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WELCOME, MY READERS! You ARE my readers, right? Not my non-readers? (because those guys are a bunch of douchebags) Gewd... Very gewd... And might I suppose you are here because you enjoy the insane ramblings and stangly deranged stories that spawn from my little dark corner or this site? Or are you someone that happened across it while browsing the newly posted and got hooked for whatever reason? Or, maybe you are the one that is like myself, and every once in a while, latches onto something new, and flips a few key words, and ta-da, here I am. Waiting. Watching. Knowing the moment will come that some, if not many, will enjoy my work, and become ensnared in my generally darker stories. Or gritty. Or 'realistic', like some people have randomly claimed.

But you see what I'm trying to say? I'm different, apparently more so, if some certain people are to be taken seriously. And I find the most fun when I show others my crazy side, and get them to like it as well.

So sit back, lean forwards, or whatever you intend to do when you are about to really get into something. Because it is about to hit you in metaphorical nethers like a metaphorical Sex-Machine.

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To tell this story, one must have the details. For, as they say, details are everything. Except in this story, you won't have the details when you need them. They will be there, sliding in the subconscious. Teasing with a boldness.

Bold as a nearly unclothed dragon is sleeping against a titan of a tree, deep in the jungle.

Bold as the small symbiotic wasp that landed upon the loincloth of said sleeping male dragon.

And, bold as it was, it was still afraid of dieing. And even as afraid of dieing as it was, it was much more afraid for it's unborn young. So with a last hum of it's small wings, it banished all thoughts its small, yet remarkable brain could muster, and sank it's drooling stinger into the soft, yielding slip.

Quite fortunately for the symbiotic wasp, and fortunately or unfortunately -depending on who you ask- for the young dragon male, the tip barely penetrated the soft leather. Just the very end of the leaking tube-like stinger grazed the outer edge of the male dragon's cloaca.

Resulting in a tickle.

A pleasurable little tickle.

That important detail resulted in altering the already near-risque dreams of the slumbering scaly. Further resulting in him almost coming to, but not quite. Just enough to shuffle the cloth a bit to the side. It wouldn't do to cramp ones member in the loose confines of ones own waist cover.

The wasp, meanwhile, had realized it had errored. Buzzing around the area it had poked so boldly, it watched as the being shucked open the offending garment. Seeing the slowly growing penis start to slide from the warm, wet confines of the dragon's nether, it rejoiced in overflowing emotion for one so tiny as it. Floating downwards with a shuddering whine of wings, it landed ever so lightly upon the heating malehood. Opting for the more direct approach, it quickly backed into the urethral valve, making sure not to accidentally inject the stinger prematurely as it had almost done just moments prior.

If it could have, it would have squeed in delight. The temperature was just right! Grinding backwards faster, the entirety of the small bug finally became completely housed by the fleshy appendage.

Now, Ardune -for this is what we shall call the male dragon in lee of not being able to pronounce, nor hear properly, the actual name of him- was starting to have more and more sexually aggressive dreams, seeing as it was fueled on wholesale by the happy movements of the squirming bug now securely lodged in his inner workings. Vague, unspeakable acts of debauchery and many other things just as delectably decadent were spinning through his young mind as is generally wont to do with the younger and more fertile of men.

Until, that is, a certain detail awoke him with an alarming start. We will call this detail The Beginning, as this was in fact, truly, the beginning of this story. That detail was the sting of the symbiotic wasp deep inside of him, in front of the short tube to the seminal vesicles.

And that hurt. A lot.

Ardune was in so much pain he spasmed silently. He couldn't speak, breath, think. It was a horrible nightmare of unvoluntarily clenching muscles trying to work out the indescribable pain that had just set fire upon his insides. But the brain is strong, even when the mind controlling it is not strong enough. With a pain laced intake of jungle air, he rolled over, clutching his abdomen.

As the pain flair began to subside, it was replaced with another feeling. And not that of pleasure.

No, it was, truth be told, a horrible sick feeling deep inside, welling up from what seemed like the most hideous of hells, all laid out just for Ardune.

He threw up.

Pieces of partly digested jerky and plant materials flooded his mouth in what felt to him as a great flood. Centuries seemed to pass as he wretched and vomited more of his stomach's contents. It wouldn't stop, it seemed, even though it only took him for about half a minute. But the sickness lingered, and he wretched once again after witnessing the sickly splashes upon the tree he had made. Moving away from the mess, he crawled along the ground with his arms, his legs refusing to function. A few yards later, he stopped and dropped against the ground, wishing he would just die, breathing in shallow intakes of earthy, loam scented air.

