FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

This story contains non-consensual soft vore with some digestion. All content is © Zantesuken. Do not reproduce without explicit permission from the author.

Deneb and the Dragon

A short story by Zantesuken.

It was approaching sunset at the end of the second day. Deneb found himself looking across the overgrown remnants of a long-disused granite quarry, gnarled vines twisting up from the spent earth cast their mangled shadows upon the scarred rock. A refreshing zephyr lingered about the place, as if the gaping chasm had trapped the cooling summer air, sucking it from the surrounding woodlands. After many hours cutting through thickets and navigating dense copse in stifling heat, the weary tracker was glad greet this bastion of respite.

He was not here to rest however. Despite the dimming sun he wished to continue onwards until he had scouted out the majority of the area. He had been led here by subtle clues, hidden signs and incidental messages only an experienced ranger can resolve from the sprawl of nature's tapestry. Three days ago he had been asked to find the Lord's son, and two days ago he had set out into the wilderness that encroached upon the city walls. Now with some confidence he felt the young heir was somewhere in the maze of gouged stone and twisting tunnels that were carved into the earth before him.

There was at most an hour of sunlight left, and then a further hour of twilight, after which continued reconnaissance would prove difficult, even for such a gifted survivalist. This gave the stalwart huntsman impetus to progress, but on his travels he had also noticed the presence of a foreign visitor, one which urged great trepidation. The repressed silence of the forests, the timid nature of the trusting woodland folk, the faint trembling of the earth as if it were a great drum skin- all this and more pointed to the presence of a dragon.

Rarely were the terrible creatures in this region of the world, though it was not entirely unheard of. Deneb had encountered several before, though at a great distance, during his adventures across the globe. He despised them more than feared them, for he had witnessed the foul acts they commit. Large and powerful, their true strength lied not in their physicality but in their cunning and guile. Wise and bitter with age, they took pleasure in tormenting and torturing lesser beings in sadistic games, able to coerce and conspire. Blessed with the mental capacity greater than any man, they could outsmart and out-manoeuvre their foe and then tear them to shreds in moments.

He had made it a point to avoid contact with these creatures, and until this day he had managed to do so, though now he was duty bound to break this commitment. His mission was simply to gather information upon the whereabouts of the Lord's son, and ideally return him back to the city. This meant he would not have to engage any dragon, though it did mean he would have to enter its domain, and dragons are highly territorial.

Thus with great caution he worked his way down into the heart of the bleak quarry, rubble tumbling down the craggy ledges as his nimble feet danced upon the slopes. He reached the bottom with the sun no longer above the burning horizon; the treetops that encircled the quarry's rim were alight with pale-violet fire. There were great hollows that burrowed into the cold earth scattered around the base of the pit. It would not have taken a ranger to spot the draconic markings in the gravel at the entrance to one such cavern, a shallow channel slipping into the opening forged by the beast's reptilian girth.

He stood at the threshold, listening. He could gauge the size and rough shape of the interior just from this. A deep, soft breathing echoed through the granite tunnel. Deneb guessed it extended down about fifty metres before turning to the left where a large alcove would accommodate the dragon. It sounded asleep, though he knew this was not a safe assumption, for even if it were, it would not take much to wake it.

A very soft light evolved from the depths of the cave, only noticeable once Deneb was a few steps inside. Dragons glowed with the radiance of cooling coals, their inner-fire illuminating their scales. He did not know whether this inner fire was what supposedly let them breath clouds of flame, but he was schooled in lore enough to know this was the source of their age and wisdom. This glow, combined with the revolting, signature stench, confirmed the hunter's fears.

His footsteps were light and inaudible, balancing on loose rocks and fragments of bone. He approached with great caution, knowing any sudden movement could spell his doom. His goal was to find evidence of the son's presence. In the lair of a dragon this would amount to only one of two things; a skeleton or a rounded-stomach bulge.

He had witnesses a dragon feeding before. Despite their razor sharp teeth, they do not use them to kill or even chew their prey, instead preferring to feed on living flesh. Deneb suspected this was simply due to their inhumane nature. They enjoyed the terrified struggles of the doomed souls trapped in their monstrous bellies, facing the agonising onslaught of draconic digestion fully conscious. He winced at the thought of the young lad facing such a grizzly end, and prayed to his God that some mercy had been shown for him.

