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Dragon society was, as everyone knew, infamously competitive and combative. As such, it was no wonder how popular fighting sports were, including but not limited to competitive wrestling. This was also how the dragons, both drakes and dragonesses, solved most conflicts: through a round in the ring. The winner was then declared to be right, regardless of whatever circumstantial evidence existed, as long as both parties agreed to solve the issue by fighting rather than more traditional – outside of dragon society – means like referring to particular passages from old lawbooks and the judgements of peers and professional judges.

But that wasn't what made dragon society strange. After all, disputes have always been solved with violence in every society, if not as the mainstream option, then at least on the fringes. Whether it was two gentlemen dueling at dawn for the right to a lady's hand, or a fistfight in an alleyway settling a dispute when both participants were frankly entirely too drunk to really argue such things anymore.

No, what made dragons and their style of legislation rather odd to any outsiders was the specific nature of these fights. The dragons, equally known for the ravenous lusts and boundless sexual appetites, fought sexually, and any good fight was equal parts carnal prowess, pure physical skill, and of course, showmanship. It wasn't just about winning, though certainly that was the most important part; almost as important, though, was winning with style and dominating your opponent with equal finesse. And not all fighters were dragons, either. Species from all over the world came to participate in the world-famous fights, and all obeyed the same rules.

For fights between males and females, the goal was simple; for the male, to mount and breed their opponent. For the female, it was to make the male cum without being inside her, thus establishing dominance and wasting their seed, at which point they were considered the loser due to the natural masculine refractory period.

For fights between two females, in turn, it was purely a matter of making their opponent cum until they could no longer continue to fight. This naturally meant that the fights took a little longer, but to nobody's great surprise – and the boundless horniness of most males – these fights were just as popular as the male versus female ones.

For fights between two males, this usually meant mounting your opponent and seeding them, and thanks to their unusual draconic biology – or draconic magic, in the case of other species – this effectively transformed the losing victim into a female temporarily, until the eggs had been laid. Some drakes found it exciting and nerve-wracking, others embarrassing, and yet others found it rather arousing. Of course, only the most shameless drake would openly admit to the latter, but there was, regardless, a certain pattern of sex-fighters losing deliberately to live as much of their lives as possible as females.

Naturally, then, while all combinations had their fans, the male-on-male matches had the highest viewership, and were generally considered the peak of issue-resolving fight entertainment. Dominant males enjoyed watching other males get dominated, submissive males enjoyed the fantasy of losing a fight, and for just about everyone else, the shows were great material for any lusty pursuits they might dream of.

And of course, the biggest fights weren't about any kind of conflict resolution at all; though originating as such, they had become entertainment and sport over the years, and not only that, but the largest, most popular sport in all of the dragon realms. Dragons, just like any other creatures, were happy to create conflicts simply for the sake of resolving them in a manner somewhat akin to human professional wrestling, but far more genuine and sexual.

Not all fights were big events, of course. Local, small disputes were resolved at local courthouse-rings, televised only on equally small, local channels. But everything was televised, because there was money to be made, and there was always someone interested in seeing how their neighbor fared in a fight, and whether they ended up with a clutch of dragon eggs or not.

It was at one such local courthouse-ring that Lucerianth, or Luce for short, was currently getting ready for a fight. The young drake paced restlessly back and forth outside the ring. He wasn't as enthusiastic about the fights as others of his kind were, but there was no escaping the fact that it was simply how things were done here.

His opponent was a dragoness a few years his senior, there because of a small case of harassment against his sibling. Specifically, she had seduced Luce's little brother, or at least pretended to seduce him, only to spring an entire audience of her watchers on him when he was too aroused to see through her trickery. The videos of him desperately trying and failing to hide his excitement and embarrassment had leaked online, probably deliberately, and well, here they were.

At this point the specifics didn't matter much, even if Luce personally cared; they almost never did when a conflict reached the ring. Instead, it was now purely about winning, and that was what Luce planned to do.

“Oh, come on, do I have to wear that?" he groaned, when an organizer handed him what could best be described as sexy bikini bottoms with a somewhat armored piece of stiff fabric that still somehow only barely covered his sex.

“Yep, it's tradition. Look at sexy as possible while winning," the organizer nodded. “These were really popular with the bipeds just a few generations ago-"

“Yeah, okay, I got it," Luce sighed, trying to swallow down his nervousness and having very little success doing so.

“Besides, you're a purple dragon. A rare sight the people want to see more of. So, get over yourself," the organizer replied.

There was something interesting to be noted about all that. Dragons didn't wear much in the way of clothes by default, and that one article made them more attractive to each other. He brushed his pubic fluff aside and up, trying to squeeze himself into the garment, until it eventually slipped over his pubic mound. The irritating part was that he now had to take it off to when the time came to breed his opponent, but that was part of the showmanship, shedding your clothing with flair.

