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Kalaz, the Alchemist of Clan Arkan, inspected the assembled troop of kobolds. The supplies were all in order, the potions brewed, reagents prepared, weapons readied, and everything was in place for the advance. It was already dusk; they would move within the hour, as soon as night fell.

The kobold's de jure commander and de facto partner, Chieftain Splinter-Tail, sighed heavily and continued to sharpen his war-dagger. The polished bone hilt gleamed faintly in the bloody-orange moonlight, as did the Chieftain's teeth. He had stayed silent for most of the short trek into human lands, obsessively cleaning and sharpening his ceremonial weapon.

Turning to address the crossbowmen and pikemen, he reminded them, "Aim for the legs, men! Remember, the villagers must be taken alive; we can heal injuries later. Incapacitate, break any resistance - do not kill them."

The assembled kobolds saluted, and he smiled. It was almost time to move out.

"I do not like this, Kalaz." Splinter-Tail said, his voice a dry, sullen rasp. "What you and the Master have planned... it is..."

The elder kobold let his voice fade into a whisper, and then nothingness.

Kalaz suppressed a sigh; the more elderly and conservative of the Clan did not appreciate that the world was advancing, and that the Clan would be left behind without a willingness to seize opportunities, and attempt new ventures.

"It is the future, Splinter-Tail. Have you no ambition? If we succeed here, we will make history, and set ourselves as a genuine power in the region, not a forgotten warren", he chastened.

"No ambition?" Splinter-Tail nearly choked, shaking his head slowly from side to side such that the alchemist could see the scars lining his broad snout. The Chieftain was stocky and muscled for a kobold, even in his advanced age. "You know dragon-blood runs through my veins as well as yours, Kalaz. But I would see these barbarians burned for what they have done to our ancestral lands! I would slit the necks of their females and crack the marrow from their children's bones! I would avenge our forefathers and..."

Splinter-Tail gave a great, deep sigh, and then gazed past Kalaz to the assembled forces of Clan Arkan, clad as they were in gleaming, alloyed armor, armed as they were with fantastical arcanotech designed and manufactured by the brilliant alchemist and his disciples. The forces surrounded a trio of wagons, mostly carrying supplies, but one carried a strange device of polished metal, a conical spire surrounded by gleaming rings of metal, joined to the central spire and each other with narrow strips of gold-coloured alloys, all inlaid with small gemstones, carefully arranged between patterns of runic symbols in blue-tinted paint. The soldiers seemed awed by its presence, but Splinter-Tail held no such reverence.

He shook his head. "No, I will not be drawn on this again, and this is no time nor placed for argument. I said my peace at the concord. The fate of Arkan is with you, old friend... and your new toys."

Kalaz smiled back politely, stung more than he'd dare admit by his friend's refusal to see his vision. "Trust me. My way is better; why risk our troops on combat when we can... theoretically... build our own army this way? It is far more convenient, far more..."

"...experimental?" asked Splinter-Tail, a little sardonically.

"...Well, yes. But that is why it is important to test the process in a controlled environment. Salford is ideally placed."

At that, the Chieftain smiled a broad, snaggle-toothed grin. "Yes. With the Summer ice melting, the crossing is impassable. They are trapped between the Blackshale range like a baby chick in our claws..." Splinter-Tail said, stepping forward and pulling his dagger into his hand. The kobold walked in front of Kalaz, turning so quickly that his cape and tail struck the trunk of a thin tree before them. "Yes. Yes; you are right. If our Master demands that we try your... methods... then this is the perfect place. Fewer than five hundred... no notable defenses. Our scouts have the entire village marked down to the last little hovel."

Kalaz grinned back; he himself had memorised the maps and the list of locals who might offer serious resistance, and inside his head he'd already decided on the best roles for each of them, once the attack was complete. "Yes... the perfect test. I think this will be a very... interesting experiment indeed. The culmination of years of work... yes."

He felt his slit grow slightly snugger as he thought ahead to the night's work; the potential for this experiment had been over a decade in the making, and the thought of seeing it succeed gloriously was very appealing, in more ways than one. There was something poetic about turning one's enemies into allies.

"Ahem. Perhaps we should start the march soon? The sun is low in the sky..." he said, trying to focus his mind. Self-satisfaction could come later, after the work was complete.

"Yes; I think so. My blades are ready in case anything goes wrong, though. We're going to sneak in through the-"

Suddenly, the kobold's conversation was interrupted by a loud, resonate crashing sound, followed by a sharp bit of profanity in Common.

"What was that?" whispered Splinter-Tail, dropping low into the tall grass around them and pressing his dagger into the grass to hide the metal's gleam. Behind him, Kalaz caught the flicker of several tails and quivers as the Chieftain's elite assassins moved into defensive positions around their leader.

"I believe he said... ah... he insulted the heritage of somebody's mother in a most vile way, but I'm going to assume he was cursing after falling... a human, I think, to judge by the, ah, manner of his speech."

Splinter-Tail smiled. "Well Kalaz... I hope you are ready. If not..."

The kobold drew the first half-inch of his blade out of the earth and grass it was buried in.

Kalaz drew a small vial from his belt-pouch, and checked the label; formula 21, yes, that would be ideal. He felt a sudden sinking feeling... what if it didn't work, what if there was a whole patrol out there, the village militia changing its routes at the last minute...

He suppressed the sense of unease. That was the purpose of testing, after all, and there was nothing quite like an edge of danger to add... spice... to the event. It was probably just a lone farmer who'd got lost.

He forced a smile. "Ready as I'll ever be, old friend..." he said, gesturing to a small group of crossbowmen and a pikeman to follow the pair as they skittered rapidly into the nearby undergrowth.

**** ****

"Thrice-damned tree stumps! Those sons-of-whores loggers should mark where they are cutting!" Dietmar said, stumbling to his feet and dusting off his armor. The heavy leather was reinforced with metal studs and chains, and had taken most of the force from his fall, though he'd bloodied his palms when he caught himself on the gravel and dirt. Why had he even volunteered for the militia in the first place? He was no soldier. Then again, there was no danger, either, so it had seemed like a good way to earn some easy pay and kudos around Salford... though getting lost like this? Not so much!

Sighing, Dietmar began to search around for his fallen sword. He couldn't see it anywhere around, but the ground underneath him was covered in felled lumber that had been left out in the field. The logs and sticks looked too small to burn as logs and too large to be good kindling, but looked almost perfectly like the sword of sticks a child might seize to play with as a sword.

"Gods-dammit." Dietmar swore again, falling onto his hands and knees to search for his blade. If he lost his brand new sword in the fields he'd never hear the end of it from Captain Benar.

