FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

John strode out of the 'First-Rate Fragrance' with a grin on his muzzle, a pouch of coin at his belt, and a skip in his step. He was so pleased with himself, he forgot to replace the burlap hood over his face. A man across the street looked across at him for a moment, uninterested, and returned to his newspaper. By the time he made an incredulous double-take, John had already concealed himself, and slipped off the main road into a small space between the shops. Believing that that he was free of the public eye, he pulled his hood back to lie over his shoulders, and let his tail slip from the confines of his shirt and swing merrily with his gait.

The shopkeeper had been delighted by the musk he had brought, although certainly not in the manner the portly man had expected. However, after a veritable display of virility and stamina on his part, and with much help from the man's various holes and appendages, John had managed to fill most of the five jars placed over his swollen member when he began to pump out the first of his transformed juices. Twenty-five pounds now jingled with him, and the promise of a key to the back door, should he ever want to return. Even the thought of the man's plush face buried between his thighs gave his sheath a lively pulse. He hadn't slept or eaten since yesterday morning, but he felt as energized as a full breakfast on a Sunday morning. The first thing he was going to do when he got home was drop everything he was wearing on the floor, and then drop into bed with his wife. He was going to kiss her everywhere he could, and then he was going to ravish her until there was no tomorrow. Only after that, would he think about eating. Having been lost in his fantasies, planning every place and way to touch her, he came upon his doorstep faster than he'd thought he could. An excited grin stretched far across his muzzle, and he stepped inside.

****

"Get out!" Janet shrieked, striking the cast-iron pan against the side of his head again. The force of the impact sent him spinning over into their kitchen table, and shattering the chairs under his weight. "Thief! Vandal! Guards!"

"Janet, just hold on! Let me explain! Ow! Stop it. It's me!" He cried, and tore the burlap hood from his head to expose the brilliant luster of his brow. Janet shrieked, and redoubled her efforts to bludgeon him to death. He tried throwing his sack of coins to distract her, but the money did nothing to calm her bloodlust.

"Janet! J-Janet stop! Ow, damn it. Stop hitting me! Ow! Ah, no! No not there! Janet, it's me! Just...just put the pan down, okay? Ah, stop hitting me!"

"Oi! What's going on in-" A well-set man began to ask from where his head now occupied the bashed-in doorway. However, he seemed to be too busy analyzing the lizard-headed man trying to wrestle a cooking pan away from a peasant woman, to be able to finish his sentence.

"Uh, uh uh, you there! Get away from her, you foul monster!" the man decided on saying, pointing a sausage-like finger at him.

"No, please, hold on a moment. This is my wife," John pleaded to the man, gesturing frantically at the woman, and earning another bash against the temple.

"Oi, I don't care who you are, or what you are. I'm going to gut you where you stand," the guard said, leveling a long spear at him. A fierce but limited jab was leveled at his stomach, which John swiftly leapt away from, leaving the spear and pan to collide as both attacks met.

"Wow, wow, wow, wow," he said, raising his hands with his palms forward towards the guard and his violent wife. "Can't we all just calm down and talk about this?"

"No!" they both yelled in unison, and took another lunge at him. He leapt away again, landing in the opposite corner of the small house, in front of his small bed.

"Okay, okay," he tried. "But, ah, can you kill me outside?" he asked.

"I, well...fine," the guard said with a resigned shrug. He motioned to the door with the blade of his spear. "Get moving. The sooner this is done, the sooner I can go home. Now get moving!"

The spearhead was rapped briskly against his scaled rump, producing a gentle ring as the spear vibrated, as John was directed outside and into the middle of the road. Onlookers of every age and gender, curiosity piqued from the rage inside the house, gathered on both sides of the street to watch. They gasped and murmured and shrieked when they saw him stand straight and tall in the center of the road, ten paces from the town guard that threatened him.

"Die, foul beast!" The man roared, and charged forward with his spear.

"Wow! Hold on a second!" he shouted, putting his hands up in front of him. The guard slowed to a halt three yards away, looking bewildered. "Can you stab me in the back, instead?"

"Uh...sure?" the guard replied, cocking an eyebrow. He consciously took a few steps backwards and reset his spear while John turned to face the forest on the far end of town, and squared his shoulders. "Cha-!"

"And can I take my clothes off first?" John asked, looking over his shoulders at the man.

"Ah, huh? Oh, fine. Whatever," the guard huffed.

John bunched the shoulders of his burlap covering in his claws, and then cast a glance at the guard, eyeing him expectantly. "Well, I can't do it if you're watching."

"Oh, for crying out-" the guard sighed. "I am going to give you three seconds, and then I'm going to run you through. Alright?"

"That seems fair," John replied with a curt nod.

"Okay. One."

John tore the burlap from his body, leaving him bare and glistening in the sunlight. While it had been too fast for the older audience to react to, the younger women were spry enough to glimpse his masculine physique, and woo with delight.

"Two."

John took off down the road at a full sprint. Past the edge of town, and disappeared into the forest beyond.

"Three!"

The guard turned around and...

"Where'd he go?"

****

For the next three days John travelled, over hill and dale, through marsh and meadow, and otherwise walked through the forest in a generally straight line. He didn't know where he was going, but only that the village was back the way he had come. There was no use going back there again. Even his wife of ten years didn't recognize or love him anymore. There wasn't anywhere for him to fit anymore. So, he'd just have to make a place for him to fit. Trudging through the sun-dappled forest, he came to the top of a dirt hill, where the canopy split beam shafts of noonday sun down onto his scales. He could feel his hide warming under the bright light, soothing his aching muscles. At the same time, a warm breeze blew across the forest floor, rustling the sparse underbrush far below. To his sides and rear, leafy birch trees peppered the area, barely sufficient to block the fluffy clouds in the blue sky above. However, dead ahead a line of tightly-packed evergreens blocked out the sunlight completely, leaving a foreboding, impenetrable shadow across his path. Normally, he would have skirted the shadowy forest in fear. He'd had somewhere to return to, back then. With nothing left to lose, John embraced the spark of danger in a way he'd never expected. He felt fearless, like the wolves and cougars and bears could do nothing to him. Even a dragon would bow before his bravery.

"Forest! My name is John, and I am your new master!" He bellowed at the curtain shadow, spreading his arms to bear his chest.

"This forest has no master but me!" the forest replied, its voice deep and menacing. "You dare to challenge me, product?"

"I, er, yes!" John faltered, not expecting a forest to reply. "Show yourself, forest sprite."

Then the forest began to laugh. It had a deep, hollow laugh that vibrated around him and made his knees tremble. It held within it so much confidence, and John suddenly felt a little less invincible. "Oh, I am no sprite, product," the voice boomed, and a fierce, piercing wind blew out from the shadowy forest. "And if you wish to challenge me, then I will meet you. Your life for mine. Are you prepared?"