Deep inside, the wasp was riding out the massive fluctuations in the surrounding body. It had known the great movements would take place. In preparation, it had extended its small body as far as it could, thinning its self along the ejaculatory duct to prevent its own demise. At one point, it had been sure it was going to perish, but fate, fortune, or preparation was on its side. It survived the ordeal, barely worse for wear. Satisfied with the current state of affairs, it began its slow -and very painful for Ardune- process of reshaping its parent host body with genetic templates far older than Ardune's species' collective existence.

But those details are not to be shared just yet.

The next, and very noticeable, detail, was a young female, and she comes into play many days after The Beginning. Her name will be Chorrut, since it, like Ardune's, would be impossible for humans. Canid in looks, tall and lanky, but with solidly toned muscles, she stands near 2 meters tall, bipedal. She is naturally and artificially hidden by a light tan fur with many variations of green dyed on, the perfect build for her role as her tribe's main scout. Her muzzle, tilted out and down, is sleek and skinny, but strong. She is completely without clothing, aside from a small band of curled fern fibers around her left arm, forming a thick, dark green ring at the top of her bicep, and she holds no tools. There are two small fern fronds braided into her waist-length, dark-brown hair, the only symbol of status in her clan.

Coming back towards her tribe's main camp, she is stealthily slipping between what available shadows there are. Not melting into the scenery, but more seemingly as if she is commanding herself from being seen, with sheer willpower alone. Her methods are very efficient, but she is not so consumed in her deliberate movements that she would miss an odd scent in the air. A strange smell. One that, at once being so alien in nature, seemed to be so natural to her it was like walking into her own tent back at the settlement. Coming to a natural stand still, almost hugging a trees lower roots, she flares her nostrils wide, and inhales deeply. Something in the scent, so familiar... so... personally natural... Another deep lungful, and her fully opened eyes dilate slightly, the low light pouring into her retinas, burning into her photographic mind.

Sliding along the trees body, the scout accidentally crushes a seed pod, causing a small pop to emanate from below her foot. It is so small, it would seem as if it were an afterthought, but to the veteran scout, is is loud as an explosion. Mentally berating herself for her carelessness, she refocuses on her steps, bringing them back under near mechanical stealthiness. Resuming around the tree, the curious canid smells the air again.

The familiar-but-not-familiar scent is getting stronger. Holding her breath, she puts her arm out and lets the natural jungle air currents flow around her, making her hair tingle ever so slightly. Quietly following the trickle of air upwind, Chorrut stealthed her way for a few hundred meters, before coming across a small clearing, not naturally formed. Signs of an animal in distress are clear in the rich soil, as well as obviously clawed marks upon the nearest fern bush, its large feathering leaves growing so high, they reached the lowest layer of the surrounding trees. An indistinct line of moved earth leads off into the jungle, quickly disappearing in the underbrush. Following in the direction of the disturbances, her nose picks up the horribly domestic scent in much larger quantities. In fact, she was so set on the smell, she lost the usual awareness of sounds around her. So into the simple act of just breathing, the scout nearly stumbled across a large dragon male, sitting propped up against yet another tree's base, orally ministering to it's enormous penis.

Grinding to a halt, she stared dumbfounded by the miraculous sight. She had seen males before, sure. Everyone of mating age went to the rock-cities, where the males dwelt, when their heat came upon them. But this... this was new. It was extreme. She had laid with a few dragon males herself, and she believed she had a relative size for their species, but this thing would break her into pieces if it somehow ever got shoved into her. It was almost as long as she was tall from the waist up, and thicker, as well. It was so ridiculously proportioned, it was almost comical. It was wet, and very shiny, and a steady pulse made it throb in a hypnotizing tempo.

And it was pink. A pale, pale pink, fading to light green near the base, and then darkening suddenly as it met the cloaca entrance.

Taking a deep breath, Chorrut stayed stock still, not wanting to disturb her find. Except, she found to her dismay, she couldn't stay still. She was shaking slightly, her heart rate elevated, her nerves tingling. Taking a step closer, she stood before the male. Quite suddenly, she realized she was panting. The tidal flood of the scent was overwhelming her nostrils, and she had automatically resorted to mouth breathing. Trying to remain in complete control, Chorrut grabbed some dirt in her paw and put it to her nose, filtering the air she slowly took in through it. Repeating the process a few times, she became aggravated. It wasn't working. She was trying to smooth out her flaring emotions when she finally realized that the dragon had no idea she was there.

