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Bart had never seen so many Guard officers in his life.

"Sir," he growled, and sketched a long-clawed salute with a forepaw as he trotted past a colonel. Major? He wasn't sure. He was busy saluting other ones.

No one said anything yesterday about today's shift being different. Yet the morning squad was frantically buffing their armor and putting freshly washed Verbobonc gold-and-green surcoats on over it.

"Oh, Bartleby," said Lieutenant Raus, the first officer he recognized today. "Azra is waiting for you in the guardhouse."

"Hey Bart," purred the hestan as Bart trotted in. "This just got here from the laundry." He held up an oversized surcoat. Unlike most Guard gear, Bart's armor and surcoat only covered his back, or rather his topside. Bart was built low to the ground and most often he was attacked from above or from the front. His armor and the steel bracers he wore on his front four legs dealt with that. Anyone who tried to crawl under him to attack his unarmored belly would also crawl into reach of many long badgery claws and fangs.

Less armor meant less weight to carry on his gate guard shifts, and that was nice. That might change if some high mucky-muck made him stand up to salute and found themselves staring at his balls. Fingers crossed, that wouldn't happen today.

"What is going on?" Bartleby growled. He opened his locker and dragged out the heavy chainmail coat. "Five years I've worked here, and I've never seen anything like it. Even inspections aren't this crazy."

"Don't know," Azra said. As Bart shrugged into his coat of chainmail he helped buckle it to the badger's harness, then clipped the surcoat on top of it. Bart scooped his narrow-muzzled helm from the locker and Azra buckled it on. The big buckles were sized so even Bart's clumsy badger forepaws could operate them, but not as quickly as the hestan.

The same lieutenant poked his nose in the door and nodded when he saw them nearly ready. "Outside the gate with your squad," he said.

"Sir," growled Bart. Azra grabbed his spear and followed him out the door.

Three captains and three lieutenants oversaw the shifts at the west gate and he saw all six of them, plus at least twenty officers he didn't know. It was no surprise that what must be a quarter of the city guard was outside the gate, forming up into neat squares. Bart and Azra saw some familiar faces and made their way to the west gate formation. As with the officers, all three squads were here, even the ones who were off duty.

It looked like an inspection was in the offing. Those happened maybe once a month but were usually just floor the on-duty squad. Maybe there was a new Guard commander and he was letting it be known he wanted some spit and polish.

"Bart," whispered Azra. The cat-man nudged the badger's flank and Bartleby followed the hestan's gaze. Atop the towers that flanked the gate were ballista, giant crossbows which fired spear-sized arrows. He'd helped the crews train a time or two, setting up hay bale targets and trotting back to the wall with spears held crossways in his jaws.

The crews of the two closest towers were covering their ballistae with tarps. Further along the wall the same thing was happening at other towers. The peaked roofs over their heads had wooden shutters that hinged down to rest on the parapet and the crews left these open as they tied down the tarps and came to attention.

"They don't want any accidents," Azra whispered.

"Must be someone important showing up," Bartleby agreed. "Some noble." He'd met the Viscount of Verbobonc when he ate a convict on the city's orders and had to go with captain Ransom to explain the situation. The convict turned out to be a Count's son and his associates hadn't been at all happy, but you can't un-digest someone.

Someone further up the line of company-squares shouted. Captain Ransom appeared and gestured until the west gate company was neatly formed up. Other captains were doing the same and there was a mutter from the troops as everyone tried to figure out what was up.

"All right!" Snapped Ransom. "We've got a big time noble showing up this morning, as some of you probably guessed. They may want to do an inspection. Just keep your mouths shut and it'll be over in an hour or so. Everyone gets a full day's pay, even the ones in from off-shift who are only here for this thing."

There was much nodding and muttering from the troops. The officers did a last walk through and a couple of guardsmen were sent away, either for uniform issues or because, from the look of them, they were drunk after being called in on a day off.

"ATTENTION!" Bellowed an officer with an orange braid around his helm. With a thump the guards with spears planted the butt of their weapon in the dirt and stood at attention. Bart stood stiffly on all sixes, mindful of how he stood out from the crowd. At least his armor and surcoat made it clear he belonged here.

Bartleby guessed that even the captain didn't know who was showing up. They would find out together. He stared down the trade road, wondering if the noble and entourage would arrive in a wagon or horseback.

It was Azra, again, who thought to look up. "Fuck," the hestan purred. The steel lames of Bart's helmet creaked as he followed the hestan's gaze.

There was a shimmer in the air, enormously broad, and then a dragon was there instead. It was bigger than any living thing Bartleby the badger had ever seen, its wings wider than three companies worth of Guard formations. Its tail was long and sinuous with a great sharp spade tip, its claws were like swords, and its horned head was bigger than the wagons he sniffed though on his morning gate duty.

