You Will Do by skiesofsilver

You Will Do

skiesofsilver, Anthro, Chalice, Claws, Dragon, Dragoness, F/solo, Fantasy, Female, Gender Shifting, Magic, Possession, Scalie, Second Person, Tail Sex, Transformation

You lift the chalice from the altar to your lips and look down just in time to see the shadows swirling in its confines. You yelp and let it go, the chalice falling and rolling with a rattle that echoes throughout the halls, but what you pay attention to is the shadows that spring out of the worn goblet, smoky shadows that swirl and twist before you. You step back, but do no more than that as you look at the shape that coalesces in front of you. It takes some time, time you could have used to run, but instead you simply stare at the shape that becomes more and more defined with arms and legs, a torso and a chest. Yet, it's not a shadowy human that soon floats before you, but a humanoid dragon with a tail, snout, shadowy scales, and talons in place of nails. Or really, a dragoness! Your gaze goes over it entirely, taking in its smooth gray scales sometimes traced with red lines like veins, long slender legs that terminate in tri-taloned feet, equally long and slender arms that have five clawed fingers, a jagged snout that's set in a sardonic smile, those eyes that burn with the red embers of a dying fire; a thin tail ridged with white, bony protrusions; and the two skeletal gray protrusions that remind of wings flap gently behind her. Then there's the apparition's womanly features. Those wide hips, toned thighs, curvy waist, tight, inviting slit, and breasts upon her chest, round, smooth orbs that you can't help but stare at even if they are a mere, near substantial shadow like the rest of the draconic woman. Still, you continue to stare, gaze slowly dropping from her breasts before you hear a hissing chuckle that echoes softly through the halls. Your stare shifts sharply upward, and you look into those red eyes that glow with amusement, though her red slits hold something more menacing.

"Yes," the dragoness says. "You will do."

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but the words dissipate as the apparition of the dragoness swirls back into shadows that coil and churn. You step back, but a slight step does nothing to avoid the shadows that spring forward and drive into your chest. You grunt out of instinct more than anything else, because the shadows that sink into you doesn't any feel worse than a gentle caress across your chest. It feels kind of good, actually, and you relax if only momentarily. After all, it is the essence of that dragoness that you're absorbing, and that can't be good, right? You grab for what little is left of the shadowy stuff sinking past your coat into your skin, but your hand only clutches at shadows and nothing else. Before you know it, you have absorbed it entirely. You stand there uncertainly, looking from your chest to the chalice that lays still on its side a few feet away. You place a hand on your chest while you stumble towards the chalice, your other hand reaching for the accursed cup. You're not sure what you intend to do with it, but perhaps you can draw out what is now in you?

As you stoop down and reach out to grasp the chalice, you hear that hissing chuckle again and this time it seems somehow closer. You pause and frown, looking around for where that laughter may have come from, but then you wince as your seeking hand twinges. You quickly stand and bring your hand away from the chalice and towards you to to see what's the matter. You blink when you see gray spots all across your hand. No, you realize, not spots, scales, and they're spreading rapidly, each forming scale finishing with a cool prickle as it subsumes skin and hair. Your fingers ache too. You wiggle them around as the scales spread over them, your digits gently stretching as they become more slender, and your nails start to darken, sharpen, and press out into what looks to be the beginning of claws. You clutch at your wrist with your other hands as your eyes dart to the chalice.

You freeze as that feminine, hissing voice speaks nearby with a hint of amusement to its tone. You look left and then right but there's no sign of that dragoness. You let your arms drop to your sides before you hear that hissing laughter again, and this time you realize where it's coming from--you, your head, no, your mind! You reach up to grasp your cranium, claw and still human fingers alike digging softly into your skull as if you might be able to feel the apparition that lurks within.