Ah, well. With the armor on and his mane carefully groomed and tied so as to not cover his eyes in any position, he was just about as ready as he'd be. It was time to win this thing, and then hopefully spend a lifetime before having to compete in the ring again.

He stepped into the ring. Opposite him, a black dragoness did the same, wearing an equally revealing piece of clothing that hugged her slit so tightly that it almost seemed to be pushing into her. She looked around, clearly savoring the attention of the small crowd, and so, Luce was forced to do the same, posing in a virile manner for the audience.

“This morning's conflict resolution is between these two total no-names from somewhere in these parts. We'll think about their names if either manages to win," the organizer shouted, mockingly. “The crime is that the dragoness supposedly harassed the drake's younger brother. Should she win, she did not. Should he win, she'll be punished, and not just by bearing his eggs!"

The audience – maybe a dozen various dragons of every type – cheered at the perhaps worrying fusion of entertainment and the legal system. The bell rang, and the fight was on, with only the two most classic rules: if he came outside of her, he'd lose. If he came inside her, he'd win.

She lunged for him immediately, with a confident snarl, trying her best to slip behind Luce quickly enough to grab his cock, but he had already moved by the time her front leg swiped through thin air. It all came to him with an almost alarming instinctive clarity, like his body knew exactly how to move to this dance. She pounced again, missing the drake and ending up facing away from him, and he Luce immediately dipped his head under her tail and licked, roughly, along her slit, outlined by the ridiculous underwear. She let out a shrill moan and whipped around to face him once again.

“Just give up and run away. Your brother did," she growled.

Another strike. This time, Luce slammed into her side just as she was off-balance, and sent her tumbling down, thudding heavily onto her side in the ring. The audience cheered, which felt incredibly weird, but it wasn't unwelcome.

He was nowhere near done yet, though. Luce immediately followed the dragoness to the mat and pinned her down with the weight of his heavier body. He pulled her tail up and then placed a paw over her slit, kneading it so that the cameras and audience would see her wetness soaking the fabric. And she was quickly getting wet, her body – like all dragons – automatically reacting to a stronger, more dominant dragon, regardless of what her mind thought of the situation.

She bucked, but Luce coiled his tail around her neck to keep her down as he kept rubbing. There was no strict reason for him to get her aroused, or to make her cum, but it made for a better show, and he was getting into it. He could feel his cock slipping out and straining eagerly against his own revealing underwear, and he raised a leg to let the audience see the bulge, framed by his smooth pubic fluff.

The audience cheered again, louder this time, when Luce slipped a finger deep into the dragoness, right through her increasingly wet underwear, and then, he tore them off entirely, throwing the flimsy piece of soaked fabric to the audience.

This time, when the dragoness bucked, she did manage to force Luce off her, but even as she scrambled onto all fours, she was visibly shaky. The crowd was screaming now, telling him to finish her – by mounting her, naturally – but she was still dangerous. If she managed to pin him down, it wouldn't be that hard to make him cum, not after how turned on he had gotten rubbing her wet, squeezing slit. That was the real danger, the risk one took in sexual combat; the more intimate the attack, the stronger the effect on the attacker, too.

Unless there was an orientation mismatch, anyway. But that didn't help much against physical sensations, Luce thought, only to realize that he had gotten distracted enough by his thoughts for the female to grab his cock through his armored bikini. It was a weak, amateurish attack – she simply grabbed him and seemed to assume that to be enough – but it still did make him throb and moan before he kicked her off.

This time, she looked worried.

Maybe for someone completely inexperienced, like whatever males the dragoness was used to, just a grab would have been enough, but while Luce was young, he had mated previously. It'd take a lot more than just hope to get him off. But he felt emboldened; the dragoness had clearly bitten off more than she could chew, having very little defense against him.

And that meant it was time to give her a big clutch of eggs. This time, it was Luce who pounced, and unlike him, the female wasn't fast enough to dodge. He landed on top of her and, while pushing her face down onto the ring floor, pulled off his undergarments in one smooth motion. His hard cock sprung out, scattering droplets of precum in a rather dramatic arc.

“Let go!" the dragoness screeched, now truly forced to confront what she had agreed to, but the time to apologize had been before the match even started. Now, Luce had no choice but to breed her, so that he could be considered the official winner of the dispute.

Not that it didn't feel good as he pushed the dragoness' tail aside and in one sharp thrust, slipped his cock deep into her unwillingly welcoming body as it could reach. He gasped with pleasure, feeling her insides squeeze him, welcoming him as a lover rather than an intruder, even as the dragoness squirmed in vain.

“Looks like our boy's got quite the advantage. Shouldn't take him long to cum with a pussy that tight 'round his cock!" the announcer laughed. They were always mean to newcomers, only to warm up later on as a fighter became a known quantity. “So, it's looking like it's egg time for our nameless hen."

