Dragon Alchemy
A while ago I wrote several stories as part of a daily story challenge. I've been wondering if I should post them at all, since they are decidedly more like lemons than actual stories, but several of my friends have recommended I share them anyway. I will be posting one a week for the next few weeks. As usual, I don't really care about spelling or grammar, please restrict comments to the story itself.
*CRASH!*
Glass shattered everywhere, the broken vial spilling all but a few drops of sickly-sweet smelling fluid upon the cold, unforgiving tile floor. A moment of shock, I cringe as all eyes in the room abruptly turn to focus on me, snickers popping up sporadically from clusters of other students. Grinding my teeth against their jabs, mumbled declarations of 'butterfingers' and 'clumsy' accompanied by more laughter follow me as I head for the mop and bucket kept by the door.
"Everything alright Mr. Anders?" Mr. Allan, the Bio-chemistry lab instructor, barely gives me a glance as I walk past, probably just making sure I'm not trying to leave early. He couldn't be expected to give up his crossword puzzle for such mundane issues as actually helping the students, or answering our questions of course. But woe betide any who tried to skip out early.
I mutter something non-committal in reply, hurrying back to clean up the mess. Work resumes around the room as the novelty of my now ruined chemistry experiment wears off.
It shouldn't have upset me, really-I'm sure the laughter was good-natured after all. But maybe the stress of too much homework, too many heartless professors trying to make some point by running their students through pointless hoops, too many group assignments where I had to do all the work or risk failing, too much ridicule at the lockers for being the 'geek', the 'nerd', or whatever the current popular term happened to be, maybe all that had finally gotten to me.
Thankfully I wouldn't have to deal with it any longer. If my figures were correct, the little side-project I'd been working on after finishing the stupidly easy lab assignment had finally paid off. Ever since finding that book in the library, the one with curious arcane symbols all along the cover and binding, I'd spent every last moment of my spare time working on this single potion. I planned my revenge thoroughly, pouring over the diagrams and mixing the chemicals outlined in the musty old pages, while gloating fancifully upon the results listed in crisp, if someone archaic lettering.
Thankfully I had enough of the elixir left over even with the spill. Taking the second beaker off its burner and twirling it around to cool (a bit more carefully this time), I waited in eager anticipation. Then quickly, inconspicuously making sure no one was watching me, I tossed my head back, parted my lips, and poured the fluid down my throat.
Another crash! The vial slips empty from my hand to shatter upon the floor yet again, but this time not a trace of the potion remains behind. Perhaps it was surprisingly spicy, perhaps it didn't taste as sweet as it smelled, or perhaps I simply wanted everyone looking at me again. Perhaps I wanted to hear their muttered jokes and insults turn sour in their mouths, replaced by whimpers of fear and confusion.
It was... electrifying. A minute ago I was just an underweight nerdy high school senior, but now, now I had become something much more interesting. Power surged through me as the chemicals went to work, racing to my limbs like liquid heat burning the blood from my veins. I must have cried out, falling to the floor writhing and jerking as my body tried to cope with this foreign magic suddenly thrust upon it. But I felt no pain, only tremendous, overwhelming pleasure, and intense blazing energy.
That potent brew of carefully measured chemicals went to work with impressive speed, giving no one in the room time to react until it was all over, yet I felt every last second as if it were an eternity. The changes felt glorious; I could never hope to describe them adequately.
Before the last of the fluid had drained into my throat I felt my heart pounding, enlarging in my chest as the elixir poured into my bloodstream, fueling the rest of my body with the energy needed to complete the transformation.
It started at my extremities, my hands first. Every nerve ending lighting in pleasured fire as my hands stretched, my wrists warped, fingers and bones snapping and reforming, fusing into three thick digits, with one opposing, each quickly growing a long, sharpened talon. Muscles tore and re-knitted themselves to grant flexibility, range of movement and strength unheard of in human hands, but these were no longer hands. Flexing my new paws I could quickly see that each talon was individually retractable, a fearsome set of weaponry that would compliment well the rest of the changes I knew were to come.
My feet followed next, broadening swiftly as my heels arced upward, tearing out of my flimsy rubber shoes with just a moment's tightness. It felt like I was flexing my feet to stand on tiptoe, still lying upon the ground though. And then, my shoes were gone, utterly destroyed by the growth of my feet, and at the same time shredded to pieces as massively thick, sickle-like claws ripped from the ends of my toes. I had three of these too, on clearly digitigrade paws with a hallux talon protruding from the heel.