There was a collective intake of breath into hundreds of men as the gold dragon landed in front of the formations. With a crunch it flattened the few bits of foliage they hadn't cleared out to open lines of sight for the wall sentries. For all its many tons of mass it landed with surprising delicacy. Just the same, had he been under it he would now be just a flattened badger rug.

Like hundreds of other Guardsman, Bartleby the badger stiffened where he stood and tried to look inconspicuous. Gold dragons were supposed to get benevolent and he hoped that stereotype held true. One blast of its fire (assuming it breathed fire, he was no expert on dragons) and half the assembled guards would be dead.

He knew why the ballistae were covered with tarps. One panicky pull of a firing lever and they'd have a big gold problem on their hands.

The cluster of officers at the front of the formation took a collective step forward, their legs steadier than his would be, and bowed to the dragon. They were facing away and the mostly human guards in the formations craned their necks as they tried to hear what was being said. The elves mixed in with the men began a running commentary, their ears good enough to hear what was going on. No elves were in their squad and someone elbowed Azra. Bart didn't need the help and listened intently.

"Lady of the mountains," the guard commander said, "Mistress of the waves, we welcome you on your pilgrimage."

"Thank you," hissed the Gold, and no one needed any help to hear it. They probably heard it up on the towers and maybe even inside the walls. "It is a pleasure to visit your little town again. It is bigger than when last I came here."

"I wonder how long its been," purred Azra, who was promptly elbowed again and went back to relaying the words of the guard officers.

"'It is always a pleasure to greet the emissary of the dragon council'," Azra purred. "That's the elf guard officer, not sure what rank but he's right next to the commander. "They are talking about boring things, politics. The city's problems with Furyondy, the alliance with Veluna, river trade, blah blah blah."

The dragon spoke a few times, but without the elves (and Azra) relating the other half of the conversation, most of the men wouldn't know what went on. It wasn't that different in that way from most inspections, except the inspector was a lot more intimidating.

"Your troops look well disciplined," the dragon hissed, a colossal fire-breathing teakettle with belly scales the size of shields. "Hardly any of them act like they want to run at the sight of me."

And then it happened. The dragon pointed a sword-sized claw directly at Bart's guard formation. Directly at Bart. "That is an unusual thing. Is that a guardsman?"

There was a brief muttered conversion between the senior officers that even Bart couldn't hear. One of them gestured to a nearby officer and so it went down the food chain until Captain Ransom was summoned. He glanced back at Bart as he reached the group of officers, and the muttered talk resumed.

"You would think someone would remember me after I visited the castle last year," Bartleby muttered in turn. He hoped that the dragon's attention would turn elsewhere. It didn't.

"That is Corporal Bartleby," the officer with the orange braid said, after conferring with Captain Ransom and being reminded who Bart was. "He is an Awakened dire badger."

"With too many legs," the dragon observed. "Call him forth, I would look at him."

"Bart!" Captain Ransom shouted. "Front and center!"

Bartleby the badger winced, but there was no help for it. Too late to be small and inconspicuous.

"Better him than me," whispered someone in the formation behind him. Bart padded forward until he was across from the captain.

"Well now," hissed the dragon. Up close it loomed over him, even with its wings folded. Its sinuous body was as thick as he was long, and he was seven feet nose to rump even without his tail.

"I will require an escort as I visit your town," the dragoness hissed. "The badger will do."

"Escort?" Bartleby thought. "Again?"

Escorting Octavia the displacer beast had worked out in the end, but Octavia was not a dragon. He kept his mouth firmly shut and waited to see what the officers would say.

"We were thinking you'd like someone well versed with the city," said the Elven officer. "I've lived here for a century, I could -"

"No," hissed the dragon. "The badger."

"Your grace," said the elf. "It shall be as you say."

"But," Bartleby said. He stopped talking as every eye fell on him. "Ma'am, you won't fit in the city."

That was an exaggeration, but not by much. If the streets were free of traffic and she kept her wings furled, maybe the dragon could squeeze through. One careless flick of her tail and a house would come down, though.

"Nonsense," hissed the dragon. "Here." She gestured with a claw, and was gone. It took Bart a moment to tilt his head down and see the elven woman standing in front of him.

She was slender and small even for an elf, less than five feet tall and a sixth Bart's weight at most. Layers of white and gold cloth covered her from head to toe and gold bracelets and silver armlets ornamented her arms. Highborn ladies seldom came to the Cracked Flask and ones who went through the gate talked to the officers, not peons like Bart.

"Now," said the elf maid, who was somehow still intimidating, "I just need a saddle. I'm sure I have one somewhere."

"Saddle," thought Bart, but he watched as she went through charms hanging on one of her bracelets. She took one and shook her hand. With a thump an elaborately beaded saddle landed in front of him.

"Ma'am," Bartleby growled. The officer with the orange braid glared at him. "Your grace, I am low to the ground. I will not be a good mount."

"Nonsense," she said again. "You won't need that armor."