"Uh, ye-yeah," John replied, entirely unsure of whatever it was he was doing. He stared out at the tree line, eyes keen for movement, although he had no plan after that. Even if he saw something, what was he going to do? Wrestle it down with his bare hands? In a flash of motion, a blur as shadowy as the needles on the trees burst from the line, blazing straight towards him. With a startled yelp, John swung himself around and made for the bottom of the hill, when-

****

When John awoke, groggy and dazed, he was sprawled on his back. Sharp pebbles scratched at his scales as he wriggled on the floor of wherever he was now. It wasn't the forest; that much was certain. It was dark and jagged around him, with wayward roots of massive trees and stalactites ground to points as sharp as rapiers. He could barely make out the walls of the chamber in which he lay, some ten feet away on all sides, and he couldn't hope to pierce the darkness that shrouded the entrances to dozens of hovels and side tunnels. He could faintly here the trickle of water from somewhere, as the sound bounced around the somewhat bowled walls of the chamber. With his head clear, he was able to make out that he was sitting in something of a bowl himself. A fat droplet of water fell from the ceiling and broke over his snout, causing him to wince and shy away. Meanwhile, the ice cold fluid flowed into the grooves between his scales, chilling the sensitive flesh underneath.

"You're awake," a deep, hollow voice echoed around the chamber. John couldn't quite pinpoint where it had come from, but it reverberated around him with a debilitating sense of command.

"Who...who are you?" John stuttered, propping himself up on his elbows and furtively glancing about.

"A better question would be who you are," the voice replied. "Who are you to believe that you could challenge and defeat me? Who are you to venture into my forest at all, despite my clear indication that none should disturb this place? Who are you to be roaming freely, after you have been so clearly claimed by another house?"

"I'm John," he replied simply.

"John," the voice repeated, echoing in a different pattern as the origin of the voice moved around him. "It's a simple name, for a simple man, or what used to be a man. But you were changed. Seduced, captured, it doesn't matter. What matters is that you are an outcast. An outcast of your people, and an outcast of the house that made you this way. And now, you've gambled with your life. You gambled with your life and lost. To me."

Right in front of him, as if materializing from the darkness itself, stepped a dragon. It wasn't as large as the adult dragon he'd encountered before, but he could see that it was no less menacing. If anything, this dragon was far more terrifying. It held its narrow, wedge-shaped head a good ten feet in the air, with its broad shoulders held just above John's head. It was body was thick with sinew, but still sleek and agile. Its scales were the deepest green imaginable, almost pure black, but catching any glint of light would make them shine like pine needles. From its eyes, a dark orange gleam ringed an abyss of a pupil, and curved, swaying scars ran from the edges of its lower eyelids to the curve of its lower jaw. Each footstep carried a deep, commanding thud that shook the floor beneath him, and the air that emanated from this creature was one of total dominance and control.

"My name is Farseth," the dragon said, while John stared wide-eyed up at it. Seeing that voice emanate from a pair of living lips only deepened their threatening tone. John took a loud gulp of air, but was otherwise totally still and totally silent. "You will call me 'master', or you will never speak again. I am the master of this forest, and everything within it. Nothing is beyond my reach here, and nothing happens without my knowledge and consent. You did not have my consent to approach the forest, but now you do not have my consent to leave. You do not have my consent to leave this cave without instruction from me first. You do not have my consent to act in any way other than how I specify. Am I understood?"

"I...er...yes," John stammered.

A loud crack flew around the room, and a searing pain arced through John's right arm as he collapsed backwards. The dragon's tail, faster than any whip, now lay curled around its forelegs.

"You will address me properly, or you are not worth keeping alive," Farseth said bluntly.

"Yes...sir," John replied dejectedly, idly rubbing the forming welt on his right bicep.

"Better," the dragon replied. "You now work for me, and will perform the actions I set out for you each day without fail. As I am the overseer of this forest and all of its inhabitants, your tasks will be of an administrative and civil nature."

"I've never done anything like that," he said.

"Basic instruction will be provided to you, as would be fair. I will also allot you a certain number of mistakes that I will allow in your first year of service. Surpass that number, and your position will be terminated. A servant that does not learn has no place being a servant."

John didn't know what to say. His eyes were cast downward at the dark grey stone.

"Do you understand your new position?" Farseth asked.

"Uh, yeah," John replied. "Yeah, I get it. Sir."

"Good," the dragon said. "Now, it's getting late. You must be weary from travel, and the blow I dealt to you will do nothing for your performance. Stay in this chamber and rest. I will retrieve you in the morning for your first task."

In the dark chamber, John felt the shadow more than he saw it. As Farseth passed over him, he could hear the rustling of his scales chafing at the joints, and his thick tail apathetically swerved around him. A dull, booming thud echoed through the cave as the dragon walked away, down some passage behind him, and was gone. He waited a moment, flopped over onto his side, and curled his legs into his chest. He still wasn't sure what to think. He was trapped, essentially a slave. To attempt escape would almost certainly be the end of him. On the other hand, where would he escape to? Would he go deeper into the forest? He had nowhere else to go. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, at least for a little while. If anything, he was one hell of an optimist. Using his arm as a pillow, as he had for the past few nights, John drifted off to sleep.

****

John awoke from his light, troubled sleep, unsure of what time it was or how long he'd rested. It was still no brighter in the chamber than it had been before, but he could only assume that it was morning. His right side was aching from where he'd slept on it, and strangely enough, his cock lay semi-erect against his thigh. It had been days since he'd last felt sexual stimulus, and clearly his new body was quite virile and quick to excite. His tapered tip had emerged, along with an inch of his member, and more of it seemed to twitch and swell as he stared. Faint vapors of his own musk began to waft into his nostrils, arousing him further. Quite rapidly, his pink shaft was completely engorged, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his hand around it and indulge himself in carnal pleasure. He rose into a sitting position, bowed his legs to allow better access, and-

"Ah, good, you're awake," Farseth's voice rose from the entrance to the chamber, somewhere in front of him. In a flash, John rolled himself up around his shaft, and sat with his knees hugged tight to his chest with an innocent look on his face.

"There is no reason to hide from me," the dragon said, stepping towards him. "In fact, I am pleased to see this. Arousal indicates high morale, and a depressed servant will do no good for anyone. Besides, this creates a perfect transition into my first task."

"It does?" he asked warily.

"It does," the dragon said with a nod, and came to stand over him again. John sat just below his chest, with the dragon towering over him and leaving him quite vulnerable. "You see, product, you still smell of the house that made you. My first task this morning is to mark you as my own, so there can be no mistake. There are two different ways to do this. The first is I lift my leg and mark you like a wolf marks a tree," the dragon said, forcing John to glance down his barrel chest towards the very full sheath that hung before him. "However, it would take days for the room to properly drain and fumigate after that. The other way would be to simply apply my musk to you. The scents and oils on your body leave nothing to the imagination, product. I know exactly what you've done with your former contacts, and I see no reason why I cannot take advantage of that experience to provide a more...pleasurable experience."

"I, uh..."

"Lie on your back," Farseth ordered.

"Umm..."

"Very well then," the dragon said with a smirk, and began to step forward. His body passed over John's head with a dark rustle, and in the dim light he could make out the rocking shape of Farseth's balls. The massive orbs, hanging at the level of his face, bounced quickly towards him. As they closed in to press against him, he began to lean back, watching as the radiating flesh passed less than an inch from the tip of his snout. A familiar scent came to him then, pungent in the still air. Musk, deep and earthy like the stuff he was used to, but with and added sharpness, as if the dragon had been rolling in pine needles. The sack held there above his nostrils for a moment, waving back and forth with its remaining momentum, wafting its sweet smell around him. Then in one smooth motion it rolled forward and down, smothering his face in warm, heady skin. A star of flesh kissed his lips and breathed sweet airs at him. Expanding and contracting, popping on and off his scales, until it opened wider. He felt slimy flesh around his snout as the ravenous hole gobbled him up, until the heavy sack came to rest atop his brow. With all light now blocked out by the supple skin, the only thing left for John to concentrate on was the rhythmic pulsing of the anal star around his cheeks, and overpowering musk that entered his lungs of its own accord.

