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Greetings! Is it too on the (bunny) nose to post an egg laying story right before easter? Perhaps. But it's worth celebrating, as this month the whole Beastman collection is on sale at a special bundled price. Not only does it include Beastmen I, II and III but also all the collected shorts I've been posting across the internet involving that sweet anthro on human mpreg! Get it here-> (https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1142311) And if you're still not satisfied and want even more egg laying goodness, may I suggest The Male Mates of Dragons, the start of a new series concerning dragons forcing handsome men to lay their eggs. Get it here-> (https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/1137028)

As a special thank you for the wonderful support from the community, I've decided to post another one of the full stories from The Male Wives of Beastmen, The Lizard Chieftain. Here we have scalies, handsome men and egg laying goodness. Enjoy!

The Lizard Chieftain

The human village near the fetid rise was struggling. Long ago the town had been founded around a defensive keep, the stones had long ago fallen into disrepair and the keep sat empty. The village however built next to a rather strong smelling swampland had existed quite unchanged for several hundred years. Unfortunately, during a very difficult war between the undead and the human kingdom of Alnara, a terrible disease had appeared in the town and afflicted both the very young and very old. The village found itself facing a potential loss of life that would wipe them out in a generation, with no hope in sight.

There was a young man who had traveled to the village to help and his name was Grist. Solidly handsome in body with pleasing auburn hair, he had turned heads in the remote village straight away and was rapidly trusted by young mothers with their unfortunate, ill children. He had been educated in the capital, Viridia, in ways of medicine and tinctures but nothing he he had attempted had cured anyone of anything yet. Viridia itself had no more spare resources to send as it was fighting a warfront with the undead and so Grist found himself at a loss what to do to help the unfortunate people he had come to know and care for.

One rather hopeless evening as Grist wandered the swampy roads wondering what else he could possibly do, a very old woman approached him.

"I believe I can help the village," the old woman croaked at him, "but you must follow me to my house, in the mire."

"Who are you?" Grist said, "I don't recall you in town."

"I'm the wise woman of this village," Rista said, "I've been thinking alone in my house ever since the first child was struck down. It's taken me this long to come to a certain conclusion."

She brought him to her house filled with smoke and dried herbs. It looked as old and run down as the crumbling keep and her shelves were covered in many sealed alchemical bottles filled with who knows what. Grist knew enough to know that a wise woman's skills weren't always superstitious rubbish. Sometimes they knew things that were so old no one alive could still recall their origins, or local gods and powers that everyone else had forgotten. He was much more inclined to seriously consider their words than most, so he sat uneasily on her rickety wooden chair and listened to what she had to say.

"This is no ordinary plague," she said to him, "it's been born from a very dark magic. I believe it's an attack on us by the undead. Only the lizard men can help us then, as the magic of the undead comes from the dark depths of Ungun-ur's caverns. We must go to their chieftain and beg for his help to lift the curse."

"But Rista," Grist said, "you are very old, and likely to be sick soon yourself. It would be impossible to make the journey."

Rista narrowed her wrinkled eyes at him, she was nearly blind and slightly hard of hearing except when it was inconvenient to her.

"I suppose it's you who best put your life at risk then," Rista said, smiling slightly, "seeing as you're but a child."

"I'm not a child," Grist gently reminded her, "I'm from Viridia and I came to help. Now what should I know about these lizard men? Do they require anything to be brought as a gesture of peace? Do you know what they would want in return for their help?"

"Only yourself" Rista said, eyes gleaming, "my brother went to them and managed to save our village from a long ago calamity. You are much like him. He too went to the capital and fought in wars and tried to save us until finally, he came to me to get advice. And I told him what I tell you now, do as they say and this village will be saved and defended from further insult from the undead."

"Then I must go to the lizard men," Grista said, "as I have no other options and your people won't last much longer if I don't at least try."

"I'll give you this map," Rista said, "my brother made it, many years ago. Pay close attention and don't stray from the road."

With the map in hand, Grist gathered a modest satchel of things, and strapped them to his back. It was quite a trek into the swamp and a horse would have done him no good as the earth was very soft.

The map was drawn in a way that Grist found baffling, stones and trees had interchangable symbols. A large muddy swamp was an oddly shaped blob. And the houses that were drawn were no where to be found. After many long hours of walking circular in the swampy woods, Grist found himself stuck fast in the muddy mire.