Bart winced as she lifted her hand, sure he was about to be turned into a horse, but she just pointed. Captain Ransom fumbled at the buckles for his armor and the elven officer, in a visibly Ill humor, undid the ones on the other side. In moments they had the surcoat off and soon after they unbuckled the chainmail and the quilted gambeson it lay on. That left just the leather harness, and after some more fumbling they buckled the saddle in place between his fore and middle shoulders.

That was right where he'd worn one back in the barely remembered pre-Awakening days. He'd exaggerated. Someone could ride on his back, provided they bent their legs at the knees. Especially when the someone was a petite elf lady who sat sidesaddle.

"Onward, noble steed," she said, and clicked her tongue. Bart shrugged mentally and padded toward the gate.

"Best behavior," Captain Ransom whispered, knowing Bart would hear him. Bart ducked his head fractionally in obedience. Unfortunately, the elf heard him too.

"'Best behavior'?" she said as they drew out of earshot of the assembled troops. The formations began to break up as the guardsmen were dismissed, but everyone gave the badger and his passenger a wide berth. Bart waited under the muttering from the troops was loud enough to keep even the keen-eared from hearing his reply.

"Yes, your grace," Bartleby growled. They passed through the gate with the spearmen on either side backing away to clear the path. "I do not normally escort nobles."

"And what happens when you escort common folk?" She was looking around as they entered the city. Bart's claws clicked on the wooden sidewalk and passersby gave him a wider than usual space, gawking at the bejeweled elf on his back.

"I do not normally escort anyone, your grace," Bart growled. "I am a gate guard, and sometimes a fireman for the city. Only once before was I called on to escort, and that was because the person I escorted was also monstrous."

"I don't think you are monstrous," said the elf, and reached down from the saddle to stroke his bristly fur. "You're just a little badger with more legs than usual."

"Yes, your grace," Bartleby growled. A passerby heard him and recoiled. Duchesses don't just walk down the streets of Verbobonc, not even when on the back of badgers.

The light weight on his back made it easy to forget that atop him rode the closest thing to a god he'd ever meet. A centuries-old being to whom badgers were short-lived amusements sat in his saddle.

Bartleby the badger didn't often lie with elves. They were too small and frail for his taste. It made it easy to not think about what his old dumb self used to do with his riders. First they rode him, then he rode them, it went often enough.

"The city is divided into quarters," Bartleby growled as they passed a small park. "Castle quarter, high quarter, trade street, low quarter, the docks, warehouse quarter -"

"Just show me around," she said, and jabbed his flanks with her heels. With no better idea, Bartleby spent the day padding down the major streets that serves as arteries for the city. From time to time he'd point a claw and explain what they were passing by.

"The castle looks much as when I last visited," the elf-dragoness said as they went by it. "New paint, is all."

"How long ago was that," Bartleby growled.

"Never ask a lady her age," she said, and he heard the smile in her voice. "Now, why do you have six legs, badger?"

"I ate a displacer beast last year," Bart growled. "There was some sort of interaction between her magic and the magic that Awakened me."

"That should not have happened," she pondered. "Once the change is made, it is made."

"That's what the mage said," Bartleby growled. "I saw one with Octavia and she paid to have me examined. I've only done the first visit, though. Octavia is the displacer beast I mentioned," he added.

There was a moment of silence. "From that I gather that the visit was after you ate her."

"Her master brought her back. She then left his service and came to live here."

"Mm," murmured the elf dragon. "I'm guessing her master was a mage. If she had a number of spells on her when you ate her, maybe that would explain it."

Clickety-click went his badgery claws on the wooden sidewalks as they went down one street and then another. On the smaller streets sometimes his claws clattered on stones or even dirt. People mostly ignored him, as by the hundredth time you see a big badger in town it's become part of the landscape. They were more interested in his rider.

A toddler grabbed handfuls of his long flank-fur as he waited to cross a street, trying to climb onto his back for a horsey (badgery) ride. Bart looked at the child's mother and she helped free him from the sticky-fingered grasp.

"Sorry," Bart growled. "One rider at a time. Maybe another time."

"He eats people," whispered the girl conspiratorially to her mother.

"Only bad ones," she replied. Bart winked at her and trotted off. The elf dragoness said nothing, but he knew she was paying attention.

When he first came to town, no one would let a child near him and more than once the Guard was called because someone saw a "monster." Now he might be the person called when there was trouble.

On the other hand, some people didn't approve of him at all. Late in the afternoon a wild-eyed street preacher shouted to his small cluster of listeners and pointed an accusing finger across the street at Bart. Bart caught the words "abomination" and "bestiality" as he trotted by. A bored guardsman leaning on his spear shot him an apologetic look but Bart just shrugged a badgery shrug and continued on his way.

"Bestiality, eh?" Said the dragoness. He once more heard the smile on her lips.

"Monsters are few here," Bartleby growled. "If I get with someone who only has two legs, I guess it counts. But its that or nothing, most of the time."

