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Potent Breeding

Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by EbaandIna

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Morwen crouched low to the ground, the blue-scaled dragoness’ wings kept tucked in against her back, the delicate membranes neatly kept out of the way. The hillocks surrounding the village offered her some cover, though she still wasn’t sure how the dragon rebellion she’d tracked down in the farming village would respond to her. Of course, she had no intention of causing harm to them or revealing their location – for it was another she sought, for only good reasons.

She hardly blended into the landscape as she scurried her way down to the village, following the scent of dragon to a barn on the outskirts: well-placed for the people of Humania gathering their crops for winter use. But the dragon rebellion had been forced to take refuge there and her speckled blue hide stood out too much in the hilly landscape, so she needed to be swift. Her pale, near-white horns framed her face nicely with a gentle curve to them and bony protrusions along the line of her jaw and cheek. However, Morwen would have fit in well back in Draconia, even if her colouration implied she was a dragoness best suited to rivers, lakes, or perhaps even the ocean.

The village was sleepy and quiet: the perfect place for the dragons to hide out, though it was a wonder the humans were allowing them to stay there. It took a few moments to convince the dragon in charge there, a young but determined green drake with a club-like tip to his tail. But they were amenable enough to her, hunkering down in the back of a large barn while the group of six drakes grudgingly informed her of the location of the dragon she really wanted to find.

Of course, she had to divulge information of her own so all was fair – but the dragoness did not intend to leave the rebellion dragons empty-clawed. Her exchange of information was more in keeping with ensuring their safety, though the location of a nearby wild herd of deer would go a long way to feeding the dragons, as long as they got to them before their travelling route encroached on a nearby human noble’s land. Humans tended to be quite finicky about things like that, but it was up to the rebelling dragons how they handled things.

Morwen, after all, had a prince to find.

And he wasn’t far at all, for which she was glad, taking briefly to the air with a beat and a flap of her wings to shape it to her will. She was of a slight build with large, expansive wings and a long tail that whipped out behind her as she flew, allowing her to adjust her flight path in the blink of an eye, heart surging with the raw thrill of flight itself. There would be nothing more natural to her, no, than feeling the air caressing her scales and wings, licking over her muzzle and teasing between her horns.

The fort was abandoned, though the dark stone rose high from the hilltop, the lower slopes crowded with a dense packing of trees. Although it may have made it difficult for the humans to get supplies to the fort, back when it had been inhabited by them, it was an excellent defensive position, forcing any attacking humans to move in singles through the trees. Any equipment they wanted their beasts of burden to drag along with them would have to be taken on foot, for the carts would not fit between the trees and the road itself had been narrowed too.

With the high walls of the fort looking down on the ocean not all that far away, for they were traditionally found on the coast, it was no issue at all for the dragon to reach. She floated down, spiralling gently and letting herself drift with direction, until she landed on one of the tallest, crumbling walls, settling herself on to the stone path that tracked around those exterior walls.

“Hello?” She called out, not wanting him to think he was being attacked. “Prince Alfholte? Are you near?”

Morwen was not too sure what the proper term of respect and recognition was for the prince; after all, he was the one who had left his lands, seeking a different way. Yet he was not in tune with the rebel dragons either, which was something she did not understand. Perhaps she did not understand, for she understood the purpose the drake served with her, for her life.

Together, they would make a purpose together.

Where the fort was open to the air, the walls had turned green with moss from the free flow of moisture that could never fully dry with the rather wet climate of that region. She moved carefully, not wanting to slip, for it was not as if her claws could grip the smooth stone as she descended. The centre of the circular fort was open and she descended the stairs, calling out for Prince Alfholte as she went.

Yet she needn’t have concerned herself with finding the dragon prince too much, for he was down in the centre of the fort, letting the fresh air ease over his scales. The dragon sat back on his haunches, seemingly in deep meditation, though his grey scales had helped him blend in with his surroundings, even though he was bigger and more muscled over his shoulders and hindquarters than she was.

“Alfholte?”

Morwen approached cautiously, tipping her head to the side a little and eyeing him up. He wouldn’t be much larger than her, she was sure, when he was standing – but the drake had lived a different life than she had and she was still a little younger than he was.

“Alfholte?”

She said his name a little louder, irritation hastening her tone. The drake before her rumbled a growl as he stirred, openly his eyes, his tail sliding out from where it had been tucked around his body with the tip laying across his front feet.

“What brings you here, dragoness?” He growled, though Alfholte was not truly unnerved by her, even though he fought with himself not to show his agitation at being disturbed too openly. “If you think to bring me back to my father, you will find yourself sorely mistaken…”

She smiled, parting her lips and showing her teeth in an expression that may have been found threatening to anyone other than a dragon.

