Wyvern Wile
The Speaker of the Harried Halls was dead. Laurent stepped over the creature's corpse--a flayed, tentacle mess spread around the remnants of a ripped robe--and let out a well earned sigh of relief. He had done it, and now another portion of the Fortress of Minds was freed from fiendish control. He sheathed his sword and walked silently down the last stretch of the great pillars of the Harried Halls, his mind filled with curiosity with what he would find next. Would it be some tricky trader that could help him as much as he could harm him or would it be solemn spring, a welcome respite from the trials of this tainted place that could just as easily be a treacherous trap. He had read much of the Fortress of Minds before coming here, and so he thought he knew what he might expect despite the place's tendency to shift and reshape.
Laurent's thoughts were interrupted when he heard something rumble. He looked left and found one of the Hall's large pillars had a spiderweb of cracks running through it, cracks that only grew larger by the second. In the next moment he heard something groan, and then there was a great thud as the floor shook as something fell behind him. He looked over his shoulder. Rhe pillar he had already passed were in a greater state of decay than the ones closest to him and they were falling now, which only meant--
The warrior ran as more and more of the pillars fell. The great vibrations that followed them sent him stumbling, but he managed to keep his footing on the black marble floors. He sprinted like he had practiced many times before just in case something like this happened. It was not uncommon for a fiend to find some way to lash out after having been slain, and being quick and agile seemed to be the best way to avoid such posthumous pugnacity. This was actually the fourth time such an event had happened.
With his combination of experience and swiftness, Laurent was able to avoid the crumbling pillars even as the hall seemed to stretch on forever as pillars fell faster and faster while their actual size grew larger and larger. Finally, he saw the end in sight, an opening illuminated by flickering orange. Using the bit of good breath and speed he had inside, he sprinted past the last few pillars and only barely made it. His strength gave out near the edge of his opening, but he was safe even if the last pillar did come crashing down right behind him. He staggered forward and fell to his hands and knees, sweating and gasping for breath. For a few moments he took time to just breathe; then, he got to his feet and turned towards the Halls.
The Harried Halls were no more. Its mighty pillars had fallen and the last to crumble had sealed the way off. He only had one choice now--continue forward.
So, Laurent turned towards the opening and found it led into a circular balcony made of some harsh, black stone. He panted and rubbed at his sweat-stained forehead, still feeling hot despite his time he spent cooling off. He stepped forward onto the balcony and felt hotter still and he soon found out why. Below the balcony and extending out so very far was a sea of lava that boiled and hissed. Through the lava weaved a trail of blackened rock that led to an ebony ladder up to a dark cliff. He blinked, uncertainty reigning as he wondered how he was supposed to cross the molten magma to reach the ladder.
In the next moment, uncertainty drifted away as he crouched down and procured a pouch. Though it was a small sack, he withdrew many items from it: a coral encrusted key he had found in Sea of Misery after slaying the Mer Matriarch, a dagger of bone he had dug up in the Gruesome Graveyard, and a small leather case filled with vials whose contents shimmered or bubbled or both. He had other items besides that too, other trophies he had taken from the adversaries of the Fortress of Minds and yet there was no need to need to take them out. He had really only meant to withdraw the potions he had bought from a tricky trader, but the other items had come out anyways because it was difficult to work with unseen extradimensional space.
As Laurent looked over his withdrawals, he frowned. He had gotten some sort of keepsake from each area of the Fortress, a piece of a puzzle he had yet to truly comprehend. Yet, there was nothing from the Harried Halls.
He looked back at the pillars and wondered if he had missed something and so he had. The last great pillar had split in half when it fell and in its debris something sparkled. He left his bag and trophies and walked over to the spot. He stooped, reached for the sparkling object, and soon found it in his grasp. He withdrew it from the debris and held it up to the lava's illumination.
In his hands was a warm rounded container with a glimmering, fiery liquid inside whose hue shifted from the hottest of blue fires to the warmest of whites. On it was a label that simply read, "FOR HEAT."