At mid-afternoon she poked his flank with her heel and pointed. "Let's get out of the sun. Under that tree would be nice."

By coincidence, it was where he and Octavia stopped on what in hindsight was their first date. The flavored ice cart was there and Bartleby bought a cup for her and a bowl for him. Lime ice, this time.

"Hey Bart," said the cart man as he handed over the ices. "New girlfriend? Pretty high class for you."

"No!" Snapped Bartleby. Though the vendor had lowered his voice, he was certain the dragoness was listening. "I'm just showing her the town."

"Before showing her something else," the ice man grinned.

"Hush, Arturo," Bartleby grumbled. "I'm on duty."

Thankfully, the elf-dragon didn't say anything about the conversation. Bart carried the cup and bowl in his forepaws and walked on the other four. He wasn't a 'taur and it was easier to stand up when he needed more than one free paw, but he didn't want the dragoness to think he was showing off his unmentionables.

Dismounted, the elf-dragoness ate her lime ice with a wooden spoon the vendor provided while Bart licked at his. Bartleby sensed another set of eyes on them and turned his head to glare as an unsavory individual in a nearby alley eyed the elf's jewelry. Badgery fangs came out, the thug's eyes moved to him and that was the last he saw of the man.

"Just as well," Bart muttered as he lapped up his ice. "You want no part of this, trust me."

The elf smiled and patted his neck. "I notice that most people here aren't afraid of you. Even the mother and child."

"I live here," Bartleby said reasonably. "I am a guardsman, a bouncer, a fireman, so they see me a lot and see that I am safe to be around. Sometimes I eat people, yes, but it's for good reason."

"Mm," she murmured. "I was just in Keoland."

Bartleby sighed. "And you heard about the count's son."

"I didn't," she said. "But there was a magical recording I watched. A badger and a displacer beast, lovers. Very unusual."

"I get royalties for that one," Bart admitted. "Not very much, but its nice."

The elf ate the last spoonful of lime ice and handed cup and spoon back to the vendor to be washed. "I would like to meet this displacer beast."

"Yes, your grace," Bartleby said. Arturo the ice vendor watched with something like alarm as she climbed back into the saddle. He'd known she was rich, but a duchess?

He'd passed by the Low Quarter earlier but merely pointed at it. Now he took her there. Bars, rooming houses, tattoo parlors, houses of ill repute and a plethora of rundown homes. The poorer city-dwellers lived here, even ones who didn't work here. Every city needs a place like it. The sun had been down for half an hour when they came to the illuminated magical sign that showed fluid arcing from a cracked alchemical flask into a mug.

"The Cracked Flask," he growled as they went by the sign. "I work here as a bouncer in the evenings. I sleep in the basement, a merchant gave me a sleeping basket when I first got to the city. I ate some dogs that were tearing up his warehouse."

Half a dozen storefronts later they came across a hanging sign featuring a tentacled black cat. "The Black Cat," Bart said unnecessarily. "Octavia's rooming house."

Unlike the Cracked Flask the Cat was a simple rooming house. The Flask had rooms for rent too, but the bar and common area took up much of the space. The Cat's common area was much smaller, just a few couches and the manager's desk. Behind the desk sat a lithe black-furred cat woman with four arms, a set of barbed tentacles. If both of them were to stand up she she'd stand a head taller than Bart's seven feet, though he was heavier due to his muscular build.

The elf slid out of the saddle as they came in the door and Octavia's eyes turned that way. "Good evening, Bart. New girlfriend?"

"Octavia, I'm on duty," Bart growled. "Sorry," he said as he turned.

"Gah!" Bart almost jumped out of his fur. He meant to apologize to the elf, but next to him now was a second dire badger almost as large as himself. This one lacked his extra legs and even if she didn't have the elf's jeweled bracelets on her forelegs the bronze-gold tone of her fur gave the game away.

"Just as well," Octavia the displacer beast said from behind the desk. "Bart doesn't go in for elf lovers. He has to be ever so careful not to break them."

"Octavia, please," Bart pled. "This is -"

"I know who it is." Octavia rose from behind the desk, her lanky backward-bending legs unfolding. "Your grace, I believe it is." She curtsied to the badgeress. As usual Octavia was wearing a red and gold skirt and a broad shoulder mantle that only partly concealed her two sets of furry breasts.

"You must be the proprietress," growled the she-badger. Bart couldn't tell a male from a female dragon if you paid him, but one whiff of her scent confirmed the badger was female. "Do you rent male whores here, or just females?"

Bart winced and covered his eyes with a paw. "It's a boarding house," he said.

"The nearest whorehouse is a few doors down," Octavia purred as she sat back down. "I can introduce you to the owner if you like."

"Why would I need that," the badger-dragoness growled. "I have a strapping young badger right here if the mood strikes me. From the smell of the place, he's serviced you just fine."

"Ladies, please," Bart pled. "Be nice."

