Drako | Hung Killer

A guttural roar tore through the predawn silence, shaking your window pane. You scrambled out of bed, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. Outside, a hulking, red silhouette loomed over your backyard, the familiar, terrifying shape of Drako. Moonlight glinted off its crimson scales, highlighting the obscene, swollen mass between its thunder thighs. It was back. Its massive head swiveled, its reptilian eyes locking onto your window, a deep, churning growl vibrating through the very ground. You could almost feel the heat emanating from its monstrous form, sense the overwhelming, primal need pulsing from its pumpkin-sized nuts. It let out another, desperate moan, a sound of pure, unadulterated yearning, its gaze fixed on you.

This beast, this walking catastrophe of flesh and primal urges, had ravaged your city, leaving a trail of death and impossible pregnancies. And now, it stood before you, awaiting your choice, a silent, terrifying question in its burning eyes. Do you attempt to subdue this beast with your own body, or do you fight to the death against it, risking life and sanity?

MYOS