Your changing hand shivers, and that shiver travels up to your arm to your shoulders. You groan and look to the arm, feeling that coolness creep up that appendage, and that can mean only one thing. Hastily you throw off your jacket, letting it fall to the dusty floors without a care as you pull up your sleeve to confirm that indeed the scales are spreading up your arm, a gray, smooth scaly hide that you pick at with human hand while they climb up, your male musculature fading in favor of a thinner, though still toned shape. You gasp in pain as you pull one scale off, the spot momentarily bare before another scale quickly fills in. You stare at the scale before letting it go, watching it fall along with the hair off your scalp.

Wait, what?

You intend to reach up your still human hand to feel your scalp, but then that hand twinges the same as the first did. It only takes a glance to confirm that the scales are starting to spread there too, and you feel panic finally start to rise.

<No, no, no.>

You pause, the panic beaten back by something that's not an emotion and something that's also not you. Your fear feels sequestered, subdued by a shadowy calm that keeps it down.

You ponder this as you shrug your shoulder as the scales reach there, the slope of it narrowing as the scales gently tickle at your collarbone. Your other hand shudders, fingers clenching into a fist that quickly unfurls when you feel your growing claws press into your already scaled palm. You can't help but smile a little as the scales start to spread up this arm as well, shaping into a similarly slender structure. Each forming scale has begun to feel actually rather pleasant, like a breeze of cool air against warm skin, except when this breeze passes, no hair or skin remains, only a pleasantly cool smoothly scaled gray hide, and is there a problem with that?

"But--"

You speak a simple word of protest, but your resistance is momentarily forgotten as your shoulder blades throb and ache. You double over with a grunt, hair falling from your head over your eyes but you are more concerned with reaching your similarly clawed hands back to feel at your smarting scapula. You gasp as two bony protrusions suddenly press out, though your breath catches in your throat when you feel the scales start to climb up your neck. Your hands leave the pulsing protrusions to grasp at your throat, but you can breathe again, the air flowing freely while your hands search and find no trace of your Adam's Apple upon a neck that is thinner and more slender and stretching longer so that it is slightly more serpentine in appearance. Still, the protrusions press out against your shirt, the fabric straining and you shudder, panic renewed.

<Breathe.>

You breathe, taking air in through a nose that shrinks even as it functions before letting it out with a mouth that tickles with the spread of scales across your face. Your panic dies down, especially when you hear a soft, hissing sigh that you emulate, face gently creaking forward into the start of a proto snout. You are at ease, at least until you hear a shredding sound. The ripping and tearing goes momentarily muted as your ears meld into flatness on your skull, scales spreading over where they once were and leaving only two indiscernible hearing holes that function just as well as your old. The sound of the back of your shirt tearing to tatters resumes and is followed by the odd sensation of relief even as two alien appendages surge out from your back. You look over your shoulder and gasp at the sight of two ivory bony spires, the framework for wings, swaying away from each other as grey scales rushed to cover over them. You stare, before curiosity causes you to flex muscles you simply hadn't had before, your bony wings moving back towards each other before they bounce off each other. You shake, more surprised than harmed, and you hear that hissing laugh again. This time you can't help but laugh along with it, grinning as your face finishes pressing into a proto snout, your nose now two mere slits at its end and the teeth in your jaws beginning to sharpen and thin as more grew in to fill the growing space of your snout.

You frown. What are you doing? You are changing, yes, and that shadow you absorbed is responsible for these changes. These scales, these claws, these wings...they aren't you.

Are they?

The question remains in your mind as you continue to stare at your bony wings, idly flapping them now, their movement easier with every passing second. They feel natural to you even if you know you didn't have them minutes before. And yet, what would you rather have? A bare back with no wings and no smooth scales that even now spread down to claim more of you.

Your frown deepens. But isn't this you? Isn't that what the voice said? Isn't that what you said?

