FSE

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The wind sighed with pity into Asier's drooped ears, as if the dunes themselves understood his mission. The sigh could have been a relentless gale pushing him back towards home, forcing him to fight for every step. It wasn't. It was the soft caress of someone who understood.

Asier was glad for that. He wasn't sure if he would have been able to keep walking otherwise. The feral dragon with darkly tanned scales barely contained enough energy to force himself to drag one dusty brown paw in front of the other. Seven days ago he had decided - his death would be at the rumored Grove of Orchids. It was the location he had decided, not the decision of ending his life. That had been decided a while ago.

He ruffled his leathery auburn-brown wings, sand falling around him in a small shower. He knew he looked terrible. His hardened belly plates were so dusty, so you couldn't even see one scale from the other. His black horns and claws less brilliant obsidian and more a dusty grey. His tail dragged, his tail spade leaving a big, flat wake on the sand behind him.

The decision to end his life hadn't been a sudden decision, like, say, waking up and wanting to visit a new town. Or learn a new skill. Or disappoint his family in some new way. No, that decision was a slow growth, like the creeping of vines over a solid wall, starting small and innocuous. But without pruning and without care, the vines grew. They stained the wall with sharp thorns and a verdant splash of green until the wall was unrecognizable and less a wall, less a dragon, and more something else. A harsh mess, a wildness that couldn't be pruned now that it was too late. And then the vines started to squeeze, slow at first and then relentless, the weak spots crumbling under the pressure, until even the most solid stones began to crack.

That was Asier. The walls he had built around himself to keep himself safe in the harsh desert life of Arradun had been his salvation and his devastation.

There hadn't been a wall in the beginning. In the beginning there had been a family. A sister, Nera. So light tan she was almost white, gifted in song with a smile you couldn't help but smile back at. Her success at the university was a constant source of family pride. There was his father, Carran. Brown-black, and understanding to the point of infuriation. Asier could've handled anger. He couldn't handle the constant, pitying look behind his father's eyes, the unspoken words of disappointment. And then there was his mother and her coffee-and-cream scales.

Mala, he had called her as far back as he could remember, ever since there was still egg shell sticking to his hide. A combination of mommy and Manaria, her real name. He had talked to her a bit in the beginning. When failure was a new thing, when it meant coming home after ruining his chances at the university. Banned. The pranks of youth had turned into the very real punishment of adulthood. She had kindled the flame of hope of still being able to do something with his life. It was her idea that he join his father, Carran, in his wood-hauling business.

Wood-hauling was a laborious task. Camels and men were better suited to dragging the dead trees across the desert from far off green places. Dragons were only required for the wealthy buyers. The ones who needed the wood now and were willing to pay for it. Emergency repairs for a caravan, or perhaps a for a wedding tent pole with the bride clearly egg-heavy.

Asier had been okay at it, at first. A few days of literally learning the ropes. Their first job. The thrill of keeping a fast pace with his father, massaging his sore wing muscles every night. It was almost fun.

The woods had been euphoric; more green than he had ever seen in his entire life. The merchants had told him wild stories, stories of flowers that grew larger than a dragon and wings that spoke words, of water that fell from cliffs year-round and birds that flew in numbers so great they blotted out the sun with all the colors of the rainbow. And more than stories, there were the herbs. They had many. Their fragrance made his eyes water when he leaned down to sniff them, his nostrils flaring before the merchant snatched his hand back. The merchant had promised him these would make him fly faster, harder, longer and make him his money back ten-fold. He had accepted the stories for free and paid for the herbs with all the coin he had on him.

The first night he had outpaced his father. Carran had been worried, talking about reserving his strength, especially while hauling burdens of wood. Asier hadn't listened. The university had been awful. This was life! Life was the feel and satisfaction of physical labor, of seeing new places, and being in his family's business.

The second night, the shivers had started.

The third, he was too weak to move.

His father had stayed with him. They burned the wood to keep him warm at night in the cold dark of the uncaring desert nights. Carran flew for miles to bring back single sips of water for his son. Never once an "I told you so," or a harsh word. Not once. Just endless and unbearable understanding that made the guilt so much worse.

After four nights they had burned through all of their wood and Asier was strong enough to fly at a feeble pace. When they returned to Arradun empty-pawed they lost the contract, of course.

Carran had never missed a delivery before. The merchants placed the blame squarely on Asier's shoulders, despite his father's best attempts to convince them otherwise. Asier would never fly under contract for them again, they said. Who's to say he wasn't addicted to that herb, would do it again? He wasn't, Asier pleaded; he wouldn't.

No. Their answer, unyielding.

Fine. He didn't care. Another stone for his wall. He didn't like hauling wood like a flying cow anyways. Asier would never forget the look behind his father's eyes when he had said that. The quick look away, the embarrassed shuffle of his wings as Asier stormed off. The vines grew.

Asier had tried other jobs, other talents. Other drugs. Failures, all of them. He became a burden and he knew it. He had the appetite of an adult drake, and he ate more than he contributed. When he despaired he sought relief, and relief got him high and into trouble.

That's when he had heard of the Grove of Orchids.

"The Grove of Orchids, he called it. The Grove of Death," his only friend, Terrak, had said. "Evil plant spirits that devoured all life. Camels. Men. Dragons."

"There's no such thing," the blurry-eyed Asier had responded. He was numb. The numbness helped him forget, for a night.

"I heard it from a caravan. Silk traders from the south. They thought it was an oasis. Palm trees and paradise in the middle of a desert."

"Spoiled milk tales. My father has never seen such a thing. He would have told me." His father. Stupid Terrak, making him think of his father. He pinned his ears and snorted. "Paradise doesn't exist."

"A paradise of death..." Terrak was enraptured. "When they stopped, the vines came. Great mouths of teeth that ripped their caravan apart. Whenever they cut down one vine a hundred more would appear. The trader I talked to was the only one that got out."

