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Ch. 1 - Capture

A cruise, a joyous excursion to relax and maybe even dive. That was what Anna and her husband had in mind when they purchased tickets to take them along the pacific rim. It was a three month voyage with stops at hundreds of ports from San Francisco to Australia by way of Alaska, Korea, Japan, the Philippines and so forth. For the first leg of the voyage there was a multitude of whale sightings, dolphins, seals and even a polar bear or two. It was cold but never before had she seen the beautiful chilly islands, glaciers, or mountains of the north seas. The second leg brought with it new cultures and strange sights, smells, tastes and ideas.

During the third leg of the journey as they passed through the Indonesian islands they got to see Komodo dragons sunning themselves. Of course they were not allowed to leave the observation craft. Not only were Komodo dragons dangerous, there were a multitude of poisonous snakes, insects, and even sea life. It was a sight none the less that Anna figured she would take with her for the rest of her life. And oh how right she was.

"Alright were heading back, won't be more than an hour to reach the ship, everyone snap your final photos and take to your seats please!" The conductor announced, then waved to the pilot and the engines revved up. Anna snapped another two shots, longing to see the great lizards up close but not fool enough to try it. Their saliva was so toxic with bacteria that it could kill you alone, then worse they had venom that was deadly.

They circled the island again and came within sight of the ship. There were gasps, the ship was burning, black smoke rising from a dozen state rooms and the whole thing listing slightly to port. Before they could draw closer a handful of smaller boats came away from the large ship, their engines like a hive of bees. Machine gun fire splashed the water before them and the pilot killed the engine, "Please! We surrender." He shouted as another two rounds punctured the forward hull above the water line.

There were screams, sobs, begging and even a few fights that ended up very one sided. Piracy wasn't unheard of and as of late had grown more and more common. When they booked the cruise there had been no word of the concept and through the entire trip no one had even thought to mention that they might be victims. One by one they were bound, gagged, and dragged in to the smaller motor boats. There were already hundreds of people being ferried away along with piles of food and other supplies. One of the as of yet ungagged men asked, "What are you going to do with us?"

He was struck by an Indonesian man with a deep scar over his brow that looked like it had gouged away at the bone, "If you are lucky some one might pay to have you back." Growled the pirate.

Anna whimpered quietly as she was tossed bodily in to the bottom of a boat. An inch of salt water pooled in it, soaking her dress. She glanced up and just barely avoided having another tossed on top of her. There she huddled as the boat took off and there she slept fitfully, damp, and bruised as the sun set. Morning came and they were still at sea, a fleet of hundreds of small boats and a handful of larger ones. She was thirsty, hungry, and her bladder ached something fierce. The sea water in the boat was two inches now and stained yellow from the other prisoners. Her wrists hurt and she couldn't feel her fingertips, though she was thankful she could still wiggle them.

Shortly after noon the voyage ended at an almost tribal looking port. They were dragged up from the reeking boat and marched bodily in to something not unlike a pig pen. The ground was muddy and stinking, there was no roof, and only a crudely wrought fence of sea worn boards to hold them in. It was enough though, especially since they were still bound. At last they were fed; a trough made from a carved out log was dropped in and buckets of something pasty and pale poured in. There were no bowls, no spoons and their hands still bound, but thankfully the gags had been taken. The first few fell to their knees and ate face first, some had likely been hungry far longer than Anna herself.

In the capture she had lost her husband, but she found him again on the outskirts of the crush of bodies. She pressed close and whispered to him, "What are we going to do? No one can pay a ransom for us..." It was true, their families were dead or too poor to pay a dime. Their own funds were quite shallow, this vacation had been planned and saved for, for years.

He shook his head and she could see a dark bruise over his other eye, "I don't know Annie." He muttered then turned away to lean his head against the planks of their pen. He seemed tired and refused to look at her.

After the crush of bodies had loosened some, she too ate, finding it to be some sort of boiled grains, possibly wheat. As evening came and the shadows grew long, one by one people were lead from the pen, then brought back. They spoke of an interview, polite and genial almost, though with an edge of danger. When it was her husband's turn; he didn't come back. When the guard came again to take the next prisoner she begged him, "Where did the last man go? Where is my husband?"

