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Tav's many rituals for cooking had to play out in perfect order before, during, and after the process in which he combined his many exotic ingredients into a presentable meal. Sometimes palatable, sometimes not, it wasn't whether or not the final product tasted good that he fretted over, but rather that he'd managed to put together a fantastic looking dish passable for the most critical of customers. His passion for the art of food brought him to some of the furthest reaches of Faerûn for ingredients he'd read about, buying them from vendors, plucking them from their plants, or harvesting them from the animals he had hunted himself.

Once all things were gathered as well as an idea of what to concoct, Tav set to work in The Forge, what he called his kitchen. Between the counters where he would chop and dice the ingredients to the oven or the pot where they would cook, the dragonborn would dart at a constant, fretful pace. The stone kitchen would be doused in the steamy, pungent smell of food. There was the constant crackle of fire, either keeping the broth at a boil or glowing inside the oven which he would breathe life into with a stoker on occasion. Chop-chop-chop went his knife, the muscles which bulged along his arm twitching underneath earthy brown scales. His beady yellow eyes drilled into whatever task was in front of him, unflinching even in the rising haze of smoke or steam. The apron and tunic he wore projected modesty unlike the supremely athletic physique he'd honed out of a life of adventure.

A simple sweetroll was on the menu tonight. The recipe was something he'd doted on for some time now. Relatively inexperienced when it came to desserts, he intended on getting it right the first time and having a product that would satisfy and impress. Tav stood at his counter with all the ingredients gathered in front of him like the soldiers of a regiment, ready to follow orders. There'd been a slight hiccup upon finding out he was out of milk, but that was quickly resolved upon the discovery of some milk substitute hidden in the back of one of his cabinets. He didn't recall exactly what it was or where he'd gotten it, but he didn't have time to think about it. He had a sweetroll to bake.

His dance across the kitchen commenced. The flours, powders, sugars, and eggs were all chucked into a wooden bowl per his demanding ratios and specifications. After he'd split two spotted eggs and put the shells aside (they would make for a good garnish) he poured in the “milk". It came in a small glass bottle sealed like a mason jar. Popping it open unveiled the most peculiar smell, not unlike milk, but not entirely the same either. He put the bottle's neck to his nose and took two deep whiffs. “Nnf!" It zapped him like a dose of smelling salts, making him recoil away and rattle his head. A shiver drizzled down his scales and made his cloaca twinge. “Oh yes," he said with a grin. “You'll do nicely."

The substance went into the bowl, splashing about the powders and yolks nicely before settling into a grainy pool. Tav cradled the bowl to his abdomen and stabbed a whisk inside to begin stirring. The tendons in his forearm bulged as he struck a blur. Soon the mix was a nice, dark brown batter. He took care pouring it into a mold before opening the oven. Out billowed a storm of heat, and in went the food. He closed the oven door and turned over an hourglass.

It was going to be a while before it was ready. Luckily, there was still work to do. While the sweetroll baked in the oven Tav went ahead and prepared an icing glaze. There was still some of that milk in the bottle. He was sure to use the rest of it. The temptation to take a sip was strong, but he managed to resist. Wait for the sweetroll, he told himself. I'm sure it will come out perfectly. When the icing was finished he spent the remaining hour stoking the fire and monitoring the baking process. He watched as the last few grains tumbled into the bottom half of the hourglass, then immediately opened the oven. The oven mitts went on, and he very carefully removed the sweetroll in its mold and set it on a counter. There he took even greater caution in lifting the mold off the cake. The cast iron came off slowly, and in its wake was a perfectly round, perfectly tasty looking sweetroll.

Tav's stomach rumbled at the sight of it. His fork tongue ran across his lips, but he could not satiate himself with a bight. Not yet. He drew from the bowl with the icing and drizzled it along the full circumference of the roll's summit, completing a nice and even glaze that drooled down its delectable slopes and pooled onto the counter below. Without breaking his gaze from the sweetroll, he put the icing bowl aside. It certainly looked like a masterpiece. A vendor would've been proud to put it on their counter for sale, or so Tav hoped. It was almost a shame he had to ruin it by taking off a slice and eating it. He grabbed a fork and knife and cut off a small wedge of cake. Steam billowed from its many flakes and dimples. Tav's nostrils flared. His tummy rumbled again. With one more lick of the lips, he opened his mouth and took a bite.

It was good. Very, very good. His reptilian eyes lit up as he slid the fork out through his lips and then swallowed. That delightful buzz he'd gotten from sniffing the milk substitute was back, this time radiating from his stomach where he felt the warmth and weight of that one morsel settling nicely. “Mmmm, that's perfect." His knife and fork were already hacking off another piece. He chuckled to himself. If I'm not careful I'll end up eating the whole thing in one sitting.

That's exactly what he did. He hardly recognized what he was doing before he started shoveling more and more down his gullet. A sort of trance guided his utensils and kept his eyes wide. That buzzing in his stomach had turned into a muscle-fizzling roar that made his toes curl in their shoes. Each swallow would make the sensation blossom into something brighter. Slaver fell from his mouth. Clots of chewed cake stained his fangs. This wasn't just a masterpiece. This was his opus, the crème de la crème. He wanted more.

Alas, the sweetroll was not eternal, and when his utensils finally clattered to the counter, he was left panting and portly, leaning on the counter so that he wouldn't fall over. “Whew… Ahhh… What have I done? Oof…" A terrible presence clawed at his gut, as one would expect after consuming an entire dessert meant to serve three people at least. He felt terribly unprofessional, among other things. That buzzing wasn't going anywhere. His entire abdomen felt bloated around the colorful gurgle and fume of a thousand potions ready to make him explode.

He let out a burp before waddling over to kill the oven. Once that was done, he struggled his way out of the kitchen, burping and belching along the way. I don't know what came over me. This was a mistake. He made it to his bedroom where he flopped onto his cot without taking any clothes off. The weight on his stomach settled into something more agreeable, but that bodily simmer did not wane. He felt it in his sex slit most keenly, like his manhood was ready to sprout at any moment at full stiffness. Either that, or it would shrivel and shrink into nothing. “Uuuuughhhh…" He curled into a ball and turned onto his side. Shortly after his eyes closed, and he was asleep.

* * *

When Tav woke up he immediately knew something was wrong. It wasn't just that he'd slept fully clothed which had him rousing in a pool of his own sweat. His first sound was a groan. That mighty pit in his stomach had not left, but that miraculous buzzing was gone. Tav untucked from the fetal position and rolled over onto his back, tugging along what felt like a hideously bloated tummy. “Unhhhhhhh…" Through the aches and pains, his thoughts came back to the recipe. I need to find out where that substitute came from. His hand went down towards his crotch to scratch it. But first I need to learn some self-

The thought dropped dead when his hand's journey to his groin was halted by a lumpy presence within his tunic. It rose from the bottom portion of his stomach, right below the navel and above the beltline. He jerked hard upon touching it, a wave of discomfort ripping through his whole body like he'd touched an open wound. The fabric surrounding it was wet. When he snapped his head up, he saw the inexplicable mound rising like a miniature baby bump, surrounded by dampened leather. What the fuck is that? He looked at his hand and saw a droplet of… something… stuck to the middle finger. That's not sweat. Terror pulled him out of his grogginess. Tav sat up in an instant, giving himself another bolt of that sensation. The sweetroll. He dared to hike the bell of his tunic up, exposing his wrapped undergarment and whatever had grown out of his stomach.

Peeking back at him from the scaly canvas of his skin was a bright and rosy cow udder. It peaked with four elongated teats whose ducts each wept a tiny stream of milk. The size of half a cantaloupe, it throbbed like a swollen ankle, radiating with the sensitivity of a nurse maid. Tav's face and eyes lit up with horror. “What is this?" he screamed. The dragonborn scrambled out of bed, quickly untying the belt around his tunic and pulling it the rest of the way off his body so that only his under wrap remained. He stood in the middle of the bedroom, legs at an awkward stance, his pretty pink udder dripping milk onto the floorboards.

