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Fated Scales

A novel by Cheetahs(Aryn Storm)

Chapter Description: Courage and honesty, acceptance and realization, dread and despair, and above all, hope. These are the hallmarks and pillars of the climactic finale to "Fated Scales" in which the bonds between two best friends are put to the ultimate test. Will they hold, or will they break? Read and find out!

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Chapter 9: The Promise (Novel finale)

Alex didn't mind the winds bouncing off his soggy scales and wing membranes. He didn't care about the shivers coursing through his muscles. Once again, the emptiness within him expanded, growing into a dreary cloud that blotted out every sliver of light.

How could one be happy, when his future was riddled with uncertainty? How could he hope to cope with his condition, when he had no allies to aid him in this losing battle?

You have Doran. You always had Doran. Flawed as he is, that is all you have. Better than being alone. Better than being nobody.

Once upon a time, Alex actually believed that.

No longer. Not after Doran had betrayed his trust in the most despicable way, by using a command to subdue him. The initial shock had worn off a long time ago, but the implications of his doing still haunted Alex to this day.

If that act of haughtiness hadn't proven clearly that Doran saw Alex as nothing more than a glorified pet, then Alex wasn't a dragon. Which, sadly, he was, and by association with his body and its functions, also Doran's private pet.

This thought burned him. It tore at him from the inside, making him wonder what was the point of it all. Who in the right mind would forsake their privileged status to become something less?

Him, of course. Alex the naïve fool who had suspected this outcome, but chose to shrug it off in favor of following an idealistic thread, where Doran and him were equals.

I will become his equal, Alex decided. And the only way to do that is by...

His line of thought stopped there, the part of him that was Alyreth stopping him in his tracks. His stomach sunk, and his guts twisted at the prospect of letting go of her, of abandoning this side of him for good. It represented freedom, instinct, and the return to an ancient, simple and satisfying life that got swallowed by a modern lifestyle.

This side had never ceased to tempt him with its promises, and right now, it fought against his judgment with everything it had.

You're insane. You are going insane if you're thinking you have a split personality disorder. It has always been you. Everything that you have done is on you, Alex. It's been you all along, while Alyreth represents the gift that you openly reject, simply because it is Doran's. Nothing more, nothing less.

The stiffness vanished from his limbs, and the knot that had formed within his stomach unraveled. It all made sense, to pin his little escapades and fleeting moments of happiness on Alyreth, to pretend that this transformation had brought along a miracle with it that would wrestle Alex out of the pit of despair he dug himself into daily. It would have been much more simple for him to accept the transformation if he convinced himself of the benefits it brought. Alyreth was free in every way that Alex was not and, at times, Alex tasted the sweetness of independence.

But that was all false. Alex could see it now. Alyreth wasn't free. She just had a different name, a convenient mask meant to shroud the world when it turned too dark and oppressive. Alex could take any identity he wanted; roam every inch of the reserve--even fly over the mountains if he so wished. That still wouldn't change anything. Alyreth, Alex, Dragon--the name didn't matter to Doran. Only his status, that of a pet whose master could conveniently track thanks to the nanobots riding within his bloodstream. No matter where he went, no matter how far he flew, Doran would find him, fasten the collar around his neck, tie him to a leash and jerk him back home. So why fight it? Why postpone the inevitable?

I'm not broken yet, you son of a bitch. You can twist my body in every way that you like, but you have yet to shatter my spirit.

His mind hardened with purpose, Alex' gait turned into a dash, his claws tearing clumps of grass and dirt as he sprinted between the trees with unmatched agility. Once the muddy, uneven ground of the forest gave way to the neat lawn surrounding the house, Alex spread his wings, beating them once, twice, gaining just enough height to enhance his leap through a window, tucking his wings at the very last moment to avoid damaging them. His paws skidded along the naked tiles, but unlike the bumbling Alex, Alyreth gracefully twisted and wove around a table, jumping into an armchair to stop her momentum.

_Whoa!_Alex' inner geek shouted within his mind. His body expertly dodged obstacles instinctively. All he had to do was believe in the possibility of it and go with the flow instead of fighting against it. For a moment, he wished to simply lounge on the comfy armchair, muddy as his paws were, and simply catch his breath. He could follow through with his plans later. He didn't have to do that now.

Yes. Yes I do, Alex convinced himself yet again. On the way to Doran's bedroom, his steps slowed down to a mere shuffle. His wings sagged in their frames, his head lowered in doubt, and his tail tip twitched frantically, showcasing his tumultuous nerves.

Once you do this, there is no turning back.

Alex ignored his doubt, climbing the steps of the staircase that lead into the corridor of the first floor.

You may get what you want, but it will cost you dearly.

He hoisted himself onto his hind legs, grabbing the doorknob between his forepaws, then twisting it to the side until it clicked.

Are you ready to face your destiny? Truly ready?

His destiny was, of course, Doran's PC, and Alex felt anything but ready. Thousands of possibilities of handling this roamed through his mind, and yet, only one resonated with him.

That of getting back his humanity, his status as a person, his hands, his speech--everything that he had lost at the hands of Doran!

The thought should have excited him, but instead, it fueled his hopelessness. Regardless of the way he sugarcoated this, he stood to lose either way. Staying as Alyreth meant losing his humanity by becoming a pet to Doran. Reverting back to a human or switching into an anthro form meant losing Doran's friendship forever. The more he delayed this, the more his mind would unravel. It already cracked and splintered in multiple areas. The memories of the past few weeks provided Alex with the most eloquent example as to how pressure could flay his spirit. He had to pick the lesser of all evils, and that meant...

Alex didn't know. His mind suddenly turned blank, and right now, he wanted nothing more than to flee back to his room and stay there for all eternity.

But that meant being a coward. More than that, was he really supposed to relinquish the hold over his destiny and hand over the reins to Doran. Hell no!

Alex turned on the computer with the tip of a claw, clambered onto Doran's office chair, lowered himself onto his haunches and pulled the hovering tray that held the keyboard in front of him, where his forepaw had access to the keys. He guided a claw along the touchpad to open a text document, then shifted his paw over to the keyboard, taking a deep breath to calm the subtle tremors slithering underneath his scaled hide.

He stared at the blank document, trying--and failing--to come up with a solid way to put his thoughts down onto the page. His paws made him awfully self-conscious, as did his feral body. It felt...dirty, and somewhat unforgivable, for a feral creature to attempt to reconnect with its human past. Now that his transformation was almost over, this--all this--should no longer be a part of his world. He didn't deserve to sit in a chair, didn't deserve to keep his dirty paw over a keyboard designed for fingers, not clawed toes.

More than anything, the whiteness of the document instilled a crippling doubt within it, for it too accurately represented his current path in life. A blank slate, ready to be dirtied with scribbles that he could never erase. That put a tremendous pressure on Alex, flaring his instinct to flee all this, to run back to the forest, the domain of peace and quiet. He almost did that.

