But as she reached for the cage, the factory spoke through a thousand throats.
She was not what most stories called a dragon.
Then she pulled out, leaving the foreman a drooling husk. Alons Factory - Futanari Dragon Quest.epubl
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.
Tentacles of braided steel and flesh erupted from the walls. They did not strike to kill. They struck to penetrate —seeking every orifice, every scale-gap. Kyri roared and shifted full dragon, filling the chamber with jagged wings and a maw of star-fire. She bit through three tentacles, then four. But the factory adapted, wrapping her hind legs, forcing her down. But as she reached for the cage, the
She took a breath. The air tasted of rust and ambergris.
The tunnel contracted around her. Hot, oily, alive. Ridges of soft iron pressed against her scales, and somewhere in the dark, a low hum vibrated through her bones. The factory was tasting her. The Alons Factory was not built
Kyri’s mother’s voice whispered from it: Daughter. You came.
“No more waiting,” she whispered. Entry was simple. The factory’s outer husk was riddled with exhaust vents, each one a sphincter of heated metal. Kyri shifted—not fully into dragon, but into a half-form : wings folded tight, limbs elongated, her phallus unsheathed and slick with a natural pheromone that mimicked the factory’s own lubricating fluids.
She did the one thing Alon Vert never expected: she gave in .
She slid into the vent.