"Go on then," Farseth said with more than a hint of satisfaction. "I know you've used that tongue before."

With no other way to escape, John forced his snout apart, against the contracting force of the walls around him, and sent his tongue forward. The taste of the musk-infused fluid brought tingling to his tongue, and despite whatever dislike he had for the dragon, his body could not resist this prize. Even with this anus-based sensory deprivation, he could not ignore the blood surging into his own member, and the painful arousal that it brought. His arms were trapped beneath the thighs of the beast above him, and even if he was deft enough with his tail, he lacked the concentration to make a firm attempt at pleasuring himself.

"Oh, you are a treat," the dragon rumbled above him, giving his hips a wiggle to settle John's head further within him. "I cannot imagine why you were left to run wild."

Unable to answer, John merely continued his ministrations. Swirling his tongue in circular patterns, he touched every place he could with varying pressures. Up and down, in and out, side to side, and every other which way he went was followed by a quiver of flesh around him. The levels of musk around him were only rising, getting so heavy that he began to cough through his strained jaw. At least the other dragons had the sense to pull him out before he lost consciousness, and it had never been so air-tight before. His discomfort only rose as each breath burned his throat, his cough growing hoarser and more violent. He began to spasm in a panic, his feet and tail thrashing against the floor as they were his only free limbs. A heavy tail was dropped over his own to silence its pattering, but John's convulsions never diminished. Even in the pitch black of the dragon's sack, he could make out the edges of his vision fading into a deeper blackness, and his struggles weakened. He was like a toy that a reckless child broke on his first day.

A shuffle of flesh and audible pop preceded John's snout snapping open like a coiled spring, free to sputter and gasp into open air. The hole pulling away from him had a sheen to it in the low light, a product of his ministrations. Farseth took a few steps back, but John merely stared at his blurring belly scales as he recovered.

"Five minutes and thirteen seconds," Farseth said matter-of-factly. "I'll be sure to remember that, so you do not pass out during foreplay."

"Fore...play?" he asked, his mind addled as the room spun.

"Of course," the dragon replied. "While your performance was satisfying, it did little more than ready me for the next phase."

"There's more?"

"Your entire body still reeks of the host that made you this way," Farseth replied. "While your face has been marked well enough, the rest of your body must become mine, so that there is no confusion as to who owns you. Now, flag your tail and present yourself to me."

Far beyond the point of objection, John rolled onto his stomach with a grunt. He rose up onto his hands and knees, turning his snout back to watch the engorged member hanging a foot behind him. It was larger than the younger dragon he'd taken before, at least the length of his arm, and twice as thick, but something told him that he wasn't going to get away with just a rub-down.

"Do not fear. I am naturally lubricated well enough to penetrate you. You will feel some discomfort, but you will loosen after a few sessions." Farseth said, and clamped one forefoot around John's hips. With his tail trapped between his back and the chest scales of the dragon bearing down upon him, there was nothing standing in the way as the thick tip bounced against his rear. Unable to see, but with the weight of the thing pressed against him, John imagined that someone was trying to push a shovelhead up his ass. He felt the tapered tip fall into place between his cheeks, and a scuffing on the floor while the dragon repositioned his hips for a better angle. He knew when it was coming, the dragon's grip tightened around his body right before the first thrust, but nothing could prepare him for what it felt like. He was so full it hurt, and he knew that there was more to come. His mind was in too much a frenzy to guess how much of it was inside him, with the shocks of pain, pleasure, pressure blasting through him. What was inside of him retreated, then rolled back in, bringing another inch along with it. It would take a long time to get that kind of length inside him. In and out, in and out, with a new jolt of muscle pain accompanying every thrust. John just did his best to hold himself up against the onslaught. If he were to fall forward, Farseth could crush him against the rock, and the only thing worse than being suffocated in an ass was being humped to death.

Three more pounding thrusts rocked his body, further opening his rear passage, until the painful stretching seemed to cease. He did not feel groin scales or the dragon's sack against his own, but he seemed to have stopped moving forward, at least for now. With a massive effort, John turned his head back, he could just make out the side of the cock spearing into him, but a better judge of distance was the very visible sack flopping back and forth just beyond his hiked legs. It stopped about a foot from him; the dragon was only about halfway into him.

"Every...bit of you...is a...treat." Farseth managed to say between the grunts that punctuated every thrust. The claws clutching at his hips was released, and instead clamped over his shoulders, forcing his head down and his tail higher. Then the other side swapped, completely pinning him to the floor. A deep rumble rose in the beast's chest, quickly rising in volume and ferocity as the speed of the thrusts increase.

John could feel it spasm inside him, ready to burst at any moment, and that moment was the next one, as the final thrust opened a new section of his large intestine. A flush of fluid roared through his bowels as the voice of the dragon above him roared in his ears. His insides were swamped, filling him to the brim with hot semen. He could feel each rush of fluid as it travelled up Farseth's buried cock in gobs, until it burst into the already-filled passage. The dragon pulled himself out and released him a moment later, letting the viscous semen escape out his gaping anus. Without the dragon to support him, John flopped onto his back, breathless after such a physical ordeal. Farseth walked around to his side and, after crouching down to his height, rubbed the dripping of his cock onto John's exposed belly.

"That should be acceptable, for now," the dragon said. "I will need some time to recover, but I cannot allow you to leave the cave until you are fully marked. I will allow you time to rest for one hour, and then I shall return with your first task."

Without another word, Farseth turned and headed down a passage, leaving John alone in a puddle of the fluids pouring from his ass. He was exhausted, and yet he couldn't have been awake for any longer than ten minutes. He pulled himself away from the forming puddle, making no attempt to avoid dragging his tail through the mess, and curled up again. Maybe he could get some more sleep before the dragon came back. With a little hope of being undisturbed, John shut his eyes and tried to ignore the dull throb beneath his tail and the reek of musk that filled the air.

****

John didn't know how long he was asleep, or what time it was now. All he knew was that he was still in the cavern, it wasn't any brighter, and he was alone. With a groan, he stumbled to his feet, acutely aware of the pain in his tail hole after last night's abuse. He kept his tail tucked close to his rear, almost going to far as to run it right through his crack. It made him feel...safer. With slow, deliberate steps and eyes squinted against the darkness, he made his way towards one of the tunnels leading away from the chamber and sloping upwards.