The eyes of the man were shadowed and a twisted grin spread across his lips. He looked her up and down twice, then told her, "I'm sure you will be more of use than he was." He grabbed her by the arm and lead her from the pen, force marching her through low cut brush and tall trees until she came to a building on raised stilts, far inland.

She was set down in an old wooden chair and a large burly man going bald and fat sat behind a desk with steepled fingers, "Name?" He asked of her.

"Annabelle Martin." She replied and he wrote it down.

"We had a Joseph Martin before, any relation?" She was asked, to which she nodded and told honestly that he was her husband, "I see. And I suppose you as well have no potential ransom?"

She paused, realizing what that meant, "N...No." She mumbled in terror.

"Very well. See that she is washed up and put her in the pillow house with the others." He told one of the men. And she was dragged from the chair, thrust outside and marched to a cement building a short ways away. Inside she realized it was a shower, three walls and a hose.

She screeched as her clothes were torn from her, the sleeves cut open, the back ripped, her bra and underwear simply cut off. Standing there, naked, muddy and trembling, she stared with wide eyes at the other, fearing the worst. He didn't pay her naked body much care however and just grabbed the hose, turned a knob, and out came tepid water at high pressure. The water stung her skin and quickly grew cold. She shivered and turned away from the painful blast and he just soaked her down, washing the grime, dirt, and mud from her. He made a little game of slashing the spray across the cleft between her legs when ever he had an angle to do so from front or back and she just squeaked in pain.

She wasn't particularly old, in her mid thirties. Joseph hadn't wanted children and so no kids back home. For that she supposed she was thankful, no one to be left an orphan. That thought suddenly crystallized in her mind, she was going to die here, far away from home with no one to care either way. Tears welled on her cheeks but were lost in drenched hair. The hose turned off and she was marched, dripping and shivering from the stall and back out in to the steamy forest. Her bare feet stumbled over rough ground and ahead she saw another stilt house, this one looking closer to a prison; with bars on the windows and a heavy metal door for an entrance.

He thrust her up the stairs and the door opened before him. He spoke in a language she didn't know and the man inside reached for her. She flinched away but he just grabbed her by the hair and dragged her in to the dimly lit room beyond. There were a dozen rooms, more cells than bedrooms; but once she was thrown in to one she found it almost comfortable. There was a bed with soft mattress, pillows, a lamp, a handful of books in languages she didn't know, a toilet and a sink. Suddenly her wrists were jerked up and she felt a knife slide between, then cut the bonds that held her. Before she could do anything however the door locked with a thunk behind her, she spun and stared at the window in it at the face of her captor, then he was gone.

There she stood, dripping on the concrete floor and down the drain while rubbing her sore wrists. She used the toilet first, relief she hadn't had to soil her self like so many of the others in the pen. The little room was hot, so she opened the window and stared out in to the dark jungle beyond. The screen kept the insects at bay, but there were unfamiliar sounds and scents that set her on edge. She had a suspicion what was going to be done with her but she tried her best not to think of it.

Ch. 2 - Use

Morning came and she woke with tears and cried out for Joseph, yet he was not there. A few minutes later a meal was brought, far better than the boiled grains; an unfamiliar fruit, fried fish and a flat dry biscuit. It was all seasoned strangely and burned her tongue, but she ate. When it was done she set the tray aside and sat, hunched up, naked under the blanket, and began to cry again. Some time in the night the reality had struck her, she was really here, prisoner to violent criminals and her husband was really dead. When she closed her eyes she could still see his face, all smiles with eyes sparkling.

The door entered and in stepped a man, a man she knew. The scar over his brow was familiar, he had been the one to capture her, "You..." She whispered, then swallowed and asked, "What are you going to do with me?"

He replied in strongly accented English, "I won first rights to you last night in a game." His grin was wide over unkempt teeth. She shivered and pressed her back against the wall with the blankets drawn tight to her chest. He reached down and grabbed a fold of blanket and jerked it from her grasp, exposing her nakedness. Slowly those dark eyes of his caressed her body; from the hollow of her throat to the swell of her breasts, the crease of her hip with knees drawn to her chest. Then between, the cleft of her sex visible between her ankles with its tuft of tangled blond hair.