Asier rolled over and looked up at the night sky, the brilliant stars shining down in their contemptuous beauty. "And where was this magical vine grove?"

"South. Not straight south, or other traders would have seen it. That guy thinks they were lost. A bit off course to the west. So, east, coming from the other direction. Took him fourteen days to walk here. He ate the leather from his sandals, sucked the blood from snakes to survive," Terrak said, in awe of the merchant's tale.

Asier had brooded and said nothing for a time. Just tales traders tell themselves when they drink. But if it was true, it was all he had ever wanted. A way out. A good excuse. The decision came easily.

"Terrak... tell my family, I... I'm sorry. I'm sorry I let them down."

Terrak had looked at him, his green eyes just as blurry and unfocused. "They know, Asier. They know..."

That was thirteen nights ago. Fierce winds had forced him to walk this far, only letting up today. The merchant had told him more or less the same thing Terrak had when Asier had hunted him down. He had been easy to find. The man was drunk more oft than not since arriving in town.

Asier had stolen what he needed. Not from Terrak's family or his own, of course. He would've felt bad about stealing, again, but this was the last time. Seven Spirits, if he had just told them what he planned, they probably would have given him the water skins and wished him well on his journey south.

The thirteenth day had been the hardest. But today, he would find the grove.

Turn back, a tiny voice screamed. Live. Live another day. You'll find something. Anything.

No, the larger voice said, calmly. Reassuringly. We've tried that. Don't be a burden on your family any longer. Find the Grove of Orchids and let something else end it. Die. Coward. You can't kill yourself, so now at least you've found someone else will do it for you. At least your body will feed the oasis.

Asier dragged another paw forward, his tongue lolling out the side of his muzzle. If the grove wasn't real he'd die of thirst first. He had only brought enough for fourteen days. He couldn't turn around even if he had wanted to. This was no-dragons land. No maps. The dunes shifted and moved every week like great snakes buried beneath the sand, rising and falling and continuously changing their shape until there were no recognizable landmarks. Even the most experienced caravans occasionally got lost to the apathetic ruthlessness of the desert.

He grunted. His tan-brown belly plates were coated with the weeks of sandy, sweaty grime. His brown wings hung from his sides, wing tip dragging across the ground as he crested yet another dune. He blinked into the stinging sand; the winds had been much friendlier on the leeward side. Go away, the winds whined to him now at the top. Not this dune. Go back, go back, go back.

Asier squinted. There was green. His heart jumped into his throat, nearly choking him. A mirage? He blinked again and shook his great head, tossing his black horns back and forth. A mirage or not, it was something. He licked his muzzle and put his head down to plow forward, putting his shoulder against the howling wind. Turn back! the wind cried. He ignored it.

As thin as a blade of grass, the splotch of green slowly grew in his vision. The dunes became smaller, each one he crested giving him a better view of the small patch of paradise, until the sand slowly flattened. The green grew into an island of dense foliage at least fifty dragon lengths across, completely covered with leafy bushes he didn't recognize. Further into the oasis palm trees swayed in the wind, and the sound of water made him lick his snout.

No birds chirped and hopped among the bushes. The only sounds were the trickle of water and the soft rustle of leaves. He could see no footprints or wreckage from a lost caravan. Maybe this wasn't the same oasis. But that was a silly thought; an oasis was rare enough, and the directions had been spot on. This was it. The Grove of the Orchids. The wind had died down again, no longer pushing him away.

"Hello?" He said out loud. Well, that felt stupid. He stretched his neck upwards, peering over the bushes to try and see past the dense foliage. He could see nothing except the tops of the palm trees, which were alarmingly tall, as if they grew in fear of what lay beneath them. A short hop into the air confirmed his fears; the foliage was so dense that if he tried to fly in, there'd be nowhere to land. He'd have to walk a little bit further.

He shook off his empty water sacks and what remained of his pouches of food, relieving himself prior to entering. It felt like a ritual. Maybe he would get a chance to bathe before he found... whatever it was. Asier didn't believe in magical vines, but he did believe in traps in the desert and in a paradise laced with poison. He'd have a drink, give himself up, and that'd be that. No crying or final words or other ceremony. It felt good. He stepped past the sand and onto lush, green grass, using his snout to push through the dense bushes.

There was no path he could see. And it was hot inside the oasis. After only a few minutes he was panting again. The humid air clung to his scales, making him feel gross. Every step he expected to be leapt upon and in a fight for a life. But there was nothing except oppressive heat and the suffocating foliage scraping against his scales.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered under his breath. "Hello! Anyone here? I've come for your water. I think I'll cut a few palm trees down, too."

You did not come for water and palm trees, young drake.

Asier spun. "I heard that! Stop whispering and fight me, coward." His blood pressure spiked, his heart pounding within his chest. Run! The small voice inside of him screamed. He pushed a paw down, smothering it, and stood his ground. This is it, the larger voice said. Finally. Past the initial adrenaline spike he calmed and even felt a little relieved. After years of weariness and self-pity, he'd have peace.

Young drake, tell us your name. What did you really come for?

"Where are you? And my name is Asier. Fight me," he repeated. The tan dragon frowned. He spun again, then walked in the direction the voice sounded loudest. It actually sounded like it was coming from inside his head, but he refused to believe that. Just a trick of the heat and the nauseating plants, which were now taller than he was. For a dragon used to open desert he was starting to get increasingly uncomfortable.

He pushed past several leafy bushes, the wide palm leaves stroking the sand off his scales. He tried to listen for the trickle of water, which coincided with the direction of the voice. He struggled inward towards the center of the grove before stumbling unceremoniously into a clearing. The bushes he had just tripped past formed a circle of silent guards. The heart of the oasis! Surely the oasis' owner would be here, and be protective of its small patch of humid paradise.