He smiled at this and walked over to where he had lain his trophies. He placed the coral key away but left the potions case out while he thought how fortunate he was. The reward for clearing the Harried Halls was direct help for dealing with the sea, something that didn't happen too often. In fact, he hadn't found a use for the majority of his trophies, but he knew he would, he always did. The Fortress might seem like chaos at times, but there was order in its madness.
He placed his new potion next to its smaller kin and thought of what to do. It was obvious he should drink the fiery one, but there was much more to consider. Were there creatures lurking beneath the lava? How long would his new potion last? Could he spare another draught to restore his stamina?
Trying to remember what the trader had told him about each potion, Laurent withdrew a multitude of the vials. First, he selected a bitter, black brew that would renew his energy. Next, a tonic that would toughen his skin. Lastly, he withdrew an elixir of extension of wyvern extract and a draft he thought that might have something to do with amplification. Of this he couldn't really be sure, but then again he wasn't completely certain about the others either. The trader had told him their uses quick before promptly vanishing. It was the best he could do, however, and now all he had to do was mix them.
He withdrew one last object from his bag, a large, smooth stone bowl he had recovered from a shattered ship he had come across in the Driven Desert. It was quite useful in purifying water and amplifying the effects of whatever he mixed in there. He placed the potions in front of the bowl and considered what order he should mix in them or whether it mattered in the first place. He shrugged, for he was no master mixologist. He started with the fiery potion, figuring the bulk of the stuff should be poured first. The black draught was next, then the tonic, followed by the draft, and finally the elixir of extension. The liquids hardly reacted as he mixed them in, and for that he was grateful. He wasn't sure if it was the bowl's magic or his own luck, but nothing exploded, instead combining into a red and gold concoction that sparkled and sparked. Lastly, he took the bone knife and used it to the stir. After a bit, the mixture had taken on a darker hue and he felt heat rise from the bowl. He returned the knife to the bag, picked up the bowl and carefully placed an edge towards his lips. Grimacing in anticipation of whatever awful flavor the mixture might have, he tipped the bowl up and had his first taste.
It was as foul tasting as he had feared, being sweet, bitter and spicy all the same. He gagged, but continued drinking, gulping and gulping until he had drank it all. He gagged again but it kept it done with one last swallow. Afterwards, he placed the rest of his procured possessions back into the bag and waited for the mixture to take effect.
A few minutes passed and Laurent began to feel impatient, for he was sweating all the while. In his impatience he walked towards the edge of the ebony balcony and saw a ladder to climb down towards the start of the dark path. He couldn't go just yet, however, not until he was sure of the potion's effects.
In the next seconds, Laurent began to feel its effects and they were impossible to ignore. His mind suddenly blazed alight and so his thoughts raced. He no longer sweat from the outside for the heat was inside and rushing down to the rest of his body. He shuddered as the fire touched his limbs, reigniting their strength. Without thinking, he reached down and began to climb down the ladder, giving each step down a rung no more than half a second before he was moving down to the next one. The heat reached his heart and for a moment he had to pause for it felt like it might burst. Then it beat stronger, sending infused blood to his lungs and limbs. The weight of his light leather armor was now nothing and the heat from the lava below hardly fazed him. By the time his mind had caught up, he was already at the bottom, the length of the large ladder traveled in less than a minute. He looked up to the height he had just climbed down one and smiled. He felt so alive.
Chuckling at his luck--or had he really gotten better at mixing?--he took his first steps onto the stone and that's where the problems began. As left his boot touched down upon the black stone, his foot wrenched. He stumbled and fell on his hands and knees uncomfortably close to the right edge of the path. Though he felt no heat from the lava, he wasn't sure what would happen if he fell in. He tilted his head down between his arms to see what was the matter with his left leg. Everything seemed the same, but there was still a lingering discomfort. He shrugged, returning his gaze forward. He was about to push off with his ungloved hands when he saw that they, unlike his foot, did not seem normal. In fact, they were pockmarked with red spots. He lifted them, looked closer and saw that the spots were scales, scarlet spots that seemed to spread.
