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"Great One," the witch chuckled, "even I cannot do much to halt the growth in whomever it is you speak of, lest I learn more about who it is I am treating."

Vyra shook her head, "that is not of your concern. It is merely an acquaintance of mine who seeks aid."

The old gray scaled lizard nodded, her eyes hiding something, their cool emerald gaze almost rueful, as if she had donned a mask. The old kobold looked over her shoulder to Vyra's guard, Murgas, and waved him away.

Murgas glanced at Vyra for confirmation, and after a moment, she nodded and Murgas left. Once alone, the witch took on a thoughtful expression, "I think I understand the situation, do you have somewhere more private to speak?"

A heat pooled into her ear tips at Arwa's request, a slip the old lizard seemed to have been almost looking for, a slight grin pulling on her lips before being subdued. "The treasure room will do." Vyra nodded across her large alcove towards the carve out in the back that had been hewn by her laborers when she'd first taken the cave system from the previous owner.

Vyra led her further within her inner sanctuary, claws clicking on the floor. The game she knew she had to learn to play already seemed stacked against her in more ways than one. Though whether Arwa had any ill intent, Vyra could not yet be sure.

As Vyra settled into a comfortable spot, she surveyed her small but accomplished wealth, her favorites always oriented to draw attention; a pile of several dozen gold coins and an elegant silver blade of some old family of human nobility from the lowlands.

Arwa followed inside, glancing over her shoulder, grip whitened against her gnarled staff.

"What is it that is too sensitive to say within my own quarters?" Vyra asked carefully.

Arwa drew the long curtain, providing a shield from any prying eyes. "How long ago was it?" Arwa asked, her voice low. She clicked her staff, gripping it and watching Vyra, eyes searching her, probing.

Vyra flinched from her gaze before grimacing and reasserting herself. I'm not an adolescent anymore. "How long ago was what?"

Arwa sighed and watched Vyra for a moment. When Vyra said nothing, the lizard rolled her eyes, then stepped towards Vyra's side as she opened her satchel, picking through it.

Vyra flashed her teeth and emitted a low growl, her wing stretching slightly to block Arwa. "What are you doing?"

Unperturbed by her, Arwa glanced to Vyra, "I'm doing what you asked me to do." She pressed her hand against Vyra's wing, "lay on your side and end this childish behavior."

Vyra snapped her jaws, "I no longer desire your services."

Arwa chuckled, "calm, Great One." She stepped back, nodding to Vyra. "Sometimes I forget myself in my old age, for I have experienced so much, I sometime lack the patience that is required of me."

Vyra glared at the witch, unsettled by her forwardness, though let her growl going silent.

"Great One, I understand that leading my kind is new to you. It was new to all those who walk your path in the beginning. And it is my own knowledge and experience that leads those like you to success."

Arwa paused to sit, crossing her legs, her tail snaking around her ankles.

"It is not uncommon for this to happen. While drakes sometimes use their essence to reward their followers, dragonesses are held to a different standard. You _know_this."

Vyra felt her irritation rising.

Arwa smiled, "calm, I understand what troubles you more so than you may think. Apart from most creatures, a dragoness' heat is stronger than even the greatest bonfires. In your youth, you are expected far more of, all while you must try to control that desire within you. Many are consumed by this desire; I have seen it."

Vyra wanted to say something, to refute Arwa's words. Though the act felt wrong. Arwa could already see her cards, to say otherwise would be frame herself as a petulant hatchling, even if it hurt her pride deeply to admit it.

"You..." Vyra swallowed, "are not wrong." Vyra pulled her tail against her side, unable to look at Arwa.

"Ah," Arwa said, a small smile piquing her lips, "but I see you are different than most." She rested a small hand atop Vyra's foreleg. "Most are not kind," she muttered, "most would not listen to themselves, believing every word they speak it truth. The young must contend with their ignorance and be accepting that it exists, lest it become arrogance. No, you are very different. I am gladdened you already understand this."

A smile of her own etched at Vyra and she shifted her claw toward Arwa's presence. She felt Arwa's grip tighten reassuringly as Vyra met her gaze. Show me, Arwa's eyes said.