Luce began to thrust. Sharp, jagged thrusts at first, the kind he knew drove most dragonesses wild as he hammered right into her g-spot. Sure enough, soon she was moaning in between curses and pleas about not wanting to have whelps yet. Resistance only went so far when the body was entirely willing.

And make no mistake, Luce thought, she had entirely agreed to this outcome, too. Just as he would've agreed that she was right, had she won. Or bred, if he lost against another male. He felt no guilt as he hammered into his defeated opponent harder and harder, savoring the way her muscles clenched around him, the way her wet depths seemed to swallow him up and beg for his seed, and of course, the way those moans of protest turned into ones of pure pleasure, as well.

“Breed her! Breed her! Breed her!" the audience cheered and chanted. Though Luce never planned to have to do this again, it still made him feel fiercely sexy, and he made sure to angle his thrusts so that the audience could see every virile inch of him slide into the hen's sex.

In just a few more thrusts, he gave the audience what they wanted, and erupted deep into the dragoness, flooding her ripe draconic womb with spurt after spurt of very potent seed, marking his victory both inside her, and for the audience, who could follow along with every steady throb of his cock. He roared out his dominance for everyone to hear, and she slumped down, weakly quivering in the throes of an unwanted orgasm of her own, yet unable to do anything to keep her body from greedily drinking every drop of offered seed.

Luce pulled out and left her dripping. He struck a pose, and one last time, the audience cheered. He felt like an action hero.

“Looks like our boy – name's Luce, they say – had a much more convincing argument than the hen! Well, enjoy maternity leave!" the announcer laughed, mocking and cruel, as was tradition in these matches, while both participants cleaned themselves up, one proudly and other shyly, trying in vain to wipe up the cum around her slit, where it kept leaking out.

Luce's brother would get a formal apology soon, and that'd be that. Problem solved, and he'd never have to show up in these ridiculous fights again. All he had to do was to not get into arguments, which was at least theoretically possible. But just as he finished toweling himself clean, someone approached him. A human, old enough to have some wrinkles and casual enough to have stubble on his face, but with a businessman's smile on his face and a thousand-dollar suit that he absolutely didn't need to be wearing.

“You could make a lot of money doing this," he said. “Bit of a natural talent, you are."

Well, Luce had all the usual questions, all the doubts one would be expected to have, but the human seemed to have a genuine offer. If Luce took another few matches, he claimed that he could make the young drake rich.

“Doesn't even matter if you win or lose in the long run," he laughed. “Just determines if you get admired for being strong and dominant, or for being a slutty pregnant hen."

And that was true. While the wrestling was for pure entertainment, there was an entire position on the ladder of fame for “chronic losers", who usually became sex objects for the audience. The most popular, though, were naturally the winners, or those who almost always won. Some made millions from their athletic and sexual skills, the agent told Luce.

“So, what'll it be? Seize the opportunity and become rich or famous, whatever you want more, or go home and waste all that talent? Because if you want to earn money, I have a fight for you tomorrow," he stated, narrowing his eagle eyes as he gave the drake a very early ultimatum.

Despite his general discomfort with the idea of forcing himself on his opponents – though he reminded himself that everyone in these matches was enthusiastically consenting, just as the dragoness had been – Luce's family wasn't well off. The thought of earning that much money was an irresistible lure. He'd be able to provide for everyone he cared about, himself included. He'd be able to afford even those elusive luxuries.

Luce agreed, with some hesitation, to his new agent's proposal, and joined his stable of up-and-coming wrestlers. The next week was suddenly looking busy. Tomorrow, far sooner than he had expected, he would have a match against another male – meaning higher stakes – at a real arena rather than the courthouse ring. If that went well, he'd shoot a promo, and then go on to fight an old professional. An eastern dragon, according to his new agent, who was an expert at using his elongated form to restrain his opponents.

“Very nice guy, though. Regardless of if you win or lose, you can get some valuable pointers. And if you lose, we're shooting you laying those eggs for another promo, just so you know. But you gotta win against the dude tomorrow, at least. Red dragon, they say, recruited just like you were."

Red and blue dragons always looked down on the purples, who were a hybrid of both. That automatically made Luce the underdog. But people loved an underdog, didn't they? He just needed a good night's rest, and he figured that he'd have a pretty good shot.

To his surprise, the night was good. Perhaps there was something to be said for sating his draconic urge to dominate with the hen from earlier, but whatever it was, and despite his anxiety, Luce slept better than he could ever remember sleeping and was up fully energized well before the match started.

He was already there, warming up, by the time his agent and the red drake both arrived an hour later, just a little ahead of the match.

The redscale said nothing, as if Luce was beneath him, only giving him a condescending sneer and then focusing on his own agent and the growing audience. Fights between two young males were always considered especially exciting because while any sufficiently experienced fighter had probably been bred at least once, for a young male who thought himself invincible, a defeat was always immensely humiliating even if the punishment wasn't necessarily seen as such, and though it didn't have to end a career, many chose to end theirs rather than risk being turned half-female for another clutch ever again.