Toughen, he thought, getting to his feet. It seemed the mixture's other effects were manifesting more visibly than he thought they might. He sighed, hardly paying attention to his hands even as scales subsumed skin. He still had a ways to go, and those scales wouldn't last forever anyways, just like his immunity to heat.
At the thought of that word, said heat resurfaced, reenergizing his limbs. He stepped forward and both his feet bothered this time. He continued onwards anyways, glad to have some momentum rather than none. His next steps were staggered, unbalanced, and nearly caused him to lose his balance again. He stumbled to the side of the path and came closer, so much closer, to falling in again. He snarled in annoyance and crouched low, half-crawling, half shuffling to the middle of the path. Here he plopped down.
Laurent wiggled his toes within his boots and winced at the tightness of their confinement. He leaned forward, his scaled hands shaking with frenetic energy as he loosened the laces of his boots. Just that little bit of effort brought some relief, though it was soon countered as pinching pinpricks sprouted upon his soles. Frowning, he loosened the laces further before shifting his efforts to the other boot. He had to remove them if he was to make further progress.
Something splashed out of the lava behind him. He turned, finding nothing more than a trail of lazy ripples that barely disturbed the fiery sea. He placed his hand on his sword and kept his eyes on the ripples, but he was looking the wrong way. There was another splash. He felt flecks of lava shower on his exposed neck. He winced, but the lava only burned his armor, not his skin. Instead, scarlet scales arose to under the lava-splattered skin, greedy growths that sapped the heat from the molten droplets. When he heard something hiss behind him, he looked over his shoulder and found himself face to face with a draconic creature, one only slightly larger than him. It had scales of bronze, a long neck, a snout made jagged by its many teeth, and green reptilian eyes that regarded him with an expression he couldn't quite decipher. At the moment, the upper half of its body lay across the width of the path behind him. In place of its arms were a pair of wings that dripped the lava it had just left and whose cruel claws chipped at the path's black stone.
Laurent snarled at the sight of the creature and reached for his sword. Just as his hand found his weapon's hilt, the wyvern hissed again and flapped its wingarms. The warrior yelped, raising an arm to ward off the spray, but some of the stuff still got onto his face. He blinked away the steaming lava as even more scales sprouted upon his face.
Drawing his sword, Laurent took a swung at the creature just as it retreated into the lava. His sword clanged uselessly against the ground and he almost dropped it because of the vibrations that traveled up his arms. He snarled again, bringing his other hand to clutch at the sword so both his scaled hands held the weapon firmly. He focused on the spot of lava the wyvern had just slipped into, until he remembered what had happened the last time he did that. Thus, he glanced about, the lava's slow flow making any guess of the creature's path difficult.
The wyvern suddenly burst from his right side while he looked to the left. He turned and struck at the creature, but it snapped forward, catching the blade with those powerful jaws. Before he knew what was happening, he was jerked to the side. He cried out, one hand leaving the sword's handle as he fell roughly on his side. He groaned as the wyvern pulled at his sword, dragging him closer to the lava. He tugged back, but one of his reinvigorated limbs was not enough to combat the wyvern's strength. Still, he continued trying, not willing to release the weapon he had used to strike down so many monsters already. His futile efforts were put to rest as the wyvern suddenly pulled down hard and sunk its head beneath the lava's surface. He gasped as his sword and arm went down without it; thinking quickly, but not quickly enough, he let go of the sword when his arm had submerged up to his elbow into the lava. He felt no pain, only warmth, and yet he still withdrew his hand from the lava. When he saw his armor it was different. His leather sleeves had burnt away and the scales had totally covered his arms in shimmering scarlet scales. He flexed his fingers and found that they were shorter, their lost length made up by the silvery claws they now possessed. His arm shivered, for he felt more of the scales climbing up that armor, biting at his flesh as they made their way to his shoulder.
