Chapter 39

Previously on Centaurus: Fey groggily awoke atop a dragoness she had made ruin. Finding her way down from the now quite large Lady she encountered the head maid of the palace who was not impressed with the mess she was making. The head maid, deciding to do something about it, snapped an enchanted golden collar intended to restrain powerful prisoners on the base of Fey’s length. The collar prevented Fey from properly relieving herself, only able to release a small sample of her full output at a time. She was only saved from her own body by the many very very eager to help maids.

Now, Chapter 39:

A large blue foot wrapped in a military-style sandal crashed into the door with a thunderous boom.

The door was immediately blown off its hinges, ripping free from the frame and flying through the space on the other side where it hit the opposite wall, the wood splintering as it then fell to the floor, a scatter of dust pluming around the wreck.

“Hey hey hey, do you really think it’s a good idea to be messing up her palace more than it already is?”

The owner of the blue foot, a tall Oni woman, turned and glared at her comrade.

“This palace is already beyond salvaging Ryoka, Lady Alexandria’s might and size cannot be contained.”

The Oni gestured behind her comrade and she turned to see.

The entire far wall of the room they were in was shattered, replaced with a small part of a much larger purple wing.

“I suspect the palace will collapse entirely when she returns to her practical form, her body has replaced much of the supporting walls.”

“Yeah, but it might not, and then do you really want to explain to our boss why all the doors in her palace have a large Oni shaped footprint on them? Hmm? Hmm?”

The Oni scowled at her teenaged comrade who flipped her green hair, her yellow eyes meeting that of the Oni’s well above hers in cocky defiance.

“We have more to worry about than doors, what if Lady Alexandria is in genuine need?”

The teenager seemed unconcerned by this suggestion and pushed past her.

“Hah! You really think that our boss, a quite literal Dragon, is going to have trouble with anything other than another Dragon Tarra? Or, I don’t know, an army dropping on her head?”

“Yes? Is it really so hard to believe this could be an attempt on her life? That riot we were sent to end may merely have been a distraction while the culprits were here at the palace attacking her.”

The green haired girl was striding ahead of the Oni who had to move to catch up, but not catching up too close as a large green chameleon tail emerged from the back of the Chameleokin’s black unitard, a tail as long as her body that ended in a tight spiral.

The rest of the teenager looked human-like of course, only her yellow eyes giving away the fact she was a kin and not a human, well, that and her natural abilities.

The Chameleokin approached the next door and glanced back at Tarra as if to say ‘watch’.

She opened her mouth and an impossibly long tongue darted out like a striking cobra. It latched onto the metal door handle, which was of course locked, and held on, gripping it tight.

Tarra watched in silence. Some time passed with nothing happening.

She crossed her muscular arms in annoyance.

“Well?”

The Chameleokin rolled her eyes, which she was very very good at, and spoke.

“Ihts thake hwun sheckondh.”

As she spoke smoke started to curl from the handle, and then more, the metal rapidly starting to dissolve as freshly produced saliva began to liquify the thing.

In moments the metal handle plapped to the ground in a golden blob and she was melting through the rest of the lock.

A few seconds more and then she was removing her unharmed tongue and the door was gently swinging open under its own weight.

The Chameleokin took her tongue and produced a napkin, wiping the special saliva off before she retracted it back into her mouth. She gave the Oni a knowing look.

“A quick temporary saliva adaptation, on and then off. Easy.”

“Did you think this is much better you foolish girl? You have destroyed this door as well as my foot would have.”

“Nuh-uh, you can still totally use it as a door and that is what matters!”

“It has no handle!”

“Handle schmandle, whatever. C’mon we’ve got shit to do!”

Aggravated by the cocky nineteen year old Tarra followed her through into the next room of the palace, one which had part of an arm smashed through its center, an arm that blocked them from going further, an arm so thick in diameter that it filled the space floor to ceiling, acting as a wall in its own right.

The perky teenager approached it and tapped her finger on her chin in thought.

“Now how are we to get past this hmm?”

“Can we skip the silly little act please? We both know you can climb it.”

The Oni thrust a hand into the dimensional bag on her hip and shoved a coil of rope into the teenager’s hands.

