavengers at some point, yet Traget had never moved the remains. Despite how many times she had been passed them, it had always seemed wrong to go around and bury the bodies she found. This was the only memorial most would ever get.

“Hey Goran, me again. Obviously." Traget said quietly, her voice sounding out of place in the silence. She stretched her legs, trying to get the cramp out of them as she scratched grime from the ground. “Should run a broom around here one day. Place is a mess." She rolled her wings and glanced at the bag on her back. Softly, she said, “Everywhere is like this, though. That's what happens when you blow up a continent. All that dirt has to go somewhere."

Swirls of dust dancing in the air currents were caught in the blinding rays of sunlight that streamed in from the entrance doorway. The brilliance being reflected from the buildings outside only served to made the dimly lit lobby seem colder by comparison. Too far away for the light to reach, the empty eye sockets of the guard were deep and sunken, the cracked teeth hanging from the beak grinned forever in the gloom as Traget coughed to relieve the tightness in her throat, her heavy breathing sounding harsh as it echoed inside her helmet.

“I know, I know. I shouldn't talk to myself all the time." She said weakly, her beak dry as she glanced behind her, a shiver running down her spine. She was alone here, like she always was. “Just as long as no one talks back, though. Right? Like you've told me before." She sniggered nervously.

She moved her head as Ammon's tail swayed in her peripheral vision, then froze as she heard a scraping noise come from her back as the bag settled, her rasping breath quickening. “Do you have to think of ghosts now, you fucking coward?" She muttered, before holding her breath to calm her nerves, the rushing blood ringing through her ears rapidly became the only sound in existence. The world around her in silence, the silence of a grave.

She stared at the yellowed skull, a thousand needles racing across her skin as her vision narrowed and blurred. In the darkness behind her eyes, she saw the dead rising up and watching her, filling the void as they looked on with envy at her continued existence. She had lived when others more deserving hadn't. Her breathe caught in her throat, her lungs burning for air. An invisible noose closing around her neck, cold and tight. Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes as she jerked around, looking for the nothing she knew would be there. There was no one there.

Traget's legs jerked to life and sent her rushing for the door, bursting out onto the broken walkway that ran between the buildings. The air was still, the sun burning down from above reaching 50 degrees Celsius in the shade, the clicking whirr of her movements and the thud of her feet slowing as she came to a stop. Glancing back behind her, she took deep gulps of air as she giggled stupidly, cycling her jet engines up and down a few times while she regaining her composure.

“Well, that was a … a thing, wasn't it?" she said, her chuckle turning to a groan. “No, no. I can't stay here any more. I've gotta find … gotta find..." The words stuck in her throat and she rubbed at her helmet. “I gotta find some booze."

Stepping from the walkway, she moved away from the buildings to get room to take off. Constructed by a race accustomed to flying, the city was comprised of massive steel and glass skyscrapers, and contained little in the way of roads or public transportation. Instead, between each place of business had been sprawling parks and nature reserves, the city once filled with the colours and scents amassed by hundreds of flowering plants, lush green meadows stretching between buildings and the sounds of birds and insects filling the void.

Brown and grey were the only colours now, concrete surfaces pitted and cracked by the acid rains, metal frames exposed and rusting. Littering the landscape were slags of glass and plastic, their original purpose no longer identifiable. Dirt and grime covered every surface, dull and faded after so many years of high intensity sun exposure. Bleached white bones buried in the sand were all that remained of most of the cities former inhabitants.

Traget ignored all of this, having seen it so many times before. With enough space to allow people to take off and land without colliding with one another, she had no difficulty flexing her wings open as wide as she could, her heavy feet sinking into the dust covered ground. Spooling her jets up, she took a single leap and roared into the air, pulling up sharply and surging rapidly into the sky. The thrill of defeating gravity through controlled explosions had long worn off, leaving her feeling empty as she cleared the tops of the buildings. Rising ever higher, loneliness bit deeper than it had in a long time.

Killing power to her jets and with momentum carrying her further up, she spread her wings wide to catch the slightest breeze. For a few glorious seconds she was truly flying, in her mind's eye, she soared amongst the clouds with friends, the wind through her feathers over a bustling city with grace and agility, rather than the brute strength of her jets pushing her over a necropolis, filled with stolen lives.