His eyes were closed, both sets of lids pressed tightly shut, denying the dangerous world around him involuntarily. He was breathing heavily, his lithe chest raising and falling in a strong pattern, taking and releasing air through his flat, flared nostrils. His wide mouth, coming to a small, rounded beak at the front, was gaping open, his long, thick tongue curling around and over the head, sometimes even dipping into the winking urethral opening. Wet slurps and very low groans emanated from his fervently working throat, interspersed occasionally by a wet suck.

Knees trembling, Chorrut looked down at Ardune, a sudden longing welling up in her lower abdomen. But she couldn't, she scolded herself. It wasn't right. She wasn't due for her seasonal heat for another two moons at least, and she should only pleasure herself with another tribe-mate. The elders would have her hide, if she didn't kill herself in shame first.

But... they didn't have to know... right...? Just a... a little taste... Yes, she decided. A small taste to satisfy her curiosity, then she would wash it from herself in the Mother's River to the east of her tribe. No one would know but herself.

Yes, that was acceptable.

Kneeling down in front of the oblivious dragon, she took hold right below the massive head with both hands. Ardune moaned loudly, startling the nearly hypnotized scout. Rallying herself, she pulled the behemoth towards herself, then gently cradled the the body against her chest as it fell forwards from its own weight, the bulge along the bottom lining up nicely between her breasts. Wrapping her left arm around the shaft, she moved her right to cup the back of the crown, one of the large, soft ridges resting along her forefinger.

Moaning in need, Ardune bent forwards, and began licking the back of his shaft, his breathing reduced to quick pants in between the rolling movements of his head. On the opposite side, Chorrut leaned in, her lips barely parting, her tongue edging out slowly. And then she was touching the tip, just below the winking opening, and Mother Goddess, the flavor! Bitter, salty, tangy, and by far most the sweetest thing she had ever experienced, more than any ripe fruit she had ever eaten. Quickly, she began lapping at the broad underside of the head, cleaning away the dried strands. But it wasn't enough. She needed more. She needed... the source! Lapping away, drawing heated cries from the male, she began to wander higher along the giant head. Coming to the tip, she circled all around the urethral entrance.

Suddenly, the entire mass throbbed hard, and a small glob of clear liquid welled up. The scent, already strong, punched her all too pleasantly in the face. Hungrily, the scout swallowed the exquisite nectar, licking around the head again, unconsciously trying to find more that she might have missed. But she needn't have worried; more of the sweet smelling bodily fluid pulsed out of the winking opening, drooling out with each dull reverberation in the stupendously large penis. Desperately, Chorrut licked at the small stream, greedily mashing her mouth against the heated skin, causing the male to grunt and moan even more. But the flow was too slow, and she became more desperate. With overzealous vigor, she pushed her still lapping tongue into the wide slit, lapping up and gulping the meager amounts noisily.

The flavor!

Fervently, she lapped at the inside of the now throbbing lips. Craving... no, needing more, she pushed her muzzle in with a wet squelch, the urethral lips almost coming to her eyes. Without even thinking, she began to suck in through her mouth, suctioning the flow to her, as if her life depended on the ingestion of the powerful fluid. To add more power, she began to pull back her head with each vigorous suck.

And then, suddenly, she had an entire mouthful of the viscous liquid.

But even more startling, the massive head applied it's own suction, catching the canid scout off guard. Behind the giant member, Ardune gasped and fell back against the tree, gripping the puffed out lips of his cloaca. Loudly keening, he tried to hump his waist forwards. Instead of moving forwards, he flexed new, weak, barely used muscles, providing more suction along his urethra.

And that pulled Chorrut in even further.

But the sudden change in atmosphere around her head alerted her currently suppressed survival instincts to danger. Panicking, she yanked back, away from the dark suction that should not be. Adrenaline pouring through her, she frantically jerked around, this way and that, trying to free herself. Crying out, the release of the fluids from her mouth ruined the vacuum that she was fighting long enough for her to pull out until her eyes were free. Relief flooding her system, she started blowing out what air was left in her lungs, copying the accidental tactic.

With a wet shluuup , Chorrut was abruptly released, causing her to fall onto her back, the monster penis falling atop her. Panicking for another moment, she scrambled from under the throbbing flesh, raking at the ground in her effort to get away from the plaintively sucking opening. Standing up, she panted heavily, her body slightly shaking from the multitude of emotions warring within her. Aggression, anger, relief, panic, and strangely enough, sorrow. Looking down at the male dragon, she began to understand his predicament. She watched with pity in her eyes as he tried to pull the huge appendage back to himself, groaning all the while, drool slipping from his gaping mouth.