“No! No, no, no, no, no!" It sat off him like a cancerous lump, perfect in shape but hideous like an infected gash. His heartbeat pulsed inside of it. The teats leaked at a steady trickle, streams of warm dragon milk tickling down the rigid areola that had overtaken his abdomen. His jaw clenched with rage and sorrow. “Fuck! Why?" A shaky, cautious hand came down to the udder and caressed it with one finger. The skin was tough, leathery, pulled taut by the great deal of milk which churned and bubbled inside. A shiver rippled through him, enough to make him gasp and have his tail lift into the air behind him. A throb brought about a surge in milk from all four teats which audibly thudded on the floor below.

This isn't good. This isn't good at all. Fuck. I need a doctor. Tav did away with his under wrap and replaced it with another. He prepared to put on another tunic before realizing it would just irritate his utter further. In an embarrassing, ironic twist, he would have to wear his sleeping gown for his trip to the doctor after going to bed in his regular clothes. At the front door of his house, he had to take deep breaths to gather courage. Doctor Krebs' house is just down the street. It's early in the morning. Not many people will notice you. These are your neighbors. You'll be fine. Tav pushed the door open. It invited a great swoop of chilly morning air that whipped his sleeping gown and lashed at his bare shins. A violent shiver raked his scales and the utter, drawing forth more beads of milk.

“Shit!" He hugged the gown to his stomach, wetting the fabric but preventing any milk from dribbling south. How long he could keep that up, he did not know. Tav darted outside and made a hurried trot down the dirt road, alarming several folk who were already up and attending their daily tasks.

“Is everything alright?" begged one neighbor.

“Tav!" called another.

“Awfully chilly out, isn't it?" teased a friend. They had no idea, not without a swelling, leaking set of mammaries which felt the cold like razors.

Tav ignored them all. His jaw remained clenched against the humiliation. More milk trickled down his tummy. He wiped it up with the gown before it could sink any further, though it left the surrounding fabric a visibly wet mess like he'd been struck by a water balloon. Before long, his catcallers had gone silent, able to discern that something was very wrong and that he was on the way to the doctor.

Doctor Krebs' building was near the center of town, placed there tactically for all residents to find easily. The cock had barely finished crowing when Tav was banging his fist on the door, rattling the entire building. “Doc!" he hollered into the crack. “Doc! I need help!" He stood back from the door onto the street and looked up at the second floor. There was a movement behind the curtains and Tav saw a flash of the doctor's face. Less than a minute later Tav heard footsteps coming to the door before it opened.

There stood Doctor Krebs, the rock gnome whose cloud of shockingly red hair sat in a tizzy atop his head. “Tav?" he said, squinting up at the ill-dressed dragonborn. “What's the matter?"

“Doc! I-!" He stopped and looked over his shoulder before quieting down. “May I come in?"

Krebs rubbed his eye with his fist and stepped aside. “Yes, please." Tav hurried inside and Krebs shut the door. “I'm assuming some terrible affliction has taken hold of you for you to come slamming on my door this early in the morning. You aren't dying, are you?"

“Er, no, I'm not." Tav clutched the gown tighter to his udder. “But I have come down with something terribly peculiar."

Krebs noticed how he held the gown and that it was wet. “Did you wet yourself?" Krebs stepped closer for a better look.

Tav, on instinct, stepped back. “N-no. Well, not in the sense that you mean it."

“Then what is it?" Krebs frowned up at his patient. “I can't do anything about it unless you tell me what it is." Tav sighed and lifted up his gown. Krebs' frown blew open into a look of pure shock, one not worn after many years as a doctor. “Oh!" he hooted. He realized how unprofessional his reaction was and quickly coughed into his fist. “Oh, alright. Erm… Let's take a look at this. Umm… When did you..? Ahh, how long have you been experiencing… this?"

Making an experienced doctor react that way wasn't an easy task. Tav's face felt like it was inside of an oven. “Since this morning," Tav said. He looked down at his growth and noticed a few droplets of milk on the floor between his feet. Before lowering his gown again to cover it he wondered if it was getting bigger. “I ate a sweetroll last night, an entire one. I woke up and this was here."

“A sweetroll?" Krebs asked. He stepped forward and politely gestured for Tav to raise his gown again. He did so reluctantly, and the doctor inspected the udder.

“Aye. I was cooking last night, trying a new recipe. I used a substitute for milk, one I'd never used before. Ah!" A sharp gasp from Krebs touching one of his teats. “It made me feel strange but in a good way. I ate the entire thing. That feeling carried with me the whole night and now it's here in my-" Oh God. Saying it out loud is terrible. “-udder…"

“I see. And you're certain that's what caused this?"

Not quite, apparently. “Well, I've never experienced anything like that with anything else I've ever made. It had to have been the milk, or whatever it was."

“Alright." Krebs backed off and hurried over towards the examination room. “Follow me. We're going to have to take a much closer look."

Tav gulped. “Yes, doc." In the examination room Tav was made to strip nude and sit back in a reclining chair. Here he was subject to a barrage of pokes, prods, and smears courtesy of Krebs who wore a mask and gloves. Milk continued to drain from the teats at a steady rate, soon having the seat drenched and piddling onto the floor below. Krebs was forced to swipe it away with some rags, and at one point he started taking samples in jars. Tav stayed still the entire time, enduring the humiliation without complaint but while his feet squirmed constantly. Every bit of contact, no matter how slight, brought another jolt and a hiss. He prayed to whatever god would listen that it would end soon, and that Krebs would have a cure.

Eventually the doctor sat up in his stool and peeled the mask from his face. His expression was grim. “Do you have a bucket at home?" he asked.

Tav frowned. “A bucket?"

“Aye, or at least somewhere to dispose all the milk into."

“Ahhh, well, yes. Should I do that?"

Krebs took a deep, mournful breath. “I'm afraid that's my only suggestion for now. This is…" He gestured to Tav's udder, completely flabbergasted. “Unlike anything I've ever seen, let alone on a dragonborn. This has to be some kind of magic. If it is, it's well above my paygrade."

“Magic? You mean like a curse?" Krebs nodded sadly. Tav slumped back into his chair. “Oh gods… What am I going to do now?" He ran his hand down his face and looked into the ceiling. He imagined himself living the rest of his life with this udder attached to him still, its rosy, pink skin having turned wrinkly after losing its elasticity with age.

“Do you remember where you got that milk?" Krebs asked.

Tav had stopped thinking about it. “Ah… I get my ingredients from all over Faerûn. I hardly remember which ones come from where. I-" Then it plopped into his head, a memory so deeply buried that it startled him upon springing to the surface like a geyser. “The mountain," he said.

“The mountain? What mountain?"

Tav sat up so suddenly that he startled the doctor. “I was on a trip looking for ingredients when I came into a mountainside village that sold the substance." He looked to Krebs, desperation palpable. “Do you think I can get a cure from them?"

“Well, I suppose that would be your best bet, but-"

Tav was already launching out of the chair, still in the nude, milk droplets flying off him. He snatched his gown off the nearby counter. “I have to go back there. I'll find out how to reverse this damn curse."

Krebs followed him out of the examination room as fast as his little gnome legs could carry him. “Wait! Right now? How far away is it?"

Tav's head popped out of the top of his gown when he pulled it over himself. “About a fortnight's journey on foot, and yes, right now. I'm not going another day longer than I have to with this… thing attached to me." The milk that was soaked into the gown had chilled since he'd taken it off. When it touched his udder it elicited a violent shiver that made his jaw clench and his stride waiver. Still, he managed to make it to the front door.

“But we still don't know what it might do," Krebs implored. “We should spend another day examining it! We should milk it carefully!"

Tav swung the front door open. He cringed hard at Krebs' suggestion. He imagined the doctor tugging on his teats and drawing strings of warm lizard milk into a pale. “If anyone's milking this thing, it's going to be me," Tav declared with some level of disgust. “I'm going back to that village and I'm going to find a cure. Thanks, Doc." Then he stormed out and slammed the door behind him, leaving behind a very concerned doctor.