In the center of the clearing a small spring bubbled upwards, providing fresh, clear water. Around it orchids of every color bloomed and swayed in a gentle upward breeze. How had he not seen them from the other side? The foliage was dense but it wasn't that dense. He blinked. Looking upward made him feel dizzy. They were towering over him, now. Closing in. When he first stepped into the grove he could see the cloudless blue sky of mid-day. The sky had disappeared, covered by exotic flowers and their brightly colored petals. Reds and oranges the color of a fiery sunset, pastel blues and pinks like flowers for a wedding, and behind it, deep green foliage that rippled and swayed.

"It... it can't be true," Asier said, shrinking down on his paws, spinning in a tight circle as he kept his eyes above. But he couldn't watch. Every time he stared in one place nothing happened. Nothing moved. But then he would move his eyes and he would swear on his life that the flowers had moved closer. He trembled.

Truth is what you believe, young Asier. What do you believe?

"That I'm useless, and you're a talking plant," he whined. He didn't have the heart to lie to a bunch of flowers.

The plant laughed, if one could call it that. Their leaves rustled and moved in the corner of his eyes. Swaying from a breeze or on their own, he couldn't say. The flower petals turned up slightly, giving the appearance of a smile. He turned his head to look more closely. Maybe the petals were always like that. These weren't death plants. In their presence he felt a sentience older than the eldest drake in his village.

"I'm going crazy," he muttered, spinning again, unable to stop himself from moving and pacing.

A crazed young Asier comes to my grove, and he has come to die.

"I didn't say that." He hadn't, had he? Was a mind reading plant better or worse than a talking plant?

He comes to offer himself to us, to commit suicide. Such a young drake, to die so soon.

A vine wrapped around his ankle, tripping him. Asier stumbled, shaking his hind leg to get it off. "Fine, maybe I did. How's this work? We going to fight?" He snapped his muzzle at the closet orchid flower, a smaller, bright red with pedals the color of blood.

Quicker than the eye could follow, a vine slapped down around his muzzle and clamped his snout shut. His eyes widened. Oh, Seven Spirits! This was real! He put all his weight into his hind legs, trying to tug his snout free, digging great gouges into the said as he backpedaled. The vine constricted, wrapping another coil around him. It started to hurt, ow!

You would lose, young Asier.

The vine constricted painfully before softening its grip, letting him pull his muzzle free. He stretched his jaw and licked over his snout. "Well," he muttered. His mind had been made up long ago. "I have nothing to lose." He attacked.

It went just as well as before. Before his muzzle could close around a new orchid's flower, this time a blue one with white spots, the vines struck. They didn't beat him, or lash out at him. They grabbed and coiled mercilessly, one for each of his paws, one for his tail, one around his neck, and two for his wings. He started losing count. They pulled him off the ground easily, like a mother holding her hatchling to her chest.

You have everything to lose, young Asier.

This time no vine coiled around his muzzle, leaving him free to speak and snap his teeth. "I have nothing!" He snarled, trying to kick his way free, and failing horribly. "I'm a useless burden. Just kill me already. I'm done with this, I'm done being a disappointment." He thought he'd have to fight to keep his calm in his last moments, during his stoic, rational decision to end his life. He had prepared himself mentally for the biological urge to survive, and how to suppress it. But it wasn't the calm the he felt now, nor the rising bile of panic. He felt tears forming in his eyes as he sniffled, his heart achingly painfully, as if another vine had wrapped around it and started squeezing. His final moments were to be a blubbering mess of a dragon that had stopped trying and was tired of pretending not to care as the waterfall of self-loathing crushed him into the gentle arms of the plant. "And stop calling me young. I've seen enough."

Asier, who has seen so much. A vine snaked across his belly, touching against his sensitive belly plates. He was powerless to do anything except watch as it explored across his body.

Asier the traveler, who has seen all the world has to offer. Asier the father, who has felt the pleasures of his kind and raised his young. Asier the wise, who has learned so much.

"Maybe not those things, but I've seen enough. Trust me." He sniffled. "I'm done with this."

Young Asier, the virgin.

Asier became aware of just how exposed he was to the plant. Like all of his kind, his genitals were hidden in a slit between his legs, his testes completely internal with a cock that appeared only during arousal or the usual needs. His tailhole was tucked just beneath his tail, a small indentation surrounded by tiny, light colored scales he had never considered being embarrassed of in the nudity of his village, but here and now, he was suddenly self-conscious of the tight, virgin orifice. It's true, he was a virgin, with males and females. After repeated, disastrous attempts in pursuing dragonesses he had given up and hadn't thought about it much lately. One had to have some semblance of a future to attract a mate in this world. "And what does that matter?"

Everything. How can you know what you are giving up? The preciousness of your life, if you have never seen your own egg hatch? We will show you.

Show him? Show him an egg? Plants grew out of the ground, not from eggs. This was not how he had expected his last moments to go, blushing while mentally arguing philosophy with a bush of orchids.

We are no bush. We are many, and one.

The orchid's vines turned the dragon upside down, so instead of being suspended in the air by the vines, he soon found himself laying on his back on a makeshift bed of tendrils. The vines moved his limbs to where they wanted him. Any time he attempted to struggle and move his limbs they tightened their grip, literally bending him to their will. But they never hurt him, and were careful to keep their beautiful flowers out of his muzzle's reach.

"Whatever you're doing, just stop. I'm ready. Eat me or whatever, I'm done, I don't care." He closed his eyes and leaned his muzzle back. Let it see him not put up a fight. It could pull him limb from limb and devour him. He didn't care. He didn't care about those things, about an egg, or seeing more of the world. He was tired of trying.

We will see.

The vine around his tail pulled his thickly muscled tail towards the ground, exposing his light tan tailhole and nether regions to the unblinking gaze of flowers. The male drake blushed. "Please, just end it. Stop playing with me."

We do not play.

