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Ever since he was a little kid, Sven had wanted to be a monster tamer. Sure, so had everyone else in his home village, but that didn't make it feel like any less personal of a dream. The high point of any week was when a successful tamer stopped by the village with some great, subservient monster in tow, like a hippogryph or even a manticore, bringing exactly the kind of excitement that the otherwise sleepy little town needed. There was something so glamorous about their job, it seemed; going out into the wilds and returning with an obedient beast who could be put to work on less destructive tasks.

The monster hunters were heroes and celebrities. Without them, they said, monsters would've long since overran the towns and cities. They were equal parts warrior and mage, their job requiring both the constitution to stand fast against the monsters and the arcane skill to tame them. The methods were public knowledge; the skill to execute them was rare.

Sven, though - and all his friends - were equally determined to one day reach those lofty heights. Even if he was only a small mouse, he had a big dream: he wanted to tame a dragon.

It'd only been done once, possibly twice in known history. Once by the king whose bloodline now ruled the realm, and as rumour had it, once again by a nameless hero who had saved a nearby village, only to retreat far into the wilderness with his tamed dragon. Nobody really knew why. What Sven did know was that if he managed to tame a dragon, there'd be no end to him showing off, basking in the glory and the adoration of everyone in not only the towns, but the cities!

So that was what Sven had been working on since those long-past days. He'd practiced the spell over and over on smaller critters like wild dogs and foxes, and by now, he got it right every time. There was just one bit that he didn't feel as good about.

Sven had talked to one of the tamers as they passed through town. A majestic lion, with a wyvern in tow. He'd told him about his ambitions, and the lion had laughed.

"A dragon? Nobody but the legends can tame a dragon, kid," he'd told Sven. "Especially not as their first monster. I'd not try it, unless you're fine with getting eaten. Or you might become the pet. That's what happened to that nameless hero, y'know. He tried to tame the dragon, but the dragon ended up taming him. And that's why he left, to serve as the beast's consort rather than master."

A preposterous idea, Sven thought, but beyond that, the lion had completely rejected even the idea that a dragon could be tamed. The stories of the ancient king managing it, he said, were nothing more than myths and wishful thinking, with no proof or reliable records to confirm them. A dragon's willpower far exceeded that of any mortal species.

"So, yeah. If you're gonna try to do that, I'd recommend saying goodbye to your parents and friends first. And tell 'em to get an engraved tombstone. One that says 'here lies whatever your name is, tried to tame a dragon'."

And then he laughed again, guffawing all the way out of the village on his way towards the kingdom's center, where he'd take the wyvern to be trained as a mount for the knight's guards.

Sven was frustrated, but he was not deterred. It was his dream, after all. His life-long goal. For all his experience, the lion clearly just lacked the skill and ambition that was needed. And so, he pushed on in his practice regardless, working on his willpower by immersing himself in freezing water for as long as he could, or standing as close to the unbearable heat of a flame as he could manage.

One day, he was ready, or so he thought. He knew there was a dragon, Gral by name, who nested not too far from the village. Generally, he left them alone, unless the winter was cold and the dragon himself hungry, in which case he demanded a few sheep or cows. A dragon without much in the way of ambitions, at least not yet, probably the same relative age as Sven.

In other words, one that Sven saw himself as an equal of, presuming that the old lion didn't know what he was talking about. It was early in fall that Sven put his plan into action, leaving his home at the crack of dawn, dressed in the toughest leather that he could afford, and set off towards the dragon's den. There was something foreboding about the amber and crimson of the autumn forest, like a warning - but Sven's spirits were too high to stop, now. He'd be returning from the forest with a dragon in tow and he'd take his place amongst the legends.

It was a long journey. Almost a whole day's travel, during which Sven often had to take breaks to rest his feet or eat a bit of the tasteless hardtack that he'd brought as food. At least on the way back, he'd be riding on the back of a dragon. Gral was wingless, so unlike other dragons, he wouldn't be passing over the forest, but either way, he'd be the one doing the work.