"Damn!" he said, his boots rapidly sinking.

A slight chuckling came from the darkening swamp glades, it unnerved him.

"I can't die like this," Grist said miserably, "there must be a way!"

After some great struggle Grist managed to hop from the mud onto more solid land, though he had to leave behind his fine leather boots. Some more chuckling and shuffling came from the glade wood and Grist felt even more unnerved.

It was getting a dark and animal sounds were beginning to come from the darkening swampy forest. There were big predators in the woods, bugbears and fearsome large cats. It was something Grist had always feared, being eaten by a beast larger than himself. A truly miserable way to go.

"Having trouble?" the raspy voice said.

There was a strange thing behind him, so unusual looking that Grist let out a shout and fell down on his backside. There was a lizard man standing above him and Grist finally understood why they had so blunt a name.

"Are you," Grist said, "the lizard men that the villagers speak about?"

"Oh, yes," the raspy voice said, yellow eyes blinking, "though we call ourselves Are'she, the promised people."

"Promised people?" Grist said, scrambling onto his feet.

"We'll leave your shoes behind," the lizard man said, "as a gift to the gods of the swamp who almost took your life."

Grist swallowed thickly at the thought, "that's fine by me."

"You'd have found it easier to walk in the muck barefoot anyway," the lizard man said, "peculiar habit of your kind, to wear shoes in the wet."

"I suppose I didn't really think of it, I'm not familiar with swamps," Grist said, tetchily.

"My name is Arak'he and I'm the son of the chieftain, Orok'he," he said, "you are to be my guest. I know of the disease that haunts your village, though I'm sure my father would like to hear more of it."

"I can arrange that," Grist said.

As they walked through the woods it became apparent that 'village' meant something quite different to the lizard men then it did to humans and suddenly the symbols of the map became clear. There were thatched huts draped across the trees and stretched over what seemed incredible miles. There were no roads, only totems topped with animal skulls, and heaps of larger skulls stuffed inside of the trunks where a tree house may hang above. They were subtle and almost lost in the swamp green, Grist may have passed this way half a dozen times and not even know what it was he had been looking at until it was pointed out.

"What are those skulls," Grist said, "in the trunks there? Some animal?"

"The skulls of our ancestors," Arak'he said, "they keep us below as we keep them above."

"I see," Grist said, hesitantly.

It was a grim habit, in his estimation and made the swamp seem every more eerie than before.

"Here is the chief's hut," Arak'he said, "I will carry you up top, it'll be faster."

"Really, I'd rather clim-" Grist let out a yelp as he was tossed over the shoulder of a lizard man.

The creatures were taller than an average human man and Grist noted that they were of exceptional strength. Big bodied and muscled, with large tails and soft scales they felt cool and supple under his fingers. They didn't feel slimy at all, though Grist wasn't sure where his mind had gotten that impression from anyway. They were pleasantly dry and dressed in decorated loincloths with thickly ornate woven necklaces. A handsome looking, if wild people.

Once they had reached the door of the chieftain, Grist was put down in front of its archway. It was elaborately woven and he began to make sense of the architecture around him. The more woven and decorated the hut, likely the more important the person was who resided within, even if the exterior held nothing that Grist would have ever recognized as wealth.

"Come inside, milk one," the chieftain hissed.

There was a heavy flap of some sort of beast skin that covered the inner doorway. Grist was gently herded inside and from the dim light he got the most amazing sense of wonder from the interior. Everything was so elaborately woven and decorated in tiny, ornate beads he wasn't entirely sure where to look as they shimmered and glittered with beautiful woven designs.

"Impressed?" the chieftain said, "your kind show so much about their faces, it's hard to miss."

Oro'ke was as large and muscled as his son with a strong, reptilian jaw and a protruding set of tiny teeth. He had the appearance of being in a constant state of mirth and would have been absolutely terrifying on the battlefield with such an alarming smile.

"Quite impressed," Grist said, "it's so ornate. It must be a skill your people honed over centuries. The beads are very beautiful."

"It took thousands and thousands of years for the home arts to be what they are now," the chieftain said, "set down your supplies and rest your milk skin. Tell me of your troubles, in great detail so that I may see if we can help you."

Grist unstrapped his pack and set it aside. It was sequestered away by another lizard tribesmen who came out of the shadows.

"I'll start from the first signs of the illness," Grist said.