Tav stormed back to his house. His bravado quickly wilted now that he was back out in the open where everyone could see him in his frontally soaked pajamas. More inquiries regarding his health hounded him. He would blow them off as politely as he could, though the fire in his cheeks and the tingles in his mammary forced a certain edge into his tone. Back at his home he locked the front door and quickly shed the gown. His under wrap came off next, leaving him in the nude. An exasperated sigh blew out of him as he cradled his new organ which still ached and leaked like there was no tomorrow. A fortnight's journey lugging this thing around. What was I thinking? He could simply come back to Krebs and say he'd changed his mind, but what kind of man would he be to go back on his word? He was going to that village, and if he couldn't find a cure, he would at least find the son of a bitch responsible for this and exact some justice.

But first he was going to ease the load on his udder. If Tav was going to take any of Krebs' advice, it was going to be to milk himself regularly. With both hands cradling his mammoth milk gland, he scampered back into the kitchen where this whole debacle had started. Next to the oven was an empty wooden pale which he snatched up and placed in the center of the floor. Tav went into a half-stoop over it, aiming his four barrels at it carefully with one trigger in each hand. His inner body temperature was insanely high from all the excitement and embarrassment. This should ease things, I hope. He aimed his two teats at the bucket's rim. This'll be easy. Like pissing with your pecker out. After one final deep breath, he squeezed one teat and pulled.

Psssssss! Out squirted a thin jet of white. It blurred through the air, barely a spider's strand of nourishment, though it arced far beyond the bucket and piddled on the wooden floor several feet away. “Shit!" hissed Tav. He eased his pull, counted to three, then tried again, more easily this time. Pssss! Another squirt of milk, this time bowing more lazily and with speckles of white crackling off its stream. They landed in the bucket, striking the wall opposite where Tav stood and making a soft thudding sound.

Tav wasn't sure what was more satisfying: his successful aim, or the sweet bliss of relief that rippled across his udder upon just that squirt. It was like an orgasm through his teats, a glowing joy that made his jaw drop and then tighten into a grimace. “F-fuck…" Inside his cloaca was a clench of pleasure, purely involuntary. It, too, wanted some attention, jealous of what its neighboring body part was receiving. I'll take care of you next, Tav vowed at the same time he tugged the opposite teat, shooting out more of his milk.

Psss! Psss! Psss! Psss! Psss! “Ohhhh fuck… Hahhhh… Dammit… Hnnn… Why does this feel so good?" More jets of milk, more groans and swears. Before long a thin film of Tav milk covered the floor of the bucket. A trail of it wept down the farther wall which he kept hitting. His thick dragon tail curled and flicked behind his back at random. It was in sync with the curl of his toes. Like a man in the middle of self-pleasure, Tav struck a cadence with his hand pumps. One teat would fall back into the udder at the same time its neighbor would be yanked. The two unattended noodles just below produced no less, leaking like faucets onto the floor below between Tav and the bucket. He didn't notice. He was too busy swimming in a euphoria on par with the most powerful of orgasms.

The squirts kept coming. The bucket continued to fill. The rattle of milk on wood was replaced with a gurgle. Tav couldn't stop if he tried now that his legs had grown shaky and knock-kneed. Through the delight he could feel a growing ache in his forearms from all the squeezing and pulling. There had grown a fleshy metallic smell from all the milk he'd dispensed. He breathed hard through his mouth, fighting to maintain a healthy body temperature. His joyful grimace withered. “Oh God… Will it end? Hahhhhhh…"

Psss. Psss. Psss. Pss. Pss. Ps. Ps. Ps… The leaking stopped. Tav pulled three more times. Nothing but dry fires. “Oh fuck… Thank you. Thank you…" His fists had been coiled around the teats for so long that they were difficult to unravel, the tendons relaxing like rusted wires. What couldn't relax was the awful soreness which clawed at his udder without mercy. The two teats he pulled were rubbed raw, looking like a pair of battered sausages. The pink skin had deflated a little, wrinkling up slightly like a scrotum on a cold day. The bucket was about a quarter to a third of the way full. It was over, for now.

Tav stayed in that half-stoop for a few moments longer before catching his breath and standing upright. “Oh goodness… Hahhhh… Thank heavens." Now what to do with the bucket and the milk inside. I suppose I'll have to carry it along with me on my journey for whenever I'm not alone out on the trail. He put a hand on his udder and patted it. He didn't know how long it would be until the next milking would be necessary, nor if it was done growing. Though the need to exorcise himself was gone, he could sense another load of milk brewing underneath his palm. Try and limit it to once a day. I can't waste too much time hobbled over a pale.

But that wasn't all he felt. Arousal simmered in his cloaca from all that stimulation. He peered down expecting to see his penis fully erect, but nothing was there. That sizzling need to cum remained inside of him, not several inches in front like it normally would be. Tav felt some level of gross from all the milk still drying on his scales, but his burning sex was too much to ignore. Just a little more prying, he told himself. I won't last long, that's for certain. The hand on his udder traveled south and curled underneath his body, between his thighs where his neatly cloven slit stayed shut. He dipped the middle and ring fingers inside to begin twirling around the head of his penis, a common tactic in gaining an erection.

Nothing was there. Down to the mid-knuckle and Tav could find no penis. Chilly terror pulled at his gut. “Oh no… No, no, no, no…" His fingers drilled deeper and began swirling a desperate hunt for his manhood. All he felt was the tight clench of hot, gummy walls which sent ripples of delight up his abdomen, making it quiver. “Huhhh… No! You're fucking kidding me!" His two fingers went down to the root but failed to bump into the turgid helmet of a penis. What Tav dug into was not a sheath, but a vaginal canal teeming with nerves and slavering fluids.

The cruelest dread and humiliation made him groan. “Noooooo… It can't be…" But the prod of his new lady parts confirmed it further, that with the birth of his udder came the death of his masculinity. Not far from the apex of his claw was the dense portal of his cervix, a threateningly tight clot of nerves too sensitive to bother any further. Beyond them were a perfectly functioning pair of ovaries built from his testes, no longer producing seed but eggs. Worse was the spongey flesh that made his G-spot and clitoris. The slightest bump and nudge would have him gasping and hissing. The fine muscles that defined his inner thighs would twitch dramatically.

It felt too good to pull his fingers out. The terrible discovery of his forced feminization did not wane the pleasure of having those parts touched. His fingers did not remain placid, going into a slow hooking motion that pulled the tips of his fingers down his cavity walls and into the clit before looping back. His jaw fell open, letting a moan escape. A slag of pussy juice drooled from his two fingers and made it all the way down to the floor without thinning out and breaking. He'd discovered an itch that he never knew needed scratching. Now to make up for lost time.

“Hahhh… Ohhh… Oh dear… Fuck…" He needed a better place than just standing in the middle of his kitchen. The mess he'd created with all the milk was trouble enough. What he felt brewing in his lady parts was something else entirely, unfit for the sanctity of where he crafted his art. Through no small amount of willpower, he was able to withdraw his finger from his cunt (thinking of it as that made his Kegel clench, a not unpleasant reaction). He saw the viscous film of excitement glued to his two fingers. He wriggled them together and noted their pungent smell which reminded him of all the times he'd been with a woman. I don't think I'll have the pleasure of doing that anymore, unless touching myself counts. If it did, he was about to amplify his number significantly.

Tav made a hurried shuffle to the bedroom, that one hand clamped over his cloaca to keep the intense heat at bay. He felt his udder jiggling with each step, still radiant with the aftershock of that milky purge. I feel so disgusting and resplendent at the same time. I shudder to get used to this. He barged into his bedroom and went straight to the bed. He spun around and plopped back on his bum, leaning back with one arm behind him, his legs spread, and his fingers diving straight back into his pussy.

Tav's head was thrown back, his open maw flinging moans and whimpers at the ceiling above while his fingers dashed around the circumference of his girl lips, squelching them. “Huhhhh! Oh fuck! Hahhh! Ahhh! Ohhhhhhhhhh yes~! Huhhhhh~!" The hamstrings would burst against the scales along his inner thighs, twitching the whole leg onto their toes. More of that womanly liqueur drooled from his cavity, creating a small pool of it on the sheet between his open lap. What didn't soak into the fabric sloughed down the mattress's flank and onto the floor where a trail of his fluids, both mammary and sexual, had followed him to the bed.

