The Dragon's Boytoy Knight - Ch00
#1 of Comm - For Engy
Sir Reginald has been captured by the dragon he was sent to slay and transformed into a feminized boytoy dragon, smaller than his new Master in every way. He is magically controlled to become a sex toy and servant for his new master.
**The Dragon's Boytoy Knight
Prologue
By: VeronicaFoxx
For: Engy**
Reginald struggled against shackles, though not physical ones. The bonds that held him were in his mind, and he despised himself for the weakness that kept him from throwing them off. He had been a knight, a paragon of prowess and righteousness, a hero of the people and a slayer of beasts. Yet now he stood still and silent at the orders of one such beast, made into a beast himself. His armor lay discarded around him, his weapons thrown to the side, his flesh bared to his new master, and there was not a thing he could do about it.
He had been proud of his former body, his rippling muscles and bronzed skin, but gone were the defining lines that had once shown his musculature. Blue scales covered him from head to toe, his torso slimmed, his hips widened, a bestial muzzle jutting from his face and a long, lithe tail from above his rear. He no longer had the body of a powerful champion and adventurer, but the body of a boy-whore. He didn't even have the horns that dragons were known for, but instead thin, twiggy crests. He could not even be proud of his new form.
His master, on the other hand, stood nearly twice his own height, golden scales gleaming and power obvious in every movement. Even the mechanical arm did not detract. It added a hint of mystery, for what could ever do such damage to a creature of this magnificence and strength? Certainly no mere knight, as had been quite adequately proven.
"So, now that we've settled your new place in the world," the lemon-hued dragon said, "why don't you try and think up a new name for yourself? I don't think Reginald really fits any more."
The former knight felt the pressure of command wash over him, and barely put up any resistance. It was pointless, as he well knew, but he was not yet broken. He had to at least put up a token fight to keep any shred of dignity he might retain.
"Regie," he answered after a moment. "It is a common peasant name, and a bastardization of my proper moniker."
"No, no, I don't think that's quite right either. Take your time and think up a better one. I'll ask you again later."
The now nameless sea-scaled dragon ground his teeth. He hated how easily his master could force his thoughts into the desired channels. He could not even think of himself as Reginald except for in the past tense, and it rankled even more than losing his proper form.
"Let's give you some incentive, and maybe a little inspiration. Come here and kneel, right here."
His master pointed a finger at the stone floor between his spread legs, and the transformed knight found himself hustling forward and dropping to his knees, pressing up against the edge of the throne-like seat upon which his master sat.
"Now, I'm sure you've been the object of desire for many a woman in the past, so I think you'll understand what I mean when I say this. If I have to give you directions, though, I'll be upset, so use your imagination if not. Worship me."
The slender twink ground his teeth again, but only for an instant. He could well imagine what his master desired, and set to it. He leaned forward to nuzzle against the hefty sack and limp yet sizable shaft between the golden dragon's legs, stroking his nose against them and inhaling the musky, masculine scent. He had previously enjoyed that prelude himself, but it was only the start, and he knew that as well.
A few passes, slipping his muzzle beneath those laden balls, kissing along the hardening length, then he brought a hand up to stroke at the thick maleness of his master. Meanwhile he brought his tongue to bear, lapping at the musky orbs beneath, lipping at them with care not to let his newly-sharp teeth graze them. He dare not try to suckle yet without some practice, though he knew that he would be getting that practice in time. Yet there was other practice that would be needful to undertake immediately.
His master was fully erect, and he gave a slow lap along the underside, drawing his tongue up to circle the tip and clean away the gathered pre-cum found there. Then his lips parted, his jaws held wide, his muzzle descended, and he slowly closed his mouth around the male tool. He was surprised to find the taste not quite as vile as he had imagined, nor the feel of it against his tongue and upper pallet as he gently closed his jaws.
He was not ignorant of technique, only untried with it, and hollowed his cheeks drawing slowly backwards until on the head of his master's cock remained in his mouth. He gave himself a pause to swallow nervously before pressing downwards, feeding himself the dragon's shaft until it hit the back of his throat. He was surprised to find that his lips did not quite kiss his master's groin even then, but hollowed his cheeks and pulled back once more. He brought up a hand to squeeze at the base, but found himself suddenly pushed away.
"You're very good at that," his master praised, and he felt a wash of satisfaction flow over him, no doubt forced upon him by the dragon's will. "I think that's got me slicked up enough for the moment. Now, take up the position you most prefer your females in when you would breed them. I think it'll be fun to see how you like the position when you're on the opposite side of it."
The once-human hung his head in shame, his cheeks heating as he turned and set himself on elbows and knees, facing away from his master. He had never degraded himself by consorting with any of the animalistic races, so his new tail confounded him, and he left it hanging limply behind him. He felt his master lift and shift it to the side and a silent command to keep it there.
"A proper bitch keeps its tail out of the way," the dragon advised.
He felt clawed hands grip his hips and an imposing pressure sliding against his rear. The soft whimper that thick tool, not even yet inside him, caused brought even more shame. It slid between his cheeks for a few strokes, bumping against the underside of his tailbase, then disappeared as did one of his master's hands. Then he felt pressure again, directly against the star of his anus. He let out another whimper, far less ashamed this time. He had never had anything like this happen, and he feared pain from it.
He did his best to relax, and was surprised when it caused only discomfort to have the tip press past his entrance. His muscles flexed involuntarily against the intruder, but it was not painful. His master pressed inwards, only a small thrust and soft, but it caused a further ripple of trepidation. Would the dragon force him to take the entire length? But no, not yet, it seemed. Instead the dragon pulled back, then pressed in again to a slightly greater depth. It was the oddest of sensations, a pressure that relentlessly forced itself inwards but without any cramping or other pain. Even the trembling of his entrance faded after a few minutes.
Then he felt firm, muscular hips pressing against his much plusher rear end, and looked back in surprise. His master was indeed buried to the hilt inside him. He could even feel the dragon's dangling sack pressing against the back of his own. Then the dragon flexed inside him, and it sent an entirely unexpected sensation through him. He glanced beneath himself and found his own shaft hard against his stomach.
"Let's take some time to enjoy this," his master told him. "You're going to like it much more than you ever expected."
The cerulean-hued dragon mentally cursed as he felt the pressure of mental control wash over him once more.
The End