Another short scene I wrote recently. Dras the anthro technopunk raptor and black market trample pornstar (yes, both of those things), teaming up with a small amphibian employee to make trample porn the easy way. For reference, raptors and kratians look like this:
http://download.lavadomefive.com/members/snail/graphics/01_photoshop_and_tablet_work/o_drs_drssngrm.jpgNo sexual content, but this is a gory story, so no one's allowed to read it except the three or four people here who are actually adults.
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Dras closes the warehouse door behind him and stalks into the large, open room with a lively, "Gohter! How's it going, little buddy? You got suckered into this again, huh?"
A couple of four-foot kratians and one two-foot monitor lizard turn to look as the anthro raptor enters.
"Hey, Dras," greets one of the kratians, and he staggers forwards toward the taller reptile before toppling sideways, drawing laughter from the others. His smooth amphibious body is almost entirely covered by a black spandex suit with red motion tracking patches stuck to it here and there.
"Wow, you're pretty messed up," the raptor says, coming over to roll Gohter onto his back with a booted digitigrade foot and peer down at him. "How much did they give you, bud?"
The kratian gazes unsteadily up at him, grinning. "Way, waaay loads. I'm not gonna feel a thing."
Dras frowns. "Well try and at least struggle a bit, yeah?"
"Sure thing, baby. Oh fuuuck..."
The snickering raptor steps over him and joins the others. "So I've gotta wear a stretchy suit too, huh?" He is tossed a black bundle by the monitor, whose angry stare is made all the more amusing by his tiny size. He doesn't even come up to Dras' knees.
"You're late. Have you even looked at the script?"
Dras snorts, holding up the suit to examine it. "Fuck the script. You want me to trample him and make it look sexy. I don't need a script for that." He leans down to unbuckle his boots, sliding them off before unashamedly pulling off his pants and shirt and stretching thoroughly, bare scales gleaming in the neon lights of the warehouse. "Sure you can't just stick those red things on me instead?" he says, turning to look at the other kratian. "Trampling with clothes on sucks big time."
"Sorry Dras," the amphibian says, cowering behind a laptop that he is clutching to his chest. "Your scales are uh... too reflective." He swallows hard. "The trackers only work properly on a suit. But you... you look really good in one," he adds, biting his lower lip.
Dras eyes him.
"Put the suit on, prettyboy," the monitor growls, and scuttles over to the floored kratian. "Gohter, will you fucking come out of it? You've got to squirm and struggle, remember? You're about to get trampled to death by a sadistic raptor and it's supposed to fucking hurt!"
"Yeah yeah, sure thing, boss! Hah!" He sits up and blinks over at Dras. "So whaddayagonna do to me?"
The monitor puts his tiny clawed hands on his head. "Oh gods, didn't you read the script either?"
Gohter swipes out to slap him on the back, staggering the small reptile. "Relax, boss. We're pros, Dras and me."
The anthro raptor hisses in exasperation as he fumbles to zip up the suit behind him. "Fuck's sake... I hate these things. Feel like a fucking krat." He leans from side to side, lifting his long digitigrade legs one after the other and testing his mobility. The black spandex suit covers all of his lithe, athletic saurian body up to the head, behind which it stretches up and over his cranium, squashing back his proud feather crest. The small red patches are distributed all over the suit at key joints, enabling sensors around the room to track the movement of the wearer's various body parts. There are an especially large number of them around the talons, each lengthy raptor toe with its own separate pocket and a tracker on each joint.
"Guess we could start with some single-footed kneading," Dras says, padding over and onto the gym mat alongside Gohter. "Soften you up a bit. Then probably catwalking to break your bones and face trampling to finish you off. What do you reckon, Kah?" He turns to glance at the monitor and gets a curt nod.
"It'll do."
The raptor smirks, turning back to Gohter, and puts a sickled foot on the kratian, flattening him down out of his sitting posture to an unsteady gurgle of protest.