The wood crunched under his knees, and a few sharp splinters dug into his flesh, which did little to improve his mood. It did, however, slow his movements enough that he suddenly realized that the sounds of his own crashing around at the edge of the forest was not the only noise he could hear! There was a disturbance in the undergrowth all around him, at first he'd thought it was the breeze, but the night air was warm and still.

Gods above, what was it? Wolves? Bears? The rest of the patrol come to laugh at his clumsiness? None of those were good options if he'd lost his sword!

He peered around him in the gloomy dusk, reaching out in the hope of finding his sword, but seizing only on a reasonably sturdy branch. It would have to do, he thought, as he started to stand, a harder task than usual on the uneven surface of smooth logs, with their tendency to roll and slide underfoot!

"Are you looking for this?" someone said, in a high-pitched and faintly sibilant voice. Dietmar froze for a second; the words sang to him like a serpent, right over his shoulder.

Looking up, Dietmar saw a small reptilian thing in front of him, clad in skin- scale?- tight black armor. Belts of vials were woven across the short reptile's armor, and numerous holsters and straps held an assortment of sinister-looking weapons and contraptions. But the only thing in the tiny lizard-dragon's hands right then was a single vial and his lost sword.

"Hey! What... who are you?" Dietmar shouted, holding his stick between his hands defensively. "And give me back my sword!" he said, pausing a moment before thinking to add, "Please!"

"Me?" Said the creature, in slightly accented Common. "I am a kobold, though I would prefer you use my name - Kalaz." Its muzzle twisted slightly in what Dietmar assumed to be a grin. "And I suppose I should ask you who you are, as well?"

It made a slight hand gesture at its side, and there was a rustle in the bushes in response. Were there more of these things out there?

Dietmar considered a moment; but, the creature was armed, and he wasn't - even though his small sword was rather outsized even for a zweihander in the small creature's grasp, he didn't fancy his chances if he just tried to snatch it away. Besides, it wasn't necessarily hostile...

Where the hells was the rest of the patrol? The first time something strange happened, ever, and they were nowhere to be seen!

"Er... well, my name's Dietmar, from Salford... now, please, I really need that sword back... I promise I won't hurt you!" he said, hastily, before wondering if that was a promise he could keep. What if they *were* hostile?

Kalaz had to put a hand over his muzzle to keep from laughing, but dry chortles rang through his slender fingers nonetheless. The kobold kissed the vial he held there and drew his hand back with a flourish, walking forward while swinging Dietmar's sword into the ground. The blade struck into one of the larger of the fallen logs, almost splintering it in two, before lodging firmly in the wood., and slipping from Kalaz' grip. "And I promise I will not hurt you. If you surrender now, that is..." the kobold said, with a dire smile.

"Sweet Pelor..." Dietmar whispered, sitting up on his knees and backing away from the advancing kobold, sensing the faint air of menace around the creature. "What do you mean, surrender!? What are you doing!?"

"Is this really what passes for militia in these parts?" a deeper hissing voice shouted, outside of his sight. Laughter rose up from the tall grass and thickets behind Kalaz, and Dietmar heard the rustle of things moving towards him...

Kalaz chuckled, and turned, switching languages to a guttural, sibilant tongue that Dietmar didn't follow. This time, several voices laughed in return, and he realized he was surrounded.

Kalaz turned back to him, and held out his hand with the small vial, labeled '21'. "If you surrender, drink this", he said, simply.

"What? No! I'm not going to drink that; that could be poison or something? What is it?" Dietmar protested, backing further away until he found the ridge behind him and fell onto a log resting there.

Kalaz looked genuinely surprised, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him. "Poison? Dear me, no. If I wanted you dead, I could have had it very much more easily than this! No, this is a magical potion that... imbues the imbiber with power, possibly. I daren't test it on *my* friends, though, so, you get the lucky opportunity. Once in a lifetime chance, I shan't ask again..."

After a confused pause, Dietmar said. "What? That sounds... pretty dangerous! And you are probably lying, anyway! How about I just, uh, lay down my weapons and surrender like normal, or something?" Dietmar asked, with a cringe.

Kalaz looked offended. "I don't lie. If you need a demonstration..." He switched languages to the hissing tongue again, and without warning, a crossbow bolt suddenly appeared as if by magic, sticking out of a chunk of wood inches from Dietmar's crotch where he was seated, with the loud crack of split wood. "You see, I could have killed you at any time... and still might, after a little dismemberment in the hope you see the light.... now I'll ask again, will you drink this voluntarily, or do we do this the hard way? Hells, to sweeten the deal, we'll even let you go, if you wish, afterwards. Promise."

Dietmar swallowed hard, eyes widening slightly, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin. He'd never felt really threatened before; this was a novel and none-too-pleasant experience for him. He slowly lifted himself away from the log so that the skirt of leather armor between his legs wouldn't catch on the crossbow bolt now jutting from the tree trunk. "O-okay..." he said, walking towards the kobold in a slow shuffle. Kalaz tossed it towards him. Dietmar caught it after it bounced off his chestplate.

"Drink it quickly, Dietmar." Kalaz commanded, smiling and folding his arms together. "We haven't all night, you know."

Dietmar unstoppered the vial, and sniffed cautiously at the contents, only to find them odourless. He hesitated; this really, really didn't seem like a good idea.

On the other hand, getting shot with a crossbow didn't sound like a good idea either, and he could hear the unmistakable sound of a string being dawn again - and no doubt there were more of them around. He'd heard crossbowmen rarely worked alone.

Suppressing his fears momentarily, he threw his head back and downed the vial's contents. It was very bitter, with a strangely floral aftertaste, but there was a lot less liquid than he expected; barely three drops. The glass of the vial was very thick, he realized.

His tongue burned a little, a faint stinging sensation like mustard sliding down his throat a few seconds after the aftertaste faded.

The potion slid down into his belly like hot quicksilver, and Dietmar suddenly felt his temperature rise. His blood kept warming until he felt almost unbearably hot; hot and itchy and...

"Gr-kgghsh!" Dietmar sputtered, convulsing so suddenly and powerfully he fell to the ground.

"Thank you!" Kalaz said, grinning and offering Dietmar a three-clawed salute as he walked towards him. Dietmar felt more powerful convulsions rock his body from fingers to toes as the kobold approached, and couldn't even muster the self-control to rise to his feet when Kalaz began to pat his head heavily.

Dietmar's stomach started to burn hotter, and quite painfully. Gods above, how could he be so foolish? This felt awful! The damn creatures really had killed him, with some horrible poison!

"Ahhhrrrgghhh!" Dietmar shouted. A strange anger, mixed with a dreadful sense of urgency and the need to survive, rose in him, and he mustered reserves of energy he hadn't even known he had. His muscles burned, suddenly filled with unearthly strength. Dietmar kicked out, at nothing in particular, sending wood flying into the bushes, and felt momentary satisfaction as he heard a few surprised hisses from the undergrowth.

