FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

This story was anonymously commissioned, and uses some characters provided by the client. The client initially wished for this story to remain private, but I convinced him to let me post it here. As always, feel free to share your thoughts below in the comments.

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"Mmmmrrrrgh..." Sydran awoke bleary-eyed and bare-chested to the golden glow of dawn filtering into his tent. The bright light made him groan and roll over, but after a few moments, he realized there was stuff that needed doing. The black dragon heaved himself into a sitting position before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, stretching his wings out behind him. After a small yawn, he was about to get up when he realized he was pretty stiff in the pants, with his cock all the way out and pitching a tent in the fabric. He reached down and slipped one paw under his waistband, giving his throbbing member a few teasing strokes; he'd had another dream about the passionate night he'd shared with Bubba a week ago, and the memory had become crystal clear in his mind. Maybe he could just rub one out real quick and start his day off with something pleasant.

With one hand he slowly reached down, pulled down his pants and underwear, and whipped out his cock. There were little sticky stains on his underwear, and his spade-shaped glans was already leaking a tiny bead of precum. As his paw wrapped around his dick, he could feel it throb, begging for sweet release. He gave it a few good strokes, sending a little electric tingle through it as he debated going all the way. He could definitely get himself off within a couple minutes with all the pent-up arousal in his groin... but he probably shouldn't. The question of where his cum would go popped into his mind: he didn't really want a bunch of drying jizz stinking up his tent, his hard-on would be gone by the time he got out into the woods, and his body felt just tired and sore enough that he didn't feel like sucking himself off. "Ehh, maybe later," he grumbled, tucking his erection back into his pants. He had plenty of things on his to-do list today, and jerking off wasn't one of them.

It took him a minute to get his clothes back on, then another twenty to go to Gavin's cafe and properly wake himself up. He noticed the group of four drakes wasn't there that morning, which didn't really surprise him; they'd stopped showing up at the cafe ever since they'd gotten thrown in the stocks for his beating, and the few times he'd seen them, they'd just slinked away with hate in their eyes. Part of him wished they'd start something just so he'd have an excuse to fry their asses, but the sensible portion of his mind knew that'd only bring wrath upon his own head.

Once he'd gotten adequately prepared, he made his way past the mostly empty training grounds and toward the three half-built houses on the edge of town; a few days after their little romp, Bubba had assigned him to the group of builders trying to create some permanent housing. Sydran never got an official reason, but he knew from the way the burly commander bashfully avoided his gaze that Bubba couldn't stop thinking of the little ass-pounding he'd received. On paper, Sydran was still part of the militia, but he couldn't be part of any training exercises and had the same restrictions as civilians when it came to using weapons. Still, he didn't mind. He actually kind of liked working with the builders, and as he passed by one construction site his heart swelled a bit with pride: he recognized the wall that he'd spent most of yesterday working on, as well as the foundations he'd laid in his first few days on the job.

After quickly scanning the area, he saw his boss, a tall green dragon by the name of Nestor. He was looking over a drafting table, drawing out what seemed like a floor plan with a charcoal pencil and a straightedge. Nestor wore a gilded green vest and some simple brown trousers, topped with a belt holding all sorts of gear. Sydran recognized rulers, compasses, and other drafting equipment, but the green dragon also had a fair number of tools for hands-on carpentry and masonry. From what little he shared of his past, Sydran knew he'd initially been a sculptor before the dragons had been forced to flee, and the exquisite small busts and sculptures he sometimes worked on were excellent proof of it.

Nestor looked up from his work as the black dragon approached, his stoic expression blank as always. "Sydran, finally up I see. Ready to get to work?"

"Yes sir," Sydran replied. The leader of the builders commanded just as much respect as Bubba, partially because of his background as a master artisan and partially because of his cool, collected demeanor. He always seemed to know just what to do in any given situation, and under his orders, the builders worked together like a well-oiled machine. "Should I continue working on the longhouse, maybe see if I can finish up the first floor?"

The green dragon turned back to the drawings in front of him, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "That depends; do you have any experience with architecture?"

Sydran decided to scan over the floor plans, wondering what exactly Nestor had been working on. Back on his homeworld, Sydran had once taken a class in architecture to chase some guy he was looking to bang, and now the old lessons were starting to creep back to the forefront of his mind. "Well, a little bit," he replied, "What'd you have in mind?"

Nestor stepped back from the drawings, ushering Sydran in so he could get a better look. "I need someone to proofread these to make sure they're fully stable; no one here has any formal training in designing actual buildings, and I'm no exception." As Sydran gave the first drawing on the pile a more thorough inspection, he started seeing little mistakes popping out, like a vulnerable column or an unsupported floor. "If you feel confident in your abilities, it would also be helpful if you could try drafting up some of your own ideas; that'd free me up to work on the actual construction since most of the crew is unskilled labor. Interested?"

"Yeah, sure." The black dragon picked up a pencil from the drafting board and adjusted it to his height, then began scribbling down the various corrections and improvements he'd thought up. It didn't take long for him to get into the swing of things, and he quickly finished one drawing before moving on to the next.

"Excellent. Bring me whatever you have at midday, and I'll see if they'll work."

"Yes, sir." Feeling that that young dragon had a handle on things, Nestor paced off to apply his expertise elsewhere. He wasn't that good at design, but when it came to the actual building of things, there wasn't anyone better in the village. Sydran, meanwhile, quickly became focused on the task assigned; he quickly finished editing the original plans and began designing stuff on his own, trying to translate the modern techniques he'd learned into archaic stone and wood. It was a challenge, sure, but with a few scraps of learning and his natural ingenuity, he was able to pull it off. In between breaks of random doodling, he managed to create plans for quite a few different buildings, both standard domiciles and more complex edifices. In addition, he toyed with some ideas on simple machines that could make life a bit easier. Maybe he could create a rudimentary clock or perhaps a more efficient method for moving heavy building materials around. He even entertained the concept of a crude hydro-electric generator, but the only thing it would be able to power was him.

Once the sun reached its peak in the sky, he gathered up his drawings and headed for Nestor's "office," a somewhat larger tent on the side of town closest to the new construction. Sydran found him at his desk, putting the final touches on what appeared to be a little sculpture of an owl. The green dragon pushed it to the side with his other little projects once Sydran arrived, and motioned for him to put the sketches down on the table. Once he did so, Nestor looked began looking through them with a focused stare, occasionally making approving comments when he saw something of interest. It all went smoothly until he got to the less conventional drawings, his brow furrowing in confusion. He turned one of the sheets around, asking, "Sydran, what exactly is this?"