Tav didn't care about any mess. He didn't care about how he'd turned into a female, nor about the udder. He didn't care about the noises he made or how loud they were. All that mattered, all that was and all that he hoped ever would be, was that masterpiece of delight billowing from his flower, resonating with every sinew and fiber of his body and making him quiver and squeal like a bitch. “HUHHHH! YES! OH FUCK! HUHHHHHHH~!!! HUHHHHHHHHHH~~~!!!" His orgasm caught him off guard, the pleasure having swooped into an apex while dragging his pitch up another octave. His legs jumped up off the floor, pulled by the very sudden jerk of his knees and the spasming thigh muscles. His fingering did not stop, not even when a torrent of hot squirt hissed from his bright pink pussy and splattered off his hand into a thousand sparkling droplets that thudded onto the hardwood.

A horrid caterwaul belted out of him, one that trailed into a whimpering moan only when his orgasm was finished, and the squirting had died into a steady trickle. Blushing, grimacing, and so terribly ashamed of himself, Tav looked and saw the great splatters of girl water he'd shot onto the bedroom floor. They reached all the way to the doorway and beyond, some of the droplets made ghostly by the droplets of milk they'd mixed with. He breathed hard, cheeks on fire, hating everything that was happening and how divine it felt.

He didn't stop masturbating. The swoop of his two fingers had become like the spin of a windmill, long and inevitable, unable to stop without some great force. The bliss of his orgasm had not fully waned before it was picked up again, his quivering form slumping down the side of the cot with a drunken, blushed look on his face. “F-f-fuck… I- Huhhhhh~! Oh gods… Yes… Yes~" His tone would shudder and sail across every octave and timbre with the angelic joy now surging through his legs and udder. The second time he came wasn't far off, and when it struck him there gurgled another surge of hot, loving squirt from his pussy that dribbled off his twirling claw and onto the poor cobblestone below to create a sizeable pool. “Hyeeeeuuuuhhhhhhhh~ Ohhhhh… Huhhhhhhhhh…"

And still his finger went, not letting that euphoria go until that deeply ensconced need to cum had vanished. It hadn't after the third orgasm, nor the fourth, nor the fifth. Poor Tav hung off his bed in a semi-deaf-blind state of intoxication in which he spasmed and masturbated so fervently that he was halfway to sliding off the bed and plopping into the massive pool of cunny water he'd shoot out of himself on occasion. Worse was the return of his milk, albeit just a few droplets that seeped from his teats. Not a half hour had passed since he'd filled the bucket and he was producing more, though currently his body was hard at work expelling juices elsewhere.

The perpetual orgasming stopped only when Tav was physically unable to anymore. He'd fully slid off the side of the bed and landed on his tush amidst a pond of his own squirt. The leaking from his teats had escalated into a full-on drip. The muscles in his forearm and thighs had grown sore from all the fingering and spasming respectively. He sat in the wet aftermath, panting hard, trying to remember where he was and how he got there. His eyes gradually regained their focus and the mighty aftershock of his self-pleasure faded to leave bare a terrible burning in his beleaguered loins. “Huhhhhh… Fuck… Fuck…" His hand came out of his lap and brushed one of his teats along the way, letting free a single tear of milk that tickled down his udder. His jaw clenched with anger. I need to get rid of this damn thing. I'm going back to that village even if it kills me.

But first, he needed a bath.

* * *

A tremendous cleanup followed his first sexcapade with female parts. Tav was completely exhausted, but he wasn't about to leave himself and his bedroom a mess like that. It wasn't even midday when he was finished, leaving him trapped in his home so as not to expose his new extremity to anyone else in town before he left. Once before the day ended, he had to drain his udder again, subjecting himself to the intense pleasures that came with it, stretched thin as they were. One can only consume a sweet dessert enough before it begins to taste stale and scratches the mouth. Before disposing of the milk, he made sure nobody was outside to see him; he did not want anyone to ask what he was doing, wasting perfectly good milk.

Next came the delicate process of putting together an outfit suitable for long travel as well as having a fat udder. There were a few tunics suitable for such a journey, but they hardly made his udder tolerable. Putting one on irritated the teats to no end. His nightgown had already proven the least bothersome thing he had, but it hardly made for hiking attire. He would have to call upon his sewing skills, a part of his repertoire not utilized for quite some time. Thus, he spent a full two hours at the table with a nightgown (a separate one from that morning) and a tunic which he tore the stomach portion out of and replaced with that of the softer, more agreeable gown cotton. It made for an awkward looking garment, something like the crossed attire of a common man and a pregnant woman. That wasn't too far off with Tav's leaky nipples and cunt in stark contrast with his leathery, masculine body.

Then he encountered another problem. His udder wasn't all that leaked. From his quim drained a steady flow of juices which ran down his inner thigh, glistening the scales halfway to the knee. While he didn't feel horny, he produced sex fluids like a woman who hadn't been fucked in her life. Masturbating didn't help. Indeed, it merely fed into his libido and would demand further orgasms which always had him squirting like a fountain. His only option was to fashion an extra thick under wrap which would absorb most of the juices coming out. It helped, though it required changing every few hours or so.

Before he went to bed Tav gathered money and supplies for the coming journey. Though he had a map with him, he made sure to memorize the route he would take. The village he'd bought the substitute from- a place called Matan -was circled many times with charcoal until that lonely dot on the map was the eye of a hideously black storm. “Matan," he said out loud. The image of its merchant district and the fellow he'd purchased from sprung to mind. “Just you wait." Tav rolled the map up and tucked it into his rucksack before milking himself one last time and going to bed.

His dream was a restless one. Tav, the proud dragonborn and man, stood nude in the center of town, pinned to the earth not by a pillory or a rail to be flogged on, but by a grossly distended utter so huge that it outweighed the man attached to it. It sagged into a semi-flattened shape by its own weight, its formally pink pigment shattered by blue and purple veins bulged to the surface. Four rivers of thick, arid milk gushed across the dirt, forming rivers that gurgled and rippled. Tav leaned onto the unscrupulous organ, begging it to unload more. It would throb and shudder instead, its overstretched dermis feeling ready to explode. It hurt. It hurt so much. People were pointing, laughing, both at Tav's udder and at his nudity. He begged it to stop, but the udder grew, and grew, and grew, and grew, and-

Tav snapped awake. He was not out in the street, but in bed amidst a pall of sweat like the morning before. The sun had not risen, nor had the cock crowed. His udder sat atop his belly wet and heavy, but not to the extreme his dream had warned of. Nevertheless, it was bigger than when he had gone to sleep, and the hay mattress beneath him reeked of his nectar. A curse grumbled out of his throat before he launched himself out of bed, udder sloshing along the way, and made for the bucket. A few minutes of squirting and grumbling later and it was almost full. His forearms ached and his cloaca had built up an aroused slobber. The nude Tav, one hand clamped against his chalice, grabbed the bucket and chucked its contents outside, no longer caring who saw or what they might have thought. He threw on his gown-tunic, gathered his rucksack and the bucket, then barged outside, never missing a stride as he walked down the street, heading north, the town of Matan on his mind.

* * *

It had been a while since Tav's previous trek into that stretch of land where Matan and the yonder mountains awaited him. Between long hours of walking he would orient himself with his map and compass, all while trying his best to ignore the ever swelling presence in his udder and the moisture in his underwrap. The bucket would clang obnoxiously as it hung off his rucksack, tempting him to stop and unload, or at the very least pull over into a secluded spot and relieve just some of the milk weight. Determination kept him forward, however, and it was only when he'd set up camp for the night that he would stoop somewhere close and tug at his nipples until his mammaries were flatter. He abhorred the coming visit to town when he would have to use the bucket and dump its contents somewhere hidden.