He tried to take a swing at Kalaz, too, but seemed to have lost his coordination, instead punching the wood in front of him. Oddly, it didn't hurt much; in fact, it felt satisfying, if anything. He felt... stronger.

A tuft of hair fell from his head as Kalaz' claws brushed it away, and he suddenly panicked. Gods! He needed the healer, he needed help... he needed to warn the rest of the village! He needed to get away, and danger be damned, he might well die if he stayed, and crossbow wounds could be healed!

Dietmar gave another kick, and managed, somehow, to leap to his feet, forcing Kalaz to jump back a foot or so. His tailored armour felt like it had shrunk, or deformed, it wasn't sitting right on his body any more... but it was still protecting him, and he felt oddly secure as the adrenaline flowed through him.

Taking off towards the village as fast as his legs could carry him, Dietmar sprinted forward fueled by the roiling heat of the alchemical brew in his belly and the terrifying fear he'd soon feel a crossbow bolt buried in his back. There was a twang behind him, and a faint whistle as a lone missile flew over his head, followed by a shout in that strange guttural language. No more shots rang out, and he ran around the bend in the ridge and found the well-worn main path underneath his feet again. He ran down it towards Salford proper, faster than he could ever remember running before.

"Sir... why are we holding fire?" asked the crossbowmen squad leader. He'd obeyed Kalaz' barked order, as he was trained to, but was still confused as to its meaning.

"He's a valuable test subject... and the potion was working perfectly, as you saw", Kalaz said, wringing the human's long brown strands of hair from his fingers. "In a few minutes he'll be a very valuable mount for our future mounted combat division, and should be a lot more responsive and... obedient, too. He'll not get to the village before he changes completely, have no fear. The plan remains unchanged, we march immediately."

The assembled kobolds looked around at each other a moment, as Splinter-Tail sheathed his dagger for the first time in hours, shaking his head with an amused grin. "Very well. You know, I could have sworn you said you wouldn't ask him to surrender twice, just before you asked him a second time."

Kalaz grinned mischievously. "Oops. Guess I do lie sometimes after all... on which note, I promised we'd let him go. So, get some of the potion-throwers together, and let's go hunt him before he gets too far."

**** ****

As he ran on, Dietmar continued to feel his armor creak and stretch around him in strange and unpleasant ways, and his long hair continued to fall from his head quickly as the air rushed past him. He was running faster than he knew he could... survival instinct, he supposed, but perhaps the potion really *was* giving him some new strength as well. He felt like he was falling forward, and yet somehow always managed to catch himself before he fell. It helped that the road ahead was a slight rise...

As he crested the hill, Dietmar suddenly found himself face to face with Captain Benar and Daymond, the other militia recruit. The two were each drinking from a silvered flask, which Captain Benar struggled to hide inside the pouch on his belt.

"Halt! Who goes there!" the Captain shouted, struggling to draw his sword before seeing who he was addressing. "Dietmar? Where have you been!?" He began, before doing a double-take. "Gods, man, what happened to your head?" he asked, noticing that the new recruit was almost completely bald. Something seemed off about his stance, too, but it was hard to tell in the twilit forest gloom. "And where's your weapon, recruit?!" he barked, too, irritation rising, as he saw that the man's scabbard was empty, as where his hands.

"We're under attack! We're under attack!" Dietmar cried out, suddenly feeling the top of his head. It was almost completely bald now, and worse yet he felt his eyelashes and eyebrows falling to the same fate. "Kobolds! Lots of kobolds!"

Captain Benar gave him a quizzical look. He was still holding his sword out at the young recruit. "What? Where? And what in the name of the gods has happened to you!?"

"They made me drink something! They said it was some kind of potion... grhn... argh." Dietmar groaned, falling back down to his knees. He heard the cords of armor around his sides grow ominously taut as his armor squeezed around him, and strange strength surged through his arms and legs.

"Sir! There's something wrong with him!" Daymond said.

"I can bloody well see that, recruit!" Captain Benar shouted at the young recruit. "Draw your weapon! Secure the road while I see to Dietmar!"

Dietmar was starting to find it hard to breathe, his armour constricting his rib cage more and more. He clutched at the buckles of the leather, gasping incoherently to try and alert his comrades to his plight. To his surprise, his fingers tore the buckle free entirely on the left side, and the armour flopped open, letting him suck in a deep breath.

He smelled kobolds.

That struck him as odd; he'd never been able to before - not because they weren't there, but because his nose simply wasn't so sensitive. But now, some instinct told him, he could scent kobolds... three individuals, upwind, about twenty feet. No, four... no... more, approaching.

"Dietmar, what's happening to you?!" Captain Benar said, the grizzled old war veteran suddenly out of his depth. Combat, he could do; magic, he could not, nor did he know of anyone who could - but he knew it when he saw it! The thick leather belt that held the armour taut was sturdy, designed to hold up through the thickest of swordfights; yet his none-too-special recruit had just torn it free with an ease that spoke of near-berserker strength!

His eyes.. his eyes were the wrong colour. Large, yellowish, glittering in the twilight like a cat's. Was he possessed?

"I... don't know... what..." Dietmar wheezed, drawing breath into lungs deeper than he ever had before, his rib cage seeming to stretch out further than before. "There's... there's... kobolds, not... not too..." he gasped, the once-familiar rhythm of his breathing no longer so familiar, no longer so easy to fit with speech. But he'd been followed here, he could smell the kobolds nearby, a faint scent of fear, trepidation, anger... and arousal? How was he telling all this, what *was* happening to him?

Dietmar fumbled to slide his armor off his back, and then looked down at his hands. They were burning hot, and growing larger right before his eyes. He could see the skin stretch and harden as his fingers grew thicker and longer, save the last two on each hand, which were shrinking and growing numb. His toes felt much the same way, and were painfully constrained by the steel-toed boots he was wearing...

"S...sir.... ko... boldsss... h...h...heeeere... at-tack..." Dietmar managed to wheeze out. He didn't feel out of breath any more, but talking was feeling more and more difficult. He bit his lip in trepidation, and gave a slight gasp as sharper teeth cut into the soft flesh easily. Dietmar felt his eyes water as blood trickled from his mouth, though the pain was overshadowed by the hot numbness flooding his body. He fumbled to pry the boots off his cramped feet as he rolled against the grass, certain of his own fate but praying the rest of the militia wouldn't share it.

A kobold stepped from the bush, a heavy backpack connected to a crossbow-like device in its claws by a thin length of stitched leather tubing, and Captain Benar gasped, standing and drawing his sword - but a moment too late, as a stream of black liquid blasted from the thin nozzle, soaking Benar and Daymond both.

"Daymond, to arms!" Captain Benar shouted, before noticing that Daymond had turned pale, was shaking slightly, and holding his chest as if in pain. A faint splash of fluid was visible, running down the sleeve of his leather jacket, and had clearly soaked into the fibres between the stiches there. He looked in no condition for a fight.

