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Naked Profits

For Dreixes

By Draconicon

The world had changed quite considerably from last year's convention. The world wanted pretty women, usually strong but still somewhat subdued. They wanted to see pictures of women that knew what they wanted, but also who vaguely knew to stay out of the way of men that were doing the real work. Confidence, but the sort of confidence that was pretty, not real. Not the sort that threatened others that read the magazines that they put out.

That was a year ago, however. The world had changed, and a certain dragoness was happy to profit from it.

Drakina sat at the end of a catwalk, surrounded on either side by photographers and sketch artists that were already starting to sweat from her presence. The purple dragoness could hardly imagine why; she was no different from the models that they were about to enjoy.

Then again, that was probably the entire reason for their discomfort. It wasn't every day that a beautiful woman sat naked beside you, breasts exposed, legs half-spread, cock over one thigh...

She leaned sideways, chin on a hand, and whispered to Mr. Grant, a bull that ran one of the larger fashion magazines in this little world. Her lips caught his ear, made it flick as she spoke.

"Are you looking forward to this? I promise you, you'll never look at beauty the same way again."

"I...I'm sure that it will...be quite an issue, Ms..."

"Hmm, hmm." She chuckled, turning to her other side. A rat female shifted in her chair, looking anywhere but at the dragoness. It didn't spare her any attention. "And you, Mrs. Darling? Are you looking forward to this show? I'm sure it'll set the trends for the rest of the year's models."

"I'm...sure...Madame..."

Forced smiles, forced noddings of the head. Oh, if she didn't know that she had control here, she would have been reminded just from the sheer amount of stiffness in every movement. She could have been the puppet master of this show. As, indeed, she was. She had planned this out, dragged them down from their little high places, and made sure that they showed up for this little display.

All for a good cause, of course. Not that whole 'equality in media' thing, but rather, for her own indulgence. She had taken a long time getting this set up, and she planned to enjoy every last second of it.

"Everyone's ready?" she asked, glancing down the sides of the catwalk. Photographers and sketch artists all nodded. "Then let's begin."

The naked dragoness snapped her fingers, and the lights around them went out. The lights over the catwalk, however, turned brighter, a deep purple that burned with a brilliance like firelight off scales, and the whole pathway seemed to shimmer in incandescent wonder. She leaned back, one hand on her thigh, the other under her chin.

As the pop-pop-pop of the music started playing, the first model stepped out from behind the curtain. She wore nothing, just as the dragoness did. A cheetah, long, lean in the body, with her breasts quite a bit larger than one might have expected. They hung forward, pulled down by the accessories that were pierced through her nipples. The feline looked left, right, left, and then strutted forward, her walk as fierce as one could imagine, hips cutting side to side and her steps stabbing into the floor like a needle on a sewing machine, precise, even as she stalked forward like the huntress that she was.

She heard the breath catch in the throats of the bull and the rat, neither of them able to look away. Drakina made sure of that, her fingers twiddling along her thigh, almost invisible purple lines of power running from her fingers to their heads like puppet strings. They stared at the cheetah as she walked forward, and the bull's cock started to harden down his thigh.

"I feel that women should celebrate their bodies more," Drakina said, her voice quiet as she explained her 'vision.' "Confidence is all well and good, but it's all fake on the camera. When you're hiding behind wealth, behind all that other stuff...what good is it? Confidence is nudity. Let them see what you've got."

The cheetah hit the end of the runway, leaning forward with a powerful display of muscle. Her breasts fell, hanging low, the weights on her nipples touching the floor as she bent further, further, further forward, and some of the photographers could not help themselves. They hurried behind her, taking pictures of her rear end, of her sex, of her ass, only to jump out of the way as she turned and stomped back to the rear of the stage.

A collective gasp for breath came from the artists and her two associates, and Drakina chuckled.

"Pace yourselves, darlings...that's only the start..."

As the cheetah moved behind the curtains, the next model - an eagle - stepped out. Rather than the broad-shouldered bird that one might have expected, this one had a body almost feminine, swept in and pulled tight to the waist before flaring slightly at the hips. He walked with a slow, tender step down the runway, his talons sliding with a rasp along the panels that guided him forward.