As he had predicted, the tunnel curved away to the left, expanding out into an enclave that was about as large as half a tennis court, the roof several times taller than the hunter's height. The grey rock glowed as if lit by smouldering embers, a gentle warmth emanating from the terrible creature snugly curled up in the centre. It's thick, muscled body filled the majority of the space, only a little room remained either side of its lowered neck or tail. This individual was of average size; a torso the size of a wagon-cart, a neck equally a long and a tail that stretched for metres. A wingspan the width of a house or two, and when hunched onto its hind legs, as tall as one also. Curled up its resting form it seemed deceptively small; wings folded, neck bent against its rasping chest and its mighty legs tucked neatly against its body.

It seemed comprised of three colours: an ivory white for its claws; a creamy, burnt yellow for its exposed underside and for the thick membrane of its wings; and a rich, russet gleam for the rest of its armour-like scales which seemed to dance in shade and hue about this central red. Its whole body was taut with strong muscles, each bone and joint formed to perfection creating a profile that was both elegant and fearsome. The chest was broad, the stomach broader, somewhat rounded and plump from hearty meals, though in no way out of keeping with the rest of the beast's hulking frame. So close to a dragon for the first time, Deneb saw the magnificence of it, and appreciated why some seek these beasts in wonderment.

He was however cautious. He knew that many had found themselves infatuated with these stunning creatures, only to end up as food shortly afterwards. While they could easily overpower any human, they would lure them with friendly gestures or promises of wealth and power, preferring to trick them into becoming willing prey, or at least render them defenceless. One of their greatest weapons was their potent, mind-altering musk, a foul mixture of chemicals and scents that could mesmerise those of weak resolve. He could smell it wafting from the dragon's slumbering body, a tangy, dark and lurid odour that revolted him. With it came the nauseating aroma of its breath, flowing out of its slightly parted muzzle, carrying the choking stench of rotting meat and cooking flesh.

He stepped inside, now trying to search for clues. Bones were scattered across the slightly squishy floor - dragons for all their pride and magnificence had no qualms with defecating inside their own lairs. Deneb felt his leather boots sink into the think layer of muck as if it were snow, grinding the odd bone against the rock floor beneath. Two days would not have been long enough for a young man to be fully passed through a dragon, and so Deneb did not have to set about the gruesome task of picking through skulls. He did however find a tunic buried under a pile of filth, bearing the insignia of the Lord's house.

He sifted through it carefully, being only a meter or so from the sleeping dragon. Numerous items were here, many of which could be attributed to the missing heir; an heirloom dagger, a small sack of gold coins, a necklace adorned with a small but dazzling jewel. Deneb was now certain the boy was dead. He looked up at the rounded paunch of the mighty creature. Had he been eaten he was certainly long gone- for while a dragon may easily outsize a human, their stomachs are only just able to stretch around a whole one. The absence of a hefty bulge meant that the young man was already being sucked through the beast's intestines, reduced to nothing more than a foul smelling slop.

Deneb said a prayer for the lost boy, feeling a hot anger rise inside his heart at the injustice. These creatures were a menace, an evil and a scourge upon human kind, and though he did not have the capacity to do so, he hoped we would one day avenge the son of his Lord by slaying the beast that consumed him.

He turned his sight from the wretched thing and set about collecting the late heir's belongings, placing them into his satchel. He had completed his mission, despite realising his darkest fears. He would return to the city and inform the Lord of this unhappy event, hopefully never to see a dragon again, lest it be to slay it. He went for the exit, sneaking out with the same agility he had entered with, relieved to be free of this grim task.

A shudder ran up his neck. His ears twitched. His pupils dilated. Before his legs could set into a sprint he felt the searing agony of teeth slicing through his calf, forcing him to the ground as the dragon pulled him back.

He slid face down along the slick, hard floor, screaming in pain as his leg was impaled. He felt the long, thick teeth withdraw from his flesh, and he instinctively turned onto his back, now looking up at his foe. He reached for his dagger in his belt, only for a heavy, scaled paw to come slamming down upon him crushing the arm, forcing their air from his lungs and snapping a rib. He screamed from the pain, his eyes watering as the head of the beast loomed before him.

It seemed to smile, a terrifying look of sadistic enjoyment formed upon its scaled visage. The head was broader than Deneb was wide, and longer from throat to snout than his torso. When it brought its snout down for a few victorious sniffs of its disarmed prey, the hunter realised he would have no trouble slipping between those hefty jaws.

To Deneb's horror, the paw which had pinned him began to slice through his leather vest, scratching along his tender, tissue soft flesh without cutting him open. Like a gourmet opening an oyster, the fiend delicately flayed the morsel of its clothing, even its undergarments. He felt his dignity being ripped from his body, now entirely at the mercy of the malicious dragon.