Gravity took hold as her speed dropped and she started to fall, the air spilling from her wings as she accelerated towards the ground. She closed her wings and watched the world rush to meet her, letting herself slip through the air without resistance. A collision warning began beeping in her helmet as her vision filled with the ash of the world, her good eye struggling to gauge the distance from the ground. An unusual vibration travelled up her hind leg, and she glanced behind to see one of the straps of the duffel bag had come loose and was rattling against her side. An eternity seemed to pass as she watched the black bag undulate in the air, all sound drowned out by the rushing wind.

Refocusing her mind on the moment, she spread her wings wide and maxed out her jets. Flicking her tail to pull out of the dive, the metal joints in her armour absorbed enough strain to have sheared the wings from any normal creature.

Pulling her legs tightly against her body, Traget hurtled between the remains of the buildings inches above the ground, the immense heat left in the wake of her afterburners turning the top layer of sand into glass. Twitching her tail, she started to gain altitude, climbing above the city heights and banking towards the remains of the nearest hospital.

A new alarm sounded in her helmet, a message flickering madly across her HUD. Fire detected? She wondered, glancing at the buildings around her. There was very little left to burn that hadn't already. A sense of dread came to her as she killed her jets and looked behind her. The duffel bag on her back was enveloped in flames.

---

The hospital doors exploded from their hinges and scattered across the room from the force of Traget's charge. Ripping the duffel bag from her back and throwing it to the ground, she desperately tried to beat the fire out with her wings, only to fan the flames even brighter. Turning and running down the nearest corridor in search of a fire extinguisher, precious seconds rapidly ticked by. Rubber toes squeaking on the tiled floor, she finally spotted a red canister hanging from the wall and wrenched it free, pulling the whole cradle with it.

Racing back to Ammon and aiming the extinguisher at the smoking body, she pulled the safety clip free and pulled the trigger, being rewarded with nothing more than a small puff of air escaping the nozzle. The small charge gauge on the canister reading empty, Traget hurled it through the nearest wall and spun around in panic. Spotting a sign above a doorway pointing to the bathroom, she grabbed the duffel bag and dragged it down the corridor.

“It alright! It's alright!" she yelled as she bludgeoned her way past the closed door and into the bathroom. “These toilets will be full of water! They haven't been used in years!"

The flames were rapidly dying as the fuel burnt up, the bag turning to dust and Ammon's charred body flopping onto the floor. The toilets were little more than holes in the ground for easy use by quadrupeds in stalls with a sliding door for privacy, but at the back of each one was a tank used for flushing. Traget grabbed the nearest one and ripped it from the wall, the stagnate liquid sloshed out of the metal cistern and spilling across the tiles as she hobbled back and dumped the contents onto Ammon's smouldering form. The burning embers vanished instantly and Traget sighed with momentary relief, before she saw the smoke return and chemical burns eating through the ratkin's skin, the flesh peeling and warping gruesomely.

Traget stared in mute horror, comprehension only slowly dawning. For years, acid rain had been a constant part of her world, slowly corroding everything it touched. How it had come to be, she didn't know, but she knew in days past, corporations had used rainwater tanks to help reduce water usage where possible. Somewhere on the roof of the hospital, there must have been a water tank filling with corrosive rain, slowly feeding into the toilet cisterns below. And she had just drenched Ammon in it.

The metal cistern squealed in protest as Traget balled her fist around it, her hand shaking in fury. “It'ssss… Ffffiiiine." she hissed out, her eyes squinting closed as she forced herself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It not a problem. It's okay. It doesn't matter. Just… Just move on." Pulling her fingers from the cistern, she let it clatter harmlessly to the ground. “See?" she said, stared down at the smoking remains of Ammon. “I can be calm – CUNTING BASTARDLY FUCKING FUCK FUCK!- nnnnghArrgh!"

Traget mantled her wings and dropped her head, banging the beak of her helmet against the floor, weeping softly. The duffel bag had been completely destroyed, melted plastic dribbling across the ratkin's twisted and burned body, lying in a crumpled heap on the floor like so much discarded rubbish. What remained of her fur and skin was blackened and warped, exposing the muscle and charred organs beneath, the tail and legs missing completely after having been incinerated by the heat from Traget's afterburners. Her face was nothing but a blackened pit of weeping bile and ash, popping sounds coming from her skull as streams of vapour from the superheated brain matter escaped through the holes in the bone. There was so little of her left a bag wasn't required to collect her remains, simply a dust pan and brush.

