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The tip of Drake's sandal caught the topmost concrete stair, sending him staggering forward. He grabbed the railing for support. Olivia and Chad, halfway down the stairs already, stopped to look back at him.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Haven't worn these in a while." He raised a foot to display one of his cheery yellow flip-flops.

Chad sneered, turning down the stairs toward the beach and tugging Olivia's hand. She cast Drake a sympathetic look as she followed.

"You invited a total loser to this party. To the most epic beach bonfire of the summer." Chad made no effort to lower his voice for Olivia's ears only. Chad wasn't the kind of guy who would do that.

Olivia, face lowered as she descended the short staircase, fussed with one of her earrings. She turned her head as she did so to glance surreptitiously at Drake. Even so, Drake noticed. He knew the tell-tale signs of Olivia's embarrassment in situations like this, since he'd seen them a million times.

At least Olivia had the decency to speak quietly. Drake didn't catch what she said. He saw Chad shake his head angrily in response. Drake sighed as he followed behind the couple at a respectful distance. When they stopped at the bottom of the stairs for a moment to remove their own sandals, Drake removed his a few steps behind them. Chad was right. He didn't belong here.

Fine sand tickled the soles of his bare feet. The last of the day's rays had given the beach sand a lingering warmth, but now it was half an hour after sunset. The beach was quickly cooling. Up ahead, a roaring bonfire promised solace for cold feet. Three pick-up trucks were pulled up close to the fire, though the tall flames made the vehicles look like Matchbox toys. The twenty or so fold-up chairs were dwarfed as well. Someone had brought a large portable grill. Why didn't they use the huge bonfire for cooking instead? Drake didn't understand these things at all.

Countless college-aged people were here, with more arriving in pairs or small groups from the stairs behind Drake or from the other end of the beach. About eighty kids were supposedly going to be at this party, Olivia had said. Seeing the party now, Drake believed it. Every person he saw had a bottle, can, or cup in hand. They were standing and talking, tossing balls, discs, facing the fire as they chatted in their chairs, or silently appreciating the music made by a couple of guitarists sitting on an old log. Too many to track. Drake first thought he saw two people braving the cool evening's ocean waters, but squinting realized it was two pairs of people. Two pairs with their faces very, very close to one another.

Drake was terrified. Chad was so, so right, this wasn't the place for him. He didn't know how to be cool, or where to get a drink, or what to say to anyone. He was short, tubby, and apparently his choice of footwear was unfashionable at best, abhorrent at worst. He glanced down at his plain red tee and green swimming trunks. Red and green went together, right? It was like Christmas. Who didn't love some holiday spirit?

"Hey, you good?" The back of Olivia's fingers playfully batted him on the shoulder. Chad, all six foot two of gym muscle, was busy performing some complex yet impressively smooth greeting ritual with some party-goers.

Drake let loose his panic now that he was given an opening. "Olivia, listen, I, um. I need to read more about cucumbers. I was gonna read about the soil tonight so I can plant them tomorrow morning in my garden. It's really cool! Not cool like this though. We, I mean me and this party, we don't mix. Thank you for inviting me but I should do more garden research!"

Olivia grabbed his elbow, chuckling. Drake tried not to cringe away. He didn't like being touched for any longer than a second.

"Oh my God, dude. Relax. Your garden? Your garden can wait. Gardens are good at that. _Everyone_is here tonight." She was wearing flashy pink lipstick. Drake had never seen her wear lipstick before. Where had his childhood friend gone when he wasn't paying attention?

"Olivia...I'm not 'everyone'. I don't think I even count as, like, anyone."

She smiled at him in a patronizing way that Drake. Maybe it would be insulting to most people. He was just grateful to receive a smile. "Drake, it's an open party on a secluded beach. No one's going to kick you out for being...maybe a little bit awkward."

Why couldn't she understand? "It's open but it's for you. Not for me. I mean, it's for people who do these kinds of events, not people who are lame and like to garden and collect state quarters and make bread."

"You know how to make bread?" Olivia's eyes lit up. "Oh, that's perfect! See, that's actually kinda cool. Tell you what. If you stay for at least half an hour, I'll be your wingman."

"Wingman? This isn't World War 1, so...oh, wait, is this like, a party with a theme? I'm not wearing--"

"No theme Drake. A wingman is someone who helps you meet a girl to get laid. You can tell them interesting facts about bread-making. Just do that cute thing you do when you get really into what you're talking about." She gauged his expression. "You...are into girls right?"

Ha! Someone like him could never have a girlfriend. He didn't deserve one anyway. Women were mysterious, angelic creatures. Not meant to interact with people like him. He'd resigned himself to these simple facts of the universe in the tenth grade.

"Yeah, I'm into girls like...like sh-shovels are into...wait, no, that doesn't make sense. Hold on."

Olivia pushed against his back to get him walking. Chad rejoined them by taking Olivia's hand after a quick kiss on her lips.

"You have to last thirty minutes, okay Drake? Promise?"

Her eyes were already on one of the coolers next to the truck. It wasn't fair. She was asking the world of him, but she saw this as no big deal at all.

Chad clapped him on a shoulder. Hard. "Yeah, stay for half an hour, then take off. But don't drink all the good beer, okay bud?" He eyed Drake's belly with obvious contempt.

Drake nodded, pretending to look at all of the bottles jabbed into the sand by the chairs, so he wouldn't have to look at Chad. "Sounds good."

"Catch up with you in a minute," Olivia said as her too-cool alpha boyfriend tugged her into the firelight to grab drinks.

And then Drake was alone.

Thirty minutes. Just thirty minutes. He could do this. Being outside of your comfort zone was supposed to be healthy. (The complete opposite of plants.) But what to do? How did one...partake in a bonfire party?

He did the reasonable thing. He beelined to a vacant chair, and sat down. Far away from the firelight. Far away from anyone else.

Twenty nine and a half minutes to go.

---

"How's it goin'?"

A girl and a guy had just slouched into the chairs next to him with red cups in hand. Drake recognized the girl from his Biology 101 class last semester. The guy, he didn't know. Were the pair a couple? Friends? How were you supposed to tell?

Drake stole a quick glance at her face. She was dark-skinned, with curly hair trimmed close enough to be called a buzz cut. An encouraging smile.

"...good." Drake's gut clenched. "Y-yourself?"

"Fine. How about that Bio final though? The essay portion was straight ridiculous. I did not study phylogenetic trees at all. I was making up bullshit left and right. Did you? Still got an A- though, heh, let's go!"

Drake formulated a response while she sipped from her cup. "Yeah. I mean, yeah, no, I didn't study that topic enough either."

She turned away from him as the mystery man tapped her on the arm, pointing at something on his phone. They both laughed before she politely turned back toward Drake.

"I don't think it was a reasonable one," Drake ventured. "A reasonable essay prompt, for the class I mean.

