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Trisha didn't see herself as the type to take such a huge risk, and that was exactly why she had to.

She never would have called herself predictable, but if it were possible to become bored with yourself, she was certainly on the verge of it. Fresh out of college and having taken as few risks as possible to make her way through, Trisha now looked back at her years of studious work with a hint of regret; a steady job and a comforting home were far less exciting than the world that she expected to be a part of when she was growing up, and the drinks she had on the weekends were so few and far between, she'd nearly forgotten the taste of light beer.

Trisha never did any drugs in her time in the dorms, which made the syringe in her fingertips all the more daunting.

"Doesn't have to hit a vein. Anywhere in the flesh will do," she repeated the instructions that were given to her. It wasn't an overly squeamish nature, but disbelief that was keeping Trisha from striking the tip of the needle into her skin, but she'd been friends with Bianca for a very long time, and to that point, Trisha had never been betrayed by her demure confidant.

Of course, Trisha was left to wonder just where Bianca was able to get her paws on such a strange item, and the fact that the black fluid in the syringe swirled around of its own volition left Trisha that much more hesitant to put it into her body. She knew that she could trust anything she was given by the tiny mouse, but when she asked just what would happen when she used it, Bianca did what she always did.

She ducked the question as expertly as she could, and just implied that Trisha would have a wonderful time.

"And I didn't have nearly enough of those when I was in school," she continued the thought, as if she was still chatting with Bianca. "If this stuff is really the key to having an exciting time, then it's...w-worth it."

Experimenting with the unknown was enough to make anyone hesitant, and the usually safe and timid Trisha couldn't pry her eyes away from the tip of the needle as she pressed it into the base of her wrist, just below the heel. She didn't feel much more than a ticklish sting under her flesh, and without so much as a push on the hammer, she could recognize the feeling of a foreign substance under her epidermis.

Trembling fingers pulled the syringe back, and Trisha set it on the nightstand, right next to her bed. Her digits wouldn't stop shaking, and at first, she figured it to be nothing more than her reaction to getting a shot.

A streak of black substance, spreading down the length of her forearm and stretching toward her elbow provided an alternate explanation.

"I really need to start demanding answers from that little minx," Trisha claimed, watching with dry lips as the discoloration of her skin moved up into the palm of her left hand. All of her digits filled with darkness as she stretched them and gazed across them, and the display was enchanting enough to keep her distracted from any real panic, for a time.

The sensation of latex crawling across her bare breasts was a far greater sense of stimulation, and though she appreciated Bianca's advice to remain naked so she could see the immediate effect of the chemical, she certainly didn't enjoy the sight of black discoloration spreading across the smooth, tender flesh of her bosom, turning her cleavage from a sensual divide of peaches and cream to a dark, unremarkable cavern.

"They're shrinking ," she noticed, and it was so stark a reaction that she couldn't help crying it out loud. "W...What the fuck, Bianca?!"

There was a darkness hiding behind the kindly grin that Bianca always wore, and though Trisha was sure that she'd seen it lingering around a few times before, she never felt she had a reason to distrust her friend.

She'd already come to regret that fact, and fear was spreading over her nerves just as quickly as smooth, inescapable darkness was covering up her flesh with a texture that was even smoother than the already silky skin that she'd been blessed with.

Ridges formed between her fingers, creating unnatural divides that begged her to stroke an open palm against her arm. As her breasts disappeared twice; once under the weight of the substance, and again by flattening out entirely, she couldn't deny the growing and morbid curiosity.

"It's...l-like a weight bench?" she tried to draw a comparison, as slender fingertips brushed down over the stiffening flesh that was once soft and delicate breasts. "No, it's so much smoother than that. Like rubber, or e-even latex!"

It was satisfying to feel just how easily her open palms could glide over the rest of her changing body, but as she moved them along her torso, they acted like paintbrushes, dragging long and streaky trails of darkness along her barren tummy. The color stuck to her skin and continued to spread downward, and where she lost all of the fatty tissue in her chest, her normally slim and narrow stomach began to bulge outward.

