If you're fucked either way, why not get fucked HARD?

You don't like how easy it is for you to surrender. How naturally it comes to you to just give in. One of the things you wanted to change about yourself here is your history of surrendering at the first hint of a fight. You have no illusions that you'll win this one, but you figure if you are going to get fucked no matter what you do, you might as well fuck back.

You start, as is your nature, with one last pointless attempt at diplomacy, asking the first Donna, "Can't we just get to know each other instead of playing these childish games. Who knows? Maybe we hit it off and I want you to all gang **** me in the end anyway. It's better than a pointless fight that ruins the mood for everyone." Your Donna looks at her namesake sharing sisters as if she might actually be considering it for a second. Then, they all bust out in cackling peels of laughter.

"Hahahaha! That's the first time in ages that our lunch has tried to make friends with us!" Donna dos snickers as she starts stripping and shifting, revealing her true form. Her ivory skin fits the whole living dead doll aesthetic, and her arcane birth mark and glistening fangs mark her as a deadly Dhampyre! You remember them from your research, but most of the ladies on Mrs. Beakley's best beasties board seemed to think they were a myth. Half human vampires born from a human parent in infinitesimally unlikely conception with a vampyre. They possess none of their weakness, and all of the strength, plus the ability to drain your lifeforce at a distance. You christen her Donna Damp in your head, and wonder woefully if it will hurt to have your slime sucked.

"Aww, looks like the little cum bubble is scared, Donna. Maybe she doesn't like pale girls." The third Donna teases as she too strips and shifts. She swells, her muscles growing thick and knotty and her body bristling with fur, her face disfigured into the fearsome snout of a Devil Dog! Or rather, that's what you notice first, until you spy the brooding brown eyes hiding in her maw and realize she must be a Doppeldanger! They are a special kind of mystik that can send their spirit out of their corporeal cell and into any other creature they have the will to dominate, wearing them like a suit and able to imitate them down to voice and oldest memories. You are starting to suspect that the entrance into this exclusive club might not be limited to first name. Donna Danger is eyeing you hungrily, and you have no hope of outrunning her in her current meat suit.

"Still want to see if we can be friends?" Donna prime purrs as she slips into someone more comfortable. Glistening red scales adorn her body like chain mail as if designed by a horny D & D nerd. Her lithesome legs lead to fearsome clawed boots, her supple yet strong arms sport gleaming, gnarly gauntlets, her breasts are barely bound by a fearsome chest plate with an onyx heart shaped jewel that you suspect is far more than decorative. Your suspicions are confirmed when her human, hellishly hot visage does not shift, but is surrounded by the helm of a horned dragon. Donna spreads her wings and fills the room with torrid terror as she is revealed as a Dragon Born. Mrs. Beakley board broads would never believe it. A race thought extinct, a union of human and dragon that can channel the latter's power while in the form of the former! Donna Drag might be the deadliest of the three.

No wonder they have such a spooky rep. Half humans that shouldn't exist in the first place, rivaling the power of highborn hellions. You know now more than ever that you don't stand a prayer's chance in...well, Hell, but you raise your fists regardless and say, "Well if that's the way it's going to be, then I guess you bitches won't bawl if I fight dirty."

You can't believe something that sounds so brave and badass is coming out of your lips, apparently neither can Donna Damp. She is half way through laughing, "Ha ha haaa! As if a littMMPH!" She didn't expect you to fight as dirty as you do, locking lips with her and spitting a speck of you slime in her then spitting on her face for good measure. She claws out blindly, cutting a painful gash in you, but also slashing Donna Danger in her snout. She turns to stomp on you, when your empathic abilities kick in, sharing the sensation of your wound with her as long as your slime stays inside her. You are almost used to being ripped apart in your humble homegrown efforts at shapeshifting, but apparently it's a first for Donna Damp, as she crumples screaming to the floor.

Donna Danger is on you in seconds, maw bloody and looking to pay you back in kind, slashing and biting and howling horribly. You see no way out but in. You leap into the air and think wet thoughts, going liquid as you slide past Danger's bloody fangs and deep down her gullet, using the momentum of your plunge to speed through her, dragging her intestines with you along the way and slide out her other end, carrying and arm full of guts along the way. She wails in agony, but you are too scared and pumped up to pause to comfort her. She'll heal in time, or get a new skin, but you hope you are far from here when that happens.

Damp is still drained from the shared experience of being cut to pieces and diving through a Donna, so you turn your attention to Drag Queen herself, looking for the smallest flaw in her armor. Seeing none, you decide to attack her strength instead, slipping behind the dizzy dhampyre and pushing her forward so her body takes the blazing fire spewing from the dragoness' mouth. You gamble that she won't go full blaze with her friend in the crossfire, and you don't know if you are right, or if she just doesn't have enough fire power to incinerate you both, but either way, you get an opportunity to slide under Damp's legs, coil tight like a spring, and lunge up at Drag's chin, hoping to clip her at an angle and batter her brain around her skull.

"What the fuUNF!" Drag loses track of her thought as your spinning uppercut sends her splayed back. You turn to Damp, ready to press the advantage, when you feel a hard, scaly hand grab a fistful of your slime and lift you up in the air. You struggle and lash out, trying to slip from her grasp, but apparently one legend of the dragonborne is true, once they get their claws on you, nothing can escape their grip. She pulls you closer, putting your face back in order with her free hand; you suppose so she can see the look on your face when she says,