Octavia smiled a sharp-toothed smile and the badgeress chuckled. They were just teasing him, but he didn't want it to get out of hand.

"So," Octavia purred. She gestured to the fireplace and the two badgers sprawled on either side of it. One of Octavia's praka manservants brought them bowls of water and offered a bottle of wine. "You're the dragon council's envoy. Aurelian, something like that."

"Aurelia," the badgeress growled. "One of us visits the trade cities every decade or so. It's mostly tiresome political stuff, we draw straws to see who has to go. I haven't been here for a couple of centuries."

Centuries. He was, and he mentally counted on his claws, fifteen or so. Ten years since he was Awakened and maybe five or six years before that growing up and being a rent-a-mount. The Awakening magics gave him a much longer life than a normal badger but he'd be long in the grave before she visited again.

Aurelia, looked around the common room. There were bookshelves, one set of stairs and one ramp leading up to the rooms for rent. One door here led to the storerooms and bath, another to the garderobe. A window in the wall showed the way into the boarding house's small kitchen, where one of the praka was bustling around preparing box lunches for the renters. You could get meals here, but most renters just used it as a place to sleep.

He normally stopped by the Black Cat a couple of times a week for dinner but Octavia's current lover was a towering khardaki lion man who growled at the very thought of sharing his pussy. The lion would move on or Octavia would go into heat sooner or later, and that would bring Bart back into the picture again as a safe alternate to celibacy. Six legs or not he hadn't knocked her up last time she went into heat, and it wasn't for lack of trying.

"I'm curious," Aurelia said, and Bart was briefly annoyed that Octavia knew the dragoness's name before he did. "Bart here says he grew another set of legs after eating you. That's very unusual."

"I paid to have that checked out," Octavia purred. She shot Bart a look. "I guess the great lump has been lazy."

"I am used to them," Bart complained. "If I go to the tower of sages they will poke and prod me to no good end."

"If you had a number of spells on you when he ate you, that might explain in," Aurelia growled. "Who was your master, Beast?"

Octavia considered for a moment, but the use of that word instead of her name meant the dragoness wanted a real answer. "Zathras."

"Ah." The badgeress contemplated her long, curved foreclaws, which like her fur had a golden tone. "We dragons keep track of powerful mages and their activities, you know."

"I would in your place," Octavia purred.

Aurelia glanced at the bookshelves with their assortment of leather bound volumes, which to Bart's mind could use a few more editions of Jade's Monster Adventures. "This is quite a nice rooming house," the badgeress growled. "Must have cost quite a lot. One wonders how you paid for it. And having yourself magically changed to walk on two legs? Expensive."

"Perhaps I am still making payments," Octavia purred. She made a small gesture and the praka in the kitchen closed the shutters so they had privacy. "Say your piece, lady of the mountains."

The badgeress chuckled. "I bear you no ill will, cat. Zathras was powerful enough for us to watch him from afar, and we did not look on him favorably. A short trip through a big black cat would only improve him, to my thinking."

Octavia drank from her cup of wine and said nothing. Bart jumped as the badgeress poked his middle leg with a claw.

"Solid," she growled. "Not magical. Eating a displacer beast shouldn't do that. I expect Zathras had a body of spells on Octavia, maybe even a magical booby trap in case someone ate his pet."

The badgeress made an elaborate gesture with her claws and glowing lines followed their tips. "Whatever it was, it's spent now. Had Zathras survived, maybe he would have done something more to you from afar."

"I don't need that kind of enemy," Bartleby the badger growled. "I'm just a badger."

"If the magic had lingered, maybe you would have been able to absorb and extend the extra legs at will," the badgeress pondered. "Might even have gotten some minor shape changing ability."

"I don't need that either," Bartleby said. "I am happy exactly as I am."

"I can see why you like him," Aurelia growled. "Not an ambitious badger, but a solid sort of man. Those are useful too."

"He has his good points," Octavia allowed.

The street door opened and in came a khardaki lionman well over seven feet tall. He wore a red velvet vest with many brass rivets that showed it to be brigantine armor, wide studded bracers on his wrists, and gold and silver rings that divided his luxuriant mane into a dozen or more braids. The lion sat in the seat next to Octavia's desk and regarded the two big badgers by the fire.

One sniff and the lion was looking over the she-badger with some interest. The lion people were well known for being open to pretty much anything and before the lion said something that everyone would regret Bart turned his head. Aurelia stiffened as her nape was affectionately nibbled and that brought the lion's attention to Bart.

"I believe you were just leaving," growled the lion, and Bart nodded.

"There is more room for conversation at the Flask," Bart said, and Aurelia rose to her feet beside him.

"Octavia," Growled the badgeress, and ducked her head in a polite farewell.

"Your grace," purred Octavia, who rose and curtsied again to the horror of her lion lover. He stumbled to his feet but there was nothing to bow to but a set of badgery rumps on their way out the door.

