If you like my art, sketches, stories, transformations you can find more like this on my Patreon page or in DeviatArt Premium Early Access folder for subscribers here. Every bit of support is truly appreciated, but just having you here means the most to me - without you, none of this would have been possible. Thank you very much!
Check also my shop at DeviantArt for other works
Flora flinched with her whole body. Her wings jerked, flaring unevenly, and for a fraction of a second she was knocked sideways, but the big hand shifted in that direction, caring, almost like the automatic backrest of an expensive chair.
Rico slowly blinked, as if trying to understand what mattered more: her or his own life. Both mattered.
— I… — he lifted his gaze, slightly shielding his “my precious” from the tall man. — She… boss, she almost fell…
— I don’t give a shit whether she fell or not! — the “boss” barked, stepping closer. — Put her in some kind of jar if you can’t hold her!
Rico’s eyes flew open so wide it looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets.
— Don’t talk like that, boss! With all due respect, but—
— Bend down, Rico! — Flora suddenly cut him off, not expecting it from herself, noticing how the “boss” pulled a silenced pistol from under his coat.
Her high voice sounded unexpectedly firm, almost commanding. Rico, without hesitation, obediently crouched and turned his back to the “boss,” covering her with his massive body. At that very moment, two dull pops rang out — the bullets whistled over his head and slammed into the shelving behind, shattering one of the boxes. Red biomass splashed out, hissing and flaring with violet sparks.
Flora launched off his palm. Her wings buzzed at their limit, the green light slashing across the boss’s eyes in a blinding flash. He squeezed his eyes shut, cursing and staggering back.
And, as if someone behind the wall had been waiting for exactly this moment, Granite burst into the room. Granite, not Marcus — because Marcus wasn’t capable of smashing through a basement’s concrete wall a meter thick as if it were just the wooden wall of a village outhouse.
The concrete exploded inward in crumbs and dust, the air compressed from the shockwave, and Flora was thrown back as if she’d flown into a hot gust of wind. Her wings howled, barely keeping her in the air, her breasts painfully jerked under the white top, and for a moment she lost all sense of direction.
Rico screamed, getting up and running toward her with his arms stretched out — not thinking, not choosing a path, just rushing to where, in a cloud of dust and light, a small glowing body was dangling.
— MY PRECIOUS! — his voice broke, turned hoarse. — Hold on! I’m here!
— DOWN! — Granite’s voice roared, his super-hearing catching the flutter of Flora’s wings as he snapped his gaze that way. — FLY HERE!
— NO, MY PRECIOUS! FLY TO ME! — Rico immediately shouted over him, his voice breaking into a hoarse cry full of desperate pleading. He spread his arms wider, forgetting everything around him except the tiny figure swaying in the cloud of dust.
Flora didn’t think. She just surged forward, through the thunder of collapsing concrete, the whine of bullets still ricocheting in echoes off the walls, and Granite’s roar as he was already charging through the breach. Her wings buzzed at the limit, green light cutting through the dusty curtain like a beacon. Her breasts bounced under the white top, her heels dangled uselessly in the air, the crown of flowers slid to the side again, but she didn’t notice. Everything in her head blurred together: “My precious… hold on… fly here… to me…” — Rico’s and Granite’s words merged into a solid hum, drowned out only by the pounding of her own heart.