“I heard you enjoy your solitude,” she said, “but I cannot fathom why. I’ve been searching for you, Alfholte, for quite some time.”

Alfholte grumbled, sitting up a little taller and eyeing the dragoness with a dismissive eye. She would not be a threat to him, though his body ached with that need all over again. Just who did she think she was to treat him like that, to come for him and disturb his meditation? He needed it more than any other dragon, or any of the creatures that practised such things, something clenching deep inside him.

“Leave now,” he grunted, shuddering as he slid his gaze away, nostrils flaring with the scent of the dragoness already infiltrating his lungs, trying to drag his mind to deeper, baser needs. “You… You have no place here. I need to concentrate, to keep my mind clear. You wouldn’t understand.”

Morwen shook her head and eyed him, raising her head as her long neck extended, looking over his grey scales and the light spines, the masculine curve of his horns. The prince didn’t look very regal there, but he was at least well-groomed.

“I want to stay,” she said simply, countering him. “I can help you… I only sought you out to serve you. If you think I’m going to turn you in to the king, I shall not. Any dragon worth their scales know the king is wicked and his trust, well…that has been broken many times over throughout the dragon lands.”

Alfholte barked a short laugh, devoid of true humour.

“It’s been a while since I’ve heard someone speak so openly of the king,” he said, a little more interesting against his will. “But if you believe my father untrustworthy, then you will find me just the same…and dangerous too.”

She pressed her lips together, surveying him again. So, what she’d heard about the prince had been true, clearly. It was clear in the subtle twitches in his body, how the tip of his tail twisted and curled anxiously back and forth. He was holding it all back, all that need and desire within him – though the drake should never have thought he had to seclude himself away. That alone proved he was different from the king, although that could be hard for one with such a fixed belief about themselves to understand.

“So much as a proper glance at you, dragoness…”

“Morwen,” she said, interjecting. “My name is Morwen.”

He fought not to roll his eyes, keeping the dragoness in his peripheral vision.

“Morwen then… If I looked at you wrong, I’d… I’d start a flood. Could you imagine living a life like that?”

She grinned open-mouthed again and lifted her tail, stalking around him. The drake, to his credit, did his best to keep his eyes off her.

“Oh, is that so?” She mused. “I do not think that is at all a bad thing, though I had heard of your inclinations…”

He shuddered.

“I… I’ve been holding off for quite some time. I needed to restrain myself, to learn discipline so I was not prey to instinct,” Alfholte admitted, his tongue already looser with the mere proximity of the dragoness. “Please, leave. I won’t be able to restrain myself if you stay here for much longer.”

She smiled, inclining her head gracefully.

“If you fear starting a flood, prince,” Morwen said as respectfully as she could, her tail flicking back and forth as heat warmed her body, breathing in the mild musk of the drake. “Then…maybe that is one way in which I can serve you. There is much less risk of harm, of course, if you unleash yourself inside my body.”

Morwen quivered, licking her lips, already wanting it all.

“It must be!” She insisted, scooting up in front of him and trying to catch his eye, heart pounding in her chest. “Alfholte, you will be about to go about your life and live as you please if you have someone to take your load. I am here, I am ready to serve.”

The drake groaned and tried to look away, yet her scent was all the more obvious with her as close to him as she was, his heart hammering in time with the dragoness’. He didn’t have outwardly defined ears but small indents where his ears were hidden, though he could sense the vibrations the beat of her heart made in his proximity.

“I can’t…”

Yet it was hard to resist as Alfholte shifted his weight from foot to foot, standing without realising what he was doing and taking in a big, grunting breath. She was persistent, however, and he vaguely wondered just how much of him and the needs of his body Morwen had heard and learned from his time in Draconia – though, admittedly, not all of it might be true. She clearly knew more than enough of how to serve him best and Alfholte fought the urge to lick his lips again, for she may well have closed the distance between them in a sultry, lustful kiss that he would not be able to resist.

The slit at the base of his belly parted lightly, his shaft protruding slowly and smoothly. The length emerged hard and glistening with a faint hint of pre-cum at the tip – though one would only have been able to catch sight of it if they had been looking for it. The rest of his shaft was smooth and fleshy, a light pink colour that was more akin to his flesh than the pink of a dragon’s scales Alfholte had once seen.

“Oh, but you can,” she said earnestly, turning to present to him, lifting her tail. “Prince… My prince. My body is here and all to be used in your service. I have nothing I wish to hold back from you.”

Morwen wanted him to know it was okay, though that manner of thinking somehow seemed overly simplistic for all that was going on. She purred and rubbed up against him, though respectfully ignored his growing member for the time being, though the scale-on-scale contact sent a rippling shudder through him.