“Here, get this up there and I’ll climb up too.”

“Woah woah woah, you can’t just command me like that, I’m number one remember? That means I have superiority over you as we are both Generals!”

The Oni’s eye twitched.

It wasn’t just that the short Chameleokin was now the most powerful member of Alexandria’s legion and most in her favour, no, it was that the stupid girl was only nineteen freaking years old! Her rise since joining the ranks of the legion three years ago had been absolutely meteoric, gaining levels and Skills at an astounding pace.

For Tarra, who was ten years her senior at twenty-nine, it was utterly galling. The fact she had overtaken her, the previous number one, almost didn’t seem real.

To put it lightly, she was a once in a decade prodigy, one that when she went to get her Class had temporarily blinded her peers with how brightly her Affinity had shone for the Adaptician Class, a Class uniquely suited to the nature of a Chameleokin.

That didn’t really make Tarra feel any better about being the lesser of them though, and her guts squirmed with jealousy.

“Just get on with it.” she snapped, turning away.

The teenager stuck her tongue out at her. Which in her case meant a lot of tongue.

She then turned to the curving purple wall that blocked their way and lifted her hands, smoothly pressing fingertips against its surface.

In a moment her body adapted and her fingertips grew suckers, becoming adhesive.

She began to climb, hand over hand, her bare toes latching on below, she went up, and looked like she would be fine until suddenly she climbed over a wet patch of scale and the stickiness gave out. She plunged back down the floor, nearly faceplanting into the rubble and having to stumble and half run in the most ridiculous way to catch her balance.

She came to a halt, small stones scattering around her bare feet, arms stretched out wide.

“Ha! What an undignified display, had you shown that to those outside our Lady’s legion you would have brought shame to her! You are not suited to be number one Ryoka, you are far too young and green behind the ears.

“Whinge whine bitch, I don’t see you climbing it. Oh right, that’s because you can’t, you’re just a dumb brick headed grunt.”

The Oni’s arms came uncrossed and she took a threatening step toward her.

“Watch your-

“No. Just watch and learn you frostbitten Orc.”

The teenager spread her legs, lowered her rear, and clenched her thighs, hard, then harder, her thighs bulging through the thin black unitard.

It only took a moment, her thighs were unmuscled and slim, and then they were swelling outward, piling on slabs and slabs of heavy muscle until they looked like she could crush a watermelon between her thighs with ease.

The Chameleokin lowered and wiggled her rear and then with a grunt she powered upward with incredible force.

Her jump launched her from the ground, a surprised Oni watching on, and catapulted her up, up and over the giant arm, into the small gap between it and the ceiling.

The chameleokin’s true power could be boiled down to one thing: Extreme physical adaptability. And that was why she was the best.

After a moment a rope uncoiled down the side of the arm and, red-faced with anger, Tarra grabbed hold of it, using her immense strength to haul herself up.

She reached the top, slipped through the gap, and jumped down on the other side, finding Ryoka already there, her thighs rapidly returning to their normal slim teenage form.

The two generals quickly passed beyond the room the arm was in and came into some of the less damaged parts of the palace. A greeting hall, a library, then a small kitchen for the staff.

“I think we’re nearing her head.”

“You’re forgetting she has a longer neck in her true form, it’s a little ways yet.”

“No, I’m not, it’s totally near, I know her better than you.”

“You talk braggart nonsense as usual. As much nonsense as your boast of strength, a pathetic little lie from a pathetic little girl.”

Ryoka paused, this time a flash of annoyance crossed the teenager’s face. She turned around between the counters of the kitchen and glared up at the Oni who loomed a good foot and a half above her five foot four.

“I’m not talking nonsense. I really am the physically strongest now, as well as being the best in a dual, the best in a battle, the best at scouting, the best at running, and the best at assassination. I’ve become stronger than you Tarra, you are my lesser in every single way, you are below me, I will tell you what to do and you will listen.”

A blue clenched fist came down on the stone counter and the tall Oni roared at the teenager.

This was too much! She had gone too far!

“I will not stand to hear you disrespect me brat!”