“In short, they're idiots. The people who think like that. One of the richest fighters in this country? Plays a bad guy and loses all the time, and he has the time of his life. We still gotta see which way you go though, kiddo," the human told him. “Besides, the thought of it getting bred as a male stopped being embarrassing fifty years ago, no matter how some atavistic ass thinks."

“And this whole colorism thing?" Luce sighed.

“What- oh, you mean that thing with them not liking hybrids? Yeah, fuck that too, the current world champion is cyan, so that's blue and green, who the hell cares?" he laughed. “Then again, I'm not a dragon. Seems dumb to me, either way. You show that fucker what for. Can't imagine he's gonna last long, you just gotta make sure you don't let him give you a blowjob or whatever."

“Any tips on how to beat him?" Luce asked.

“Naw. I mean, just rub his cock. Young drakes are easy like that," the manager laughed.

So, when the bell rang and the two fighters sized each other up, at least Luce had a plan. Not a great, technically accomplished plan, certainly – but a plan, nonetheless. They were both wearing similar armored undergarments, so Luce had a rough idea of what worked and what didn't after yesterday's attempt to just squeeze him to orgasm.

He still felt awkward about the whole situation, and he knew he had a long way to go when it came to technical skill, but Luce tackled the redscale effortlessly as his very first move that night, again to thunderous applause from the much larger crowd. It was as easy as throwing his entire body weight at the other male, the impact was a meaty thud and left him on top.

The problem was that simple pins were easy to counter for anyone with any experience, and Luce learned that quickly when the other drake began to rub him, kneading the fabric of his underwear against his quickly responding cock, and unlike his previous opponent, this one clearly had experience in pleasuring males. His fingers slipped under the fabric and quickly sunk into Luce's slit, coaxing his shaft out and into his nimble digits.

Luce, naturally, quickly disentangled himself with a frustrated huff. This fight would be trickier than he had anticipated.

“Looks like Luce and Skye are sizing each other up after that initial cockrub!" the announcer called out. So, the redscale was named Skye. Not that it mattered; Luce expected to win. “I get the feeling this is gonna be a short match, whenever one of 'em gets a proper advantage over the other!"

Luce knew that he was right. He'd have to end this quickly. Skye's fighting style was reactive and defensive; he hung back and waited for Luce to strike first, which made it much harder. He had to be unpredictable. Or play to that redscale ego. It was a split-second decision; it was one or the other, but knowing dragons – especially the primary colors – he repeated the same tackle he had attempted earlier, once again sending them both rolling into the ropes.

Skye let him do it, because he thought Luce was repeating the same mistake. It wasn't unusual for fighters of this level to only have one move. Only this time, they didn't land in a position where he could reach Luce's slit. Instead, using the momentum of their fall, the purple drake rolled his opponent onto his back, and then folded him into-

“A mating press! A classic hold that ain't easy to squirm out of!" the announcer yelled, with a practiced, excited tone. “But Skye's got to squirm out of it or he's going to trade that cock for a bellyful of eggs in no time!"

There was a sudden flash of panic in the redscale's eyes. He realized that he'd made a mistake, and tried to kick Luce off as he began to rub over the other male's cock, but he had absolutely zero leverage in his doubled-over position. And he seemed very sensitive with how the first hint of pleasure – Luce wrapping his digits around the other drake's emerging cock – made him moan out. The pleasure instantly ruined his attempts to focus his efforts on getting Luce off of him.

And that gave the announcer some more material as the vibe of the match quickly turned from neutral to supporting the soon-to-be-winner. “Uh-oh! Looks like young Skye is a little pent up or just damn sensitive! Not a great way to start a match!"

Just as the commentator, or announcer – frankly, Luce had no idea what term was more accurate, being that he did both – said that, he suddenly felt the other drake throb. He gave a strangled, reluctant moan, but Luce felt warm heat soak his paw, and the jumbotrons to the sides of the arena all focused on that one detail; Skye's still clothed groin visibly throbbing and twitching, obvious even through the fabric. As if that wasn't enough, the screens showed a trickle of white leaking from between the fabric and the drake's scales.

“Looks like we've got a quick shot in the ring! How embarrassing, especially given that the reds look down on the purples!" the commentator laughed, and the audience joined him. Skye was, Luce supposed, lucky that a blush was invisible on his already crimson face, but the other drake still screwed his eyes shut, the afterglow insufficient to cover the humiliation. He was mortified and slowed, with his movements suddenly very stiff compared to minutes ago.

So, Luce tore off that undergarment, and the enormous amount of cum barely contained inside it splashed over Skye's chest and face, soaking not only his bush and mane, but all of him, in his very obvious shame. The audience's roar was deafening. There were few things that dragons loved more than total humiliation.