“You’ll be bloated… I spend a lot when I ejaculate,” he warned her, though every pump of blood from his heart went directly to his cock, thickening it as more and more pushed out of his slit. “Full of my seed… Is that what you really want?”

It was more and more difficult for Alfholte to hold back – and the drake was not even sure he wanted to. He’d been keeping himself away, trying to make his peace with himself and who he was, the needs of his body…and yet it didn’t at all seem that had got him very far at all. He had left his lands – but for what reason? What goal?

The drake quivered, licking his lips, though the moisture on the tip of his muzzle only seemed to sharpen every other sensation, need lurching deep inside. Morwen, however, only nuzzled his neck in a way that seemed to calm him a little, even though the pulse of energy reverberating through his body called his attention away from that gentle touch.

“Oh, I am looking forward to it,” she all but purred. “You may give me your climax, Alfholte, if I may call you so informally. I will carry every last one of your eggs as many times over as you would like to take me.”

She assumed the position before him again, her tail raised high and spilling over her back, the slit of her sex exposed. It was separate from her tail hole, where some dragons had a cloaca, and he gasped as his body lurched to its feet, feeling like he was disconnected and yet grounded in himself simultaneously. Alfholte lapped at the side of his muzzle, his cock fully out and throbbing, the thick length begged to drive into the dragoness’ willing pussy.

He could have gone more slowly, taken his time, lapped up into his sex, but Alfholte didn’t have the willpower with the dragoness presenting herself to him so devoutly, bowing her front half to the ground. The action pushed her rump up even higher for him and he jerked to attention, rising on to his back legs and pushing over her back, the pressure and weight of his body keeping Morwen’s tail pinned out of the way.

Morwen gasped as he landed on her, heart thudding in her chest, but she was more than ready for him.

“Yes… Take me!”

It was almost a demand snapping from her lips, but it was fine. She stayed still as the tapered tip of his cock with a thick, defined head teased down from the underside of her tail. It left a smear of pre-cum in its wake, pumping from his shaft, although the dragoness fought her natural urge to help him out. He was already over-productive as more and more spilled heavily from his shaft and the head caught in her sex, allowing the drake to put the weight of his body behind the first thrust.

“Ohhhh!”

Their moans filled the air as he ground inside her, stretching out her pussy as her sex gripped him passionately, as if her body was trying to grab and pull him inside, teasing over his length with every squeeze of her velvety passage. Alfholte grunted in the back of his throat, trying to clamp his jaws shut against the pleasure, but it was coming whether the previously denied drake was ready for it or not.

He had denied himself for too long, truly, and Alfholte let out a hissing rasp as he bred her, thrusting hard and fast as her pussy opened up for him. Her sex hugged every inch of his cock as he almost roughly worked it deeper inside her, his slit flush with hers as he thrust, but the dragoness’ arousal was more than enough to render his way slick and easy. Morwen’s moans were almost more antagonising than they were passionate, drawing him into a mating thrust, hips working quickly to pump her full.

“Unff… So…tight…”

But she wasn’t that tight, not so tight that he could not take her as he wanted, moaning and finally allowing his tongue to dangle out of his muzzle. Alfholte’s wings flared and he flapped them without thinking, sending a gust of shaped air down to sweep against the ground, rattling small stones.

Morwen barely even noticed, however, as she groaned and shuddered, her pussy clenching around his cock. It was big, somewhere near the largest she’d taken, but her body wrapped around it as she rocked back against him, striving, even then, to pin her tail up higher. She needed it, panting heavily with every rise and fall of her flanks, heaving for breath, barely even able to rock back because of his weight lunging over her.

She could already imagine just how much she was going to swell with his eggs, or even his load, her belly bloating out massively, just as Alfholte had promised. Maybe it had been untoward of her to come upon him in such a state, but it was hard to think sensibly when faced with such an opportunity. To her surprise and delight, he huffed and exhaled, exuding a faint, pink cloud that, when inhaled, sent a shot of fire directly into her loins.

Morwen hissed through her teeth and tried to thrash her tail, rocking her hips. More, she needed more, his breath inducing greater lust in her still. He leaned on her, gripping her sides to keep the dragoness in place, but it was not as if Morwen wanted to go anywhere; she was merely more active as her body ached with desire, wanting the drake even more than she had before.

That cock felt good, too good, inside her, thrusting hard and fast, slopping more and more pre-cum from the head. It felt like he was cumming already, but that was just pre-cum slopping from him, his body aching to release as she clenched and rippled around his cock.

Morwen was hardly in control of herself, merely bearing back as much as she could against the drake, her tail pinned to his underbelly. Barely able to breathe, she grunted and heaved as he powered into her, his thick length driving deep and her body arching into his touch. It was impossible to resist as tension coiled inside her, tightening with every mighty thrust of his cock until she could only cry out her bliss and her release.

