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Looking down at the hill, Galan enjoyed the beautiful summer day, a light breeze making his robes flutter around him. He'd chosen this place for a reason; the spell he was about to cast required the vacant space. It was the ideal day for casting, and besides, he was to ride a massive mount through the air and into town where all could see him. That would certainly show his master up for holding him back all these years!

He had been working under his master Eroan for almost ten years now, and the older elf had hardly let him practice any spells. He'd been forced to spend most of his days doing menial tasks like cleaning stables, preparing meals, and endless hours of mediation and self-reflection. After all that time, he'd had enough of waiting and wanted more.

This particular tome was found in his master's drawer, after sneaking the key from Eroan's belt while he was sound asleep. He knew such action was drastic and could have him banished from his master's service had he been several years younger. But he'd been with the old elf for a long time now, and such an infraction would not result in his discontinued training. Besides, he was only 'borrowing' the tome to show his master that he was ready for more complex material. He was taking initiative. His master had always said he lacked something to get him over the threshold of learning more potent spells. This must have been what the old elf meant!

Galan had spent the afternoon looking through the grimoire to find the right spell to prove his worth. It had to be something truly flashy for his plan to succeed. Something everyone would see. At last, he settled on the perfect incantation, one that would summon a powerful mount that would be loyal to him and allow him to ride through town in plain view of everyone, even his sleepy master. And this wasn't to be just any ordinary mount. Anyone could summon a horse, a riding dog, a bull. Galan had something very special in mind

He prepared the summoning circle down to the last letter, not wanting anything to go wrong lest he mess up and spend another ten years mucking out stalls or whatever other menial tasks his master would have him do. The circle, the weather, his use of the elvish tongue, everything had to be perfect, down to the last detail. If he cast it right, he would summon a loyal dragon mount, one that would follow his every command. He would be the talk of the town! Not even the old wizard would fail to notice a massive tame dragon gliding through town, ridden by his more than capable apprentice!

He read the words, emphasizing every syllable, every inflection perfectly. At last, he raised his hands into the sky, expecting a crackle of energy to come down and hit the center, to summon his new loyal beast. He waited...one minute...then two...

Nothing. Galan frowned at the empty summoning circle. Was it supposed to take this long? He looked over the book in confusion, wondering where he'd gone wrong. It must have been something simple, right? He'd been so careful!

In frustration he walked into the circle, looking for any mark that might have been out of place. Too late he realized his mistake. Galen was suddenly hit with a massive bolt of energy, knocked onto his ass as the power of his spell surged through him, shaking him to the core. He lay there prone for a number of minutes, bothered by a strange tingling in his hands that did not subside. How could be have been so careless?

He went to stand up, feeling a little lightheaded and dizzy from the display of power. His hands were really starting to itch now, and Galan scratched them, trying to alleviate the sensations. The skin felt dry, and as he rubbed it felt as though bits were peeling away. Frowning, he looked down at his hands, not expecting the horror that awaited. The skin had started to peel away, like a layer of dead burned-off flesh. But underneath, instead of the normal flesh or even reddened skin, was bright green, something that did not belong on an elf!

Galan grimaced as the skin underneath started to thicken and harden, taking on a pattern that looked like scales. He looked on helplessly as his fingers bulged outwards, getting thicker, his nails sharpened as more of his elven flesh peeled away. Was he...but there was no way!

Too late, he realized his mistake. In order for the spell to work, there had to be a beast in range that could be transported here. And given the size of the circle, it was unlikely that one would be near his sleepy town. He recalled the words of the spell once more. One old lesson filtered into his head, one his master had taught him early on. The law of conservation of mass, that something could not be created from nothing. The spell had no dragon to summon, so it was simply making one in its place. And Galan was to be the beast!

Desperately, he tried to exit the circle, to grasp the grimoire and find a counterspell before he changed too much. As he hit the edge of the circle he fell backward, as though he'd hit a wall. The slow realization that he was now a part of the spell crept over him. The summoning circle was meant to contain the beast until the spell had run its course and the dragon trapped within became a tame mount.