But then, he remembered that fateful episode, where Doran had subdued him with a mere command. He recalled all the small things that hinted at his personality, that of a selfish, arrogant, manipulative freak who always wanted to have things his way. That, in conjuncture with the power he held over Alex, made him a too dangerous person to be around.

And to think that Alex loved him and trusted him...

Not any longer.

He curled two of his other toes inwards, using a single claw to tap the keys, the motion awkward and frustrating to his paw.

"It should not come across as a shock to you that I am writing this message. If you are as smart as I think you are, you probably noticed the signs a long time ago. I cannot do this anymore, Doran. I cannot pretend to be someone--something--I'm not just for your sake. I have lived with you, for you. I have been through hell and beyond with this transformation, and have endured unimaginable pain and countless sleepless nights, just to see it through."

He pulled his paw back, flexing his toes, baring his fangs halfway at the unpleasant stiffness that had settled within. It wasn't enough that this message sapped him of his strength. It had to add physical discomfort into the mix.

"Now, it is all over. I am finally transformed. My dream is here, and all I have to do is reach out for it. I have ran this scenario through my mind countless times, smiling at its possibilities, grinning at the idea of absolute freedom, giggling like a fool at the prospect of being closer to you than ever. I should feel excited--ecstatic, even. Instead, I feel nothing, and I know nothing, aside from one thing: that I want my humanity back. I want my fingers back, I want my voice back, I want my world back. I want you back as well, but I doubt you would have me..."

Alex' stomach began to churn under the might of all those unrequited emotions. He pulled his paw back, blinking his nictitating membranes to push the tears back. The good thing about being a dragon was that crying became a dignified affair, without sniffles and whimpers and sobs. A few, almost unnoticeable tears were all that Alex had to shed, which he allowed to roll down across his scaly cheeks.

"I am glad at least one of us enjoys this drastic change in our lives. You seem happy, fulfilled, untarnished by everything that has happened. What need have you of a broken person who never had any particular ability or talent? Why would you keep around a person who openly rejected your gift? You're too smart and logical for that, and unlike my coward self, you know when to stand up for yourself and say no."

He paused to flex his rigid toes and swallow back the dread that threatened to engulf him. It was only now that realization began setting in, along with the outcome this message would bring.

And still, Alex kept writing.

"But just in case you're not the cold blooded bastard everyone thinks you are, I have a confession to make, one that should help you make this decision without having any seconds thoughts. You have broken my trust for good after abusing a command to put me in place. The shock hurt, yes, but no more than you stepping over a promise you made to me. Since that day, my perception of you has been twisted forever, and there is only one thing you can do to remedy that: by granting my request, that of turning me into an anthro dragoness or reverting this shit altogether."

He should have stopped here.

But he didn't.

"Just so we're clear. I am not turning down the transformation. I am turning down you. You get it? I want NOTHING to do with you! Ever since I met you, everything I have ever cared about is gone! Ruined, turned to shit, dead, ever since I put myself in the hands of the great Doran. I have never been more alone and more miserable than I am now. I have nothing!!! No one!!! All right? It's all gone, all gone, because of you. Get it?"

Alex trembled like a leaf, the very marrow within his bones frozen by the ice he poured into his message. His wings began rustling from the intensity of the tremors, his fangs clicking against each other ever so subtle. No matter how hard and often he swallowed, his throat remained clenched, almost shut, just like his heart.

"No, no, no. Why? Why would you ever get it? Why would you even care, so long as you get what you want? That's all there is to it. You don't give a shit about me. Never did. You made your respect for me plenty obvious when you required an artificial command to placate your best friend."

Alex snarled to himself. He was close, so close to putting an end to it all, and yet, neither his mind nor body could endure more of this punishment. On the verge of emotional breakdown, Alex continued to type with a shaky, trembling paw.

"There are a thousand things I can say to you, but instead, I'll go ahead and blackmail you. Do right by me, or you will forever have the death of your best friend and pet on your conscience."

The savage ending of the message shattered the frail dam that kept Alex' emotions in check. He leaped out of the chair, sought the comfort of his room, and trudged under the blankets, trembling like a leaf and whimpering like a scared hatchling. He had considered death multiple times, but having written it down where Doran's eyes would find it terrified him more than just the fleeting thought of it, for the written words made it true.

At the moment, Alex felt ready to die if Doran denied his request, just to put an end to this nightmare that had taken hold over his life.

Wrapped in the warm, uncaring embrace of his blanket, Alex let loose the tide of sorrow that had consumed him for far too long. As if to add salt to the injury, even crying became a tedious affair to a dragon. Sobs turned into silent, pitiful squeaks, broken down by eerie moments of silence that sniffles used to fill. No mucus filled his nostrils to help produce that crude sound, and simply flaring them helped simmer his outburst down through the generous intake of oxygen.

At least the tears remained the same, felt the same, and flowed the same down the pebbly scales of his cheeks, slithering towards the fluff of his cheeks where they disappeared into the snow-white mass of silken fur. Alex didn't bother wiping them down. He would simply smear them over his scales, or worse, gouge an eye out with one of his clumsy claws.

His tremors lessened too soon. His tears died too fast. What was the point of crying, if not for relief? Even now, his body still plotted against him, callously brushing aside his sorrow in favor of stunning numbness.

Whatever. It no longer mattered.

Alex rolled from side to side, working the blanket around his sleek form, wrapping himself in a bundle of quilted fabric, darkened scales, and drooping fur. He remained like that for a long while, his chin rested on his forepaws, his gaze aimed at the green and blue expanse of the lawn, sky and forest strewing past his window. Having wrenched his heart out of his chest in order to lay it down where Doran could see it, all that was left of Alex was a void, borderless, unfathomable.

Irreversible.

He didn't know for how long he remained like that. Only that twilight came, and with it, immeasurable stress. Regardless of Doran's reply, Alex had to go through another transformation, one of them more permanent than the other.

It was then when Alex realized that he didn't want to die without making contact with his human side for one last time. He spotted a sturdy tome with a thick spine jutting out of the bookcase, and went to fetch it by hooking up a claw around its edge and dragging it down onto the ground, where it opened out of its own accord.

He lowered himself onto his belly right in front of it, holding it in place with the claws of his left paw while he turned the pages with a single toe. The letters stood out with crisp clarity before his draconic eyes. His mind filtered the words swiftly and precisely, contouring multiple meanings and scenarios for every single phrase, paragraph, page.

Alex grappled the cover with a claw, upended it and scanned its intricately embossed title, "The Way of Kings." In a past life that now sunk at the bottom of his inner void, Alex recalled reading the first few chapters of this work and quitting it due to its extraneous descriptions and slow beginning. Now, every sentence read like a poem, embellished with a thousand meanings, each of them serving to remind Alex what he had lost: his heart, his soul.