When he had explained the sudden onset of the fever that wasn't alleviated by any known medicine and the gnawing hunger and burning agony across the skin that the afflicted possessed the chieftain's eyes gleamed with a knowing glint.

"I believe we have encountered this before," the chieftain said, "its' a very dangerous disease, born from a dark fungal magic. The undead like to test their weapons before unleashing them on their living brethren, I wouldn't be surprised if they hoped to clear out the human village to make way for another attack on the magical city of Viridia."

"Are you sure it's magic?" Grist said, befuddled, "The priest did nothing and their healing arts are filled with counter curses!"

"This is because it's a magic born from the dark places of Ungun-ur," the chieftain said, "and only the dark can fight it. We can help you, but it will be dangerous."

Grist steeled himself, "I'll do anything to help the village."

"Oh, not dangerous for you," the chieftain chuckled, "but for us. We merely wish for a fair exchange for risk. You see, our numbers dwindle in this age of conflict. We lack for much, we lack our milk ones that we had before. They were stolen from us, murdered by the undead when they tried unsuccessfully to take our land. We kept the milk one's skulls as we mourned them deeply and their sacred spirits are at one with our tribe and even now give us wisdom. But all the wisdom of the world won't save us as we grow old and die and our numbers dwindle."

"What could I possibly do to help?" Grist said, perplexed.

"I believe it was Rista who sent you, she had a brother who lived with us. And he was one who died in a terrible attack. Perhaps she heard his lamentations on our behalf and sent you for a purpose," the chieftain said.

The chieftain's long pink tongue flicked out and licked his sharp and pointed teeth. This greatly alarmed Grist who jolted, uncontrollably in fear.

"You misunderstand," the chieftain said, "we don't wish you any harm, milk one."

"Milk one," Grist said, "that's a strange name to call us. My name is Grist and I'm a healer employed by the capital city."

"And the village is dying," the chieftain said, "and so are we. And now you can save both. Will you?"

The face of Orok'he was trapped in a strange, gleaming smile. But Grist could tell that there was a sorrow there for something. And he realized there were very few happy sounds in the village, almost as if it were in mourning.

"I don't know," Grist said, "explain?"

"Stay for a while," the chieftain said, eyes lighting up eagerly, "bare us one egg season. Then if you wish, you can go."

"What do you mean bare?" Grist said.

"I mean, hold our eggs in your stomach, keep them warm," the chieftain said.

Clutching the mat under his hand, Grist resisted the instinct to run. It was an extremely strange request but the village was dying, life was fading. If the lizard men could help perhaps it was worth entertaining their strange notions.

"Is it dangerous? Painful?" Grist said.

"No, not at all," the chieftain assured him, "and if you agree your village will get the help it needs, straight away."

There really was no other answer he could give when a village faced such a dire situation.

"All right," Grist said, perplexed as to what he was agreeing to.

"We thank you, milk one, in ways you can't begin to fathom for this blessing. Normally there would be a grand celebration to mark the occasion," the chieftain said, "but with the undead lurking at the edge, we shall move in secret. Come to the room at the back, there is a tea to drink in there. Do so, and then I'll show you what you can do to help everyone. And I promise, it won't be disagreeable."

There was a strange smelling cup on the woven wood table. When Grist tipped it up he nearly sneezed from the strong smell but he still managed to drink it down. Immediately he felt a strange heaviness throughout his limbs and a distinct, hazy feeling This all cleared away very suddenly and instead it seemed the warmth and heat had settled in his stomach. He gasped when the heat spread through all his limbs, as it wasn't anything like he had ever felt before. He shuddered and twitched and found himself almost desperate to take off his clothes. He was completely nude and didn't feel a scrap of shame as Orok'he sat upon his rug and watched him undress with his yellow, glowing eyes.

Flopping onto a mat, Grist felt himself grow painfully, excruciatingly aroused. He grabbed his own penis that was standing at attention and in a half haze state began jerking himself off. The chieftain merely watched him with great interest, he remained poised and upright on his mat. Grist was entirely the opposite, he writhed and trembled and felt strange. He could swear he felt himself twitching somewhere inside, longing for something more.

The feeling grew so strong he began to beg.

"Please, please!" he began to moan, not even sure what he was asking for.

"Say what you wish," the chieftain said, eyes glinting.

"I don't know what I wish!" Grist said, eyes wide, "I don't know."

"You want something," the chieftain said, "and this is what we want in return. Feels good doesn't it? There's another thing that feels even better."