Trying to get up again and force his way out, Galan paused as he caught another glimpse of his hands. His thumbs were slowly moving higher up his palm while the remaining digits were growing thicker, save his pinky fingers, which were dissolving into the flesh of his hand. The resulting claws were massive, growing thicker and sharpening while maintaining that greenish tinge that was covering his skin with scales. His elvish skin was peeling away faster now, skin and hair falling away as green scales began to overtake his hands and slowly crawled up his arms. His palms were becoming rough, thick pads, and, in horror, he realized that the draconic form he'd been cursed with lacked even workable digits! This was so embarrassing!

Against his better judgment, Galan screamed for help, hoping someone, anyone would pass by and hear his cries. Perhaps they would even be able to work a spell in the grimoire to counteract his predicament. But he had chosen his place too well; there wasn't another humanoid around for many miles. No one could help him as he was forced to change against his will!

His cries were interrupted by a pain erupting from his shoulder blades. Kneeling over with a groan, Galan could feel his bones snap and stretch as something poked at the flesh on his back. It literally tore out of his skin, pressing painfully against his robes as if seeking release. In horror, he realized that the growths themselves were forming protrusions of flesh at the tips that almost felt like his own fingers!

The scales were crawling up his arms now, and Galan felt his muscles bulge as they expanded, too thick for the sleeves of his robes as those began to tear away from the force of his growing arms. With sudden clarity, Galan realized he had no idea how big he was to be as a dragon, and the thought scared him. Yet, he was inevitably to find out as his shoulder blades ached once more. Galan felt them rotate forward, elbows sinking into the growing flesh around his flanks. He truly was becoming a beast!

Another groan escaped his pained lips as something pressed out his back, between the newly-formed protrusions poking at the fabric of his robe. They quickly ran all down along his back, becoming what Galan could only guess to be some sort of draconic spines. The discomfort was further extended by his chest expanding, his stomach bulging outwards with fat and muscle. Strangest still was when his spine started to stretch, his back getting longer as what felt like his tailbone pushed out above the skin.

Throughout the changes, Galan felt something strange, a sensation centered in his crotch that confused him. It reminded him of how he'd felt seeing some of the human women in the village, a sensation emanating from his elf-hood. Yet, what was possibly arousing about the situation? Yet as he continued to grow, his skin peeling away to produce more scales, tail, and wings growing against the frail fabrics of his clothes, he couldn't imagine anything stimulating his modest member more. Despite the bizarre nature of the situation, he couldn't deny that he was a little curious. He wanted to touch it but quickly blushed in embarrassment from the intrusive thoughts. Besides, what would the master think of him playing with himself like a beast?

Growing feet were stretching apart his sandals, the greenish scaled skin tearing them easily, allowing his firm, hardened draconic feet to rest on the grassy plain. His pinky toes dissolved into the flesh of his foot, the heel stretching back as his lower leg lengthened, his upper legs flattening to merge with the flesh of his still expanding stomach. The scales on his belly were lighter green, thicker like hardening plates over where his pecs and chest used to be. By this juncture, there was so little left of Galan's elvish form!

Galan blushed as his ass started to grow bigger, tail making a tear in the back of his robe as it struggled to break free. He could see the thing now, green and scaled, wriggling like a snake. His robes would not last much longer if he kept growing. Worst of all was his cock, demanding attention in his britches as it, too, seemed to grow in tandem with his increasing-beastly form. Galan still wondered what it would be like to touch it, but did his best to keep pushing those impure thoughts down. He couldn't give in like this! He had to fight!

Yet, it didn't seem like he'd be able to hold back much longer. His still-elven cock was much larger, much harder than should have been possible, and the cock head was rubbing erotically against the fabric of his robes. Though he had no means to touch it, he still felt the familiar tingle in his maleness that signaled the onset of orgasmic release. He couldn't believe he was getting so aroused by such a transformation. Yet, the sensations of his cock rubbing up and down against his clothing while his body became more and more like that of a dragon were powerfully arousing. Galan flushed in embarrassment as he felt his cock surge a final time, moaned as he uncontrollably shot load after load of off-white spunk into his underdrawers.