His humanity.

He didn't accept that. Not yet. Not as long as he still held the ability to flip the pages of a book. His tail swished from side to side, smoothing the furrows left by the tail tip sweeping along the luxurious surface of the Persian rug. Engrossed by the tale, Alex' mind soared to new heights, leaving this dull and painful plane of existence and ascending towards the fantastic world sprawling behind the letters.

Oh, how he missed this. Every word soothed his tattered spirit, knitting the patchwork threads that kept Alex together. Slowly but certainly, they restored long lost slivers of his lost humanity, proving to Alex that he was more than just a beast, more than just a pet, more than...

The soft tearing sound ended Alex' reverie. He blinked once, twice, wondering for a fleeting moment whether he imagined that sound.

The tear proved otherwise. His claw must have hooked one of the pages in his rush to get to the next part. It drew a thin, linear gash that traversed a few precious rows of text, a mere inconvenience that Alex shrugged off in favor of continuing his adventure.

His heart skipped a beat whenever Gaz sent Kaladin and his bridge four squad out on the battlefield to transport their namesake construction across the chasms dividing the Shattered Plains. His guts lurched as volleys of arrows rained down upon Kaladin and his bridge men, and his breath caught in his throat, left paw instinctively reaching over his snout when he found out that, despite the deaths Kaladin's squad suffered, they carried that damn bridge forward, so that their army could cross the chasms and break through the Parshendi ranks. They almost made it. They settled down their bridge to cover the gap between the chasms, and...

Alex yelped. His neck arched inwards, head pulling back as if a cobra bit him on the snout. To a human, the sound of tearing paper didn't sound like much, but to a distracted dragon with keen hearing, the same sound caused him to flinch like a scared rabbit.

And that wasn't the worst part. The next page, the one that should have revealed Kaladin's fate, lay in tatters. Inadvertently, Alex had tried to use his left paw to flip the page, while his right one still sat on the page to keep it in place, a habit that Alex the human passed to Alyreth the dragoness.

"Grrrr," came Alex' smoldering growl. He pieced the page together, worked through the meaning of the shredded words, and sought to push back the irritation welling within him. He liked this. He enjoyed it. He was more than capable to handle a book in spite of his...

It happened again. Alex swallowed back his spite, furled his wings neatly to his sides, and forced himself to keep going. Five pages later, the paper got stuck between his toes. When he pushed his paw back, a chunk of paper came off with it, his claws curling at the last damnable moment.

Frustration fettered Alex' mind. From that point onwards, his clumsy paws tore, shredded, and crumpled the frail paper. His irritation bred anger, and anger soured into desperation as, little by little, page by page, Alex' bestial hands found ways to turn a work of beauty into something torn, damaged.

Monstrous.

Just like him.

He slipped a paw under the book to hoist it up and grabbed it in his maw. He carried it over to the trash bin to casually dump it in there. He did this with another book, and another, and another, until a mass of jutting corners reached out of the trash bin, all the beauty they held covered by thick, azure plastic.

Alex seized the trash bin by its edge, tilted it at an angle, and began dragging it across the floor, pausing only to spend several agonizing moments to twist open the doorknobs. Once outside, he placed the trash bin in an upright position, stepped back, took a breath so deep his lungs hurt, and bathed it with a continuous stream of vermilion flames.

The plastic simmered and melted. The books crackled their dying breath, all their artistry--their soul-- rolling towards the sky in swirling columns of angry, ebony smoke. Alex stopped his fire. It blinded him, kept him from witnessing his doing, and also left a terrible taste in his maw. He shook his head left and right, snarling and spitting and growling. In the end, he placed both paws over his muzzle, preferring the earthy tang of his paws over the bitter taste of his fire concoction or the acrid taste of plastic mixed with the staleness of the burning books.

He watched the fiery tongues lap away the color off the carefully crafted covers, He saw them devour the intricate titles, leaving nothing but charred husks that stubbornly clung to their faltering form.

How ironic, that even inanimate objects resisted transformation. They had one role, one purpose, one goal that they refused to relinquish until their final moments.

It took only a few minutes for this particular transformation to end. The smoldering pile of rubble reflected the stage of depravation Alex hit, the unrecognizable remains of the charred books as ugly and purposeless as he was. At least some of the ash now soared with the wind, carried away into the unknown. There was a certain freedom in death, a blissful finality that allowed even the most tormented of minds to rest. Did Alex have the courage to go through with it? Had he the strength to even stand up to Doran?

He didn't know. Everything stopped making sense the day Doran showed his true colors, the day he turned Alex' world upside down by breaking the fundamental rules of their friendship.

So, in a fit of unrepressed anger, Alex had chosen to surrender control and give in to the other side, to feed Alyreth with the remnants of his sanity, until he'd be no more. Today, he turned things of beauty into something ugly, and tomorrow...

Alex dipped his head, turned around, and strolled into the house, his soul squeezed tight under the weight of tomorrow. He would either wake up a changed person, or not wake up at all. Doran, like always, held the key to Alex' life, and the only thing a pet could do was wait for its master.

And wait he did, right in front of the door, sprawled upon the cold tiles. His thoughts grew distant, and his eyes lost their shimmer, the golden pools dun and barren. He tried focusing on one problem at a time, but thoughts were slippery eels, always flowing through his grasp. Even when he managed to seize one and ponder upon it, it did nothing but disperse into a quagmire of questions to which Alex couldn't possibly have an answer to.

The soft but nonetheless jarring purr of an engine snapped Alex out of his trance.

Doran. He was back!

Alex jumped onto his feet, his tail coiled around a foreleg, heart hammering at his chest in anticipation. Electrifying sparks dashed under his scaled hide, pricking at his scales, urging them to lock tighter against one another as if to protect Alex from the shudders that overtook him.

Nerve, he called it. Nerve was good. Nerve readied it for what was to come. It flowed through him, wild and erratic, his frail body and tattered spirit unable to contain it. The hunger gnawing at his stomach suddenly seemed insignificant. Doubts and fear melted before it, as did every other thought and emotion. In one fell swoop, Alex' nerve worked through all of the pain he harbored; it filled the great void within him with something far greater, a feeling almost alien to him.

Hope.

Hope that crumbled into fine grains of dust the moment Doran twisted the doorknob and made his way inside the house. Somber, aloof, with his ears pinned back and his shoulders drooped and his wings limp, Doran looked, for lack of a better word, defeated.

Alex froze in place, holding a paw in midair, perplexed. He had never seen this vulnerable side of Doran, laid bare before his eyes. Although he shared some of his problems with Alex, he kept most of them inside, and today, something must have snapped within him.

Why? Why today, of all days?!