"C..captain... I feel... sick..." he said, before toppling to the ground, moving weakly.

Benar was only able to blink a few more times before he felt the cold liquid seeping into his bones, draining the strength from him like he was naked and entombed in ice. His sword dropped from his numbing fingers, and he felt his knees shiver ominously as it became a struggle to stand upright. He dropped to all fours, barely able to support his own weight.

"Checkpoint one: Militia patrol subdued." Kalaz said, plucking a mechanical timepiece from his pocket and checking it with a smile. "A little earlier than scheduled."

"Aaaah!" Dietmar cried out, as Benar and Daymond collapsed to the ground. He felt the back of his breeches start to stretch behind him as a heavy nub of bone and muscles began to grow from his backside, pulling his hunched spine straight backwards. Ignoring the feeling, he continued to tear the heavy boots from his feet, finally freeing them with a hiss of relief that burbled up from deep inside his belly.

The kobold with the potion-throwing device pointed it up into the air, and barked something to the bushes beside him - and Dietmar saw the alchemist, Kalaz, step from the bushes, along with another kobold that he didn't recognise, who was nervously fingering a wicked-looking dagger in his hand.

"Excellent... I guess the paralytic agent works perfectly, not that I had any doubt..."Kalaz said, sounding smug. "I wasn't doubting it, though, it's the other potions whose effects are a little less well-established. But, I think we have some good test subjects now... good for a start, anyway. Hmm, best test out formula 21-b, I think, the contact variant. It would be a pain to have to force everyone in the damned village to drink the potions, after all..."

Dietmar was still grunting and groaning ominously, too consumed by what was happening to him to notice anyone else. The smell of kobold was now thick in the air, even thicker than the man-scents that had been layered along the road for years and years. Dietmar snorted a few times as he tried to shake the scents from his head and focus on what was happening to him, but he was starting to feel... confused. Something about the kobold-scent was comforting, while the man-scent raised his hackles slightly...

Kalaz ignored him entirely, though the other pair watched him with a nervous air to them. The alchemist strode over to Daymond first, and poured a few drops from a vial onto Daymond's head. "And you..." he said, turning to the prone Benar, "...can have 21-b as well, if you'll forgive not having special treatment as a result of your rank... Captain. 21-b is the most essential, I think; if the rest work, it'll be a good bonus, though..." He said, as he emptied a second vial onto Benar's exposed neck.

The knife-kobold barked something in the strange language of the kobolds, and Kalaz turned. "I'm speaking Common out of... courtesy to our... guests, since you ask. It seems only fair they know a little about what's happening to them... though they'll have that luxury where the civilians won't, I suspect. If this disturbs you, why not go and get the troops ready to march? We're in danger of getting overdue, after all, and we don't know exactly when the patrol is expected back."

The knife-kobold spoke to the backpack-kobold, apparently translating, then turned to Kalaz. "I think it unwise to simply leave these three here alone. Don't you wish to test the..."

"Of course I do", Kalaz, said, interrupting, looking down at Daymond and Benar, whose exposed, potion-touched skin was starting to grow discoloured. He smiled, a little wickedly. "In fact... I'll stay here alone, Splinter-Tail. You go back to the others."

Splinter-Tail did a double-take. "Alone? That's not safe, Kalaz, you said the paralysis would only last two or three minutes at most. I at least should stay with..."

"No. You can ready the army, and you'll need all the forces assembled..." Kalaz said, gesturing to the potion-thrower. "I will supervise here. I'm not helpless, as well you know. I want to... take care of a few things... oh, leave the tack here, and I'll bring you a present when they're all done", he said, and Dietmar noticed the faint scent of kobold-arousal intensifying. But... why?

"Fine. If I do not see you at the rendezvous point, I will send my blades for you." The Chieftain grunted, and barked orders to the shadows around him as he walked away. The kobold's voice was joined by a chorus of suppressed but excited yips that began to fade quickly as the creatures slunk off into the darkness.

"Now... where were we before you so rudely ran off..?" Kalaz said, chuckling as he walked towards Dietmar. "My! You are certainly coming along nicely!" he said, licking his lips slightly.

"Youuuu... basss-terd..." Dietmar hissed. His lips were too stiff to work properly, and his tongue hung like a piece of meat in his mouth. His whole body felt hot and sore now, being stretched out in every direction. He was balancing on his hands and feet as his tailbone pushed out behind him, giving soft, gagged yowls as he continued to change and grow. His skin was thick and sickly sallow, and rapidly taking on shades of green and brown. Underneath him, he could feel his toes stretching out into thick clubs, the bones inside cracking like a wet fire as they grew. He threw his gaze around wildly, not really seeing anything save the horrified expressions on Benar and Daymond's faces.

And yet... something else was rising in Dietmar's heart. The muscles in his legs felt as thick and taut as tree trunks, and the feeling of his skin turning into thick, leathery plates- tighter and more supple than his armor had ever been- was somehow assuring. He felt heavy thrums of power deep in the bones of his toes and fingers as knife-point sharp claws began to slide through his dead, brittle fingernails and toenails...

"Come now... we're all alone, and for all your confusion, you've not attacked me, you've not dared, I bet the thought didn't even cross your mind. You know why? I've... re-purposed you." He licked his lips again, stepping forward, the smell of aroused-male-kobold growing. It wasn't an entirely-unpleasant scent.

Dietmar felt his nose sink into his face as he sniffed in the heavy, hanging musk, turning towards Kalaz. "Whhhhhhrrrrr-Whhhhhy?" he said, in a half-growl, wondering why he didn't feel like he wanted to hurt his tormentor.

"Ah, well, I need a war-mount... and a companion, potentially. You're the first lucky test subject, so I guess you get that honour..." he said, chuckling. "You've been... well, magically trained a little already. I haven't told the others yet, but the little formula I used on you has a few... extra additions... like making the scent of kobold quite... appealing... attractive... you feel it yet?" he asked, as impassively as if discussing the weather, distracted only by whatever fantasies were running through his head. "I do so love the idea of dominating a big, powerful reptile... and a male one, though that's the only little foible my compatriots know about for the moment."

Dietmar blinked slowly, trying to work through the kobold's words as he heard Captain Benar and Daymond start to give strained groans behind them. His mouth hurt now, as did his face; it felt like something or someone was pulling on it and wouldn't stop. Behind him, his breeches reached their breaking point and yielded to his growing tail, tearing apart and letting the thick limb fall to the grass behind him. Dietmar cried out in surprise, suddenly stumbling into a half-turn to see the new limb he'd grown. "Aaaawwp! Ssss- taaawp!" he managed to say, before his strained voice broke into a high-pitched chirp. "Awwwk! Awwrk!"