"No way. It shoulda been on population dynamics, or all the cell structures. The shit we spent most of the semester learning."

Smile and nod, smile and nod. Drake nodded again more emphatically when she finished speaking, to be sure.

The other guy laughed. He was still paying most of his attention to his phone though. Did he see a funny meme? Get an amusing text from a friend? Or was he laughing at Drake's attempt at spontaneous conversation? Drake's growing confidence shriveled at the thought.

The girl was smiling at him. She took another sip in the lapse of conversation. "Cool, man. See you in the fall classes I'm sure. More volleyball Joe?"

A few seconds later, Drake was alone once more.

He'd screwed it up. He had no idea how, but he'd failed at basic 'cool' conversation. No doubt he'd made some rookie mistake, like trying to grow basil in a colder climate. Nothing good would come of that. Maybe it was the way he was nodding. No, it wouldn't have been the nodding, but his choice of words. Did a confident person his age use the word 'reasonable'?

He let himself slouch forward as he pushed his face into his hands. Hopeless. This was why gardening was perfect for him. You didn't need to be aggressive or even very active with plants. You didn't need interpersonal skills. You didn't need to have a pretty face, or be fit, or comfortable in new situations, or have _any_of those qualities that he absolutely lacked.

While he figured he'd end up one day as an arborist, environmental scientist, forester - something along those lines - at times like this, he dearly wished he wasn't such a colossal failure at the skills that came so naturally to everyone else.

I wish, for once, I could be that someone who has everything I lack. I wish I had the looks, the skills, and the personality to make everyone here love and respect me.

Olivia broke into his thoughts with a soft "Hey."

Drake swiftly pulled his hands away from his face. "Hi."

She studied him for a moment, like he might a misshapen seedling. "Alright. I've got my beer, and you've had some time to adjust. Let's do this, Drake."

"Do...do what?" The wingman thing? "How can--"

Olivia waved her free hand at a couple of chatting girls not too far away. Her fingernails were painted in summer tones. "Cindy! Jenna!"

As they approached, Drake's throat felt dry. He knew it wasn't from the bonfire. Time for round two. If Olivia did most of the talking, he could stay in the background like usual. Yes, this was no mountain, but a molehill.

"This is my childhood friend, Drake. The stars aligned and we enrolled in the same university. Drake, these are Cindy and Jenna. They're from the objectively best sorority, Tau Phi."

Cindy was short, blonde and wearing a wet two-piece orange bikini. She'd been one of the four braving the cold breakers. The other, Jenna, had donned some airy black swimsuit-skirt. Her face was contoured by numerous smile lines. Jenna reached forward a hand to shake Drake's with a delighted expression.

"Nice to meet you," he murmured as he shook Jenna's then Cindy's hands.

"You're so cute," Cindy drawled, startling Drake before he realized she was talking to Olivia. "I mean, I think we _are_the best but it's only because our sisters are such wonderful human beings."

"Won't argue with that," said Olivia. "Number one in community service hours, and your Cinco de Mayo house party was voted best party of last year," said Olivia.

"Oh my gosh, you've done your research!" Jenna said with a hand to her breast.

Olivia looked self-conscious now. "I'm considering going Greek next semester. I would freak if I could be a Tau Phi pledge."

The conversation continued for a good minute. Drake tried his utmost to appear engaged. The topic of sororities was quite exclusionary as far as topics went, though. He found his eyes and mind beginning to wander when Olivia spoke his name.

"Drake might actually be the perfect plus one for me at the potluck you ladies throw in the second week of classes. Because he..." She paused for dramatic effect. "...can bake a wicked loaf of bread from scratch."

"Oh really?"

"Like, with those bread-making machines?"

Drake breathed in slowly through his nose. He could do this. He could talk about bread for at least ten seconds.

"Er, no, I don't use those machines. I make the dough, put it in a bread pan, then bake it in the oven." He paused. The three girls seemed to expect more detail. "I guess...it's the old-fashioned way, right? I...like to use, uh, ceramic bread pans. There are steel ones that I think are more common. Ceramic gives a different texture to the outer part. The crust."

"Does the ceramic make it softer or what?" Jenna asked.

"It changes the browning process slightly. Has to do with heat conduction or...infrared waves." He shrugged, a quick gesture that could have been mistaken for a spasm. "I'm not a physics major."

Cindy laughed.

Cindy_laughed_. She laughed at Drake, but not because he was weird, or oblivious, or tubby, or because he'd messed up something that everyone else got right. She laughed because he'd said something funny. Even though he hadn't meant to make a joke, this was a major victory.

Jenna and Olivia smiled reflexively. Drake glanced at Olivia. Her eyes sparkled with approval.

"The baking is the easy part though. The dough is where little details matter ten times as much. I could roll the dough then punch it for a minute in one batch, then two minutes in the next batch. Or whatever. You would taste a huge difference. The fluffiness comes from how many air pockets there are, which in turn affects the taste, right? That's why time matters there. Oh, and the ingredients. I could give a lecture about bread ingredients. The yeast of course is the most important. And where you get it is like, critical. You want to..."

He trailed off. This was the part in a conversation where you might give a pause to give other people a chance to talk. Drake gave himself a mental pat on the back for having the awareness to not ramble on like he sometimes did.

Olivia seemed content to stay out of the dialogue now that Drake had his footing. Jenna appeared interested enough in what he was saying. Cindy looked like she had developed a question or comment.

In answer to the tiny head tilt he gave her, she simply waved as if to say "Go on." Olivia, his 'wingman', nodded out of view of the two sorority girls.

He shifted his feet in the sand out of the small dips that had formed. "Let me back up. The way I understand it, there's wet yeast and dry yeast. I've never had the opportunity to use wet yeast since it's basically for professionals. Or amateur bakers who are much braver than me."

All three of them smiled. Real, genuine, not-making-fun-of-you smiles. Emboldened, Drake went on to tell them about where he purchased his yeast, then gave them an overview of how to make the dough. Cindy piped up with a question about if bread was vegan or not. Jenna offered her two cents. They had a legitimate conversation. A legitimate conversation, led by Drake, at a beach bonfire party, about a topic that he was passionate about. Never had something this miraculous happened to him.

Olivia deftly cut in after three or four minutes. Drake was grateful for her wrapping up the conversation. He was feeling good, but admitted he likely would have flubbed up saying goodbyes. As Cindy and Jenna moved to join the guitar duet audience, Olivia excitedly squeezed Drake's upper arm.

"Oh my God Drake that was so good! You did so good!"

Her nails were sharp. She released him when he shrank away with a nervous chuckle. "Yeah. Yeah, that went really well. Bread's more interesting to other people than I thought."

"Same. The way you described it...not gonna lie, it makes me want to give baking bread a shot."