“Oh, man, that's a blow right to the ego, ain't it?" the commentator shouted, reaching what surely had to be the highest volume he could muster. “No way he's coming back from this!"

Indeed, Skye had perhaps realized that with his cock limp and retreating, he had no chance of victory, and that meant he had no choice but to accept his contractually obligated punishment, as Luce somewhat awkwardly pulled off his own underwear to reveal his cock to the cheering audience. They saw it only for a brief second before he plunged it inside the other male, lubricated by his own wasted seed.

He felt just as good as the dragoness had, owing in part to the fact that his body was already reshaping itself in surrender. It was simply how dragons worked, a chilling – but pleasurable – reminder that Luce was no different. His body, too, would transform into that of a female if he got mounted. He'd become fertile, he'd have eggs, and he'd keep that needy, draconic pussy until the eggs had been laid. There was no getting away from that.

Thus, he thrust harder into the other drake's increasingly feminine slit, feeling wetness engulf him and new muscles massage his cock, while Skye in turn panted and squirmed, quickly drowning in pleasure, and so to speak, seeing the upside of losing a match, no matter how much he looked down on his opponent. All that remained was the seeding, and the audience was already chanting for Luce to do just that.

He wouldn't disappoint them.

Soon Luce was hammering into his all-but-defeated opponent like a machine. It still felt wrong, somehow, to force it like this, but the adrenaline of the fight egged him on, and while he had more endurance than the embarrassingly quick shot that Skye turned out to be, he was still young. It only took him a few minutes to reach his peak, and he nearly folded the redscale in two as he hilted, thrusting as deep into his now entirely feminized and fertile sex, roaring out as was tradition, and came.

He filled the other drake, sealing his fate as a broodfather, or if he'd end up wanting it, a dragoness. They didn't have to change back, after all. In a way, it was intoxicating, and the pleasure was intense enough to overcome all that hesitation about force once again. It was quickly becoming second nature for the young drake, and each pleasured throb and twitch of his breeding rod reinforced that feeling. He really was made for this, wasn't he? This was only the second clutch of eggs he had sired, and the first in a fellow male, but he already felt like he was an expert at it. His body was, he supposed, shaped by millennia of evolution for this singular purpose.

Until some stronger male pinned him down and seeded him in turn, anyway. Though he didn't want it, the idea – especially as filtered through Luce's lust-struck mind – did send a shiver of excitement through him, squeezing a few more drops of his seed into Skye's clenching hole.

Slowly, reality set back in. The audience was cheering, the commentator was rambling on about something that Luce could barely understand at first, before he snapped back into the present.

“-thoroughly bred! Congratulations to our winner, the newcomer to the ring of champions, our purple – or violet, if you're so inclined – Luce!"

Luce pulled out of Skye's defeated body with a wet slurp, his ridged cock leaving the other male's slit gaping for a second as he was left on his back and leaking for the camera. Again, he posed, and the audience cheered. It felt wonderful, like he was soaking in their lusty admiration.

Before he knew it, he was posing in front of a camera in a far more intimate situation. His career had well and truly kicked off. Outside of the studio, he had signed what felt like a dozen hindquarters, the very first members of his new fan base. To his surprise, it was both males and females, each of them liking him for their own reason. Some hoped he'd beat everyone he fought. Others instead hoped, in turn, that they'd see him pregnant soon. And naturally, given the carnal nature of the fights, some wanted him to breed them, too.

But today was not the day for that.

“What's your goal as our newest rising star?" the interviewer, a dragoness in her prime, asked, holding the microphone up for Luce. “Are you looking to become the best there ever was, like so many before you, or to breed as many as possible… like just as many before you?"

“Well," Luce replied, desperately trying to remember the lines his agent had given him. “I'm not picky. I'll take both. All the success I can get!"

“A lofty goal!" the interview chuckled, almost managing to make Luce think she was actually amused. “How about showing the audience what you're really working with? So far, the poor things have only seen glimpses during your matches!"

His agent had told him this would be part of it, too. It was sort of like contractually obligated exhibitionism. With a flourish, Luce reared up onto his hind legs and let the camera take a good, long look at the bulging fabric that covered his groin.

“Impressive," the interviewer grinned. The camera zoomed in so close that Luce could just about feel the eyes of thousands of watchers on his shaft, and the sensation turned him a lot. He watched himself throb on the direct television feed. “Mm. Want to show us even more? Just what kind of length those you beat get to feel inside them?"

“My pleasure," Luce replied. He felt almost drunk on the attention, and again that feeling overcame his natural hesitation. And, well – he also had to convey confidence to make it in this business, regardless of how much he won or lost over the coming months or years. He leaned back into the conveniently placed ottoman, and slowly pulled his underwear off, this time for admirers rather than competitors, His thick, ridged shaft slipped out, as ready to breed as it had been in the two previous matches, and again, the cameras caught every little throb.