Rounded and smooth, much like the outer edge of a balloon, Trisha continued to watch her stomach expand, and she had a moment of wonder, considering that perhaps she really was just being filled with air. A quick slap upon her suddenly rotund belly revealed that it was impressively solid , and she looked down at her own arm with a curious sense of confusion; she didn't think she could hit herself that hard, but under the cover of the black material, her arms were growing bigger, and she could feel her shoulders spreading wider.

Fear continued to run through her body and paralyze her motions, but a new voice was bubbling to life in the back of her mind.

Stop being such a coward. That's beneath someone like _ you _.

She couldn't have guessed where the voice came from, but it was domineering, and she would have thought it to be her own, but it was gruff and thick, like smoke oozing from the depths of a swamp.

It would have been the perfect voice for someone who controlled the fate of those around them, and if Trisha were still herself, she would have bent to the voice without even the briefest hesitation.

"You're right. You're a-absolutely right," she spoke, and though she tripped over her words, she could feel the fear draining out of her voice, drowning in the tumultuous sea of strength that was building up inside of her. "That kind of weakness isn't the person I am, is it? Was I really that timid...that pathetic?"

Already, her tiny, squeaky voice was growing deep and powerful, as though she meant to mimic the one that she heard in her head. It would have been too deep to be that of a female, and that would make plenty of sense only moments later, as the black fluid continued to work of its own accord, spreading down rapidly over her legs like a second skin.

Long, thin fingers were no more: Her digits had become thick, and from the ends of her once manicured nails, deadly claws were springing into life with a dazzling shimmer.

She gazed upon them with wicked delight, and a grin that couldn't possibly fit in a human mouth began to spread over her lips. The material forced her face to accommodate the change as her curled flesh spread up and over her cheeks, and her nose began to grow outward, her natural flesh being tugged along by the strange material that she'd added to her own genetic makeup.

Her eyes gazed out over the muzzle that continued to emerge from her façade, and it created the perfect visual block, making it nigh impossible for Trisha to gaze down between her legs and see that her womanhood was engulfed in darkness in one moment, and then utterly replaced in the next.

"Feels like I'm on fire down there," she commented, no longer so bashful that she needed to worry about the words that escaped from her maw. "Now why on earth would that be the case?"

Feeling impassioned, but not properly aroused, Trisha allowed one hand, now more like a paw, to glide down over the pubic mound that once held a very slim and tender pair of folds. The flesh there was still thinner than anywhere else on her body, but she could feel a growth that seemed to emerge right where her cute, tiny clit once was, and her palm pressing down against it revealed that it was dearly sensitive, but growing beyond her ability to control.

Rather than be overwhelmed with fear or remorse at the loss of her original sexuality, Trisha felt fangs poking down against the edges of her lips. The tiniest breath escaped her muzzle, and there was a dark texture to it, as if smoke were emerging from the top of a chimney.

As ridges began to form on the topside of her growing, lengthening cock, and horns of a similar chitin poked through the changing flesh on her forehead, Trisha began to gather the full reality of what she was becoming, and knew that there wasn't much left before she could call herself something that so many other people had fantasized over in their lives.

She didn't think it was even remotely possible, but as bubbling flesh at the base of her tailbone suddenly erupted and tore a hole in the covers of her bed, the truth became undeniable. Around a new extension of her skeleton, flesh began to form, and ridges similar to the ones on her cock began popping up through the flesh upon her back as darkness encompassed the whole of her body.

The last parts of her flesh that had a chance to breath fresh air were extensions of her shoulder blades that left her hunched over in pain, and with a cry, Trisha gripped the growing horns from her forehead with massive, deadly paws. Shoulder blades turned fluid, and then, with a violent burst, they emerged from her skin in a strange, new growth, quickly covering over with the black material. Like a new layer of flesh, the thick, oozing darkness dripped down over the membrane that was born of Trisha's shredded back, and she fell down to her elbows and knees, hunched over on the floor of her bedroom with a pain that continued to subside.