With an ear-splitting tear, he felt the things on his back rip the robes apart. They fell useless to the ground, his scaly back exposed as the massive protrusions of bone grew long, adorned with spindly, unruly fingers, claws forming at the end much like his current draconic digits. He felt a fine layer of webbing spreading between them, restricting their range of motion as they ran down the length of his back and formed draconic wings. His back spines were developing in a similar fashion, a fine layer of webbing growing in between them, making them look like some sort of crest or frill.

In fear, Galan realized that his neck was much more flexible than it had been, that it had started growing without him realizing it, making his head feel hilariously small. He tried to cry out but the sound came out gurgled, distorted. With that came a feeling of despair as he realized his vocal cords were changing. Even if he could get to his book he had no chance of reading the words that would halt his terrifying transformation. He could at least turn his head backward 180 degrees to better view the changes happening to his body, however. Everywhere his clothing was sloughing off, exposing his pale flesh that was steadily peeling off to make room for the relentless scales.

A deep-seated growl escaped his lips as his backside continued to thicken, the muscles around his hips and butt cheeks stretching apart the fabric. His posterior was so huge, far larger than the rest of him! He blushed in embarrassment once more as his widening rear end began to pull on the fabric of his britches, the one article of clothing he still had covering his green-scaled body. His tail had pushed up over the waistband and was getting longer and more massive with each breath he took. He shivered, feeling his anus moving up further away from his now weighty balls and settling under his thickening tail. His clenching hole was rubbing against the taut fabric of his britches, his hips putting on more muscle and fat while his backside sloped like the beast he was slowly becoming. Hips and buttocks pushed painfully against the fabric before a loud rip resounded in his ears and Galan's massive draconic hindquarters burst out into the warm spring air.

Widening hips sank into the flesh of his flanks as his stretching back started to ache, the position more comfortable for four-legged travel. He could feel his testes swelling, blushing as he craned his neck to look at them. The thick, hairless green orbs were seemingly filling with seed, fueling the growth of his still mostly elvish prick. Its tip was leaking clear fluids insistently, even though he had ejaculated not moments ago. Galan winced and tried to close his nostrils as the rank stench of his ejaculation burned into them, from both the tip of his cock and the copious spunk he'd shot onto his torn-off robes. Still, he was in need of orgasm again, yet no longer possessed the means to stimulate his member, lacking even the robes over his body.

Still, Galan watched with fascination as the member's head began to grow pointy, foreskin peeling away exposing the reddening flesh underneath. The head widened underneath, spines growing down the length as sit leaked a thick stream of clear fluid, an indication of his heightened arousal. The base bulged with bulbous orbs, looking more fit for a canine to keep himself inside a mate. Or a mate inside of his posterior, his changing sensibilities seemed to reason.

By now, his body was massive, still growing out towards draconic proportions, the size of the mount he wished he'd summoned. Galan could only watch helplessly as scales raced up his thickening neck, spines aching up the back of his head as hair fell away in a heap around his ripped clothes. His cheeks ached as several more spines burst forth bloodlessly, steadily thickening as the dimensions of his face began to change and he prepared to lose his one remaining human feature.

A tingling on his nose made him sneeze, nostrils flaring as the greenish scaled skin spread over them. Galan closed his eyes, tearing up as his lenses changed to slitted pupils and a third membrane grew over them. He didn't want to open them just yet, didn't want to see the changes to his face as his snout grew longer, sharp teeth tearing through his gums while his tongue forked out like a reptile's. Tiny bumps erupted above his eyes as more spikes grew there, and the spines of his back fin spread up his neck and on top of his head, connected with that thin layer of webbing.

Something bizarre began building up in his throat, like a bad bout of gas. Galan found himself in need of a hearty belch, as embarrassing as that would be. But no one else was around, and he couldn't hold it in. He let loose his gas, shocked as the reflex shot out a blast of flame that would have destroyed the inside of his mouth had the changes not progressed as far as they had. He was breathing fire!