"No, please..." Anna begged and shifted her legs slightly to cover herself.

"Spread your legs girl." He ordered, at her refusal he drew a knife from his belt and flashed morning sunlight from the blade across her face, "I cannot kill you, but he said nothing about making you bleed."

Her eyes focused on that edge, a good knife, sharp, a diving knife. With her gut fluttering and her heart beating a mile a minute, she let her legs fall open, slowly, and a flush of shame crept up her chest and throat. Those dark eyes settled upon her breasts for a moment, the pink nipples small atop pert tear drop breasts. Then they roamed lower, over her tight bunched up stomach to the mound of her sex, "Good girl." He told her and sheathed his knife again, "I hear American girls are all sluts and whores, play with yourself for me girl."

Her eyes closed and reluctantly her hand fell between her thighs. She was neither a slut nor a whore, she had only bedded her husband. Aside from him she had never looked upon another penis in her life; yet the thought of it sent a strange thrill to her core. She stroked between her folds, and found, to her shame, she was damp already. She sobbed once then obeyed him, giving herself pleasure as her gut twisted in humiliation and fear. She blocked him out, the sight of him, the scent of him, the sound of him until all there was, was her. She fantasized that it was Joseph looking at her with those lust filled eyes, not this beast of a man.

She was taken unaware, one moment lost in her own fantasy, her stomach clenching and bringing herself close to orgasm; the next moment hands were on her knees pulling her thighs apart and dragging her down the bed. Her eyes opened at last to see him, bare from the waist down with a modest penis poking up from a thatch of black hair. She could smell him, musty with old sweat and acrid with a hint of urine. He penetrated her and at the sensation of her molten center, he sighed, "I was right, sluts, all of you. Tell me girl, you want me." He ordered while leaning over her. She trembled with disgust as his penis penetrated her, she could feel his weight on her hips, heavy, the girth of him stretching her.

She didn't want him, she wanted Joseph, but she knew if she said that he would hurt her, "Yes..." She whispered with tears in her eyes. Then he kissed her stiff lips. She wanted to turn away from him, breath foul and slimy tongue disgusting as it forced its way between her lips. He thrust in to her, sharp and violent, then pulled away to stare down at her.

"Beg me for my children girl, beg the honor of my seed." He demanded. The thought made her shudder but she had taken her pills the day before, there would be no child from him. That thought made her cry even harder, the birth control would wear off in a matter of days or weeks.

At her silence he struck her, palm to cheek. She saw stars a moment and cried all the harder. At his insistence she finally choked out between sobs, "P...Please impregnate me. I... I want you." She told him and the words left a sour taste in her mouth. He thrust harder and demanded more; she had expected to just be used like a piece of furniture, not forced to participate. She begged more, in her mind she begged for him to stop, but the words came out else wise, "Please fuck me, I... I'm yours!" She had never talked dirty for her husband, she didn't really know how. Suddenly she came, she had been so close before he penetrated her, a few of his thrusts brought her over the edge. She screamed in horrified shame and orgasmic pleasure while her depths clenched violently upon him.

It was over a moment later. He jerked and gasped and emptied himself inside of her. She laid there with nerves on fire and body trembling as his hot semen pooled inside of her. He pulled out then and discarded her like a used rag. He paid her not another thought as he took a piss in the toilet, no more than two feet from her head. She glanced over at him, the shriveled pink flesh of his cock with its foreskin hanging limp and loose, rippling as urine poured from him. She shuddered then turned away, to curl up about her middle as his leavings dribbled slowly out of her and down her thigh. Shame, humiliation, hatred and terror warred for dominance in her heart.

After him others came, she was beaten when the second man found her still filthy with the mess from the prior, she dubbed him the smiler. Through his beating she learned to wash herself after each use. The third came and she was beaten some more but this time she could find no cause for his anger. The fourth one forced her to use her mouth on his unwashed uncut prick. She threw up in his lap and was beaten some more. The next dozen used her sex and ass or both without caring whether she had been cleaned or even paid attention. By sun down she felt broken, as if she had once been a beautiful glass window and now shattered in a million pieces upon the floor.