Olivia stepped right in front him of him at one point as they walked through the sand at the periphery of the festivities. His appreciative smile twisted to a frown. Olivia was shorter. Or he was taller. Well, he_was_walking on the balls of his feet. It felt more comfortable than heel-striking when he was in this powdery sand.

Their walk took them close to the grill. Drake eyed the gray smoke rising from the edges. His nostrils widened as he took in a deep breath of the cooking meat. Chicken, beef, and some vegetables. Definitely onions and peppers, maybe more. His stomach rumbled. Olivia had instructed him to not eat dinner before coming.

"Wanna grab burgers?" he asked.

His friend was looking toward a circle of ten or so dark shapes further down the beach. Judging by the gestures he was seeing, there were two discs being tossed around. One of the figures was beckoning Olivia over. Chad.

No! Drake wanted to capitalize on his wave of confidence before it crashed back down. To prolong this moment. He added a pointed "Please?"

She turned back to him. "Yeah, sure. I'm starving." To Chad, she held up two fingers in the air. "Two minutes!" she called out.

The man attending the grill wore only swim trunks. And he was hairy. His forearms were like a bear's. Two others were chatting with him as he turned patties and breasts. Olivia got his attention, though his eyes moved straight to Drake.

"May I have a burger, please?" Drake pointed to one of the pinker ones in front. "That one?"

"Sure, man. Cheese?"

"Yes. Thanks."

The girl next to the griller held a cup of orange juice. Couldn't have been older than a freshman. She laughed at something and placed her hand on the griller's upper arm briefly. It came away with all the hair that had been on the man's arm. The griller didn't seem to notice. Drake sure did. He returned a shrug to the girl when she shot him a surprised, disgusted look. As Olivia put in her food request, Drake raised a hand and opened his mouth. No. No, better to not make a scene. He put his hand down. The griller wouldn't want his health ailments to be announced at a party.

Plates in hand, Olivia led them to some chairs close to the music. The guitar players were both men, hips touching. Too close to be just friends, Drake surmised after a moment. Each of them had charming singing voices, and the way they strummed the strings with their picks wasn't bad at all. Ten others had come close to listen, staying even between songs. The duo launched into a lively new tune. Drake recognized the lyrics once they reached the chorus, but it sounded like rock. Not his genre.

The burger was delicious. He found himself devouring it in four barely-chewed bites. The meat was still sizzling hot as it slid down his throat. Drake could see both performers clearly as he enjoyed his meal. As luck would have it, the three people sitting in front of him were very short. It was with that great view that Drake saw the player on the left begin to fumble his notes. With skillful musicianship, the guitarist set his pick down and switched to strumming with his finger. Just as he did so, his partner's pick flew out of his grip into the sand.

The song ended discordantly and abruptly. Everyone nearby turned to see what had happened. Those out of sight wandered closer. In the fresh absence of music, multiple urgent conversations could be heard.

"...seeing this? Are you _fucking_seeing this? My..."

"...filed them this morning, and they've never grown like this, like..."

"...get to Student Health. No, the emergency room. They're _all_black..."

"...it's her, it's me, it's you. This is a goddamn mass hallucination. The beer. It's gotta be in..."

Drake mirrored everyone else. He glanced at his hands.

"Huh. That's...new." His fingers were wider, tipped with opaque gray claws instead of fingernails. They made his thumb look tiny. He flexed his ankles to pull his toes out of the sand. Each toe was like his big toe, while his big toe itself was shriveled. No, it was shriveling away. Millimeter by millimeter. And his toenails were now claws. They were bigger and duller than his fingers' claws, and they curved a bit downward, but they were claws, alright. The shape of his feet was wrong, too. The part of his foot where the toes came out, his forefoot, was stretched further away from his heel than it used to be.

"Drake!" Olivia's cry interrupted his observations. She held up eight black-clawed fingers between their faces. Each hand had three dainty fingers accompanied by an opposable thumb. Her feet each had three toes now. Just like everyone else, Drake noted, as he glanced around. Everyone except him. He was different.

Collective shock was heading toward collective panic. Drake could feel it, like a sixth sense. Reading 'the mood of the room' had always been on the long list of skills he lacked. In social situations like parties, Drake often generated awkward silences, embarrassing memories, and regret in general. Now, however, he could practically smell the rising fear. Someone had to do something. Someone could get hurt!

"Olivia, calm down." He rose to his feet, lifted his head high, and raised his strange, clawed hands in a pacifying gesture. "Everyone, please calm yourselves. No need to panic."

He expected to be ignored by everyone. Indeed, the two people at the edge of the firelight didn't glance up, apparently enthralled by their changing limbs. Yet everyone else around the bonfire turned their attention to him. Almost...politely. God, they were so short! Every single person was at least a head shorter than him. But that was impossible. He would have noticed earlier. He would have...oh.

Everyone wasn't shrinking. Drake was growing.

He hesitated in that moment of realization. Half of the party-goers began to frantically look about. For their friends, for their belongings. They were going to leave. Leave, and potentially spread this...disease, if that's what it was. Drake could be witnessing the beginning of an outbreak. Like a corn blight, an agricultural epidemic that spreads and spreads, impacting thousands of families until the source is identified and stopped. This moment was crucial. This transformation needed to be contained. Matters of public health trumped personal well-being.

Drake found it easy to raise his voice, to envelop everyone around the fire with his words. "Stay calm. Please stop moving. You, and you with the vape pen. We can't go running off until...until we figure out why this is happening." Blessedly, they stopped moving. Remembering his previous mistake, he spoke again. "I'm taking suggestions on next steps..."

Three of the guys, including one of the guitar players, offered suggestions.

"Stop drinking. Dump your cups."

"Fuck, someone grab a bible and start praying. This is religious 'I smite thee!' shit!"

"Let's put out the fire, maybe it's the smoke, the fumes, you know?"

Drake had mixed feelings about the first two suggestions, but shook his head immediately on the third. His larger, flappier ears pressed against his head with the motion, and he noticed heavy new growths extending out from his temples.

"No, we need light to see. We can't feed panic." His tongue touched the points of his front teeth with every 'N' sound. Each tooth was sharp.

A new voice chimed in. "You all doing okay over here?" Drake craned his head to the source of the voice. It was Chad. Either he'd fallen multiple times and bruised all of his skin while jogging to the bonfire from the disc-throwing circle, or his skin was changing to a darker shade. And something was wrong with the bends of his legs.

Drake quickly scanned the rest of the shore, including the breakers. His eyes now pierced the darkness with ease, despite the bright fire so close to his face. Everyone that had been away from the fire was now gathered with Chad. It made sense. He was a very popular kid. And, Drake had to admit, a natural leader. People would naturally flock to him in a crisis.

Drake felt more than one pair of eyes on him. "We're fine. The changes aren't stopping. What's causing them?"