“Fine. Then let’s prove it. Arm wrestle me.” said the chameleokin, lifting her chin.

Seeing the declaration from the short teenager seemed absurd. The Oni was huge, hard bodied and extremely muscular, she wore a crop top exposing abs that you could forge steel upon, the crop top itself struggled valiantly to contain her expansive sarashi wrapped breasts. Below a pair of short shorts were stretched to breaking point by trunk-like thighs. On her back rested an iron Club nearly six foot long, an enormous chunk of metal that would have taken at least a dozen normal people to lift.

Her hair was white and long, spilling over her shoulders in glossy waves, and a single curved white horn emerged from her bangs, protruding from one side of her forehead, both framing a face that mixed attractiveness with a distinct sense of raw strength and will. The tips of two white teeth were just visible protruding up from her lower lip.

The chameleokin herself was slender, her chest modest, and her body covered in a stretchy black unitard from her ankles to her stapped shoulders where her arms were exposed. Her teenage face was fierce and confident in her explosive growth, a rising star hungry to displace and humiliate her elders, a bratty teenage upstart in every way.

The Oni barked a laugh at the offer and rounded on the stone island counter of the kitchen. Her elbow slammed down on its surface and she beckoned with her hand.

“Here. You will soon come to know your mistake.”

Ryoka didn’t hesitate, her much smaller arm came down on the counter and her hand was enclosed by the much larger Oni’s hand.

The battle started immediately, the Oni going for a quick ruthless win, aiming to crush her spirit. The teenager’s arm was slammed downward, meteoring toward the stone surface, mere inches away.

But then Ryoka’s flesh rippled, the thickness of her arm doubling in size, then doubling again, then tripling in density, then tripling again, her flesh roaring as it fought back, evolving in realtime to overcome her opponent.

Tarra’s eyes became round in shock as the teenager’s hand neared the surface, fractions of an inch away, and then came to a slow but inevitable stop.

The Oni fought back in a panic, her muscles bulging, twisting her entire body as she applied insane downward force, a hairline crack appearing in the stone, her other hand gripping the counter edge, a foot moving to apply more leverage in a desperate attempt to cheat, even pushing down over and over in slamming thrusts.

The Oni was of an immensely strong species, and she had a strength based Class too, one that synergized with her natural strength. That was her identity, what she had built her personality on, her uniqueness! She was the strongest!

But it didn’t matter. To the Oni’s horror the teenager’s arm slowly began to rise. She was resisting her even with her cheating! With her everything!

“n-No- N-NO!” she gasped, her breath coming in pants, her whole near seven foot body shaking with exertion.

It just didn’t matter. The teenager lifted her arm, up and up and up, and she could do nothing at all to stop it. The diminutive girl across from her was dominating her, completely and utterly in control.

Their hands reached the zenith and then with a small little smile Ryoka slammed down the Oni’s hand so hard the other way that the stone counter split down the middle, splinters of stone spitting into the air with the brutal impact.

She held Tarra there for a moment. Pinning her in place just because she felt like it.

And then she let go.

The wild eyed Oni stumbled back, falling on her rump, scrambling back across the ground until her back slammed against the nearest counter.

She stared at her hand in disbelief.

She had been bested by a teenager, not even one that focused on strength as her main ability. She had been casually crushed like it was nothing. Her life’s work, being the strongest, the best, now a pathetic little thing in the face of the bouncy giggly teenager.

A shadow fell over her and her head rose to find Ryoka, a look of glee on her face, and then she looked down to something else.

The teenager’s crotch was about level with Tarra’s head from where she sat, and so she had a perfectly framed view of the length that ran down from the teenager’s groin to half way down her thigh, the teenagers hermaphrodite dick, something that all chameleokin females were naturally born with. The black unitard was so tight over the thing that every little bulge and vein was outlined on its surface. The exertion of arm wrestling had apparently gotten the teenage girl hard.

Ryoka didn’t seem to care that her impressive bulge was so near the Oni’s face, or maybe it was that she was doing it on purpose.

“I told you. You aren’t anything compared to me, you’re too slow and you’re too weak Tarra. That’s why you are now mine to do as I please with.”