Dinner came, more fish and fruit; she didn't even look at the tray. She could only lay there with the mess of half a dozen men drying between her legs as her emotions curled up and died. She cried herself to sleep that night as well as the next hundred. Days blurred in to a mechanical thing; eat, wash, sex, wash, sex, wash, sex, pain. Some were kind, some were cruel, the worst was the scarred man who called her his wife with a sneer on his face. By three months she knew she was pregnant, who's it was, she didn't care. She felt an impossible hatred for the parasite growing in her womb, nearly as much hatred as she felt for every man on the island.

Ch. 3 - Sacrifice

Two weeks later, give or take, she woke with a certainty. Today was the day she would die. It wasn't premonition, it wasn't any magical foresight, it was simple determined fact. Today was the day she would die, because she would make it so. Scarface came in the morning with her meal. When ever he came with her meal, she knew it was tainted. He enjoyed spitting in her food, pissing in it, ejaculating in it, just to see if she would eat it knowingly. She did. Today her gruel tasted of piss and her fish had an extra glaze of cream. She didn't care, she ate as if it was a fine delicacy and for all she knew, perhaps somewhere it was. When she was done she spread her legs for him and began to masturbate, her hips trembling as her dead eyes fell on his with a false come-hither look.

She didn't need to say anything, just stared in to his eyes, feeling nothing but hatred. She orgasmed for him, yet felt no joy, no pleasure as moisture gushed from between her loose well worn folds. He stepped to her and unbuckled his pants to expose himself. She crawled forward on hands and knees and sank her face between his thighs; he wanted her participation, he wanted her to want him. His small member came to life between her lips, the tip of him poking out through the fold of his foreskin. She slid her tongue inside of it and cleaned the filthy inside, then rolled back the skin to suckle at him. She was skilled now, she knew how to please a man, especially him. She opened her mouth farther and took his scrotum between her lips. Sweat and grime filled her mouth, nearly made her gag, but she suckled at him until she felt him growing close.

His cock twitched, once, ready to spill himself in to her. She bit. Her teeth were sharp, her jaw was strong, and his flesh parted under her grip. In one moment he had gone from man in charge to screaming girl with his bits dangling bloody from her lips. She spat them in the toilet and flushed while he writhed on the floor in agony, "You Bitch!" He screamed and tried to hold back the flood of blood that gushed between his legs. Over and over again he called her a bitch. She kicked him in the hand covering his groin with a heel and felt bones crack. She ground down, snarling with vicious hatred as he screamed all that much louder.

Then with a deft hand she grabbed the diving knife from his pants on the floor and slammed it down in to his stomach. There was a sudden stench as his stomach opened and intestines fell out. She wrenched upward, cutting until she met his ribs... then she withdrew the blade and lifted it up to plunge in to her own heart. A hand stopped her, grasping her wrist, another hand tangled in her hair, a third hand wrenched the blade from her grasp, "No..." She whispered, "No No!" She cried as she was pinned down to the bed and cuffed in place.

The dying man was dragged from the room, still screaming though his voice growing weaker. The stench of his dying still filled the air however for hours after. Her door hung open, taunting her with escape; yet she was bound hand and foot to the bed. Hours passed before anyone came to pay her any mind. It was the fat balding man with an expression of amused disgust, "My men tell me you tried to kill yourself. Too quick I must say. It took Toro eight hours to die; it should take you at least as long." His smile widened and he said to her, "I know... You were found taking pictures of the dragons... Why don't we do a traditional sacrifice, hmm? Have you ever dreamed of being eaten by a dragon?" He crouched at the side of her bed and continued to grin, "They don't eat you alive, you know, they bite and wait for your flesh to mortify, they wait for you to become a disease ridden corpse before tearing in to your purifying flesh. I am told it takes a very very long time."

She just glared up at him then spat in his eye. Her saliva was still pink with blood from scarface's new cunt, "Go to hell." she muttered.

"Now now, you first, dear maiden." He told her, then stepped from the room, chuckling to himself.

The night passed slowly, she couldn't sleep with her body bound so uncomfortably and his words rattling around her mind. She knew what he said was true, they would kill her slowly, horribly. Her gut churned with terror. When they came from her, it was before dawn; three men with no kindness in their eyes. Whatever she might have fantasized, of help, escape, or a quick death; it would not come from these. She was dragged from her "home" and through the jungle. She refused to walk and they didn't seem to care. Her protruding stomach bumped against the ground occasionally, her hips were scraped raw, her knees bloody, but she didn't care about that either.