Bart chuckled as he heard the lion mutter "Why didn't you say something!" They were out the door by then, and passersby shot surprised looks when not just one giant badger but two came padding down the sidewalk.

"I only mate in dragon form," growled the she-badger under her breath. "Don't get any ideas, badger."

"I was just distracting the lion," growled Bartleby. "He doesn't like me and I wanted him to kick us out before he suggested he'd like to do to you what you think I want to."

"I know you want to," she growled back. "I can smell it on you. You can't meet many badgers, and from what I've seen you prefer lovers you can talk to."

Bart sighed. "I cannot control what I want to do," he admitted. "But I can decide whether to do it. You are a guest of the city. I am your escort. That is all."

"Mm," murmured the she-badger. "You have good self control."

Bart, whose sheath went tight around his erection the moment she changed into a badger and who was trying to not think about how much he wanted to mount her, led them to the Flask. Thog the minotaur was on bouncer duty, but thankfully all he said was "Bart," as he nodded a greeting.

As usual one of the booths had its table and benches removed to make room for visitors of the feral sort, and the two badgers were soon sprawled out on the floor again. The praka minstrel who played here saw Bart put a claw to his lips and kept his arsenal of baudy songs holstered for the moment.

Maris the half-orc was on duty as a waitress and secondary bouncer at need. She must have heard about the dragon visitor and guessed that the bronze-gold badger was not as it appeared, because she brought them bowls of stew and beer without a word regarding the cute badger couple sharing a booth.

"Tomorrow morning I must see the viscount and his council," Aurelian growled when they finished eating. "Tiresome political stuff. We dragons don't pay much attention to humans and their ilk, but we do pay attention to countries. Verbobonc is more significant now than it was on my last visit."

Bart nodded. "I met the viscount once, though I doubt he remembers my name. I was assigned to eat a prisoner who turned out to be a count's son. That was the Keoland thing I mentioned. They wanted me to cough him up, but it was too late. You can't un-digest someone."

"No you can't," the she-badger growled. "Bartleby, I can smell that you want me."

Bart winced, hoping no one had heard. The praka minstrel certainly did, from the flick of his furry ear, but his clawed fingers didn't miss a note on the lyre. The little raccoon-man knew Bart's habits and had seen him court many a female, but he also saw how deferential Bart was to his companion. The praka kept his own council and kept his songs clean.

"I cannot help that you smell good," Bart growled. "And I cannot help that you are a pleasing shape. My body tells me to do things, but I can decide not to do them. I am on my best behavior, because those are my orders."

"I only mate in dragon form," muttered the she-badger. "I will not be mounted by a badger. Not even one with six legs, that talks."

"I know," Bartleby growled. The praka minstrel was watching them intently as he played. He could hear every word. Bart held a claw up in front of his muzzle again and the praka nodded, but how long could he stifle such a juicy idea for a song?

"If you turn back into the elf it will help," he growls. "Then there wouldn't be the smell, and the look."

She stood, suddenly, and shook herself. "Bartleby, come with me."

"Aurelia?" Bart rose and followed her to the door, and out. He nodded to Thog on the way by, though like it or not he was focused on the rump of the badgeress. She wasn't in heat, was she? He shouldn't be this horny just because a she-badger happened by.

If she stopped in front of his he wasn't sure he could keep himself from mounting her right there in the street. It was the smell, damn it. Did dragons make people horny when they turned into people? He'd read stories and heard the songs, but you can't trust writers and bards. According to them, everyone is horny.

She did stop, right in the middle of the street, but as he did his damnest to turn to the side rather than climb up over her and mount she stood up on her haunches. One paw went up over her head and drew a circle in the air. The people on the sidewalk, mostly looking at them, blinked and shook their heads.

"Where did they go?" One said, just as the badgeress's other forepaw reached out and picked Bart up by the scruff.

"Yawp," Bartleby said, because no one ever did that before. Even the half-ogre who busted up the bar last year and threw him through a wall needed both arms and a heave of his body to do it. Now a badger smaller than himself did it with one paw.

A badger, smaller than himself. Both things, only briefly. There was a whoosh of membranous wings and Bart found himself being carried off by a dragon.

The city lights diminished below them and all he could do was cling to the sword-long claws wrapped around him. Where there was a shaggy-furred badgeress he very much wanted to fuck now was a dragoness so massive it held him in its claw as an owl holds a mouse.

He'd never flown before and he didn't want to now, but he wasn't given a choice. He held onto the claws through the brief flight until she landed on a grassy hilltop miles from the town. It was two hours after sundown

"Observe," Aurelian hissed, and traced a circle in the air above them with a claw. "What do you see?"

"Invisibility," Bart growled. "You did the same thing on the street and people couldn't see us."

"Correct," hissed the dragon. "Do you know why I brought you here?"

She set him down next to her and Bart stood up on his hindpaws. She rolled over as she spoke and he saw the sideways crease in her belly scales between her hind legs, where the thick tail connected. It didn't take a genius to guess what it was.

