Project Tooth and Claw (F/Futa, M/Futa, Transformation, Sizeplay, Furry)

Story by Lithier

This is a commissioned series featuring lots of dragon-themed transformation and very large things going into folks. Thanks goes to Myrilla for funding this little adventure ^.^ Hope you enjoy!

If you want to see more of my work, check my post in the node thread, the text-based game I'm working on, and for a complete list of my work to date, go check out SoFurry or FurAffinity!

"Wait, wait," the leopard half-shouted to be heard over the chopper, grinning incredulously. "You mean the big new plan to beat the russkies, our new secret weapon," she made a dramatic chopping gesture, "is supposed to be... dragons?" She glanced around the cabin. "How long has it been since a recorded dragon attack? Like, three hundred years?"

"Two hundred and thirty-eight." Myrilla didn't shout. The blue canine sat back on the opposite bench, looking at the floor.

"What?" The leopard leaned forward, re-shrugging her rifle when it started to fall off her shoulder. She hardly seemed to know how to even carry the thing.

"Shut up, Lewis!" The rabbit at Myrilla's side slouched in her seat as much as she could in her harness, scooting her rear toward the edge. "Just... shut up." She rubbed at her head.

Looking around the open-air cabin, Myrilla's escort didn't inspire much confidence in her. She'd been surprised there were so many women in the squad, and she'd hoped to get along well, but... these weren't exactly the strapping young models of American patriotism she'd come to assume was protecting them from the red menace.

The rabbit next to her seemed to be going through some personal crisis, assuming she wasn't always... well... a bitch. Across the cabin, the young colt sitting to one side was clutching to an air sickness bag-- she hadn't even thought they'd have those on military helicopters, but he'd known exactly where to find one. In the middle was Lewis, the leopard frowning silently at her now. And next to her was the most uptight vixen Myrilla had ever encountered-- she might well have been a proper soldier by the way she carried herself, but every time their eyes met, she gave Myr the worst stare until she finally averted her eyes. She didn't have anything to prove, and she didn't know what the fox's problem was. And then there was the wolf sitting on Myr's other side. Ms. Tremic. She didn't look at Myr with hatred-- she didn't look at her like a sentient being. She'd been the one to invite Myrilla on this little expense-paid trip, but Myr was getting pretty mixed feelings about being involved with whatever the wolf was working on.

She cast her gaze out the gaping side of the helicopter, surveying the thick forest rolling by beneath them. If it really was a dragonhome they'd found out here, buried in the South American jungle, virtually intact...? It'd be amazing just to-- just to see it. With her own eyes. She squeezed the camera hanging at her middle. Photographic evidence would set the archaeological forums on fire for years. Decades. She scanned the horizon, craning her head around, trying to spot the mountain. Who was she kidding? Anything would be worth it, if this was the real thing. If.

When they finally began to descend, she gave a heavy sigh of relief, flexing and stretching her legs. About damn time. As they were unstrapping, though, the gray vixen barked, "five miles to the North. Box it up, safeties on."

Myr's mouth hung open. "Five miles?! Couldn't we have landed closer?"

Ms. Tremic took her by the arm, and Myr followed her off the chopper before she was dragged off. "We land where the ground is clear enough, Dr. Winterbeau." Her smile was cold. "It's a lovely day for a walk, though, don't you think."

It was true that the weather favored a walk-- the clearing was bright under the late morning sun. As she stepped away from the chopper, she found herself surrounded-- her and Ms. Tremic walked together, with the four armed troops arrayed around them. Surrounded by armed soldiers in camouflage, however poorly trained they may have seemed, she felt rather odd walking around in khakis and a matching hat, toting a bag and a camera. She almost looked like a tourist, especially compared to Ms. Tremic's fine suit. That didn't seem appropriate garb for the jungle, but Myrilla was beginning to suspect the wolfess didn't wear much else. All in all, they made a strange group entering the jungle.

"Is... all this... really necessary?" Myr gestured to the soldiers with a small frown. "I know this is a government operation, but I mean, it's just an historical site, not a battlefield."

The wolfess smiled with what might have been a sliver of hum

... more on the forums ...