They bound her over a seat in the boat, belly down, and started out as the sun began to rise. The day passed slowly, her back burned under the sun and her stomach ached for food and thirst. Past noon one of the boys got it in his head to use her exposed rear and she was again raped. All three took their turns with her, twice before they arrived, and her crotch was a mess of dry semen and gummed together pubic hair and labia. She felt no shame anymore, only a deep terrified sorrow.

They beached the boat and fired off a couple rounds to scare the giant lizards back. Then they took a moment or two to find a suitable spot. A large lumpy stone with enough room under it to run a rope. She was laid on it, her sunburned back against hot gritty granite. She sobbed in pain, but they ignored her. Two bound her while the third stood watch, wary of a giant lizard getting in range. Her arms were wrenched above her head and her knees pulled open over the stone and bound, tucked under it, below. Her pregnant belly protruded rudely above herself and her sex was exposed to the sun; she could feel it baking already. Her head just fell back and she wept still as the men marched away. They went out to sea yet stayed close enough to watch for a while.

Ch. 4 - Sickness

When they returned, the lumbering beasts settled down to sun themselves. One of the largest however took an interest in her plight. She cried all the louder as its wide head came near hers; its rancid breath made her gag as it sniffed over her face and throat. A wide forked tongue slid out and left a sticky trail over her breast. It didn't however bite yet, to that she wasn't sure if she was thankful or longing for. The sooner it bit, the sooner she died; yet the sooner it bit the sooner she died... a tough choice.

It circled her, tasting here and there. It stopped between her legs, its breath hot against her thighs and tickled the gummed up fur of her snatch. She shivered a little and closed her eyes as that tongue slithered out once again to taste her. It perhaps recognized the scent and taste of semen, some how, at least that was what she told herself as it drew back and the beast climbed atop of the stone. His shadow was more than enough to cover her entire body as he stood over her. She glanced down in to its frightful face and felt a moment of strange yearning. It seemed to be staring at her, with bloody intent or otherwise; yet she could read no expression upon his scaled face.

A splash of moister ran over her thigh. She glanced down to see his cloaca opening, a rivulet of brownish filth dribbling down on to the stone between her legs. Then his penis emerged, glistening pink flesh, moist and messy. There was a strange euphoric laugh that bubbled up her throat, "Are you a pirate too my executioner?" She asked of the dragon, then began to cry a second later. He lowered his heavy body over her until that slimy protruding flesh butted against her entrance. She was gummed shut with dried cum, but he pressed until pubic hair ripped with a yelp of pain and he sank to the hilt in her cunt. He was wholly inhuman, nothing like the men who had raped her for these long months, with a blunt wide head and a narrow shaft all covered in slime.

His thrusts were slow and powerful. They made her stomach jerk upward and her hips lift away from the stone, dragged there by his own. She sobbed breathless sobs as he wrenched the breath from her lungs and crushed against her chest with his heavy body. He fucked her, to her surprise, better than any of the men who had used her; in fact she felt more pleasure at his touch than even her almost forgotten Joseph. Suddenly she moaned and arched herself in to the dragon's thrusts; if she could have she would have wrapped her legs around his tail and held him in to her. As it was she was helpless to do not but endure his slow methodical mating.

Within her he grew larger as his arousal increased and more blood flowed in to the already engorged flesh that plied her entrance. Moisture oozed from him, slicking her entire crotch in a reeking brownish film with each thrust. Some of it was even pushed inside of her as he bred her. From the sea she heard laughter as the men watched her mate with the beast; she wondered what they thought of her, proving her an American slut most like. She didn't care, if she was a slut, it was their doing and she lifted herself hungrily to her mate, her body shuddering with each of his brutal impaling jerks.

She came twice before it was over, her body writhing and twitching under his heavy pinning body. But each time it made him swell just a little bit larger until she felt as if her cunt might burst open, torn by the massive intrusion. He couldn't even pull his head out anymore, trapped behind her tighter entrance. And then he woofed a breath and she felt his body seize up. A gush of liquid splashed in to her, then another. Her womb drank his inhuman seed, her mind craved it, as if some sort of purification to cleanse her body of the taint of man.

