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Veshra reaches her hand out, trying to push herself up or crawl away or do anything to escape, but a heel crashes down onto her hand, making her hiss.

“Now, now, now," Galenna says, licking her lips. She lowers herself, pressing her massive tits against the shape shifter's back. “We haven't finished the reprogramming quite yet, dear. I can do all sorts of things to you that'll make you the perfect pet for the dragon." She says this, the two cocks floating up toward Veshra's face. “Now, be a good girl and sing praises to your new master…."

—-

The farmer's field is barren as the harvest has already passed, but there is still much work to do, tending to the planning for next year. Even so, without the manual labor in the fields, the farmer can instead work on more pious pursuits.

Blair Garten carries a few buckets in her hands, the chill of the air making for a brisk time as she marches from the farmhouse toward the large shed. She only stops her march when the shadow spreads across the sky.

“Well, I'll be…" she begins, whistling at the sight of the brilliant curvy dragoness landing in front of her. “If'n it ain't one of the fruits of Xasandra herself! Shucks, it's certainly an honor!"

Clarendala crosses her arms over her chest, rubbing herself gently and looking downward. “Oh, please, stop. I'm not special—not anymore, at least."

“Don't need to tell me much about what happened. I was at the Tournament, after all." She continues walking along the path, wrapping her arms around the buckets. “Come along and tell me what's troublin' ya. Maybe a bit of clerical guidance will help ya along yer path."

The dragon follows the farmer gal, and though she is taller than Blair, she feels so small. “I haven't heard from momma in a while, and not since Draykan and I… and then he said to her."

“I know, I know," Blair says, stepping up to the doorway of the large building. She sighs and shakes her head, placing her gloved hand upon the entrance. “Mamma Xasandra was primed to come back to the world in a big way durin' the Tournament. Her worship is so low that it's just my folks and me. And I haven't even found a man who could give me a perfect bun in the oven to continue the tradition. All-in-all, that dragon isn't the worst you could do. But after what he did, I reckon he's pretty much off-limits."

“You mean, you're not sure?" Clarendala says, slumping her shoulders. “So, you haven't heard from momma, either."

Blair shakes her head. “Fraid not. Bein' a goddess generally means tellin' someone a long time ago what to do and not repeating yourself."

“How can you be so sure that momma's listening to you, though, if you can't hear her voice, or you can't give her a hug, or you can't even see her."

“Oh, I see yer momma, alright," Blair says, placing a hand upon the holy symbol stitched onto her overalls. “I see her work every day and throughout the year."

“How?"

“Come on then, lemme show ya." She smirks and pushes the door open.

Clarendala peeks in curiously before she steps in, seeing the large open chamber before them. There, probably a dozen bovine females sit on benches, naked and casually doing little activities, such as knitting or reading, or writing. One has a calf bundled up and brought up to her breast, and the child suckles eagerly from her breast.

All of them look up as the two emerge, and Blair walks up to each of the cowgirls, placing a bucket down in front of each of them. “Got a special treat for y'all today. This is Clarendala, a bonafide believer from the outside world here to join in our worship service."

Clarendala blinks, scratching her nose, but she doesn't protest or correct the cleric. She just watches as Blair walks up to one of the women, patting her shoulder. “How ya feelin' today, Bertha, old gal?"

“Oh, I'm just brimming with the delight the mother goddess gives me, Miss Blair!"

“Good ta' hear. Need a little help with the supply today?"

“Oh, I think I got it!" Bertha says. She leans forward, holding her tits in her hands, and squeezes her breasts together. Milk pours out from her ample chest and into the bucket, and she sighs in delight.

“Praise the mother who makes the mother of us all," says Blair as she walks toward Clarendala. “Whatcha think?"

“I don't think I quite get it," Clarendala says.

“Each of these ladies feels connected to their goddess when they sow and reap their crops, whether from the fields or their bodies. Some of the sowings is going on right now, too, if'n you wanna see that."

Clarendala blushes. “N-no, I can't. I promised myself."

“Ah, right, to that stud dragon?" Blair barks, slapping Clarendala on the back. “You got your work cut out for ya since your momma wanted you saved up for somethin' special and all."

“Yeah…" Clarendala says, slumping forward. “If only I could have kept myself from being too horny."

“Ain't nothing. Each of us needs to spread our legs and take in the seed. Shucks, if'n I wasn't a priestess, ah'd be a momma many times now, myself. But you're here because you wanna connect with her, yeah? Any particular reason for that?"

“Well, the truth is that I was hoping to find out what's going on with the egg that Draykan sired. And I want to know what momma knows about the Dragon Council."

“Want all the eggs in one basket? I get ya. Come over here."

“Now, then, we're all gonna pray and hope that Xasandra gives us guidance on how you can be the most fruitful, even if you fell off the path, alright? Now, that'll be easier if you had some fruitfulness to reap or sow. But since you ain't gonna sow with no one, this'll be difficult."

“What if I reap?" Clarendala says, gulping.

Blair opens one eye, a smile on her lips. “Are ya sayin' what I think yer sayin'?"

Clarendala grabs one of the buckets and puts it in her lap. “I think so, but I haven't said anything to him yet, and I wanted to be sure."