While he was being forcefully undressed, the colossal jaws parted around Deneb's head, allowing him to peer inside the grizzly maw. Illuminated from within, he was able to see with frightening accuracy every blotch and every capillary upon the writhing flesh. Everything dripped with thick, slimy saliva, a viscous goo that reeked of dragon breath and gleamed in the inner-light. It dolloped onto his petrified face whilst being continually blasted with searing breath. He wanted to vomit, half through fear and half through disgust.

The long, thin tongue slithered out, coated in slippery spit. It tenderly wrapped itself around Deneb's face, slathering his mouth but leaving his nostrils free to breath in the rank air. It wormed under his collar, progressing snakelike down his sweating chest, brushing the tatters of his vest aside as he was tasted. He tried to calm himself, his breathing was erratic. He could only stare up into the slick, pulsating jaws as the tongue lapped upon his naked flesh. There was no doubt about his fate, he only prayed for his end to come as quickly as possible.

The tongue lazily withdrew slipping back into the maw, the beast retreating down to the hunter's bare legs. He looked down to the dragon's head across his own body. His right arm was lifeless, his torso was shining with a coat of draconic saliva and his right leg was bleeding from several impalement wounds. Moments ago he was a proud and mighty ranger, now he was a broken man about to become another addition to the dragon's growling gut.

It began with the tongue curling around his bloody legs, guiding them into the hot, soggy maw. His toes came to rest before the entrance to the gullet, the beast's flaring nostrils halfway up this thighs. Wanting to waste no time, nor risk losing his meal (however unlikely at this point), the dragon swallowed down the helpless human's legs with a heart-rending gulp.

He was sucked into his nipples in one slick, revolting motion. His entire lower body was now alive with torturous sensation. Every inch of his skin was being rubbed, squeezed and kneaded. His shins, now in the tight throat, were locked together with his groin now laying in the centre of the maw, being pasted with gooey spit. It was so warm, so soft, and so slick. Had he not been about to lose his life he could have felt a pleasure in this sumptuous massage. The vile saliva was as tender and soothing as aromatic oils, basting his skin with soothing warmth, as well as a pungent stink.

The nimble tongue collected the hapless human's arms and pressed them to his sides, guiding them into the bustling maw. He looked on in bewilderment as his toned body was wrapped in the coiled tongue, laying between the razor sharp teeth that lined the maw. His knees had vanished behind the deep, scarlet flesh at the rear, now entombed in the suckling gullet. The bared fangs hovered over his chest, and despite the gruesomeness of it, hoped they would fall and tear him asunder so that he would not face the greater horror inside the burning belly.

He looked down along the line of the throat, clad in russet scales, the underside the lighter yellow. He would be sliding down it soon. He could just about see his feet poking through the flexible scales, locked inside the taut throat flesh. Further along was the chest and then the faintly rounded paunch, ready to accommodate his lumbering mass of living meat. Looking at that rotund, toned slab of muscle he felt a new twinge of terror - that of inevitability. He didn't want to die, certainly not like this. It was the sight of the dragon's otherwise benign gut that instilled the greatest fear.

It was only a second or two between the first gulp and the next; such was the state of Deneb's fevered mind as he was consumed whole. His lower body was effortlessly packed into the gullet by a pulverising contraction of muscles, a grotesque and revolting 'schluck' accompanying as his slickened body slipped through the lubricated folds of hot dragon flesh. Half of his arms were locked inside too, with just his chest and head remaining inside the sloppy maw. Despite waves of spit clogging his eyes, he managed to look out of the parted jaws one last time, seeing only the granite wall of the cave. They closed about him, leaving him bathed in the red inner light for a second or two before he was finally swallowed for good.

The dragon swallowed forcefully once or twice more to get his chunky meal moving down its tight yet powerful throat before curling itself back up, the meal still progressing into the centre of the body. It was a sizeable bulge, but it was soon slipping deeper and deeper with many small reflexive gulps. The human's features could be determined through the layer of shining scales, the arms, the legs, even the head, though the mask of terror upon it was not quite discernable.

This was the best bit for the predator, the moment the prey slides effortlessly into the churning sack of the stomach. For the entire minute long journey through the throat, the meal is kept rigid, supported by the tensile strength of the beast's musculature. But once they enter the hollow chamber, they wobble and jiggle, suspended on a bed of fat, tissue and organs. It is this signature sloshing of the gut as the meal is deposited under momentum that the dragon enjoyed the most.

