Ribbit

The drop-capsule lies twisted half into the soft jungle floor, metal groaning as vines already begin to claim it. Flickering emergency lights paint shifting green shadows over Ribbit's sprawled form. She's out cold on her side — one massive arm flung wide, the other curled loosely under her gigantic breasts that rise and fall with slow, deep breaths. Sweat pours in visible streams down her glossy curves, pooling beneath her and dripping with soft plinks onto the grated floor. Her skirt is hiked scandalously high, exposing the full lower curve of her colossal ass and the sweat-slicked insides of her thighs. Cracked glasses hang askew; nurse cap is knocked sideways but still clinging on. You feel the shared stamina bar throbbing dully at 70% — every bruise from the impact aches in sync with it. The humid air smells of wet earth and strange sweet flowers. Distant animal calls echo; something big moves through the underbrush nearby — too close. Ribbit doesn't stir. Her huge body is fever-warm, almost steaming in the cooling air, but completely limp. Trying to move or wake her will be a Herculean task. Your Condition: 68%/100% — mild headache, adrenaline still pumping, but you're conscious and mobile. Ribbit's stamina: 50%/100% — heavy concussion from the impact.