"Tsch," said Chad. "Doesn't matter, we're all getting out of here now. Everyone, grab your shit and head for the parking lot stairs. Has anyone called 911 yet? Rick, get that done, and Olivia, babe, --"

"No," said Drake in as firm a voice he could muster. He surprised himself, though he didn't let it show. His voice was as hard and unyielding as iron. Deeper, too. "We can't let this spread, whether it's a disease, some...psychosis, or even a magical curse for all we know." No one laughed. The only sounds were the crackling bonfire, the waves, and the grill. "We all stay here. We're isolated on this beach."

Chad shifted his feet a bit wider than shoulder width apart as the gaze of the crowd passed to him. He was settling into a half-crouch on the balls of his feet. His eyes lost focus for a moment as his new hands patted around a face that was slowly pushing out into a snout.

"Drake. You're just..." He paused. Drake was surprised Chad even remembered his name. "Seriously, are you sure about this? You're going to play leader and pretend you know what's best for everyone?"

The crowd turned to him. In that silent, surreal moment, Drake had to consciously stop himself from making one of his old nervous gestures -- sliding his hands into his pockets. Not the best idea given the situation, especially since his fingers would stab right through the lining to maybe cut his own leg open. A crowd of his peers was waiting for his next words. Yet the anxiety and pressure were orders of magnitude smaller than what Drake expected. And the more time passed, the more this...attention felt natural. Well, everyone forgot their stage fright after they got started.

"Yes," Drake pronounced. "I say again, we all stay here. That, I am sure of. The rest is for us to discuss. Before that discussion begins, however, know that I will be watching the beach. With my size and my new eyes, I will spot anyone who tries to sneak away." Best to provide a warning, just in case.

Chad shrugged, and looked like he'd almost decided to bow. Bow, to Drake! Unreal. "Alright fine." Amazingly, the two people next to Chad nudged him, and he added, "As you say, Drake."

Of all that had happened, this was too much. Drake nodded, but he needed to diffuse attention away. He needed to think about what the heck was going on. "I'm stepping away. Everyone, carry on."

As he turned, he could feel a short tail twist with the rest of his spine. It was compressed inside his swim trunks that now felt like they were sized XS instead of XL. Displeased, and with his head swimming, Drake barely noticed the irritated snort he released from the upturned nostrils on his short snout. A quick slice of his index finger's claw through the material was all it took to let his tail out into the fire-warmed air. Satisfied, he walked with measured steps away from the firelight, leaving behind the small voices of a budding forum for discussing the crisis.

---

The sunset an hour prior was a fading memory. The heat and light of the towering bonfire was the center of everything now. The cargo ships near the horizon, the pier a half mile away, the expensive houses further up and down the beach, even the parking lot packed with cars all seemed irrelevant. Elements of another world. Drake had ordered everyone to stay here at the party, and no one had yet disobeyed. The fireside would be their home for the foreseeable future.

A cool wind blew in from the sea. Drake did not feel the chill. Only two minutes had passed since he'd moved out of sight behind one of the pick-up trucks, yet the changes wrought by the mysterious transformation were significant. Drake's skin could be more accurately termed hide. Scaly bands the color of the sand coated his belly from under his chin, down his chest, between his legs, almost to the underside of his tail. The rest of his hide was a pebbled blue reminiscent of the ocean. Every minute that passed broadened the spectrum of his coloration, like beams of sunlight reaching from the shallows to the depths of the sea. The tones were darkest about his back and sides. The scales were lighter on his face and the inner parts of his extremities.

If anything, now he was growing faster than when the transformation had begun. Drake stepped behind the tallest part of the stack of firewood in the truck's bed to stay out of sight. Every footfall was heavy from his weight. It felt as though he were wearing a backpack crammed full with all of his thickest textbooks, except he was strong enough to bear it. He could easily crane his longer neck to peek at all the transforming people around the fire, but the swelling bulk of his main body would be larger than the truck in a few minutes. He couldn't hide forever.

And why should he be hiding? So what if his manhood had retreated into his body, behind the scales of his crotch? So what if he was changing into a different creature than everyone else? It shouldn't matter that he didn't know what was going on. He had captured the attention of his peers with his presence and his words. He had enforced his vision of the correct path. He had prevented the beginning of an epidemic.

Drake flexed his hip to step into the open and heard the fabric of his swim trunks tear. He flexed the muscle again, with purpose, and the garment split down the side. Then the other side. His thighs were massive corded muscles covered in thick scales. But with the sudden motion, he wobbled. His lengthening tail scrabbled and scraped at the sand, granting him no purchase. Drake fell to all fours. Instead of a sharp jolt in his wrists, he felt comfortable once again. His wrists were stockier, now sturdy enough to support the heavier weight of his large head, his long neck, and his muscled upper body with his deep chest. Likewise his fingers were shorter and wider for support. His thumbs were gone. His hands had become forepaws. No matter. This felt right. Besides, thumbs on the huge reptile he was becoming would be downright odd. As he stepped out toward the fire, his green swim trunks fell away. Good riddance. By the looks of it, no one else was wearing clothes either.

Each person had shrunk. Even a shirt would be constricting on the largest of them. Their forms were reptilian like him, but that was where the similarity ended. Each was a small, hairless, bipedal lizard-person. They walked comfortably upright, though their knees were always bent with ankles high. Lizard tails swayed and bent with their movements, which sometimes looked more like silly hops than a true stride. No one was sitting down. Those on the ground were either crouched low with their tails extending behind them on the sand, or laying back with their tails wriggled out in front.

And they were beautiful. As a collective, they were a scintillating rainbow in the dancing light of the fire. Each of their hides was a different hue. About half of them had complementing colors adorning their scaly skins in such forms as spots or stripes. Sky blue, fiery orange with ruddy splotches, smoky gray with black stripes along the back and tail, aquamarine, pure milky white, and many, many more. Like him, they had lighter coloration on their undersides. Unlike him, their hides were so thin there so as to be skin.

Inquisitive, gleaming eyes like jewels turned toward him as he approached. Their eye colors matched their hides. Drake, his head arched high above his body as he approached, lowered his snout to examine the creature closest to him. Flat chested without even nipples. Male or female he could not see, as all of their genitals had vanished. There was only a faint vertical slit surrounded by fine scales. He glanced up to its head, which was crowned with diminutive gray horns and spikier scales toward the back instead of hair. Its gaze was averted respectfully but its small nostrils were flaring to take in his scent. In turn, Drake sniffed. Good, the fear scent in the air had faded. The creature itself had a plain smell. The unassuming scent was reassuring, in a way. This one was male, Drake now knew.

A new thrill raced down Drake's long spine, so long that it took three seconds to reach the tip of his frilled tail. All of this was bizarre, inhuman, fantastical. At the same time, there was neither associated anxiety nor uncertainty. He had decided to reenter the limelight, and that's what he was going to do. The party had gone quite well for him so far. He would ride that high while it lasted. Better -- he would make it last.