"You're... turning us... to beasts?" Captain Benar choked out, followed by a hollow laugh. Both he and Daymond looked several sizes too large for their own armor now. "What.. vile sorcery.. is this?"

"Beasts? Oh, no... ah, well, physically, yes. mentally, probably not... that's what the test is for, though. But I believe you'll retain at least the majority of your intellect... the potion just helps you to... ah, align your goals with mine... er, ours", Kalaz said, half-turning. "Ah, and most of my creations aren't disposed to respond so strongly to, aheh, needy kobolds... though you will be more deposed to respond 'positively' to raptor-arousal instead, even other males. After all, most male apex predators are very competitive for mating opportunities, but it's fairly essential that you find ways to, aheh, work together... it's an experiment of sorts, I confess, but I have high hopes. We'll all test it out soon, oh yes..."

"You... speak in perverse riddles! We'll... never serve you, fiend!" the Captain said, letting out a pained grunt as his armor stretched around him. He was starting to writhe more, the paralysis starting to wear off, his slightly greying hair falling from his head where the few drops of formula 21-b had touched him.

"Captain... what... do we do..." Daymond whined, face buried in the dirt road beneath them. The back of the recruit's leather pants were beginning to stretch outwards as the telltale bulge of a growing tail pushed out against it. The smaller, younger male was changing much more quickly than his commander, and already had a set of sharp claws growing out from oversized hands.

"Arrghrrroooo!" Dietmar howled, suddenly rising onto his feet and giving a high-pitched cry. Dietmar felt like lightning was surging through his veins, filling him with feral strength. He flexed his feet suddenly, and felt his powerful toes dig deep into the dirt underfoot. He shook himself, sending the torn remains of his clothes fluttering to the ground around him, and then whipped his tail from side to side.

Kalaz nodded approvingly. "Hmm, you really are coming on nicely.... soon it'll be time to saddle you up, I think... what do you think of that?" he said, licking his lips, and loosening the ties on his black breastplate, letting it hang loosely before lowering it to the floor gently, revealing a surprisingly plain tunic beneath. "Don't resist... once you're aroused, don't forget, your friends can start having a good time, too... it'll help them overcome their... reluctance..."

Turning his head back towards Kalaz, Dietmar gave a low, crooning cry and began to walk towards him, drawn towards the tangy smell of male-kobold. Dietmar's head felt fuzzy and his memories distant; the only thing that seemed to matter to him now were the heavy, rich scents of kobold and summer on his snout and the sibilant kiss of the kobold's commands in his ears. His nakedness, his changes all seemed to be distant and unimportant concerns, things that could never bother a male as strong and powerful as he... they confused him, befuddled his mind. He wasn't sure what he was feeling.

Walking forward with his still-growing tail swaying behind him, Dietmar approached Kalaz and pushed his blunt muzzle into the diminutive male's snout, nuzzling it powerfully before giving the tangy-smelling kobold a long lick across the face. The taste of the reptile's lip-scales was almost sweet, a hint of wine or another potent drink still faintly present.

"Awrk?" Dietmar chirped as he met the kobold's eyes. He wanted another taste of the sweet scales; many more tastes, even. But not until he'd been given permission, of course... wait, permission? Why would he need... permission... from his master... he shook his head, trying to clear the rogue thoughts out, but they intensified instead.

Kalaz brought a hand up to rub Dietmar's head, chuckling. "Gooood raptor..." he said, "...good boy... that's it..." he encouraged, before he stepped forward, under Dietmar's growing muzzle and beneath his elongating torso, and rubbed at one of the powerful thighs, brushing away a lingering shred of the underwear that hung there, before flicking a claw gently against the half-human maleness that still hung beneath the boy's mostly-saurian body. Dietmar felt a sudden surge of arousal start to run through him, the brief touch of the kobold more erotic than the brief fumbles he'd had with a few of the village girls... that thought too confused him, why wasn't he more disturbed that his most intimate areas were being touched by a male?

A sexy, small, powerful, virile male...

He felt his shaft start to harden as his scrotum started to pull upward, into his body. At the same time, Dietmar felt his body give another great shudder as his tail, claws and talons began to surge with growth. Yes, yes; he knew now. It was the sexy, small, powerful male who had done this to him, turned him into the sleek, strong predator he knew he was. The kobold was to be trusted, guarded, protected, served...

Slowly, both Captain Benar and Daymond began to rise to their feet, still mostly humanoid, but twitching and groaning as they began to outgrow their armor. Daymond's tail lashed behind him to steady his new gait, while Captain Benar stumbled and fell back down on the ungainly, oversized talons that had torn through his boots. Both men were growing thick coats of grey scales, and were sniffing at the air in confusion as the first stirrings of reptilian lust slowly rose in their minds.

"Grrr... sssssir... can't... re-sss... sssist much..." Daymond hissed, pulling at his hair and tearing it away in big brown clumps, his transformation a little ahead of his commander's. His armor had always been a few sizes too big for him, and now strained to contain his expanded ribcage.

Captain Benar, lying low to the ground and clutching his backside as his tail began to sprout, only replied with a low groan. But Kalaz caught sight of the Captain's eyes wandering, hazily, over towards the younger militiaman's backside and fixing there, fast. The experienced soldier let go of his growing tail-stub and, with surprising presence of mind, calmly unstrapped his armour before casually tossing it aside and carefully standing back up.

"I... I'm not... sure what's..." he said, still with reasonable command over his voice, glancing back at Dietmar and the kobold fondling him, before sniffing at the air again. The alien musk of kobold passed him by, but something about the strange, exotic spice of male-raptor called to him, a strange siren song... he felt his maleness stir, and tried to will it back into quiescence as buttons started to pop off his tunic as his chest started to expand and thicken. The pain was fading... it actually felt... kind of good...

Daymond stumbled over to Benar, his lengthening scaled snout sniffing at the air was well, much of his clothing already torn away, his pants dropping to his ankles as his tailbase widened and tore them apart, leaving the youth clad only in his torn shirt. To Benar's surprise, Daymond pushed his snout against his chest, gave a quick lick, and sniffed at the crotch of his pants, before the changing and half-naked militiaman stood back bolt upright, eyes wide.

"I...I... ssssssso... ssssorrrrry, ssssir...awrk!" he hissed, stumbling and falling over onto his hands and knees, unused to the weight of his lengthening tail and thickening talons, legs splayed in the air, kicking slightly with involuntary spasms.