Doran's gaze found Alex. His smile washed away the gloom etched upon his face like the sun melting away the clouds, and color returned to his bleak gaze.

"Alyreth," he half said, half whispered, as if shocked to find Alex waiting for him. "I thought you...ah, never mind. You must be quite hungry. Let me get out of these clothes and I'll feed you in a moment."

What? No! Alex wasn't hungry! Or well, he was, but that hardly mattered. To stop Doran from delaying things further, Alex leaped in front of him, pawing at his knee, squeaking sharply and flinging his neck upwards, towards the stairway that led to the first floor.

Creases lined Doran's lips for a fraction of a second before they faded into a toothy grin. "Oh, I see how it is. You can't let me undress in peace before you get your daily petting, eh, you rascal?"

Alex pulled back, stretching his wings halfway, ready to disengage from Doran with a well-timed jump.

Too late.

One hand already sank into the luxurious fur of his mane, while the other cupped his chin, claws scratching at the underside of his muzzle. Alex blinked back his disbelief. His body remained stiff, his muscles tense throughout Doran's petting session. That suit looked uncomfortably tight over his body, and his pants strained around the waist as he crouched to nuzzle Alex' cheek.

"Seems I'm not the only one who had a bad day."

Oh, he wouldn't believe! Just wait until--

Alex yelped when Doran's arms wrapped around his neck, pulling his head against his richly perfumed tuxedo.

"I'm here for you. No matter what upset you, I'll make it right by you. Everything will shine in a better light on a full stomach, so let's head over to the kitchen, shall we? This suit needs cleaning anyway, and you cannot say you lived a good life until you see a businessman cooking for you while wearing his gaudy attire."

No, no, no. This was wrong, all wrong! Alex stomped his forepaws, swung his neck around to point up, up, up, but Doran scratched him behind an ear, cupped his face between his palms and slid his tongue along Alex' brow.

"I'll cook you something quick then. There is no arguing with a hungry dragoness."

The warmth that bathed his small, sensitive scales elicited a shudder from Alex. His struggles ceased, more out of shock than anything, which Doran took as the cue to stroll into the kitchen. Meanwhile, Alex ran a paw along the liquid smudge Doran had left upon his brow. Was that supposed to change something? Did Doran delude himself in thinking that mere licks made everything better between them?

"Alyreth, you--you haven't even eaten your breakfast and lunch." Doran strode out of the kitchen, mortified. "You haven't eaten anything."

Those big, haunting eyes instilled perverse satisfaction within Alex. How cute, for Doran to look all concerned all of a sudden! He put on quite a convincing act as well by flattening his ears over his skull and looking this way and that while pattering his claws upon the empty pockets of his pants.

"I'll...get you something else." His voice sounded distant, lost amidst the myriad of worries that swamped his egotistical mind.

Alex wanted to make a show of it by expressing his displeasure with his cooking in quite a nasty manner, but once again, Doran beat him to it. He fished his phone out of the pocket of his coat, pressed the screen twice, then gave a reassuring smile to Alyreth while he paced back and forth.

"You should have told me you are displeased with my cooking or the types of meats that we have available. I'm new to this as well, and I cannot possibly know everything about ferals. Yes, Jim, it's me. I want you to consult a feral dragon nutritional expert and bring me everything they recommend. I mean everything. Make the shipment tonight if you can."

That said, he pocketed his phone, ran a hand over his face and sighed audibly. "Well, it's taken care of. The things I do for my picky dragoness..."

Alex didn't know whether to feel amusement or pity with Doran's rattled poise. How quick he was, to bring out his precious phone, place the order, and have Jim the human pet execute the most ridiculous and menial task of all times! Did he feel empowered, to have everybody under his thumb? Was his concern any truer than the myriad of other lies he had fed Alex over the years?

No matter the case, Alex used this opportunity to coil his tail around Doran's hand, squawk at the stairs, and stomp a forepaw furiously to emphasize the urgency of his request.

"Have something to show me?" Doran's faux, merry voice returned, along with his feigned good disposition. "Can't I undress first?"

Alex snorted and shook his head.

Doran chuckled, dipped his head in approval, and cordially gestured at the stairs.

"Females first. Unlike you, boisterous little thing, I know my manners."

Sure he did. Alex would have given him a whole lecture on manners if he could produce more than squeaks, squawks, meeps, irps, yips, growls and roars. For the time being, he resorted to climbing the steps one at a time with Doran in tow. His paws became more sluggish and strenuous, his chest tighter, and his breath heavier the closer they got to that appalling room, where Alex would discover his fate.

Doran's chuckle disarmed him. He jerked his tail free, doing his best to keep his wings folded tightly to his back and his gaze away from his.

_If I look at him, I'll falter. If I look back, I'm lost,_he kept telling himself, steeling his resolve for the impending outcome to his predicament.

"Are you that obvious, Alyreth? You could have at least been sneakier with this revelation, but I suppose us dragons are straightforward with the ones we live with."

Icy claws strangled Alex' heart. He stopped in his tracks, an eerie sensation slithering along his spine. He had never felt such cold, overpowering dread, or such debilitating shame upon finding out that his plans had been foiled.

Doran ruffled Alex' mane, turning around to fondle both of his ears and give him a furtive grin. "Don't worry. I won't be mad at you. The only one I'm angry with is myself for being clumsy in the way I treat you. But this..." he pointed at a foot stamp on the stair, the mud flaked and hardened. "Is quite an effective way to protest."

He clasped his hands together and motioned Alex forward. "You first. You're the one who rampaged through my room, wiping your grimy paws all over my sheets. I won't change them, you know. I'll keep them as a token of your undying love for my cooking skills."

Alex stifled a whimper that clawed its way to the surface against his will. He swallowed hard, flicked his tongue over his muzzle, and kept going in spite of the increasing feebleness of his limbs. Once they crested the staircase and found themselves in the corridor that led to Doran's room, Alex felt like floating rather than walking, a spirit trapped between the two realms of past and present.

Doran never truly laughed. He had never expressed his emotions freely, the way he did now. The mote of Alex the human that still occupied the darkened corners of his mind swelled with pride at seeing his friend in such good disposition, whereas the overpowering void within him battered Alex' frame with cold shivers, each meant to snap him out of his delusional trance.

Doran wasn't happy. Doran faked everything. It was all a ruse meant to tighten the proverbial collar around Alex' neck, to make him feel safe, like prey ready to be delivered into the jaws of his spiritual death.

Alex clung to this mantra, repeating it in his mind, willing himself to believe the unidimensional nature of Doran. That made it easy to lead him into his room, and allowed Alex to casually point his snout at the computer, flicking his tail tip nervously while Doran fumbled through the room, looking this way and that, running his hands over his clean bed, even going as far as to look under it.