When he was done he pulled off and laid down upon the sand next to the stone. For a while she just laid there, trembling as the mess between her legs cooled and dried. None of his semen poured from her, her hips raised the way they were and her entrance felt swollen. She thought nothing of it, just enjoyed the liquid feel of his release within her. Some how she forgot that she would soon die, some how she forgot that she was to be sacrificed like a princess of old. These dragons were hardly the noble beasts of legend, but she of course she was no pure bred maiden of virtue.

The sun slowly roasted her as it set and as night came upon her, she felt hot. Her skin ached and burned, her sex was on fire, labia sunburned inside and out. Every inch of her felt worn, drawn, and burning. She slept like that, bound to the stone and expected to wake in the night with teeth in her flesh; but for now she was content to sleep her remaining hours away. Some time before nightfall the men had left, the growl of their boat drifting off in to the distance. She was alone with her beasts now, yet still had no hope of escape; so she didn't hope.

Morning came with a new fire; not just the sunburn but her sex ached and felt swollen. Her body was shivering yet feeling horribly hot at the same time, she knew, deep down, it was the onset of infection. Quietly she cried as delirium set in over her mind. Another of the beasts climbed atop her, or perhaps it was the same as the first. Either way her fever ridden mind couldn't tell the difference as it too mated with her. The penetration had been agony, her swollen aching folds stretched around its spire and swallowed it in to her hot depths. She could see herself over her belly, labia protruding upward, swollen and red. The skin was tight and shiny and looked ready to burst like a grape.

She climaxed under him as well, though lost in fever dream it became some sort of strange explosion of fire and beast that ate at her soul. She wet herself, and the coolness of her urine seemed to soothe the fire in her loin, though it didn't last as the dragon continued to rape her. When he was done a third came to her. By now the sun was half way up the sky and she could feel the heat of it bathing her body. That too gave strange imagery to her delirium, like thousands of tiny bee stings landing upon every mote of her skin. It prickled and stung as blisters formed, but all she saw were bees in her minds eye.

The third took her the wrong way. She didn't realize what was going on at first, just another great dragon climbing a top of her body and shielding her from the terrible sun. His cloaca swelled open above her face, and for a moment she thought it was a mouth coming to kiss her. She leaned forward to return the kiss as filth washed her face. It was sour, it stunk bad, but it was just bad breath, morning breath perhaps; poor Joseph always had morning breath yet she had kissed him when waking. The "tongue" slithered out and she suckled at it for a moment, cleansing the filthy slime from its skin and swallowing. Her throat was parched so this she was thankful for. She licked and suckled like a good slut, remembering how many times she had served her captors. She did it willingly now, forgetting the kiss, forgetting Joseph. She realized it was the dragon, yet she didn't care.

He hit the back of her throat and began to thrust as if it were her cunt. She choked and swallowed, gagged and heaved. Her stomach was empty though and all that came up was a splattering of acidic that burned her throat. She swallowed again as more of him emerged; the cloaca before her eyes engorged and prolapsed outward. There was a constant rivulet of slimy filth that ran down the underside of his length, she drank it, thirsty. She knew she was already dead, so what could it hurt. She felt no shame in what she did, it sated her thirst and kept it out of her eyes.

His thrusts grew violent as his head lodged in her throat, barely able to move deeper or retreat; he seemed to enjoy that. She swallowed and he slid further. She could breathe no more than gasps around the intrusion, sucked through the seminal duct along its underside. It made a sticky slurping sound and the vibrations caused the beast to shudder and buck harder. Her head was crushed against the stone, its cloaca mushed down over her face, and that member slid so far down her throat that her neck bulged and she would have screamed if she could. She was half drowned in the filthy reeking swamp of its slit, yet some how she found pleasure in it. Her fever wracked mind hungered for him, she wanted to please him, and at the same time she hoped she would suffocate or drown when he was finished.