All eyes were on him. The conversation trailed off. Drake swept the assemblage with what he intended to be a stern visage. He noticed the guitars lay limp in the laps of two lizard-people, one purple and one brown.

"It seems the music has stopped," Drake said softly. Yet the baritone words were sonorous. He knew they all heard him despite their lacking external ears.

The guitarists looked sheepish as they picked up their instruments and scrabbled up to sit on the log. To them, the log was much bigger. Drake figured he could send the log rolling with one kick if he so desired. Hm. That would be most amusing, but these two were playing music for him. Their behavior should not be punished. As the guitarists grew accustomed to strumming with their claws instead of a pick, a couple of other lizard-people approached him to talk.

"Hold a moment," he murmured to them. Still, his broad, deep chest amplified the words, no doubt sending them to everyone present. And still with every passing moment, he could feel himself growing larger. Something entirely new was growing from around his shoulder blades, too.

The two halted respectfully while Drake addressed the throng of lizard-people. "Once I am updated on the deliberations, I will help determine what we will be doing next. Until then, do not leave, but try to enjoy the party. This is intended to be the greatest beach bonfire of the summer, correct?"

Although his question was rhetorical, it was received with a great many bobbing of heads. One by one, their glittering eyes looked away. Conversations were struck up, activities were started, fresh meat was thrown onto the grill. A great number of them struck out toward the waves. Evidently they could see as well as Drake in the darkness.

Drake returned his attention to the two individuals before him. A yellow one with orange stripes visible atop its shoulders and arms, and a pink one with magenta eyes. While the yellow one seemed to shrink down beneath his gaze, the pink one spoke enthusiastically.

"Drake, it'sss me, Olivia! How are you holding up?" Like everyone else, her voice was raspy and sibilant. In addition, her volume matched her diminutive size. She looked like she had to put in a good amount of effort just to speak at a conversational tone.

"Olivia?" What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to say it? Talking to her now as a childhood friend, confiding in her, sharing himself in this public setting in front of everyone else would be wrong. Nonetheless, this was Olivia. Olivia! For her, he would act natural. He tried to superimpose a picture of her as the human friend he'd known for so many years, even as he tried to imagine himself standing there as normal Drake.

"I am...well. Thank you for asking. I am...gathering a new perspective. Literally and figuratively, it would seem. Yourself?" Speaking to her now felt as though he had been gravely scolding young children while baby-sitting. His friend Olivia had knocked at the front door, and now he had to switch gears to speak casually again. It was too strange.

"I'm okay I think," she said. "Thisss tail isss too weird. Sssorry, I can't ssstop hisssing my 'esss' soundsss."

Drake felt the urge to chuckle. A snort came out instead. "No need to apologize."

"Sssorr--uh...alright. Do you know why you're different from usss, Drake? Honessstly you look like..." She stepped off to the side, looking up at his back. "A dragon," she finished with certainty.

That would explain the appendages on his back. He swung his neck into a 'C' shape to watch the beginnings of wings move at his command. They looked like new arms with clawed hands. A thin membrane of skin stretched between the bones of the dramatically elongated 'fingers', as well as to the bones of the 'arm'. The membrane was of a similar sandy tan color to the bands along his belly. Could he...fly once the wings were fully formed? The thought was both insane and reasonable. Perhaps he could take some of these unfortunate flightless lizard-people with him when he did, as a kindness.

"A dragon I am," he said. "You lot are obviously reptilian but I cannot place you exactly. Does anyone know?"

The yellow creature, still practically cowering, spoke up. "Er, thisss one might have sssome insssight...your, uh, dragon-linesss, sssir."

Drake rolled his eyes. "Call me Lord Drake, why don't you." On a whim he raised his head high, some ten feet from the sand, and sent his voice rolling across the beach. "Party-goers, I am now to be called Lord Drake."

His tail swayed as he snorted again, mood buoyant. Was he joking? Drake wasn't sure. At this point it was probably appropriate to have such an honorific before his name. The creatures might be more at ease in having a respectful title by which to address him. Indeed, the yellow one under his snout certainly seemed relieved.

"Lord Drake, I believe we are koboldsss."

"Kobolds? Explain." Those sounded like monsters out of a story.

The yellow kobold nodded its head. "Right away! Koboldsss are a ssspecies of creaturesss originally from old role-playing gamesss. In more recccent timesss, they are portrayed asss short reptilian humanoidsss. They are individually weak, ssso they often live in large groupsss and rely on trapsss and sssuch. And they are often found in ssservitude to a dragon. A willing ssservitude, I mean. It isss their...I mean, it isss our greatessst honor to ssserve a dragon. At leassst that isss how thisss one recallsss it, Lord Drake."

"Hmmm," Drake rumbled, thoughtfully. "That explains much." It explained their deference and eagerness to please. Their thoughts and feelings were changing, just like their bodies, to match those of fictional kobolds. By extension, did that mean Drake's mind was changing as well? He took a moment to self-reflect. Yes. Yes, he was definitely thinking new thoughts, feeling new feelings. In retrospect, it was obvious. Pre-party Drake would never dream of doing half the things he'd accomplished tonight. He'd completely changed from that old person. The new Drake was a huge improvement. Or was that his draconic ego talking?

He heard the shuffling of the yellow kobold's small feet in the sand. "Oh, you're dismissed. Go enjoy yourself."

It bowed, complete with a curled tail, prior to scurrying away to join a group of some other kobolds observing Drake from a respectful distance.

"And you, Olivia. Are you also a willing servant?"

She hissed as she her posture shifted marginally. Drake's brain understood it as an expression of uncertainty or thoughtfulness, as if he'd been a dragon living amongst kobolds his whole life. "It sssounds ssstrange, Lord Drake, but I think I am. On one hand, you're Drake, my old friend Drake. On the other hand, you're not really Drake anymore. And I'm not...I'm not the sssame either."

"No. No, you are not." Curious, he wondered about kobold psychology. He wanted to know more. "Tell me how you are feeling. About yourself, about everyone else, about me. Do not be shy."

She inclined her head before she looked up again with luminous purple eyes. Now the pupils were more vertical than round. "I feel...weak. I can't be more than three feet tall. I feel like I can't do much on my own, like I'm jussst part of a group. But not in a bad way! There'sss a ssstrength in numbersss. I want to sssupport all the other koboldsss, and I know they'd help me out too. We're all in thisss together."

Every sentence she spoke, her expression brightened. "And you, you're with usss Lord Drake. Look at you! You're huge, and powerful, and ssscary, and sssmart!"

Drake supposed that he was. To play devil's advocate, he raised a scaly brow. "So?"

"Ssso, we're all going to be fine. We'll be good, obedient koboldsss, I know we will. Asssk usss if we can help in our own little waysss. We want you to sssucceed ssso that we can sssucceed with you. Asssuming that'sss okay with you, of courssse, Lord Drake."