You grit your teeth together as you try to think through this, sharp points pressing together while your thinning, forking tongue feels around the inside of your elongated jaws. You blink, distracted from your thoughts by the protrusion of your sloping snout in your vision. You bring your hands up and rub over your snout even as it presses out longer and jagged, shivering at the sensation of its growth. You slide one clawed hand up your snout to touch at your bald, gray scaled scalp and feel your cranium changing too, gritting your carnivorous teeth tighter as the back of your skull slopes out into a hardened ridge that tapers into a finlike shape near the end. Your wings flap in excitement at this, and you're not sure why. You have little time to think on this as you set your jaw tighter still, your snout experiencing one final surge of growth as it finishes forming into a jagged draconic muzzle, its grayish protrusion only a little more obvious in your vision than your nose had ever been. You open it and your tongue flicks out automatically, forked and thin and so very long.

<Yes.>

You nod with the same satisfaction that the voice holds before catching yourself. Should you really be agreeing what what's changing you, what's making you into, well, you?

"Wait--" you begin in a voice high and feminine and hissing, but the words drift away as the spread of scales certainly doesn't wait. This time it concentrates on your chest, narrower shoulders slumping as you look down to see not scales spread across your torso, but the front half of a shredded shirt that hangs loosely on your body. You rip it away, exposing a chest that is indeed being covered by scales, but that's not all. Like the rest of you, the scales make other adjustments as well. You notice right away that your waist has begun to press subtly in and your stomach is flatter and thinner, your ribs more visible, but most noticeable of all is your pectorals.

Despite the gray scales that now cover them though not your still existing nipples, your pecs look softer somehow. You wonder what this means until you remember the breasts you saw on the apparition of that dragoness previously. You look up as your forked tongue flicks out, and you feel your member stiffen as you picture those breasts, so firm and round, not on her, but on you, on your scaled chest, just as firm, just as round, and just as sturdily attached. As you picture this, you glance back at your chest and notice how your pecs are rounder now and how they jiggle slightly from a quickly indrawn breath, your nipples' hue blackening to a gray darker than your scales while your areola did likewise while also thickening. You smile with your jagged draconic snout and feel a warmth suffuse your chest, a sensation in conflict with the coolness of your spreading scales, though the warmth is mirrored once the scales hit your hips. You shiver, hips gently aching as they begin to pull apart while your pecs swelled. No, not your pecs--your breasts, and the sight of them arouses you only further. Your member throbs and stiffen, an obvious masculine bulge in your pants that is at odds with the flourishing femininity on your chest. Still, you ignore your manhood in favor of caressing your burgeoning breasts with your claws, the scales soft and sensitive, only increasing your arousal as your hips ease wider and wider apart.

Suddenly your pants start to slip, no longer able to remain fully on your widening hips. You snarl and hiss in annoyance, letting one clawed hand drop from your breasts to hold up your slipping pants. You blink as you are suddenly drawn back, one hand clinging to your pants while the other awkwardly cups a still swelling breast. Yes, a breast, and you have two of them, along with an increasingly feminine form, and is that so wrong? You peer down at yourself, shivering as the scales continue to spread, overtaking your crotch and leaving your manhood untouched before they began to spread the gray down your legs and up and around your rear. Whether you like it or not, you are becoming more and more like that apparition, and you...you are beginning to like it.

This time you laugh in time with the hissing chuckle that echoes through your mind. Your laughter, however, is cut short by an surprised hiss as something now pokes against the back of your pants. You look over your shoulder and have to move your wings aside to see part of a nubby gray growth poking out near the base of your spine. You smile at the sight of this growth but also at the growth of your rear, plumping and pressing against the confines of your too loose and now too tight pants. Without a second thought, you let your pants drop, leaving you in your underwear and boots and revealing legs now scaled in gray and beginning to shrink to more slender proportions while also stretching to longer lengths. You think about discarding your underwear too, but your boots demand your attention now, your throbbing feet telling you that there's something going on there too. You hiss in annoyance, wondering what to focus on first. You were enjoying just squeezing your breasts and feeling your hips stretch apart, but now it seemed that all of you wanted to become that apparition.

<No.>

You shook your head. No was right. You weren't becoming that apparition, you were becoming you, and that meant many more changes, changes that you now welcomed. After all, that apparition, that image in your mind of a creature both draconic and feminine was what you were meant to be.