She tightened her jaw, then lifted her wing, rolling slowly to her side to expose her belly. Arwa stood up slowly, giving Vyra one last encouraging grip before letting go. Vyra felt her cool touch trace the larger plates along her chest, their obsidian smooth sheen a brilliant darkness. As her hand traveled towards her belly, Vyra heard the witch mutter to herself, strange intangible sounds murmured as she leaned her weight against her staff of roots and beaten wood.

From the side, Arwa's features were swept back, sharp like a bird of prey, her muzzle ending in an almost hooked beak, her horns a gentle curve upwards along her head. Arwa's eyes were shut in concentration while her hand-claw grazed her body until it rested overtop the softer hide of her lower belly.

Vyra shuddered at the touch, body responding to the intimate touch. She was still deep within her cycle despite having been bred once already.

"How long ago were you bred?" Arwa asked quietly, eyes still shut.

"Just a few days," she answered, her voice lower than Arwa's.

"And who was it you blessed with your virginity?"

Vyra swallowed, the seriousness of that statement not lost on her. "I cannot say," she muttered.

Arwa sighed again, "it will make helping you much easier if you tell me."

Vyra chewed her lip, several moments passing between them. Arwa slit her right eye open, glancing her way. Clenching a claw into a fist, Vyra relented, "Moroc. I let Moroc breed me."

She raised an eyebrow, "your new Chamber Aide. Interesting."

Vyra scowled, "you don't understand what happened."

Arwa gave her a grim smile, as if she did in fact understand. She shut her eyes again, pressing her claw into Vyra's belly, brow furrowing in thought. "This makes much more sense to me now. Your heat it truly strong, your fertility is far greater what I sense. Peculiarly so, in fact. It is no wonder a mere Chamber Aide got beneath your tail."

Vyra grew hot, a spike of rage wracked through her, only to dissipate just as suddenly as it came. Vyra's long ears throbbed with blood. "I couldn't control myself, and Moroc..."

She swallowed, her body going flush with desire as she remembered how she felt when Moroc entered her, how it felt to be beneath him, cock inside her, her female body ensnaring his flesh, welcoming his warm breeding concoction within her womb, her untaken belly.

She flexed her jaw, the fantasy blurring her vision, hind legs stretching as her body relived the experience, all whilst Arwa continued otherworldly incantations.

A distinct moment passed while the newly rampant desire burned through her, body roiling, twitching, and seeping with need. Vyra knew something had changed, the desire coming abnormally quick, though she was unable to search for the answer. Vyra felt herself climax after some time, a phantom length of flesh nuzzled tightly between her legs, twitching with essence, body convulsing, her back arching, tail curling back on itself.

Time passed slowly, her mind wracked by her senses until, finally, she opened her eyes. She laid on her back, sprawled haphazardly, her room a mess of precious metals and trinkets as if two bulls had fought. Vyra's heart beat viciously as it struggled to maintain her depleted limbs.

Confusion quickly settled, though she was still too tired to move. Vyra turned her head and saw Arwa, herself out of breath leaning against the wall.

"You..." Arwa struggled say, "you are very special." Slowly, she knelt and reached for her satchel which had fallen nearby.

"What did you do?" Vyra wheezed, flinching occasionally as her slit twitched, the aftermath of whatever had transpired not yet fully resolved.

Arwa pulled the satchel to her chest, then leaned back against the wall of the chamber, shutting her eyes and smiling, "just a trick to ascertain the extent of one's heat. Certainly, a more direct approach than hearsay, and more pleasurable for the both of us." Arwa grinned tiredly.

Vyra leaned back, feeling suddenly very tired, and shut her eyes. She knew she should feel anger towards the creature, though as she looked for that anger, she found nothing, as if her mind was unwilling to that emotion. Puzzled, Vyra took several deep breaths, her body having finally released the pent up energy she had been struggling to ignore until now.

"What can you do for me then?" Vyra asked, her voice still somewhat strained.

Arwa looked up at her, eyes narrowing, "I sense the life Moroc has planted within you, though it is too early to know how many eggs you will bear. Regardless of the number of Moroc's hatchlings you bear, I sense you could carry many more within your womb, a fact that has impressed even my old eyes."