Neither was to be however, when the dragon released, the torrent of sticky semen poured down her throat and made her belly swell. His cloaca around her nose and mouth pulsed and throbbed with each release, the seminal duct swelled closed, yet still a smear of it leaked out to coat her mouth and throat before exiting down her gullet. She drank him happily and her body writhed under his thrusts, her aching, swollen cunt begging for another inside of it. Then as the last gush of him spilled to her stomach, he pulled free with a great hard jerk that nearly tore her throat... and it was over.

There may have been others during the day that used her; but her only memories were fever dreams. Her mouth and throat ached, her face was swollen and her bowels were lose with infection. She felt herself growing dehydrated as the sun baked her and she shat herself helplessly. All she remembered from that day and night was pain and suffering so great she thought she should be dead every second of it.

Ch. 5 - Birth and Rebirth

Anna's first memories were of aching pain and terrible hunger. Her body was cold as ice, her skin prickled with goosebumps, and still she felt sick. She had heard of such things, after an infection won, the heat would fail, the fever caused by an immune response. Though her body ached she felt clear headed however. She also found that the binding on her wrist was lose, it hadn't been before, but now she worked her hand free and reached down to touch her stomach. It was huge, swollen and warm against her fingers. The skin was smooth and tight, it was also textured from blisters on top of blisters; or so she thought. She reached back and managed to undo the binding on her other wrist.

Carefully she managed to sit up and nearly fell back again with dizziness. The sky was dark with night, yet no stars in it. In the distance she heard a rumbling of a storm and saw dim flashes of lightning far beyond the horizon. Her ankles came next and soon she was freed entirely, sitting upon the messy stone and trembling with cold. She was alone, the dragons likely going somewhere else for the night, though she knew not where. She stepped to the rocky beach and made her way to the wash of waves. It was high tide she figured, not remembering the beach being so close before. She sank under the salty water and carefully washed herself. It felt warmer than her body, yet she shivered more as she bathed.

Then she stumbled from the beach and in to the forest beyond. It was darker here and she only went a short way before stumbling over something and falling in to a leafy mess of molding branches and moss. There she sat, content enough not to move. She was too exhausted from that short walk to even think of going somewhere else.

The storm raged as it came toward the island. The water was whipped to whitecaps and thrashed at the shore. Before long the stone she had been on was half drowned in surging water. Then came the rain, hot against her skin and half drowning her in the hollow she had fell. She climbed out of it at last and found a higher patch to sit and wait it out. The thunder and lightning shook her, yet she felt no fear of it... even when it startled her, sparking off a tree no more than a hundred feet away. Her hair stood on end and her body jumped; yet she did not fear it.

The sun rose, dim behind the hot summer storm, and she could see herself for the first time. Her stomach was protruding, thick and heavy; but from her navel down was a triangular trail of brownish scales; not unlike the Komodo Dragon. Her pubic hair was gone, and between her legs was just a single messy slit, no separate anus or vagina. She trembled again in confused wonder, and washed herself in rain water as her fingers probed at her strange depths. Her skin was burnt to a crisp in other places, but below the scabbing blisters were signs of scales. Where ever the skin had grown thin and weak, scales protruded. Her back was another story, thick unburnt skin, clean as smooth.

Her mouth tasted horrible, likely from the shit she had drank directly from the dragon's cloaca. The memory made her shiver with revulsion. Her teeth were strangely clean though, whatever bacteria it was that produced the plaque was gone. Her canine teeth were also longer and her gums and jaw ached. Her tongue had also changed she found when she tried to speak; a forked member, a good deal longer than it had been before. She began to fear this was just a fever dream, a vivid, real dream, and in truth she was in the process of drowning out there in the storm. But though she pinched herself, she never woke from it.

Hours in to the storm, well past the brightest part of the day; a pain ripped through her stomach. It was sharp and terrible, like a sword being driven through her gut. She had bad cramps and gas pains in the past, but nothing of the sort had felt like this. She screamed and arched her back as hands clutched over her navel. Inside she felt things shift and bump as muscles clenched and twisted upon themselves. Another sharp spear of pain and a rush of blood, mucus and shit poured from her cloaca on to the leafy ground. She gagged at the feel of it, a strange sickening watery feel. A moment later another gush of liquid, this clearer and a much heavier flow. With it her stomach shrank some.