His utter was getting bigger, making notable progress between nights when he would milk himself. It began pressing into the silk of his gown, leaking ever so gently and wetting the fabric while he walked. Milk would tickle its way down his tunic and across his scales, driving him mad to the point of finally stopping mid-trek. He would flit into the forest and hike up his tunic-gown, letting that chunky cow organ spill out and squirt its content upon his eager tugs. A shudder would roll through him. Then the moans would start. His milk reserves would not deplete fully until one hand would venture into his cloaca and finger the clit to orgasm. One, two, three squirts out of a second orifice later and the bodily soaked Tav would return to the road with blushing cheeks and quivering thighs.

He managed his way to the first settlement after three nights of travel. By then he'd milked himself five times since leaving his hometown. The udder had swollen into the gown section of his tunic, forcing its rotund size and portly shape upon it as if he was heavy with eggs. Since spotting the town's outer gates peel into view over the horizon he thought of possible explanations to provide when inevitably someone would ask what the hell was wrong with him. 'It's a condition' was the best he could come up with, it being true, if not the whole truth.

He was halted at the front gates by two burly half-orcs posted atop the walls, both clad in leather armor and wielding javelins. It was close to sunset and the doors were closed. “Halt," grumbled one with his studly jaw and curled bottom fangs. “State your name and business." His tone was forceful but not threatening.

Tav adjusted his rucksack and shuffled his feet in the traffic-churned quagmire he stood in. His utter irritated him something awful, already leaking into his clothes and demanding release. He was desperate to settle in an inn for the night and unload in his bucket. “I am Tav of Rivington. I've come to find shelter for the night. Do you know if your inn has a room to spare?"

Neither orc responded at first. The moment after Tav started speaking they both reacted with mild surprise and shared a look with each other. One of them coughed into his fist. “Erm, alright. How… how long have you been travelling?"

Tav frowned. What in the fuck does that have to do anything? His teats throbbed, seemingly out of frustration. A trail of milk slithered into his under wrap, adding a trill to his simmering impatience. “This will be my fourth night. I come from Rivington." Then, saltily, “What business is that of yours?"

“It is our business whoever steps foot in this settlement, no matter their reason."

“What does my time on the road have to do with my reason for visiting?" Tav shuffled his feet, farting his sandals in the mud. Four pressure points were building in his udder, feeling ready to explode at any moment. He didn't have to look down to know they were leaking into his gown fabric.

The orc was silent. “It doesn't," he admitted. “But your apparel is strange, not like anything we've seen from Rivington."

“We will have to check your bag for anything suspicious," said his partner.

“Yes!" chirped the other. He set his javelin aside and moved towards a wooden crank which he grabbed to operate the gate. “Wait to be escorted and we will search you."

Dread leadened Tav's stomach as one half of the gate began to open towards him, the crank crackling and groaning as the orc twisted it. His comrade came down the steps to escort Tav inside. He peeked out from behind the open door, his burly visage cracked with a sinister grin. “Come, dragonborn. Let's see how much of a threat you really are."

Common sense screamed at Tav to turn around and make camp in the forest, but the terrible throbbing in his teats kept him planted. The promise of warmth and a comfortable bed propelled him towards the gate. Please, let this be as quick and painless as possible. Wincing as he trudged through the mud, Tav passed through the gate and was pointed to a small room attached to the settlement wall. The orc who had opened the gate was already waiting for him, standing in the doorway before an ominously lit pair of candles. Tav, trembling with the need to milk himself, stepped forward.

Inside the search room he was ordered to lay his rucksack on a table and stand nearby without saying a word. He obeyed and watched from a few feet away with his hands clasped behind his back while the two orcs rudely dug into his belongings and tossed everything out. There was the clatter of his mess kit and the flutter of blankets, all of which he had tried so hard to keep clean during his journey. Nothing besides a small carving knife typical to any traveler proved a potential threat. One orc looked at it for just a moment before dismissing it along with everything else.

The rummage through his rucksack was quick and painless enough, but that's not what the orcs were after, and Tav knew as much. His malefactors stood on the opposite side of the table where his empty rucksack lay deflated. One pointed at his stomach, or more specifically the maternal bulge behind his gown. “Now, remove your clothes and toss them here."

Rage made Tav want to spit fire at them both, but he knew better than to get himself killed. With a sigh he pulled the bottom of his tunic up, lifting the curtain on his swollen utter before the wrest of his bronze scales were left bare for the orcs' unscrupulous consumption. That left him in only his soddened under wrap, and though he'd been ordered to remove all his clothes, he didn't have to. The orcs saw everything they needed, their beady eyes all but bursting from their faces once they saw that saggy mound of pink mammal flesh. It was bigger than when Tav had last bared himself with the bottom pair of teats drooping down to the hip. It weighed as much as it looked with its velvet skin beset by angry veins like what traveled the orcs' huge biceps.

“By the gods," murmured one.

“That's… that's not possible," said the other. His eyes fell to the floor along with a drop of milk from one teat.

Tav felt their collected gazes as sharply as the javelins they had been wielding. His arms remained folded above it, coming close to an attempt at covering the monstrosity but aware that it would be fruitless. “So, you've seen it," said a humiliated Tav. “Have I satiated your curiosity?"

Apparently not, as both orcs ignored him. “I didn't know dragonborn could make milk!"

“They can't! This has to be some kind of defect."

“I thought it strange when I heard a man's voice come out of you. I thought you were pregnant, but this…" The orc rubbed his chin. “This is much, much stranger."

“It's not a defect," Tav growled through his teeth. “I drank something cursed, and it did this to me. I'm seeking a way to get rid of it. Look, I've shown myself bare to you. I'm free of any contraband. Will you please let me go?"

“Alright, alright," said one orc. “Just one more thing." Tav clenched his jaw. What could it be now? “Give one of those teats a pull. I want to see what squirts out."

Fury pulled Tav's lip into a snarl. “No! Just let me go!"

The orcs were silent for a moment before one of them stepped forward and bent over to pick something up off the ground. It was Tav's knife, still in its sheath. He pulled it out with a leathery shing and twisted its steel blade into the glinting candlelight. “My, my, what do we have here?" he said, looking at the tool closely.

“That looks like a dangerous weapon to me," his partner said while looking directly at Tav.

The orc tossed the knife onto the table where it bounced and clattered loudly. “We have a policy for what to do to smugglers, same as any other settlement. You know what that is, right?"

Tav did, and the image of that policy being enacted on him played through his mind. Rageful humiliation made him tremble where he stood. “Vile creatures, the both of you." One arm unfolded from above his udder and pulled at the upper left teat.

Hsssssss.

Both orcs' faces lit up as they burst into laughter. “Hah! I didn't think it would do it!"

“It is a real udder!"

Tav's face was aflame amidst their uproarious laughter. “Can I please go now?"

“Wait," said one orc. He dashed out the door and quickly returned with a silver flask. He wasted no time stomping right up to Tav and holding his flask up to his teat like he was a casket of ale. “Squirt some for me! I've never had dragon milk before." His partner admired the idea and ran out to get his own receptacle.

“You're sick," growled Tav who choked his teat angrily, letting out one drip of milk that went plink in the orc's flask.

“And you'll be much sicker if you don't squirt for me, lady-man." He waved his flask threateningly. “Pull. Now." Tav was cruelly made aware of the orc's huge stature and offensive odor as he stood so close. He pulled the nipple and rattled a shot of his juice into the flask, if just to get the brute away from him. The orc chuckled. “More. I want a good swig." That was the same time his partner came in with his own flask and put it right under the adjacent tit.

Tav pulled away like a good cow, filling each flask a quarter way with his mammal product before the orcs would have a sip. He saw the same reactions in them from when he had tried the sweet roll, their faces lighting up as that delightful buzz rippled down their throats and out from their tummies. If there was some consolation in having become a dispenser, it was that these two bastards were likely to suffer the same shocking surprise he had those few mornings ago.

Still, the embarrassment was awful and the sensations ever so sharp. That colorful bliss of having the weight off his udder glowed bright as always, making him bite his lip and curl his toes. He was fortunate the two orcs were so loud and obnoxious; they didn't hear Tav whimpering through his nose. The squeezes on his teats became automatic, propelled mostly by the need to empty his mammary now that the process had kickstarted. It was like taking a piss. Once things started flowing, it was a massive pain to make them stop.