Each time Sven paused, he went over the binding rituals in his head again. He'd stand before the dragon - as close as possible to show he wasn't afraid - and demand it submit, resisting all attempts at intimidation. Then, he'd speak the words of the spell, loud and clear. And that'd be that; no monster could, as far as the mouse knew, resist it as long as it was spoken with conviction. The risk laid entirely in that the dragon would try to distract him or break his concentration, and that it'd then likely try to eat him, if he didn't manage to hold his ground.

Soon enough, though it felt like forever, he arrived at a clearing near the base of a cliff. Somewhere in the multitude of caves lining the rock was the dragon's lair. Sven sat down on a nearby rock to gnaw on the food he'd brought, only to discover that the rock had been melted. Yes, there was no doubt about it, the surface was smooth and almost glassy to the touch. Thankfully, it was cool by now. Around him, the ground was covered in exotic plants, the kinds that normally only grew in warmer climates, probably. The only one Sven recognized were dragon lilies. No doubt that Gral was here, then, passively leaving his surroundings warmer.

In fact - as the mouse surveyed his surroundings - the flowers seemed to grow denser near a particular cave, suggesting that it was probably radiating heat... which in turn suggested that was Gral's lair. Sven dropped his biscuit in excitement, his aching legs suddenly feeling as good as new with the surge of energy. This was it! Soon he'd be heading home with a tame dragon.

Sven did understand that he had to be careful, of course. If the dragon spotted him first and simply breathed fire at him, that'd be that. He had to get close enough to cast the spell. He entered the cave slowly and carefully, admiring the crystal-studded walls. The air was indeed warmer, and it grew more so as he made his way deeper. The ground had been worn smooth by the beast over the years, too, which made the journey easy. Soon enough, the natural light of the sun faded away, leaving Sven in darkness, but as a mouse, he could see in the dark reasonably well.

One thing that he hadn't been expecting was a strange musky scent in the lair. While there was only one possible source, Sven had never really thought about how a dragon would smell. Fortunately, it wasn't unpleasant. No, that wasn't right. It was a rather interesting fragrance. Somewhere in the vicinity of worn leather, masculine sweat, animal musk and some kind of flowery tang. Almost _pleasant._It grew and grew along with the heat as Sven made his way deeper. He passed what he deemed to be the natural end of the cave and entered into a section, spiralling downwards, that Gral must've melted through the rock to make his lair safer. Wingless dragons usually did.

Molten rock had formed stalactites and stalagmites, and here the ground was so smooth it was almost slippery, bar for scratches left by the dragon's claws. If he wasn't careful, he'd-

-he fell.

Sven hit the ground with a meaty thud as his legs slipped out from underneath him, and suddenly he was sliding downwards, deeper into the bowels of the earth, unable to stop his descent until he reached the bottom. He barely had any time to react at all - or recover from the fall - before the mouse realized he was standing in front of an enormous dragon.

He hadn't been noticed, though. In fact, Gral was distinctly preoccupied with- with something. Sven narrowed his eyes, ducking behind a corner, letting his eyes adjust fully to the nearly pitch-black darkness, and then he blushed, thankfully unseen, as he finally pieced together what was happening.

The massive red dragon was stroking his thick erection, grunting with pleasure. The beast was almost doubled over, long tongue coiling around the flared tip of his cock as his talons pumped the swollen length eagerly. Now and then, a burst of flame would emanate from his nostrils as he snorted with excitement. And then there was the scent. It'd suddenly grown intense, burning in Sven's nostrils and almost making him cough as he tried to breathe as quietly as he could.

He couldn't get cold feet now. It was the perfect opportunity. The dragon was distracted, even if it was with something that was a little awkward to watch. Well, awkward and a little exciting, perhaps. Sven could feel his own cock stirring in sympathetic arousal as he watched Gral squirm and twitch, tensing up as he approached his orgasm.

This was his moment.

Sven stepped out of his safe little corner and planted his feet on the ground, focusing all his attention on the dragon. And then he spoke.

"Gral! I will tame you and bind your will to mine!" he exclaimed, continuing with the initial arcane words of the spell. Yet he constantly had to fight the urge to sneeze and cough, and to somehow ignore his now rather hard cock.