Minutes passed and the pains came and went, each one worse than the last. She could do nothing to stop it or relieve it when it came, she could only surrender to it and let the agony wash over her, waiting for it to end. Then came a point where the pain didn't stop but grew and grew until she felt she was being torn in two. Then a heavy egg fell from between her labia. An hour later a second and third followed, then lastly a fourth. When it was over she laid there, trembling, curled around her eggs in bewildered love. They were her eggs her mind said, and it responded with incredulity at the thought of her laying eggs. But she reminded herself, "I am now half dragon, why not eggs?"

That night wore on with the torrential storm, but by morning it had cleared and she slept soundly, tucked around her eggs protectively. When she woke the sun was halfway through the sky and a wide nose was pressing in to her flank. She glanced down to see a massive Komodo Dragon. It took her a moment to recognize those piercing eyes, "you.." She whispered, her voice a lisp between her tongue forks. In its jaws hung a piece of meat and Anna's mouth watered. It smelled foul, yet she didn't care, instinct overruled and she sank her teeth in to it. It tasted sweet as juices gushed down her throat and she swallowed great mouth fulls of the diseased flesh. The beast came about her as she ate and sniffed at the eggs, then between her legs.

Her thighs parted for him and his wide forked tongue slithered out to taste her messy entrance. She shivered and let out a soft moan before returning to her feast. Her stomach swelled, this time with satiated hunger, and before long she was on her hands and knees, letting her Dragon breed her anew. Now she was familiar with his thrusts, now she was whole hale and free. She offered herself up to him willingly and took his bulging spire in to her. She still ached deep inside from the birth, but she didn't care, she wanted him as much as anything else.

Months later she was still there, hunting, breeding, and playing with her kin. Her eggs hatched and her stomach was swelling with fresh life. She belonged to him though, no other male was allowed to have her, and she was fine with that. Two or three times a week he took his right of her body, and she thrashed, moaned, and begged for it like she had never done for scarface. Four months in she laid again, this time less painful than the first. Another month in the eggs hatched, four baby dragons, the only thing to suggest they had a human mother were a strange glint of blue in their eyes.

Ch. 6 - Revenge

With ten of her eldest children at her side she set out to sea. They swam far and long and more by instinct than knowledge she found the island she only vaguely remembered. It was hunger and hatred that drove her. Memories of her past before her dragon kin were vague and flighty, but there was one clear memory, so strong that she could never forget it.

The ragged tribal port was dilapidated now, but there were still a few dozen boats. It had been years since she had seen a human, she barely resembled one now but for the fact that she still walked upon two legs and her face had only the bluntest of muzzles. They found the guard, sleeping with an assault rifle splayed across lap. She gingerly set it aside, then straddled the man's lap, and woke him with a kiss. Her bacteria laden tongue sank between his lips and she moaned in to the kiss. She the American slut, coming home for a feast.

His eyes fluttered open and he tried to scream, but she held his mouth closed, tangled her tongue with his, and felt him struggle. She was stronger than he by far, no longer the frail girl she had been. Her stomach bulged with two months of pregnancy, another two would see another clutch of eggs; but she took a moment of pleasure from this one. Her claws ripped his pants open and she found his pathetic penis and brought it to life. She sank upon it, feeding it to her hungry and filthy cloaca. Within minutes sickness would settle in to his flesh, within hours he would die, but before that she rode him until his expired little prick emptied between her folds.

She was done with him then, she pushed him down and straddled his face, pressing her messy slit over his nose and mouth, "Eat if you wish to live." She told him mockingly and squeezed the mixture of his semen and her filth between his lips. He ate, he licked, he suckled... and slowly but surely his body heated under her, soothingly so. She was always so cold when the sun was hidden, the heat of fever in him was pleasant, truly. There she curled about him and snuggled for a while, giving him only tiny gasps of breath from between her sodden thighs.

When he died, she and her children feasted upon him and hunted for the next human. The fat balding man, the smiler, the keeper of the pillow house; one by one until there was not a man alive on the entire island. When she was done she settled down and waited for the sun to rise, listening to the crunch of bone and slurp of her children as they feasted. Here would be a new home for her and her young, a place she had such fond memories of. Without them, without the horrible humans, she would have never found her true nature upon the sea shore, under her Dragon.

End