Kyri stepped forward, letting her pheromones bloom. The foreman’s ocular stalks trembled. She reached up, cupped its main lens, and spoke in the old dragon-tongue: Yield.
Not into dragon. Not into half-form.
Her body became a mouth. A consuming void. The tentacles that penetrated her were devoured from the inside out. The oil turned to ash in her veins. The factory screamed as Kyri absorbed its metal-flesh, its nerve-coils, its stolen souls. She grew larger, darker, her phallus now a serpent of obsidian that pierced the Chamber’s ceiling and drank the factory’s core-drain directly. Alons Factory - Futanari Dragon Quest.epubl
Alon Vert’s final thought, broadcast across every dying speaker: What are you? Kyri stepped forward, letting her pheromones bloom