“Very impressive," the interviewer purred. “Might have to ask you to sign my ass too, when you're less busy. But I'm sure you're looking forward to your next match, aren't you?" she asked.

“I sure am. I'll be facing the veteran fighter, Zhulong, next. And I'll show him just what I'm capable of!" Luce answered, flexing his cock and making it bounce for the camera, and Zhu – if he was watching – so they'd all know what to expect.

In truth, he was a little nervous. The older drake had almost been world champion several times, but had always fallen short, meeting a strong opponent just at the finish line. That said, they also said he was gentle and caring. Maybe, regardless of whether Luce won or lost, he'd at least be able to learn something from him.

It was only a few days until that match, and those days passed in what felt like a heartbeat. The fights were quickly becoming the main thing that Luce looked forward to each day. His hesitation to mount his opponents had just about entirely faded away by the time he was back in the lit-up building that housed the grand ring. The same place, where perhaps one day, he'd be fighting for the title of world champion, if everything went his way. And if everything did go his way, he'd be rich, and could retire early. Or not. The world would be his oyster.

He spent those between-days working out as hard as he could, but also studying both himself and his opponent. Zhulong was an eastern dragon with scales of brilliant red and fur as white as clouds. He had never the ultimate prize, no. But Zhulong was known for being an almost unbeatable opponent, though – as the article said – he seemed to enjoy losing just as much as winning. Though he presented as male, he didn't, it read, exactly identify as such. He was simply Zhulong, torch-dragon. The easy confidence only made Luce more nervous, but there was nothing else he could find that might help him. As such, he kept training, pushing himself harder and harder and only giving himself maybe half a day to recover, just before the big match was to take place.

He wouldn't lose this one. He couldn't lose this one, he told himself as he once more walked towards the arena. Logically, Luce was perfectly aware that he could, and sooner or later, would, but his youthful pride didn't let him consider it in any great detail. He was determined to win, if for no other reason, then because he needed the money.

Oh, what he'd do with the money was something to consider later, too. As Luce pulled on his official string-bikini uniform to cover his slit, all of the thoughts and plans made his head feel crowded with thoughts, with too many things that required his attention. But for now, he had to keep his mind in the game, as the combatants were once again introduced.

The commentator, this time someone with a deep yet feminine voice broke the silence just as Luce climbed not the ring. “Okay. Audience. Drakes and dragonesses. Today, we've got something special. Our famous almost-champion Zhulong – the noodle, if you will – versus our new up and coming would-be almost-champion, Luce!"

In front of him stood a white eastern dragon, who was old to carry himself with an easy confidence, but whose eyes were still sharp and attentive. Just like the westerners, and Luce himself, he was wearing the same kind of bikini armor that barely concealed anything; not his slit, nor the well-groomed blue pubes, or lower mane, as Luce had heard some refer to it as.

Zhulong said nothing, so Luce didn't either, simply bracing himself in anticipation for the match to start. There was a different vibe to the fight, this time, and Luce didn't like it. Zhulong exuded quiet confidence, even if his sharp gaze ultimately conveyed… what was it? Kindness, perhaps.

“Everyone ready? Our contestants sure look like they are. Just a fair warnin' to Luce; the noodles are damn good at holds!"

Luce took a deep breath. The announcer began the countdown, and the crowd joined her in doing so. “Three, two, one, fight!"

Typically, Luce had been the first to strike. Not so this time. The easterner moved so fast that Luce barely saw him. His motions were snakelike, acute, immediate. On moment he was coiled up, the next he was moving, and then he was coiled up again, around Luce, squeezing the breath out of his lugs. Luce wheezed, putting all his strength into prying Zhulong off him.

“Ooh, not a good start for our rising star," the announcer laughed. “That full-body hold is what broke so many would-be champions just ten years ago! Looks like this might be over way sooner than we thought!"

It was almost impossible how fast and strong the eastern drake was. He wasn't, perhaps, as strong as Luce, but he knew how to leverage his elongated body to deprive him of that advantage in muscle mass.

“I'll be gentle" Zhulong whispered, squeezing harder.

Luce, incensed, managed only to roll himself over, freeing one leg, trying to regain some measure of control, but with little luck. He was already running out of air as the other drake squeezed him like a constrictor. This was, it dawned on him, a fight he actually would lose, especially once the other drake, contorting himself once more, managed to twist so that his snout was flush against Luce's groin, and yet, his own fabric-clad cock was poking at the very same spot.

The lack of oxygen burned in his lungs, a void where air should've been, and somehow it made the world feel a lot less threatening than more. A dazed mind couldn't worry as much, perhaps that was it, but regardless, Luce felt his judgement rapidly slipping away like sand. He kept struggling to pry the serpentine drake off himself, but quickly found that he had already burned through what little strength remained in his muscles for such attempts.