A hand darted out and an impossible strength gripped the Oni’s horn. She found her head being dragged in and her face was suddenly pressed against the long bulge in Ryoka’s black unitard. Pressed up against it she could only think of nothing but the feeling of its heat and stiffness against her cheek, her lips, unable to pull away as the teenager thrust herself against her face, biting her lip as she used the Oni’s face for her own pleasure, rubbing her length up and down across her facial features.

Truly Tarra could do nothing, the teenager was just too strong.

She was the teenager’s bitch.

She, a twenty nine year old, was this nineteen year olds junior.

If there was one small blessing it was that as a teenager the girl was on an extremely sensitive hair trigger and it didn’t take long for Ryoka to ejaculate, little pearls of white beading through her unitard to roll down the black surface.

She moaned softly, eyelids fluttering. Then, before letting Tarra go, she wiped her cum across her face, marking her blue skin with long smears of sticky opaque white.

“Gosh I needed that, there’s fuck all relief when we’re out on campaign. Alexandria really needs to see about getting an auxiliary of whores for me to fuck or something.” She sighed as she stepped away, leaving Tarra wide-eyed with shock.

It was just too much to deal with for Tarra. First she had been humiliated in wrestling, then she had been- she had been made submissive to a teenager! Used to get her off! A throwaway wank rag! Such a thing was something she had never experienced before, not even in the slightest.

Her tongue slipped from her lip as she thought about this and she tasted a little of the girl upon her face.

She froze. Why did she just do that?!? She screamed internally to herself. This was even worse than being used as a wank rag, she had now tasted Ryoka!

... Admittedly she tasted pretty goo- no! She quickly shoved the intrusive thought to the back of her mind, locking it in a box then chaining that box up never to be thought of again. Probably.

After a little while struggling with her new novel feelings, the Oni gathered herself, her heartbeat finally slowing. She climbed shakily to her feet.

The teenager had gathered food as she recovered and she found her eating. Already she had gone through four entire chickens and was devouring a fifth, an empty pot of stew and dozens of empty plates were scattered around her. She’d eaten everything the kitchen had to offer, all of the staff’s food, there was nothing left.

Tarra nibbled her lip. The now dried cum on her face completely forgotten.

“We, uh, need to get going, we came here for a reason remember?”

“Hmm? What’s that?”

“L-Lady Alexandria?”

“Ohhhhhh! I totes forgot about her, my baaaad.”

The teenager lifted a gallon jug of mash potato and gulped it down in moments then tossed it aside, the porcelain shattering across the floor.

She stood and brushed by Tarra, practically knocking her over. A hand appeared above her shoulder and she beckoned for the Oni to follow, beckoning her like a pet.

After a moment Tarra followed.

The teenager led the two through the palace, room after deserted room, many in a bad state, some untouched.

It didn’t take long to reach their destination. A library hall, one with part of a massive dragon head inside of it. They couldn’t even see Alexandria’s eyes, only her muzzle was inside, her mouth open, tongue lolling across the library, bookshelves and tables crushed beneath the thing.

Her breath fogged the air.

Ryoka stared at the sight. “Hey this is great and all but what the fuck are we supposed to do now?”

“With a dragoness? Nothing. You can’t wake her no matter how strong you are,” then lowering her voice and muttering darkly, “Despite being some cheating little lucker weasel.”

“I could try, I bet I could adapt to it.”

“Adapt to what? Adapt how?”

Ryoka didn’t have an answer to that and looked a little annoyed.

She was about to teach the Oni another lesson when a sound came from the muzzle. A lot of sound.

The generals clapped their hands over their ears as the Dragoness moaned in her sleep, mumbled words forming and filling the air, bookshelves collapsing around them from the sheer vibration.

“N-nuuuu, s-shtop, noot in my pusseeeyyy, n-nuu morrrr!”

Came the stupendous slurred voice, sounding somehow cute in its sleepiness despite Tarra’s eardrums feeling like they were on the verge of bursting.

The voice ended and the dragoness snuggled her head in the broken library, letting out a sleepy little sigh of satisfaction.

