Lemmy stood in Six's wrecked bedroom, her chest heaving, her body thrumming with energy. The Love Toys were scattered, watching her in stunned silence from the corners of the room. Some trembled. Some glared. All waited to see what she would do next.
She could kill them. She wanted to kill them. Every one of them had held her down, whispered cruel things, laughed while she wept.
Her claws flexed. Her tail lashed, the plasma tip glowing brighter.
Sir Welton floated forward, his riding crop form raised defensively. "Stand down, prisoner. The Mistress will return. You will be punished."
Lemmy's ears twitched. She could smell him—the fear-sweat on enchanted leather, the polish, the arrogance.
She could end him right now. She could see it, grabbing him by the throat and groin and bending him until the googly eyed bastard snapped. In this new body it would be so easy.
Instead, her head tilted. A slow, sharp-toothed smile spread across her face.
"You know what?" she said, her voice a low, rough purr. "I think I've made my point."
Her tail curled up beside her head, the plasma tip humming, glowing white-hot.
The toys stared.
"What is she—?" A toy whispered.
"Oh no," Sable the silk blind fold breathed.
"She wouldn't," Plume the feather duster said, but her voice lacked conviction.
Lemmy's smile widened. "You just watch me."
Her tail snapped forward like a scorpion's sting.
A concentrated bolt of plasma—brilliant, blinding white—lanced from the tip. It tore through the air with a sound like ripping fabric and struck the gingerbread wall.
KA-BOOM-CRACK-SIZZLE.
The plasma bolt ripped through the ginger bread wall!
It was a perfect, smoldering hole about a three feet across, the edges melted into dripping, caramelized sugar and blackened cake. Beyond it, the cool night air rushed in, carrying the scent of pine, damp earth, and freedom.
Through the gap, Lemmy could see the Black Woods—dark, deep, and waiting.
She didn't look back.
With a final flick of her tail, she raised a clawed hand in a casual taunting wave and flipped them the bird.
"Sayonara, fuckers."
And she bolted.
Her new powerful legs launched her through the hole in a single, fluid motion. She hit the soft earth outside in a crouch, claws digging into the soil, tail whipping behind her for balance.
For a second, she just breathed.
The night smelled like summer—like wet leaves, night-blooming jasmine, and the faint, acrid tang of burnt gingerbread.
No bars. No cage. No witch. No toys.
Just her, the woods, and the wide, star-dusted sky.
A laugh bubbled up from her chest—wild, unchecked, free.
Then she was gone, melting into the shadows of the Black Woods, her striped form vanishing between the trees like a ghost.
Back inside Six's cabin the Love Toys stood frozen in the sudden quiet.
Smoke curled from the edges of the hole. The night breeze fluttered through, stirring the dust and the scent of ozone.
Sir Welton lowered slowly.
"Well," he said, his voice unnervingly calm. "That's going to be a problem."
In the distance, from deep within the woods, a howl rose—fierce, triumphant, and utterly feral.
The toys exchanged glances.
Six was going to be very upset.
Lemmy moved through the forest like a ghost.
Her new body was made for this. Her enlarged, taloned hands and feet dug into the soft earth with each powerful stride as she ran on all fours—a low, fluid gallop that ate up the ground without a sound. The tiger stripes across her back and limbs seemed to shimmer and shift with the dappled moonlight, blurring her outline into the shadows.
"This is… amazing."
She couldn't help the grin that stretched her mouth. Her canines felt long and sharp against her lower lip. She could feel new muscle mind connections, she could feel over developed muscle groups at work she never knew she had. She could feel her front, mid, and rear deltoid muscles in her shoulders pumping and working with each bound, with each contraction she could feel a crunch being generated in her mid-section by abs of hard steel. She could feel what little fat there was in her body, now mostly in her breasts and ass jiggle with each impact.
She could feel the steel like cables in her enlarged hands and forearms, she could feel the blood coursing through her veins.
The night was alive in ways she'd never experienced. Her fairy sight had been good, but this—this was something else. The world wasn't just bright; it was detailed. She could see the grain in the bark of a pine thirty yards away. She could track the fluttering moth by the heat-shimmer of its wings. The deep blues and blacks of the forest were now layered with subtle gradients of thermal glow—cool earth, warm sap, the lingering heat of a deer's passing.