He heard a hiss and turned to find the wyvern had swam to the other side of the path. Its maw was empty, his sword nowhere to be found. He looked into its eyes once again, recognizing now what they held; a certain kind of cunning such as was found in a cat toying with its prey. He smiled back at it, because he was no easy prey.
Staring at the wyvern, he withdrew his pouch and stuck his clawed hand into, or tried to. Instead, he yelped in pain as the bag rejected his attempts. He looked down at the bag. He switched to his less changed hand and was met with the same results. The bag did have protection against pilfering, but it was him reaching into his bag. Even if his hands were different, it was still him!
To his side the wyvern hissed and lunged forward. He cried out as he felt its jaws clamp on his left boot. He fell hard onto his back and then the draconic creature was pulling him just as it had pulled his sword moments ago. Dropping his bag, Laurent undid the laces of his boot while kicking at the creature with his other foot. He wasn't sure what, but something gave as the wyvern snarled and slipped away with his boot, but at least not him himself. Scooting back on his but, he attempted to get to his feet but had much difficulty doing so. He found his uncovered left foot had twisted similarly like his right hand, its configuration now digitigrade and his toes now mostly made up of curved claws. On his disproportionate feet he hobbled towards his dropped bag. Upon reaching it, he stooped down just as the wyvern reappeared.
Expecting the creature to try to snatch his bag or him away again, he quickly withdrew. Hearing what sounded like a snort of amusement, Laurent shouted as it opened its jaws and a large jet of flame spurted out directed at him. The fire caught him in the chest. Immediately his nostrils were filled with the terrible smell of not cooking flesh, but burning leather. He looked down, gagging with disgust as large chunks of his armor sloughed away in ashen chunks along with charred fragments of his undershirt. The flesh beneath was not completely untouched either, for golden scales sprouted where the fire had touched him and a little beyond that too. He stumbled back, brushing away still burning sections of his chest covering until his eyes fell upon his bag. It too was burning!
"No!" he yelled and dove for the bag. He landed with his chest atop it. He quickly lifted his scale covered chest to snatch it from under. He cupped the burning bag in his hands, gritting his teeth as his left hand shifted to resist the heat so that it now resembled its counterpart. He stared at the bag, heedless of the wyvern as it dove under the lava once again, and wondered what he could do as the flames engulfing the sack grew. Knowing there might be something inside the bag that could help, he tried to reach inside the bag again.
At the exact moment he attempted to procure something, the bag had already been damaged too thoroughly. His clawed hand was once again denied entry and then the bag exploded.
Laurent screamed as a wide gust of wind swept from the bag, sweeping him bodily up into the air. Following the wind was a great clatter and crash as several dozen objects of various shapes and size burst from the dimension the ruptured bag had held. They flung this way in seemingly random directions, most of them finding a new home in the fiery sea. The airborne warrior flailed his futilely in the air, but there was nowhere he was going but down.
Laurent was silenced as he splashed into the lava. As he sank he discovered it wasn't lava exactly. It was neither as dense, more of a liquid than molten metal, but still just as hot though the scales sprouting all over his body kept him from burning away. He opened his eyes but kept his mouth sealed shut even as the hot liquid tickled at his nostrils. He could barely see in the red-orange liquid, only able to make out the endless expanse of fiery orange. He began to make attempts at swimming until he realized he had no idea which way was up.
Panic overtook the warrior and he began to swim towards what he thought was up, and as he moved he altered further. The sizzling liquid ate away at his clothes so that in mere moments he was swimming totally in the nude. His hair too burned away, leaving his body totally bald and ripe for the expansion of the scales. The scales spread quickly, subsuming what skin remained with each movement. With each kick his legs altered too, lengthening and thinning to equivalent proportions so that right matched left in claws and preferred stance too. When he inadvertently sniffed while swimming in the fiery sea, his nose wiggled, shrinking away and leaving two mere slits behind. His ears soon matched their fate, flattening into scaled featurelessness so that only two small nearly invisible holes for hearing remained.