The chieftain then got down onto his hands and legs and in the most reptile movement Grist had ever seen, the lizard man swerved and bobbed.

Grist was still holding onto his over sensitive penis, panting with his mouth slightly open. Orok'he darted very close in an incredibly fluid movement. He was on top of him, the smooth scales rolled across his over heated skin, cooling him immeasurably.

"In the old days we took so many milk ones," the lizard rasped, "with our teas and kindness. They'd get down on their knees and beg. Ah, it inflames me still just thinking of it! And here you are, milk one, not knowing what to ask for. All you have to do is beg for us, beg for my rut and my eggs in your gut.

"I'm begging," Grist said, eyes rolling back in his head as his back arched, "gods I'm begging for you! Whatever you are, whatever you can do! I feel...my insides feel..."

"Yes milk one, that's the spirit," the chieftain hissed and rasped, "spread your legs. Good, good, now take my hot red barbs inside your tiny milking hole."

Grist didn't recognize the words until it was too late to do anything about them. Not that he would have anyway, the lizard man was swooping over him, darting and bobbing as he mated. Sliding his thick, bright red penis inside Grist's twitching orifice. And the barbs! They were like tiny pleasure dots against his insides, releasing a soothing, arousing venom.

"Ah!" Grist cried, grabbing the arm of the lizard man.

It wasn't painful in the slightest, he was being mounted and pierced quite literally. His body opened up like a tender flower, as Orok'he slid in with glorious ease. Grist felt his mind go blank from the pleasure and as the thrusting grew in intensity so did his enjoyment of the act. The barbs were frangible and bent and pierced him as they slid in and out, he was full of their lustful venom until he could barely think of anything at all but the feeling of a lizard cock.

"Ah! Ahh!" Grist cried out, eyes wide.

He felt the cooling tongue of a lizard scrape against his cheek and felt his body trembling wildly underneath of him. He'd never slept with a man in his life and had barely touched a woman outside of a few fumbles in adolescence and here he was, being mounted by a lizard man with a barbed cock. And he loved it.

Once Orok'he was deep inside he settled the barbs in Grist's tender flesh. They were stuck together, helplessly one creature and Grist began to pant, he was expecting something more and he was not disappointed.

"There you are milk one," the lizard man said, congenially, "now you're going to be filled up with spunk. Our smell together means its mating season, the whole tribe will use you like this. Can you feel it? Your guts are churning with excitement."

"Ah! Oh! It feels so good," Grist said, eyes clouded in a pleasurable haze, "are you- what are you doing? Are you laying eggs in me?"

The lizard man chuckled, "that I am. Enjoy your clutch, your body wishes for it more than anything and even laying them later will be pure pleasure."

"I- no. I'm not sure, please!" Grist said, unnerved by the thought.

But as the lizard rotated his hips, Grist didn't have much more of a complaint to make. He began to feel it, as the lizard bobbed and writhed while stuck inside of him. Grist could feel his abdomen swelling just a bit, every so slightly with a round of semen. Or perhaps, it was the slimy mess that would turn into eggs in his gullet.

"Oh noo," Grist moaned, legs trembling, "I can't stop cumming. I can't stop-"

Grist's eyes rolled back into his head as the lizard man spewed thick goop into his insides. It was the most pleasurable thing he had ever felt, and he never wanted it to stop.

After his initial mating, Grist found himself touching his rounded abdomen still painfully aroused. The chieftain was pressed up against his back and flicked his long, red tongue against his ear.

"Milk one," Orok'he said, "you can feel the pleasure of the name now with my eggs in your gut."

The lizard's clawed hands pinched Grist's nipples. He felt himself tremble and could feel the milk squirt from his swollen tits. It must have been the venom, it was having such a strange effect. His body was a breeding ground for the creatures and everything felt so good. He couldn't stop.

"Ahh!" Grist cried, as his tits were squeezed and milk squirted from them.

Once Orok'he finally, gently slid out of Grist's swollen orifice he flicked his tongue into the air as a signal for the others to approach.

"That's a pretty belly," the chieftain said, "the others will fill it up even more."

"Others?" Grist said, he was still somewhat in a daze.

Grist could feel his hole twitching eagerly, as if his body could smell the approaching lizard men already even if his eyes couldn't see them. Grist's body twitched at the thought of being mounted again, he didn't know this kind of thing was possible. What a strange turn of affairs to use human men as willing vessels.