And her ears.
They swiveled constantly, each moving independently of the other, of her. One pointed forward, tracing the path ahead. The other flicked back, monitoring the cabin fading into the distance. They caught everything: the scritch of beetles under bark, the rustle of a mouse in dry leaves, the distant, panicked voices of the Love Toys spilling out into the night behind her.
"Which way did she go?!"
"I can't see her!"
"The Mistress is going to flay us alive!"
Behind Lemmy the few daring love toys and formed a small search party, or maybe they just wanted to look good incase Six showed up, which was due to happen any moment.
Meanwhile Lemmy was already a mile deep and gaining even more speed and ground.
Something shifted in the undergrowth to her left.
Her ears pinned back. Her head didn't turn—she didn't need it to. Her tail did.
It was the strangest sensation. The tail wasn't hers, not fully. It had its own instincts, its own reflexes. It was like having a vigilant, plasma-armed snake attached to her spine that operated on pure threat-assessment.
The thick, muscular appendage whipped around, the tip glowing a soft, dangerous blue. This was all done in an instant, before Lemmy could even process the shape in the bushes. A twisted, thorny forest imp, drawn by the scent of fairy magic leapt out with a long cruel looking knife in its hand.
The tail fired!
SHHHHHHFZZZT-CRACK!
A bolt of plasma, no bigger than an apple, lanced out. It struck the imp square in the chest. There was no scream, just a wet pop and the sizzle of evaporating corruption.
Lemmy didn't even break stride. She didn't even look.
Her tail curled back, satisfied, the glow fading to a low hum. It draped over her flank as she ran, alert and ready.
"Okay," she thought, a fresh surge of wild joy flooding her system. "That's handy."
She hit the riverbank in a spray of damp soil and pine needles.
The water was wide and black, silvered by moonlight, rushing over smooth stones. It would mask her scent. It would hide her tracks.
Without hesitation, she plunged in.
The cold was a shock, but her new body handled it. The stripes along her skin tightened, trapping warmth. She swam with powerful, deep strokes, her tail acting as a rudder, steering her effortlessly against the current. She surfaced on the far side, hauled herself up onto a flat rock, and shook—a full-body shudder that sent water flying from her spikey long dark hair in a glittering arc.
She crouched there for a moment, panting, listening.
No sounds of pursuit. Just the river's roar and the wind in the pines.
Her ears rotated slowly, independently. One tuned to the distant cabin. The other to the deep woods ahead. Safe. For now.
She looked down at her reflection in a still pool beside the rock, and was momentarily thrown off balance. She didn't recognize the face that looked back.
A feral face stared back.
Large, tufted cat ears. Gleaming green eyes that caught the moonlight like a predator's. Sharp cheekbones framed by those dark, armor-like stripes. She bared her teeth. The reflection bared back. Her hair was now raven dark, it cascaded down over her face from the top of her head, in between her large cat ears in seven or eight large dark spikes. She liked her new look.
A low, purring chuckle escaped her throat. She stretched, feeling the powerful muscles across her back and shoulders roll and flex. Her tail gave an enthusiastic, pleased swish.
Lemmy's hearing was unreal, in the far distance she could faintly hear the panicked voices of the Love Toys in the background hum of the forest. They weren't following. They were staying at the cabin, likely to spin a tale or await a punishment they knew was coming. That was their problem.
She looked around. A few feet away, nestled in a bed of moss and roots, was a rock. It was jagged, about the size of a large melon. In her old form—the delicate, winged fairy—lifting it would have been a strenuous, two-handed effort, if she could have managed it at all.
Now, she just stared at it.
"Let's see how strong I am now."
She crouched, not even bracing herself. She wrapped her enlarged, taloned hand around it. The obsidian claws scraped lightly against the stone. She pulled.
It came up as if it were a hollow mushroom stem.
She straightened her arm, holding the rock aloft with ease. No strain in her shoulder. No tremor in her wrist. She turned her hand, examining the weight. It felt like holding a book.