The dragon immediately froze, and then turned to face the mouse. At first, there was a look of alarm, his eyes widening... and then, a derisive snort of hot air, as Gral rolled over onto his legs again, leaving his rock-hard cock unattended.

Sven ignore the implied taunt, sweat streaming down his face as he put in all the effort he could into weaving the spell. He couldn't allow himself to be distracted for even a moment. Not even when his body began to feel warmer and warmer, his thoughts growing a little indistinct and fuzzy with the dragon's pheromones flooding his mind. He definitely wouldn't stare at the dragon's ridged cock no matter how hard it throbbed, spitting out droplets of scalding-hot precum. He could do this.

Gral, though feral, seemed to be cunning enough to have an idea about what he was going to do. His previously serious expression was softening into a growing grin as his eyes fell on the mouse's tenting pants, and his posture relaxed. The spell might have some effect on him, but only once it was complete. Rather than a growl, the next sound to leave his muzzle was a throaty, low purr. This mouse would make for a perfect mate, even if he was small.

In a blur of motion, he pounced Sven, effortlessly bowling the small mouse over, and before Sven could do anything about it, Gral spun around and sat on his face. His balls, swollen and tight as they were, still draped over the mouse's face nicely.

Sven protested with a muffled voice. He could practically taste the dragon's scent now, and felt it burning in his lungs from what little he'd inhaled in surprise. Immediately it made his cock pulse with excitement, but he managed to hold his breath to keep from inhaling any more of those alluring, mind-warping pheromones.

This wasn't a good situation. Luckily for him, it didn't matter if the dragon _heard_the spell or not, either, as long as he managed to speak every word of it. He continued, though speaking without being able to breathe in was hard, as was even moving his lips since the dragon's heavy, pent-up sack was resting against them.

It was infuriating. Sven had heard stories about the scent of dragons. Wyverns were better known for their hypnotic pheromones, but dragons evidently had them too, and with how his mind threatened to go entirely blank, he had to hurry up. He wasn't even sure if the dragon was doing it intentionally or not. Gral was merely a feral, after all, and that made it worse.

Still, feral or not, he was clearly in an amorous mood. Though the dragon's cock had started to soften when he first spotted Sven, now it was raging hard again, dripping that fiery precum all over the mouse's body. Apparently, this was how dragons signalled their interest to each other.

Sven pronounced a few more words, and then he was distracted one again by a tearing sound, followed by heated air touching his now bare groin. Gral had clawed through his pants, he realized, squirming and thrashing to throw the dragon off and yet having no success with how much smaller he was. Dammit. Just a few words more. Come on, Sven, you can- gnnh!

He moaned out the last bit of remaining air in his lungs against the dragon's musky sack as he felt something warm and slippery run over his cock. Then, with his vision starting to dim, he inhaled, taking in a lungful of his wonderful, _dominant_scent. Sven could feel his muscles grow limp, all except for that stiffness jutting out from his crotch. His mind was swimming, now, a lusty kind of emptiness setting in, in which he could barely remember what he was even doing. He wanted to... fuck... no, he was here to tame the beast, right? Instinctively, he sniffed at the source of Gral's musk again, and this time, he sneezed, mispronouncing the very last word of the taming spell.

It backfired.

Sven had no time to really realize what was happening, but a heavy, blissful sense of submission swept over him. The dragon was his master, of course. He had come here to worship the beast, to allow Gral to use him in any way he saw fit. All anxiety and all worries left his mind in a heady sigh of relief as Sven realized that he'd succeeded. He stopped struggling immediately, scolding himself for even trying to do... whatever it was that he'd tried to. He'd thought of himself as the master? It seemed preposterous now.

So instead of that foolish goal, he began to lick at Gral's sack affectionately, caressing the wrinkled, yet soft scaly skin adorning those hefty orbs with both hands.

Gral, pleased that his prospective mate had accepted his proposal, turned around again, facing the mouse, only to see him immediately opening his mouth. Not one to turn down such an eager offer, Gral took a few steps forward, until his cock was nudging between Sven's lips.

