Cynder's Persuasive Proposal 3
Markus's allies come to save him, only to find the truth!
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A week has passed since Markus has left to take on the dangerous dragoness. And although Cynder’s reign of terror has not poured out upon the world, the tension of having to deal with the possibility of her creating chaos has everyone on edge.
And so, two more adventurers, soft-scaled dragons like Markus, venture to her keep. They brave the many dangers and finally arrive at the final door. The first of the two pushes the door open while the other readies a magical spell to fire off against the vile temptress.
When the light strikes the inner chamber of Cynder’s throne room, the two would-be rescuers freeze, staring in disbelief at the strange and unnerving sight before them.
Cynder sits upon her throne, smirking and looking upward. One elbow rests on the arm of her chair, her palm supporting her cheek as she looks with smug boredom toward the two newcomers.
It’s what she holds in her other hand that has the two of them so stunned. Her dress is removed and hangs off her hips, leaving her top exposed for the express purpose of the creature that sits upon her lap, cradled in her other arm.
It is Markus. He lies there on her throne. The dragon dresses in a simple tunic. No longer does he need to fight against anyone. No longer does he need armor. All he needs is to happily suckle away at his mistress's teat, hungrily lapping and slurping as some of her milk dribbles down his cheeks. His eyes are closed in a hypnotic delight filled with the knowledge that he has everything he could ever want.
“And just who are you?” she asks, frowning even as Markus continues his meal, “interrupting my precious son’s feeding time… how rude you are.”
The first of the two adventurers falls to their knees, staring in disbelief at the state of their hero and friend. The second places a hand on their shoulder and stands up, clenching their fist. “Unbind him from that spell of yours, you foul witch!”
She snorts. “What spell?” she says, patting his head, petting him gently. “My precious baby is delighted where he is. Isn’t he?”
Markus coos, snuggling up against it. He pulls his lips free from her tit for just a moment, gasping and licking his lips, lapping up the last remnants of the milk before he turns to face the two. “Y-yeah… This is perfect. It’s paradise here. I get as much milk as I could possibly want!”
“But…” the fallen rescuer says, rubbing their head. “We did so much to… to help you… we thought… that you and… she… and…”
Squeezing their shoulder, the second rescuer then turns toward the two, pointing at Markus. “You betray your people… for milkies!?”
“It’s so good!” Markus says, latching onto it again, sucking hungrily, the slurping sounds echoing throughout the chamber.
“If it makes you feel any better,” says Cynder, fluttering her eyes. “I haven’t had much inclination to do any villainy since my dear boy showed up. He gives me all the stimulation I need. It kicks in that missing maternal instinct I’ve been looking for.”
“I can’t believe this isn’t some trick!” says the hero.
“Well, why don’t you come here and find out?” asks the sorceress, slipping her hand from the head of her baby boy and to her free tit. “There’s enough milk for another one here, but I”m afraid I only have two tits.”
The new interloper growls, their tails mashing against the ground.
“As long as your precious Markus is here, you have nothing to worry about,” the dommy dragon says, showing her teeth. “He was the only one capable of facing off against me, and he decided to join my team, latching to my breast for all time. Just go home, enjoy your lives, and pray I don’t grow bored of him.”
“I won’t allow it!” The warrior says, pulling out their staff and pointing it toward Cynder. Their eyes glow as magic swirls around the tip of the implement. As they speak the magical words, Markus unlatches from the tit and leaps off, his sword flying to him from behind the chair.
He clashes with the staff, sending it to the ground. He then spins around, kicking his would-be rescuer in the chest. They fall back and land next to their morale-destroyed friend, staring up at Markus as he looks down at them with disdain.
When neither stands back up, he turns and walks back to his surrogate mother, dropping his sword to a clatter on the floor and crawling right back on her lap. There, she leans in, allowing him to reach and take that breast and bring it right back to his lip.
She coos and gives him sweet nothings before she looks right back up at the two dismayed heroes. “There you have it,” she says. “He’s too far gone to be useful to you.”
The heroes have no choice that evening but to turn away with their heads hanging low and the shame welling within them. What they thought was a rescue mission turned into their greatest failure, as even though they were so-called heroes, they couldn’t bring themselves to do anything about their friend turned into a milk-drinking fiend. Perhaps they were the greatest failures in the land? Maybe it is Cynder’s time as the greatest ruler? They are anxious about what they will do in the future; they can only hope that Cynder will stay complacent so long as Markus remains with her.
Back inside her palace, the two of them continue to sit there, the motherly dragoness cooing and leaning in, placing a kiss upon the baby’s forehead, and the fallen warrior, happily drinking from her never-ending lactation, the two of them completing each other like some evil circle of debauched delight.
And he doesn’t care. All that matters is the sweet, warm liquid that pours out of her breast and into his mouth, which will provide all the comfort he will ever need forevermore.