After the umpteenth swig of lizard milk the orcs patted their swollen bellies, brains alight with happy chemicals turning them stupid. They retreated their flasks, jutting jaws dripping with milk, and had themselves a hearty burp. Tav was left in place, hands on two teats, actually wanting them to come back so he could finish. A terrible itch had built inside his underwrap, between his thighs. He dreaded the two orcs discovering that part of him, but something at the very bestial core of his brain wished that they did.

“Ahhh, that was something…" hooted one orc. He put his flask down on the table and let rip a loud belch. “Alright. You're free to spend the night here. The inn has plenty room for you."

Tav's submissive side, now inflated by feminine hormones and the need to get fucked, almost thanked them. He wanted to make a dash for his belongings but struggled to let go of his badly leaking nipples, a full puddle of alabaster having grown around his feet and rippling around each drop that fell into it. The G-string of his underwrap was soaked in arousal. The tiniest movements made every sensation good and bad flare. With a gritted jaw and sore forearms he waddled to the table and hurriedly collected his things into his rucksack before sliding his gown-tunic back on. He ran out of there like a wounded animal, a double trail of milk droplets following him along the way.

A few of the settlement's denizens were out that night, civilians and soldiers alike. They witnessed the blushing dragonborn scurrying down the road in his bare feet, holding a rucksack to his chest as some of the contents came spilling out onto the dirt. A few noticed the dramatic bounce of flesh going on behind the soft, white fabric portion of his tunic, reminding them of a wet nurse. He ignored them all, making a beeline for the mercifully well-advertised inn at the center of the fort, the front doors of which he burst through like a siege weapon.

It startled the few patrons who were up drinking and chatting. The bartender and owner, a drow elf woman with short white hair, nearly jumped out of her boots when Tav came barging in and trampling up to the bar in his half-soaked clothes. “One night!" he all but squealed with every head in the inn turned towards him. “How much?"

“Three gold," said the Drow quickly, recognizing some kind of emergency. Tav slammed his rucksack on a barstool and fished his arm inside for his purse. Some agonizing moments later he found it and pulled it out, slammed it on the bar, and chucked three gold coins at the bartender before collecting everything back into the sack. “First door on the right hall," she told him, and in a flash, he was gone.

Tav darted into the room he'd purchased and launched his rucksack onto the floor. There was a boisterous clatter as several of his items came spilling out, punctuated by an explosive slam of the door. Tav darted for his bucket which had rolled up to the wall. He grabbed it by the handle and slammed it down on the hardwood before squatting over it, hiking up his tunic, and rapidly yanking on his teats.

Ssssst. Ssssst. Ssssst. Ssssst. Ssssst. A horrid moan belted out of him as the tide of pleasure was back on him full force. His jaw hung slack along with his tongue. It became difficult just balancing on the balls of his feet, they quaked so dramatically. Hardly any attention was paid to his aim or how much the bucket was filled. All that mattered was draining the rest of his product and then attending the arousal that scorched between his thighs.

The bucket was sloshing up to the rim with milk by the time the squirts petered out. It was his largest output by far, and much of the rest was currently gurgling inside a pair of orcs' bellies. His utter was still fat, ready to inflate an extra couple of sizes for the next time he had to unload. For now, he could kneel in a pit of satisfaction, drool and other such fluids oozing their way out of him like he'd lost all his mind. He'd come close, though his only remaining anchor to reality was the soreness of his teats and how hot and wet his pussy was.

“Fuck… Fuck…" A breathless Tav managed to stand up, if almost toppling over in the process. He backpedaled on rubbery feet and bumped into the foot of the bed by his calves, lazily plopping down on it and letting loose a doleful sigh. He didn't have to think about his next act. His right hand was already clawing under his tunic, pulling down at his underwrap for access to his weeping cunny. The middle and ring finger dipped inside. Ecstasy blossomed, and Tav's head swooned. “Ohhhhhh…"

His fingering was quick to a blur, the moist flesh of his cloaca schlicking loudly and sending its sex fluids out in a spiral off his twirling hand. Unabashed moans pulled at his lungs. The inner muscle of his thighs bulged hard against his scales. His toes would curl and scrape up the foot of the bed frame, drawing long snakes of carved would out of long claw marks. Dragonborn women loved to scratch and claw when making love, oft to the pleasure-pain of their partners. Here Tav finally understood why as his hands and feet would flex and unflex their curled, onyx scythes with each wave that would blow out from his battered sex.

“Uhhhh… Huhhhhh! Fuck! Ohhhhhh~!" His chest would heave up with each gasp and blow forth a womanly coo. The bedroom was rife with his love song, its percussion the nasty skwish of cunt flesh and the sloppy drip of juice on hardwood. His orgasm was coming hard and fast, cranking the volume and pitch on his voice at the same time his whole back and neck craned backwards with that ecstatic O-shape stretching his mouth. “Huhhhh! Huhhhh! HUHHHHH!!!"

Knock-knock-knock.

Tav's eyes shot open. The air was locked in his lungs by a violent lock of muscles that sent his pleasure plummeting. He looked at the door, a pair of leg shadows highlighting the bottom of its glowing outline. Just like that he realized how loud he had been. He clamped his jaw shut with a chulk and pasted the back of his wrist to his mouth to choke back the moan he'd been close to letting out. The smell of his pussy was hot on his fingers, searing the inside of his nose. Tav sat up and collected himself. “Um… hello?"

A deep, thrumming voice spoke from the other side, right into the crack of the door. “Is everything alright in there?" There sounded like genuine concern in his tone.

Things would've been more than alright had I been given a few extra seconds. “Ahhh, yes. Things are just fine. My apologies, was I too loud?"

“Just a tad," said the man.

Tav cringed hard. “Terribly sorry. I'll be quieter."

“No, that's alright." There was a pause. “May I come in?"

Tav frowned. What? Has he lost his mind? Who the hell is this? “Erm, I rather you didn't." He feared the man would try and force his way in somehow, but he remained peaceful.

“That's alright," he said. “I just saw you running through and…" He spoke more quietly and closer to the door crack. “I smelled you were in heat. If there's something you need done about that…" He left the offer hang there.

Tav stewed in the silence and the stagnant simmer of his postponed orgasm. He could smell my heat? Is he a dragonborn? He had to have been, if it affected him enough to come and ask to fuck Tav. Only their kind could smell the finer pheromones within a female's heat and have a reaction to it. And he's come to ask me if he can fuck. Such a proposition would've repulsed a pre-utter Tav. He wasn't attracted to other men by any means, his holes and manhood reserved for dragons of the opposite sex.

But this wasn't pre-utter Tav, and his manhood was gone. With his flower alight with arousal, a massive void desperately in need of some filling, he was not so opposed to the thought of a man's cock like he would've been. Tav gulped and spoke softly. “Well… Alright. Come on in." Something between terror and excitement made his heart ready to explode. What am I doing?

The door opened slowly, pouring light from the hallway into the bedroom and revealing the leviathan silhouette of a fellow dragonborn. His back to the light, Tav could make out none of his features but the two hellish-red eyes that stared hard at him as he sat half nude at the end of the bed, his nethers and utter all hanging out for the man to see. The fellow stepped inside and politely closed the door behind him. In the waning light that poured from the window behind Tav the man's features were better pronounced, and Tav saw that he was a black dragonborn incredibly proud in both the details of his obsidian scales and in his terrific stature. A crown of elaborately curved horns blew back from his head. The lack of sleeves on his arms left bare a terrific array of muscles and veins feeding into massive mitts for hands. He stood midway between Tav and the door, making the half-nude dragon with his udder hanging out feel smaller than he ever had.

“Your scent struck me the moment you came running into the inn," he said. “Everyone heard your moans, but I was the only one who thought to do anything about it, it seems." One hand came up to his groin and grabbed the fabric in front of it. Out bulged the shape of his cockhead, a sizeable tent which drew Tav's attention like an explosion and made his cunny shiver. “It… had quite the effect on me. I'm afraid I couldn't control myself."