With your boots still on, you awkwardly shake off your pants, stepping out of them before kneeling down on one knee. You notice your breasts wobble at this motion, and you look at your bosom, pleased to see that your bust matches those smooth, round orbs of the apparition, firm and feminine. You are pleased, but your delight is overshadowed like your fear once was by something else, a feeling of desire and greed.

The thought was odd, but you nod anyways and immediately feel the warmth suffuse your chest. You hiss in delight at the sight of your breasts swelling only larger, now bigger than you had seen on your apparition, seen on yourself. It takes everything to not reach up and grope them now, but you focus on unlacing your boots. You are too late, however, as your feet quite literally burst from your shoes, the three talons you now own on each foot no longer willing to be contained. You snort and begin to pull at the scraps of your ruined shoes, throwing them off and away to reveal feet that are larger and grayer scaled than you remember, your three toes thicker and tougher and possessing long, dark talons that are quite sharp if their shoe shredding means anything. You flex your altered feet, curling and uncurling your toes before you you get to your feet, or more like stumble around in an attempt to stand. You catch yourself on a nearby wall, leaning into it and wondering what's wrong, at least until your feet subtly alter, your heels lifting off the ground while your toes touch firmly down, claws clicking impatiently. As you push yourself off the wall, you find this isn't enough, and you still feel unbalanced. You look over your shoulder and snarl at the sight of your tail, still just a stub. Why wasn't it growing?

What did that voice...what did you mean by that? Encouragement? You stare at your nubby tail while a claw unconsciously goes to your breasts. They since stopped swelling, but that warmth still lingers and you want to feel now that they're larger and perky. Your claw comes into contact and you squeeze and shiver with a hissing moan, your manhood throbbing against. Your manhood, your member, your cock--not a thing meant to be on a dragoness and not what you saw when you examined yourself as you should be. It needs to go, but your tail needs to grow. It's an odd thought, and yet perhaps that is the solution?

<Yes.>

You nod, sliding your underwear down hips that are now wide and womanly. You discard that last piece of clothing and now stand nude, your gray scaled reptilian body on display for all to see, but all was just you and her. No, you and you--no, just you! You look down at your manhood, and it looks stiff and ugly while your nubby tail looks small and pathetic, though you can't help but admire your thick rump. You want, no, need a thick tail and a tight, plush slit ready to take whatever was offered.

<Well, what are you waiting for?>

What are you waiting for? You quickly grab your member with both hands and--what? What do you intend to do? You're not sure, and then it comes to you, like a flash of inspiration from one mind to another, but that's a silly thought. There's no one here but you, since you are you and this last remaining part, this stiff rod that you cradle in your claws, why, it's just the last remnant of something you no longer are. Or was it something you never were? At this point, you're not sure, only sure that you want to be complete, to be that dragoness that you saw, the dragoness that is you.

<Push.>

And so you push on your member, and surprisingly it shudders and shrinks, withdrawing in between your legs while your thighs thicken around it, toned and pleasing. Surprisingly? No, this is expected, as is the stretching sensation of your tail surging behind you, but this is only the start.

<More.>

You hiss and push again, shivering at the sensation of your masculinity waning while your tail thickens.Your shaft is now half of its previous size and your testicles have drawn up tight against your scaled crotch. Your tail begins to sway behind you, slapping against your rear while white, bony ridges start to poke out from the top of the tail's scaly hide. Your shrunken member drips its arousal, and you desperately want to get off as you have before, but you remain steady, slickened claws only slightly curling and prodding at your increasingly sensitive shaft.