The sketch was of a sort of crossbow, fitted with a kind of crank that'd allow the string to be easily pulled back and a clip that'd hold extra quarrels. Beside the technical drawings was a little doodle of Sydran operating the device, firing a shot into a round thing that might have been an apple. "It's an arbalest, sir," Sydran replied, "In theory, it'd be much easier to aim than your average bow, and the arrows would hit three times as hard."

Nestor raised one eyebrow before moving onto the next drawing. "And what would this be, some kind of water mill?"

"That's a hydroelectric generator, sir; you put the wheel in a river, and it turns the rotation into electricity. On its own, it's pretty useless, but if I had the right materials, I could make some interesting stuff that works with it."

"Hmm." Nestor's eyes went wide as he looked down at the next drawing, and he held it up with an expression somewhere between confusion and disgust. It was a rough sketch depicting a buff dragon wearing nothing but a hard hat and a winning smile, who had a prominent erection that'd make a stallion jealous. The words "Work hard, play hard!" were printed below, and the dragon's cheery thumbs-up was the icing on the cake.

"I, ahh..." Sydran quickly and painfully remembered that he'd grabbed all his work when he'd left, including the doodles destined for the garbage or his spank bank. He snatched the pile of drawings off Nestor's desk and hastily sorted through them, pulling out a few he knew wouldn't earn much approval. After he laid the collection back down, his boss rolled up the smutty sketch and handed it to the young dragon, then continued through the drawings as if nothing had happened. It took him a few minutes to get through the rest of them, asking a few clarifying questions along the way, and once he was done, he seemed reasonably pleased.

"Well, despite your... lapse in professionalism, you've done good work today. I'll be sure to get the rest of the builders familiarized with your floor plans, and if you'd like, I can send your less conventional ideas over to the smithy." Nestor stood up and extended one paw, which Sydran took and shook with pride. When he pulled back his hand, however, he realized the bigger dragon had slipped something into his palm and opened his claws to see three yellow gems. "Consider it a bonus," Nestor said, "And expect more to come if you keep up this level of productivity."

Sydran was about to thank him when he heard the tent flaps rustle, and both he and Nestor turned to see a young grey drake in militia armor enter. "Sydran?" he called out, and the black dragon quickly recognized private Perkins from the mock battle.

"Perkins? What are you doing here?" Sydran had no clue what the private wanted from him: they weren't really friends, and as far as he knew, Sydran wasn't part of the militia anymore.

After throwing up a hasty salute to Nestor, Perkins did his best to answer the question. "Well, ah, the scouts just got back, and, ah... you know the fugitive you went after, Jayron?" Sydran stiffened up at the mention of his name, a thirst for vengeance swelling in his chest. "He, ah... well, the scouts say they know where he is now, and... well, Bubba's picking people to go after him. Just thought you should know..."

"Thanks, Perkins." Before the private could reply, Sydran was out of the tent, sprinting into flight and heading for the training grounds. He was going to get this bastard alone; no one else was going to die for his mistakes. When he got to the field, he saw Bubba standing in front of an assembled group of militia. He caught the end of the speech as he landed just outside the area.

"...slipped through our claws before, so keep a sharp eye. Are there any volunteers?" A few paws in the crowd raised up, but before Bubba could pick one, Sydran pushed his way to the front of the group.

"Let me go, sir," he said, "I screwed this up once, and I want to make things right."

Everyone there looked toward him, and Bubba almost seemed to glare at him. "Sydran, what do you think you're doing?" he growled, "You're assigned to the builders, not the active militia."

"But I'm still militia, and I'm not bragging when I say I'm one of the better fighters among it." He turned toward the crowd, raising his arms with palms up. "I'm sure we all remember the mock battle last week, don't we?" He got a few approving nods from those who'd been in the black army, and some of his former opponents betrayed flustered expressions.

Bubba was hardly swayed. "Sydran, I know you've got plenty of reason, but-"

"But what? If I didn't know better, I'd say you had the hots for me, keeping me off the front lines like that." A few slight chuckles sounded from the crowd, and Sydran smirked as Bubba realized the implication. If their little romp ever got made public, he'd be the one to suffer the most for it, seeing as how he was the one with a massive reputation to protect. Sydran didn't actually plan on going through with the threat, but he knew the extra leverage would get what he wanted. "Come on, what have you got to lose by sending an outsider?"

After a short, scowling glare, Bubba looked down and back to Sydran with a softened expression. "Alright, fine. Who do you want as your team?"

"No one, I'm doing this alone." There were a few murmurs and one half-heard snide comment about Roland, but no one voiced any real objections.

At first, Bubba seemed like he'd shoot the idea down immediately, but after a moment his face softened again, a tiny grin spreading across his maw. "Very well! Report to Rhudaria for the travel details, and skip lunch, she'll give you something there. Dismissed!"

The crowd gradually dispersed, and Sydran headed for the tent of the local alchemist/witch/soothsayer. He'd only seen her a few times, but he knew from reputation that she was an outsider like him who arrived three years ago. When he stepped through the tent flap, he saw the slim purple dragoness bent over a chemistry bench, mixing some kind of potion. She was muttering something under her breath, which Sydran had found was something of a habit for her. "Two grams... a pinch of thyme... mmhmm, yes, there we go." She seemed to finish up whatever it is she was doing and suddenly turned around, offering a corked bottle of greenish liquid with one extended paw. Her stained white apron, grey dress, and thick leather gloves made her look almost like some kind of mad scientist, and Sydran could see his confused reflection in her shiny black goggles. Her expression changed to match his own, getting the slightest bit softer as she pulled the goggles up onto her forehead. "Only one? Hmm."

Sydran hesitantly took the bottle from her, wondering what exactly it was. "So, you're going to get me to where Jayron is hiding out, right? Are we gonna get going right away, or..."

"Drink that." Rhudaria moved over to a chest and grabbed a few things, then brought them over to Sydran as he uncorked the bottle. The fluid within smelled horrible, somewhere between skunk weed and ammonia.

"What exactly is this stuff?" he asked, wondering how vital it was that he attempted to force it down.

"Prevents nausea. You'll want it for the trip."