Tav sympathized. “Aye, neither could I, as you can see." He realized how open his legs were, as if inviting the stud between them already. Worse was the sag of his udder, a most queer sight compared even to everything else. He shut his knees together and tugged the tunic over his belly. “I appreciate the concern. What was your name?"

“Morth. Yours?"

“Tav." He gulped. “I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, Morth, but I can think of better circumstances."

Tav saw a tiny smirk creep up his new friend's lips. “I'm not so sure. This is certainly the best way to meet new people, I think, especially a fellow dragonborn." His crimson eyes tracked down into the milk-soaked gown portion of Tav's dress. “So… you have an udder. Is that what I saw?"

I was wondering when he would ask. No point in hiding it anymore. He pulled his tunic back up to show Morth. “Drank a cursed potion or something a few nights ago. Woke up with this the next morning. It's been growing bigger ever since." He cupped the Jovian pink organ with both hands which sank into the gossamer pink flesh. It was tempting to give it a massage due to the still-ringing pleasure of his recent purge. “On top of that, I've gained the flesh of a woman. I had a cock, but I was robbed of it."

“That explains the depth of your voice."

“I'm on a journey back to where I acquired the potion and hope to find an antidote. If I don't…" Tav didn't want to think about what would happen if his mission ended in failure. It brought him back to his dream in the square, his udder all giant and gross. He shook the image away. “I'm just passing through. I'll be gone in the morrow."

“Well, if you're leaving tomorrow, you ought to take care of that heat now while you can," Morth said.

Tav lifted the hand he'd fingered himself with. “I was working on that until you knocked on my door."

Morth took a deep breath and adjusted his posture, making those titanic pair of pecs jut proudly. “Well, a finger is well and good but won't do your need to breed any good. There's only one real cure for that." Again, he pulled the crotch of his dress into his pecker. “Your smell's gotten me in a rut as bad as yours, it seems. I think it's the answer to your dilemma, a better one than your hand, at least."

Once more, Tav lacked the disgust he thought he'd feel towards such an offer. Seeing the head of Morth's cock (I can already tell it's big, very big) aimed at him through his clothes added a twinge of excitement to Tav's cunny. It didn't seem like Morth was making the offer to have a quick and easy fuck, but out of genuine desire to help a fellow dragonborn in need. Between the two of them, Tav was far more desperate to mash sexes. Looking at the barbaric size of Morth's cock, it made more sense than anything else to have it inside him.

“Alright," said Tav, his legs opening again. “That sounds… nice."

Morth's smirk grew into a full smile. “I agree." He loosened the string around his tunic and pulled it up his body. It revealed the awesome topography of his trunk and the horizontal, graphite scales that covered it from hip to collar. Out swung a tremendous pecker, a blood red pole studded around the neck by sharp, backwards-facing barbs fit to cling with Tav's inner walls and guarantee insemination. From its angrily flared head to where the cloaca lips were wrapped around the hilt swerved wormy veins. A cock muscle thick as Tav's finger ran the shaft's full length, burdened with the might to heave forth a serious load that would bless Tav with a clutch.

A mix of pleasant surprise and anticipation clawed at Tav's tummy upon seeing it. His legs almost closed again in a defensive maneuver but were held apart by the added temperature of his womanhood, now too hot to contain. Instead, he scooted backwards onto the bed and laid on his back. Morth came around the left side and sat on the edge with his penis towering out of his lap like an exclamation point, swaying impatiently. Tav's whole body tensed when Morth leaned forward and reached for him. Morth grabbed his tunic and began gently pulling it up Tav's torso and arms until finally the pair were totally nude together, their bodily excitements within inches of one another.

Then Morth loomed his face over Tav's and kissed him on the lips. Morth's eyes were closed to keep it an intimate gesture, so he didn't see Tav's eyes nearly bursting out of their sockets. He did not kiss back at first, unable to process the reminder that he was about to make love to another man, to feel the swell and punch of his cock where it belonged most. Morth's beefy hands slid up the tender insides of Tav's arms before holding hands with him and lacing fingers. Tav's body relaxed, and he allowed his eyes to flutter shut and his lips to mesh with Morth. He recalled the last time he'd kissed someone, a woman. She had expected the lead from him, his position dominant. Here he allowed Morth, the bigger and stronger man to control the pace and intensity. A sharp twinge pulled at Tav's cunny, and he made no attempts to usurp control. He was content with whatever Morth wanted to do with him, the big black dragon's weight and strength more than enough to persuade him into compliance. He didn't want it any other way.

Tav reached for Morth's penis, finding it and latching his fingers around its hellacious girth. A firm grip revealed the heavy pulse hammering away at its core, plus the ornery scratch of his penis barbs. A clench of the cock muscle brought forth a tear of precum which fell into Tav's palm. His own burning sex let loose its own liquid product as it would until he'd finally been bred. Tav pulled his face from Morth's with a needy gasp, the taste of his breath flaring between his spit-glistened gums. “Ahhh… I want you… inside me." Tav didn't mean to say it. It just came out, though it needn't be said while Tav's thighs were quivering so theatrically.

Morth rewarded him with a haughty exhale that went right into Tav's mouth and throat. “I can tell. You're leaking like you've never been fucked in your life."

Tav blushed hard. “I haven't."

“No?" Morth chuckled. “That's right. This body is new to you, isn't it? I'll christen it properly for you." Morth sat upright and pulled his legs up onto the bed, swinging his cock out dangerously along with him. He got on his knees between Tav's legs and grabbed him by both ankles to pull them apart far and wide, allowing full access to that weeping quim. His pecker loomed in front of it menacingly, a behemoth laden with weight and lascivious potential. Morth held it gingerly by the root with one hand and laid its conical warhead on Tav's cloaca. It elicited a sharp gasp. There was the sound of popping threads as Tav's claws sank into the mattress. Morth let out a huff. “Hot, aren't we?"

Tav felt like melting into the sheets. Ever since he'd grown this damn udder he'd been through merciless tides of heat. Here it was at its worst, but at last he had the balm of a stud's seed to douse himself in. “Like you wouldn't fucking believe," growled Tav in a voice shaky with impatience. “Gods… Please just fuck me. Do it. Please." Those words bled desperation and neediness, something he loathed to hear from himself but accurately portrayed his feelings.

Morth signaled his own bodily need with a clench of floor muscle. Out squeezed some glassy pre onto Tav's cloaca, now so open that the full circumference of the vulva was bulged out on display for the stud. “Alright," Morth said. “Here it comes." His hips lurched back, bringing the tip down in line with Tav's cavity which was promptly plugged by a soft push. A bolt of pleasure ripped up Tav's spine and caused him to gasp. On reflex he planted the tip of one finger to his clit hooked it back and forth, further urging Morth to go deeper.

Morth obliged, and with a continued push he was able to stuff the flare of his glans into Tav's canal, scraping him with the first ring of cock barbs. It was as intense as Tav had anticipated, those angry thorns raking the velvet atop the razor thin median between pleasure and pain. “Gyuuu-huhhhhhhh~!" Tav clutched the sheet tighter with one hand, balling the other atop his udder which heaved with his rapid breathing. The swell of flesh around that intruding piston was the sweetest bliss as well as the bitterest burn, the mix of which had him squirming and moaning like a bitch. “Ohhhh… Ohhhhh! Huhhhh! Gods! Fuck! I-! Huhhhhhh~!"

Morth's teeth were sunken into his lip as he dealt with the unforgiving, virgin tightness. He watched his fuckstick sink deeper, the barbs vanishing one by one until there was nothing but smooth, dense shaft left to bury inside. That he did, making slow claim into the depths of Tav's flower until he was coddled to the root, every inch of him milked by that quivering sweetness. “Oh, fucking hell…" Morth said under his breath right before reeling back to drive the first thrust.