"Awwwrrrrr," Alex expressed his growly displeasure, tapping a claw against the computer's case, the metallic ring eliciting a stifled groan from Doran.

"What? Can't I discover your mischief on my own? Isn't that the point of a prank, for me to find out what it is about?"

Then, he eyed his mud caked seat, the epiphany bringing an elegant smirk to his smooth, draconic features. "That is cruel, even for you. At least you didn't puncture and tear the leather. I suppose I should be grateful for this."

Alex rammed his head into the hand inspecting the seat, snarling. This wasn't a game! Alex' life was on the line, and Doran did nothing but revert to a giggly child. Already past the point of exasperation, Alex turned on the computer himself, jumped into the seat, whipped his tail over Doran's wrist to keep him away from the touchpad, and opened the newly created document.

His guts lurched when the text filled his vision, and he jumped out of the chair to slink into the darkest corner of the room, where he curled into a ball of anxiety.

Doran didn't sit. He remained up, leaning forward a little, his wings twitching and flexing, the dark grey membranes shuddering every now and then. His gaze met Alex' eyes for a short but intense moment, during which Alex had to clamp his vaginal muscles to keep from pissing himself. He clawed at the floor, drawing increasingly longer rakes across the lacquered parquet. Doran's huddled posture left him cold. His stiffness mirrored Alex', and a perverse guilt welled within him, so intense Alex felt his stomach roil and lurch.

"I...see..." was all that Doran said. He remained on his feet for a while, still as a statue. Eventually, he sank onto his chair, clutching the armrests as if to steady himself against the brunt of that shocking revelation.

For some befuddling reason, Alex' left wing unfurled, covering Doran's slouched posture. Alex tucked it back where it belonged, but even without it, he found it impossible to look at Doran's haunted expression, at his wan eyes, trembling wings and shuddering hands for more than a second.

Look at him. Look at him! Fuck decency! He had shown you none! That hollow part of Alex, filled with hopelessness, screamed at him. It urged him to take pleasure from someone else's sorrow. It tempted him to dig the dagger deeper into Doran's blackened heart, sink it down to the handle, then twist it.

Alex found it hard to resist its allure. The mighty master no longer looked such, with his drooping shoulders and face buried deep into those frail, shaking hands. Was he crying? No, no, no. That was pathetic, and it made Alex feel ashamed for being intimidated by such false pretender. How could he be Alex' master, when he couldn't even keep his own emotions in check?

Alex skulked around the edges of the room, approaching Doran from the side. He released a soft growl to get his attention, and Doran's head spun to face him, the slitted pupils wide, the corners of his eyes dry.

A pity. He should have cried if he wanted to keep the ruse believable.

"Alyreth....."

Doran's voice immediately faded into the thundering heartbeats of Alex' heart. The pounding of his temples rattled him to the very core of his being, and his legs threatened to crumble under the burden of this useless, scaled husk.

Alyreth, he called him. Alyreth? Alyreth?! He tore out his bleeding heart and laid it right before Doran, and yet, he still had the audacity to call him by that fake, idiotic name that meant nothing to Alex?!

Whatever pity Alex still harbored for Doran now soured into unbridled hate targeted at the one who, when faced with a heartfelt plea, chose to keep this cruel joke going. What more could he do? What would it take to make Doran understand?

_Nothing,_Alex realized as cold dismay settled over him like an ethereal shawl. There was sadness within Doran's eyes; sorrow mingled with regret.

But it wasn't directed at Alex. Never for Alex. Doran, when faced with the overwhelming truth of Alex' emotions, anguished over his own failures. Once again, it was all about him trying to understand his own mistakes instead of doing something for others! Even now, he cared more about his precious ego instead of showing Alex, just this once, that he still remembered who his best friend used to be.

That he loved Alex the human, and not Alyreth the pet.

"Alyreth, what I want you to know is that..."

His words faded into the patter of Alex' claws upon the naked parquet as he clambered down the stairs in his rush to put as much distance between him and Doran as possible. His heart sank at the closed door blocking his escape, only to skip a beat when he spotted an opened window. He leaped through it, landed clumsily on the grassy surface sprawling outside, and broke into a dash. His wings augmented his speed with snappy beatings, the lift they generated carrying Alex a few feet into the air. Panicked squeaks broke the silence of the night, his speed too great for a dragoness whose mind swirled under the weight of Doran's words.

It didn't take long for his paws to tangle into one another and for Alex to crash chest-first onto the ground. He skidded along the grass, his claws tearing furrows into the ground, his wings pulling upwards to avoid damage done to those sensitive, skeletal frames.

Once his momentum faltered, Alex' breath came out in one gruff cough, mixed with dry retching. Pain didn't even register yet, the shock still in full magnitude. It twisted Alex' insides, gnawing at them, making his head spin faster and faster.

I'm going to die. I'll have to die. It's over. No other way. I lost. I lost. I lost...

What made everything worse was that Alex had never imagined himself losing. The possibility was there, and he entertained it during his moments of stinging depression, but now that he came face to face with it, everything around him crumbled. It began with his sanity, and now it was his body's turn to unravel.

Alex forced back the bile gathering at the back of his throat. Despite his nausea, he still had fight within him, and he used the last of his verve to stifle the whirlwind that engulfed his mind.

Deep breaths. It was all about regulating his breath. Instead of panting, he breathed in through his flared nostrils, then exhaled through his open maw. A few minutes later, his sickness subsided and his bruises throbbed to life. Mere soreness, compared to what his human body would have endured.

Hello pain, my old friend, Alex thought, relishing those distracting pulses running under his hide, converging upon his chest, forelegs and the upper area of his haunches. He must have torn a few scales, but in the grand scheme of things, that hardly mattered.

He fought. He lost. Tomorrow, he would embrace the eternal rest.

Only...he still didn't know how to do it. How ironic, for him to desire death but know not the means to get there. Perhaps he should fly higher and higher, until his lungs burned, and then crash on top of a jagged cliff. Maybe head into the nearby town, bite off a few limbs and get shot.

Yes. That seemed like a more plausible way to go. Scales, no matter how sturdy, wouldn't stop a speeding bullet.

Alex collected his sprawled limbs under his belly. He pushed himself up on his shaky limbs, wincing and yelping from the searing lashes that whipped at his legs, and trudged a few feet away from the gashes his body tore into the ground to settle on the cool, dry grass. An eerie feeling of serenity engulfed him. It took away his pain, his inner suffering, leaving him strangely content with the outcome of today.

At that moment, Alex realized the roots of his agony.

Uncertainty.

His hopes festered day by day, moment by long, anguishing moment. Every time he dared to hope, something--someone--proved him the futility of it. Now, at least, for the first time in his life, Alex held control over the reins of his destiny. He was the one who would take this decision, not Doran. That, in its own macabre way, made Alex feel more fulfilled than any second spent in this submissive, damnable husk called Alyreth.