Seeing as how the potion looked more like it'd cause nausea, Sydran decided to set down the bottle and instead take the gear she was offering. There was a simple rapier, a slightly frilly dress shirt, a renaissance-looking doublet, some medieval-style trousers, a short cape designed to cover one shoulder, a small wooden box painted with gold runes, and a delicately engraved signet ring depicting a thorny rose, all of which he took with a slight bit of hesitation. She continued to stare at him for a moment, waiting for him to change, but finally remembered to turn around just as he was about to say something.

"Hey, Rhudaria, what're the clothes for?" Sydran asked as he pulled on the pants.

"Disguise. You're going to a different world and need to blend in."

Sydran had just buttoned up the shirt when he realized something about what she'd just said. "Wait, 'going to a different world?' You mean like how I got here?"

"Yes."

"So there might be a way-"

The shorter dragoness whirled around, meeting his eyes with an intensity that he didn't think she was capable of. "No. I've tried. 673 trials, 673 failures. You can't go back."

After a moment of silence, he finally shrugged on the crimson doublet, put the cape on his left shoulder, slipped the ring onto his middle claw, and tucked the box into his pocket. He did his best not to snatch at the vain hope that he might one day find his way home, instead focusing on the task at hand. After inspecting the razor-sharp blade, he buckled the rapier onto his hip and adjusted it to his liking. "So, where is this place I'll be going? Is it anything like here?"

"City called Málaga. Slightly more advanced, cleaner, and urban, very little magic. Common language there different, few will understand you." Rhudaria suddenly walked out of the tent, grabbing a small satchel and motioning for Sydran to follow. She began leading him down the main road, keeping a quick walking pace that was almost a jog. "Pretend to be foreign noble, ask around for someone similar to you. Jayron had company of mercenaries and gnorcs, should leave heavy trail." The dragoness lead him all the way out of town and into the woods, following no roads or trails that Sydran recognized. He was just starting to wonder whether she actually had a destination when they came upon a large, arcane-looking archway, seemingly built from a single piece of granite.

The thing was easily ten feet tall, and Sydran marveled at the intricate designs carved into it while Rhudaria walked up nonchalantly. She pulled out something from her satchel with one paw while tracing glowing symbols in the air with her other, chanting strange syllables that Sydran didn't understand in the slightest. Then she tossed whatever it was into the gateway, causing it to suddenly flash with blinding light and emit a low electric hum that reverberated through the air. As the dragoness continued to chant and gesture, the light receded and the humming died down, eventually revealing the slightly shimmering scene of a dark, seemingly abandoned church from behind the pulpit. What little illumination there was streamed through boarded up and broken windows, and every horizontal surface was dusty with disuse. "There," Rhudaria said in her typical monotone, "Go through and find your quarry, return by tossing the box through the arch."

Sydran looked at the gate, then to the dragoness, and finally through the portal. The view through it seemed distorted, wavery, and slightly discolored, and the black dragon somehow felt he'd get somehow scrambled if he stepped through. "You sure this is safe?" he asked, taking a slight step back as he pondered what grisly fate might wait on the other side.

"Perfectly. Only side effect is nausea, and that passes within a minute." The dragoness crossed her arms and began to tap her foot impatiently when he remained still, and tilted her head to one side like a scolding mother. "Would implying cowardice help you move?" she asked, and Sydran looked back at her with one raised eyebrow. "Only cowards fear portals," she suddenly said, "Are you a coward?"

"Just... gimme a second." Sydran exhaled sharply, trying to psyche himself up and bury the thought of getting ripped apart on the atomic level, then stepped up to the portal and swallowed. The slight humming lurked just at the edge of his hearing, instilling a sort of uneasiness that he couldn't easily describe. Alright, he thought to himself, all he had to do was take one step forward. Just one step and he'd be-WHOA!

Rhudaria gave him a swift shove, and he stumbled straight through the portal before catching himself on the pulpit. He was just about to turn and berate the crazy bitch when a wave of nausea washed over him, making him double over and dry heave as the portal flashed shut. It took about half a minute for him to fully recover, and by then the only sound left in the church was his own breathing. "Goddamnit," he muttered, stepping down off the pulpit's raised pedestal before looking back. A large mural of a crucified lion covered the wall just behind the arch, and on either side were a pair of empty brass candelabras. The pulpit's front was adorned with a metal cross, and standing in front of that was an alms box on a wooden table. He was about to see if it had anything in it when the front doors swung open, and Sydran turned to see three robed figures framed in the light of midmorning.

"Este es el lugar," said the lead figure, who had a bulky silhouette and a wide-brimmed hat. "Estén en guardia, el diablo puede estar trabajando en estas sombras." The three figures took a couple of steps into the church before one closed the door behind them, and a few moments later one of the others spotted Sydran standing before the pulpit.

"Mira, otro dragón negro! ¿Cómo él entró aquí sin la llave?" Now that sunlight wasn't at their backs, Sydran could make out more of the figures: the lead one was a brown bear, the one who had closed the door looked to be an ibex, and the one pointing one accusing hoof at him was a swine. All of them wore a silver cross necklace over red robes, and the two subordinates had on hoods instead of hats.

The ibex turned to look as well, and all three members of the group seemed to tense up for a fight. "Quizás sea un agente del diablo," he cried, "Enviado del infierno para ayudar a los extranjeros! Seguramente una criatura tan siniestra no puede ser de Dios!"

Not wanting to kill the first people he met in this new world, especially if they were clergy, Sydran put up his hands as non-confrontationally as possible. "Whoa, whoa, I come in peace, alright? No need for this to get violent. Do any of you speak English?"

The bear stepped forward, still acting like Sydran might lash out at any moment. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?" His buddies were subtly reaching for weapons, but the black dragon guessed he could zap them both before they could attack.

"My name is-" He was about to say Sydran, but it was then that he remembered something Rhudalia had said: "Pretend to be foreign noble, ask around for someone similar to you." He grabbed the first medieval-sounding name that popped into his mind, something he'd heard in a corny straight-to-TV movie. "-Lord Gilbert of Blackwater, and I've come in search of my brother. Who might you be?"

The three exchanged a few glances and hushed words, hardly relaxing. "We are members of the holy inquisition," the bear replied, "Tasked with rooting out the devil wherever he may be found. We have heard of several foreigners exiting this church without ever entering, and the one leading them was a black dragon. Like you." His eyes narrowed with suspicion, and Sydran began wondering how he'd explain suddenly appearing in an abandoned church.

Still, despite this hostility, Sydran lowered his hands and casually walked down the center aisle. "Excellent! Do you know where my brother has gone? I so dearly miss him, and-" The dragon stopped in his tracks as the lead inquisitor pulled out a mace, brandishing it at Sydran with full intent to use it.