“Took me a sec to adapt to that,” muttered Ryoka, wiggling a finger in her ear.

She had adapted to that too?! It just wasn’t fair.

“I think that was a pretty obvious clue. We will find the answer as to why our Lady is asleep with ... her...

“With her vagina.” finished the teenager.

“Yes.”

“Alright fine, then show me where that is. Walk.”

Tarra gave her an irritated look but moved to do as she commanded. A lifetime in the legion listening to drill instructors wasn’t for nothing. As she turned a smacking sound filled the air, a teenage hand slapping against her globular rear sending it bouncing behind her shorts.

She almost removed her club and smashed it over the teenager’s head then and there, but she managed to control herself, no doubt that was what Ryoka wanted her to do, so she could physically humiliate her once again in a contest of strength.

Instead, she moved stiffly on.

This time they were more used to working their way around the half ruined palace, and the giant dragoness that filled it, and were able to travel from her head, down her neck, over her arms, under her wing, past her hips, then sneaking down below her knee they slipped between a gap where her tail lay under her thigh.

They came back up between her legs aiming for her crotch. It was there that a strange white fog started to fill the air, one that smelled tangy and heated, a fog that tickled the nose, and warmed the blood.

Tarra glanced at Ryoka and found she was having difficulty walking. Her unitard was tented out in front of her, her large seven inch erection pointing out directly in front of her hips making her silhouette appear absurd.

Was she harder than when she had used Tarra’s face as a wank rag? What was causing her arousal?

“Are you okay?”

“Yes! Shut up!” said the flustered teenager, trying to push her raging erection down and failing.

They passed through into an aesthetically pleasing room, someone had apparently matched the furniture to the purple scaled thigh that filled one end of the space.

More interesting than that though was the moaning that had started filling the air, soft breathy sounds winding their way from the door at the end, and along with them a steady plap, plap, plap sound.

The two generals shared a look, hands moving to weapons, and then proceeded forward.

The next room was deserted too, a dining room with one wall broken down between. They stepped through the broken wall and came out in what appeared at first glance to be a marsh, a boggy fog-filled place, the air incredibly humid and warm.

Just through the fog could be seen towering purple walls on either side. It was the dragoness’s thighs, and ahead at the ends of the thighs lay an even greater structure, an odd vast curving scaled surface cream in colour, one that reached up to the towering ceiling and to the sides, a great round soft shape that blocked vision of the rest of the great hall. Below the ground was puddled with something goopy and white and huge pillows were scattered across the room.

The two barely had eyes for any of this however as there were far more eye catching things to be seen, to be specific the hundred or so maids who were scattered across the room, each of them lying on enormous pillows varying in size from a couch to a wagon, the girls alone or slumped together in piles, their great heaving bellies taut and round, as though they were pregnant with octuplets or more, some even larger than that.

Oddly some of the puddles of white stuff seemed to be moving on their own, flowing up in long rivulets onto the pillows then between the legs of the pregnant girls, a very very slow oozing stream flowing into them. Not that the girls seemed to notice or mind in their addled state.

In the center of this space between the Dragon’s thighs was an enormous centaur. One thrusting steadily over and over into a girl resting atop a pile of other pregnant looking girls, her already filled belly being deformed by something pushing up through her, a shape stretching up from her rounded pregnancy and thrusting up between her breasts.

Behind the centaur a number of girls were clustered, worshipping her astonishingly large balls, pressing their breasts and bellies over the slick surface kissing and licking it in breathy little gasps.

As they watched the centaur pulled back and a dick as thick as a thigh was steadily pulled free from the trembling pussy of the maid, her muff and labia stretched paper-thin around the vein riddled mass, slopping over every slick with wet bump and groove.

The maid squirted as it came free, spraying the other girls down as she howled and the two generals realised that the obscene bulge that was slipping down between her breasts was in fact the centaur’s staggeringly large cock stretching her out.

“What in the actual fuck!” shouted Ryoka, hands forming fists at the sight, eyes flaring.

Despite the teenager’s anger Tarra couldn’t help notice beads of precum were pushing from her tented out unitard and that she was stiffer than ever. Wait ... was the teenager larger?