The mouse trembled. He felt overjoyed, blessed even, that this magnificent beast would allow him to pleasure him. There was no way he could take all of that beautiful maleness into his mouth, of course, but that wouldn't stop him from trying. He began to lick the bulging underside lovingly, even worshipfully, continuing what Gral himself had started and letting his tongue dance over the ridges and glans, and the leaking slit at the tip.

The next spurt of hot, watery preseed splattered into Sven's mouth, accompanied by a lustful growl of approval from his mate and master. The sound filled Sven's heart with pride just like his mouth was filled with cock, letting him know that he was doing good, making the mighty drake feel good. He swallowed eagerly, gulping down Gral's offering, and redoubled his efforts. Soon he was pumping at Gral's draconic cock with both hands in a steady rhythm, even managing to stretch his aching jaws enough to let the flared head just barely fit inside.

The dragon, thankfully, didn't thrust, recognizing the frailty of his new mate. Instead, he simply growled - and then roared - with pleasure as Sven worked on him.

The mouse huffed, feeling Gral's tip touch the back of his throat as his shaft throbbed again, the next spurt jetting directly down into his belly. The flavor was heavenly, and he continued sucking on the dragon's cock like it was the best thing he'd even tasted. Soon, he knew, he'd be rewarded with a bellyful of his master's seed, and he was drooling at the prospect of the white-hot spunk flooding his mouth. He didn't even think of hesitating as Gral began once again to tense and grunt, his cock swelling a little further in Sven's grasp.

Then, Gral throbbed, heavily. Sven could feel the beast's urethra bulging where his fingers were pressed against it as warm cum rushed through it. A heartbeat later it erupted into the mouse's mouth, and his mind went blank with submissive ecstasy. The dragon's seed was thick and rich, stringy and potent both in function and taste. There was so much of it, and even though Sven swallowed as much as he could in huge gulps, some of it still spilled out over his chest. He surrendered fully, then, giving up the last vestiges of his independence to his feral master in exchange for more of his precious cum.

Well, he would've, if the spell had functioned that way. Luckily for Sven, he'd only assumed_that's what it did, and that was where, in his haste to tame a dragon, his research had ended. In reality - while he did feel a deep and demanding drive to pleasure his master - he would be perfectly capable of acting in his own self-interest when the dragon _wasn't demanding his attention.

That meant he was perfectly capable of feeling embarrassment, too, once Gral's orgasm ebbed and the reality of what he'd just done set in. He had, hungrily, sucked off a feral dragon, and he had loved every moment of it. It was terribly perverted, and yet, as he thought about it, it brought back a warm, tingling feeling of satisfaction.

This wasn't good. Well, it was good, his dazed brain reminded him, but it wasn't exactly what he'd set out to do, was it? Sven felt dizzy as he tried to figure out what exactly had happened. He'd just been finishing up the taming spell when he'd coughed, and...

...oh no. Oh no. He was the pet. It'd taken him this long to even piece it all together. Suddenly, the cum still coating his lips seemed oddly bitter.

But, Gral was a feral. Already, the great drake had curled up to snore lazily, without a care in the world now that his male urges had been satisfied. Maybe the dragon didn't actually understand what had just happened, which meant that Sven might yet be able to take advantage of the situation. As long as Gral didn't specifically want the mouse to service him... their relationship should work much the same as if Sven was the master.

He leaned against the warm dragon while planning for the future. At least that was safe, now. Dragons were nothing if not loyal to their mates... which might be, Sven realized, exactly how the beast thought of him.

All he'd have to do would be to convince the beast to return to his home village, and as long as he took care of Gral's urges and desires somewhere in private, he could_probably_ pass himself off as a successful dragon-tamer. And at the same time, he'd get to experience the blissful ecstasy of servicing him when that _was_needed. Just fantasizing about it made his heart beat faster. His wonderful draconic master and his beautiful cock, his to enjoy. As he finally began to doze off, cradled in heat and darkness, the last few conscious thoughts were vivid mental images of himself bent over, or on all fours, inviting his master to mount and rut him like a dragoness. Of his thick, ridged shaft finally claiming him properly - he felt as if he'd been fantasizing, even _dreaming_of that moment for ages, even if he knew he hadn't - and filling him to the brim with draconic seed.