And the world just felt fuzzier and fuzzier. Regardless, it was to some measure of horror that Luce realized he was getting hard. Quickly. Zhulong had only nuzzled his slit and he was already swelling up, as if slowly asphyxiating had become a kink for him. And maybe it had. It was freeing. There was nothing he could do, even as the easterner loosened his grip enough that he could draw in some breath.

“Yep, looks like that's curtains for Luce," the commentator's voice echoed somewhere distant. “Short fight, but hey, we get a show with a drake that's barely conscious at all."

The audience cheered. They came for a show. Which show mattered a lot less; either it was the fighting, or it was what Zhulong planned to do next. Luce's head lolled as the other drake took his cock into his mouth. And he came immediately. The pleasure was so sudden, from having all his wits squeezed out earlier, that the embarrassment of his instant orgasm was delayed by what felt like minutes as pleasure instead shot through him like overwhelming, crushing waves that left him desperately trying to breathe in at all. Sparks danced at the edge of his vision, and he squirmed in the older dragon's grip, neither hearing nor seeing anything, and feeling only the shuddering and immense pleasure, enhanced by how dizzy he felt.

He emptied everything he had into Zhulong's mouth, in thick, helpless spurts. Thankfully, mercifully, he couldn't hear what the commentator said about that. Luce only knew he quickly went soft afterwards, cock retreating back into his slit.

The slit that his opponent's bare cock was already pointed at. Naked. When had the drake even stripped him? When had he stripped himself? It was difficult to figure out what order everything was happening in. The other male was, at least, mercifully gentle, treating Luce almost like a lover rather than his rival. Where many might've simply choked him unconscious, Zhu released his grip enough that he could breathe again.

That was when the sting of failure really struck, deep into Luce's heart. He had effectively lost, hadn't he, and now he'd pay the price. Even if he could suddenly struggle free, he couldn't really mount the other male, now. Yeah, that's why everyone goes for the early orgasm, smartie, he scolded himself.

Zhulong's mouth slipped from Luce's cock, having sucked him dry, as that shaft fully disappeared back into his slit. The serpentine dragon then curled so that his head was right against Luce's shoulder, and whispered a few words of encouragement while prodding his draconic cock against Luce's slit.

“Everyone loses. Learn to enjoy it," he said.

Luce snarled at him. On a logical level, the purple drake knew that Zhu was right. Nobody made it to world champion without a few stumbles. But that didn't soothe his bruised ego, at least not until a sudden buck of the eastern dragon's hips slid his hard, throbbing cock into Luce's slit.

He was surprised that it was not only totally painless, but pleasurable. The moan left his lips without any conscious input. Of course it felt good. It's part of your biology.

The transformation, as Zhu's shaft pulsed inside him and leaked his dominant precum deep in Luce's slit, began with just a tingle. At no point did it become unpleasant. It was more akin to a tingling itch, and then pleasure, of all things, as Zhulong robbed him of his masculinity, stroke by smooth stroke, each sinking his shaft deeper as Luce's own obediently retreated, instead forming an entirely different organ inside him.

A womb, for Zhu to fertilize, and which he would keep until he was done laying a clutch for him. Just like every other drake who lost against another male. He could already feel the warmth from his lower belly, a demanding need to be filled. When a womb formed, it was always in heat to begin with. And his was no different. In fact, as unfamiliar muscles squeezed and clenched around Zhulong's cock, all Luce could think about was how he felt like he needed this.

The audience was fading away. From his mind, at least. In reality they were probably enraptured seeing the young drake with the vibrant purple scales get bred. In just a few rutting strokes by the easterner, his pubic bush was soaked with… not precum, no: his feminine juices. The lubrication, meant to make penetration easier.

Luce screwed his eyes shut. Though Zhulong was gentle, making sure he felt only pleasure, it was a hard pill to swallow. Knowing that, in just a minute or two, he'd feel that thick cock throb and bounce inside him, and it'd seal his fate as, well, a pregnant dragoness. Partially, anyway. He whimpered and moaned as Zhulong's cock struck something sensitive inside him, digging into new and sensitive nerves.

It was all so deeply intimate despite the public and rather erotic nature of the situation, and it felt amazing. In his heart, Luce knew it'd feel even better when the other male filled him, inseminated him, bred him.

He had already lost, anyway. Luce chose to enjoy the rest of their rutting, and moaned out loud as Zhulong began his final rapid-fire thrusting towards climax, slapping against Luce's body with each motion of his hips. Pleasure engulfed every inch of Luce's body, a far deeper and more all-encompassing pleasure than he had ever felt before. A female's reward for letting themselves be bred, he supposed.

And gods, was it ever worth it. He felt Zhulong twitch in his depths one moment, and then the next, he was full of deep, intimate heat that bathed his new cervix in virile, egg-making white, and he eagerly accepted the offering. That first splash was so intense that Luce came violently at the rich, soupy mix of hormones and feel-good chemicals that his body immediately rewarded him with, as his cervix parted just enough to allow the next gush of thick, potent seed deep into his new womb.