Traget staggered from the bathroom and leaned against the wall as she dry heaved, her empty stomach rolling painfully in response. She hadn't thought about the bag when she had been flying, hadn't thought about the water in the toilet. It's all my fault, she thought. From the moment I met Kincade everything's gone to shit because of me. I've ruined their lives.

Drowning in thoughts of self-recrimination, Traget struggled back to the surface and pushed through. She had wasted hours so far, just for some vague hope of finding working scanners in a destroyed hospital at the end of the world. She had ruined any chance of learning about her opponent's magic, and made the whole endeavour over here pointless. But with each passing minute any number of things could be happening to Melissa and Kincade. Okay, shit's fucked, she thought. But if I hate myself now, I'm going to really hate myself if I don't try to do anything to fix it.

Melissa and Kincade. They were probably having lots of sex with the Red Bitch, they liked sex so much they were probably loving it there. They probably didn't even want her help. She didn't have to help them. She didn't know them. They weren't her problem. They tried to mind control her, they deserved everything that came to them. She could almost believe it.

They're being raped by the Red Bitch, her thoughts supplied. They didn't want to be there, it was her fault they were. Traget's resolve hardened once more, anger replacing her despair. Her species had been designed for war, they had spent millennia perfecting and honing it. The Red Bitch may have won the first round, but she had no idea what was coming her way.

Despite the vast quantities of munitions that had been spent during the last war, entire stock piles still existed in storage, ready for use. Coil guns with high explosive plasma rounds, anti-tank warheads, enough fusion explosives to end a civilisation ten times over. She had access to every resource her species had ever come up with. She could use it all.

Staging a full assault against the red bitch would be difficult and would require careful planning. Her armour wasn't designed for combat, it was basically just a heavy duty environmental suit. Hard wearing, easy to maintain and repair, but the only armaments available to it were the single laser rifles in each wing which had proven ineffective against magic, and a couple of hand grenades she had hidden in one of the compartments. Getting a full battle ready suit together would be difficult, few of them still existed in one piece, but given time she could probably get something ready.

Letting out a vengeful huff, she stared down the corridors into the gloom, trying to think of her next move. The grey carpeted floor led to the examination rooms, a closed metal door with grimy glass panels set in it blocking the view inside. Walking up to the door and pushing it open, the stiff hinges let out a squeal of protest as they were moved for the first time in decades, sounding out of place in the otherwise silent building. Dark shapes loomed amongst the shadows, her eyes unable to make out any details in the low light. Having been in hospitals in the past, she knew what she would see even before she activated her floodlights, but she couldn't suppress the icy chill that ran down her spine at the sight before her. Amidst the hard, angular shapes of medical equipment, row upon row of worn and sagging mattresses lay on the floor, the desiccated corpses of valravnes occupying most.

Her temper deflating as she slowly moved forwards, Traget carefully navigated her way into the room, making sure to avoid disturbing any of the bodies. Shadows ducked and weaved against the walls as her lights roamed across the scene, illuminating the room for the first time in decades. The young and old, soldiers, civilians, doctors. All were represented here. “Hello," Traget whispered, shifting her gaze around the room. “My name's Traget."

This was what vengeance had led to. A bunch of idiots fighting a bunch of fools for a bunch of stupid reasons, and it was always the innocents who suffered. She had access to all of her civilisations resources, and her first thought was to cover herself in weapons and bring this level of destruction to another world.

The anonymous remains of a valravne lay by Traget's feet, the green outfit it wore signifying it to have once been a nurse. Amidst all that had happened in the final days of this creatures life, it had still been here, trying to save others. Guilt washed over Traget, her mind's eye seeing Ammon's pain filled last moments, reminding her how completely useless she had been. If she had known first aid, had brought bandages or pain killers, if she had done anything at all beyond being a waste of space, Ammon may still be alive.