That was how he fell asleep, his master's comforting and alluring scent making him feel safe despite it all, somehow reassuring him that everything would be alright, even if he'd failed at his initial mission.

The next morning, Sven's main goal was to figure out how he'd get the dragon "home". They didn't usually leave their lairs, but they were known to cohabitate, and so if he started moving, Gral might follow.

Granted, that was all a very particular if. And of course, there were other things to take care of first. Gral, as males tended to, woke up horny and amorous, looking very pleased when he remembered that he had a good mate to take care of his lust with now. While Sven - who had gotten up a little earlier - was thinking about his plan, Gral padded up to him and nudged his rump suggestively with his snout.

Sven, distracted from his thoughts, turned around. At first, he felt a flash of annoyance before the magic reasserted itself the moment he realized that Gral wanted to be serviced. Immediately, his legs felt weak as arousal surged through him. Clumsily and obediently, the mouse tugged his torn pants down again. He barely had time to drop onto all fours over a chest-high smooth rock before he presented himself, instinctively raising his rump for the dragon to mount.

The fact that he'd barely fit never crossed Sven's mind. He couldn't think of anything except being a good, obedient sex-pet before Gral was satisfied. His body was aching for his master's cock, and he squirmed like a cat in heat as the dragon stepped over his prone body. Even that set off all the pleasure receptors in his magic-addled mind, and he moaned happily as he felt that thick slab of masculinity flop onto his back as it swelled out of the dragon's sheath.

Oh, he needed it badly.

Luckily, the feral dragon wasn't one to tease. He didn't want to hurt his tiny mate, of course, which meant the penetration had to be slow. Instead of immediately hammering into him like might've with another dragon, he carefully nudged his cock against the mouse's clenching pucker, and only then leaned in to let gravity force his shaft into Sven's body, however slowly.

At that first hint of pressure, Sven cried out in pleasure. The dragon's shaft felt immense,_but slowly - lubricated with warm, slippery precum - his entrance began to yield, aching as Gral's tapered, leaking tip pried him open, just like it was designed to do. When the glans slipped inside, the sheer fullness knocked the air out of his lungs in a dissolute, shuddering moan. He could ignore the ache. After all, _this was what his body was for, a warm cocksleeve for his master, and it had to learn and adapt.

That was the first time he'd ever taken someone. He had lost his virginity to a feral dragon, but there was no space left in his overfilled body for shame. In fact, the sheer naughty perversion of it egged him on further, all kinds of needy moans he didn't even know he could make leaving his trembling lips as he begged for Gral to fuck him. To claim him as his breeder and pet, or even mate.

Sure enough, soon Gral began to rhythmically rut into him, his thrusts unusually slow and restrained for a feral, though he sped up a little when he heard Sven's ecstatic cries of pleasure as his cock sawed over his prostate. With how thick the dragon was, and with how taut Sven was stretched around that beautiful shaft, he could feel every bump and vein, every meaty ridge. Each thrust made his body quake with pleasure, the mouse's fur standing on end and his legs twitching with senseless pleasure. When Gral pulled out for another thrust, he left behind a gnawing sense of emptiness, an aching _yearning_to be filled again. Thankfully, it only lasted a brief second before he was stuffed full of cock again, to the tune of his joyful gasps.

He could barely breathe once Gral really picked up the pace, his limbs feeling far too weak to brace himself, but thankfully the dragon's weight made sure he didn't bounce too much. Still, his own eager but neglected cock was grinding against the silky smooth surface of the rock, and that familiar pressure was quickly building inside them both. That sweet, almost agonizing tension of their balls tightening against their bodies in unison, muscles tensing as if anticipating their orgasms.