“Huhhhh! Yes! Oh fuck me! Yes! Hahhhhhhh~!" Tav didn't sound like himself, certainly not like a man. He could hardly associate as one now that he was being properly fucked. Each slam would bend his lumbar and drag his back up the mattress, rocking the entire frame beneath them. Beyond Morth's fat cock drilling into him Tav could feel the glutes crunching, the tight grip on his ankles, the hips slapping on his buttocks. Spiked through it all were those scratchy cock barbs and the angry jut against his womb, the latter like a sledgehammer was striking him. It widened the void inside him, that which needed a flood of fertility to so much as shrink. Then Tav's nipples started to leak again, and those familiar tickles came trailing down his udder slopes in a quartet of milky streams.

Morth was watching his conquest squirm, scratch, and squeal whilst he fucked him. The sight of more milk draining out of the teats as they bounced wildly made his eyes go wide. He laughed. “Hah! What's this? A drink for me?" Without slowing the roll of his thrusts he pinched one teat and pulled at it. Out hissed a thin fountain of milk which arced high in the air above Tav's tummy and piddled back down on and around the udder.

It was another sudden peak of delight for Tav, but one that struck panic into him. “Huhhhh! W-wait! Don't-! Nyuhhhh! Don't drink that!"

Morth frowned. He slowed down his humps just to be heard better. “I hadn't planned on it. Why not?"

“Hnnnn… It might… give you an udder like mine. Hahhhh… I don't know what it might do, but I… Hahhh… Just… Don't drink it…"

Morth stopped fucking for a moment. “Well, alright. Like I said, I hadn't planned on it, so no worries."

Tav took a moment to catch his breath, though the great glow of having a big dick inside him would not wane. “Mmmm… Hahhhh… Hahhh… Good… Huhhhh…"

A smirk grew on Morth's face. “But it's alright if I do this?" He gave the teat a sharp tweak, bending it into a spiral and spitting out a bit of milk.

It was like a burst of white went off in Tav's udder. His mouth shot open in a silent gasp before clenching into a grimace. “Yes~!" It was more a retort of pleasure than an answer to Morth's question. Luckily, it functioned as both, and Morth helped himself to each of his precious pleasure beads, enjoying the way Tav would whimper, squirt, and clench uncontrollably.

Morth didn't forget his breeding duties and resumed a heavy cadence of thrusts. One hand held Tav by the left thigh while the other remained busy on the udder, literally milking him until he'd turned into a living faucet. Tav begged and screamed, his voice trailing much further than when he was fingering himself earlier. If anyone was asleep, they weren't anymore. Lewd images of Morth's masculinity sprung to mind with Tav's repeated begs and comments on his endowment. “Harder, harder, harder," was a common chant, sometimes referring to how he wanted to be fucked, otherwise how he wanted his nipples to be twisted. Morth supplied either way, happy that the entire settlement would know how well he fucked.

Well enough that Tav's first orgasm was on the horizon. It was inevitable thanks to the ardent stroke and scrape of Morth's pecker and the way he abused Tav's mammaries. His pleasure swelled into a crippling ecstasy, dragging the pitch of his moans up with it until both exploded. Tav let rip a guttural caterwaul from his throat and a Vesuvian eruption of squirt from his cunny. Crystal white streaks of female liqueur blew off Morth's cock, splattering his muscly trunk and the surrounding sheets. The squirting stopped and resumed to the beat of Tav's contractions, each one cratering his tummy and spasming his legs like crazy.

Morth let out a triumphant growl. “Rnnnnnn, yeaaaaaaahhhh. Let it all out for us." His tempo remained true throughout and beyond Tav's orgasm. The sound of flesh compacting flesh grew louder and ruder with all the added moisture. Droplets of water tickled down the facets of his muscle and even his grimly determined expression. It opened with a loud huff. “Ahhhh… I'm about to cum. Hahhhh! Cumming! I'm cumming!"

Tav hadn't fully climbed off his own high. He was right back there upon Morth's announcement. He could feel it in Morth as much as he had felt in himself, that great pressure ready to blow its load into his womanhood. “Yes! Morth! Huhhhhh! Cum inside me! Yes! Please! Give it to me! Huhhhh! HUHHHHHHHHHHH~!!!"

Morth followed orders promptly. His humps hurried into a flesh-battering jackhammer for the last few seconds until he came heroically. “HRRRRNNNNGGGHHHHHH~~~!!!" His blushing, grimaced face was thrown backwards with the violent curve in his spine and thrust of the chest. His foremost was pasted to the gate of Tav's womb. It blew forth the first rope, flooding his lover's chalice and the void with it. The following spurts came gurgling out from around his cock root, between his stiff pole and the surrounding cunt flesh which convulsed around such a deluge. Ecstasies slamming head on, Tav joined Morth with another climax of his own, this one lost in the euphoria beset his mind and body.

The two men sank from their zeniths and were left doused in sweat, trying to catch their breaths. A bodily-soaked Tav whimpered on every exhale. His soul floated atop a sea of joy not soon to drain away, not with that stud in his bunk. He could feel a molten cistern sloshing inside him, filling that emptiness and dulling the fire at last. He didn't want the sensation to leave him. He wanted Morth inside him forever.

Alas, Morth let out a hoot. “My, my… Hah! That was incredible. Best fuck I've ever had, and with a man with a woman's parts. Incredible." He grabbed his pecker and made a slow retreat from Tav's quim, reintroducing him to his cock barbs until the head popped free. Pblblblphhhh. Out slimed a fat serving of Morth's cum which drained down Tav's inner buttock and onto the sheet below. His softening member, glazed in cum with a fat hock of it around the hilt, hovered in front of Tav's cavity which continued to bulge and belch with his erratic breathing. “How was your first time?" Morth asked cheekily.

Tav's wrist was atop his forehead. He laughed at Morth's audacity to ask. “Hahhhh… Good. I enjoyed it, just a little." He reminded himself of the way women liked to talk to him when he had finished fucking them. He could definitely relate. He lifted his head to look up at the stud kneeling between his legs, constellated in his cum droplets. “I'm glad it was you. I'm thankful I ran in here with such a heat that you noticed."

“And I'll be happy to provide should you ever ask." Morth stroked his penis slowly, squeezing out the last few pearlets of cum onto Tav's pussy and adding to the broth. “Well, I'm glad you enjoyed that as much as I did. If that's all, I'll be returning to my room. I may have to make my apologies to our fellow inn guests, but-"

“W-wait!" Tav raised his hand to stop him.

Morth had one leg already off the bed when he halted. “Yes? What is it?" He gave an uneasy smile. “Round two?"

Tav would've loved another, but that wasn't what he was worried about. “Well, no actually. I was wondering if…" Gods, am I really asking him this? “If you'd spend the night in here with me instead."

Morth raised his eyebrows. “Oh. Well…"

Tav immediately regretted asking. He shook his head. “Sorry, that was stupid of me. You probably have valuables in your room to protect. I-"

“No! No, it's quite alright," Morth insisted with a shake of his hand. “I've got that room locked right now with the key in my pocket," he said with a gesture to the clothes he'd left on the floor. “I can spend the night in here, if you'd like. I know I would."

Tav felt a claw of emotion in his heart. Dammit. I'm truly becoming like a woman. “Aye, that would be lovely." Then he scooted over, making sparse room for the behemoth to join him on the mattress. Morth opted instead to pull Tav into a seated position, lay down on his back next to Tav, then pull him over on top so that the hay mattress was replaced by a bedrock of tough and sturdy dragon muscle. Tav hugged Morth closely, his snout finding home in the valley of Morth's pecs. A big, meaty arm wrapped around him tightly, and before long the black dragonborn was snoozing.

Tav didn't blame him, not after all he'd put out for him, though it left Tav alone with his thoughts in the wake of the second time he lost his virginity. The room reeked of sex. His udder was painfully sore and so was his cunt from which thickish dragon seed still oozed lazily. In the afterglow he was left with some jarring clarity, that perhaps he'd made a mistake, that inviting Morth into his room and laying with him would prove a severe detriment to his journey. He hadn't caught feelings for the fellow, had he?

He was too exhausted to think about it too deeply. Awash in the comfort of another man's strength, Tav closed his eyes and within a few moments was asleep alongside his lover.

To be continued…