"Stay right there, foreigner, you're coming with us." The bear pulled out a pair of rusty iron manacles with his free paw, and Sydran had seen enough documentaries on extremists to know what came next. Since he didn't intend to spend his afternoon getting tortured, the black dragon subtly readied himself for conflict.

"I really don't want any trouble, guys," Sydran pleaded, "Just let me walk out of here in peace, and nobody has to get hurt." He raised his hands above his head, slowly taking a step backward as he focused his internal battery.

The leader didn't stop for a moment, and the ibex pulled out a mace as well before beginning to advance. Mr. Piggy brought out some kind of tome and started to read from it, and Sydran got the feeling he was being read his rights. "Por el poder que Dios y el Papa nos otorgan, te arrestamos por cargos de asociación con personas sospechosas, sospechas de culto al diablo, sospechas de profanación y sospechas de brujería. Obedece y se te concederá misericordia; resistir y serás castigado."

Sydran waited until the bear was a few feet from him, then shot a single bolt of lightning into his chest, sending the inquisitor flying backward with a smoking hole in his robes. As soon as he fell, the ibex let out a spirited battle cry and charged, raising his mace with zealous determination. He swung the flanged head downward, but Sydran ducked out of the way, retaliating with a right hook to the jaw. The ibex reeled, and the black dragon grabbed him by the shoulder, drove the heel of his hand into the inquisitor's windpipe, then finished him off with a solid elbow to the face.

After seeing his two companions go down in less than ten seconds, the final inquisitor's pious determination was quickly overshadowed by a concern for self-preservation. He turned and fled, but he'd only made it halfway to the door before Sydran grabbed the ibex's dropped mace and hurled it at the fleeing pig, striking him in the back of his head. The swine fell to the ground unconscious, and the black dragon began moving toward the massive front doors of the church. "I try to be nice," Sydran muttered, "And look what you idiots made me do. 'Oh he's a dragon, he must be evil!' Goddamn primitive screwheads." He gave the recovering bear a swift kick to the jaw, sending a few pointed teeth flying across the stone floor and making him slump to the ground. Sydran grabbed a small key from his red robes, then advanced to the exit and left the church. He made sure to lock the heavy, iron-banded doors behind him, just in case the inquisitors decided they wanted some payback after they all woke up.

Sydran turned around to see a bustling, Renaissance-era street, with several people giving him weird looks or just outright staring. A slight scent of salt and seaweed was on the wind, but it was mostly overpowered by the smell of the bakery right in front of the church. Looking around, he saw a few other shops on the other side of the street, a few of which seemed shady enough to sell information. He quickly decided on a spice shop with a moderately tarnished sign and crossed the street to it while straightening his doublet. The person who greeted him was a sly-looking lynx in a black cap, who swiftly looked Sydran over like he was sizing up a mark. "Ah, bienvenido, señor!" he cheerily exclaimed, "Cómo puedo ayudarte?"

The black dragon crossed his arms over his chest, trying to appear pompously rich and very impatient. "Do you speak English?" he sneered, "I won't waste my time with someone who doesn't understand me."

The lynx's smile widened to a worrying degree. "Oh, yes, yes, of course, good sir." He pulled out a small jar of mysterious green herbs from under the counter, which looked suspiciously like grass trimmings to Sydran. "May I interest you in some fine sage? Imported fresh from the Mediterranean, it is-"

"I don't care about herbs, I want information. There was another dragon who came through here, where did he go?"

Sydran didn't think the merchant's smile could get wider, but it did. "Oh, I'm sorry, sir, but my memory isn't good... I believe they went that way, but... I can't be all that certain."

Without hesitation, sydran reached into his pouch and pulled out a single red gem. He could practically see the dollar signs in the lynx's eyes as he held it up in the sun, letting the light shine off the blood-red facets. "This is a four-carat ruby, easily enough to set someone like you up for months. Now, if you honestly can't remember anything else, I'm going to have to find someone-"

"The other dragon came through about an hour ago, accompanied by five unmarked wolf mercenaries and seventeen green-skinned creatures, all of whom were armed and in medium-quality armor. The dragon himself had a lot of bottles on him, maybe some kind of alchemist or apothecary. He mentioned going to a warehouse by the docks for some kind of shipment but didn't mention what the shipment contained or who the buyer was. The dragon and his followers went that way and took a left on Calle de San Pablo, but one of the wolves took a right."

"Alright, and how do I get to the docks from here?"

"Go right, right again on San Pablo, left on Banquero, then go straight until you reach San Andrés. Most of the warehouses are along there, although there is one up near the crossing of Fortuna and San Pedro."

Sydran smiled, then tossed the gem to the lynx, which he caught with deft paws. "Thank you very much, your help is much appreciated."

As the black dragon started off down the street, the merchant leaned out of his shop and waved him goodbye. "Adiós, good sir! Best luck on your hunt!"

With a good idea on where to go, Sydran set off, doing his best to blend in despite the glances he was getting. He had just turned onto Banquero when he was approached by two soldiers, a wolf and a bear, both clad in breastplates, padded gambesons, and round helmets. They both gave off a cop-ish vibe, reinforced by the blue-and-yellow coat of arms on their slightly filthy tabards. "Disculpe, señor," said the wolf, "Es usted de una ciudad diferente?"

After a moment, Sydran turned fully toward the two soldiers, putting one paw on his hip as he attempted to look inconvenienced. "Excuse me? What'd you say to me?"

The wolf looked confused, but his partner seemed to understand at least a little bit of English "Ah... we wish to know if you are foreigner."

Sydran just stared at him incredulously for a few seconds. "Oh no," he sarcastically said, "Why, I was raised just over there." The two guards looked at each other, obviously confused, and the black dragon decided to release his inner dickhead noble. "Of course I'm not from around here, you half-witted fleabag, do I sound Spanish?" He held up three claws in their faces, the middle of which had the signet ring on it. "I am Edmund Blackrose, lord of Newerth! Read between the lines, you incompetent oaf!"

After a moment of angry staring, the bear raised his hands peaceably. "I apologize, sir. If it does not offend you, may we ask your business in Málaga?"