"Why do you mate with human men?" Grist said, twitching helplessly on his stomach, "Surely women would make more sense?"

"Human men are different, they have big spaces inside. Even bigger than milk women. We loved the milk ones even when they were an ancient race and lured their men in with tea and knowledge. They came to us willingly then, perhaps they'll come to us willingly someday again," the chieftain said.

From the shadowy depths of Orok'he's hut, two lizard men made their way towards Grist with their spiked cocks already erect..

"I will have the milk one with great joy," one of the other lizard men said, "I need to lay a clutch."

"I wish to as well," the other lizard man said.

"One at a time," the chieftain said, "we only have this milk one here for now. We must be gentle and soothe him, make sure he knows that laying eggs for us is a feeling nothing else can give him."

The other lizard crowed around. One reached out for him and Grist couldn't help but pull back nervously.

"It's all right milk one," the lizard said, in a soothing tone.

It was almost hypnotic and Grist found himself being calmed by his sing-song hissing rasp and rubbing up against the strange, soft lizard body.

"Heh, look at him," the other lizard man said, filled with pride, "he's already so malleable to our ways. I missed milk ones, they're so affectionate."

The lizard man gently licked Grist's cheek, and then to Grist's immense surprised reached out and grabbed his cock. The feeling of such a strange skin against such a private place made him jolt but the feeling was incredible.

"This makes them so happy," the lizard man said, "they open up so softly afterwards."

The other lizard men began pinching and squeezing his tits, forcing him to squirt milkl in a most pleasurable way.

"Ahh!" Grist cried, body twitching and cumming.

"Heh, what a sweet milky," the other lizard said.

Grist cried out again, his body shook. He was being milked and caressed by a lizard man.It took little convincing before he was back on his belly his ass raised in the air.

The lizard man flicked his tongue around his teeth, then got down on all fours. He bobbed and weaved, it must have been some kind of strange mating dance, and then the lizard man crawled swiftly onto Grist's back. Pressed down with the smell of cool, clean scales and hot wet sex, Grist was trapped by the pleasurable barbs once again. His hole was practically dripping from spunk and he began to pant wildly, as he was mated by a lizard.

"Ahh!" Grist cried, "what are you doing to me? I don't understand!"

"We're filling you up," the lizard said, "with our young. And when you squat them out, you'll feel the best thing you've ever felt in your life. And then, if you wish it, we'll fill you up again. For always."

The lizard hissed, then he rotated his hips. The barbs felt so good, they felt so right.

Grist shook all over, he came again and again. It was like a stuttering cadence, completely obliterating any thought he had. When one lizard man was done and gently pulled out, another quickly bobbed and danced and Grist felt himself filled with thick, barbed lizard dick again.

Once he was finally released, Grist was oolled over onto his back. The three lizard men looked at his swollen and gaping hole. It must have been a mess but Grist felt nothing but the most intense pleasure. He panted slightly as they gently prodded its swollen edges.

"Oh yes, this one will be good," one lizard said, "I'm going to get on top of him again."

"He's ripe for another mating," the other lizard said.

"His clutches are going to be big and healthy," the chieftain said, "this milk one is excellent. Rista was good to send us such a lovely human man."

The lizard man climbed on top and held Grist's weak legs aloft. He pressed down with his huge, red barbed penis and dove into Grist's moistened, weeping hole.

"Ahh!" Grist cried, "I don't want you to stop. Don't ever stop!"

"We won't let you stay empty for long, milk one," the chieftain chuckled.

It was days later when the breeding stopped. Sequestered away in Orok'he's private hut, away from the main village Grist felt his stomach swell to exceptional proportions.

"You're village is doing well," the chieftain said, "one of our warriors died in the acquisition of the counter curse from the dark elves in the deep depths but we knew what might happen when dark magic was challenged. Our tribe has made a large bonfire and we've been appealing to the gods and ancestors, they have returned with blessings."

"Is that what the smell is?" Grist said.

He still felt very vague, almost drowsy. It was deeply pleasant but Grist knew it was a somewhat unnatural state. Apparently being bred had strong chemical reactions. The tea had actually kept his mind far more alert and active than it would be otherwise, he had been told. Human men fell under the spell of lizard venom in quite an extreme way without it.

Shuffling on his knees towards the chieftain, Grist clutched his overly large stomach in his arms.