The changes raced upward, inward. My thighs broadened, my calves bulging out like thick bowling balls. I longed to stand upon my new legs and flex them, to show off the power in every inch of that tightly packed muscle. They bent back upon themselves like coiled springs, the speed and reflexes of a cheetah held in check, simply waiting to spring forth. My hamstrings felt like a pair of stallions, my hips straining to contain the energy burning inside. But I knew my balance wasn't up to it, and besides, there was more left to experience.
My forelimbs had grown too, biceps and triceps swelling but also shifting. I no longer had two arms, but rather four legs, the front pair less obviously geared toward racing, but with impressive compact strength that I knew would match those in back. For a moment this must have looked a bit grotesque, such swollen and muscular limbs attaching to a small and scrawny torso. I didn't care, it felt too good, and it wouldn't last long anyway.
My chest began to fill out, ribs cracking audibly as my lungs forced their way outwards, powerful bellows capable of moving the vast quantities of air I would need to power my new body. My build shifted to that of a greyhound, but layered with more muscle than a thoroughbred stallion. I lost my pectorals, my male nipples fading a way to perfect smoothness, but this didn't surprise me. I knew what to expect.
For a moment I simply laid there, a paragon of animal muscle and beauty covered in a sheath of all too human skin, capped with a human face contorted in expressions of ecstasy while students gawked in strangled silence. Then the changes reached my head. My lips parted in a throaty cry of mingled pleasure and pain, or would have save for my throat swelling shut, the vertebrate in my neck shattering, lengthening, reforming, gradually extending my spine inch by inch. At the same time a fresh sensation blossomed at the other end. Where two powerful hind-legs joined to a lower back rippling with muscle, a thick, broad tail now speared out fully half a body-length behind me. I waved it back and forth across the floor experimentally, swiping it solidly through a flimsy chair in satisfaction at its strength.
My jaw shattered next, distracting me from my lengthening spine and tail. My face swiftly reformed into something undeniably reptilian in appearance, perhaps the first clue to my fellow students of what I was becoming. My ears broadened into frills, membranes stretching across bone-like fingers, while what could only be described as a ventral fin sprouted from my forehead, extending along a row of spines growing out of my neck. My muzzle, for certainly it could no longer be called anything else, pressed outward, a long snout complementing wide-set eyes, with a bony ridge in between the brow and the tip. Very large teeth protruded from beneath thickening lips, fangs that any tiger would envy. When at last my voice rejoined my body, I simply hissed, tapering into a pleasantly thrumming purr.
I slowly struggled back to my feet, taking a moment to regain my balance. As my head rose above the desk, then above the hutch on top, finally topping out mere inches from the ceiling, a smirk grew upon my muzzle, gazing down at the students still watching in awe-struck horror. My massive form took up two aisles, desks having pushed to the side as I swelled in quadrapedal glory. Two final pieces to the transformation remained, and I wanted everyone to see them. A short, but very animal growl brought Mr. Allan's attention to my transformation his pencil and puzzle fully forgotten, falling from trembling hands to lay forgotten upon the floor.
As I grin maliciously at my former instructor, a rippling wave flows over my skin, like someone slipping on a slender garment, a sheath of solid gold scales sparkles into place, the pattern rich and flawless, unmarred. Powerful armor-like plates adorned my muscular back while a fine, even stronger ivory mesh, supple and soft but with the strength of mithril grew to gird me beneath. Such a brilliant array of reptilian scales to dazzle the eye, but no one in that room could bear to look away.
Suddenly I felt a blaze within my chest, signaling the swiftly approaching end of the transformation. Rising up on my hind paws, I pressed my muzzle firmly up through the roof, setting off the fire alarms as a fount of crimson rage licks from my lips to burn through the cheep asbestos, accompanied by a throaty roar announcing myself to the world. My forelimbs spread, shattering more of the ceiling, but that is a poor preview of what follows moments later.
The scales across my back part in audible rips, from shoulder to hip, sprouting a strong, splendidly muscled set of what could only be dragon's wings. Every last inch of each wing, from finger to joint, bespoke pure grace and power in flight, the perfect synthesis of avian and reptilian. The ceiling, desks, walls, nothing could stand against their full spread. At my new length of nearly half-again a dozen feet from nose to tail, those wings must have spanned at least twice that, in meters. Shining gold to rival my scales, they brilliantly reflected the light coming through the windows shattered by my roar.