The vine along his chest moved down between his thighs, flattening itself against his groin. He didn't know they could change shape. But it did. It molded itself, pressing against his slit, the ropey vine turning into a softer and warmer. At the same time two new vines coiled up to tickle at his inner thighs. His hips involuntarily thrust upwards. It looked like nothing, just a thicker vine pressing against his slit. But it felt like everything - it felt warm and tight, hot and moist, like what he always imagined a tight dragoness would feel like. His eyes knew it was fake, but his groin didn't; his groin thought a willing female was straddling him, pressing her slit down onto his crotch. He could almost feel her dainty paws on his chest as she rode him, her hot breath tickling against his cheek as she panted, grinding her wet slit against his.

"H-hey," Asier stammered. His body responded of its own volition, the tapered, black tip of his cock parting through his male slit and into the inviting warmth of the plant.

We know what a dragoness feels like. She feels like this.

Asier moaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. The feeling around his cock tip was indescribable, better than anything he had imagined in the early hours of the morning while pawing himself. He didn't know how a vine could imitate a dragoness' slit, or even if the orchids were telling the truth. But it felt like the truth. Very, very much so. He bucked his hips and whimpered. His cock stiffened to full mast, the entire length of his obsidian erection pushing into the faux vaginal slit.

"That's... amazing," he grunted, pushing his hips up again, the vines giving him enough freedom to buck and thrust. The vine molded around his cock and rippled, secreting a warm mixture of lubricant, slickening his shaft the same way a dragoness would. With every movement of his hips lewd squelch sounds filled the air, making him blush to his ear tips, but he couldn't stop.

The warmth of love. Your seed can create life.

He knew that, of course. He just never imagined it would feel this good. "Unnnf," he groaned, head tilted back as the vine rippled and squeezed. It worked around the knot forming at the base of his cock, squeezing and tugging on it, like he was locked inside of a tight, small female. Warm tingles pleasure danced along his loins, radiating down his spine and into his paws, making him alternate between whimpers and moans. He didn't last long. His tip flared, pushing up against her cervix as he came, sinking his cock into her until they were slit-to-slit, his shaft pulsing and throbbing embarrassingly soon.

His auburn maw opened and closed, panting, as he thrust his hips up once, twice, and splurted his seed into the vine's suckling warmth. Every throb of his cock flung another hot, stringy rope of cum pulsing into the silky folds gripping his shaft. So soon, he whined, knowing it hadn't been nearly long enough as he shuddered in orgasm. His tailhole squeezed and relaxed, squeezed and relaxed, tail bucking upwards with each throb of his cock.

Do not be embarrassed by your body. It responds as a young male should.

More, he pleaded, more. His orgasm tapered off, the plant's suckling calming down to slow, rhythmic pulse, milking him for every drop of pearly dragon seed. He wanted to buck and hump. Breed, his mind said. Love. Procreate. Feelings he had buried beneath depression and shame came welling up like water overflowing a dam, his body powerless to its demands.

We know what a drake feels like. He feels like this.

I know what I feel like, he thought. I feel amazing. He breathed in through his nostrils, his chest rising and falling with deliberately slow, deep breaths. He opened his eyes. The vines around his cock looked like vines and felt like a well-bred slit, its velvety slick walls suckling around his shaft. Crazy. But he didn't care.

"More?" He asked, pushing his still-erect cock upwards. He watched as another vine that had been caressing his inner thigh moved lower, towards his tail. The flowers swayed back and forth at the edges of his vision.

The vine dipped out of sight, behind his erection, and the next thing he felt was the warm flesh of another cock against his tailhole. He squeaked, squeezing tightly as he flinched away, tugging his tail up over his opening. Or tried to, at least. The vines held him firmly, keeping his hind legs spread like a dragoness.

"Hey, what is that? Stop it," he whined. He bucked his hips, but the array of orchids had focused its attention on his rump. The warm sleeve still held his cock, but it seemed to be distracted, only semi paying attention to the needs of his erection. He could see the volume of his cum held within the semi translucent vine, the container molded into a small egg-like mass to hold it. Weird.

This is what a mature drake's penis feels like. Like yours, but larger. His seed can create life.

Asier squirmed as hard as he could, pulling in any direction he could manage. Which was very little. The only freedom he had was his muzzle, but the vines kept themselves perfectly out of reach from his snapping teeth. "I'm not interested in that!"

The penis-shaped vine pushed against his tailhole, firmly, dimpling the soft flesh inwards before backing off. Before Asier could breathe a sigh of relief another vine immediately took its place. Differently shaped, more malleable, it caressed his anal ring like a timid lover. It left a wet trail of slippery warmth wherever it touched. He whined and shook his head. It was preparing to breed him, like a female. And then there was yet another vine, the same as the last, which slimed against his rump as it coiled upwards. It touched beneath his tail, lapping gently at his exposed orifice. He tried to squeeze, let the plant get the hint, but it was patient. And, he hated to admit, it started to feel good.

This is what his tongue feels like. He is eager to please you and prepare you for breeding.

The wet 'tongue' felt wonderful under his tail, touching nerves and places he had never touched that way before. His defiance evaporated rapidly under its gentle caresses, the tightly clenched muscle of his anal ring slowly relaxing. He stopped worrying about that initial press against his tailhole and started enjoying the new sensations. The tension in his shoulders evaporated as he breathed in deep through his nostrils, daring to let himself give in just a little bit. If the plant wanted to lick him, what harm was there in that?

"Mmn, no thanks to the breeding, but the tongue is fine," he instructed. He even voluntarily spread his hind legs a bit, imaging the soft, willing tongue of a dragoness pleasuring him. His softened erection started to stiffen and harden again with the thought.

The vines pulled and slicked across his opening until his tailhole dripped with their secretions. One vine tugged gently at his anal ring, stretching the muscle to one side while the other pushed at his entrance, squirming its way inside him.

"Hey!" he squeaked, clenching down tightly against the intrusion, but it was too late; the vine wriggled its way inside his anal passage, continuing to secrete its slippery liquid inside his tailhole. He could feel it moving around, touching and rubbing him as it pushed deep inside his bowels, lengths of the green intruder disappearing into his rump.

