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The holy chamber of the High Priestess of love serve as a place of rest and meditation. The spacious and comfortable bed that makes up the altar is always ready to welcome guests. When the Priestess returns from a recent outing, she pauses when she sees one such guest there to greet her.It is Draykan-the blue dragon and paladin of her holy order.

The matronly elf closes the door behind her, leaving the two in the low light of nearly burnt-out candles. "The acolytes told me you were out on another journey."

Draykan opens one eye, taking a deep breath before relaxing his pose. "I was. I searched for someone--someone who wants to do harm to a friend of mine. Someone who has taken two women I care about already. All I know is that Galenna's been sponsored by a mysterious hooded figure and that Es has been taken by one as well. I fear they are the same person and this person, he pauses, then takes a deep breath. "She looks a lot like you. Where have you been, High Priestess?"

Tymara frowns, walking over towards the bed and sitting on the edge of the mattress. "I've been doing some investigation, and it appears as if my greatest fears have come to light. The one you have met--the one serving as a dark Herald in the Tournament of Pleasure... is Elicia, the Elf of Anathema."

"What does that mean?"

"She has consorted with dark powers and prepared to do," she pauses, scrunching up the sheets. "...terrible things. In a bid for power that she does not deserve."

Draykan huffs. "Great, so no one knows where she is, and she's consorting with dark powers. There's no way I can get to her and find the others--not when I'm still burdened by my feral response."

Tymara places a hand upon his shoulder. "You'll not need to search for her or your friends if you keep winning in the Tournament of Pleasure. I'm sure the gods will allow you to face her at a fated hour."

"Even so, she is probably telling everyone about my weakness," he says, bringing a hand up towards his head, stopping just short of his horns. "Foes can use that against me... turn me into a beast, make me do things I'm not proud of."

"Then, perhaps we should commune with the gods and seek their counsel? Perhaps, there, we can find a remedy for your ailments?"

"Wait... we can do that? Directly communicate with the divine?"

"Ever since Hanioc arrived in our world, it has become much easier to divine the desires of the divine." Tymara says this, reaching up and undoing her easily removable robes. "Will you commune with me and attempt to make contact with the plane of the gods?"

"Well, how can I say 'no' to you, Tymara," he says, removing his own clerical robes.

"Becoming familiar with your High Priestess, are we?" she asks, climbing up onto him.

"Oh, very," he responds, hands gripping at her butt, squeezing her soft flesh before they lock lips together.

As his twin dicks slide into her warm body, feeling the embrace of her sex and her ass. She pushes up, wrapping his arms around her, exploring that intimacy as her breasts squish against his muscled and scaled body.

She breaks from the kiss and looks to him with hazed-over eyes. "N-now, remember... we are communing with the gods here... let them hear our cries of pleasure as a call to them. Maybe then... ah... they can... h... hear us!" Her voice squeaks, and she bites her lip, squeezing her eyes shut and grinding up against him. Draykan, meanwhile, continues his rhythm into her, his wings wrapping around her, enveloping her in his embrace.

"If only..." he thinks aloud, "I could... not be so weak... if I were not some...some demi dragon. If I were a full majestic creature, free of my weakness, I could take this tournament by... by storm!"

"You can be anything you want, Draykan, thanks to... to the Divine!"

He snorts, throwing her down onto the bed, looming over her, his eyes looking up to the bedpost where various symbols of deities are scrawled. He focuses on each of them as he thrusts into her. Her cries become a background prayer as he fucks her and focuses on the artwork and the deities that they represent. Would any of them come to his call? And if so, what would they bring?

Regardless of the divine presence or not, fucking Tymara always feels incredible. To be someone with the honor to have her so often, he knows he is truly blessed.

Then, the greatest blessing is how he can hilt right inside of her, hips smacking hips, and release with a growl, filling her bowels and her womb with his potent draconic seed.

Draykan huffs, his eyes hazed. He shakes his head, and he sniffs the air... the fresh air... the crisp, springtime breeze. Wait... but they were inside...?

He rolls off of Tymara, only to be blinded by the sun. He snarls, holding his hand up over his face. He had been in the dim light for so long, that the bright light was blinding.

"You have called for a divine meeting, haven't you? And yet, you cannot even bask in my form?"

Draykan lowers his arm, only to drop his jaw. He's now in a field of blossoming flowers and swirling vines. Sitting in front of him is a giant green dragon with beautiful crests and an impressive wingspan, blocking out the harsh sunlight.

Draykan scrambles to his feet, looking up at the impressive creature. "You're... you're a real... a real dragon," he says.

The dragon cracks a soft smile, "Oh, my dear child," the motherly voice coos. "You are a real dragon, as well. But I am much more than that. I am a goddess, and your wishes, I am most eager to help grant."