Vyra swallowed, her gut twisting as her fears confirms. She took another deep breath, "can you remove his seed or end my cycle?"

Vyra heard Arwa getting to her feet, then struggle towards her, a hand soon resting on her side for stability. "You do not understand, child. Your fertility is stronger than nearly all I've found - it would be a corruption of nature to halt its designs. You've been awarded a great gift."

A hindered snarl escaped Vyra, "I did not recruit you to encourage me to bear a lowly beast's offspring." Vyra peeled an eye open to glare at the old witch.

Arwa clicked her tongue, watching Vyra for a moment. When Vyra did not relent, Arwa furrowed her brow, extracting a vial from her pouch with her long fingers, "if it is your wish, then it shall be done - however much is disgusts me to do so."

The witch held out small vial of green liquids, small leafy particulate floating within. Vyra forced herself to roll to her stomach, being careful not to damage a wing, then took the vial carefully from Arwa. "What is it?"

Arwa stroked Vyra's shoulder, as if she was her mother, "just three drops a day for a week, and your belly will go cold and childless. Though, your heat will remain, that you must still contend with." She frowned, "I hope this satisfies, Great One."

The dark emerald green almost glowed in the orange firelight, its contents viscous and thick within. Vyra set her jaw, "time will tell." After a moment, Vyra waved to Arwa, "say nothing of what happened. I will reward you twice over should what you say becomes truth."

The lizard bowed deeply, "of course, Great One, your secrets will be held close to chest."

After the witch left, Vyra looked around the room, grimacing to herself before she went about the laborious chore of removing any evidence of her mess to avoid servants of having ideas of their own. When finished, Vyra opened the vial, dribbling a small globule along her index. She wasn't sure she trusted Arwa fully, though distrust at this stage would likely only ensure a future she was not sure she could navigate without fault.

Vyra sniffed it, sensed nothing of venomous nature, then drew her tongue along her index. The sharp taste almost burned her, as if some sort of exotic spice. She shuddered as it went down, the warm burning sensation traveling to her belly, a light tingling left wherever it touched.

***

It was late in the night when Vyra woke, her slumber interrupted by a sickening pain burning through gut. Vyra struggled upright, then wretched over her straw padded bedding, a dark ichor staining the red and white fabrics. She stared at the fluid, watching it soak into her bedding, the feeling of unease not entirely gone.

She made a fist, grimacing on along the short trek to the edge of her den. Raising an ear towards her doorway, she noted the quiet sound of Murgas sleeping. At this hour, she wasn't sure she entirely blamed him for falling asleep, and it wouldn't help either of them to see each other, especially in her state.

"Murgas," Vyra whispered from her side of the doorway. She waited a moment, letting him wake out of her vision.

"Great One, what do you desire?"

"Fetch me Tolgreth."

The larger lizard shifted as he got up, his aged plate grinding unpleasantly into the cold rock of her den. He left quickly, leaving Vyra to struggle back to her bedding. Murgas soon returned, her quartermaster in tow.

The taller lizard, scaled a faded red, had about him an observant eye, his features sleek and lithe; hawkish and avian, much like Arwa before him. Though Tolgreth's size was significantly greater than Arwa. In fact, had Tolgreth worn a simple loin cloth like nearly all her hundred or so subjects, she'd have thought he was one of the warrior lizards. Instead, he wore an intricately designed ring of plates and beads around his neck while his hips were wrapped by careful threading, long strips of gold-white cloth hanging like long drapes to his knees. Even his tail was nearly entirely encapsulated by threading, beads, and small sheets of thin leather, creating a patterned half covering that connected to the piece about his hips at the base of his long sinuous tail.

Tolgreth had been one of the few early followers she gained. A highly resourceful creature, Tolgreth had found the cave system she now occupied many months ago, and still hadn't fully learned all the caves secrets. He still occasionally found new areas to explore and crawlspaces only his kind could pass through. Tolgreth had been the one to source Arwa - a rather reclusive witch, or so she'd been told.