He squeezed, trying to get it out, but that only made him whimper; squeezing produced the entirely foreign sensation of his spread tailhole squeezing around the vine, unable to fully close. It was an incredibly vulnerable feeling, being unable to do what he wanted with his body. Up until now he had been more or less okay with everything the plant had done, even if he hadn't initiated it; now he was beginning to understand just how powerless he was, how little choice he had in what happened next.

The other vine kept tugging gently at his clenched anus, urging him to relax by lapping around the outer ring of his stretched tailhole. It still felt good, but he couldn't get over the fact that it was inside him, inside his rump, and he definitely couldn't get over the fact that he was starting to like it. He could almost imagine another drake on top of him, pinning him down and pushing his erection against his rump, and how it would feel to squeeze around a real cock. Thoughts he had never, ever had before he found at the forefront of his mind. "What are you doing to me?" he whined. He wasn't interested in drakes that way.

You are you, Asier, we change nothing.

The vine pushed upwards, touching a spot inside him that made him gasp. His hind leg twitched. What was that? It didn't repeat the motion. It finished with whatever it had been doing inside of his rump, a disconcerting amount of vine slipping out of his relaxed tail hole with a lewd slurp. His tailhole drooled with the viscous liquid; it felt unnaturally warm as it oozed onto the underside of his tail. The green vine that had been gently massaging his cock retreated as well, taking the odd globe of translucent semen with it, leaving his erection bobbing freely in the air.

Two new vines appeared, spiraling down to land on his chest. Each one spread into four tendrils and pressed down, feeling heavier than they appeared. They felt like... paws? The warm, dry tendrils confused him; they felt exactly like his daydream of another drake on top of him. Somehow the plant knew, or it was just a coincidence. He purred softly, his shoulders relaxing; he felt safe in his paws. Taken care of.

Feel his love and desire for you. His seed can create life.

Before Asier could point out that the plant was repeating itself he felt its makeshift cock-shaped vine pressing against his tailhole again. It was at least three times the width of the previous vine that had just been spreading his freshly lubed anus. Wait, no! He shook his head and clenched against it, trying to come to his senses.

The paws pressed down harder, making it difficult to breathe. Still he shook his head. He didn't want a cock inside him! But it poked and prodded, pushing upwards along the smooth, slippery underside of his thick tail. He felt its tapered tip line up directly with his tailhole, the tightly clenched muscle denying entrance. It pressed forward, dimpling the sensitive flesh inwards. Asier whimpered.

One of the weights against his chest disappeared and a new feeling appeared around the base of his cock. A paw. Stroking him. He whined, hind legs twitching again as his cock reacted to its touch. Seven Spirits, he wanted to cum again! He bucked slightly, and in the moment he relaxed and starting thinking more of his own cock and less of the plant's, its tip surged forward, entering him in one smooth motion to claim his anal virginity.

He squeaked! loudly, his cock twitching in the air while his lubed anus stretched easily around the other drake's shaft, his previously virgin tailhole spreading to accommodate its girth. It flexed, the vine imitating a real cock perfectly, its hard cock radiating heat as it wedged inside his stretched anal ring. The paw around his cock squeezed again, drawing a soft moan from his muzzle.

"Please," he said. Please stop, he wanted to say. But couldn't. A growing part of him wanted the full length of that cock inside him. Wanted to see how it felt to be hilted by a larger, stronger drake, to see what it felt like when its orgasm came and deposited its seed inside his bowels. He spread his legs, shifting his weight.

The vines obliged. Asier leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Unbidden, images of male drakes from his village came to his mind. How it would've felt to be with them, to tell them he was interested, to spread his legs and raise his tail for them. He imagined it would've felt exactly like this.

Its cock pushed forward, sinking itself inside his anal passage with a schlurp! similar to the sound his cock had made inside the dragoness. He had felt a moment of sharp, stinging pain when it had first entered him that was completely gone now, replaced by a rapidly spreading warm and full feeling. A feeling that felt so right.

He took slow, deep breaths, willing the clenched muscles around his entrance to relax. As soon as he stopped clenching the vine's cock pushed another girthy inch into him, spreading him wider and eliciting small gasps. And then a new motion as it retreated, pulling backwards; he could feel its tip dragging back, threatening to leave him empty and incomplete. He whined and raised his hips and with one, smooth motion it thrust back under his tail, pushing so far that an unwilling moan escaped his muzzle. It repeated this motion over and over again, each time spearing him just a little further, widening his slickened tailhole just a bit more.

The paw around his cock retreated, placing itself back on his chest, his bobbing erection once more ignored. He didn't mind. He liked being on his back, enjoying the way his body rocked every time its cock pushed inside his belly. Again and again it thrust into him, rhythmically now, rutting him. The plant tilted the angle of its penetration, and a new pleasure came from inside him. He whined, his hind paws twitching from the feeling. Every time its shaft pulled back the feeling went away, leaving him wanting, until just its cock tip was wedged inside his rump; and then it would push in again and he'd feel whole again, filled by its hot flesh, and the pleasure would return ten fold, like a button inside him was being pressed that he had never known existed before today.

Its pace quicked, the force of its thrusts rocking his whole body as his hard, black cock bounced in the air. He could feel its knot pushing against his over-stretched tailhole with each thrust, significantly wider than the width of his own rock-hard knot. He squeezed his tailhole around its cock when he felt its knot kissing against him, shaking his head; there was no way.

The orchids didn't share his opinion on the matter. It pushed hard against him, grinding itself against his stretched tail hole. "You won't fit," he whined. For his trouble he got a particularly dominant thrust which made him yelp! and lifted his rump into the air. If he had been laying on the ground and not suspended in the air from a nest of vines, the only thing still on the ground would've been his shoulders. When he opened his eyes he was snout-to-snout with his own pre-cum dribbling cock.