<More.>

You press with even more force this time, and you hear a wet rip as your testicles slide up and into a freshly formed slit. It quivers and your shrunken shaft pulls up too, now scarcely able to be clutched in your claws and now oh so sensitive as it drips pathetic clear spurts of your dwindling masculinity. Behind you, your tail thickens and extends, now able to touch the ground as it flops against the floor, excited to be almost complete. You look down and shiver, your nipples stiff and erect while what remains of your manhood softens, though only momentarily before becoming harder and all the more sensitive. It slips between your claws and you're only able to keep it pinched between a set of your foreclaws as your slit throbs, feminine scaled cleft thickening and splitting, the lips of your womanhood that same shade of dark gray as your nipples. You want to reach up and squeeze your breasts, but you keep your claws near your cleft for now, because there's still more to do, and now you know what to do.

"More!" you hiss in conjunction with your mind.

You prod as what was once your manhood spasms before shrinking further down into a nubby little gray clit, tense and sensitive. It only has to move a little bit to take its proper place nestled near the top of your slit, your feminine lips plumping before spreading slightly, a bead of arousal dripping between your slick slit. You hiss your approval, a hiss that stretches out into a moan as your tail likewise stretches, extending longer and longer until it finally just stops, ridged length whipping back around to give your rounded rump a solid smack. You yelp and rub your stinging rear, looking back to stare in admiration at your ridged tail. It was thicker than you had seen yourself with, but what was wrong with that? After all, you had asked for more.

<More...>

More? You pause, puzzled. What else more could you ask for? You look over yourself. You stand tall and proud on long, shapely legs as a dragoness should, your dark talons planted firmly into the ground, your clawed hands on your hips while your thick tail sways behind you and your bony wings protrusions extend to their full span. Your scaled hide is grey and smooth, tough and with a little bit of gloss that shines slightly even in this dreary place. Your draconic snout stretches in front of your vision, and it holds a smile, a smile that only grows as you go over your more feminine characteristics, your firm, rounded rear, your plump breasts, wide hips, toned, thick thighs and tight, wet slit between your legs. This is good, this is what you wanted when you saw it, no, this is you and yet--

<More...>

More, that voice--no, you want more. More what? Pleasure and sensation to feed that part of you that demands to feel what it hasn't felt in so long and, as you look down at your slightly spread slit, you realize why this is. You can't recall the last time you pleasured yourself. It feels like either centuries or never, and yet neither of those seem quite right, and yet--

"More," you hiss, and now you know what more means. You let out a hissing chuckle as you will your tail to move and it obeys, curling around your rump and under your legs to be caught by your clawed hands. It wriggles in excitement, but stills as you glance between its tip to your slit. You nod and fall to your knees, remaining still for a moment as you consider how to do this.

Then you start, slowly guiding the tip of your thick tail towards your slit, tail shivering slightly and slit pulsing as both come closer and closer. You begin to breathe faster and shallower, heart beating rapidly in anticipation of what was to come next. Still, you don't start just yet, merely enjoying the feeling of your slit quivering with excitement while your tail does likewise. You flick your tongue out, and can taste your own arousal in the air.

<In.>

You obey yourself without question, pressing the tip of your tail into your slit. You shudder at this initial contact and your tail shivers too, but you don't let it surge in as it wants to, as you want to. No, you keep control, guiding your tip gently into yourself, spreading yourself slowly until the tip touches the warmth of your inner walls and you feel that first clamping pulse. Then you let your tail thrust in, and you immediately hiss out a moan, hips thrusting as you pleasure yourself for the first time as a female.

The first time? No, that can't be quite right, because--

<Focus.>

You hiss your assent, but some uncertainty still remains.

Any confusion is swept away by a wave of lust and arousal and pure pleasure, especially as your tail thrusts again. Your whole frame shudders this time, breasts bobbing and wings flapping madly. Your claws fall away from your tail, no longer needed there but elsewhere, rising to reach up and grope at your full breasts. You squeeze, and this caress of your sensitive flesh only amplifies your pleasure while you relentlessly thrust into yourself, tail digging deeper and deeper into a hungry hole that seems to want only more and more. You are focused now, certainly focused on fucking, and you dip your head to help yourself a little more, long tongue flicking out to to twirl and tease at a stiff, sensitive nipple. The intensity of your thrusts increases as does your motions and moans with you squeezing and groping your breasts to match every motion of your tail moving in and out, every stretch of your inner passage met by a powerful pulse of pleasure. One hand drifts away from your breasts back to your stuffed slit, this time rubbing at your clit while your tongue continue to alternate between teasing and flicking your nipples. Your arousal builds up, and the prurient pleasure of it is all encompassing, making you forget your question of whether this was your first tail fucking or your thousandth, for why did it matter? It feels good, it feels right, and it feels like you because it was you who is helping you. This is you and this will do.

