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Read the Fine Print

by feder

Garret had a feeling this job was too good to be true. Princess Starling had approached him with a simple offer: Come to her palace and discuss the lifetime opportunity to be her personal guardian. Now Garret liked being a freelance warrior, but he liked money quite a bit more and thus he found himself being escorted through the castle by a dour-faced valet. The interior of the palace was decorated primarily in white marble and deep Tyrian purple velvet. The throne room itself was made up of purple velvet and dark rose wood.

And there, sitting on the throne with a gracefully casual smile was Her Majesty, Princess Lucrecia Starling XI. She wore a deep blue dress that clung to her hips, accentuating what was already a perfect hourglass figure. Garret was a gentleman, but it didn't keep him from spending more than a few moments fantasizing about shimmying up her long, shapely legs like a squirrel looking for a place to stash pine nuts.

She flipped a lock of long, curly red hair and waved him closer. Garret approached the throne and bowed before her, his brown eyes lingering for just a second on her chest. "I trust you are here to discuss my offer?"

"You are most kind to consider me, your Majesty." Garret said, fretting internally over every word. His time spent around royalty was near-nonexistent, and the idea that any faux pas would spell a night in the dungeon or worse was repeating in his mind. Still, she did seem like a magnanimous sort, if aloof.

"You will be given free room and board in this castle, all your needs will be attended to and you will be very well compensated. However..."

She took a thick stack of parchment and handed it to the warrior. "...We will require you to sign this. It's only for the records, please understand." Garret skimmed the first few pages and put his signature on the line where specified. His handwriting was inelegant and unpracticed but perfectly sufficient, if out of place next to a document with the royal seal stamped on it. He handed it back and the Princess thumbed through the pages, a rather sly smile spreading across her rose-colored lips.

"Very good." She smirked, you may begin..." Her voice paused, taking in Garret's initial excitement with an impish chuckle. "...now". And as she said that, something tightened in Garret's stomach. A thrumming, numb heat shot up from within him. He dropped forward on his hands and knees as his gut tightened and churned, it wasn't comfortable but it didn't hurt. Even when he saw the skin on the back of his hands dry out and crack apart into scales, he felt no pain.

"What is.." he moaned and Princess Starling shushed him like one would a child.

"Just enjoy the ride, warrior." Her voice rang in his ears as the scaly skin flowed up and over him. Every flake of skin that became reptilian scale felt like caterpillars gently crawling over his body, a tingly and ticklish feeling that was soothing in a curious way. He opened his mouth to speak or maybe yell, but all that came out was a low, guttural snarl as his teeth achingly pulled into sharp points. Garret's body felt hot all over and all throughout his insides, a throbbing and pulsing heat like molten iron flowing through his veins.

He scratched at his tunic and leather armor, tearing it off with frightening ease as his fingernails became long, curved claws like the talons of a bird of prey. The scales covering his limbs and back turned a deep violet, starting at the shoulders and flowing down like ink spreading through a pool while the scales on his front turned a bright fish-belly white starting from his chin and going down, down his belly to his crotch. His scaly hide was quickly turning smooth and supple, yet thick and durable like quality leather.

"What is... What did you do to me?!" Garret cried out, and the Princess gently eased his mouth shut as his face pushed outwards into a blunt muzzle.

"Just let it happen, pet. You'll be alright," her voice was gently condescending in a way that made Garret snarl. She was enjoying this, this was some sick game for her, he was sure of it. as his snout grew out, his hair dropped to the floor in clumps. The air felt cool on his scalp as the scales on the top of his head formed out into angular ridges like the horns on a viper. The warrior's ears shrank into his head, leaving only a pair of sensitive holes that took in the sound around him as a pair of long, thin horns jutted out of his now-draconic looking head.

Garret let out another strained growl as he arched his hips up in the air, the claws on his toes digging into the carpet as his joints and the muscles in his legs creaked and re-sculpted themselves to better facilitate walking on the balls of his feet, his toes reaching out longer, becoming more like the claws of some great lizard.

As his body became less human, it also became less male. Garret's hips filling out fuller and softer, reaching prime child-bearing proportions that formed a slight hourglass compared to his lean waist. As a thick, muscular tail forced itself out of the base of his spine, tapering into a sharp, whiplike point; a pair of soft breasts pushed out from his chest, the ridged scales adding a peculiar texture to the perky bosoms. Garret's mind was still reeling and unable to put together the questions he doubtlessly would have asked regarding whether dragons had breasts, but the pair he had answered that question for him as they reached an impressive D cup in mere moments.

As his new breasts bounced and jiggled with every convulsion of his shifting body, he became aware of an intense tingling heat between his legs, followed by a sharp inward pressure. Fearing what this meant, garret reached down with his claws and his fears were confirmed when the digits slipped into a moist, needy slit.

His slit. Or rather, hers,being that her new form was distinctly feminine between the purple color and her new equipment. "No, no no no... this isn't happening! Garret cried out in a voice that was both distinctly feminine and quite bestial. His protests were cut short by a sudden, agonizing pain in his back, two writhing, twitching nubs of appendages that fluttered and flapped as they grew out into leathery wings like those of a bat, with a fleshy membrane stretched over each joint. As they finished growing in, Garret flapped and shook his new wings awkwardly as his body learned how to control them, use them, every confused motion of the powerful wings kicking up little gusts of wind within the throne room.