Up and up he went, his right hand pressed flat against the wall as he climbed. The tunnel was a long one, steep and constantly turning to the right in spiral. The air seemed to be getting fresher as he panted from exertion, and the details of the stones seemed a little clearer. How deep did these caves run? Was he climbing to the top of a mountain? His head drooped and his eyes shut, too tired of climbing to hold them up anymore. It felt like he'd been walking for ages in the dark, featureless tunnel. Maybe he should just turn back. The air just seemed so fresh now. He couldn't go back there now. He was almost free. Surely it was only a few more steps now. He'd feel the sun on his scales again, and the cool breeze, and the birds, and-

He felt something catch his right foot, and he was suddenly in free-fall. The wall was no longer against his palm, and instead he felt open air all around him. He opened his eyes, but only managed to be blinded by brilliant light and reflexively shut them tight again. He was falling, and he'd been falling for a few seconds now. Was he going to die? Had he walked right off the edge of the dragon's flight pad or something like that? Unsure of which way was up, he continued to flip head over heel, until he first hit brush. Each branch that smacked him felt like a whip, but when he finally hit the underbrush with a resounding thud, he was quite satisfied to not be snapped in half. As far as he could tell, he was right-side up, but it wasn't until he tentatively cracked his eyelids that he saw exactly where he was. He was currently sitting square in the center of a patch of thorny brambles. While the sharp points couldn't pierce his scales like they could have his old skin, the bare, twisted branches all muddled together looked menacing enough. Shielding his eyes with one hand, he looked straight up, the relatively thick canopy mangled enough to show the sheer cliff face he'd just tumbled from. It was probably a good forty feet high, and he was lucky to have not fallen on his head and broken anything.

"Ah, damn it," John groaned, pushing himself to his feet once again. At least the dull ache in the back of his legs was enough to distract him from the dull ache in his ass. It looked to him like he had enough cover from the sky to avoid being seen. It would only be a matter of time before Farseth found out he'd escaped and came after him. Oh, he'd get such a beating if he got caught. Taking one last glance up at the cave opening high in the rock wall above him, John stepped out into the unknown forest.

****

After nearly an hour of trekking, John came across an open stream, free of tree cover but thick with bulrush and other tall grasses. He stumbled through awkwardly, one foot sinking into thick, wet mud while the other remained relatively well supported. There didn't seem to be any pattern to the way the bank was irrigated, and by the time he reached the stream proper, he was caked up to his ankles in mud and physically exhausted from the extra effort. Once his feet padded against the smooth, stable stones of the riverbank, he collapsed on to his knees in front of the bubbling water. Dipping his hand into the water, it felt cool and refreshing against his scales. He couldn't help but scoop some up and pour it down his parched throat, before pouring over his forehead and letting it run down his streamline body until it dripped down off his sides and elbows. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had fresh, cool water. He dipped his whole snout down into the water, taking long laps at it like a mangy dog. A second later, something wrapped around his arms and neck, and he was yanked upwards. He back pressed up against a water wall of smooth scales, and a pair of long, lithe fingers wrapped themselves around his skull. He thrashed his lower body against his captor, trying to strike at its legs with his feet and tail, but to no avail.

"Did he send you after me?" a voice asked. It was lighter and gentler than he was expecting from a random attacker. However, the hands against his head tightened their grip, and he felt his neck begin to stretch uncomfortably.

"Nnnn! Nnnn!" he tried, shaking his head back and forth against the grip. One of the hands was wrapped around his snout, and the grip was surprisingly strong. His jaws would barely move against it.

"Liar. I saw you come out of his caves. You're his agent, aren't you? Did he transform you into his slave?"

"Nnn!" he tried again.

Craning his eyes upward, he tried to get a glimpse of his assailant's face. Instead, he could only see the clear blue sky, puffy white clouds, and a narrow, forked tongue darting rapidly in and out of his line of sight.

"You still smell something like your own self," the voice said. "He is half-way there, though. You escaped, then?"

"Mmhmm."

"And you're not here on any of his errands?"

"Nnn."

"Good," the voice replied, and he was dropped.

John flopped back to the ground on his hands and knees, gasping for breath. His right hand lifted to rub at the base of his next, where the muscles had cramped into a stiff, painful mass. He really just hurt everywhere now.

"Come on, we can't stay here for long," the voice said from above him. "Follow me back to my camp. You can rest there."

He heard rustling behind him, and when he turned his head to look back over his shoulder, John could only see the leaves waving after a recent disturbance. With a groan of effort and irritation, he rose to his feet and headed off after her, with more of a limp than a complete step at this point. Peering out above the uppermost leaves, he could watch the shape of his captor turned guide rustle beneath the foliage. He followed after her, the grass brushing against his arms and legs and leaving tiny droplets of sparkling dew on his scales. Once again, the cool contact with water felt nice, in contrast to the dull pain he felt most everywhere else.

A moment later, he emerged into a small, dry, dirt clearing, featureless in comparison to the sparkling greenery around it. The only features worth mentioning were a ring of soot-stained stones and a small cave that looked just big enough to squeeze inside. It was more of a covered hole in the ground than a cave, but it certainly looked out of place in the flatland.

"Just have a seat by the fireplace. I'll be out in a second," the voice called, echoing up from the depths of the hole.

John glanced down the hollow, trying to pierce the darkness with only his eyes, but when he could see nothing but darkness, he gave up and sat down across from it and waited. He spread his legs wide and leaned against his hands, stretching out the sore muscles in his back and limbs. With a grunt of relief, he reached over with his right hand and idly scratched at an itch manifesting under his sack.

"Ah, there we go," the voice said, and John's eyes shot up to see a narrow, black-scaled head emerge from the hole. It was rounded and lithe, without the same angles that he had. Two round eyes sat on either side of the curved nose, with large, black pupils and a thin band of yellow iris to accent it. It was attached to a short, delicate neck, which connected to a pair of narrow shoulders. Two long, lanky arms were visible from the mouth of the cave, carrying what looked like two dead squirrels. There was a slight roundness to the chest, but no nipples were visible. Based on that, and the sound of its voice, John could be pretty sure that it was female. Her belly was covered in small, green-yellow scales, as well as two lines that ran over her head and all the way down her back. Everything below her midriff was still hidden in the hole. Her eyes, cast at the ground when she emerged, slowly travelled up his body, until she stopped with a jerking halt. Her eyes were leveled at his waist, as his sheath and sack bounced against his scratching hand. Just as startled as she was, John jerked his hand back around behind him, and brought his knees up to his chest to hide his modesty.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, suddenly very interest in the grass off to the left of the hole.

"No...no, that's okay," she replied. "I don't mind. What's your name?"

"John," he replied.

"John," she repeated slowly. His eyes darted back to her, still half-hidden in the hole, and when their eyes met, he promptly took interest in the grass to his right. "I'm Lidia,"

"It's nice to meet you," John said, and tucked his legs in a bit closer together.

"Are you hungry?" she asked. "These are my last two, but I was going to go hunting later, anyway."

"Ah, no thank you," he replied, flashing a curt nod and smile. His eyes, not quite comfortable meeting her in the eye again, decided to stare at the two dead rodents instead.

"If you say so," she replied, and brought the rodents up to her jaws. He watched, wide-eyed, as she opened her toothless maw wide, and her narrow, tined tongue wrapped around the midsection of both animals. She held the two aloft by that alone, bringing her hand down to her sides, and then pulled the meal into her mouth. With a quiet swallow, the two dead animals created a small bulge in the front of her throat, downed completely whole. "So, did he capture you, too?"

"Farseth? Yeah, he caught me...yesterday or the day before. I'm not quite sure which."

"How long have you been like that?" she asked, making a motion at him with her hand.

"A few days now," John replied. "It wasn't so bad, really."

"Wait, he didn't change you?"

"Ah, no. I was like this when he found me," he said.

"Oh," she replied. "So you weren't kidnapped like I was?"

"No, probably not," he agreed. "What happened to you?"