"Great One," Tolgreth bowed deeply, then looked Vyra over before turning to Murgas, waving his hand.

Once alone, Tolgreth stepped up to Vyra, looking at her sheets which Vyra had attempted to hide by laying overtop, "I see why you have call upon me this hour. When did you become unwell?"

Vyra grimaced, her belly still churning. She swallowed carefully, "I woke up with this sickness. I hadn't felt this way until now." She carefully shifted off the stains, "I'm not asking you to solve that, I just need you to remove my sheets before others see."

Tolgreth chuckled, "worried you cannot trust your servants?"

She sighed, "just do it."

Tolgreth nodded, "of course, Great One." He paused, "How did your meeting with Arwa go, did you gain any useful insights for your friend?"

Vyra nodded, "some. I will have to relate it to her later."

"Very good," said Tolgreth, nodding to himself, "I'm glad I was of some assistance to you."

Vyra got up and moved aside while Tolgreth gathered her sheets, bundling them discretely to hide the stains.

As he moved to leave, Tolgreth turned, a thoughtful expression on his face, "Great One, I thought it would benefit you to know that your new Chamber Aide has been making some rather salacious boasts with the other servants as of late and thought it would be best you knew of this."

"Moroc?" Vyra asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

Tolgreth nodded, "I have seen this before with young dragonesses. Males of my kind often make such boasts when led by one. Though that does not mean you should ignore them, for while you are well respected now, ideas like these can chip away at your image if unattended."

Vyra crossed her fingers together, narrowing her eyes, "with such a great reward, it displeases me Moroc chose to repay me in such way. Thank you for bringing this to my attention."

Tolgreth bowed, then paused for just a moment before spinning to leave, the stained sheets bunched against his chest.

When he was gone, Vyra let out a deep sigh, the air billowing from her before becoming a quiet hiss. She shut her eyes, kneading the softer hide along her forehead. Just one mistake, and here I am.

She wasn't sure how her mother had become so successful. Goblins were more unruly, aggressive, and lustful creatures than kobolds. How her mother survived her heat cycles with so many around her more than willing to gift their seed to any receptive female, she could not fathom.

The very thought of mating with a goblin seemed to stain her mind, the idea unwilling to depart from her. I have become stained like my sheets. Why do thoughts of a drake upon my back not dominate my mind?

***

The next day had not gone the way she'd hoped. While she'd meant to devote her day with her headmost warrior to secure a new source of metals, she'd instead become quite distracted, Moroc appearing in her den some time before she was to leave.

In her mind, she felt she was cementing a failure that was soon coming. She was being used by this lowly creature, a thing that had no true inner motivation to advance her situation, apart from garnering favor to gain access to her.

Vyra's ear were warm as her back was pressed into the cold uneven stone of the cave beneath Moroc's weight. It was not lost on her that despite expecting Moroc to perform the same breeding rituals, Vyra was just as susceptible, if not more so. How she'd fallen for the same reused tact - that Moroc was going to tend to her body's needs - she didn't want to fully process in the moment.

She'd attempted to bring up his boasting directly, though her mistake was not in keeping distance from him, her keen sensing picking up the reek of his maleness. He gave her empty answers, telling her he'd not said those things, or that they were mild quips with his kin, all while he seduced her base instincts.

Somehow, she'd let a claw reach out and slice the cord about his hips, letting his loincloth fall to the floor. Then she remembered his warm muzzle locking with hers, prying her jaw open gently then slipping into her mouth, his tongue wrapping about her own. Her words faltered, undone by Moroc as he busied her maw, her wings shivering at the intimacy.

Now, sometime later, the immediate focus was on the lizard positioning himself over her entrance, his hips locked into place as he straddled her lower belly, pushing her powerful thighs as he did so. Moroc stared down at her slit, his eyes wide - as if in disbelief he was so close to his prize once again.

Vyra felt his excitement, wanting him more than ever to press forward, to drive himself within her so she could again feel the fullness she'd learned to ache for from her first time being mounted. He was breathing hard, their feverish and uncontrolled oral embrace from earlier having taken much out of him, her own endurance much greater than his.