Backing away from the sad scene, she nearly bumped into a feral male deer she had not noticed. Obviously just out of adolescence, its antlers no more than small bumps on it's head, it leaned forwards and licked along the right side of her muzzle, tasting the fluids still matting her fur. Watching it in shock, Chorrut could only stand dumbfounded as the long tongue stroked along her chin, cheek, brow, then nose. With a boldness she had never witnessed, the young buck walked in front of her to administer the same treatment to her left side.

Still stunned and trying to get a grip on reality, she noticed something red at the very edge of her periphery. Looking with just her eyes, she was surprised even further by the sight of the buck's long and skinny member, deep red from fresh blood pumping to it. As she watched, it bobbed up every second or so and grew longer, a little wider, each heart beat of the deer pushing it's young pride forwards and out, until at last, it strained at a steady length. With a sudden surge of guilty relief, Chorrut realized that the buck seemed a much more reasonable size in comparison to the giant thing nearby.

But right about then, the buck had finished cleaning her face. Losing interest in her, it bent its neck down and sniffed at the dragon's second head. Licking it, it started to parody her actions from just moments before, sticking its muzzle into the winking opening and began to drink the heady juice. With a shudder, the penis clamped onto the buck's face, pulling hard with suction once again. Watching on with sick fascination, the canid scout could only tremble as the buck willingly pushed deeper. It's long neck could be seen swallowing, as a small flood of the fluid was secreted again, much like for her. As the head began to crawl up along its prey, much like a snake, the buck's penis throbbed and jumped harder, much as if someone was pleasuring it.

Without realizing it, Chorrut took hold of the buck's bobbing pole. Looking down in confusion, not sure why she had done it, she almost let go. When the buck thrust hard into her hand, she automatically clamped down, fingers vicing firmly around the hard, taut, red flesh. Feeling the buck's entire body shudder, she began to slowly run her hand along it's member. Understanding, if just subconsciously, that it didn't have long to live, she figured she could always make its last moments a bit more enjoyable. Taking hold with her other hand, she worked the shaft like a mealing stone, feeling it twitch and jerk in reaction with every heart beat.

As the penis continued to suck in the buck, Ardune wallowed in guilt free pleasure, completely oblivious to what was happening. The massive amounts of sensory overload coming from his mutated penis were literally blocking his ability to formulate thoughts, or even register most other types of sensory inputs. It was just wave over wave of intense pleasure, and he was happily drowning in it, for want of a better simile.

The buck, however, was starting to hump sporadically into Chorrut's hands. Guiding the thin head to her mouth, she licked once, then slipped her muzzle over it, and began to suckle gently. Instincts kicking in, the deer pushed hard, falling forwards more into the suction in it's aggressive attempt to mount the invisible doe. But there was no doe, there was only the canid's mouth, and 'mount' her he did. Getting pushed down by the struggling forelegs behind her, the thin penis pushed against the back of her throat, making her gag. Throat muscles spazming around its embedded shaft, the buck drove harder, only encouraged by the fluttering squeezes. Falling forwards even more, the canid's throat evened out, providing a straighter path in which the invading glans penetrated yet farther.

Choking now, the scout sputtered and tried to get out from under the buck, putting her hands on its hind legs, trying not to succumb to full blown panic again. Unfortunately, the young deer was so far into the penis that its shoulders were being pressed upon, forcing them under Chorrut's arms, essentially locking her in place. The fact that it was humping erratically did not help much, either.

But, just as she thought she couldn't take much more of it, the buck shuddered, pulled back slightly, pushed hard once, twice, then, on the third, forceful slam, buried its suddenly ballooning length as far as it could and came for the first time in its life. Eyes wide, tears streaming down her cheeks, the scout could only swallow painfully along the slightly more inflated member in her throat, skin flushing as she realized the light slapping on her chin was the oval testicles of the deer. Chest burning from asphyxiation, her stomach started to fill with the hot ropes of deer seed, each shaking twitch announcing another load being shot.

Moments later, the buck's penis was losing its thickness, slowly deflating to just the rigid, oversensitive core. Once more relief flooded Chorrut's system, and she took a shuddering breath of air through her nose. But the movement agitated the deer, and to her horror, the penis began to swell up again. Expelling her breath, she took as deep a lungful as she could take, and then her throat was closed off again, sealed by the throbbing member.