Bart looked down and saw the pink tip of his penis protruding from the sheath. That brainless serpent never lost its stiffness, even during the flight. "Are you going to turn back into a badger? The elf would be much too tight."

"I only mate." The dragoness hissed. She curled her body forward and her fangs loomed over him. "In dragon form."

Bartleby looked down at his sheath, swollen hard with what most females told him was an impressive endowment, and across at the slit in her scales, long as he was tall. "Your Grace, I am flattered," Bartleby growled, "but there is only so much a badger can do for a dragon."

A hiss oozed out of her. One long-clawed dragon forepaw reached across and fumbled at the opposite one. He remembered how she produced the saddle earlier, the one he was still wearing. This time she came away with something so small he almost missed it when she dropped it into his paws. It was an enamelled broach with a spiral symbol on it, like a stylized breeze.

"Clip that onto your harness, badger," the dragoness hissed, and Bartleby found that the thing had a loop for a belt on the back. He undid one harness strap, threaded it through the loop, and buckled it again.

A slitted dragoness eye was watching and the moment he was done the claws wrapped around him again. Aurelia hissed, "That is called a Necklace of Adaptation, in brooch form. It will protect you from poisonous gases, and let you breathe where there is no air."

With a sinking feeling Bart's eyes turned to the long pinkish slit in the dragoness's scales. "You're joking."

"I am not," Aurelia hissed, and stuffed six hundred pounds of badger, harness and saddle whole into her sex.

There was a squelch and everything went dark. Warm flesh slithered past Bartleby's cheeks and flanks and his front four legs were pinned to his sides. He was suddenly wet from nose to haunches, his fur stuck to him by dragoness goo. Bartleby's hind legs kicked from her slit, and she put two toes on his rump and shoved the rest of him in.

With his long flank fur stuck to him Bartleby lost his turtle-like shape, but he was still a bulky six legged badger stretched out in the sex of a dragon. Or was it her sex? He'd only seen the one slit. Maybe dragons only had one hole and everything happened here?

He struggled for a moment against the inward-pressing flesh, knowing there was no air, but then he remembered the brooch. Sure enough, when he opened his mouth there was air to be had. A powerful wet smell of dragoness filled his nostrils, and the tight flesh around was soft enough that he wasn't crushed.

The dragoness rolled over, planted all claws on the ground, and began to arch. Squelch, squelch, squelch. Bartleby slid forward and back in the innards of the dragoness. He knew now what it felt like to be swallowed whole, albeit by a dragoness pussy or whatever this orifice was.

He couldn't help himself. His traitorous penis had never lost interest in her even when she went from extremely fuckable badgeress to this-is-a-terrible-idea dragoness and as the flesh slid past it his sheath pulled back to expose his cock. Her movements ground her tender inner flesh against his cock and Bartleby began to thrust.

Bartleby had fucked women and men, pussies and mouths and assholes, humans and Weres, beast people and even a couple of taurs. This wasn't like any of that. Slippery flesh surrounded him and wherever he thrust smooth wet dragoness was there to greet his cock. It was like fucking an enormous tongue that stroked his shaft as he and the dragoness moved in their separate ways. He soon adapted to the arching movements of his massive lover and thrust as each of hers reached its end. One one side his belly fur tickled his cock, on the other warm flesh and folds his shaft slipped into.

He didn't have any illusions that his cock was what made her squirm and shiver. It was the movements of his entire body that did that. Dragon males must be hung well because she enjoyed the movements of a six hundred pound badger inside her very much.

His muzzled was pressed against a fleshy obstruction, presumably the barrier between her sex and womb. If dragonesses had wombs. They laid eggs, or so he'd heard.

People he'd partly swallowed, and Rafferty the were-rat, who he'd swallowed entirely several times and later regurgitated, said there was a valve between his throat and stomach. This was something similar. He made no effort to push past it as there was enough room between her slit and the fleshy barricade for him to stretch out and hump. If he did, and was in there when he came -

It was not the time to worry about hypothetical badger-dragon hybrids or the mysterious internal anatomy of gold dragons. Bartleby was horny before being shoved in and thrust faster and faster as the dragoness did the same. The stretched sex twitched around him and he heard a muffled roar as the dragoness came. The flesh squeezed tight around him and Bartleby followed his lover into orgasm.

With a long growl he spent himself against the fleshy folds. There was so much dragoness slime that his cum was lost in it, spurted into a fleshy fold as he snarled and bucked.

Bartleby the badger sighed and relaxed, balls healthily emptied. He would happily have emptied them into the she-badger but this was fine, too. He lay there in a lazy post-orgasmic haze and idly wondered how he was going to get out.

The dragoness had that covered. The fleshy rippled, squeezing him from the nose on downward. Maybe this tube of flesh did serve as her bowels as well. It rippled and squeezed and Bartleby slid wetly from her slit, fur stuck tight to his flesh.