I lowered myself back into the room. By now the students were panicking, but the walls and room had come down around their heads, they weren't going anywhere fast. A cruel and malicious smirk stole over my muzzle as I contemplated their fate at leisure, a certain stirring in my loins quickly growing as a yet unnoticed change made itself known.
Glancing downward, I saw that I no longer sported the same sexual equipment I remembered. A thick black shaft, flared but tapering quickly to a point, protruded from a single sizable slit in my groin. No testicles adorned my smooth reptilian loins, such equipment kept inside now. But what I lacked in that department, I more than made up for in girth and length. Almost as large as my foreleg, at least a meter from where the first of three thick ridges protruded just above my sheath, to the pre-glistening tip, that impressive ebon phallus demanded my attention, throbbing and turgid before me. Really, how had I missed that no-so-little detail during the transformation?
Dropping a forepaw to my groin I began to tug at that excellent example of draconic masculinity, slowly stroking a leathery paw up and down the hard-as-steel length. My maleness is very hot as well, and I shudder momentarily in sympathy for my other students. Or perhaps it is merely a shiver of anticipated pleasure.
Glancing around the mixed expressions of disbelief, disgust, and stark fear I see on the faces of my cornered prey, I settle my eyes on a particularly lousy specimen. Brad McGrayson, star linebacker and heartthrob of all the school's cheer leaders. He tried to rape my sister once; I intervened and nearly got put into the hospital. Thankfully she got away but without any witnesses besides the two of us, his rich father got him off easy. I knew that my sister's assault wasn't his only crime, attempted or otherwise. He would be an easy choice for my first prey.
"Yo, Brad, what up?" My voice came out a pleasantly low bass, resounding quite sexily, if I do say so myself. He knows who I am, they all know who I am, and he's not the only one I can scent fear on as my words somehow manage to echo through the broken classroom.
"You remember my sister? You tried to make her suck your cock didn't you?"
There's nothing he can say, he knows I know, I caught him at it after all. He only cowers, whimpering in fear, no-the acrid aroma is stronger than that-he's wet himself in stark terror. I lift a talon, crooking my finger to beckon him closer.
"Now it's your turn."
Of course he stays where he is, but it doesn't help him. Dragons have many tools at their disposal to deal with their prey. Lowering my muzzle and growling out a deep purr, I catch his gaze with my hypnotic eyes, fanning my ear fins to let my powerful pheromones seep into the air. The scent would send any female dragon in range into heat instantly; against humans it has the effect of making them more pliable to a dragons will. You have heard of dragon fear perhaps? It is no myth. Wrapped within my spell, Brad's body is not his own, he will do anything I ask now. They all will, for each of them have tasted my scent.
Interesting thing about dragon fear, it doesn't seem to affect the individual's mind, just their body. The well-built linebacker approaches slowly, gritting his teeth, the only voluntary motion he can manage, as he fights to run away, to lash out, to even stand still. My sonorous voice compels him forward.
As he nears I realize a problem, the all-star is simply too small to take me, in his mouth or anywhere else. With a wry chuckle of amusement, I realize that I'm still growing, probably close to the length of a school bus now from head to tail. My shaft stands a proud four feet from its vertical slot, with the girth of a telephone pole. It would be fun to see him try even so, but not satisfying. Reaching down to pick the helpless teenager up in one massive paw, I lift him to my muzzle, considering whether or not to just eat him instead.
A tickle at the back of my mind stirs a new idea however, and I decide to alter my plan for these students, starting with Brad. Arcane words filter through my mind, legacy of my now draconic heritage. The book had said that unlocking the form of a dragon might unlock the magical powers the species was known for, why not try them out?
Dropping Brad to the floor, I backed up, flaring my wings again and waving my paws as I mumbled a spell. I could feel the energy surging through me, fueling my growth again before I directed it toward my pitiful prey. Seizure of intense pain wrack the would-be rapists entire body, most un man-like screams of pure pain like music to my ears as Brad McGrayson finds himself undergoing a similar transformation to my own, only much faster, and without any of the pleasure.
The strong, firm body of the erstwhile jock trembles in prolonged agony as his skin is ripped from his muscles, exposing raw flesh in a banquet of mind-numbing pain while a layer of scales grows far too slowly over what he's just lost. His hands distend, forming into a pair of two-fingered paws that lack any utility, not that he'll be needing them. His legs crack, bending in three instead of two, becoming pale mockeries of my thick, powerful limbs. His face distends into a snake like muzzle, but the teeth poking from beneath his lips are blunt and rounded, his jaw-line two narrow to hold the musculature that would make his bite any threat. He won't be wearing wings, and the petite, poorly-muscled chest of his wouldn't support his weight in flight anyway.