With their bodies in perfect carnal harmony, they both reached their peaks almost simultaneously. Sven let out a sudden, high-pitched squeal of ecstasy, and then felt his cum rush up his shaft and coat both the rock and his belly. But charmed as he was, his own release was secondary at best. The truly glorious feeling of dissolute, mindless pleasure came when Gral grunted and drove himself as deep into Sven's body as he could. The mouse could feel his balls pulsating_against him, his shaft jerking as he prepared to seed him, and then - bliss, as the heat erupted into him, filling what felt like every inch of available space. He didn't cum any less than he had before. _More, if anything, until Sven was wheezing with how stuffed he felt. Even with that discomfort, though, the shivering bliss of his master seeding him was far stronger, and the mouse, too, kept cumming until his balls ran dry and the last few spasms were mere dry, vain throbs.

For a few minutes, or perhaps closer to half an hour, Sven simply laid on the cave floor. He could feel the dragon's thick, wet heat inside him. It was a strange feeling - he'd never been filled by anyone before - but not an unpleasant one, even if it hadn't been for the spell. As it was, he found it very satisfying in a primal, carnal way, the tangible proof that his master had felt good enough to grant him that potent gift of seed. Even if he knew it was the doing of the spell he'd accidentally cast on himself, it still made him feel very happy and content.

Well, that was him taken care of, at least. The compulsive need to serve the dragon slowly dissipated, leaving Sven able to think again. If he showed up to the village like this, he could certainly make enough money with his fame to afford a big enough home to house both himself and Gral. That'd grant enough privacy to both do what the spell compelled him to - he wasn't ready to admit that he rather liked the mind-shattering orgasms the dragon gave him - while also accomplishing his life-long dream of being loved and adored by the people.

Gral went soft after a few more minutes, and his spent shaft slipped out of the mouse's receptive, well-bred body naturally. Sven stood up. Initially his legs felt a little wobbly, and his entire backside ached from the rutting he'd just received. A trickle of warm cum was dripping from his ever-so-slightly gaped ass, and his pants were torn too. Not as badly as he'd feared, thankfully. Gral had only slashed through enough fabric that his cock could slip out if hard. Hopefully, nobody would notice that little gash once he headed back.

Gral was eyeing him curiously.

"We should... um, get out of here. I have a better lair for us," Sven spoke, immediately feeling foolish for even trying. Gral couldn't understand his words, but maybe he could understand the meaning. He motioned towards the way he'd gotten into the cave with the glassy, slippery incline that he'd fallen down. If he didn't manage to make the dragon understand what he wanted, he probably couldn't get out of her at all.

Gral stared, for a few moments, before finally snorting. If that was approval or not, the mouse didn't know, but the dragon lowered himself just enough for the cum-filled mouse to climb onto his back.

Yes! He totally understands me!

Sure enough, Gral promptly set off. Sven ducked, pressing himself as tightly against the dragon's back as he could to dodge the stalactites. Gral's talons made the climb effortless, sharp enough to dig into the smooth rock. It was a clever strategy to make sure prey ended up trapped in his lair, while he himself had no problems leaving it.

The light outside burned Sven's eyes at first, forcing him to squint. How long _had_he been down in the cave, anyway? It couldn't have been more than half a day since he didn't feel hungry or thirsty, could it? Then again, he'd gotten more than a bellyful of dragon-spunk, which might've been all he needed.

Surprisingly, and happily, Gral followed him without question when he climbed down and set off back towards his home. Though feral, it was obvious from the curious glint of intelligence in his eyes that he knew Sven had a plan. Together they made their way through the same forest and back towards the mouse's home village. Nothing bothered them, which perhaps wasn't a surprise given Gral's size and willingness to protect his new mate, especially after having filled him with cum.

"A d-dragon!" he heard someone yell, the moment they cleared the treeline just before the plains on which his town lay. He was quickly joined by panicked yelling from several others, watching Gral approach. It wasn't until they saw Sven, walking in front but diminutive, that the yelling quieted down.

"Yep, don't worry. I tamed him," Sven beamed. His friends gasped almost in unison, and those panicked sounds of screaming were quickly replaced by oohs and aahs_from the growing audience. Sven puffed his chest out, basking in his suddenly growing fame. This was exactly what he'd always wanted. Even the other monster-tamers looked at him with a mixture of doubt and admiration, unsure if he'd really tamed a _dragon like the kings of old, but unable to deny that the dragon seemed perfectly at peace, even protectively placing itself between Sven and the rapidly amassing crowd.