"Hey, cut it out, we ain't started yet!" He tries to push the large raptor foot off him, but Dras only folds his arms, grinning.
"How long ago did you shoot up?"
Gohter looks up at him. "I don't know... how long have I been here?"
"Forty-five minutes," the monitor calls out as he surveys the nervous kratian's laptop screen. "Nanites networks are fully established and he's obviously high as a budgie. Stop wasting time and get started. And don't screw up, either of you. We're fucked if we have to do a second take while Gohter's pulp and I don't want to have to wait until tomorrow to finish up."
"Yeah, like you wouldn't enjoy a repeat performance," Dras says, taking his foot of the drugged kratian and leaning down to grab his tail. Gohter sprawls weakly as the tall dinosaur drags him into the middle of the gym mat, squarely under the lighting rig. "How's this?"
The nervous kratian looks up from behind his laptop. "That- that's fine!" he says, adding awkwardly, "Thank you."
Dras frowns, looking down as he bounces a little on the balls of his digitigrade feet. "You're not putting any plastic down? This is gonna get messy..."
"Interferes with the tracking," says the monitor. "No more plastic. And don't tear his suit," he says, striding onto the mat to glower up at the towering raptor. "If I have to buy another one, it's coming out of your salary."
Dras folds his arms. "How the fuck am I supposed to trample his guts out without making a hole, shorty?"
"You're the expert. You work it out."
In the middle of the mat, Gohter sits up again, large amphibious eyes dilated despite the glare of the lighting rig. "Hey, maybe you could trample them out of my mouth," he slurs. "You did that before, remember?"
"Yeah, that shouldn't be too hard on a soft surface," Dras says thoughtfully, scratching his chin. He claps his hands together suddenly. "Alrighty! Let's do this thing. You recording, shorty?"
"Get on with it."
An amused snort and the athletic deinonychus hauls his amphibious colleague up into a wobbly standing stance, the two black market crush stars facing off near the middle of the mat. "You ready?" the raptor asks the kratian.
Gohter sniffs sharpy and bounces a little, arms swinging to loosen up. "Okay," he says. "You want me to fight back?"
"If you like," Dras snickers, and spins around to aim a roundhouse kick squarely at the amphibian's suited chest. Gohter folds around the impact, saliva streaking in a long arc as he is floored, and the raptor strides over to tail-smash him as he tries to get up.
Now semi-concussed on his belly, Gohter can only flail ineffectually as Dras rolls him over, and he curls up around the large sickled raptor foot that is pressed deep into his stomach. It stretches to easily cover his width, the mere toes and ball of the saurian's sleek, powerful talon stretched over his abdomen. Through the thin, tight fabric of the suit, the distinctive, firm pads on Dras' sole are plain to feel against his smooth flesh. They feel warm and supple, as they always do after the raptor has been wearing boots.
Arms now folded domineeringly across his chest, the tall deinonychus grins down at his smaller partner and begins to squash and squeeze him under a single foot, cracking ribs, tenderising muscle and softening amphibious hide until it practically oozes under his firm sole pads. Despite the brutal damage, the kratian's grunts and gurgles are all evoked by reflex rather than pain. Were it not for the morphine, he would be in agony.
After a few minutes of one-footed tenderising, Gohter is almost totally limp and Dras moves to stand upon the kratian's tail for the second act. Neatening up his feet to point along the centre of the 4-foot body before him, Dras pauses for another pose, enjoying, as always, the sight of a helpless victim at his talons. He savours the act of putting his foot on Gohter, letting it shift and relocate a little before settling it over the amphibian's hips, squarely between his legs. Slowly the raptor eases his weight forwards and puts his other foot on his victim too, just in front of the first. His movement is accompanied by cracks and squishes from the small body below, but Dras unhesitatingly straightens up and catwalks over the kratian, crossing his body length in four careful steps.