All the while, his member drooled out thick streams of pre, as though taunting him. Galan longed to touch it, to release the tension that had been building up in those massive green orbs. Even if he did dare to do such a thing, how would it be possible? He'd seen equines do it, bobbing their members against their flanks to pleasure themselves. Yet that did not seem possible for his new form. Still, his nostrils flared, drinking in the scent of draconic perfume that his member was leaking. He was so close, he could almost taste it...

That gave him an idea, one he'd seen canines on the farm doing but would never dare to do himself. How could he? But his mind was getting clouded now, images of males and their cocks overcoming his resolve, ending with draconic members much like the one he now sported. No matter how much resolve he had, Galan simply couldn't hold off the animalistic need to breed. Part of him knew he needed to resist, but even the logical part of his mind told him he was doomed to change, to become a beast, so why not enjoy it while he still retained his facilities?

With that allowance in mind, he craned his neck down, moving his jaw towards his prize. Arching his hips, his growing body was found to be surprisingly flexible as his seeking tongue finally connected with the tip of his aching dragon rod. The sensations were better than anything he could have ever imagined. Even just teasing the tip with his tongue sent shivers of pleasure through his still-growing body. Eagerly, he lapped at his member a little more before coiling his tongue around his girth, pulling his draconic cock closer to his maw. Barely taking the time to savor the salty tangy flavor of his pre in his mouth, Galan was too desperate to get his maw around it, to make himself cum. He didn't care if it was unnatural for him to pleasure himself like this, he simply needed release.

Finally, with little effort, he felt his cock being adequately stimulated by the inside of his warm muzzle. He wasn't used to taking cock in his maw, let alone having his own member engulfed in the warm embrace of a mouth, and the sensations nearly shocked him. Yet, the surprisingly savory flavor drooling from his cock spurred him on. He sucked greedily, drinking down the ample streams of pre, all the while enjoying the waves of pleasure building in his loins and the shaking of his heavy balls. He was getting so close, he just had to suck a little more...he just needed to cum...then he could think...

Galan felt himself cascading over the edge as hot streams of draconic seed shot into his waiting gullet. He couldn't roar as his mouth was full of cock, but he growled silently as spurts of cum shot into his gullet, distracted only by how violently his cock shot and how every fiber of his being became awash in pleasure from the orgasmic release. He nearly choked on the sheer volume his massive balls were producing, the speed at which his shots of cum were forced into his maw. The taste had been off-putting at first, thick and tangy and salty. But the more he sucked down, the more the flavor grew on him, and the more he milked his cock for any last drops. Galan became excited about his new form for the first time, truly, with the realization that he could pleasure himself anytime like this if he wanted!

His mind washed away with that last orgasm, the sensations of release wiped away any elven thoughts he might have still harbored. He was a mighty virile male dragon, and the stench of elf and the cum soaked rags beneath his massive paws meant nothing to him. He roared, a streak of fire signaling his presence to the world, burning off the residual strings of sticky fluid that still hung to his maw.

Galan shook his head, the barrier seemingly down now that the changes had been completed. But the elven Galan was hardly aware of such things anymore. He stretched his wings, catching an updraft as he easily lifted off the ground, a clear destination in the back of his mind. He had been summoned, had a master to obey, and was overcome with the desire to meet that master. A still-cognizant part of his mind knew where to go, and he flew in that direction, making the journey by the air in only a few minutes. Satisfied, the massive green dragon landed on a tower in the center of town, staring up at the top where he instinctively knew his master would be.

Eroan shook his head at his disciple's stupidity. Galan had been headstrong after all these years, that had never changed. He'd hoped his practices would teach the young man to slow down, enjoy life, and get there in his own time. Galan was still a lad and not ready to take over Eroan's position. Still, there was no sense turning back such a petulant child into an elf once more. The beast Galan had become would remain loyal to the rider, in this case, he who owned the book, being his former master. Eroan may have been pushing 300, but still, the prospect of having his own dragon mount excited the old man, and he couldn't wait to go flying!