And then, at the height of his excitement, Gral nudged at him. The beast couldn't possibly be horny again, he thought... before instinctively stripping his clothes off, unable to even think of disobeying his urges.

"D-dragons also make for excellent lovers," he groaned. "Very energetic... please, Gral, rut me," Sven continued, in a desperate bid to not reveal what was really going on. Certainly, it was outrageous... but the people of the village weren't known to disapprove of interspecies relationships.

Sven's cheeks burned with shame and lust as he positioned himself over the nearest bale of hay, offering his rump to his draconic lover once again - only this time, there was a massive crowd to watch his debauchery.

Gral, for his part, didn't care much at all about who saw his thick shaft slip free of its slit once again. If anything, as far as he thought at all, it was a good thing they'd all see him assert his claim over his mate. And so, promptly, he mounted his consort in plain sight of everyone.

Sven let out a high-pitched cry of pleasure as Gral's cock slid inside him once again. Thankfully, his pucker was still loose and relaxed from their earlier mating, and there was barely any pain at all this time. Instead, the pleasure was even more overwhelming now that he could really relax and focus on the sensations. White-hot ecstasy jolted through him as his battered prostate felt Gral's ridges bump over it once again.

The villagers couldn't quite believe what they were seeing. Not only had the mouse somehow tamed a dragon, but he'd managed to make the dragon his lover. The notion that the relationship might be the inverse never entered into their minds, regardless of how scandalous the two mating in public like animals in heat was. Rather, knowing that someone as mighty and strong a monster-tamer as Sven surely was would mate with his monsters opened up a whole world of possibilities in many curious minds. Others turned away, unable to quite process or tolerate what they were seeing, but Gral's natural pheromones quickly heated up all but the coldest of minds.

The situation developed exactly in the way one might suspect. Inspired by Sven and Gral, several of the village's other males stripped for some fun of their own, quickly followed by many of the women, and in only a few minutes - of which Sven wasn't aware of in the slightest, lost in rapturous pleasure as he was - there was a growing orgy centered around him. Moans filled the air as villager after villager succumbed to their urges, or at least welcomed the excuse for casual displays of lust.

Sven moaned shamelessly and uncontrollably as Gral claimed him again. Reality and its worries seemed vague and distant, lost in the pleasure the drake was pounding into him. Shuddering and groaning, he came long before his rough and eager partner did. Normally, he'd have found it rather mortifying to suddenly cum in public, shooting out his cum in long, impressive ropes, but in the state he was, he didn't care. He was squirming, thrashing, squealing with bliss as he throbbed over and over again, each buck of his cock accompanied by a clench of his tight hole around Gral's cock.

The dragon, satisfied that his mate had been pleasured enough, hilted as deep as he could into Sven's receptive ass, and once again spilled his seed in great, heated gouts into Sven's core. There it was, that immense satisfaction, the mouse's body rewarding him for what he'd done. That was, after all, how the spell worked beyond all other means; it flooded the victim's mind with happiness when they pleasured their master.

And Sven was happy. Happy enough that he only slowly returned to the real world from his high abode in the skies of pleasure. When he did, it was to a jarring sight of villagers - his friends among them - all engaged in a wild orgy. Some tamers had even followed his lead and were for the first time experimenting with _their_monsters.

All in all, it was a rather serendipitous way for things to turn out. While Sven was, from that point on, seen as rather eccentric - with odd propensities for suddenly mating with his dragon - the strange display did nothing to discourage people from seeing him as a true master tamer, and indeed he did become famous. Famous enough that more people were, from that point on, encouraged to play with their tamed monsters.

Not _exactly_what he had planned, but it worked out nicely, and with Gral by his side, even if it was for the wrong reasons, it had all worked out in the end.

And besides, he really did have a wonderful cock, Sven told himself as he knelt under his master to help him empty his balls once again.