He stopped clenching; it hurt when he did that, so he went back to trying to relax instead. But everytime he relaxed himself he found his tailhole getting stretched just a little more. The plant was intent on knotting him. That solid mass of a knot kept pushing and grinding against his dripping-wet tailhole, his over-stretched ring of muscle widening just a bit more, stretching more than he thought possible. He whimpered; was this how it felt to be a dragoness? Just when he thought he couldn't take another inch, right at its widest, it slipped inside him with a lewd pop!, a dollop of vine-lube squelching out of his over-filled tailhole with a slurp, leaving the underside of his tail soaked in slick vine juice.

Asier roared. Ow! he wanted to say, but the pain around the widest part of its cock quickly faded into the overwhelming pleasure of being knotted. He squeezed his anal ring around its base, feeling the shape of its entire cock inside him, filling his bowels. Its knot twitched and surged every time he squeezed around it, pressing directly up against that small button of pleasure buried within his tailhole. His tail lashed back and forth as he pushed his hips down on it, losing himself completely in the pleasure of being loved and filled by another drake.

He squeezed around it again and again, his whole body shuddering as his cock twitched, oozing cum onto his chest; not the shooting, splurting cum from before, but the intense full body pleasure of his first paws-free orgasm. His paws curled, his mouth parted as he panted into the hot, humid air. Every dribble of cum onto his chest made his stretched anus clench like a vice around the base of the plant's cock, squeezing over and over again while his tail flagged.

The plant responded, its own simulated orgasm finally coming as its cock flared inside him. It squirted inside him with powerful splurts, its cum splashing against the deepest reaches of his colon as it filled him, every surge and splurt of its cock in time with his tailhole's rhythmic clenching.

His chest heaved as he gulped down air with big, panting breaths. His anal ring milked the orchid's cock for every drop, an unintentional side effect of simultaneous orgasms he had never known about. Its cum kept spurting inside him, filling him for long minutes after his own orgasm had already tapered off, keeping its knotted cock inside him.

He started to squirm, feeling extremely self-conscious. It was one thing to cum into an artificial vagina, quite another to be bred to orgasm with an artificial cock wedged into his rump. His shaft retreated fully into his male-slit, not helping the view; now he really looked like a knotted dragoness that had be been bred out of heat, in her rump instead of her slit. Even his lower belly had started to swell slightly from the volume of whatever it was squirting inside him. Plant cum? More lube? He didn't know.

The plant kept itself knotted inside him for some time, even after its orgasm had tapered off. Only when Asier started to squirm and kick did its cock slowly soften and pull out from his well-stuffed rump. Its tip slipped free with a splurt, leaving his relaxed anal muscles gaped and drooling what felt very much like cum.

Asier tried to coil his tail upwards, embarrassed at himself, but the vines held his tail down with a firm grip. He imagined he really did look like a dragoness now, with his cock fully retreated back into his male slit, his chest and rump covered in cum.

"Can I go bathe now?" he asked.

We know what it's like to create life. It feels like this.

"Uhm," he said, bewildered. What more could it do to him? Only a dragoness could truly create life. Everything today had just been a weird vine-shaped... things. He admitted the way the vines could simulate warmth and different degrees of hardness was unnervingly realistic, but there were some things even a mind-talking plant couldn't do. Or so he thought.

The wall of brightly colored petals parted, bringing forth two egg-shaped objects. The vines coiled and cradled them with loving tenderness, the green shapes stroking along the egg shell. The pedals folded around the eggs, stroking them as they passed by to rest in front of Asier, as if the orchids were displaying their most prized possessions to him.

Two eggs, gifts from a young dragoness. With your own seed which we deposited into you, you can create life.

Oh, no. No, no, no. Asier snapped his jaws, the cum covered drake suddenly finding his absolute limits to sexual escapades with plants. "Absolutely not," he said. "Drakes can't do that. And they're already laid! You can't just... rub seed on them... I think."

He had seen eggs in Arradun, of course. The nesting mothers kept them closely guarded. But all of the ones he had seen his life were larger and harder than these. These looked smaller, less like shells and more like leather. The smaller one had green speckles, and the second, slightly larger, was a pastel pink. Were they even dragon eggs, or something else? And it didn't matter. You couldn't just... put eggs... somewhere, and create life!

Unfertilized, she died before her eggs fully formed. A gift, for young Asier.

"I really don't think that's how it works," he argued, uselessly. He was powerless. The vines were already ignoring him, coating their two precious eggs with the same slick lubricant he was all too familiar with. Still he struggled, trying to push, pull, and yank his way from the vines. The only thing he succeeded in doing was getting his tail pulled down a bit more, further exposing his cum-splattered rump.

Coated with lubricant until they shimmered in the air, the vines moved the green speckled one down towards his well-bred tailhole. The plant was insane! He had to get free, He couldn't stop trying, but by now the vines had tightened to the point where he could barely move an inch. All he had left was his muzzle.

"Please don't," he pleaded. "It's too big. And it won't work. I'm male. A drake. We can find a dragoness for you. Please!"

The blunted edge of an egg pushed against his slickened anus. Seven Spirits, he cursed, it was definitely wider than the artificial knot he had just taken. The crazed plant was going to seriously injure him if he couldn't find a way to stop it.

In life there is pleasure, and pain, young Asier.

"I don't want pain!"

No one does, but it is part of life. Yet pain is a burden which lessens when shared. We will show you.

Before he could argue some more a thick green vine wrapped around his snout. Well, not, around his snout - it parted his muzzle, letting him gnaw and chew on it, but his sharp teeth seemed to have no effect on it. It hardened, going from a soft vine to the hardness of a shell in an instant.

"Nrrf!" He tried shaking his head, but the tip of the first egg pressed forward, propelled by the vines. His stretched tailhole spread easily around the initial push. The shape was completely different than a drake's cock, though; the tip was just the beginning which just widened further and further, seemingly never ending. Asier's tail tip struggled and flicked as his anal ring stretched lewdly around the egg. The plant was actually going to impregnate him! No, he thought, panicking and clenching his paws and his tailhole. But clenching his rump did nothing but send a sharp twinge of pain down his tail. He gnawed on the vine, whining as it continued its firm push.