"Sssss... ssssoldier... sssstop... moving..." Captain Benar hissed, mesmerized by the sight of Daymond's thick, swaying tail and strong, sexy hindquarters. On his back like that, it looked almost like he was presenting himself, like a female waiting to be bedded... Before he knew what he was doing, he had jumped down to all fours with surprising vigour, and he felt his claws drag across the younger male's grey flankscales as he took hold of his recruit. Without a moment's hesitation, before he could even fathom the strange instincts roiling through his head, he suddenly buried his inch-long muzzle underneath Daymond's two-foot-long tail, sucking in a deep snoutful of the other male's scent from the ripe places between his thighs, nuzzling the male's scrotum and shaft, inhaling deeply to pick out the scents of raptor emerging from the off-putting musk of male human.

"Mmmmrghh..." the Captain rumbled, feeling his arousal stir in powerful, discrete throbs. Annoyingly, the cloth of his undergarments kept his growing maleness from being properly displayed, so that the younger male could see it... then it occurred to him this wasn't a thought he should be having, this wasn't something he should be doing! Why did he feel it was important to... show his maleness off to Daymond... why did he want to rub himself against the younger male's scales...

"Awwwrr... sssssir?" Daymond burbled, craning his head back as his mostly-human commanding officer crouched down behind him, a strange and almost hungry expression on his short snout. "Ssssssir... what'ssss..." He began, the words seeming to catch oddly in his throat, before we gave a pleasantly surprised chirp as he saw and felt Benar's snout-tip bump into his hanging penis. He wasn't gay, and nor was the Captain! They'd never considered... never found each other in any way attractive! But as another button popped off Benar's half-open tunic to reveal more of the grey-scaled belly beneath, it felt... right, somehow... no, it was too slow, a rut was supposed to be hard, fast, needy...

Whoa, where did *that* thought come from!?

Daymond felt his shaft start to stir, his willingness to obey his commander morphing and muddling up with his new and growing desire for the contact of a scaly body... a strange submissive need...

Both males paused as sanity returned for a moment, and they fought their alien instincts, trying to resist the magic that was changing them in body and mind...

Watching with hungry eyes, Dietmar gave a plaintive bark and felt his own pride continue to grow between his legs, the scent of male-raptor-arousal as potent to him as the scent of kobold; so enthralled was he that he barely noticed Kalaz give his widening flank a quick slap as the kobold stepped out from under him.

"Stay, boy... I'll be back in a moment..." Kalaz said. "Watch your friends, help them if they get close enough, but don't go to them... not yet..."

Dietmar tried to say that he understood, but all that emerged was another bark; that felt right, somehow. Kalaz seemed to know what he meant, and that was all that really mattered.

Around the base of his mutating, lengthening, growing cock, he could feel the taut lips of a smooth slit forming, while his scrotum grew heavier and fuller with what felt like a half-gallon of hot, roiling dino-seed. He could smell his own wet, hot arousal cut through the air as pre-cum dripped onto the dirt road underneath his talons, pouring raptor-musk into the air around them. His clawed hand sneaked under his belly and gave his cock a quick, momentary stroke before he forced himself to stop... his body was growing longer, his hands less dexterous, claws longer, and he had a faint inkling that he soon wouldn't be able to reach... and he wanted few things more than grab his shaft while he still could, take a step or two forward, and spew his new raptor-seed all over his militia comrades, knowing that they'd love it... help them tear their clothes off, rub naked scaly bodies and cocks together, slick with seed and musk, until they came too and bathed him in their scent...

No; he'd been told to stay here and not go to them... maybe if he stroked himself until his raptor-seed soaked the soil and his new taloned feet beneath him, they would come to him, let him help them become as strong and sexy and powerful... more musky preseed soaked the ground below him. Maybe... he sneaked a taloned hand back beneath himself, already finding he couldn't quite reach the base of his shaft...

"Good boy..." Kalaz said, returning, and carrying something that smelled strongly of fresh leather... a saddle and a set of saddlebags, he realised. "That's good, indulging your new instincts, surrendering... let the pleasure take you... ah, heh, heh... not that way, though, not yet; let your master take care of you, you don't need to satisfy your own needs alone, that would be... that would make you a bad raptor, and you wouldn't want that, would you? Now, kneel down... it's time for you to wear the trappings of your new station..."

Chastened, Dietmar relinquished his grasp on his lengthening shaft, and lowered himself to the ground, feeling the cool leather settle over his scales. He gave a low, purring growl as the saddle was strapped around his belly and back, nice and taut against his thick scales. A pair of sandal-like stirrups came to rest against his sides, and Dietmar instinctively bowed his head to let the kobold strap a thick leather bit into his sharp-toothed muzzle.

Yes; this was it, this was right, this was it! He'd never felt such strength, such certainty, such pride in himself. Dietmar scratched his muzzle and adjusted the bit in his teeth with his clumsy, long-clawed fingers, and then settled himself down on the ground belly-first so that the kobold could ride him. Pride and arousal alike warmed the new raptor's chest as he saw that both the other males had turned to look at what was happening, and had faint looks of confused envy on their faces... no, muzzles. Beneath him, his cock continued to give slow, heavy throbs accompanied by heavy squirts of pre-seed. His male-scent was beginning to overpower the scent of spices and horses from the well-worn road, replacing it with the cloying tang of raptor-musk.

"Ahhh... now, your master wants you to lift that big, sexy tail up as high as you can hike it, my pet..." Kalaz whispered into Dietmar's earhole, rubbing the raptor's sides and grinning broadly. The kobold slid zipped a large flap on the front of his pants open, and began to rub the swollen scales of his male-slit as he turned to address Captain Benar and Daymond. "And as for you two, take care of your own needs while we are... busy."

Dietmar obeyed; uncertainly, not sure what was going to happen. But as Kalaz stripped his clothing away slowly, the scent of kobold-need intensified still further, running through and through his head. He could not disobey, not dream of it... he lowered his head to the ground, bending his knees still further and feeling his shaft rub against the thin grass of the forest floor, his stiff tail rising slowly to reveal his waiting tailhole. He chomped on the bit in his mouth, testing it, growling into it. It was his, and he wore it with pride; his stiff maleness dripped more precum.

The changing raptors turned towards one another, yellowed eyes meeting as they both sucked in breath unsteadily. They were already finding it hard not to... do more to each other, their mutual arousal making it hard for each other to resist. Something about the kobold's casual commands... changed their internal battlefields. Though he didn't entirely want to, Captain Benar lowered his head to nuzzle at Daymond's hardening shaft again, startling himself by extending his tongue and licking up a small bead of precum that was forming on the head... he might not want to... not completely, not rationally... but he'd been told to, and somehow... he needed to obey.