"I live on a farm on the outskirts of a town near the edge of the forest. I was hanging some laundry outside when the dragon flew in and grabbed me right there. He flew me back to his cave, and he...changed me...into this," she stuttered, and began to pull the rest of her body out of the hole. John stared wide-eyed as her stomach merged with a huge, sinew tail. She had no hips or legs, just like a giant snake. By the time she had fully emerged and could stand upright, her head stood five feet in the air, and her body extended six feet back. "Even you must think I'm a freak."

"No...No, of course not," he replied, hastily rising to his feet. Standing at about six feet himself, John stood about a head above Lidia. He stepped over to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You're not a freak. Just, a little different from everyone else."

"But this isn't even the worst of it," she said, looking down at his feet. "I'm completely different."

"Why? What else could be different? You're still who you used to be on the inside. It's just your outside that's changed."

"Are you the person you used to be, John?"

He didn't have an answer for her, and a long pause followed.

"I escaped from the dragon months ago, and have been living out here the whole time. I can't go back to my old life. My husband and children wouldn't recognize me like this. It's been hell, living like this for months, with the constant fear that he'd come back for me again. He did terrible things to me, John," she said, and then paused for a moment. Her tongue darted out into the air, and then dipped down to rub against his body. "He's done terrible things to you, too."

"It's strange," John replied. "When I was changed, my wife wouldn't take me back. The guards in my town, men I've drank with at the tavern dozens of times, tried to kill me. But, I don't feel bad about any of it. Maybe, when I left the roads and started walking, in whatever direction I felt like, it felt refreshing. I didn't have any responsibilities anymore. No more farming, no more taxes, no more nagging wife. Ah, no offence."

"Are you saying, that you like it better this way?" she asked.

"It's simpler, you know," he said. "You don't have to get ahead of everyone else."

"You're unbelievable. I can't believe, after all you've been through, you-" she stopped, tongue flicking rapidly through the air. "He's coming."

"Who? Farseth?" John asked.

"Yes. Come on, get inside," Lidia beckoned, eyes snapping to the sky as she backed away from him.

"Can I really fit in there?"

"Just hurry up!" she shouted, and shoved him towards the hole. She was a lot stronger than she looked, he realized as he tumbled sideways and fell against his face a foot from the entrance. He made a scramble for tunnel on his stomach, and managed to get his head and forearms inside before he was run over. Lidia threw herself on top of him, wrapped her arms around his hips, and proceeded to drag him down the hole. He shut his eyes tight and kept himself straight as dirt and debris blew past his face at an alarming rate. In another second, he was in the complete blackness, with Lidia wrapped in some inconceivable pattern around him. He could feel part of her against his back, against his front, under his shoulder, over and under his legs, and even under his tail. He tried to tuck it, but his tail was also trapped under some section of the coil.

"Hey, get-"

"Shh!" she exclaimed, wrapping a hand over the end of his snout.

They lay in silence for what felt like hours. All the while, John was wriggling and jerking against Lidia's grip. He couldn't break free from any part of her, lest another two coils come to wrap up the same place. It very quickly grew uncomfortably hot in the space, and though he had no idea how big it actually it was, he felt very claustrophobic.

"Stay here," Lidia whispered suddenly, sometime later. Her hands released his snout and she removed herself from his body by flowing around him like water. Tiny scales slid against his in every direction, rolling his body in strange ways until he was dumped unceremoniously on the hard dirt floor. He scuffled about, reaching out with his hands and feet, but could not find any walls or defining features. He didn't dare move more than that, in case this place was some kind of labyrinth that he'd be lost in forever.

"I'm pretty sure he's gone," Lidia said from somewhere to his left. "Come on. You'd best get out of here before he makes another pass."

"I can't see anything," he said.

"Here, take my hand. It's right next to your left hand," she replied.

Stretching out, John began to pat at the floor, looking for a scaly hand that was not there. Slowly, his search radius grew wider, his arm waving back and forth looking for any part of Lidia to guide him. Finally, as his hand swung out far to his left, he brushed past a fingertip. He backpedaled, and took a firm hold on her smooth, supple wrist. As soon as he made contact, he heard a soft hiss, and she seemed to stiffen up against him.

"Lidia? What's wrong?" he asked.

"John. I- You-" she began, but hissed again.

"What is it?"

He heard a scuffling in the dirt off somewhere to his right, and there was a sudden flash of light in the cave as two stones were struck together. He could faintly see a small pile of sticks and grasses beneath the fresh rain of sparks, which quickly caught and took to flame. Now fully exposed a foot in front of him, he could the two sharp stones in Lidia's hands, and his own hand wrapped around a firm, tapered, seven inch shaft. Just below that, a second shaft glimmered in the flickering light, just as solid as the first.

"I- You-" he stuttered.

"I'm so sorry, John. We were so close, and you were rubbing against me, and I haven't been with anyone in months, and-" she said. "I told you that my body shape wasn't the worst part."

John just stared down her body in disbelief. Her shafts bobbed simultaneously, one in his hand, and the other brushing against his knuckles. The scaled flesh around the base of the shafts was puffy and swollen, along with a second hole several inches below that. He could only assume that it was what was left of her former self.

"When I was changed, the dragon used his own seed first," she said. "After that, he changed me again, after milking a common garter snake. He said he wanted something that could move around easily in his caves. All of that male seed must have, caused this. It's been ages since I've felt any kind of touch. The dragon's done terrible things to you, John, and I want to, too."

"Lidia, I-"

Her hands moved to the bottom of his snout, and he was pulled into a deep kiss. Her tongue easily brushed between his lips and met his, wrapping around it like any snake would do naturally. She reached back with her hands, keeping his lips planted against hers as she explored his mouth, moaning with passion all the while. Her body slithered sideways to sidle against his, her twin shafts coming to rest on either side of his own sheath. Pressure was building there from the contact, and he felt his head slip up into the space where her two shafts connected. The temperature in the cave spiked rapidly, and a mingling of scents reached his nose. One was sweet and flowery, the other rich and earthy. A pheromone as diverse as her body. His skin began to tingle everywhere she touched him, and the writhing inside their joined mouths was suddenly a two-sided duel for dominance. He wrestled back against her now, his tongue thicker and more muscular than hers, but less agile. She ducked and dipped around his attempts to pin her, and taunted him with brief bindings and squeezes around his organ. He managed to force the battle back into her mouth, where they were freer to move without risk of his pointed teeth. In her domain, she easily dominated his advance, trapping his tongue in the vice of her soft gums, and encircling his extended tongue in her own. She began to suck on it, her tongue sliding back and forth over its surface, giving his taste buds a rewarding buzz. Finally, inch by inch she unwrapped her tongue from his, and unlocked their lips.

"I won," Lidia said with a smirk and a sultry tone. Her hands slid up his snout and to the top of his head, where she began to push him down towards her shafts. His left hand had remained wrapped around her the entire time, leaving it drenched in the natural lubricant she was excreting. He began a steady stroking rhythm on that shaft alone, while he snout dipped down to bump against the tip of the other. Her rich musk was heavy here, and when he moved his head down a few inches, the flowery scent was far more prevalent.

"Is this your, ah," he struggled.

"It's both," she replied. "It still feels like it used to when you touch it. When was the last time you slept with a girl, John?"