Finally, he couldn't hold it any longer. He opened his mouth and actually breathed. The liquid fire slid into his throat and the potion's effect insured he was adjusted inside too, organs shifting and growing to support him in this alien ecosystem. While his face began to push out into a draconic muzzle, his tongue flicked out, lengthening, thinning, and finally forking out at the end. He blinked in surprise, momentarily stopping his swim, for he could almost smell with that tongue beneath the water and there was something certainly close by. He swung his head to the size and saw not only the protrusion of his muzzle in his view, but something lurking below him, a bronze shape that stood out amongst the orange. He hissed in surprise, teeth gnashing together as they sharpened into jagged shape. Sight of the creature brought something else other than surprise too--a rush of heat and energy that was squarely directed at his crotch.
Laurent shivered as lust overcame him, an odd sensation for a time of danger. He growled in annoyance as he felt his member stiffen, the flow of the fiery sea feeling very strange against his hardened manhood. It almost felt confined somehow, restrained and tight yet that couldn't be right. He snorted through his snout, tongue tasting the sea once again as a small but prominent horn grow at the tip of his muzzle.
There was that same scent again. It got him excited and even more aroused but that wasn't right either. He wasn't particularly attracted to reptilian or danger, so what was going on? His mind was muddled, confused, and the growth of three small spines upon his head, one lower than other, didn't help. He pushed against the clouding lust and the sea at the same time. Finally burst to the top of the sea.
Lava sprayed as he surfaced and for a moment he stayed at the surface. He tread the water and took a deep breath, the lack of that distinctive scent allowing him to think a little, if only a little. He blinked the last bits of liquid fire from his eyes as his pupils shifted into slits and his iris darkened to a deep blue. He took another deep breath and gasped as his neck suddenly squeezed, leaving him choking for air as his neck extended, thinning into slender shape. From his new vantage point he found he could breath again and so he did. He also now had the presence of mind to search for the path he had fallen off, a path he might walk on to prevent further changes that what had already been wrought by the potion. He just hoped it would revert after a few hours and not days.
He caught sight of the path close by and started to swim towards it. He found it more difficult to swim as he had before, for a thin membrane had begun to grow from under his arms with each stroke. Worse, every finger but his former pinkie on each hand became overgrown with the same membrane, claws shrinking away and rendering them useless for grasping or grabbing. To compensate, his last remaining claws on each hand grew larger and thicker but it was poor compensation nonetheless as more of the membrane grew out.
With a start, Laurent realize he was growing wings, and why? He had never intended to fly, he only meant to resist the heat, but the heat only seemed to be building up though at least it was on the inside even if that wasn't much better. His now wing arms fought with him every step of the way towards the path and so he sometimes came to flounder helplessly in the fiery sea. He hissed and splashed, squirming as the sea seemed to caress him. Another burst of heat permeated his form, and he swore his member felt all the more sensitive for it. It throbbed, stiff and sore but he had to ignore it, he had to make it to the path--and what? When he reached the ladder and the next portion of the Fortress of Minds, what would he do next? Even after his altered form reverted, he would be bereft of his equipment and armor, nothing more than a naked man.
Naked. For some reason this word appealed to Laurent more than he thought it should. He treaded in the fiery sea, shivering as he thought of naked things, bawdy barwoman, paid prostitutes, and a wily wyvern with a rose between its teeth, laid out and spread so that its slit could be seen but it was then anyone's guess what--
Laurent snorted and started to swing forward again, succeeding in pushing forward while also pushing away that strange thought. As he swam, it felt as if the sea was caressing him, soothing him as it softened his form. It lapped at his waist and hips, drawing his hips out while pushing his waist in. His winged arms began slimmer and even more delicate while his legs lengthened, thickening thighs sometimes brushing against his stiff member. This elicited a hiss and gasp. As his shoulders softened and the sea's soft strokes seemed to round out his rear, his spine pained momentarily before a point poked out.