"Of course it offends me, my business is my own! Good day!" He made a big show of storming off and angrily adjusting his shoulder cape. Of course, once he'd put a fair bit of distance between him and the soldiers, he started cracking up, much to the confusion of those around him. He'd wholly earned at least a good slap to the face, but apparently messing with royalty was a bit too risky in the city of Málaga. It was nice that the tent-village didn't have any real tyrants who'd chop your head off for sneezing in their direction, just a small council who kept to themselves.

Sydran continued down Banquero and arrived in a bustling plaza, on one side of which was a massive bank with a bunch of columns. It seemed like this was where the cart shops gathered, as well as the proselytizers, the commoners... and a few suspicious looking individuals. Two figures caught his eye, both of whom looked shady, with scruffy-looking armor and swords strapped to their hips. One of them was a wolf... maybe the one who split off from Jayron's gang? Sydran began walking toward the two when suddenly the wolf glanced over his friend's shoulder and met his gaze. His dull yellow eyes went wide with surprise, and he remained stunned for a split second before hightailing it away from the dragon.

The wolf's companion didn't realize why he was running until Sydran shoved past him, sprinting after the lupine before bounding into flight. With a few flaps of his wings, he managed to get above most of the plaza's crowds and stalls, but despite this advantage, he had a hard time keeping up with his quarry. The mongrel was fast, and it didn't help that he routinely chucked whatever was at hand towards Sydran as he flew. One particularly hefty iron pan almost managed to knock him out of the sky, but he kept on flying with belligerent determination. Sydran tried firing off a bolt of lightning, but missed by a hair and struck the cobblestones. His second shot got thrown off by a knife suddenly flying toward his face, and as he dodged out of the way, his bolt hit some poor bastard's vegetable cart.

"Stop, thief!" Sydran shouted, hoping that the crowd or some soldiers would come to his aid. Someone probably would have helped, had it not been for the dragon flying through the air and slinging bolts of lightning. It didn't matter, though; Sydran was almost on top of the wolf, and as he drew his rapier, he gained a bit of altitude with a few extra flaps. Once he was high enough, he dive-bombed his quarry with rapier extended, skewering the wolf through the shoulder before tackling him to the ground. He tried to wriggle out from under the black dragon, but Sydran swiftly grabbed the hilt of his rapier and used it to pin his victim to the ground. The wolf howled in pain as he twisted the narrow blade, eventually ceasing his struggle and going limp in defeat.

Or at least, that's what Sydran thought he was doing before he pulled a knife from a sheath on his back, stabbing at the dragon and forcing him to dodge back. Sydran retaliated by grabbing the wolf's paw, twisting it backward, then biting down hard on the poor bastard's fingers. He swiftly dropped the knife, which Sydran picked up and tucked into his belt. "Where the hell is he?" the black dragon growled, "Which warehouse?"

"Go to hell," the wolf growled back, "I'm not telling you shit."

His tone quickly changed as the blade in his shoulder twisted, causing him to let out an agonized cry that tapered off into a pitiful whine. "Listen, asshat," Sydran said, "You can either tell me now, or I can bring you over to the inquisition and have them get the answer out of you. Now, I don't much like torturing, but they... well, let's just say they may very well get off to it. They've got thumbscrews, racks, spikey chairs, iron maidens, ass-pyramids, and at least one of those things that stick a bunch of spikes into your dick before chopping it off. If that sort of thing turns you on, then by all means, keep the information to yourself; if you'd rather not spend the last few days of your life in agonizing pain, however..."

"Herrington company warehouse! That's where he is, up by San Pablo and Fortuna; it's got a big yellow heron painted on the front, you can't miss it!" The wolf's voice was twinged with primal fear, almost as if he'd been to a torture chamber at least once.

Sydran broke into a smile, smoothly pulling out his rapier from the wolf's shoulder. "Thanks!" he said, right before smashing the pommel into the back of the lupine's head.

Once he was sure the wolf was unconscious, he stood up to see two soldiers looking at him, the very same ones who he'd berated earlier. "Señor, what has happened?" the bear asked, "Is this the thief?"

The black dragon thought about ranting at them yet again, but he quickly decided that a couple beat cops like them didn't deserve that much shit. "Yes sir, all nice and knocked out for you. Tell me, do you know where the intersection of San Pablo and Fortuna is?"

Both seemed somewhat shocked at his change in demeanor, but the wolf quickly hiked one thumb backward. "Es unas pocas cuadras ahí abajo," he said, which the bear translated to, "It's down that way a few blocks."

"What is there, señor?" the bear asked, "More thieves? We can get more guards and search if you wish, or-"

Sydran shook his head. "No, I'll handle it alone. You guys just keep this mongrel in handcuffs, I'll take care of the rest." Before they could say anything else, he headed off in the direction the wolf had indicated, eager to finally get a rematch with Jayron. It took him a few minutes to reach the warehouse, and when he did, he realized it looked pretty shitty even for a shady hideout; the heron on the front was missing decent chunks from just about everywhere, and the yellow letters spelling "Herrington company" were partially peeled off, making it say "Herrnto copay" instead. The large sliding door at the front had a partially broken window, and Sydran decided to scout out the place before going inside.

Between shelves lined with foreign goods, there was a group of humanoid green-skinned creatures with tusks protruding from their upper lips. Each was busy placing strange objects in wooden crates and barrels, and they all wore crude armor with caveman-like weapons on their belts; Sydran assumed these were the gnorcs he'd heard about, and the menial labor certainly fit their reputation of being both dumb and gullible. Around them stood the four remaining wolves, all of whom looked incredibly bored. There was a large balcony looking over the whole warehouse with a wooden railing ringing it, and on that balcony leaned Jayron. The smug bastard was smoking some kind of pipe, occasionally puffing purple smoke into the air. "Pick up the pace, will you?" he lazily called out to the busy gnorcs, "The clients are going to be here in twenty minutes, and I don't want us getting caught with our pants down."

After scanning the warehouse for a better way in, Sydran found a small side door that opened into a shadowy area hidden by a few shelves. He slipped inside, then tried to figure out how he'd go about doing this. Just running in there was suicide since he'd get swarmed by the gnorcs in seconds, and if they didn't bludgeon him to death, Jayron would probably have something far worse planned for him. Trying to blast his way through could work since the gnorcs might go running at the sight of a lightning-slinging dragon... but there was a good chance they wouldn't, and he didn't have enough juice in him to barbeque all seventeen of them and still be able to fight the wolves. He could go straight for Jayron, just fly up and charge him... but he'd likely have less than a minute before the goons found their way up, and the evil bastard could have some trick up his sleeve that'd make close combat dangerous. There didn't seem an easy way to go about doing this, but... hang on...