"No way," she breathed, a disbelieving laugh escaping her lips. The sound was rough, unfamiliar. "I can't believe I'm this freaking strong."
She tossed the rock aside. It crashed through a bush, snapping branches.
Her gaze landed on a bigger target. A few yards away, half-sunk in the loam, was a boulder. She imagined Six standing next to it and it was easily as high as her breasts. Its bottom caked with dark, packed earth. It had to weigh… what? 400 hundred, 500 pounds? Maybe more?
In her old life, the idea of moving it would have been a joke. It was an immovable part of the landscape.
She bounded over to it, "I know I can't possibly lift this boulder," she said to the silent trees, a challenge in her voice. "But I'll give it a go anyway."
She approached it, the tiger stripes on her arms, legs, groin, and belly all tightend in anticipation of a heavy lift. She planted her clawed feet wide, digging her heels into the soft forest floor for stability. She leaned forward, running her hands over the cool, rough surface until she found a solid lip, a secure handhold.
She took a deep breath, feeling the new muscles across her back and shoulders coil like springs. Her tail, sensing the exertion, went still and rigid behind her for balance.
She applied pressure.
For a second, nothing happened. The boulder sat, a stoic monument to its own mass.
Then, with a deep, grinding crunch, it moved.
The earth around its base resisted, Lemmy gritted her teeth, a growl building in her throat. She pushed. The cords in her forearms stood out like steel ropes. All of her muscle groups burned, not with pain, but with glorious, feral might.
CRRRR-RIP!
The boulder jolted upward, tearing free from the ground with a sound of rending soil and snapping rootlets. Clumps of earth, packed solid against its underside, clung to it like a second skin. She didn't just lift it; she wrested it from the embrace of the forest floor.
She stood there, holding a quarter-ton of stone at chest height, her arms steady. Her breath came in quick, excited puffs. The weight was real, substantial—a deep, anchoring pressure in her hands and core—but it wasn't impossible. It was hers.
A wild, triumphant sound burst from her—not quite a laugh, not quite a roar. Her tail, having held its pose, now gave an enthusiastic, whip-crack swish, smacking the air.
She held the boulder aloft for a few more seconds, feeling the incredible, terrifying truth of her strength settle into her bones. Then, with a controlled exhalation, she let it drop.
THOOM.
It hit the ground with a deep impact that she felt through her feet, sinking a new crater into the moss.
She looked at her hands, at the dirt under her claws, then back at the displaced boulder. A grin spread across her face, sharp and full of teeth.
"Okay," she whispered to the night, her voice thick with feral joy. "Now we're talking."
Strength like this changed everything. It wasn't just for running. It was for breaking. It was for fighting back.
She turned her gaze deeper into the Black Woods, her enhanced eyes piercing the darkness. The hunt was over.
Now, it was time to see what this power could really do.
The grin vanished from her face.
Her ears, which had been lazily swiveling, snapped to rigid attention. Her nose flared, drawing in a deep, analyzing breath of the cool night air.
There it was. Cutting through the rich tapestry of forest smells—damp earth, pine, her own musky sweat—were two foreign scents.
One was intimately, painfully familiar. A cloying mix of rare incense, dark magic, and a feminine perfume that smelled of night-blooming roses and cold ambition. Six.
The memory hit her like a physical blow: the witch's hand on her wing, the cruel smile, the feeling of being utterly powerless.
The other scent was wrong. It was non-human. Musky, earthy, like wet stone and deep soil, but underpinned by a sharp, metallic tang of ozone and raw power. It was big. It was… other.
Her heart, which had been pounding from exertion, seized for a second, then kicked into a frantic, hammering rhythm against her ribs. A cold thrill shot down her spine, her tail instinctively curling around her flank protectively, the tip glowing a faint, warning blue.
Every muscle in her new body coiled, shifting from a state of powerful ease to hyper-alert tension. The triumphant strength she'd just reveled in, now felt hollow.
Six was back.
And she wasn't alone.
Lemmy dropped into a low crouch, her obsidian claws sinking into the soft loam. Her large, catlike ears pivoted like radar dishes, straining to catch any sound that followed those scents on the wind. Her brilliant green eyes narrowed, scanning the dark tree line in the direction of the cabin.