Orgasm gripped the dragoness, but it was Alfholte who exhaled more heavily, his lust-ridden breath drowning them there. He grunted and heaved, but even he was too weak to pause the rock of his hips, the dragoness’ pussy milking him as he thrust harder and faster, hips moving so quickly that they could have been a blur. Her climax spurred him on and he bellowed, flaring his wings, as he rutted her furiously, all to his own ecstasy.

He was cumming before his mind had caught up with it, a huge load of seed beyond anything a dragon of his size should have produced flooding the dragoness. It bloated her out swiftly, forcing its way up into her womb and encouraging her flanks to swell. Morwen groaned, but she held fast, her head down on the ground as her eyelids fluttered, tail twitching weakly against his stomach. Yet Alfholte could only roar, twisting his head and letting loose his lust in the most carnal way possible as she was crudely inflated with every drop of seed his body had to offer.

It was a flood indeed, cum leaking out the join of their bodies, dripping down over her scales and pooling between Morwen’s hind legs. Yet the dragoness’ body held all it could as she sank lower, a sense of heaviness enveloping her as the drake she coveted erupted inside her. She expanded to the point where she would have had trouble walking if she had been of a mind to, though all Morwen wanted was to lay there under the prince, to have him cum inside her over and over again until he was drained dry. And then they could do it all over again.

Slowly, as the deluge of thick seed tapered off, Alfholte stepped back, gently withdrawing his member from her slit. It slopped from her in a splurge of cum, drooling thickly from her slit. His tongue flickered out, tasting the air.

“Come,” he said gently, seeming clearer of mind after completion. “Let’s get you somewhere comfortable… Our magic will be at work tonight.”

Although the dragoness grunted, she obliged, rocking to her feet as her huge, round abdomen tried to drag her off-balance.

The potency of his seed and the magic in their blood rendered her heavy and swollen in the night, her womb bloating with eggs as their growth accelerated. Although Morwen slept heavily, the dragoness squirmed and rolled in the night, settled in a comfortable room within the fort. Alfholte had piled it high with blankets and comforts, clearly purchased from or traded for with the humans, but her pregnancy escalated sharply with her slumber.

As the magic rendered her gravid with his eggs, she woke to the dim dawn light filtering in and a sense of heaviness in her body.

“Ohhh, by the makers…”

She moaned and tried to roll over, but the massive swell of her stomach was much greater than even when she’d been inflated with his seed, though Morwen still stank of him. It was as if Alfholte had left his mark on her in more ways than one, though the prince stirred swiftly, scrambling to his feet to support her in rising to her own as soon as he realised she was awake.

“Ah! Morwen!”

He was brighter and more settled in himself after his climax of the previous day, even his expression softer, as if the muscles of his face had relaxed. Yet he worried around her as Morwen moaned and squatted, her tail held loosely to the side as she dealt with the consequences of her rather rapid pregnancy.

“Ah…” She groaned, snaking her head back and forth as she squatted lower and bore down, squeezing in a way she had never done before. “They’re coming…”

He leaned against her, supporting her with his body as Morwen laid the eggs. The dragoness huffed and groaned, vocal in her efforts to release the eggs from her body, though she could only ease herself through the process. Muscles she had never had to think about contracted as she pushed the eggs laboriously from her body, one after the other plopping out of her stretched, gaping entrance.

Alfholte moved swiftly, ensuring the eggs had a blanket nest to land in, slippery and shining. They were not all the same colour, some grey and some blue, though they seemed to take after the scale colours of their parents. Running a claw over one, Alfholte gulped and shook his head. The dragoness moaned and bore down, her body quaking as nine eggs in total found their way out into the world.

“Our eggs…” He said wondrously. “I will… They would be best with the leader of the rebellion, they will know what to do with them – how to raise them. I would be an unworthy father, considering where I came from.”

Alfholte swallowed hard, forcing away the shame. It didn’t sit right with him – but a fiery dragoness rounded on him, her flanks still heaving from the strain of laying their clutch.

“You will no longer speak of yourself that way,” she declared, even though Morwen was speaking to a prince. “It is your modesty and kindness, how you’ve reflected on the ill-advised ways of your own father, that will make you the great father you will be. These are your eggs. You should raise them. We should raise them.”

Huffing, the drake sat back, looking down at the blanket nest with their precious clutch cradled inside.

“We…shall have to see about that. When they hatch.”

He eyed up the dragoness, wondering how long it would be until she’d be happy to be bred again, something warming inside him. In potent breeding, perhaps there was more good to be had in Morwen’s company.

In the worst of times, there was still change to be had, after all.