Garret threw her head back, letting out a roar as a plume of flame flashed forth from her throat. It wasn't a conscious action, but rather something her new body just had to do. The Princess stood up, walking over with a smug grin on her face. Her high heeled shoes clicked softly as she stepped down from the throne. She produced something, a studded leather collar with a shiny brass tag with the name "Greta" engraved on it in block letters.

Starling looped the collar around the dragoness's muscular neck and clasped it firmly shut. Garret wanted to fight back, to make a run for it, but her body held itself in a kneeling position as the princess's gaze locked onto her. "So, Greta, how do you like the new bod? Don't you feel so much stronger? So much more graceful?" The Princess laughed impishly and the former man's yellow reptilian eyes widened as she approached. Princess Lucrecia Starling was a witch! That was the only way this made sense. This was all a trap.

"Why did you do this?" Greta... Garret protested, covering her ample bosoms with her powerful, sculpted arms. She felt exposed, even ashamed in her new form. "This wasn't part of the deal!"

And the Princess just smirked, taking the contract and holding it in front of her. "Yes it it was, you silly beast. You did read it all before signing, didn't you?" Starling turned the contract to the relevant chapter, revealing fine print explaining in detail how turning Garret into a dragoness was indeed part of the wager. She didn't know it was, but there it was in writing. Besides, the Princess had her best interests in mind anyway and...

Gret-Garret stopped herself, where the hell did that thought come from? She surely didn't think that... but then again doubt was entering her mind, her thoughts getting murky like swamp water. Her name was... Greta. That didn't sound right but what was the other name? Gregory? Gareth Gobbulpeasant? While she tried to puzzle this out, Starling had two armed guards clasp a chain around her collar. Then, when her lucidity returned, she found herself being lead down a hallway into what looked to be animal pens, with big iron-walled stalls. One guard opened the stall while the other none-too-gently pushed Greta in.

The interior of the stall was nicer than the dragoness had expected, with thick blankets lining the floors, and a barrel of cheap ale in the corner. Stirring from his resting place off to the other side of the stall was a big black dragon with a slate gray belly, his figure was softened from doing little aside from lounging around, but Greta could tell he still had quite a bit of muscle left. He paced over to her, his claws scuffed from years of walking on the hard stone floors of the palace. When he nuzzled into her chest to take her smell in, Greta felt her heart flutter and she didn't know why. His musk flowed through her nostrils, a complex and heady smell: camp-fires, desert sand, virility. He pulled the baleful dragoness into a gentle embrace and Greta only put up a half-hearted, confused resistance.

And his eyes... they had a warm blue glow to them, Greta felt herself getting lost in them as he spoke to her, his voice deep and gentle. " Name's Tarn, you are?"

Her name... Greta snorted through her slit nostrils as she tried to remember something, there was another name but she just couldn't for the life of her remember what it was. and Tarn gently stroking his claws over her rack wasn't doing much to help her concentration.

"Greta..." She said, that name felt more and more right every moment. He pulled her closer to him, the way he kept sniffing her made her wonder something about how often dragons go into rut.

"That's a pretty name..." the dragon continued to pet and feel her up, and Greta was more than a little ashamed at the realization she was liking the attention. The way his tail wrapped around hers. the way his claws gently traced the contours of her breasts, the way his warm, flexible long tongue tickled her cheeks... it made the dragoness feel pretty, desirable, wanted.

When she felt something press against her thigh and looked down to see Tarn's red shaft at full-mast, she got down on all fours and lifted her tail for him. It wasn't even a conscious decision she made, just something they both needed and knew they needed it.

---

"Come on, you can do it!" The handler coached Greta, helping keep her thick legs spread apart. The dragoness strained and the first egg squeezed out of her onto the soft blanket put down for her. Tarn was laying next to her, letting her hold his clawed hand and the Princess watched with steely calm, a slight smile on her face.

Greta panted, growled and gnashed her teeth as the second egg pressed against her lower lips. Her belly was bulging with her first clutch, eyes tearing up. It hurt, but it wasn't a bad hurt, it was more of an exciting hurt. Tarn and the handler repeated words of encouragement and the dragoness pushed, forcing the second egg out of her, the off-white shell slick and dripping. Every egg she laid was like an orgasm in miniature, sending sunbursts of feeling all throughout her body. She squeezed Tarn's hand, letting out a strained growl as egg number three was forced out of her.

Each egg was roughly the size of a coconut, oval shaped with little greenish speckles on the shell. Greta barely had time to fully parse the fact she was a mother when the fourth egg came out with another surging contraction, another push of her lower muscles.

"Tarn!" Greta growled. "Why did there have to be so many?!" and the male dragon just licked her cheek, offered her more of his hand to squeeze, and whispered little apologies to her.

"Sorry, dear... but you're doing very well for your first clutch... just take a deep breath and push..."

"I feel like I'm gonna..." Greta gasped.

"Push!"

And with a loud, thunderous ROAR that shook the walls. Greta forced the fifth and final egg out of her. The dragoness's eyes grey misty when she saw them, the dragon handler wrapping the eggs together with a spare flannel blanket. She was a mother now, responsible for the first success of Princess Starling's dragon breeding program. Tarn held her tight, nuzzling her neck as they embraced on the floor.

"Are you proud?" The dragon said softly, chuckling a bit as Greta fell exhausted into his embrace.

"Very..."

And the dragoness indeed had a lot to be proud of, she was a mother, a guardian of the royal family, and had a loving mate. If there had been any downside to the agreement, any catch or trick in the fine print, then she couldn't remember what it was nor cared what it was. As Greta fell asleep in Tarn's arms right next to her darling eggs, she felt at peace with the world and with herself. What more could a dragon ask for?