“I'm sorry, I made mistakes." Traget said miserably. “I don't know if Ammon was a good person. Or if Melissa or Kincade were. Or any of the other rat people who died. I didn't know any of them." She rolled her head back and forth, uncertain once more. The instance she decided on a course of action, she seemed to start thinking of something else to do. It was never this complicated for the movie heroes. They always knew the right thing to do, who the bad guys were, how to behave. “I don't even know if the Red Bitch is a bad person. If I hadn't attacked her first, maybe things would be different. I never asked, never got to know any of them."

Turning, she saw an open medical bag sitting by the side of one of the makeshift beds. While some of the contents had been used, it still contained a fair assortment of bandages and basic medical supplies. Pulling it over, Traget ignored the dust and feather fragments that billowed up as she pulled the equipment from the bag and stuffed them into the various compartments on her armour. A flicker of hope bubbled up inside her as she found a thick book of first aid procedures in one of the pockets of the bags. Even trained nurses needed a helping hand at times.

She had lost Ammon due to her ignorance, had lost Kincade and Melissa due to her quick temper. All she could do now was try to fix what she could and make certain she didn't make the same mistakes again.

Traget would talk to the Red Bitch like an adult. She paused and mentally rewound. She would talk to Jozlene like an adult. Get to know and understand her. Then, once they had established a successful line of communication, she would calmly and politely ask for Kincade and Melissa back. And if she refuses, then I hide a fusion bomb in her toilet, Traget thought.

Carefully treading back out of the room, she turned and gave a final look at the bodies left behind. “I don't know your faces, or your names. But I will always remember that you did exist. You deserve that much."

---

The sun was inching its way closer to the horizon, shadows slowly stretching out to fill the emptiness left by the receding light. A warm breeze sent dust swirling around Traget's metal paws as she padded down the main shopping precinct, stepping over or around the broken sections of concrete walkway. A frayed rope gripped under her wing led to a small, rusty box trailer, the squealing from it's flat rubber tyres sounding off rhythmically as it bounced along behind her.

This part of the city had only suffered light damage from aerial bombing, yet the heat and concussive forces that were unleashed had still been capable of toppling buildings and reducing anything flammable to dust. The remains of the shopping complex sagged miserably, the scorched brick work and crumbling concrete reminders of better years. Few complete bodies could be seen amongst the wreckage, any left out in the open having been taken and consumed by scavengers over the years.

The more Traget had considered her next move, the more she had realised how pointless an aggressive confrontation with Jozlene could be. A single diamond from her laser array had left the ratkin back in that town speechless, and it hadn't even been a jewellery quality item. If such a rock had impressed him so much, then surely someone arrogant enough to give herself the title of Queen couldn't resist the chance to gain the possible riches from an entire world.

Traget quite literally had all of the money. All the metals and minerals, all the rare and valuable gems her species had ever dug up were just sitting in the ruined remains of warehouses and refineries, waiting to be plundered. Jewellery stores, museums and art galleries may have been buried in rubble, but that posed little barrier to a power-armour wearing scavenger. Even taking in to account how much had been destroyed, there were still entire buildings left full of treasures, untouched for decades and all of it absolutely unique and unobtainable from any other source. She didn't have to wage war on anyone, she could just keep throwing money at them until they gave her whatever she wanted.

Pausing at a cross road, Traget pulled a folded tourist map from a pocket and flicked it out, scanning the street names in search of her goal. Clicking her tongue against her beak as she found the intersection, she slowly ambled down the street, examining each of the remaining buildings as she went. Some of the shattered windows and ruined store fronts on either side of the pathway still had sun bleached signs and displays set up, advertising their goods for non-existent buyers. Fading sunlight glinted from the dusty jewellery store Traget approached, dropping the rope to her trailer and heading over. Trying to pull the sliding door to the side, the wooden frame cracked and crumbled in her grip, breaking apart as it collapsed on the ground by her paws.

The display cabinets lay in ruins, a large section of the ceiling having given way and crushed the shelves below. Amidst glass shards and fragments of concrete blocks lay twisted trays of gold and silver rings spread across the floor, intermingling with platinum necklaces and decorative amulets. Moving cautiously into the store, Traget found her eye drawn to a single, gold-plated gauntlet sitting on the faded beige carpet. Intricately shaped golden scales stood out along the overlapping metal plates, while rubies and sapphires were embedded along the foreleg guard.