"This one, mmm. He was quite the stud when he applied for the job, but look at him now," she muttered to the rat. "Can't you see, Mrs. Darling? His eyes. They were so soft, before, and now the rest of the body mimics him."

"What did...how did you..."

"Trade secrets, dear."

Changing them, altering them had been a lovely experience. Her brother might have waited for permission. She saw them as they were, what they were hiding from the world, and she gave it to them whether they were ready for it or not. The eagle had been such a soft-hearted man, someone that wanted to be seen as a kindly soul. She had taken those muscles, those broad shoulders, those thick legs. Instead, he walked with grace and precision befitting a secretary bird, and his hips? Oh, they did not lie. They swayed, and his tail feathers rose to show their greater heft in the back.

She smiled, nodding her approval at the eagle as he came to a stop, gesturing for him to turn. The crowd continued to stare as he did, even as the lights from the ceiling reflected off the jewels at the base of the plug in his ass.

Once more, it was clear that he had stolen the breath from the industry execs. Drakina smiled, looking back and forth.

"I think we can agree that these models are a marked improvement over last year, yes?" she asked, twitching her fingers to make both rat and bull nod. "I'm so glad that you agree with me. Let's see. What next, what next? Oh, yes. Bruce!"

The eagle was all but forgotten as the shark came round the corner. Returned were the muscles, but for all those expecting the twisting twin-dicks of a shark's sex, they were disappointed. Bruce walked down the stage with the body of a man and the sex of a woman, his slippery slit already running down his thighs. Sweat ran like oil down his shoulders and along his spine, glistening purple in the lights that she'd set up. He strutted, his muscular thighs hiding his slit, and then revealing it, then hiding it again.

The room was utterly silent, as even the snaps of the cameras stopped. Bruce hit the end of the stage and knelt, showing his teeth in a knowing grin, and then rolled on all fours. He turned, flicking his tail up, almost a breeding posture for the bull and rat. They could not breathe, it seemed, could not come up with a word to say.

Drakina smiled. The shock that had settled over the stage was perfect. Just...perfect. The indignation that might have come from the show had already been battered into submission, their shock and utter disbelief more than enough to silence whatever they might have done to object. And in that space, her magic worked.

The world is going to have a very interesting year, she thought, weaving her finger in circles as Bruce strutted back to the edge of the stage. An entire industry, their values changed, their hungers shifted...

No more hiding behind one's status. No more using wealth to pretend that you were confident when you were not. No more hiding behind accomplishments of the past. This year, they would celebrate the self, the pure confidence that came when you were exactly what you were.

She had already made a few contacts in this world. A few women at a certain Gentleman's Club were sure to sign up for something like this. Little photography businesses would be getting all kinds of excitement as cis, trans, and non-binary people showed up, eager to try their luck in a business that was celebrating the primal, the exciting, the interesting, and most of all, the different.

Of course, the little spell that she'd woven into the light wouldn't hurt. As the two heads of the businesses at the top of the industry, Mr. Grand and Mrs. Darling would push their influence right down the throats of those that disagreed. She chuckled to herself, her cock rising slowly as Bruce's successor came down the runway. This one was an albino peacock, a female, showing off the slightly drab tail feathers she had in comparison to most males, but also the sheer loveliness of her legs, her talons, the accessories that decorated them from ankle to thigh. She walked in mincing, playful fashion...

Until she hit the end of the runway, that was. Then she spread her legs, and a shaft that one could not have expected popped forth, showering the end of the runway with pre-cum, a flourish as bright and beautiful as a male's tail would have been.

Good girl, Drakina thought, clapping. Very good...

The peacock bowed, turning on her back talon and walking away. Mrs. Darling's jaw worked soundlessly, and Mr. Grant blushed worse than ever. Drakina chuckled, bringing her hands down to their crotches.

"Perhaps we should take a breather. I'm sure that the photographers and the artists would love a chance to...settle down. And you two...I feel we have much to talk about."

"Y-yes, ma'am."

"Madame...please..."

"Come with me...and for now...Call me Mistress."

The End

Summary: Drakina takes over the fashion runway for a day, and she decides to flip the industry on its head.

Tags: H/solo, M/solo, F/solo, Intersex/solo, Naughty Fashion, Runway, Cheetah, Dragoness, Drakina, Mind Control, Exhibitionism, Nudity, Piercings, Erection, Pre-Cum,