Distracted, she was surprised when Ryoka grabbed her arm.

“What in the hell is this Tarra?!” hissed the Chameleokin, staring up at her.

She blinked. Why was the teenager breathing so hard, and ... trembling?”

“I am not sure. Since the centaur is not a piece of burned charcoal, or crushed flat, or imprisoned, I can only logically surmise that she is a guest of Lady Alexandria, and is of some value to her.”

“A guest? Are you crazy? Look what she’s done to every single freaking maid in the palace! I know some of these girls! I- I- w-we were intimate with- and- and-”

The teenager’s eyes drifted to the side away from Tara and to a maid with rabbit ears was flopped spread-eagled over a couch sized pillow, faintly snoring with a blissful expression as her massively gaped cunt twitched and leaked something that looked suspiciously like cum. In fact looking at the puddles of white on the ground all of it appeared to be of the same substance, a thick glue-like semen.

Ryoka’s gaze was stuck on the rabbitkin’s gape however and she boggled at it. She could easily fit both of her fists in that reddened well used space, an open feminine cave.

She recalled going down to the kitchens to visit the rabbitkin when she had needed relief, hiking up her skirt and using her in the pantry, the maid’s wild cries about her size massaging her ego, using her teenage energy to drive the maid to ecstasy.

Now her cock wouldn’t even touch the walls if she tried to fuck her. She had been ruined, stretched out for a much larger size than she, moulded so that she would only ever be satisfied by massive throbbing centaur cock. The maid wouldn’t even notice her inside her pussy, her the most powerful legionnaire of Lady Alexandria’s legion, her prime general.

The thought made her flush with indignant anger, her pride injured. How dare this centaur do this to her! How dare she!

She turned from Tarra and stormed toward the centaur, erection waving madly side to side as she strode. She tried her best to ignore that.

“Hey!” she demanded. Her fists on her hips as she looked up at the towering centaur.

The centaur didn’t seem to hear her, simply continuing to leisurely slide in and out of the maid she was currently fucking, oblivious to Ryoka’s presence, it was almost as if she was in a trance.

One of the maids pulled free from the centaur’s enormous balls, strands of wetness dangling from her chin.

“She won’t hear you, she’s barely hanging on as it is. But if you want to join in then just strip off and present your rear. Trust me on this, it’s soooo worth, ohh my gawwwd you have no idea!”

Ryoka spluttered.

“I am not presenting myself for this, for this barbaric centaur to turn into- into-

Her eye caught on the belly bulge rising between the breasts of the one the centaur was currently fucking.

“-Into a living c-cock sleeve!”

“Hmm, suit yourself, but you’re missing out. Look what she did to me!

The maid flipped up her skirt and hooked her hands around her cheeks, spreading herself and showing her massively gaped pussy, her puckered cervix clearly visible, a dribble of something white oozing from it.

The incredibly lewd sight caused a little sputter of white to spray Ryoka’s tented unitard, her teenage hair trigger pushed over the edge and causing her to ejaculate. The little string of white flew through the air ... and landed in the cavernous space that was the maid’s stretched out cunt.

The maid let out a gasp of surprise at the wet touch then shivered as the horse semen that was already inside of her lunged at Ryoka’s cum.

Ryoka stared wide-eyed as her cum was attacked and taken into the thicker heavier white, greedily eaten and absorbed.

“I- this isn’t real, this can’t be- r-real,” she mumbled.

“Ooh your little spurt is so cuuuute!” cooed a maid who had been watching the scene.

“Oh my god it’s so tiny!” said another holding up her pinky and comparing it to the tented unitard. This maid was particularly long-legged and tall and very very pregnant looking, she also seemed to be drinking from a large tankard that Ryoka reluctantly realised was filled with the goopy white stuff. “It’s like a baby carrot! Gods those minotaur girls in the newsletter really weren’t kidding about having your perspective changed on what real size is.”

Ryoka didn’t understand what she was talking about, her thing was most definitely not tiny, she was seven- she glanced down, eight inches? She couldn’t recall being this size before, but maybe it was her losing her mind at the sight of so many ruined pussies.