A small part of her seemed disconnected yet objective of her situation and made note that she'd at least taken another dose of Arwa's medicine before Moroc had come do his duties - whatever those duties entailed at this point.

Though, she'd come to realize a common immediate side effect was the ravenous lust that followed soon after taking it. Had she remembered Moroc was going to clean her, she'd probably have waited until after to give her the best chance of resisting him. Though that did not happen. And now here she was.

The consequences of that fault in forethought was compounded as the common male spread her for a second time, his cock parting her inflamed walls now slickened with her own fluids. Regardless of the consequences, her body loved it despite Moroc being made of a far lesser draconic purity, her passage writhing and pulling against his ridged length, even more so than when she'd first been bred by him.

Moroc was evidently caught off guard by her vigor, his sack twitching as he released a sudden spurt of semen into her, the dull scaled male grunting, hunching over her chest and pressing his claws into her hide to balance himself atop her.

Vyra moaned, her hind leg involuntarily kicking Moroc's bucket of warm soapy water, spilling its contents as her webbed toes flexed apart, a pleasurable spike snaking through her spine. Already, she felt a climax coming, her hips sensing it before she had as she found herself rocking against his member, his own pace too slow for her.

She remembered, no in no exact manner, Moroc whispering into her ears. How he'd said she would bear him a clutch of purer lizards, the words murmured and trancelike against her bejeweled ear, and how she'd be gravid with his young, belly too thick with life to leave her den. Something in her wanted that fantasy to become reality, the thought of laying her mate's eggs a heat driven desire that clung to her.

The lizard's legs steadily tightened about her belly, as if a parasite clamping to its host, unwilling to part with its prey. The two grunted and moaned as they spent themselves, Vyra's scales along her back creating a harsh scraping as she rutted the smaller, though no less potent male. Vyra found herself arching over Moroc, lathing his ears, horns, and neck with saliva, not entirely certain what she was doing as she followed every base urge.

Moroc returned the gesture in his own form as if asserting some sort of dominance, his maw clamping along the underside of her throat. The dissonance of their sizes would've made it difficult for her to take the gesture seriously had she been more mentally gathered, though in her state, the act only triggered something within her.

Vyra let out a deep warble, a throaty vibration she'd never known she could make as his fangs pressed into her softer hide. The sound was strange to her, more reminiscent of a noise a beast in a secluded glade would make. Moroc seemed immediately effected by it, as if their body's spoke in some primitive language their waking minds had no part in, his breathing becoming ragged as his cock began to swell. A burning delight cascaded, loins hot as her slit convulsed against him, her eyes going half lidded and unseeing.

The lizard let out a harsh snarl as his claws clamped painfully into her underside, his thighs tightening as he gave one last thrust into her, his sizeable length plunging deep into her, meat distending her belly as his cock filled and began throbbing. Vyra's own climax finally hit, wracking her mind with pleasure, her muscles going taut as she came, claws leaving deep gouges into the rock beside her.

The warm gush of semen filled her belly, heavy sack throbbing as Moroc's cock pumped beneath Vyra's tail, her legs spread lewdly around him. Vyra moaned, her wings and tail muscles twitching uselessly against the floor. They laid there together for some time, both tired from the expenses breeding entailed, a warm sleepiness clouding over them in their afterglow.

Moroc's maw slid from her throat, his head resting atop her chest as he succumbed to a deep rhythmic breathing, breeding flesh still sunk within her, his body's taut muscles finally relaxing. Vyra felt no desire to move Moroc, his warm slick weight providing a sort of comfort.

She felt her belly twitch, the seed within still churning, her womb welcoming Moroc's essence, guiding it to her many still unfertilized eggs. Vyra hoped Arwa's concoction worked, the warm length still snug between her legs, a worry she'd failed to confront, and would reap the consequences many times over should Arwa have been insufficient to her task.

As Vyra fell asleep, some part of her made note of the noises coming from outside her den, the quiet clicking of claws, plate, and hushed muttering. Though in her sanctuary, all of it seemed far away - something for another day. That thought comforted her, just as the warm semen within her quelled the aching heat for the time being. Vyra laid a claw along Moroc's back, shifting slightly, then let sleep take her.