Still, there's a certain graceful slenderness to Brad's new form, what he lacks in muscle he makes up for in a surprisingly beautiful curvature. Well, perhaps not so surprising when the transformation reaches his groin and the reason for his lithe, feminine appearance is made known to all. The former athlete's rather unimpressive endowments seem to be shrinking, his small testicles shriveling up and his puny five inches withering into nothing more than a clit-sized bump. His balls seem to melt into the skin, forming the petals of a blossoming feminine flower.
Its over in moments, the new replica of myself, save wingless, much smaller, and undeniably female, wallowing in a pool if its own urine. She responds to my scent quite differently now, the fear on her face, so easily readable, is mingled with a mad lust brought on by the thick, pheromone-laden aroma. Dragon lust, she will do anything for me.
Growling a soft thunder of pleasure, I move to cover my prey, my thick cock casually brushing aside a tail not much thicker, if at all. She is too fragile for me to set my weight on, but it hardly matters, she's barely a third of my length from tail to nose-tip and I have no problem straddling her slender form. The heated tip of my firebrand nestles against her ready vent, a momentary coo heard from beneath me as she shivers in anticipated satiation. She should know better. Feeling her sex folds against my cocktip I know she'll never take my shaft without injury.
I pause a moment to make sure that everyone in the room is watching as I deflower their former idol, their former superstar sports player. Now my plaything, sex toy, and bitch.
The first thrust draws a cry of agony from her muzzle, her tail flailing between my legs, her paws scrambling and her muzzle thrashing from side to side as she tries to pull away from me. The mating imperative of my scent is not strong enough to override the need for survival, and the pain blossoming at her nether regions has just informed her that she will not survive this. Not that I intended her to. Perhaps I'm being too cruel, or perhaps the memory of my sister's tears is too fresh.
I thrust again, sinking more of that thick cocktip into the space between her hips, already tearing her pussy, blood mingling with pre as I spread her further and further. Her hip pops out of joint, and she nearly collapses before my paw claps hard against her belly. Then I get a better idea. Rearing up on both hind legs, forelimbs wrapping around my new bitch, I forcefully jam myself fully inside her. The sickening crunch of bone reverberates through the room as her cries momentarily choke off, my thick shaft shattering her pelvis and bludgeoning its way into her lower belly, stealing the breath from her lungs. It takes her perhaps 10 seconds to regain it, time enough for three solid strokes, drawing back nearly to the tear in her scales and pounding all the way in again.
I know without question that I've already penetrated her cervix, and likely torn or at least bruised several internal organs to the point of fatal injury, but I continue to thrust, her alternately choked and keening cries a catharsis, each tear she sheds making me feel that much better at finally getting back at this bitch. Brad deserved it, and finally someone was giving it to her.
I do not know how long she lasted, I do know that I was still growing, and the bulge of my cock by the time I reached climax could be seen beneath her scales stretching clear to her chest. My orgasm hit me powerfully, only slightly tainted by the fact that this was only for revenge. Waves of rising pleasure coursed through me, prompting me to seize my prey by the throat, crushing her windpipe as I finished myself off inside her. She bloated heavily with my cum; the acid heat of dragon semen eating away at what my plunging shaft hadn't already pulped beneath her scales.
Big enough that I could probably hold a small car in my paw, it was a trivial matter to peel the husk of the football player off my dragoncock and toss her inside my muzzle. Her blood tasted sweet upon my tongue, though I did not favor the added spice of my seed. Taking my time, I chewed and fed upon her flesh. It didn't bother me that I was eating one of my own kind, in my mind, she was still he, Brad McGrayson, a punk football player who tried to rape helpless girls.
A final crunch and a single swallow signals the last of dear old Brad, and I take a moment to glance around the room again. It is too small for me now, my smallest talon larger than any of the puny humans cowering at my paws. From here I can see the whole school, and I remember all the students, all the teachers, and even all the people outside these walls, within this city that deserve what I gave Brad here today.
They stare back at me in fear. Few are innocent, those I will make like myself. As for the others, those whose faces hide countless injustices and ridicules, now cowering behind masks of fear and pleas for mercy, some I will turn into dragonesses to be my harem. For the injustices of these last four years, I will demand a lifetime of servitude. In particular, I imagine that delightful teacher of mine Mr. Allan will make a hot, tight bitch.
Others will not be so lucky. I can only lick my lips in anticipation. Indeed I will dine well today.