Her breathing was ragged, her flesh was still hardening, and scales were just starting to take shape across her overcoat as comforting, emerald irises became an incendiary shade of red...

**

It was difficult to make a proper splash in a leather bar. Places where people were expected to look and act a little different than the public norm made it a true test of being who you really were, and for so many, the sexual liberation and acceptance of such an establishment allowed people to be a character, or put on a mask for the evening.

"Trent" figured that his best move would be to wear a simple pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, and as forward as he was in his need for them, he was given the clothing for free, so long as he was quick to leave the store; he didn't have any clothes at home that would have fit him, and though he wouldn't admit it, he was still learning to adjust to the struggle of buying something that would fit around the base of his wings.

Such a simple outfit likely wasn't the real reason that so many people were ogling him, but Trent wasn't about to complain about the attention. "The Leather Strap" was a bar that he never would have gone into in previous years of his life, or even earlier in the day, but that evening, he was full of confidence, and doing whatever it was that the new voice in the back of his mind told him to do.

Too easy...trying too hard...not your type...ooh! There we go. That one. He's just looking to get dicked down.

"He...he is?" Trent asked himself, as if he wasn't quite sure of his own intentions, just yet. He was still learning to trust the new train of thought he'd gained, but with each step he took, that thought process mingled further with the one he was used to, and slowly, they were becoming very difficult to distinguish.

Just look at him...submissive even in the way he dresses. You could give him a black eye with your cock and he'd probably ask for another one.

Trent wasn't sure what kind of line to open with. Even a few hours before, he never would have found the courage to hit on someone at a public bar, but this time around, he was brimming with such confidence that it created a magnetic aura around him.

Struggling to keep his wings contained to his back as he closed the gap, Trent walked right up to the timid looking boy, dropped his elbow on the bar next to him, and narrowed his glowing, scarlet eyes upon his target.

"Someone's thirsty...but I don't think that drink is gonna do the trick for you, is it?"

Blonde, styled follicles shook as the young man looked up from his drink, and gulped down nothing more than his own nerves.

Eyes of calm hazel were spread wide at the sight of a dragon that stretched his rather simple clothing to the limits of what it could handle. His long, grinning muzzle, swishing tail, and wide, membranous wings were all sights to behold on their own, but the complete package was standing right there before him, like a legend brought to life.

I thought these types only hung out down at The Occult, the leather-clad boy wondered, and his eyes shared that sense of fascination as he looked up silently at Trent.

"It...it never does," he stammered out, and his small, trembling hand spilled a few tiny drops of his drink down along the front of the slick, leather overalls that he'd picked as an outfit for the night.

Working purely on instinct, and the voice that now ruled his every thought, Trent unzipped his jeans with one massive set of claws, and gripped the underside of the submissive's chin with the other.

"Then take a real drink, you little slut."

At any other bar in the city, Trent would have found security on all sides, struggling to tug him outside.

At this bar, he was simply providing the entertainment for the evening, as his long, thick length sprung out over the edge of his jeans and hung down, growing erect by the sheer arousal of the moment. As it bobbed to life, the nameless male at the bar watched with a gaping mouth...but even as he followed his orders, his thin, smooth lips found it difficult to take anything beyond the first couple of inches of the thick, draconic member.

He'd never seen anything like it before, and feeling the tiny, smooth ridges on the shaft of Trent's cock was an adventure for his tongue.

"Better unhinge your jaw if you really wanna be satisfied, bitch," Trent continued to fall further and further down the hole of depravity, his old thoughts and timid ways becoming less of a reality, and more of a memory.

In the heat of the moment, it wasn't hard to understand his new preferences, and his lips stayed grinning not just at the pleasure he felt, but at the realization of the power he held; just a tiny squeeze with his massive paw could choke the poor, little submissive within an inch of passing out, but using the full girth of his manhood to do the trick was much more fun.