Deneb did not disappoint. He was forced out of the throat and into the little bag in a series of short pulses. His feet were bathed in terrible, burning heat as they pushed into the elastic wall. His knees bent. His waist folded. He had filled the space and now began to stretch it with his chest pressed up to his knees, and finally his head. Once free of the constricting throat, the now balled up hunter weighed down the hefty organ. Then, like a ball on a spring, he rocked gently with the dragon's abdomen with a quiet sloshing noise until coming to a tentative rest.

Now fully ingested and tucked away, the hunter groaned in revulsion. He whimpered in the dim, ember light, frightened at what was to come, knowing that everything around him meant only one thing; that he was food.

The dragon, now full and sated, tucked its head into its quivering gut, bloated with the bulge of a still living man. It would listen contently to the peaceful gurgles and rumbles of the prey's digestion, feeling the feeble struggles inside as the stomach contracts and contorts.

Deneb was already in a great deal of discomfort. The stench was overpowering, no earthly smell could compare to the rotten mixture of foul oozes that bubbled and seethed around him. He would soon grow used to the smell however, for being left with no alternative he reluctantly drew in the thin, dank gasses, forced to feast upon the putrid aromas until they had destroyed his memory of fresh air.

For a few minutes the smell was the greatest pain, but soon his throat ached and his eyes stung. His leg wounds burned and his exposed anus began to itch. The acid was working upon him. He could see in the red light his compacted body turning a deeper shade from irritation. The walls seeped a frothy secretion which stank of bile. The chamber was awakening with scolding chemicals and enzymes. It began to gurgle, the sound of his own digestion rising with the stifling heat.

If the numbing pain of chemical onslaught was not enough, the physical tenderisation soon began. Like everything else about this process it was gentle at first: the odd flex of the muscles, a nudge or a squeeze, but soon it became more aggressive. The elastic nature of the sack was entirely under the dragon's control, and its body would instinctively compress it back to a smaller state, crushing whatever was inside.

It was excruciating. His knees were forced into his chest, his toes and fingers pushed mercilessly into their sockets, his spine and ribs bending under intense pressure. It came in waves, a few seconds of relaxation followed by a few of crushing compression. As it collapsed, the hot, burning fluids would rush into his mouth and nostrils, causing him to choke and splutter on the foul mixture. After a few pulses another of his ribs snapped. His hands and feet dislocated. All his joints were pulverised over the course of the next few minutes, until his body had become malleable enough to contract comfortably with the stomach, now a mass of immobile flesh.

And so, over the next hour, Deneb was mercilessly tortured inside the dozing dragon's gut. He would remain alive for that hour as his body was trashed and destroyed. Inside that smooth plating of scales was a factory of brutal efficiency, a once human form being reduced to nutrients, the majestic and peaceful exterior hiding the ghastly goings on.

For Deneb, the greatest pain was not the revolting smells, the burning acids or the crushing constrictions, it was the shame. Every moment of his painful death he could only think about the smooth, round bulge he had been reduced to. He had been a great man, proud and respected; now he was an anonymous meal for a savage beast. Nothing more than a quick snack to please a hungry dragon, that was the summation of his entire life. The pathetic struggles he could muster only served to remind him of his proximity to the freedom beyond the scales. Only an inch or two lay between his former, glorious life and this, a pitiful death inside the foulest place imaginable.

He had an hour to think these thoughts, all the while his skin was flaying and his bones grinding to the sounds of innocent rumbles. The dragon was fed, and he had fed it, packed away forever inside the mighty creature. In his final moments, he took no comfort in thinking he would become part of its massive strength and majesty. Instead, he knew that in a day's time his body would be packing the dragon's rear, ready to slide out to freedom once again, this time as nothing more than a pile of crap and bones upon the cold, granite floor.

Making sure the hunter had been fully ingested, the young heir stood upon from behind the dragon, clambering over the thick tail to an annoyed grunt. He crawled up to the now bloated stomach, still alive and wriggling with frenzied motion. The dragon opened its eyes and looked at the boy, who was entranced by the ghoulish exploits inside the churning gut.

The boy, noticing the dragon was watching him, turned and smiled meekly, rubbing his face along the side of the dragon's snout. The tongue slithered out and coiled about the boy's face almost lovingly, eliciting a moan from the youth. He withdrew, and sat back against the soft, firm belly scales, feeling the balled up body of the hunter inside under a layer of firm muscle.

The dragon placed his head onto the boy's lap, pushing him into the sloshing stomach a little. The two then fell asleep to the sound of Deneb digesting away- the heir knowing that one day, he too would share a similar fate.