Meanwhile, Ardune's penis was having trouble with getting around the deer's shoulders. It was locked wide open, extended to the max, copiously drooling liquids to keep the prey interested in staying inside, and still trying to inch forward. Behind it, arms and legs spread slack and twitching, all the dragon can do was lay drooling, eyes glassed over, chest heaving, riding the stupendous hurricane of endorphins.

Once again thrusting, the buck had nearly run out of useable air. Still busily swallowing the bait, the deer began to slow down its enthusiastic mating of the canid's throat. Pacing itself, the still eager male rocked back and forth, grinding along the tight, rippling canal it was enjoying so thoroughly.

Taking her hand off of the buck's hind legs, Chorrut grabbed what remained out of her mouth of the leisurely ramming shaft, and began to jerk it back and forth, trying to expedite the impending orgasm. Squeezing at random, she tried to swallow around the member, but gave up, her throat hurting too much from the strain.

Suddenly having the attentions on its member, the buck went back to thrusting energetically. Sensing its own demise, instinct drove its hips faster. Underneath, the canid was rocked along, her throat beyond raw. Once again, near her own limit of air, Chorrut tried to remain calm, easing her body with the increasing pace. But her prayers were answered moments later, as the invading member rocked hard, pressing all the way in again. Sucking vigorously, even though it burned, the scout could feel the slight increase of size as more blood pumped in, then the spasms and hard thrusts accompanied by hot slashes of fertile cum, gurgling deep inside of her. Then the weight of the buck fell on her.

It had finally succumbed to asphyxiation, and fainted.

Fortunately, this rapidly retracted the softening member from Chorrut's body, allowing her to take wheezing breathes around it. Coughing and hacking on a last little spurt that had almost gone down her airway, she curled up to the side and slid out from the limp body. Standing up seemed impossible at the moment, so she laid out, arms spread eagle as she just watched the little bits of light playing through trees and ferns. Regretting ever having come near the cursed spot, she sent a silent, but wholehearted prayer to her Mother Goddess for sparing her, and vowed never to come near a male again.

Deciding she would have to risk standing, she struggled to rise. Insides sloshing awkwardly, she raised herself on her hands and knees, trying to keep balance without moving too much. Her whole body ached like the one time she had fallen and rolled down the hanging hill just outside of the rock city. Standing up proved a little difficult, but not undo-able, and after a few minutes of hanging onto low swinging vine for support, the world stopped tilting enough to allow her some semblance of balance.

Looking back at the buck, she was stunned to see just the last of the rear legs getting pulled in. Looking closer, she noticed for the first time raised bumps with indents at regular intervals along the outside of the dragons gargantuan member. With a queasy feeling, she watched as a wasp like bug pulled its way from an indents in one of the bumps. They were access and release points for some strange wasp like hive, she realized.

She had to tell the village elders. They needed to know everything. Even the parts she would sell her soul to keep. They needed all the details, so that they would know how to plan properly.

And so, with that, Chorrut set out for her clan. And when she got there, she would tell them all she knew. Even the parts she really didn't want to mention.

But there were details she had missed, even with her photographic memory, for she had been lust-hazed at the time. And the biggest detail of them all had squirmed its way up her urinary tract when she couldn't feel it through the bombardment of utterly bizarre strangeness that had been surrounding her at the time.

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Okay. So, I was reading a few things online containing Cock Vore a in 2010. One word.

FAIL.

It's like I'm reading the same two stories with different characters in different time lines. HORRIBLE. It is as if the same author is writing two different types of stories over and over, just pumping out as many as possible in a certain amount of time. So, I'm going to one up those guys. I'm doing my own. One that isn't simple. One that doesn't have certain little similarities that are driving me mad.

You need to know that I spent about 6 hours drawing two pages of a comic for this. It was epic. It was awesome. But they were thrown away (NOT MY FAULT!) when I was moving around in Florida. I'm so freakin' pissed about that...

Anyways.

The pictures are gone, among many other things of mine, and there was nothing to do but start over.

Except, it isn't that simple...

I can't redraw it, because every time I try, I start to go nuts because it is wrong, wrong, WRONG!

So. I made a vow to myself. I would write the story instead.

If you think this one isn't going to be continued, you've got one hell of a surprise waiting for you. (It is just taking some time to... uh... get written...)

Hope you enjoy the crazyness of it all. :3

One last thing, would this be considered extreme rating?