"Seems like ages ago," he replied, watching her dual-purpose hole wink at him. She didn't have folds like a regular woman did, but he could see a shrunken clit tucked up into the corner. He nuzzled the end of his snout close against it, making her shaft jump in his hand and a soft hiss to roll from between her lips. His tongue reached out to dance across the edge of her entrance, causing the muscles below to quiver at the contact. Slowly, he circled into her, until the edge of his tongue could pick up the thick-scented secretions from inside her tunnel. He could barely get a could taste before her hand went under his chin and pulled him back up to her face.

"I changed my mind," she said. "There will be plenty of time for you to put things inside there later. Right now, I want to put something inside you,"

Lidia moved her hands back to grasp over his shoulder, and he watched in awe as her body slid over, around, and under him, trapping him in her coil. Her twin shafts cradled the base of his tail, and she slid them down over his ass, smearing clear fluid down his cheeks. Her body turned sideways, slipping one shaft against his hole, and the other between his legs and against his sack. In a slow, smooth drive, her member sunk into his anus, still loose from the much larger object he had been faced with the other day. Instead of feeling pain or violation, John only tingled with pleasure. The way Lidia sensual rubbed both the inside and outside of his body made him jelly in her arms.

Her speed began to increase, the tip of his shaft just reaching the edge of his clenching hole's grasp before sliding effortlessly back in. Without legs to power her thrusts, her body slid up and down his abdomen, extending the experience well past his hips. His hand idly travelled down to his own shaft, which he held against hers as she slid up against it. Using a light grip, he began to stroke them in unison, against the rhythm of her thrusts.

It only took a few moments, but soon her thrusts were powerful and erratic. There was a fire against his scales from the constant friction, and a wash of hot breath over his face as Lidia panted against him. He could feel her shafts throbbing, building to a final crescendo, until her swollen slit mashed against his hole and a spray erupted inside and out. For someone splitting her load through two shafts, she produced a fair amount, easily coating his hand, stomach, and insides. It hadn't been a feat of endurance, but it left him with a lovely buzz that he hadn't felt from anyone before. Completely breathless, Lidia fell against his chest weakly, and with a breathy groan, removed herself from him. A trail of semen leaked from him as she exited, but it wasn't like the flood he'd felt yesterday. She wasn't particularly thick, and after quietly slipping out, his hole closed up again, locking her seed within him for a while.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. "I wanted to go longer, but-"

"That's okay," John replied, stroking the back of her head with his clean hand. "You were great."

Accompanied by a grunt of exertion, he could feel her body sliding against his again. Scales glided over his inner thighs again, until the tip of his engorged shaft sat in the cleft of her entrance. "Your turn," she said with a smile.

John took a moment to wipe his sticky hand against his thigh before reaching under her Lidia's and holding her under the shoulder blades. He curled his legs around the thick muscles between them, and used it as purchase to push himself inside. Sensations of pleasure flashed all across his body as he easily sank into her rippling confines. She was so yielding to his advance, yet held a firm massage around his shaft. It didn't take long at all for his heart to start pounding in his chest, and his breathing to elevate to a passionate pant. He began a steady rhythm against her, rolling his hips back and forth against her body. Her head nuzzled up under his chin as she moaned with delight, and they both clenched harder at each other. A rumble rose in John's chest as his balls began to stiffen and churn, preparing to empty themselves as quickly as possible. Back and forth, he plowed forward, no longer concerned about the sensuality of it all. He wanted it to be carnal now.

Just like Lidia before him, John found his breaking point arriving far sooner than he would have liked. Wrapping his arms up to grab her shoulders, he pulled her tight to his chest and opened his mouth, letting his gathering growl escape in a triumphant roar. He used his legs to pull her body to his groin, completely burying himself inside her as his seed spewed deep into her body. Her muscles rippled and pulled against his leaking shaft, milking every drop of semen until the contractions behind his torrent were physically painful. Totally spent of both energy and lust, John pulled himself free of her with a similar groan to her own.

"How was that?" he asked, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"So much better than my tail," she replied breathlessly.

He released his grip on her back and she uncoiled herself from him, until they lay side by side in the dirt, tired and dripping with their own thick fluids. They stared up at the ceiling, breathless, and watched the shadows cast by the dying fire flicker against the dirt and stone.

"I think you should go back to him," Lidia said after a long moment of silence.

"What?" he asked.

"You should go back to the dragon."

"But why?"

"John, I've been living out here, alone and afraid, for months. I've tried before, but I couldn't escape the forest. There are high cliffs all around. It's a basin we're stuck in, John. Without legs, I have no hope of climbing up," she said. "It's hard living under this kind of pressure, John. To survive and stay unseen. He moves so fast, it's hard to keep away. I'll have to move again after this. He could follow your scent back to here if he really wanted to. When we were talking about him earlier, you didn't hate him like I do."

"I don't like him," John said matter-of-factly. "but things could be worse."

"You should go back to him," she repeated. "You won't have to worry about things like I do. About him finding you, hurting you, anything like that. It's up to you, but, I don't think you have to have what I've got."

They lay in silence for a moment longer, until with a sigh, John rolled onto his belly and oriented himself towards the exit. "I'll see you again sometime?" he asked.

"Maybe," she replied. "But not if he's with you."

"Come grab me when I'm alone, then," he said, and crawled away.

****

"So, you came back," Farseth said, glaring down at him. They stood in the center of a large clearing, filled with knee-high plants and lavender stalks. John had been circling the high cliff, starting from where he'd fallen, looking for a way back inside. The sun had long since set, but the moon was full and bright on this cloudless night, and moving around was not a problem. However, the dragon had found him instead.

"I...got some good advice," John replied, casting his eyes downward. "It's better here, with you, than hiding out there."

"You met her," the dragon said. "Where is she?"

John was silent.

"Very well," Farseth replied. "I will punish you for running off some other time. For now, it's late, and we should be asleep."

"Yes, sir."

****

"Wake up, product," the rumbling voice said as it pierced John's dream. He was lying on his side, with a warmth running down his front and back like a loose blanket. He opened his eyes, then his nose, and smelled it before he saw it. A fresh aroma of musk wafted around him, making his dream-addled mind spin. Looking down across his side, he could make out the wash of fresh semen over his side and down his legs, entirely drenching him. "We're going to the river."

"Yeah," John agreed, splaying the fingers on his right hand and watching the creamy sheen drip from between them. He stood and made an attempt to wipe the stuff from his body, but it simply stuck and hung from his arms like the membrane of a wing, flexing and bellowing in a faint draft. With a sigh, he simply stuck his arms to his side, and looked up at Farseth as the dragon continued to eye him.

"Follow me," the dragon said neutrally, and turned away from him. He led them out of the shallow bowl in the floor and into one of the passages, which twisted and turned in every disorienting direction. Roots, stones, and cobwebs jutted every which way, although they didn't impede his path. The dragon had to duck a few, however.

Along the winding tunnel they walked, in total silence save the echoes of their footsteps on the uneven stone floor. Each thud of the large dragon's footsteps reverberated around the tunnel, vibrating the roots where they were exposed. John was simply a quiet plodding in his wake. The passed through many chambers, similar to the one he had occupied. Some were larger, and some were smaller. They didn't seem to serve a purpose, but he was sure that the dragon had something in mind for them. He didn't seem like the type to leave things unchecked. A minute later they emerged into the back of an enormous cavern, with light streaming in from around a corner of rock. The air was damp and cool with the fresh morning, and the trailing semen on John's body congealed closer to his body. The dragon rounded the corner promptly, but John took his time. He put his left, mostly-clean hand against his brow and kept his eyes low as he emerged into the light. Just as it was the day before, the light was piercing to him after being in the dark for so long. He focused on the waving tip of Farseth's tail, dragging across the ground in front of him, until his eyes stopped throbbing. Solid rock gave way to loose gravel, and then to packed dirt as he walked, and although he could not see them above him, he could see the shadows of the loose birch canopy over his feet.