The sound of beating wings roused Alex' attention. He perked his head, scrunching his muzzle into a snarl at the anthro dragon who alighted in front of him.

Doran. Here to spew fortifying platitudes about what Alyreth meant to him and how much he loved her. He even tucked his precious suit away, choosing to come to this meeting bare chested, wearing only a pair of breezy brown shorts. First, he looked at the dark brown furrows drawn upon his immaculate lawn. Then, he eyed Alex.

I'm sorry for damaging your property, Alex would have said if he could. Instead, he merely snorted in disdain.

"Any bothersome wounds?"

Alex shook his head.

"Good. It means I can speak my thoughts without taking you inside and clean your scrapes and bruises."

A thin growl began to simmer within Alex' throat, but Doran held up a hand to silence him. Instinctively, Alex obeyed it. Apparently, subservience ran deeper within him than he expected.

"Jim is going to arrive in an hour and thirty-five minutes according to my calculations and his estimation. We will get into his truck, and on our way to the plane I will make the necessary arrangements for the reversal of your transformation. Or, if you'll have it, the transformation into an anthro dragoness. Whatever is it you want."

Alex' mind locked. His guts clenched, and his heart lodged into his throat. He remained silent, frozen in time, until his lungs threatened to burst with the breath he forgot to expel. It came out in a drawn-out, relieving sigh, one that shook every scale on Alex' body. Suddenly, his back straightened, and his limbs pulled tighter to his side as Doran approached him.

He pointed a claw-tipped finger at the patch of grass next to Alex. "May I sit?"

Doran did more than just sit. As soon as his arse found purchase upon the ground, he grabbed Alex' head and gently guided it towards his chest, the back and forth caress upon his neck too surprising for Alex to resist it. Besides, the crash drained the last of his strength, rendering Alex unable to stand up to Doran.

Which, considering his words, seemed like a foolish thing to do.

His first success emboldened him. He gently eased Alex' head down, so that he could shift onto his side and drape a wing over Alex' coiled form. One of his hands tousled Alex' chin fluff, while the other massaged his shoulders, his azure eyes meeting Alex' golden ones.

"I never wanted to harm you. I care about you, Alex, certainly more than I tend to admit. I..." he looked away, shame rippling within those shimmering azure pools. Just like Alex, Doran couldn't bear facing him, so he simply spoke with soft, suave words. "I often find trouble in expressing my thoughts and emotions clearly. Against my very will, I marginalized you, hurt you, and brought you to the brink of...I'm sorry," he rushed his words. "I'm sorry for everything."

It seemed like such a cliché thing to say, a cop-out meant to bury this matter before it melted the icy thorns wrapped around Doran's heart. And still, these overly simple words hit Alex like a sledge hammer, summoning forth an electrifying jolt that made every fiber in Alex' body tense up and shudder. He heaved silently, his chest suddenly tight, his heart swollen with feelings he thought he had long buried.

Now, at his greatest moment of weakness, they flooded his being, sweeping over him like a cleansing tide that washed away the darkness of his soul, leaving it pure and immaculate and, above all, brimming with honesty.

Doran wasn't lying. He spoke from the heart. In his stiff, awkward way, he expressed his heartfelt regret for his ignorance, a feat that melted away Alex' stubbornness and urged him to let loose the tears he had contained for far too long.

He crawled over Doran, tucked his head under his jaw, face pressed against the downy scales lining his neck. Engulfed by peaceful darkness, Alex' tears streamed along his cheeks, his paws holding onto Doran tightly.

"I never wanted this," Doran murmured with a frail, trembling voice. "We deserved better. You...deserved better."

And with that, he snapped as well. For all his fabled self-control and imposing demeanor, Doran whimpered like a hatchling, cradling Alex against him, nuzzling his muzzle and licking idly at his flicking ears.

Alex didn't remember crying so hard as he did now, locked between Doran's rocking arms, his face pressed against smooth, soothing scales. His malice, apathy and anger flowed out of him in the form of slithering crystalline droplets, his gasps cathartic, his stifled growls liberating. Too long had he carried this burden with him. Now, it was time to finally let go.

When his shudders began to wane, a wry smile tugged at Alex' lips, brought along by a silly, almost absurd and shameful revelation.

Courage and honesty. That was all it took to bridge the rift between him and Doran. If he didn't wallow in his own despair, if he had the audacity to confront Doran with eloquent reasoning...

Alex banished that sour thought away. What happened, happened, regardless of who was at fault. Doran must have shared the same philosophy, for he unfurled his wings along the ground and guided Alex' head onto his chest, thrusting his muzzle towards the sky. He didn't bother wiping his tears; his damp scales reflected the truthfulness of his words, and tonight, he wore them proudly.

"I drowned in the dream I had, Alex. I saw nothing but the sky. I heard nothing but your musical squeaks and growls. I felt nothing but your warmth pressed against me. I strived so hard to make my dream a reality, when my reality was already a beautiful dream worth living." He tilted his head to bump his snout against Alex', the dragoness sniffling and snapping at that.

Doran merely chuckled. "I always had you at my side, Alex. Regardless of your form, you're still the only person who sees me--the whole me--and living with a person such as you is a fantasy in itself for me."

Alex remained silent. No words could accurately describe the whirlwind of emotions rampaging through his mind. He felt startled, optimistic, hopeful, proud, awed, shocked and anxious, all at the same time. He could barely muster the strength to lift his head off Doran's chest, let alone convey the right message through the appropriate draconic sound or gesture.

There was, however, something that he wanted--needed to do. Something that chilled him and warmed him at the same time. With a single claw, he traced letters into the ground. Shaky, uneven, but still visible to Doran. His task complete, Alex jumped from Doran's lap and settled onto his haunches in front of that word, his paws shaking, his tail swishing anxiously along the grass.

Doran pushed himself up in a slow, deliberate manner, trying to buy a few moments to ease his apprehension. That only served to stoke Alex' faltering conviction. After all, it brought him strange fulfillment, for him to be the one playing Doran.

"Aly--" the letters stuck into Doran's throat. He looked at Alex, then at the word, then back at Alex, only to return to that word once again. His lips began to twitch, rearranging into an ecstatic and slightly guilty grin. He shook his head, running a palm along his skull and between his horns.

"Alex, you really don't have to--"

A pained cough replaced his words when Alex shot forward, ramming his head straight into Doran's belly, sending him crashing onto the ground. The advantage of his height eliminated, Alex pounced on him, shoving his paws onto his shoulders and hissing right in his face.

"Fine, fine. Alyreth. I'll call you Alyreth. Just don't bite my face off. Regrowing muzzles isn't part of the transformation package."

Alex snorted triumphantly, letting go of Doran so he could circle that name and come to terms with its implications.