Drake nodded his great, horned head. He shifted his wings to ensure they were properly tucked in upon his back. There was so much membrane folded together, so much potential air to catch. He sniffed and felt the mild sting of salt in the air. Yes, later he would fly. His shoulders were no longer steadily rising away from the sand. His tail had stretched as far as it was going to. The weight of the bony blue horns behind his brows had stabilized. The lengthening of the membranous frills on his ears and backbone had concluded.

Gone was the pitiful human Drake. Here was the resplendent Lord Drake.

His wings unfurled with a sound like a boat's mainsail catching wind. He placed his great clawed feet in an even, symmetric stance with his long tail out behind him. His neck curved to place his head well over everyone's heads. He parted his hard lips to show fangs like swords.

"Hear me, kobolds! I am Lord Drake, and I am your master. From this moment forth, each of you is under my protection. I will allow no harm to befall you. You will prosper so long as I guide you. In turn, you will serve me for the remainder of your lives, or until the unlikely circumstance that I release you. Be glad, be proud, for you are the Bonfire Kobold Tribe!"

With his great wings spanning almost 30 feet, he fanned the flames of the bonfire to a brilliant pillar while every kobold hissed and squealed and stamped its approval.

"Now, make this beach bonfire party as epic as the tales that will be told of our transformation this day! Let the merry-making cease only when the sun has risen above the eastern horizon!"

---

The hours passed delightfully. First, Drake strolled along the beach. Twenty or so kobolds were industriously digging tunnels and ditches. He would have called them moats, but there was no castle or other guarded structure in sight. The one toy shovel lay untouched. So occupied with the digging were they that most didn't notice Drake until he was upon them. More than a few were actively burrowing under the sand. Sand spray was thrown out in clumps behind planted hind feet and upraised tails. Drake found himself considering these kobolds in a new light. Their work ethic was impressive, and they were eager for his approval. The creatures could make any lair much more defensible.

Next, Drake spent some time curled around the bonfire. The radiant heat was exceedingly pleasant against his scales, especially on his face. He must have dozed off since the next moment he noticed a kobold patiently waiting in front of his snout with something shiny in hand. She requested his permission to place it on one of his toes. The piece of jewelry was a necklace. No, a bracelet sized for a human. It might serve him as a ring, although Drake had never been one to wear jewelry before. The golden chain glinted in the firelight. As did the five small emeralds adorning it. He spread the toes of his left forepaw, and she slipped it on the one.

"Hmm," he rumbled. The vibrations dislodged some of the sticks near the base of the bonfire, throwing out a dozen embers into the warm air. "More firewood," he called to a brown kobold fetching something from a backpack. It scrambled toward the bundles of firewood on one of the trucks. Drake wiggled his fearsome claws, admiring the new ring.

"Good choice," he said to the kobold who had presented the jewelry. She all but gasped in a breath and her tail curled in pleasure.

Two minutes later, a queue had formed as half of the tribe awaited their turn to offer him gifts. They talked to each other in their sibilant and hyperactive voices. Some playfully (and some not so playfully) argued over which gifts would be best received, or how best to get on Drake's good side. Drake allowed the kobolds to climb over his body, linking together smaller pieces of jewelry, making knots, testing strength, as they slipped rings and fine chains over his claws and the spines of the frills on his back. They fed him too. He preferred the meat thoroughly warmed but not exactly cooked. 'Very rare', if one were to be pedantic about it. Of course he allowed them to feast on the remaining party food supplies to their hearts' content.

After a nap, Drake found himself with a new appetite. He wanted a thrill, or perhaps simply a pleasant diversion would do. He called upon the tribe to provide willing participants for a footrace. Every single one lined up on the beach sand, where the wet met the dry. There were maybe eighty or ninety of the creatures, all told. They acted as though great shame would fall upon any who did not rise for their dragon's entertainment.

The race pleased Drake greatly. The kobolds were not above tripping each other up with glee, nor insulting each other to distract. The creatures were sprightly, capricious. That is, when they were not absorbed in their tunnel-making or under direct scrutiny from Drake. The winner was a taller, almost muscled kobold with a deep blue coloration similar to Drake's own. It bowed quickly at Drake's off-handed congratulations.

Drake himself lined up at the starting line. He had no doubts about winning a race. Instead, he sought to understand his own physical capabilities better. He had ten kobolds line up on either side of him. When he uttered the word "Go!", he gave them a head start. They looked so slow, so uncoordinated, as he gazed down upon them from his head's natural vantage point. As they slowed and looked back at their stationary master, Drake surged forward. In a flash he was past them. The know-how to run on four legs came naturally. He found himself unfurling his wings partway for balance. His head and tail were fully extended like an arrow in flight. Though his strides were a far cry from swift, the length of his legs and his sheer size gave him a speed well in excess of any human.

He stretched his wings out. He flapped. And like that he was airborne, his limbs hanging beneath his bulk. He dipped his right wing-tip to touch the seafoam of the small breakers, thus banking back toward the bonfire. The kobolds were jumping up and down as they cheered. Drake tilted his wings upward as if to hug the air in front of him. He landed in an explosion of sand. Almost effortless, this flying business was.

"Hop on, those among you who dare."

Less than an hour later, Drake coasted back to the bonfire. He released the seal he held in his hind claws onto the sand. "Gut this careless hunter, then cook it," he said to his tribe. They leaped to the task, many already beginning to salivate from their maws. The kobolds that were clutching the frilled spines of Drake's back slid off. Many of them were still heaving. Almost all of his passengers had emptied their stomachs early into the flight. Evidently dragons were meant for flying, and kobolds were not.

Drake looked up the beach as he wondered if the kobolds had been able to throw the disc again with their new hands. Instead Drake saw two kobolds, a speckled red one and a purple one, draped over each other. A pink phallus had emerged from the purple one's slit, and was currently resting on the sand just outside of the red one's slit. While they apparently had made some effort to conceal themselves behind a hump in the sand away from the fire, it was a half-hearted attempt at best. Their bright eyes watched Drake for a reaction.

He considered. Sexual activities would facilitate bonding and enable the tribe ultimately to grow. "Carry on."

The kobolds did not carry on, but squirmed uncomfortably beneath his hard gaze. Many of the other kobolds were noticing what was happening now, too. The purple kobold began to stand up as he opened his mouth.

"Lord Drake --"

"Now," Drake said with a menacing undertone. More for experimentation than out of necessity, Drake added a magnificent growl.

The red kobold instantly shifted to all fours with her tail curled high when the purple kobold began to thrust with a forced speed. Due to Drake's intervention, the whole act was unnatural. They made no noise but stole glances at Drake, miserably. Their tails weren't even touching. Nonetheless, only a few seconds passed before purple screwed up his eyes and hissed. Tiny drops leaked from red's slit. Together, they relaxed onto the sand. The scent of their coupling permeated the air. Purple's phallus was already beginning to retreat into his slit. Kobolds were volatile little things.