Finally your tail can thrust no further lest you fall flat on your snout, breasts, or both from the shudders of pleasure it brought to your scaled shape. You feel so close, so ready to climax, and yet you need more, more, more--

<More.>

--and so you keep on going, relentlessly thrusting in and out yourself until it's a pleasurable, comfortable rhythm of out and in, in and out, hisses and moans and groans mixed with clit and tit teasing and prodding until you finally make it to climax.

You shriek, snout falling open and your vision blurring before becoming clear as your eyes shift to slits, your pupil and iris the same shade of glowing red while your tail digs deeply into your stuffed slit as you achieve orgasm, your body meeting pleasure while mind meets mind. You nearly collapse there in a mess of pleasure, but you are no neophyte to this sort of stuff, so you stay strong, moaning and hissing and shivering as you take your claws away from their other activities to grab at your quivering tail. It's still firmly in there, but with strong pulls of your still shaking arms you are able to make it budge and so slowly, ever so slowly does your tail start to pull out from your slit, each inch of retreat met with your inner walls clamping down desperately to keep it there and milk it for every moment of pleasure it was worth, and it was certainly worth it. Each second of sustained pleasure had another effect as well, spiderwebbed lines of red tracing through your gray scales, warmly pleasant and pulsing with the power that you rightfully possessed. With this final alteration, you now truly resemble the dragoness that you held in your mind, that you have always been. Sure, you are a bit bustier, you have a rounder rump, and are gifted with a thicker tail, but you had become you because you--

You are you.

Through the haze of the afterglow you think this, and it causes you to smile, your glowing red eyes glowing with an equal mixture of triumph and mischief. You are you, you were you, and you are pleased by this, more than pleased if your current state says anything about your self love.

Finally your tail comes free from your slit with one last shuddering pulse of pleasure. It flops to the floor, slick and seemingly exhausted, then rises and quivers before sliding back underneath you and to above your rump. It gives your neglected rear a slap and you squeal, before hissing and glaring at your tail. It sways in amusement and you smile before collapsing on your rear. You pant, also exhausted yet energized by your latest session, but most of all pleased, pleased by this possession.

You pause and expect something to speak in your mind, but in there is only you. Who else would there be? You chuckle and hiss softly as you get to your taloned feet, slowly walking over to the fallen chalice, your claws clicking all the while and the aftermath of your recent self pleasuring dripping down your toned thighs. You pick it up with one clawed hand while holding the other out, palm facing upwards. The red veins of power glow briefly, and shadows gather upon your palm. You hear a familiar chuckle that seems to echo through the halls and you swear a red eye winks at you from the mass of shadows, but then the shadows writhe and surge into the chalice. You wink back at the chalice and place it upon the altar.

Just as you turn away from the altar, you hear footsteps followed by murmuring. You look and see an armored man stooped down, examining torn and tattered garments. He seems confused why they're there, but you don't give them a thought, instead wondering what to do with the man. Well, there could always be more of you, couldn't there?

You smile sardonically and step towards the man, your tail swaying along with your hips. Apparently he hears your claws clicking against the floor and looks up, his eyes widening at the sight of you. Your smile deepens as his hand goes for his weapon, knowing that even without the chalice he won't be fast or strong enough to resist being you, and why would anyone resist you anyways? You hiss out a chuckle and extend a clawed hand towards him, your crimson eyes glowing as brightly as the veins of power that wreath your form.

"Yes," you say. "You will do."

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