Blessedly the vines seemed to feel his trepidation. It didn't impale him on the egg; it used its vines to ooze additional liquid around his stretched tailhole, massaging the outer ring of the overused muscle, coaxing him into relaxing. Every time he caught himself relaxing even only slightly it'd push forward again, sinking another inch of egg under his tail.

Too big, he thought, too big! Even with the plant's extra care he couldn't help but squirm and whine. It definitely felt way more massive than it looked, and he couldn't believe it wasn't over yet. Every moment he thought no more, there's no way his rump could stretch another inch, no way the egg had been that big, he did, and it was. Even taking a cock under his tail had felt more natural than this; there was no shape to it, no pleasure, just the dull ache of his anal ring being stretched wide.

He squeezed his eyes shut and bit down on the vine, hard, as the last push sent a sharp pain through him; not the pain of a cut or a bruised wing, but the sharp pain of oviposition, he thought. This is what a female felt when she layed. With a gasp and lewd squelch! the egg sunk into him past its crest, disappearing into his rump. Oh Seven Spirits, it felt massive.

Where the knot had only stretched him in two directions at its widest point, the egg stretched his rectum in every direction; there was no room for it, it was simply too large, like a huge weight had just been inserted into him. But it didn't stop there, at his entrance; the vines started gently pushing it into him. A visible curve in his belly moved, shifting its way upwards. He moaned and shuddered, the tip of his obsidian penis poking through his male-slit. He shook his head. There was no way this was pleasurable. But it was. Somewhere, deep inside him, it felt incredible.

Before he could begin to get used to the egg-shaped mass pushing through his bowels the vines had lined the second one up with his gently gaped tailhole. There was no conversation this time, no reassurances; the vine pushed the first egg only far enough inside of him to make room for the second.

The first part of the pink egg squelched into his lube-drenched tailhole with startling ease. His body was getting too used to this. First a cock, then an egg, now a larger egg, it was too much for poor Asier. He had no energy left in him to fight it. His entire body relaxed, limbs limp, resigning himself to his new fate.

The second, larger egg actually pained him less than the first, mostly likely because of his newfound relaxed state. Like the other, once it was past its widest point his body welcomed the intrusion with a loud squelch. The new egg butted up against the new one with a soft clunk. That was a weird sensation. And then the vines came back, two of them gently pushing into his lewdly stretched and dripping anal entrance.

Funny, how much of an intrusion the first vine had felt. Now it almost felt normal. Each vine found an egg inside him and gently guided them deeper into his bowels. When he opened his eyes and looked down he could see them moving inside him, giving him the creeps. He quickly closed his eyes again. His rebellious cock had retreated back into its male slit. Past his the initial spot of pleasure just inside his rump there wasn't as much pleasure as there was a vague sense of discomfort and fullness as the eggs pushed and moved. His stomach gurgled. What did the plant have in mind? As soon as the plant let him go he'd squat and get these things out of him and leave this place as fast as his wings could carry him.

Eventually the eggs stopped moving, settling into his belly in roughly the same area he imagined a dragoness would carry her eggs. The vines retreated, leaving his tailhole empty for the first time in hours. The other vines slowly maneuvered him back into a standing position before setting him gently on the ground, their flowers swaying back and forth.

"That's enough of that," he said, immediately waddling over to a corner to squat and get these eggs out of him. The orchids watched. Nothing came from him except the embarrassing dribble of cum and lubricant. He whined, walking slowly over to the pool of water.

They are not ready yet, young Asier. Forty days and nights, perhaps. You will know.

"I'm not a dragoness," he said, dipping into the pool with a sigh. He drank greedily before trying to wash the seed and lubricant from his scales. He definitely looked like a gravid dragoness, however. His belly had the tell-tale sign of a dragoness carrying eggs, and he knew he wouldn't be able to fly easily while carrying their mass.

No, you are Asier, a young drake.

Asier sighed, shaking water off his muzzle as he climbed out of the pool. He'd get rid of the eggs later. But right now he wanted to be anywhere except here. He walked towards the edge of the clearing, but when he reached it, a vine wrapped around his ankle.

One egg is for you, Asier, one egg is for us. You will stay and learn.

"I don't want to learn," he groaned. "I want to go home."

You no longer wish to die?

"I don't know. All I know is I don't want to be here."

We will see.

Asier sighed. He was effectively the plant's prisoner until it decided to let him go. He paced around the circle of ferns and hedges, but whenever he poked his nose into the brush or tried to leap for it, a vine would inevitably bring him back.

