She curled around them, her body a warm fortress, and for the first time in a century, she slept without dreaming of iron.
For three heartbeats, Kyri let the factory claim her. Let the tentacles thrust, let the oil flood her, let her own shaft harden to full, aching length. She moaned—loud, real, shattering. And in that moment of orgasmic surrender, she shifted again.
It did. With a wet sigh, its maintenance hatch opened, revealing a pulsing core of red light. Kyri mounted it without hesitation—not in cruelty, but in dominance. She drove herself into the core’s interface socket, and the foreman convulsed, its consciousness flooding into her. For a moment, she felt the factory’s vast, lonely hunger: a mind that had forgotten it was once a man. Alons Factory - Futanari Dragon Quest.epubl
“The end of your lineage,” she said. “And the beginning of mine.” The Alons Factory collapsed into a crater of rust and silence. Kyri flew home on wings that dripped molten starlight, the Emberstone beating in time with her twin hearts.
“Thank you for your compliance,” she murmured, and walked deeper. The Chamber of Unmaking was not a room. It was a cathedral of coils, where molten metal dripped like sweat from overhead ducts, and the floor was a living lattice of nerve-cables. At its center, suspended in a cage of ribs, burned the Emberstone. She curled around them, her body a warm
The Alons Factory was not built. It had grown. A century ago, the alchemist-warlord Alon Vert had fused his own nervous system to a living engine, transforming his body into a factory that consumed villages and birthed automaton soldiers from iron wombs. The factory felt . Its corridors pulsed with peristaltic rhythms. Its forges moaned like laboring mothers.
“You are not weapons,” Kyri told them. “You are heirs.” She moaned—loud, real, shattering
Twenty small dragons emerged, each one glistening, each one bearing the same twin gift she did. They looked up at her with curious, hungry eyes.