"You're a goddess?" Draykan asks, bowing down to one knee before her. "Forgive me, but I do not recognize you, even if I am in awe."

"That is fair... my servants are few and far between in this world, but I have made appearances in the past few years as rumblings of pleasure fill the land. Perhaps this form will help you recognize me."

The dragon spreads magnificent wings and holds up hands. Soon, the bright light from the sun hits Draykan again as her form condenses until she is shorter than the anthropomorphic dragon. She takes on a bipedal form herself with the most motherly of figures, with wide hips and large breasts laden with milk. Her eyes flash when she looks up to Draykan. "I am Xasandra, goddess of fertility, and one of the divines watching over the Tournament of Pleasure. Now rise, Draykan, Paladin of Love, and devotee of siring."

"D... devote...?" he says, standing up.

"Oh yes, I can sense it within you. You have a mighty need to breed. To spread your seed with those wonderful tools bestowed to you by nature. You have chosen a path of spreading love, when, in reality, you wish to spread life."

"I never thought about that," he says, rubbing the back of his head. "But the Order of Love has helped me so much with my dark urges. Being a paladin has kept me from succumbing... well, not as often as I used to."

"And to you, I offer a cure," she says, holding her arms wide as if to embrace him. "Become a devotee of my ways, a child of the divine mother, and be reborn as a mighty dragon--one who has control of everything in his mind and body. No more shall you be cursed by the torture inflicted upon you, and together, we shall make a beautiful life."

"Wait..." he swallows, his eyes tracing along her magnificent body. "You mean you want me to... to breed you!?"

"Is that not a reward suitable to a champion?" she asks. "You can feel the need welling up within you right now. Things are especially fertile here in my domain."

Draykan snorts, grabbing onto the motherly dragon and pulling her in close, letting her breasts press up against his body, squeezing her, pinning her down to the ground. The desire within him is real. The want a deep and primal thing that ties into those feral urges that he intends to purge so much. As he slides his cocks into her and pins her down, he thinks about how he denied himself his natural urges to continue his bloodline. He has neglected a means to defeat this curse within him.

The goddess, despite being a mother many times over, is a comforting warmth around his cocks. Both of them plunge deep into her body, each thrust getting him closer and closer to her womb.

She groans into his ear, holding onto him, her hands sliding up along his back, over past his wings, over his head, and soon enough, she grips onto his horns. "Give it to me!" she commands.

His eyes flash red. His mind goes blank. All that's there is the need, even more, even angrier. He snarls, digging his claws into Xasandra's shoulders. She screams, but it is of delight, not fear nor pain.

He rams her, delving deeper, breaking through her barriers, finding his way within her innermost parts.

The toe-curling, mind-breaking sensation of orgasm hits the goddess, her body convulsing around his cocks, filling him with more desire and more passion. He roars into the sky, his wings spread, his dicks spewing out liters of his sperm deep within her. Each of the millions of swimmers filled with that feral anger that he harbors within him. They race with unparalleled determination to the sphere of power located deep inside of the goddess. While so many of them ram at the walls of the seemingly impregnable surface, one of them, burning red with fury, pierces through the wall. It burrows itself deep into the loving embrace of the seed of life.

Draykan collapses on top of the goddess, panting, his mind slowly returning to him.

The goddess's hand strokes at the back of his head. She lines a finger up and down around his horn.

Draykan winces, but nothing happens. He reaches up, and he clasps his horn. "I... did..."

"We've done it. You have become the future father of a demigod. Perhaps one day, you shall become a true child of Xasandra yourself, if you wish to take the rite of rebirth through the goddess's divine form."

"Er... uh, no thanks on that. I'll find my own way to become a dragon. I don't think I want to think of you as a mother to me." he says this, pushing himself up. "Thank you, really, for getting rid of the curse. No one was able to figure a way to eliminate the damage that the cult has done to me."

Xasandra pushes herself up, standing tall, with her hands caressing her belly, and showing off a gentle baby bump already. "Oh, the damage and the curse aren't gone, dear. That sort of thing can only be moved."

"Moved...? Where?" His eyes widen. He grabs her shoulders. "NO! The child? Xasandra, you need to give the harm back to me! I can handle it. A baby cannot."

Xasandra throws the dragon off with a flex of her arms. She tuts him, spreading her wings wide. "Oh, my dear Draykan, as if a mortal has any say in what a goddess desires. This will be a great child, worthy of being mine, no matter what pain brought it into this world. She flaps her wings, and the gust from the power sends the dragon reeling back.

He leaps up from the bed, covered in sweat. The scent of burnt-out candles fills his nostrils.

He's back in the chamber with Tymara, left with questions, but he pokes his horn. Nothing-not even a tingle of emotion. He had done it. But what was the cost?