Come to that, he didn't entirely want *not* to do this, he thought, as the musky and heady taste of virile young male raptor filled his growing snout, his pants tenting painfully as his tail also lengthened. The taste of the young, half-raptor recruit was thick with flavors a human tongue could never taste; so alive and potent that his weary, older bones felt the years lift from them. His raptorhood kept growing larger and harder as he licked at Daymond's shaft, while the recruit gave yowling, submissive barks, his verbal half-protests fading into more feral cries as his neck thickened and his muzzle lengthened. Raptors shouldn't talk; Benar felt oddly pleased at silencing his underling, even as the last button popped free from his tunic and it flapped open, baring his scaly, growing torso. His changes were proceeding much more slowly than Daymond's, for some reason... he felt torn between envy that Daymond was going to be a raptor quicker, and gladness that he could savour his changing form for longer - and a degree of confusion that he didn't want it to *stop*, as he logically felt he should think.

Suddenly, as if possessed by a force outside himself, Daymond pulled himself away from Captain Benar's claws. The younger raptor only walked forward a few paces on his big, taloned paws before he turned and flopped down on his side, before using his tail and legs to roll over onto his back, exposing the smooth, leathery curves of his rump and tailhole. The raptor's growing cock- far more modest than Benar's massive pride- flopped against his pale-grey bellyscales and left a string of sticky pre-cum smeared there as he spread his legs. "Rrrrawww?" he purred, begging his former commander to do... something?

The half-raptor Captain sauntered forward almost casually, setting his clawed hands down on Daymond's shoulders and pushing him down hard into the dirt as he straddled the other's tail. Operating entirely on lust and instinct, the larger, more mature male pushed his cock down against the base of the lithe, lean, younger raptor's long, fully-grown tail, and began to hump against the smooth scales. Captain Benar gave a low hiss as he dug his growing, curved talons into the ground underneath his paws, the last shreds of his leather boots falling away as his lengthening feet and legs tore through the laces at last. Both he and Daymond pressed against one another, belly to scaly belly, suddenly possessed by maddening, animal urges - as Kalaz had instructed them to be.

"Rrrrr...rrrrrggh..." Captain Benar growled threateningly, as he used the thick pole of his raptorhood like a crude club, humping against the smaller raptor's pride and covering it in his scent; in between humps he rose to all fours, letting Daymond see his shaft, as instinct demanded. He felt the need to make Daymond submit, even more than the young militiaman already was. The younger male's musk was fresher than his, but the smell was not nearly as strong or virile as his own. Yes... the younger one had to submit, had to be shown the strength and savagery of a real male. Marked with a real male's scent, covered with it, made to bathe in it and sleep in it until he too was as ripe and mature as an experienced hunter.

"Rrrrrrgh... ssss...sssubmiiiiiiit..." he growled, the word hard to form as his head changed further, sharp teeth pushing through his gums, his tail growing into a fuller counterweight. He lowered his body over Daymond's and let his weight rest atop the other male, forcing him into the soft ground, his raptorhood's tip starting to catch in a small cleft under the mostly-changed-male's tail in a way that made his shaft leak preseed more copiously than before...

Kalaz was almost beside himself with glee. He turned to face Dietmar, stroking his long muzzle before slowly kissing him right on the tip of his muzzle. Giving a purring rumble into the kiss, Dietmar bowed his snout lower and raised his tail higher, suddenly overcome by a sense of protective love for his new master. Dietmar turned away from the sight of his former friends preparing to mate and gave a needy bark, turning so that he could offer his broad rear and flanks to Kalaz's stroking paw.

"Very good... you learn fast!" Kalaz said, laughing, stripping off his tunic and stepping away from Dietmar's muzzle, running a single claw down the raptor's flank as he stepped slowly around the fully-transformed raptor, leaning in behind him to give a gentle touch on his tailhole, and run a finger down the length of the raptor's dripping shaft. "Good raptor..." he said, his pants rustling as they fell to his knees, his maleness everting rapidly.

Dietmar gave a purr as he felt his master press his small body close behind him, spreading his legs a little to lower his tailbase closer to Kalaz' level, feeling the hot but small maleness of his new rider press against his thigh, leaving a faintly cooler patch where Kalaz' slitfluids dampened the scales.

Near them, Captain Benar and Daymond gave a pair of loud, synchronized hisses as the older raptor's pre-soaked cock finally caught inside the cleft of Daymond's under-tail. At that instant, the Captain's mind was flooded with inhuman lusts. The instinct to mate, to love, to take the male underneath him was so overpowering he couldn't help but thrust in as deep as he could, growling and mewling in savage pleasure. He flexed his tail behind him in an assertive display, showing the strength in his massive, scaly haunches. With the motion, his strained pants finally split open down the seams, exposing his scaly thighs fully. The cool evening air on his new scales felt good, where the fabric had felt... restricting, out of place. He felt a vague desire to pause to tear his shirt and the remains of his pants away from him to leave his changing body naked... but other needs had much more immediate precedence in his mind!

As he wiggled and pressed himself into the tail-hole of the raptor who'd once been his young subordinate, the last of the Captain's tail stretched out to its full length, drawing his own haunches outward even further. The older raptor felt his anus quiver in pleasure as it was pulled out into a leathery tail-hole, surrounded by the massive, thick thigh-muscles in his changing legs. Even pressed low to the ground as he was, he rose onto his toes, his feet lengthening into saurian hindpaws, his torso filling with new power and vigour.

He felt like he could run any distance, swim the strongest river, or do anything his heart desired... but right then and there all of that seemed distant from the immediate need to mate. Underneath him, Daymond bared his leathery neck and folded his clawed arms back with a growl that sounded submissive and meek, leaving himself completely open and ready. The smaller raptor was twitching and hissing as Benar held his maleness inside him, and the larger saurian suddenly realized just how *big* his new maleness was. Daymond's raptorhood was easily double the size of his old pride; twelve mighty inches. His was probably even bigger...

Ah! No wonder the little one was shivering and mewling so much! As far as Benar knew, Daymond had been a virgin human-male; this would be his first taking, the first time he taught the younger male, as he'd taught him before. Good...

Dietmar watched all of this with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, snorting in the musk of his fellow raptors and feeling his own raptorhood throb and leak with arousal.

"Ah... such fine raptors you make..." Kalaz said, idly wiping a droplet of precum from the tip of Dietmar's newly-tapered and far longer shaft, and deftly flicking the top of another potion vial open. "But I hope you don't mind if I make you a little bit more..." the kobold paused, searching for a word. "Gifted." he settled on, giggling to himself. "Now stay very still."

Giving a questioning "Awwrl?", Dietmar bowed his head and looked between his legs to see the kobold delicately holding the opened vial next to his quivering maleness. "Stay still!" the kobold barked, and Dietmar froze and watched with curiosity.

Kalaz poured a drop carefully onto the base of Dietmar's raptorhood, watching the dark-brown liquid roll down the rigid red shaft. Dietmar felt an odd burning sensation follow it... more magic, he realised! Then Kalaz grasped his raptorhood in one hand, which Dietmar realised suddenly was gloved with soft leather. He felt perversely proud that his maleness was now so large that his master was unable to completely close his fist around it! But thoughts of pride melted away as Kalaz started to stroke it gently, spreading the fluid across Dietmar's maleness as he let more drops fall from the flask. Each puffed away in a burst of warm smoke, spreading across the flesh like sticky oil that melted right into his cock...