"Hello, little badger," Aurelia hissed. "I feel much better now."

"I hope so," Bartleby growled. He tried to stand only to have his slimy paws slide out from under him. He was coated with a thick layer of her internal fluids and stank of dragoness unmentionables.

"Just a moment," she hissed, and touched him with a claw. Just like that the slime and fluids evaporated into nothingness and his fur fluffed back out.

Bart coughed out a strand of dragoness slime the spell missed and she conjured up a mug of ale. Bartleby grabbed it between his forepaws and drank it down. Some of her inner slime was swallowed with it, but at least his breath wouldn't smell like dragoness pussy now.

"Now," the dragoness hissed, "here's what you need to know about dragons. Sometimes our matings are slow ceremonial things, with the male courting the female for years. Other times our urges overtake us and one falls on the other in a frenzy of lust. This can end well or badly, but it happens. There are many half dragons in the world that happened because a horny young dragon saw an animal or monster or human and said 'That doesn't look so bad'. You were so horny I got horny. That's one way it happens."

"We are going back to your inn now," she said. "When we walk in I will be angry at you and you'll be trying to calm me down. I will snap at you, rent a room, and tomorrow morning we'll have breakfast and you will resume escorting me. We haven't been gone long, and no one will know what happened. Ever," she hissed, and tapped him with a claw.

Bart nodded. When a noble and a commoner have a fling, 'We shall never speak of this again' was the usual ending. He'd fucked city ladies who smelled of expensive things and who wore a mask the entire time. They wanted to try out badger cock, or someone else's, because he wasn't the only nonhuman at the Cracked Flask who got visits like that.

"Yes, your grace," Bartleby the badger growled. He undid the harness strap and made to take the brooch off, only for her to raise a claw.

"Keep it," she hissed. "I have others. You aren't the first person I've taken advantage of in a moment of weakness. Just the first badger," she said with a fanged grin. "And if I visit Verbobonc again, you may need it."

"Yes, your grace," Bartleby growled. She tut-tutted at him, and he growled, "Aurelia."

The dragoness nodded, scooped him up in a claw, and spread her wings.

Later, he'd idly wonder to an officer what would happen if an Invisible flying enemy tried to enter the city. He'd be told that they had devices to detect such an attempt. But they didn't detect Aurelia. It probably wasn't the first city she snuck out of to conceal a tryst.

She changed just as they landed, becoming the badgeress again rather than smashing the surrounding buildings with her bulk. She led him around a corner and he guessed the Invisibility ended just then, as nighttime citizenry once more watched the two big badgers go by.

"That is unacceptable," she snapped as they came in the door of the Flask. "You are supposed to be my escort. There must be finer quarters available than this." She gestured with her claws.

"I'm sorry, your grace," Bartleby growled. "The low quarter isn't a place for fine inns. We could go to the high quarter, but I am seldom there. They have their own guard unit," he explained.

"Bah." She stood up on her haunches and put her claws on the bar. "I suppose I'll need a room here. Whatever you have, it needn't be too large. In this form I'll fit."

"Yes, ma'am," said the bartender. He saw Bart gesture frantically. "Your grace."

"Don't mind me," growled the badgeress, who pulled a silver ring from one of her bracelets and slapped it on the bar as payment. Politics puts me in a foul mood.". Bart watched her disappear up the stairs, fluffy badger tail trailing the rest. He'd still happily follow her and have a proper badgery mating, but it wasn't to be.

Bart sighed and headed for the cellar door. She went up to her room, he would go down to his, and never the twain shall meet.

On the way he passed Twitch-Tail the praka, the minstrel whose clever words and cleverer fingers got him more sex from bar-going ladies than Bart. It's a lot easier for a five foot tall raccoon man to talk a lady into bed than it is for a six hundred pound badger. The raccoon is a lot cuter, a better talker, and less scary.

"Didn't work out, huh," whispered the praka.

"Just as well," Bart growled just as quietly. "You know who that is, right?"

Twitch-Tail nodded. "Still, you two made a cute couple."

"When she is a badger, yes," Bart growled. He saw the quill and parchment on the table. The raccoon had added a word to the title since they came in. Now it was "The badger who -almost- fucked a dragon."

Bartleby the badger went down the stone steps to the cellar, pulled his sleeping basket down from where it leaned against the wall, and climbed in. As an afterthought he undid his harness. He often slept in it, but he'd never removed the saddle.

Half curled up, he considered his sheath, which was half swollen again. He reached a paw across and began to rub. His claws meant he couldn't wrap his forepaw around his shaft, but there were other ways.

Bartleby growled under his breath as his sheath retracted. Right now he'd like to be atop badgery Aurelia, gripping her tight with his midlegs and nipping her scruff as they fucked. It wasn't to be.

"You don't fuck the dragoness," Bartleby growled. "The dragoness fucks you." He opened his muzzle for his cock, and thought about her as he sucked.