"We have also built your nest," the chieftain said, "and soon you'll be squatting out your young. You may leave if you wish after or stay, it's up to you."

"I could go, if I wanted to?" Grist said.

"Of course," the chieftain said, "that was our agreement if you had one clutch."

Even the thought of being filled again made Grist's hole twitch but he just wasn't sure deep in his heart. He knew his mind would clear a little when he had laid his clutch and vowed to wait until then to make his decision.

When the day came to lay his eggs, he was carried by a lizard man to the hut as he could barely walk he was so huge. There was a central nest built with great woven reeds and it was exceptionally beautiful in design and decorated with all sorts of large clay beads.

Put in the center, Grist could feel already the eggs positioning themselves to exit his body. He trembled a little, unsure of how things would go.

"Just sit for a moment," the chieftain said, "your instincts will do the rest. Then you'll lay for us, just as you ought to."

"I don't know about this," Grist said.

But then it began, a strange rippling feeling in his abdomen and he couldn't say much after that.

The pleasure was unspeakable, it was so foreign and such a strange feeling as the egg was pushed out his drooling hole that Grist couldn't even put words to it. He convulsed, splattering cum from his erect penis and then, felt the waves again all through his abdomen and spurted another egg from his moist orifice. Again and again, they came until Grist had fallen forward on his elbows and was letting out soft, low moans.

The lizard men were gathering the eggs up eagerly, putting them into well shaped stacks. Wiping them off with decorated linen cloth and rubbing them adoringly.

Finally, when the last one had been expelled from his quivering, moist overstretched hole, the chieftain gathered Grist up and laid him down on a clean mat to recover.

"What was that," Grist said, breathless, "that feeling?"

"What you can feel for always if you stay with us," the chieftain said, hopeful, "our young exiting your body. I've been told it's a profound experience."

Grist's body twitched and trembled, he couldn't think but he could long for that feeling again and again. He never wanted it to stop. The thought of not ever having it again,was unthinkable.

Once cleaned up and a woven belt put in place around his waist as his only clothing, Grist was permitted to wander the connected huts in the chieftain's bower. They were all very pretty, and lizard men occupied every one of them, sometimes in groups.

They all seemed quite happy to see him and offered him tours of their homes and libations of anything he wished for. Food, drink and beaded jewelry was foisted upon him, he left their homes well fed and quite decorated.

"Milk ones like our cooked food," one lizard man had said, "they seem a little put off by the raw."

"Yes, I could see that," Grist said, eyeing some still twitching insects on a stone plate.

"But the grub roast is very good," the lizard man said, holding out a stick of cooked, fat insects.

Normally, perhaps Grist would have refused but he closed his eyes and took a bite. He was surprised, it was really very good and so well seasoned he wouldn't have guessed what kind of meat he had just eaten.

"See? Taste nice, yeah? Eat up, milk one," the lizard man said.

After a week of recovery, it was time to make his decision. Grist was sat before the chieftain on an elegantly decorated mat. His woven belt was soft against his flat stomach and he was draped in their beautiful bead work. The lizard men had gathered from all over the village and in the hut there was quite a crowd. The chieftain looked at him with a heavy lidded gaze and his eerie smile, there was no distinct emotion on his face. At least none that Grist could discern though he was still no expert in lizard men.

"What is your decision?" the chieftain said, "what choice shall we witness here today?"

The lizard men all crowded around, eager to hear his decision.

"You've all shown me such hospitality," Grist said, "and a world I hardly knew existed. You saved the town, word from Rista came back in confirmation. But I'm not from their village, I'm from the capital. It was a difficult decision to make, I have much to lose or gain in the making of it."

The chieftain was still impassive in the face.

"So, you leaving?" he said, at last.

"No," Grist said, "I believe I'll stay."

The lizard men let out a strange cackle, a trilling call and many other odd sounds that were in some imitation of a whoop of jubilation. They crowded around Grist and nosed his cheek, some even gently licked his face with the very tip of their tongue. It would be a struggle to learn all their names but Grist knew he'd get them right eventually. The chieftain looked overjoyed, and Grist was certain that if lizard men could cry, there were definitely the beginnings of tears in his eyes.

The lizard men flourished in the coming years and the undead were driven back to their cold kingdoms in the deepest north. The magical capital city of Viridia had no idea that part of the war had been won by a young man who had been brave enough to be mounted by lizard men and squat out their eggs.

FIN