The changing warrior hissed and came to a stop, not too far away from the path now. In the water he rolled over on his back and made it a point to ignore the tip of his member peeking out of the sea while something else peeked out further and further still. He hissed at what he recognized his tail, a thick protrusion that grew longer while his hips broadened slightly to fit the proportions of round, tight scaly behind. A moment later, he felt something beneath the fiery sea poke at his rear, eliciting a squeak from Laurent. He dipped his head below the surface, his tongue instinctively slipping out. It smelled something that brought a rush of heat and panic to him.
Hissing, Laurent rolled back on his front and resumed his swimming towards the path at a faster speed, his still growing tail facilitating the process. He felt another poke at his rear and his manhood throbbed, pulling in even tighter against his body as it began to leak precum. This seemed to only to encourage his pursuer. This time the poke was directed at his masculinity. He shrieked, flapping his wings in a panic as his member and testicles pulled as tight as they could before beginning to dwindle. Worse, his mind was having much more difficulty resisting the rush of lust though it was still dead set on the path.
Fortunately for the Laurent, he made it to the edge of the path before his pursuer could render another probing poke. Remembering seeing how the wyvern had done so, he placed his wing arms upon the side and hauled himself up in a manner much less graceful than the wyvern. He rolled onto the path up on his stomach, his smaller, sensitive member pressing into the ground. He quickly pushed himself up on his knees and looked down at his manhood. His testicles were smaller but swollen and his cock was small yet as stiff as ever. He tried to look away, to push his mind away from thoughts of lust but his mind was fixated on that image of the wyvern earlier, of that romantic rose and its sexy spread. In his mind, he reached for the wyvern's slit while in reality he reached for his erect cock. In his mind, he touched the slit and squealed happily as a reptilian member peeked out. In reality, his claws brushed against his cock and that was enough to set him off.
There was a mixture of pleasure and pain as his member jerked and throbbed before he came in a lewd spill of seed. Laurent shrieked a hiss of pleasure and fell back on his elbows as his seed gushed out and out until he simply had none left. Even then his member throbbed and twitched, spilling slightly even as it and his testicles shrank. Mind overcome by lust, he reached for his member, but the alignment of his joints and existence of only one claw made touching the shrinking shaft difficult. Still he tried, hissing and groaning at the impossible task that became more impossible by the second as his testicle withdrew completely, though his shrunken shaft remained behind as a swollen, nubby clit nestled at the top of a forming slit. He shivered as he became a she, her femininity forming between her legs with a wet gush of her first female orgasm as her thick, swollen lips formed, already wet, needy, and ready for sex. She quivered as her inner passage began to build, its formation followed by growth upon her chest. Two orbs swelled out on her chest, small at first but becoming more noticeable by the second. Surrounded by scales, her nipples thickened, pushing the scale slightly aside as they became puffier and all the more sensitive. Laurent whimpered and moaned as she dug needily at her slit with both claws, but she just couldn't reach it. She leaned forward, letting her chest fall flat and squashing her burgeoning breasts while she clawed above her crotch. Her maw hung open and her tongue flicked out as she craned her slender neck to look towards her womanhood.
She wasn't thinking so much about her slit, however, as much as she was thinking about the wyvern in her mind. Though there was something else that pressed at her thoughts some silly need to reach a ladder--why not just fly?--the imagined wyvern and his just revealed cock was more important. She hissed and shivered as her passage tunnelled to completion, opening into a fertile womb and giving justification for her wide, eggbearing hips. She wiggled those hips and tail as she imagined that wyvern's cock inside her, even as she imagined licking at it in her mind while in reality her tongue coiled and twisted around a stiff, sensitive nipple.
Another flush of heat ran through her. Her scaled thighs were now wet with arousal, the claws of her hindlegs digging into the ground. Her breasts finally stopped growing at a large size, large enough to hold enough milk to feed many hungry wyvernlings...