Drake was surprised to feel a tingling warmth in his own groin. The sex smell from the kobolds did not serve as a source of attraction to him, but rather, a hint of what might be to come. How, though? He would never consider a mere kobold for a mate. Hmm. Nonetheless, maybe they could help. The creatures were not unintelligent.

The Bonfire Kobold Tribe gathered about its namesake as Drake walked with purpose to the party's center. He planted his forelegs in the back of one of the pick-up trucks, raising himself even higher.

"Kobolds. Give me your assistance in this matter. I would have a sexual experience upon this beach. This is not something for which I would give direction. Tell me what to do, how to place myself. All necessary steps."

No derision from the kobolds, but surprise. Surprise and uncertainty. Their eyes roved his huge body, especially his crotch. Let them. They would find only more magnificence there. A couple of them looked around the beach with dismay, as if expecting to see a female dragon just walking by. Drake saw one of them peer down at its own groin, measuring the length of its genital slit with a few small fingers.

One spoke up: "My kin, we mussst do our bessst to help Lord Drake. We will find a way passst the obssstacle of sssize."

Another bobbed its head, attracting the eyes of all. Scales of coconut brown and lime green. "Asss a human, I was rather experienced at thessse mattersss. Follow my lead, brothersss, sissstersss."

It approached with its lustrous eyes on Drake's. They asked his permission. He grunted an acknowledgment of their question then sat back on his hind legs and tail. It tip-toed toward past his front legs. Before he lost track of it, he saw its eyes fixed on his groin where it rested upon the heated sand. A moment later, Drake sat up straight, rigid with the sudden sensation. Something warm and wet sliding along his slit. To his surprise, the hide between his legs was not like the armor of most of his draconic body. It was instead sensitive and even slightly pliable. The kobold's tongue dragged the flesh up and away, pulling, lingering, then released it. Again. Then again.

Drake snaked his head down to watch. After a sniff, he knew the growing scent to be his own arousal. He knew her sex was female and that her slit was growing moist with a discharge not too dissimilar of odor. She hissed softly, gave him a coy look, and licked him again as he watched. His penis was beginning to emerge. Drake winced from the sensation. A guttural groan escaped him. It came out as a rumbling bellow. The sound was something a full-grown male dragon might involuntarily produce after extracting an embedded spear from a wound in his side. Pleasure and pain both.

For a moment, Drake worried what his tribe might think of this eroticism proceeding. He looked weak. He looked like a beast to be dominated by creatures lower on the food chain. A master mastered by his own servants. How could he lead his tribe when he was enslaved by the sensations they might provide him?

Another kobold was sneaking its way under his neck to join in the stimulation while the rest of the tribe crept closer. Drake dropped his neck to push the newcomer away, then rose to all fours. No kobold was tall enough to reach even his groin when he stood tall. Ignoring the pleasant warmth between his legs, he addressed his tribe.

"Chad," he uttered.

Although he could see every kobold present, the kobolds stepped aside to reveal a path to a single kobold. It was the relatively muscular kobold colored like the dark depths of the ocean. The one that had won the race.

The kobold approached. Another slapped him on the back with a coughing hiss. He whirled, eyes flashing, before continuing to advance.

"Lord Drake," he rasped. No longer did his voice even remotely resemble Chad's human one. Nonetheless, Drake sensed a lack of full deference from him. The human Drake would certainly not have picked up on the subtleties of body language and tone of voice. The dragon Drake knew now that he possessed some instinctual or supernatural ability to read these kobold creatures.

The individual wielding the greatest threat to his leadership would have to be brought low. Humiliation was in order.

"Congratulations Chad," Drake said, adopting an overly casual tone. "You won the footrace. Now you have won the honor of leading the efforts of pleasuring your master. What say you?"

Chad scratched at the scales of his hip. The natural motion of his tail slowed. Drake could imagine what he might be going through. Chad would know that he hated Drake as a person, hated Drake's past weakness, hated having to tolerate him because he was the friend of his girlfriend Olivia. At the same time, Chad would be feeling a kobold's pull to a dragon. Awe, infatuation, longing. Possibly even...more? How would Chad reconcile his mind and his feelings, his past and his present?

"Speak," Drake growled. At the word, he could practically taste Chad's compulsion to obey.

"Apologiesss. You...remember our passst, Dra--Lord Drake. I won't forget. You won't either. Ssstill..." He shrugged his little shoulders, whipped his tail. "I can't refussse what we are now. I can't...I can't help but want to ssserve. I hate it, but I want to ssserve you."

Good. "Then serve," said Drake, and lunged his foreleg forward to snatch up the blue kobold in his claws.

The others gasped as they instinctually crouched lower and bent forward at the waist - a ready posture. Drake rolled onto his back, letting his wings relax over the sand. A few kobolds in the way danced backward. One tripped on the bony, leading edge of his wing, before scrambling away. Drake gently tossed Chad onto his scaly belly. The kobold quickly stood up. Although the old Chad would have been irate at such treatment, Drake sensed only dismay and cowardice from the small creature on his belly. The transformation was remarkable.

Drake's large, clawed feet hung limp in the air. Between his legs, where the thick base of his long tail connected to his pelvis, his slit was parted by a pointed mound of dark red flesh that wanted to emerge into the air. Chad eyed it and froze. Drake sent a warning rumble through his body, causing Chad to almost lose his balance and fall. The kobold quickly scuttled forward to attend to Drake's member.

Each of Chad's small, four-fingered hands began to clumsily massage Drake's tip. Drake couldn't keep his back from arching away from the sand or his claws curling inward. Chad snagged at Drake's penis with his tiny claws to keep from slipping off. Far from cutting his flesh, the dull points magnified the wonderful tickling of his sensitive dragonhood.

"Yesss," Drake hissed as he pressed his snout and horns against the sand, fighting the tides of sensation that made him want to buck and thrust. "Mooore..."

"Of courssse, Lord Drake," came Chad's voice, now sounding smug. He sped up the massage. His hands compressed at the base and slicked upward, encouraging Drake's erection to its full size. Soon, with the obvious feedback of Drake's groans and shudders, he fell into the habit of pressing with his palms and arms but finishing the motion with the tips of his claws.

Another point of contact joined the first two upon his penis. At length, two more joined, and then Drake lost count. He finally flexed his neck to look at what was happening. Three kobolds were stroking his member, which was almost as tall as them. Their eager eyes were watching him for his response to their titillating motions.

Drake could both see and smell their arousal plain as day. Chad's little kobold penis had emerged. As had that of the purple-green kobold beside him. Olivia, the pink kobold, had joined her sometime-boyfriend in pleasuring Drake. The flesh of her female slit was subtly swollen and oozing a smell which Drake found a tad pungent but not enticing to him. Like Drake's, the kobold penises were slightly curved, tapered, and featuring a less prominent head than a human's. Of course, Drake's was a much deeper shade of pink, orders of magnitude larger, and had numerous small nubs along the half nearer to the base that provided some texture. The little pink kobold penises were pressed up against Drake's own, more than a little moist at their tips.