An hour later, tired from trying and already tired of his gravid belly, he lay down in the sand with a huff of indignation. "Fine then. Who are you, anyways?"

~~~~~~~~

Over the past thirty-nine days Asier had learned quite a bit. The orchids didn't really have a name for itself. They were less an actual being and more a consciousness. They tended to respond to his questions in ways he had never thought of, or in ways he'd never heard of any dragon thinking of.

At first their conversations were dominated by Asier's indignation at carrying its eggs and the plant's unfailingly simple explanations. It hadn't killed him because he hadn't come to steal from it, not truly. It knew he had just wanted to simply stop living. But it didn't kill for pleasure. Asier wasn't sure it did anything for pleasure. The orchids were like an old hound guarding its treasures, dealing out lessons to those that happened upon it.

The caravan had been real. They had stopped here months ago and came with axes, seeking to plunder what little wood there was. There had been violence, yes. But the orchids didn't regale the tail with any satisfaction. Just facts. One of the guards, a dragoness, had been carrying unfertilized eggs. Not uncommon, but usually the body gets rid of them before they were this developed. During the fight she had gone into labor, passing the eggs, and conversing with the orchids much as Asier was. After resting and in exchange for the empty vessels, and a promise to never return, she had been allowed to fly back to her homeland.

That had given Asier hope for the first time in weeks, hearing that. That there was a way out. An exchange. The orchids were fixated on fairness. He could use that, maybe. Otherwise he'd go crazy from drinking water and eating whatever fruits and wild vegetables the orchids could bring him.

The orchids never fully explained how they'd impregnated him the way he did. He was still male, thankfully. But the eggs stayed firmly lodged inside him and didn't impede any natural function of his body, except to make him look quite gravid.

He blushed to think about it, but the orchids had been quite accommodating it letting him relieve his sexual frustration and desires, letting him hump into the perfectly shaped vine in varying positions. The orchids told him he was filled with desire from carrying eggs; he was pretty sure it was just because it felt so good.

He learned that the eggs were actually his. He'd be their father, as his sperm was used to impregnate the eggs. He guess he'd be their mother, too? That was weird. He didn't like thinking about that.

The eggs had grown in his belly. He could feel them getting larger over the weeks. The curve of his gravid belly could tell him that, and he knew flying would be an extreme chore, if not entirely impossible, at this point.

So he'd stayed and stopped trying to escape. The orchids were certain tomorrow would be the day. His egg-laying day. He was nervous. Of course he'd be nervous! Males don't lay eggs. But they hadn't come out yet, and they had to come out eventually.

"Will it hurt?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

Yes. But with pain, there is life.

Life - the orchids were obsessed with it. Ending life, creating life, living life. Life dominated all of their conversations recently.

Asier didn't want to die anymore. If this egg was real he had already decided. He'd bring him, or her, home. The egg was his now and he didn't want to abandon it. There was a calm reassurance to that. He'd be a father. He'd raise his young, try and find steady work.

It hadn't been a sudden decision. In the first days he thought about nothing except escaping, getting rid of the eggs, and perhaps smashing them. He shuddered. The thought of harm coming to his egg filled him with dread. What the orchids wanted with the first egg, he didn't know. But that had been the bargain. An egg for them, and he'd be free to go, to live and die as he pleased. He checked the nest he had built for the hundredth time, making sure there were no sharp sticks or rocks, just the warm sand heated by the sun. Fresh water for him to drink. He nestled himself into it, laying his head on the edge of his nest, and snoozed in the afternoon light.

~~~~~~~~

He awoke with a sharp pain in his tail hole. A weight had shifted in his body, or two weights to be exact. His eggs had moved inside him, nature somehow knowing when they were ready for laying. He groaned, rolling over onto his side. The twilight of early morning gave an eerie glow to the all-too-familiar wall of orchids as they looked down on him. He closed his eyes as another sharp pang rocked his body, his tailhole aching. This was it!

He took deep breaths, as he had practiced, timing the sharp pains. The orchids told him it'd go quickly; that his tailhole was more accommodating than a dragoness' cervix to laying eggs. He wasn't too sure about that, but if it was true, he thought he was about to find a new sense of appreciation for his mother and every dragoness who had ever laid a fully developed egg.

Asier squeaked, toes curling in pain with the last contraction. The first egg started to poke through, his tailhole slowly spreading as its tip greeted the morning air. So big! If he thought they were big going in, he felt was about to have a very unpleasant surprise. The pressure within his bowls was unimaginable. Out, out! His body seemed to say; it was time for these eggs to go. He lifted his hind leg and tried to relax and let nature, or the plant's twisted sense of nature, take its course.

Unexpectedly his cock tip started to appearing, parting his male slit just as his first egg was spreading the tight ring of muscle of his tailhole. "Not now," he moaned. What was arousing about this? But he knew the answer. That new, wonderful button the orchids had shown him just inside his bowels. His prostate, the orchids had said it was. He had never heard the word before but the plant didn't seem to be capable of telling a lie.

The widest part of the first egg wedged against his prostate now, pressing into it, making him whine and squirm. Out of impulse he reached down to stroke his shaft before he was hit with another contraction, another shudder passing through his body as the egg squelched another inch outside of him. He rolled onto his belly, all four paws digging into the sand as he squatted over his nest. He raised his tail as high as he could, not realizing he had his rump turned to the flower's unblinking gaze.

He pushed, helping the egg along, every push widening his tailhole another inch. Thicker than his forearm, the egg felt dangerously large; he was afraid to keep it inside of him and afraid to have it keep going.

Another shock of pain and he cried out, yelping into the morning air as he pushed and relaxed, pushing until there were tears in his eyes, and just when he thought his tailhole would surely get very injured from this, it slipped out of him with a squelch and a plop, landing gently in the warm sand. Asier panted, his tongue lolling from one side of his mouth.

One more. And the largest one had gone first, the opposite order from going in. The small comforts of life.

The second wasn't much easier. He shifted his weight, instinct telling him to not lay one egg directly on the other. Its crest still brought tears to his eyes, his toes curling in the warm sand before it too squelched out of him, leaving him painfully empty.

After it was over he stood there, whining, not wanting to know how stretched his tailhole was; surely more than it had been going in. Then he turned and saw them. His eggs. Two of them. They were huge! They had grown so much inside him, he could hardly believe it; their shells had fully hardened, their colors much more prominent now. The speckled green one looked brilliant, reminding him of the verdant vines. The other, soft pink, positively radiated in the dawn's light; beautiful. He cooed and walked over to them, checking them for any sign of damage or imperfection before curling around both eggs.

Well done, young Asier, who has known the pleasures of his kind, and has created life.

"Thank you," he said, simply.

A week later, and it was difficult to leave one of the eggs behind. There was a biological urge that both were his, a sense of abandoning one of his hatchlings. But the vines were adamant. The green one was theirs and it wouldn't explain why.

You are always welcome here, young Asier. Bring your young one. And we will kill you, if you ask.

Asier snorted, smiling at the orchid's bluntness. "No, but thank you. I appreciate the offer."

He turned to check his saddlebags. On his left, water refilled from the oasis and food enough for the journey. On his right, his egg, swathed in the softest leaves he could find. "It's time to go home."