He could hear the river long before he felt comfortable looking up. They were walking down a gentle, left-curving decline, probably along the side of a short hill. From what he could see, it looked like an old wagon road, although no wagons had passed on it in years. The faintest of wheel tracks could be seen along the center of the road, spaced in places where the dragon's own tracks hadn't stamped them out. The rounded husks of dried birch leaves littered the roadside, and he could occasionally hear a sharp crack as the leaves were disturbed by some small, scurrying animal.

"Do you hide your eyes from the brilliance of the sun, my forest, or me?" Farseth asked suddenly.

"The sun. It, ah, hurts my eyes," he replied dejectedly.

"Keep your eyes up. I will not have my servant and emissary mocked in public," Farseth replied. "Look. The squirrels and chipmunks laugh at you. They think you to be nothing more than a pitiful whore. You will earn their respect later, but for now, you have lost this forest through your wretched march. The mammals are a gossipy clique."

With a glance sideways, barely raising his head, John could see the cackling creatures. Squirrels and chipmunks by the dozens chased them at the edge of the road, chattering as if they laughed and jeered at him.

"You can understand them?" he asked, moving his eyes back to his feet.

A sharp rap against his right shin sent him down into a kneeling position. With his hands in the dirt and his head hung low, a fresh wave of taunts rose to a new volume. A short, pointed, growl barked from the dragon's mouth like the rumbling staccato of a bass drum, and the animals skittered off in every direction, silent.

"You will address me properly, and do as I tell you," Farseth growled close to his ear. "You will hold yourself with the dignity that I hold myself, or I will whip you far harder than a disobedient hatchling deserves. You are not a helpless and unworldly child. You are nothing but a product, a blend of what you were and what someone else wanted you to be. There is no place for you now, except here, with me."

"Why do you care?" John asked in a voice no louder than a whisper. His whole body was quivering, and he could see thick tears roll down his snout and drip into the small pool of loose semen that fell from his body.

"I desire a product of my own," Farseth replied. "I have tried before, as you surely know well, but my creation was defective. Improper discipline I suppose, but I won't make the same mistake again. You are born of the earth, but I can use his work as a framework."

"I was born from man," John said.

"Not since your transformation. The earth dragon made you a new body, and you were born of him."

"Earth dragon? There's more than one kind?" John asked. He rose up and sat on his haunches, looking up at Farseth with eyes still glistening.

"Ah, so knowledge is your nectar," the dragon said with a smirk. "You are like a hatchling, then. Very well, I will whet your appetite this once. There are four kinds of dragons in this world. The earth dragons, wind dragons, fire dragons, and water dragons. I can see from the shape of your snout and feet that you were made from an earthen catalyst. I am a dragon of the winds."

"And you...want to change me again, sir?" John asked.

Farseth's smirk grew a little wider. "That is right. You will be far easier to alter than that blasted girl was. I won't change you completely, of course, but there are some features of the air dragons that I find more prudent, and attractive."

"When?" he asked.

"Promptly, while you're still relatively fresh," the dragon replied. "Now hurry along. If the catalyst congeals any more, I'm afraid complications may occur."

Farseth turned and began to step down the dirt road again, leaving John kneeling in the filth. With a sigh, he rose to his feet and began to walk again, this time keeping his eyes fixed on the dragon's back. So he had to be changed again. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Perhaps as long as he thought he was still a man, this servitude would continue to hurt him. If he changed again, became a little less human and a little more like Farseth, like his master, then things would be alright. Maybe he could forget, and maybe he could be happy again. Moping certainly wasn't getting him anywhere.

The road dipped after the next bend, sloping down into a shallow ravine. The gurgling river ran at a fair pace through it, unbroken for as far as he could see. The road broke over a bed of stones and gravel that ran across the water, allowing passage while the water flowed seamlessly around the stones. Just off to the side of the road was a basket of sorts, a roughly-weaved container of flexible branches that held a thick grey-green sludge. Probably the crushed remains of some herbs and berries, John certainly knew that he was going to end up covered in the stuff.

"Come here," Farseth ordered, stopping next to the basket. He turned back to John, and with a deft foreclaw, scooped at the layer of semen that covered his chest. The liquid jellied and balled against his claws, and with a tsk of disgust, the dragon gave his claw a shake in the rushing river water to his right. "It's too thick to work with now. I will have to reapply. Get into the river while I prepare myself."

With the content thought that he could at least be rid of the pungent goop for a moment, John strode past the dragon and took a step into the deeper part of the river. The water was surely rigid, but against his scales it felt like little more than a soothing coolness. He kept walking, deeper and deeper, until he was in up to his chest. The semen that clung to him began to pull away from him in wisps, leaving his scales slightly dulled from stuck fast seminal fluid. Knowing full well that he was just about to get dirty again, John didn't bother to shine any part of himself, and instead turned back towards the riverbank. On the shore, Farseth was now lying on his left side, one leg kept limp and one held straight in the air, with his belly fully exposed to John. His cock hung erect, and was in the midst of being serviced by his own tongue. Farseth bobbed his lips around the first 4 inches of his shaft, just past the head, and left his twirling tongue to take care of the rest. John stood and watched him, his own shaft stirring in his sheath. When it wasn't being shoved against his own rear, the dragon's shaft looked excellently proportioned, lithe and sleek against the rest of his body.

"Go and soak yourself completely in the mixture," Farseth said after detangling his mouth from his groin. "Do not get any in your mouth."

He watched the dragon's ministrations for a moment longer, before turning his gaze on the basket. It was large enough for him to fit inside, like a big bathtub, but filled with the pungent concoction of plants. Doing his best to keep his nostrils pinched tight, he strode over and dipped one toe on his left foot into the stuff. It was a little bit warm, probably from his recent dip in the icy water, and it clung to his foot rigorously when he tried to pull away. He looked back over his head, one foot still hovering over the tub, and saw the dragon's glare upon him from over the hefty sack currently getting a wonderful tongue massage. Figuring that the dragon would simply throw him in anyway, he scrunched up his face in a grimace of pain and shoved his foot inside. The stuff got gluier the deeper he went, and when his footpad touched the bottom, it felt like his leg would never come out. His right leg when next, leaving him standing stuck fast in the center of the tub. With no little effort, he shuffled his way forward until he could sit back in the tub, which was what he did next. He more tripped backwards than sat down, but regardless, his ass hit the goop with a wet smack. At first it held, sinking a little but leaving him sitting atop the stuff, but then it began to collapse. It stuck his tail out and began to crawl up his hips and sides, slowly engulfing his lower body. It molded and contoured to his body perfectly, goop slipping into every nook and cranny. He felt it wedge between his ass cheeks and put pressure against his hole. With a decent amount of effort, he clenched his anus shut, and kept the mixture out of his body.

He was up to his waist now, with his legs completely submerged beneath the gunk. He gave his waist a few twists, but could not move at all. Farseth strode over a moment later, his erection throbbing violently while he watched John disappear ever so slowly.