Alyreth. A dragon's name, proud and resonant. It had a certain allure to it, one that began creeping into Alex' mind and heart.

"Alyreth," Doran said as well, kneeling besides Alex to lay an arm over his serpentine neck. "I am so proud of who you are, of what you became."

While he waited for his words to sink in, Doran's hand hovered over to Alyreth's wing joints, cupping them in his palms, sliding the tips of his fingers over that particularly sensitive area.

Alyreth eased herself onto her haunches, lest her legs buckled from that too intense pleasure coursing through her. Doran knew which parts of a dragon to touch and how to touch them, being extra careful with his strokes of Alyreth's velvety wing membranes.

Alex had imagined this moment to be more unique and spectacular. After all, he willingly transitioned into a life that he used to loathe not too long ago. It used to be a lonely and desolate one, full of distrust and self-depreciation.

Not anymore. With the bond between him and Doran reinforced, his dream--their dream--no longer felt like a distant milestone, but something that lay within their reach. All that Alex had to do was let go of the past and embrace the present.

Let go of Alex, and accept Alyreth.

It came easier to Alex than he expected. Alyreth, as a free spirit, lacked Alex' emotional burden. She took great pleasure in living in the moment, and so, she rolled onto her side, batting her paws playfully at Doran and squeaking gleefully.

Doran's hands immediately found her belly, giving her hefty rubs that flared her gentle song to a higher pitch.

"That's what you want, eh, you little rascal?"

Close enough. Unbeknownst to Doran, the fondling of Alyreth's wings did more than stir her playful side. It awoke a primal craving within her, a need that she did her best to quench with the tools she had at her disposal.

Now, she had Doran to do it for her. A living, breathing dragon, instead of an inanimate object.

Alyreth's purr increased in intensity. Her haunch shifted slightly to the side, her tail splaying along the emerald grass bedding, uncovering her femininity before Doran's inquisitive eyes. This wasn't a mere display. No. It was more than that.

An invitation.

Doran could see the truth of it in Alyreth's eyes, smoldering with a wild crave specific to a feral dragoness. He could see it in her posture, sprawled along the ground in a relaxed yet tense sort of way, the anticipation of his answer keeping her on the edge.

Doran's confidence and eagerness bloomed as he looked upon her lean frame, so majestic and vulnerable at the same time. She might have been confused about who she was before scrawling her name on the ground, and he--he had been nothing but blind to her inner turmoil, too caught up in his idealism to notice her struggles.

Right now, in spite of everything that had happened, Alyreth chose to relinquish her worries and simply presented herself to him as a dragoness in need of utmost proof of affection, without fears of reservations. That made her infinitely more beautiful in Doran's eyes, and his dragonhood stirred as well, dribbles of precum leaking past his tip, invisible to Alyreth's distracted, dreamy gaze.

Alyreth growled playfully, rolling onto her back, pushing a hind paw straight into Doran's face as the dragon flowed over her dainty form, nuzzling at one of her aloft hind paws and grabbing the other with a hand to rub her supple toes. Alyreth's haunches spread further to the sides from his pleasant massage, and Doran couldn't help himself from stealing a glance of her inviting lips. His hands drifted over her haunches, claw tips dragging along the small, pebbly scales, every inch they covered making Alyreth's breath shudder and hitch in her throat occasionally. Her toes flexed under the delicate caress upon her inner haunches, fanning out to the sides in pent-up ecstasy. She must have yearned for the touch of another dragon for quite a while, for her whole frame stiffened, and her wings splayed across the grassy bed to expose their smooth, vulnerable membranes.

Watching a dragoness expose her belly to him sent warm tingles through Doran's limbs. Most feral males in his position would have had eyes for her drenched and ready slit only, coated with copious amounts of female arousal, the puffy lips standing out amidst her dark scales. Doran, however, found his gaze drifting towards her eyes, so warm and full of unbridled passion.

After he rolled his hands down to the base of her haunches, Doran slithered his way up to her head, nuzzling her brow and neck, humming at her lightly as he dabbed his tongue at her snout.

"You're quite a temptress, Alyreth. But is this truly what you want?"

Her forepaw slid over his snout, her rumbling growl and bared fangs enough of an answer for Doran to continue his lewd ministrations.

Doran teased her with a dash of his tongue across her snout. When the dragoness leaned her head back and purred suggestively, he continued along her neck, lathering her scales with a layer of liquid affection that the dragoness relished a great deal.

"Mrrr," Alyreth purred, her eyes closed while she basked in his pleasant treatment. One of her hind paws slid between his legs, testing the level of Doran's excitement.

Doran's cheeks burned with a fierce blush when Alyreth's hind toes found him overly eager. She chose to simply test his package with light dabs, her eyes twinkling with playfulness.

A sheepish smirk settled over Doran's features. He churned with the urge to ask her why. Why would she desire him? Moments ago, she gave him an ultimatum. Now, she seemed perfectly content with exposing this playful, intimate side of her to him.

Rather than dwell on that matter, Doran's snout continued its meandering path along her body, his tongue leaving no patch of scales untouched. For an already moist and horny female, that proved almost too much, her toes curling inwards every time a shudder heralded her want for relief.

Once he reached her hindquarters, Doran pinned her tail down with his own, shifted onto his knees to free his hands, and grasped her left hind paw with one hand, allowing his digits to slide between her toes so that their paws locked together. Then, he slowly dragged it to the side while he ran his tongue down her inner thigh, inching closer and closer towards her exposed slit.

Alyreth's frame tensed, her tail tip twitching with impatience, her wriggling toes mirroring it. With his senses dulled from the intoxicating scent of a dragoness in need, Doran felt unusually brave, enough to blow a puff of warm air upon her slit before switching to the other haunch. His free hand caressed her taut muscle, groping at it gently, the pressure of claws pricking at her hide eliciting weak growls from Alyreth.

Doran's own hum of satisfaction vibrated within his throat. He was pleased with her reactions, and he enjoyed taking things slow, until her snort of irritation urged him to perk up his head.

"Grarr," Alyreth made her eagerness known. Her hind paw clamped down upon his fingers and knuckles, squeezing him hard enough to get her point across.

"That is one side of me you will have to get used to," Doran added, offering her a meek smile as he teased her wiggling toes with a nuzzle. A few licks over them got Alyreth purring. The nibble that followed drew a surprised gasp from her, the dragoness hardly expecting Doran's teeth to pay that level of attention to her toes. She pulled her paw back, but Doran's snout followed suit, licking away her apparent discomfort.

"Mrrraah," she complained about his doings, even though her huffs of desire suggested otherwise. Alyreth's hind paw latched around his left horn, guiding him towards her slit.

Doran threw her a provocative glance and began dragging his snout along her belly, massaging her sides with his hands. When he reached her sex, Doran slowed down with his licks, circling her slit with his snout, and only poking his tongue out to taste the honey off the wet scales surrounding her crevice.