One of the jars on the rack he was hiding behind caught his eye, specifically the text on one side: "Advertencia: Muy volátil, no exponer a la llama." Volátil sounded an awful lot like volatile, and there was a little drawing of an explosion right above the text. He popped open the jar's large cork top and was greeted with a slight smell of charcoal, as well as the sight of what kind of looked like black sand. As he ran one claw through it, he recognized it as gunpowder, and a sudden idea sprung to his mind. From the rack, he grabbed some rope, a bit of twine, a small bottle of oil, and a box of cutlery. He first used the rope to tie a bunch of forks, spoons, and knives onto the exterior of the gunpowder jar, then cut a little nick in the jar's cork just big enough to fit a piece of string. Then, he doused a small length of twine with the oil before pressing it into the cork notch, adjusting it so that only a tiny bit was poking out of the top. After that, he replaced the cork so that most of the twine was inside the jar, then hoisted his creation under one arm as he quietly climbed to the top of the rack. Worst case scenario, his little trick didn't go as planned, and the smashing pot made a decent distraction. Best case scenario, his medieval IED would actually go off, and a good portion of the enemy forces would get shredded in a torrent of 23,000 miles-per-hour silverware. Sydran felt a little bit of apprehension as he sparked the crude fuse, letting it run down quite a bit before hurling the jar towards the middle of the gnorcs. He prayed to whatever gods watched over this world as he ducked down behind the top of the shelf, and he was answered with a deafening explosion.

The bomb went off right before it hit the ground, sending lethal bits of jagged metal flying all over the place. Sydran heard the telltale thunk of shrapnel embedding itself in the shelf through the slight ringing in his ears and took that as his cue to leap into action; he dropped off his perch and glided to the ground, taking in the situation as readied his sword and blasted one gnorc with a lightning bolt. Most of the grunts had gotten maimed by the shrapnel, with only four still standing, all of whom were wounded. Two of the wolves had gotten behind cover and were relatively unscathed, but the other two weren't as lucky: one was rolling on the ground in agony with a spoon sticking out of his kneecap, and the other was staggering around as he clutched at the jagged splinter of metal lodged in his throat. Jayron had immediately run off as soon as the bomb dropped, and from the lack of blood on the balcony, he'd managed to avoid getting hurt. Sydran thought about chasing after his nemesis, but quickly decided he should mop up the mooks first; in his scouting, he found that none of the exits were accessible without going through the main floor.

He launched a second, more powerful bolt at three of the gnorcs who were huddled together, the electricity arcing between them to take out the whole group. The final gnorc let out a loud bellow as he started swinging his hammer in circles above its head, but its clumsy charge led it to be impaled as Sydran's rapier jabbed into its chest. The black dragon reached out and pulled it closer, driving the sword's point all the way through its slightly flabby body and piercing something vital.

Suddenly, something slammed into the dead gnorc's shoulder, and Sydran looked up to see that both of the wolves had pulled out crossbows. He turned the corpse to better act as a meat shield, then pulled out the knife from his belt just as a second quarrel whizzed past his head. With deft precision, the dragon hurled the knife straight into one of the wolves' shoulders, knocking him back and distracting his partner just long enough for Sydran to hit him with a bolt of lightning. He then dropped the gnorc's corpse and slid his blade from its chest, advancing forward before ducking under a sword swing.

The first wolf had his broadsword out and in front of him, only held in one hand due to the dagger still protruding from his shoulder. He made a few testing jabs, then feinted to the right before lunging forward. The attack caught Sydran off guard, and the broadsword's tip only missed his belly by a hair's breadth; it still tore a decent hole in his doublet and shirt, and if he'd been standing a few millimeters closer it would have pierced his scales. He barely managed to block the next two swings, frantically bringing his sword up just soon enough to parry each sideways slice. The third attack wasn't so easy to avoid, however, and the overhand smash snapped the rapier's flimsy blade in two. The wolf let out a snarl of triumph and brought his sword up for the killing blow when Sydran suddenly lunged toward him.

He felt the jagged metal tip of the dragon's broken sword plunge into his side and let out a pained whine, ineffectually swinging downward as blood began to flow. Sydran ripped the blade from the wolf's side before whacking him in the head with the pommel, knocking him to the ground with a satisfying crack. The black dragon then turned to fight whoever was next, but nothing else came charging at him; as he looked around at the carnage, he realized all of the henchmen were either dead, unconscious, or crippled. Moans and whines of pain filled the air, and the sulfuric smell of exploded gunpowder was already mixing with the metallic scent of spilled blood.

"Oh, Jaaaayroooon," Sydran called out, "Come out and plaaaay!" After picking up a dropped broadsword, he walked through the door at the far end of the warehouse into what he assumed to be an office, furnished with a few light wooden desks and a single couch. "Your friends are too busy being dead to help you, you know... why don't you make this easy on both of us?" There was a spiral staircase in the right corner, probably leading to the floor where Jayron was hiding; Sydran moved toward it and cautiously began climbing it, keeping his weapon in front of him just in case his quarry decided to ambush him. His hearing strained for any sign of movement above him just in case Jayron tried to make a break for it, but he didn't hear anything besides pained groans and his own breathing. Sydran made it up the stairs without issue and emerged into a hall with a few doors on the left side. There was an intersection right in the middle, which he could only assume led to the balcony, and Sydran began moving toward it. "If you come quietly, I'll take it easy on you, maybe only break one of your wings instead of clipping them both."

"What an interesting offer." Jayron's smooth, carefree voice sounded from just behind Sydran, but as he whirled around, he felt something small and sharp jab into the side of his neck. He pulled it out to see it was some kind of syringe, its payload already emptied into his bloodstream. His adversary was standing right in front of the staircase, wearing a dark purple robe, a bandolier of vials and bottles, and a satchel strap that held a large, ancient-looking tome at his hip. The black-scaled dragon had sinister spines running down the back of his neck and behind his jaw, with striking blue eyes that held a malevolent yet playful spark. "However, I think I have a much better counterproposal: you sit down for a little break, and we can see if I have any use for you."

Sydran didn't bother to respond, instead choosing to bellow a spirited battle cry and charge at his nemesis. After about two steps, however, he noticed he seemed to have a bit of delay between him thinking about doing something and his body actually doing it. He swung downward with the broadsword much clumsier than he'd expected to, and his adversary ducked out of the way with graceful ease. "Such anger," he infuriatingly chided, "No wonder you blundered into that ambush."