"This is taking far too long," the dragon commented dryly. "I will help you settle, before we miss this chance and I have to pleasure myself all over again."

The dragon shifted around until he stood above John, and then placed his forefeet on the sinking shoulders beneath him. Leaning forward, nearly all of his weight went onto John's body, which instead of crushing him outright, simply forced him all the way down to the bottom of the basket. With only his head sticking out now, John wriggled and struggled with all his might. The dragon's cock, primed like a cannon and aimed right at him, looked like even the faintest whisper of a breeze could set it off.

"Just lie back and be calm, product," Farseth said. "We will leave the tip of your snout clear, so you can still breathe."

The pad of a clawed finger was placed over John's forehead, and gently pushed him until the back of his head began to sink into the mush.

"Now bring your master to climax." Was the last thing he heard before his ears slipped under. Next were his eyes, which he squeezed shut moments before the goop broke over his temples. He didn't dare try to open them while submerged. Opening his jaw became quite a challenge as the joint sank below the surface. He was worried that the dragon would simply drown him in this basket, but a moment later, he stopped. His nostrils and the last two inches of his snout were still free, giving him a bit of breathing room. At least until a warm, musky ring of flesh pressed down over his nostrils. He snuffled and sputtered at the flexing ring, as if he could somehow blow the obstructing hole away, but with his body completely encased in the gluey concoction, he was even more helpless than usual. He remembered the last thing Farseth had said to him before he was submerged, and jammed his tongue up through his lips and violently smacked it around inside the dragon's hole. Based on his rimming ordeal from the other night, he had a pretty good sense that if he didn't bring the dragon to orgasm, he might never get out.

The temperature was rising exponentially with the humid hole wrapped around the only sensitive part of his body. The lack of sight, sound, and feeling in any part of his body had left him in a sort of numb state. He couldn't feel the goop settling between the slots in his scales anymore, but he could feel the rippling of the anus as if it surrounded his whole body. The entirety of his being was condensed into a nose and a tongue, forced into the ass of a dragon. The musk was a hundred times more potent than he'd ever experienced before, deepening his gasping breaths. His lungs craved fresh air, but until the dragon was finished with him, the thick air would have to be enough. The rich aroma racked against his brain, bringing feelings of sexual desire to his addled mind. He felt his sheath begin to plump up, but the goop would not let the flap of skin open up. A throbbing pain rose from between his legs as his engorged shaft tried to force its way out. His tongue lashed in sloppy circles, just trying to push against every wall that he could reach. The dragon had been so close to release just moments before, John was sure it would have taken mere seconds to finish him off. To his own surprise, he wished that the dragon would just break him out and ravage his ass again, if only to get out of this predicament. He felt the familiar headache strain come on, and the edges of his vision went darker than the darkness of his eyelids. With one ditch effort, he threw his tongue straight up, straining to reach as deep as he could, and managed to find an area of stiffer flesh roughly the size of a potato. He threw his tongue against it, adding his own fluids to the already slick substances that coated the dragon's insides.

The tunnel suddenly began to spasm violently, and once again the anus was ripped off of his muzzle with a wet pop. John took his first few sputters of fresh air, and while it was indeed cooler and cleaner than the air the dragon kept locked away for him, the odor of musk was still heavy on his nostrils. Curious, he reached out with his tongue again, and this time met the warm, supple flesh that held the dragon's virility, as well as tiny droplets of a warm fluid that pattered against his taste buds. It was hot, heavy, rich, and unmistakable. His tongue retreated back into his mouth, wiping the sticky fluid away against his hard palette, only to have more of it flow into his mouth from the space between his jaws. He pressed his lips firmly together, to keep from drowning in the flood that was surely about to hit. A moment later, he felt warmth around his snout, as the thick juice settled into a pool roughly a half-inch deep.

With the dragon gone and an additional layer keeping him trapped inside the basket, John settled into a peaceful silence. There was no sound, movement, scent, other than the overpowering musk wafting from the seminal lake that surrounded his nostrils. His mind verged on numbness, trapped in a fog that no light could penetrate. He couldn't think straight, losing grip on anything coherent. It wasn't until he felt warmth begin to seep against his scales. He could feel it encompass him, slowly covering everything exposed to the mush that encased him, and he felt the pool of semen around his snout drain at the same rate. The heat and herbs settled deep into his cracks, and the only brief thought John could create was wondering what all this was for. If Farseth wanted to change him again, didn't he have to drink a potion or something first? That's what had happened the first time. But nevertheless, he felt his space inside the gluey concoction grow even tighter, especially against his head, hands and feet. He also felt an uncomfortable tightness against his upper back. His heart began to pound in his ears, his breathing came in rapid, chocking gasps, as it felt like he was being crushed inside the basket.

Although he could not see or hear differently, his body roiled as he suddenly felt like he was flipping through the air. His stomach churned, threatening to expel what little was left inside since his last meal. He rolled and rolled, until he came to a violent halt. He'd hit something, and now he was free, his arms, legs, and tail flailing limply with loose muscle. He was rolling and flipping and it was cold. He wasn't sure what was going on, but when he tried to take a breath, nothing entered his lungs but frigid pain. His throat wheezed and hacked to clear whatever had entered him, while his body tried desperately to find air somewhere in this tumultuous world he had suddenly been thrust into. His eyes stung and his back ached and his limbs throbbed, and then it stopped. He was limped, draped over something he couldn't quite comprehend. Liquid pain bubbled up from his lungs and spilled over his lips in coughing fits, while sweet, burning air filled his lungs instead. His eyes were blurry and unfocussed, but he could see a twinkling green pattern rolling and jostling before him. It sounded like someone was talking, but it only sounded like distant, muffled tones to him. For one moment longer, he was able to sense every bit of this garbled mess, and then it was lost to unconsciousness.

****

The next morning, John stood at the edge of a large, still pond. His gaze was cast straight downwards, into the crystal reflection. He hadn't been able to see the effects of his transformation the other day, so Farseth had been kind enough to let him see it now. The dragon stood just behind him, watching silently with a blank expression. Meanwhile, John's excited grin couldn't have grown any wider. He had grown taller and a bit lankier since the other day, with an increase in the definition of his muscles as well. His features were a little sharper, his snout less rounded, and his skull a more triangular. All around, he hadn't undergone the greatest change, except for one thing. Sprouting from the center of his back, like a great blue-green canvas, hung two leathery wings. Soft and smooth, he cradled them against his shoulder blades, and then threw them open with a satisfying rustle. He repeated that a few times, until Farseth cleared his throat and turned to leave. John glanced over his shoulder, saw the dragon's tail disappear around a thicket of trees, and hurried after him.

"You appear to enjoy your new body," the dragon remarked as John fell into step a pace behind him.

"It's great," John replied. "I can't wait to learn how to use them."

"Learning to fly will be your reward, when you have finished all of your other lessons and successfully mastered the tasks I will have you do."

"Of course," he said with a brisk nod.

"As for today, I will take you through one of the larger tasks I will have you performing annually. A census must be performed at the end of every season, to keep an accurate tally of the population of the forest. While you may believe that this is an impossible task, I can assure you that it is quite possible. We will split the forest into quadrants and make our way north to south."

"Yes sir," John replied, and followed his master's lead down the path with a spring in his step.