With one suited talon on his victim's head, the raptor turns around and walks back the other way, bones crunching beneath him and limbs writhing in reflexive distress. The feet of the athletic dinosaur quickly reduce the small amphibian to a broken mess, walking back and forth over him again and again while his contortions grow weaker and less controlled. Eventually Gohter only sags limply as Dras' feet tread here and there, his body having given up the fight to stay alive. Soft bulges squish and squirm as the big sickled paws walk over them, giving the kratian the look and feel of a stretchy black bag full of jelly. Still the raptor tramples him, methodically liquefying his innards with a steady pacing until they begin leaking from his lolling mouth with each step to his upper body.
At this point, Dras returns to stand over Gohter's flattened tail and turns around. With his lithe, suited body towering over the slaughtered kratian, he begins the meticulous task of eviscerating his victim without tearing the suit. Carefully, the raptor wipes one of his thick, padded soles backward, sweeping it up over the amphibian's flattened hips with a slick squelch. He shifts his weight and wipes his other foot backward alongside the first, pushing up a soft bulge of squashed innards inside the flacid body behind the back sides of his digitigrade feet. Slowly he works his way backwards, emptying the suited amphibian from the bottom up with careful backward wipes of his heavy soles until Gohter's chest and throat bulge with the accumulated contents of his lower body. At this point, Dras glances behind him and begins carefully pushing the kratian's innards up and out of his mouth with more slow wipes of his sickled feet.
After a few minutes of this, Gohter is a flattened husk with a bruised, lifeless head amidst a pile of his own regurgitated organs. Dras turns around and stretches before setting a padded foot upon the pale face of the amphibian. He holds it there, posing smugly for a few long seconds before easing his weight forwards and covering the small skull under both feet. It bears his weight, just about, but as the suited dinosaur begins to smoothly tread left and right, Gohter's head breaks, crumpling inwards around the soles of the trample star and finally collapsing with a drawn-out gurgle to streak the mat between Dras' splaying toes.
Professional to the end, the purring deinonychus, struts a little way off his victim's remains, pauses, and wipes his feet on the mat before striding off a few paces.
"How's he holding up?" Dras asks, stretching at the edge of the mat and turning to glance over at the other two.
The monitor clears his throat, turning his beady eyes upon the other kratian, whose mouth hangs open silently. The tiny lizard smacks him around the back of the head and he starts, fumbling to open the laptop.
"Um, yes... Neural pattern looks stable. The nanites have him." He takes a shaky breath and looks Dras up and down. "Good gods..."
The raptor smirks. "Pretty brutal, huh?" He turns to the monitor. "And not a single hole in your precious suit. Gods, I love popping krats. Soft on the outside, smooth and creamy on the inside." He reaches behind him to unzip the suit and dexterously extracts himself from it, azure scales gleaming under the lights. "Hey, how did the head squashing come out? Felt pretty good and intense to me."
"It was fine. Good job." The monitor climbs onto the mat and edges foward around Gohter's remains. "Leave your suit here, I'll have the cleaning guys sort it out. You," he says to the shaky amphibian. "Stay here until we've got our star victim back, then get him to the clinic."
"Yes... yes sir. I'll just... I'll stay here."
"And for fuck's sake, don't let anyone clean that up until he's reformed."
Dras finishes cleaning off his soles with the suit, then bundles it up and tosses it down amongst the mashed organic pulp of his victim. "So when am I gonna see me?" he says, pulling on his shirt as the monitor scuttles past.
"Week, maybe," replies the tiny lizard, pausing at the warehouse door. "Depends if the idiots downstairs saved your model from last time or if we're gonna have to redo you from scratch." He stretches up to flick the power switch and the rig lights fade out with a heavy, industrial clunk. "I might let you have a copy if you arrive on time for the next show, having read the fucking script."
Dras picks up one of his black digitigrade boots and examines it. "You know, you'd fit pretty well in one of these, Kah..."
The door slams shut.
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Just long enough for me to read 'n' enjoy in a casual surfing session. 