She shivered and reached for her slit again, but she still couldn't reach it. She squawked in frustration and felt fire rise in her throat, though it soon dwindled down. She was already hot enough. In desperation she sat up and lowered her slender neck down, pathetically plying at her breasts with her singular claws while her long, forked tongue flicked towards her slit with much less successful. She hissed and then something else hissed.
She froze and her tongue flicked out, catching the scent of something that brought fading fear and additional arousal. She turned her head. There was the wyvern with scales of bronze rise out of the water and crawl upon the black stone. He was larger than her, a full wyvern unlike her who had retained vestiges of humanity in her newfound form. She kept her gaze squarely on him as she leaned back onto her wingarms and lifted her rounded rear along with her tail in supplication. That scent told her more alone than sight did--the wyvern was male, a young, virile one at that and she was female, a female in heat.
The male's tongue flicked out. Confusion showed momentarily in his eyes. Then that jagged jaw shifted into a smile as he advanced upon her, reptilian member poking out from his hindquarters. She hissed in encouragement and wiggled her rear enticingly.
In the next moment, the male mounted her, clambering on and hugging her tight with his wings. His large form strained her momentarily, but her body had been built for this, to allow a strong, large mate to breed her so she could mother his children.
She turned her head forward as he licked at her slender neck. It was then that she saw the ladder that lay so close front of her. She froze as something rose up within her mind. Something compelled her to move forward, up and away from the wyvern but that made no sense. He was a male and she was a female and what they meant to do was natural and instinctual. There was nothing more to it. She didn't see how some contraption should get in the way of pleasurable mating.
She shivered and shrieked for the next few moments were very pleasurable as he plunged into her. She squealed at the penetration, pleased at the relief and the pleasure it brought. She wiggled and pressed her hips back, lowering her chest so her scaled breasts could rub against the ground. He seemed to be enjoying it too, going so far as to snake forward and bite tenderly into her slender neck. She huffed at the additional stimulation, a mixture of pleasure and pain, hissing and licking at his snout while he maintained his bite. He pressed in further and she shuddered, her wanton walls clamping down desperately upon his cock. She dug her claws into the rock so she wouldn't move as much. She was rewarded for her efforts with further pleasure as he pressed further in. They groaned and he released her and then she too hissed. The end was nearly upon them.
The male suddenly shuddered and she felt him go stiff inside her. With a roar he climaxed, breathing a great gout of fire behind her snout as his seed spilled into her womb. In the next moment she too roared, her cry joining his along with her own breath of flame. As she was filled so completely and utterly, so was her mind overwhelmed by the lust of it all. She collapsed against the ground in throes of aftermath as he pulled out his softening member, giving her an appreciative lick as he pulled away. She lay there, her mind filled with thoughts of an egg-filled future, of future feedings, and the prospect of future matings--though that could all happen before the first two, of course. She licked her snout and horn in anticipation, her heat fulfilled for now.
As she curled up against the ground, her gaze caught sight of the ladder. She sat up for a moment and stared at it, that same draw pulling at her. She nearly moved, but she froze as her human mind piece together once more. Her reptilian eyes flickered as she looked over her form and what she had just done She had just mated and...it had been wonderful. She panted, a portion of the heat already returning while her mind desperately tried to think of why. This couldn't last forever unless...
She shivered as the male brushed against her. She knew the elixir of extension had contained wyvern extract, but she had never question what sort of extract that meant. She looked back at her sex. Now she knew. If she kept mating, breeding, rutting like an animal then...
Then there might be more than extension, there could be permanency especially in the case of pregnancy.
She blinked as her mate licked at her lovingly before laying down beside her. He gave her another loving lick and crowed happily. In uncertainty she thought while the male snuggled closer and closer. She looked over to him, considering.
Then she responded with a lick of her own and scooted closer to him, content with her new place in the Fortress of Minds.