"You killed Roland, you sack of shit!" He turned and stabbed, but his body had become so sluggish that it was more of a lazy poke. What the hell had Jayron injected him with? Poison?

Jayron made a tsk-tsk sound, crossing his arms over his chest as his shit eating grin widened. "Oh, I didn't kill him," he purred, "Definitely maimed him, probably psychologically scarred him, and briefly sexually assaulted him, but I didn't kill him. After a little bit of roughhousing, I let the kid go in a decent town, he should be fine." Sydran tried again to cleave the bastard in two, but his arms were so damn weak that Jayron was able to just grab his wrists and wrench the sword from his grasp. His legs were starting to wobble under his own weight, and he wondered how far this thing would progress. "I'm not a monster, Sydran," Jayron murmured, slipping behind the other dragon and holding him steady by the shoulders. "In fact, I consider myself pretty reasonable, considering that you just maimed over twenty people."

Sydran tried to maintain his balance, but his legs just refused to hold the rest of him up. He fell backward, but instead of flopping onto the wooden floorboards he found himself caught by Jayron. "What the hell did you do to me?" he snarled, trying to break out of his nemesis's grip but failing miserably.

"Oh, just a little bit of succinylcholine. Where I'm from, it's typically used as a lethal poison, but in a precise dose like the one I gave you, all it does is paralyze you from the neck down." To Sydran's surprise, Jayron swept him off his feet and began carrying him through one of the doors; he tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but with the paralytic in full swing he could barely lift a finger. "I'd just sit back and relax if I were you," Jayron continued, "All the willpower in the world can't overcome surgical-grade drugs."

Jayron carried him into a sort of barracks, with four cots, four dressers, a couple chairs, and a chamber pot. It was on one of these cots that Sydran was placed, and Jayron made sure he was nice and comfortable before sitting down on the bed beside Sydran's knees. He reached out one paw and tenderly ran his fingers down Sydran's sternum, his blue eyes looking his prey over with a strange tenderness. "You know, I could really use someone like you, someone smart who can get their hands dirty. I know you're not from that medieval hamlet, either, based on your mannerisms..." His claw moved down to Sydran's belly, sending uncomfortable shivers through his black-scaled hide. "I could get you something you're more accustomed to... a car, a phone... a meal made with some decent spices..." A slight tremor of temptation arose in his mind as memories of his old life bubbled to the surface. It seemed like a lot longer than two weeks had gone by, but when he really focused, he could call all the little details back with crystal clarity. To have all that back... or even just a sliver of it...

"Of course, if that doesn't interest you, I can also offer more... primal incentives." Jayron's claw gently slid down to the crotch of Sydran's pants, making the young dragon's eyes go wide with surprise. "Mercenaries and monsters hardly provide decent company... I could certainly use someone closer to my type."

As his nemesis's claw gently rubbed along his slit, Sydran's breathing began to get heavier, both from nervousness and the slightest hint of arousal. "So what," he sarcastically asked, "You want to fuck me? Just rip my pants off while I can't fight back and fuck me in the ass?"

"That's a rather blunt way of putting it," Jayron replied, "But it's true nonetheless." Sydran's blood just about ran cold, and as his adversary began working at his pants, he realized there was nothing he could do to stop Jayron from raping him.

The younger dragon let out a nervous laugh. "You're not actually going to just stay put while the guards come for you, are you? They're probably on their way here right now... y-you'd better start running!"

Jayron stopped for a moment to fix Sydran with a pitying stare. "I wouldn't count on it. My client paid the city watch to avoid this warehouse like the plague, and his henchmen will turn tail once they see the mess you left." His sinister claws managed to get the front of Sydran's pants undone, and with a lover's slow touch, he pulled down both trousers and underwear. "It's just you and me, and you aren't exactly in fighting shape." Sydran's slit was laid completely bare, and after popping his probing claw into his mouth, Jayron slipped it in and just barely brushed Sydran's still-hidden cock.

"Please, don't do this," Sydran blurted out, "I swear I'll leave you alone, just-"

"Shhhhh..." Jayron silenced him by holding his snout shut with one paw. "Don't lie to me, we both know you're going to love this." He then stood up and reached for his robe's silver clasp. Once that was undone, the purple garment easily slid off with his book and bandolier, leaving him stark naked and ready for love. In the nude, Jayron almost looked like Sydran's evil twin, with a darker grey belly, sharper scales, and a leaner physique with less muscle and fat. As the evil looking dragon reached down and gently massaged his own slit, Sydran realized he lacked any kind of balls, leaving nothing but a subtle break in his scales to indicate where his genitals were. He couldn't help but find his slender body attractive, and the more deviant corners of his mind began conjuring up lusty fantasies of them putting aside their differences in the most intimate way possible.

Jayron sauntered back over to where Sydran lay and slipped one leg over his thighs, winding up straddling the young dragon with their slits pressed together. As Jayron's deft paws began unbuttoning Sydran's doublet, he started grinding against his hips, the soft, supple scales of his slit brushing against the younger dragon's spade-shaped tip. Despite Sydran's apprehensions, his cock was slowly sliding out, and the more it did, the more it seemed like he'd wind up penetrating Jayron. The spined dragon finally got Sydran's doublet all the way undone and spread apart, but he betrayed just a bit of impatience as he tore open the frilly shirt underneath. Once that was out of the way, he tenderly ran his hands up Sydran's cream-colored underbelly, seeming to savor the smooth texture and subtle tremors. "Mmmm, there we go... you've got a handsome body, you know, well-muscled but not too beefy..." He leaned down and ran his long, black tongue from Sydran's belly all the way to his sternum, leaving a trail of warm, sticky saliva. "It's enough to make a man drool," Jayron purred, "I wonder if there's anyone back in that little village who'd fully appreciate you."

"Mrrrrrr..." Sydran quietly groaned, torn between disgusted terror and lusty excitement. His cock was halfway out now, and Jayron's rocking hips ended up pressing it against his adversary's soft slit. Jayron smirked as he shifted his weight, adjusting things just enough that Sydran's glans slipped inside. The warmth of his internal body temperature was heavenly, which combined with the squeezing muscles and brushing against Jayron's member to make him seriously consider a truce. But no, he couldn't just let it all slip away for the sake of lust... could he?