His ploy worked. The mere thought of that tongue advancing upon her exposed lips made Alyreth's breath grow labored and her ears flatten along her skull in anticipation.

Her reaction fueled Doran's conviction to give Alyreth a memorable experience. He rounded her slit with short, careful tongue strokes, slurping away the arousal that leaked from her puffy vent in tiny rivulets. Thin yet slimy, it bore a smooth, earthy fragrance, its taste stirring Doran's blood, making him crave for more of that delicious female nectar.

Foreplay all but forgotten in the wake of his male instinct, Doran sought to clench his thirst by dipping his snout into Alyreth's heated folds, taking a deep whiff laden with her scent, then slurping the nectar off her shuddering lips, releasing a feral growl as he pulled back, staring at Alyreth while her aqueous juices dribbled down his snout.

"Rraaarrr," Alyreth growled back at him, swatting his thigh with her tail, her hinds clenching around his hand and horn, her grip as demanding as her need for relief.

Her willingness to put herself in his hands in such intimate way struck a chord with Doran, who towered above her splayed body, her slit at the mercy of his snout. Although he tried taking deep breaths to suppress that wild side of him and calm down his racing heart, the aftertaste of her juices lingered upon his tongue, fettering his senses, urging his snout lower, lower, right upon those dainty lips.

Doran kissed them briefly, unable to contain his urge to nibble on them ever so softly. Alyreth loosened a sharp trill from this unexpected turn of events, the pressure exerted upon her already swollen folds so blissful to the dragoness that her toes stretched briefly, only to clamp down upon his the hand locked with her toes once again.

"Hrrrrrr," her sensuous purr emboldened him, shudders rippling through her haunches and slit.

Doran gave her no moment of respite, lapping away at her folds with broad, sweeping strokes of his tongue. He didn't pierce her yet, intent on slurping every single droplet of arousal off her lower belly and lips before resting his snout upon her vent, inhaling her exquisite aroma, then exhaling warm puffs of air upon her lips, making Alyreth giddy with excitement.

She licked her snout in anticipation, swiping away some of the nervousness that began to gather within her. She had probably pondered on this moment multiple times, playing it over in her head, wondering how Doran's tongue or member would feel inside her, quite a taboo thought for a human turned feral dragoness.

Now, she had the chance to find out.

After taking a deep breath, Doran parted her heated, trembling folds with his long tongue. Thinner at the tip and thicker towards the middle, his flexible appendage put an end to Alyreth's purr, replacing it with a thinning growl that grew in intensity the deeper he sank into her nether depths. Her muscles tightened around him, pulling him in with those rhythmical throbs, Alyreth's shuddering moans, swaying hips and clenching toes only serving to emphasize her need.

More of Doran's tongue followed, his thicker half disappearing into the moist, fleshy vent. His girth rolled over Alyreth's lips, shattering her moan into a deepening growl.

Christ, but was she sensitive!

Doran swirled his tongue inside her, collecting as much of her sweet juices off those smooth, muscular walls as possible before retreating to swallow and rub her lips with the soft surface of his snout to keep her on the edge.

"Grr hrr mrrr," Alyreth's alternating growls of various intensities broke through the panting breaths she took.

"You like it, don't you?" Doran said, an elegant smirk etched upon his face as his hand clenched around her hind paw. The firm touch of paw upon hand added to Alyreth's pleasure, her toes stretching and curling inwards constantly, emphasizing her impatience at getting off from Doran's tongue.

He pressed his snout tighter against her slit, squeezing those swollen lips, the texture of his snout flaring Alyreth's pleasure. Her tail wrapped around one of his hind legs, squeezing at him persistently, just like the muscles of her vent did.

His tongue slipped into her once again, brushing against her slit, then delving into her trembling passage, all too eager to receive something tight, muscular and flexible within its sensitive confines. Doran kept his tongue rigid while stretching her, getting Alyreth accustomed to his thickness, allowing her to mold around him before twisting his tongue tip this way and that to further spread her apart.

Rather than pulling out of her, Doran remained inside, advancing upon her cervix bit by bit. The deeper his tongue slithered, the tighter Alyreth became, and the louder her growls, hisses and moans grew. The spasms rushing through her insides picked up in intensity as well, drenching Doran with fresh waves of arousal. With extra lubrication to ease his passage, he had no trouble pushing most of his tongue inside Alyreth, teasing that tight ring of flesh with the swirling tip of his tongue over and over again, her moaning growls music to his ears.

Pushed so close to her orgasm, Alyreth sought to augment her bliss by thrusting her hips against Doran's snout. His tongue twisted and turned inside of her, stimulating her past the point of no return while his tongue tip relentlessly rammed at her tight cervix, one of the most sensitive regions that a long, serpentine tongue like his could tease.

Alyreth's response was immediate. Her hips shoved hard against his snout, her slit slamming upon his sensitive nostrils, making Doran snort and push his tongue deeper inside Alyreth. That triggered the unrelenting clenches of her tightening depths, the flowing motion meant to suckle the seed out of a male's member. And she had such a strong grip! Almost as hard as the pressure her toes exerted upon his hand when they curled inwards from the too demanding pleasure flooding Alyreth's body.

After she fluttered her wings a few times and rolled from side to side, Alyreth's frame fell limp, her eyes scrunched tight as her roar burst out of the depths of her chest. Shudders marred its rich tone, and it quickly faltered into whimpering moans as strength fled from Alyreth's frame in the form of thin rivulets of savory female cum.

Her shuddering insides splashed them against Doran's snout with unrelenting spurts, each richer than the last. He flinched as they splattered all over his face, some of it sneaking its way into his nostrils, filling them with the most pleasant scent Doran ever inhaled.

Once her tremors died down and her walls loosened enough around Doran to retreat his tongue, he began slurping her excess juices, lapping at her folds with an eagerness that surprised even himself. He felt like a hatchling who pleasured his first female, so addicted to her nectar that he had to drink in every drop.

"Mrrarrr," Alyreth growled playfully, bumping Doran's slick snout with the tip of a hind toe.

Doran gave it a brief lick, then retreated a few steps from Alyreth's slit, staggering onto his fours from the intoxicating haze of bliss that weighed upon his mind. Mate her. That was what he wanted the most. To mate the female whose scent and taste filled his mouth and nostrils.

Doran found it hard to push back that burning desire. As a dragon, his needs became more pressing, more urgent, and Alyreth still looked upon him with a dreamy, mesmerizing gaze. That was why he couldn't mate her--why he shouldn't turn this magical moment into a selfish one. This token of affection was meant for her and her only, and Doran found it incredibly satisfying to simply lay down next to her, drag her head over his chest, and look at the clouds drift along the starlit sky in the company of his best friend and lover.

** ***End of book*****

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