Reminded of the blood stains marring her own gloves, Traget picked the golden glove up, it's mechanical fingers flopping about loosely as she turned it over. Unable to see the other glove anywhere, she suppressed a sigh of envy, the slim design having a far more appealing aesthetic than her own outdated model.

“Oh well. A bit too gaudy for me, anyway." she consoled herself, before noticing the skeletal hind quarters of a valravyne sticking out from underneath a large slab of broken concrete. Carefully placing the glove onto a nearby table, she said, “Hello. I'm not here to steal anything. Well, yeah, I sort of am. I'm going to take everything, actually."

A large section of ceiling above the body was caved in, steel beams bent and twisted from the force of some long forgotten impact. A closed door lay beyond the mess, leading into a backroom where the tools of a jeweller were kept.

Sifting through the rubble behind the cash register, Traget found a stash of black carry bags. Made from an extremely strong fabric known as Vectran, the bags would easily protect the various jewellery pieces as she scooped up all that she could find. Holding a tail bracelet up to inspect, she said, conversationally, “These are nice pieces. Do you make them yourself?"

She stuffed the full bag into a pocket and started on another. “I'm not sure what a biped would wear. I guess it's easier to bring everything and just see if she wants any of it. Did you work here, or just a customer?" She turned and made her way over to the crushed valravyne, stopping to inspect a glint of metal between the broken hips. A set of connected silver rings were wrapped loosely around the baculum bone, a smaller ring locked behind where the knot would have been. Thinly feathered blue fur lay beneath it, where the chastity cage had once been hidden inside a sheath. An inscription written on the side said, 'Always – For Your Eyes Only'.

“Ah ha. Cool." Traget said, lifting her head back up and wagging her tail cheerfully. “Good you had someone. I've heard bondage can be a sign of a strong relationship." She juggled a diamond encrusted ring between her fingers idly, looking around for any jewels she may have missed. “I've always found an odd amusement in denial and chastity, myself. But that could just be me being bitter. You can only masturbate so many times before it starts to get dull."

Stepping around the body, she made her way over to the back room. “Do you think any of this stuff's radioactive? I suppose I'll have to decontaminate it all when I get home."

The back of the store had weathered the years better than the front. The sliding door moved easily out of the way and Traget wandered into the back room, where large plastic crates sat around the walls of the room. Sitting on the main table amidst the various metal working tools was a carbon pre-ceramic 3d printer. Having replaced natural diamond mining for decades, the meter square machine was a common staple in most jewellery stores. Intact and complete with the necessary moulds to produce almost any size diamond of any grade or colour, the machine had lain dormant for far longer than it's designers had ever anticipated, and would probably require a fair amount of maintenance to get working.

Traget grabbed one of the crates and tugged at the locked lid, the plastic cracking and bending under her enhanced strength before shattering with a loud snap. Containing enough diamonds to destroy an entire civilisation's economy, the abused sides of the box slowly gave way, a wave of rocks pouring forth and clattering around Traget's legs.

Supposing she should be grateful the box had lasted as long as it had, she waved her forleg through the mountain of white crystal, the hard gemstones resisting the motion. Watching with fascination as light refracted inside the multifaceted prisms, she picked out one an inch in diameter to see a thousand rainbows dancing across her vision. Perfectly clear and shaped to slot neatly into a large ring or pendant, the rock was surely worth a fortune to anyone not capable of producing their own.

The surplus that had been made and stored on site would surely prove to sate the greed of almost any creature, assuming they valued the gems. Traget's mechanical fingers clicked as she toyed with the shiny bauble, wondering if they were actually worth anything to anyone in other worlds, or if they had just been of value to the lower classes. The rat shopkeeper had certainly seemed happy with the one she had given him. Mentally shrugging, she tossed the rock back in with the others and grabbed another crate to take back home.

A rare tingle of pride came over her, confident that this idea was sound. Once she had loaded up on jewellery, she would move on to art galleries, shops and anywhere else that might contain valuable items. There was no way Jozlene would consider Melissa and Kincade to be worth what she could offer.

And not a single person would be hurt.

To be continued.