Jayron continued rocking back and forth, getting Sydran even more erect and making his enemy start to get hard as well. "I wonder how much you'll enjoy this?" pondered Jayron aloud, slowly sliding himself up Sydran's cock before bringing his hips back down. He always loved the feeling of this, of rubbing dicks with another male inside his own body; for some reason, it got him as hard as a dragon could get, but he tended to keep his cock pulled inside for convenience. Jayron then leaned down over Sydran, tenderly kissing him on the neck and chest as his paws kneaded into the young dragon's back. "Mmmm, I can tell you love this," he purred, "You filthy little fiend..." His muzzle was inches from Sydran's ear hole, and as his long black tongue ran up along his cheek, Sydran felt a shiver of both arousal and discomfort wash over him. Then, Jayron suddenly hopped off of him, and as the sinister dragon rubbed at his slit, his rigid, barbed dick emerged in all its glory. "However, I don't think docking is really representative of our relationship at the moment, do you?"

Sydran watched as Jayron repositioned his helpless body, turning him around 90 degrees so that his rump was just barely hanging off the cot. The spined dragon then reached down to his robes and pulled out a small bottle of clear liquid, which he uncorked and drizzled onto his cock before applying some more to one claw. Sydran's eyes went wide as he felt Jayron rubbing the fluid against his ass, and he quickly recognized the slick texture as lube. Oh boy, he thought, this was going to get interesting. He wasn't sure how well he'd be able to take his nemesis's barbed dick; he'd managed to get something like that in his ass before, but it'd been about half of Jayron's size. "Take it easy, will you?" he murmured, which Jayron greeted with a small smile.

"Of course," the spined dragon replied with a lusty smile, "This is so much better when we both enjoy it." He reached down and grabbed both of Sydran's ankles, lifting his legs into the air and inadvertently bumping his glans against the younger dragon's tailhole. "I've been told this hurts a tad," he cooed, "So just lay back and relax. I'll take it slow." Sydran was about to reply when Jayron thrust inward, popping the tip into his rectum with one smooth motion. They both let out small gasps, but Jayron didn't hesitate to move things along; he smoothly slid deeper, the lube helping him glide in until he was up to the hilt it Sydran's rump. The younger dragon could feel the bumps and barbs rubbing against his rectum, making him just a tad uncomfortable. Fortunately, with him being already aroused, the little bumps did quite a bit to tease his prostate, making him groan with pleasure. He'd always loved the feeling of having a cock up his ass, the sense of fullness and intimacy it provided, the- oh god!

His partner went back on his word as he pulled out, coming close to yanking it out like a ripcord. The firm barbs and hard ridges hurt a lot more going the other way, but he still gasped more out of surprise than pain. "Gah!" he shouted, "That fucking hurt!"

"Oh hush," Jayron chided, starting to slip back inside with a bit more force, popping through a few little bits of resistance until his crotch pressed flush to Sydran's "It isn't all that bad, it just takes a moment to get used to is all." As the barbed cock pulled back a second time, Sydran found Jayron to be right; the barbs didn't hurt nearly as much as they stimulated, and after a few more thrusts, the pain dulled to where he could barely feel it. It also helped that Jayron wrapped one paw around his stiffened shaft, slowly stroking his throbbing cock as a reward. Sydran began to relax as Jayron picked up speed, letting out a long, satisfied groan as those firm bumps ran back and forth over his prostate again and again. "See, not that bad, is it?" Jayron purred, continuing to slowly fuck the younger dragon with a merciless rhythm. Jayron's paw did quite a bit to help him along, squeezing his cock firmly with each tender stroke. Some of the lube had gotten into the works, lessening the handjob's friction and making a delightful squelching sound that matched the noises Jayron's cock made as it fucked Sydran silly. "Mmmm, gods you're tight," the spined dragon moaned, "Keep squeezing on me like that and I might have to cut this short."

Sydran was nearing his own climax at an alarming rate, and as his muscles began to break free from the paralysis, he started squirming under his oh-so-handsome enemy. A few minutes ago, he might have tried to escape with his minimal range of motion, but by now he was all to enraptured in the pounding Jayron was giving him. "Hrrrgh... more..." he whimpered, feeling the pressure in his balls begin to build. Jayron's ridged cock felt absolutely amazing inside him, and any discomfort he'd felt before was replaced by erotic friction and satisfying fullness. "I... I'm gonna... ohhhh, god... don't stop..."

"Now now, don't blow your load just yet." Jayron's hand went from jerking him off to squeezing hard on his member, keeping Sydran at the very precipice of cumming. "Mrrrr... just a bit more..." His thrusting began to pick up speed, jackhammering in and out of Sydran's ass with savage ferocity. The only thing keeping the younger dragon from orgasm was Jayron's hand, and as he began to slow down his thrusts, his grip relaxed just enough for Sydran to jizz. "I'm... cumming!" Jayron groaned, and the two black dragons hit their climax as one. Sydran's sticky jizz spurted up and splattered onto his cream-colored belly, making him feel filthy in a wonderful way. Jayron started pumping him full of his own viscous seed at the same time, getting it nice and deep into his bowels. The younger dragon felt used, abused, and completely satisfied, his breath coming in short pants as he looked up at Jayron. He didn't pull out, instead opting to lean down and give Sydran a tender hug, surprising him by kissing him on the lips. As his nemesis turned one-night stand pulled back, Sydran thought he saw genuine love in his adversary's bright blue eyes, mixed with the unmistakable sparkle of post-coital lust. "This could be something we do on the regular," he cooed, "All you have to do is come with me..."

Sydran was seriously considering the possibility when Jayron gently pulled out with a loud slurping sound, taking a moment to wipe his member off on the cot's sheets before slipping back into his robes. He turned to leave, and the fear of losing a great opportunity flared in Sydran's mind. "Wait, how can I find you?" he blurted out, but Jayron didn't stop walking away until he reached the doorway.

The spined dragon turned and fixed Sydran with a lusty glance, a playful gleam shining in his eyes. "Oh, you'll find me when the time is right," he purred, then turned back and left the room.

"Wait!" Sydran yelled, but the sound of departing feet didn't stop for a moment. After a few moments, he was left alone on the bed with the paralytic still mostly in effect, unable to do more than flop around on the cot. The smell of cum filled the air as Jayron's seed leaked from his gaping tailhole, and he could still hear the groans of the wounded coming from below. The question of whether to follow Jayron or to remain loyal to the other dragons dominated his thoughts, and in the twenty minutes he lay on that cot, he had plenty of time to toss both options around in his mind.

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