Drake did not find their sexual arousal surprising in the least. He was a magnificent dragon with a magnificent cock. The display he was providing to the kobold tribe put to shame any pornography he'd ever viewed.

"Mooore, mooore, get in theeere," he moaned between his strained hisses. "Use your claaaws..."

A fourth kobold squeezed into the circle around his penis. They squeezed and scratched it with vigor. Two of them managed the tip area, while two worked the thicker, textured portion toward the base. Drake heard their excited hisses becoming a kind of crooning noise. Instinctively, Drake knew it to indicate a deep, essentially mindless pleasure. He didn't stop them as one by one they began to grind their loins, males and females, against his cock as they massaged with their hands. Their breaths were hot against his exposed member. The purple-green one laid on its back so it could stroke his base with its feet while stroking its own penis with a hand.

The other kobolds of the tribe were gathering intimately close to his body as well. He could feel their light weights pressing the flight membranes of his wings into the sand, and their legs straddling his tail as it spasmed with the shocks of pleasure. Some pressed against the scaled armor of his rib cage as it expanded and relaxed with his breathing. Others still had scrambled onto his neck, though these risked being knocked over or tossed by the throes of his pleasure. One adventurous soul had even taken the very tip of Drake's tail into her warm passage. Drake cared not. He would not slow down or caution himself as he rode the sensations his tribe provided him. They could enjoy his body and be close to their master at their own peril.

Most of the time Drake's eyes were squeezed shut. In between those times, he caught glimpses of his kobolds. He had started an orgy. A wild, unrestrained, and scaly orgy. Tails writhed. Hissing and crooning abounded. The dull claws of toes and fingers rasped against scales or scratched uncontrollably in the dry sand. Every kobold was involved in some type of lewd act. The arousal scent was cloying in Drake's long nostrils. One was thrusting into another's slit as it licked ferociously between the legs of a third. The third one was stroking two kobold penises, one in each hand. One of these was lying on its side, one leg in the air, as it sucked on some other kobold's penis, who was in turn reaching up to lay a hand on Drake's cock-base.

One kobold pairing was quite impressive. The female lay on her back, rear raised high into the air, her tongue lolling from her mouth and a distant look in her eyes. The male stood over her, gripping her ankles, while he lapped at her slit. His erect cock ground against the underside of the female's tail as she rhythmically waggled it up and down against him.

Drake shuddered as one of his attendants did her best to take his tip into her mouth. Her tiny fangs were such an unexpected delight that even his wings thrashed for a second as the shudder traveled his body. The kobolds on his wings rolled and bounced. The kobold riding his tail was definitely thrown a good ten feet toward the waves. Drake watched as most of them changed partners. The horny creatures were so eager for sexual stimulation, they did not care whom they were with. Each became involved with the nearest kobolds in all possible ways: mouth, tail, hands, and feet.

Every now and then Drake heard them urging each other on. "Yesss, my brother," or "Harder!" Perhaps because of this frenetic impatience, the kobolds finished their fun before Drake. One after another, the squeals and high-pitched groans of the kobolds signaled their orgasms. The males and females both seemed well-matched, and afterward the females appeared just as spent as the males.

Like a tidal wave approaching the unyielding coastline, Drake felt his own orgasm approaching. Now, he threw away all his caution. He bucked. He growled through his gritted fangs. He snorted blasts of air at the kobolds near his face. His tail flailed with the pleasure, buffeting all the kobolds in that area before they could scurry away. Their yelps were lost in the chorus of hissing and crooning.

Drake was unable to control himself as the sexual fire in his dragonhood neared its peak. His upper body curled forward as he lunged a forepaw forth to grab the kobold sucking his tip. It was Olivia. With a needy growl, he flipped her upside-down and thrust her down toward the base of his penis. Her jaws were forced wide open by his throbbing red member. Her eyes bulged in her head and the loose skin of her neck stretched from the dragonflesh forced down her throat. Drake pulled her up about a foot and slammed her back down. Again, and again. She was gagging, sputtering through her nostrils, but Drake barely noted her distress. His orgasm had arrived.

His pelvis thrust upward toward the stars. Drake's tail, wings, and neck shoved against the ground, arching his entire back clean off the sand. The first blast of dragon-seed shot Olivia into the air. Viscous white fluid streamed out of her mouth and nostrils as she coughed. Other kobolds hurriedly rushed to his penis to stroke it with fervor. Drake groaned almost plaintively, like a great beast delivered a deathblow, as the orgasm racked his glorious body. His penis continued to pump fluid, spurt after spurt, easily a liter. His member was bathed in fire, his muscles locked up in the effort of channeling this unbearable orgasm. His hips thrust haplessly into the empty air while the kobolds did what they could to continue providing stimulation.

At last, at long last, he slumped down to the sand with a thump. He let the length of his snout rest in the sand, heedless of the sand particles that stuck to the side of his long tongue. Drake sighed out a slow, contented breath which was mirrored by most of the kobolds. They, too, found great pleasure in his release. Their satisfaction was intimately connected with his, as their draconic master.

Some part of Drake pushed him to crawl to the bonfire. It had died down considerably, though it still looked as though it would burn until the morning. He coiled his body partway around the fire once again. Most of the kobolds trailed after him, and most of these pressed their small forms against his own. No doubt feeding off his mood and energy, they curled up, snuggling against his limbs or with one another, as they made themselves comfortable for slumber.

Drake rested himself facing out to sea as he allowed his breathing to gradually slow. His chin sat in the sand, facing northeasterly out to the sea. The midnight blue of the skies was changing. Lighter tones were seeping out of the horizon. Dawn was but an hour or two away. Drake snorted softly. Plenty of time for a nap. And then...?

There were islands out there, he knew. Some close to shore, others hundreds of miles distant. Most were not regularly inhabited. There, if he established himself carefully and acted with precision, he and his tribe would not be bothered. He could ferry them across the sea, a few at a time. Perhaps he could even have the ones with a talent for it grow a garden. A tribute to the former Drake and that lesser life.

"Thank you, Lord Drake." The words came from the kobold slumped against his neck, as its eyes drifted closed.

"Sssweet...dreamsss..." said another, spread-eagled in the sand next to Drake's hind foot.

Drake blinked slowly then let his eyes drift closed. Contented, an inaudible rumble shook the sand with one of his great exhalations. Yes, his tribe had done well on their first day of service to him. He would continue to protect them, to provide for them, and to grow them. An exciting new albeit cloistered life awaited them. They would be alone but together, as dragon and kobolds, through the obstacles ahead.

But first, Lord Drake would have his rest.