It was happiness, joy, bliss. In a searing instant between spasms of pleasure, Luce was instantly hooked, or damn near to it. He understood exactly why some drakes chose to continue being broodfathers, or even transitioned fully. It made no sense to be humiliated by it, as the redscale had been. It was heaven, feeling his new pussy receive every spurt of offered seed, feeling it soothe all his inner itches, and cumming so hard that those milking muscles would be sore for days.

Who even cared about winning?

No. You care about winning. You just need to finish creaming your brains out first.

And he did. Why hold back, when he was already full of cum? Luce came so loudly and proudly that he might as well have ruptured a few eardrums in the audience with his cries of pleasure, surrendering to ecstasy shamelessly now, and his immense climax guided by the older drake's knowing touch, rubbing and grinding, ensuring the Luce drank every drop of cum pumped into him.

It went on for a while. And then, just as there was nothing left of Luce except a sticky, wet, panting mess with lust-matted mane and pubes, the lights went out. The match had been called, and it was over. Luce had lost, and what awaited him was a few months of something entirely different. Fatherhood, at least as far as laying a clutch meant that.

Zhulong held him gently, certainly no longer in a fighter's hold, but more akin to a lover's caress. And to be fair, for the last few minutes, they had truly been lovers, not enemies. And that feeling, at least, echoed in his heart as Luce listened to the older drake speak.

“Sorry. Everyone has to learn to lose, and it's better if you learn it with me," he murmured, as the arena slowly emptied, leaving the two fighters to wallow in the pleasure and defeat.

Luce felt a certain hostility towards the eastern drake for breaking his early, if short streak, and even more so for breeding him. Having a pussy was a weird sensation, but it wasn't unpleasant, nor alien. It was simply part of him; a part that might come and go. Yet he already dreaded laying the eggs surely growing in his makeshift womb; the act felt so deeply feminine.

“I'll help you, if you wish. With both this and everything else. I think you show promise, and more than that. You show talent. Maturity," Zhu explained. “But everyone loses, eventually."

“Do they?" Luce growled. “This early in their career?"

“Everyone loses. Nobody wants to watch a fighter who only wins," Zhu chuckled. “So, if you were to win endlessly… rest assured that your agent would have you take a fall sooner or later."

“Would've preferred later," Luce replied. It was hard not to feel frustrated, hurt, and angry, even though his orgasm had certainly been incredible.

“We don't always get to choose," the older drake pointed out.

Luce rolled his eyes, though it was hard to stay angry. There was a certain biological aspect to it all. A warm fuzzy glow that made everything feel alright; a heat sparked and immediately sated, accompanied by a deeply feminine sense of satisfaction that Luce, though he perhaps didn't care to admit it, knew was part of him, regardless of his desires.

Being full of cum felt amazing. Maybe he simply had to accept that he was half a dragoness for now, and, well…

…maybe, just maybe, he could enjoy his morphed set of genitals for a little longer. Just as a little treat to himself, for a break from the fights. And there was Zhulong's offer, too.

“What are you offering?" Luce asked. “When you say help, what is it you mean?"

“I mean I will be your mentor, if you want me to. I'll train you. Of course, I never made world champion, but I have beaten, at least once, everyone who ever became one. You included, if my instincts haven't begun to fail me yet."

“Me? A world champion?" Luce asked. He clenched, unwittingly, around the other drake's slowly softening cock, drawing it back to full hardness instantly. The feeling of having those inner muscles was still a little odd. But using them felt good.

“I think so," Zhulong purred. He tightened his body a little more firmly around his soon-to-be pregnant half-dragoness, or broodfather. What a transformed dragon preferred to be called varied. “You have the same fierce drive all champions I've faced had."

That was something to think about, certainly, and having an expert like Zhulong say it was an instant ego boost for the younger drake. Zhu's claws brushed through his lower mane, caressing him slowly. “And of course, I will also give you all the sex you wish until you lay your eggs," he added, this time with a distinct amusement in his voice. “Becoming a broodfather is to be rejoiced. Though perhaps starting after we're out of the ring."

Luce couldn't help but smile, and then laugh. Maybe it wouldn't be all that bad. Now that he had a taste of what sex with a feminine slit felt like… he wanted more.

And more than ever, he truly felt that hunger for success. Luce accepted the older drake's offer; he would train him, teach him, and show him all the tricks he needed to succeed for as long as his talent would carry him.

But first, they'd go to his place and explore Luce's new body a little more. Most people seemed to agree it wasn't an experience to be humiliated by, with him already being pregnant anyway, he couldn't wait to feel those orgasms again. And so, he steeled himself for a world of new experiences, just preceding his next dive into the fighting scene. And this time? He'd be prepared for opponents like Zhulong.

After he was done enjoying his cock, anyway. Might as well.