It's like I'm trying to swallow a fucking baseball bat, he groaned, but his complaints were forced to stay in the small of his mind, as his mouth found itself preoccupied with something much more important. The sheer size made it a task to deal with, but the ridges were a fun challenge, as they brushed and tickled against the roof of the leather fan's mouth, forcing him to fight back against his gag reflex much earlier than he usually would.

Trent wasn't concerned with whatever excuses the boy would have been able to cook up, regardless. It was his first blowjob, but while he couldn't ignore how sensitive his newly made cock was, he could play up the dominant role that was quickly taking a natural feel to him.

It was all too easy to release the boy's chin, but replace it by grabbing his perfectly styled hair and clenching it tightly in his digits, brushing his claws none too gently against the scalp of the submissive human.

An obvious bulge was pressing against the front of his overalls as Trent began gently pumping at his face from the hip, moving with inexperience...but his impossibly thick length did a great job of covering that up.

"Haven't got all d-day, boy..." Trent groaned, his fangs gritting just a little bit as the first few spurts of precum launched from the tip of his member and painted the back of his new partner's throat. "You gonna make me cum or what?!"

More fans of the leather lifestyle were gathering around the side of the bar, and the bartenders found themselves struggling to keep up with the number of drink orders that were coming in, mingled with the cheers from the crowd for Trent to make a terrible mess of the quiet submissive that he'd targeted.

All of it was unique to Trent, leaving him unaware of just how much the roaring crowd would speak to something inside of him.

As the defeated submissive continued to bob his head back and forth on the impressive length the best that he could, he suddenly found something more than saliva was dribbling down over his chin. Thick, milky and flavored of smoke and nectar, the first ever orgasm erupted from the draconic tip of Trent's cock, flooding the mouth of the young man and soaking his tonsils. Sticky mess continued to gush as he tried to swallow, but through cracks at the edges of his lips, he felt seed pouring down over his smooth, tender cheeks.

As Trisha, the dragon would have been worried about the crowd's judgment of her for reaching orgasm so fast, and looking a bit less than experienced with her thrusts.

As Trent, he was holding onto the boy's hair with both of his massive paws, forcing him to stay on the tip of the length, even as he coughed and gagged around the continued flood of tasty, sticky cum.

"Fuck...w-who knew a blowjob could feel t-this fuckin' good?!" Trent cried out, his words sounding every bit as natural as they should in a sexual situation, even if he was asking a legitimate question; no one was any wiser to the truth. When the sensations actually bordered on painful, Trent finally ducked his hips back and held still as the last gushes of his ejaculate sprayed across the face of the tired submissive...and though he struggled to catch any of it in his mouth, he swallowed what he could get, as the rest spilled down upon his slim, defined neck.

He was the kind of mess that anyone in the bar would have found enticing to see, but as much as Trent was enjoying the crowds, his desires were quickly becoming more selfish than that.

**

Inexperience wasn't always the kind of thing that someone could simply cover up with instinct, but in his old life, Trent knew plenty about tying knots and playing with ropes.

"My name's Nicky..."

He never would have guessed just how useful that information would have been, as he pulled the last of a strand of rope taut and tied it off, leaving the newly claimed submissive tied to the headboard. His legs and wrists were pressed together and forced to stay that way by cuffs of rope, and his leather overalls were an afterthought, cast to the floor next to the bed.

"You know that won't be your name much longer. You might as well get used to calling yourself a dirty, little slut..."

Warmth was spreading over Nicky's face, bashful and eager, as he watched the dragon step out of his jeans and climb onto the bed. There was only the moisture of Nicky's own throat to keep Trent's cock smooth and slick, but the submissive wouldn't be so lucky to be fucked by it yet.

It was Trent's first time truly dominating someone, and it was just a lucky guess on his part that forcing Nicky to wait for a deep, hard fucking would be so much crueler than any other punishment he could have devised.