Though the stroking was nice, and Dietmar was so aroused he was on a hair-trigger, the strange sensation was too disconcerting to be erotic, and he gave a small, slightly plaintive bark as he involuntarily shivered. Kalaz ignored him; upending the flask entirely and tossing it aside, using both hands to stroke the 13-inch raptor rod.

"Trust me when I say you do *not* want to get this on the wrong part of your body." the kobold said, laughing darkly, and Dietmar suddenly saw and felt his maleness start to... change.

Near the base, Kalaz' small fingers suddenly started to catch on an odd, raised ridge of flesh in a way that made Dietmar pant with the intensity of the new sensation, a new pleasure-spot forming under Kalaz' questing fingers. Then, moments later, he felt another ridge start to form, slightly further along his shaft.

As the ridges continued to rise out of his cockflesh, a stronger surge of pleasure began to expand out from near the base of his maleness, right outside the confines of his male-slit. Dietmar couldn't help but growl as it began to bulge outward, forming a thick ball of crimson-red cockflesh. The new knot felt soft to him, though; as if it could inflate much larger. His cock lengthened a little more, bobbing between his legs in fits and starts as Kalaz furiously stroked it, spreading the fading potion up and down it with rough, rapid strokes. It was almost painfully intense; the kobold's leather gloves had such a coarse texture to them...

Deeper inside him, he felt further changes; not just his shaft was expanding, he thought, as he felt his internal testes swell larger, visible bulges appearing under his scaly skin as they churned with still more seed than ever before. The burning sensation was accompanied by a sudden gush of pleasure through his maleness, so powerful it overwhelmed the numb, tingling feeling of reshaping flesh. Dietmar felt thick strings of precum shoot out of his mutated cock, and suddenly the air around him was wet and burning with a sexual musk that made him shiver with arousal. His scent was tinged with dragon-fire! The raptor growled and barked, feeling the warmth of feral pride in his chest.

"Most excellent... ah, raptor-shafts have their charms, I suppose, but nothing quite equals the... appeal of a dragon's maleness, oh yes..." Kalaz said, admiring his handiwork. "I feel envious of your friends there... when we're done, when you're off-duty, you can teach them all about the delights of being mated by a dragonhood..." he breathed, his voice husky with the fantasy.

The burning was fading fast, and replaced with Dietmar's pure arousal, stronger than before, the odd new musk in the air somehow more potent than before - and then Kalaz let go of his cock entirely. Dietmar gave a mewling growl of frustration.

"Now, now... master needs to... do one last 'experiment', my little dracoraptor..." Kalaz said, chuckling again, his voice husky with his own arousal as he discarded his gloves. He stepped closer to Dietmar's hindquarters again, bent down, and gave Dietmar's sensitive tailhole a gentle touch with a clawed finger, making the raptor shiver with unexpected delight. Yes... like Daymond, he suddenly wanted, needed to be filled, to show his submission...

Dietmar gave a startled bark when he felt Kalaz slide something slick and... strangely smooth around his maleness. It was some sort of long, clear tube lined with something slimy, surrounded by machinery, attached at the end to a large, open vial. Kalaz flicked a lever on the front of the device, and suddenly a powerful, wet, sucking pleasure grasped hold of his transformed raptor-hood.

Kalaz started to rub his small body against Dietmar's tailbase, and Dietmar felt the kobold's maleness jab against his thigh, then under his tail, then into the small cleft at the very base of his maleness... he gave a sharp bark of need and encouragement.

"Goood raptor..." Kalaz breathed, sighing as he started to press his small shaft into Dietmar's tailhole. The koboldhood was rather small for the larger male's passage, but it was hot, leaking, and it was his master's.... Dietmar felt more aroused than ever before, his new dragoncock leaking faster, the bottle under his talons quickly filling up with the fluids he was dribbling constantly. The pleasure from his master took his tail and milked his shaft was only intensified by being able to watch his former comrades mate each other...

Captain Benar was now thrusting into Daymond so roughly the two raptors had carved a divot in the thick-packed earth of the road, barking in delight as they rutted together. Dietmar watched in his own ecstasy as the alchemist's device milked his dragon-cock, and the kobold thrust in and out of his tail-hole. The smaller reptile practically hung off his massive, powerful haunches, but the feel of a maleness pushing in and out of his tail-hole was wonderful enough he already felt his body growing stiff and tense with pleasure, arousal that had been building up all through the increasingly-erotic display of transforming-raptor-male-rutting all around him, and the tender ministrations of his master.

Kalaz was surprisingly strong for his small stature; Dietmar felt the little kobold push into his tailhole and pull out at least twice a second. The kobold began to give breathy yips of arousal, slamming his hips against Dietmar's scaly rear while holding onto his tail for balance.

"Ooooh yessss... this is... even better... than I imagined!" Kalaz exclaimed, as the kobold leaned forward across the raptor's body and began to slap Dietmar's thick, leathery rear as he humped into it. "Such good, sexy raptors of mine... yes... yes! I'm..." he began, before breaking off into a high-pitched yip.

Dietmar suddenly felt the heat of his master's seed gush up into his tailhole, in small but energetic spurts. Combined with the feeling of the strange device mercilessly sucking on his cock, it was too much to take. Dietmar shivered and reared back on his haunches, spreading his powerful legs out as his cock began to throb powerfully; he knew he was going to cum, but somehow the feeling was better than he ever remembered, as the pleasure climbed and built to a higher plateau than he could ever recall. When he came it was almost a surprise, a sudden precipice that was as unfamiliar as it was gloriously fulfilling. At the very apex, his huge new cock began to shoot huge, milky spurts of dragonraptor-seed into the device's collection vial. His massive internal balls clenched again and again between his legs as he continued to heedlessly pour his seed into it, cumming until the sucking stimulation was painful. Dietmar let out a sharp yowl and began to shake on his haunches as his overstimulated dragon-meat twitched, spent of seed but locked into the sucking tube by his own knot. It had grown so large he could see it deforming the sides of the tube it was stuck in...

Dietmar felt Kalaz dismount him and bark something sharply in the kobold tongue. The sucking stopped abruptly, and then Kalaz gave him a pat across the muzzle and said, "Ah... apologies. But all in a good cause... I think your seed could have some, aheh, 'interesting' effects..." he panted hard, his cock still throbbing but as spent as Dietmar's own.

Both turned when a sharp yowl drew their eyes towards the other former militiamen. Captain Benar was biting Daymond's scaly neck hard enough to draw trickles of blood, while both raptors rocked through powerful, messy orgasms. Benar's seed leaked from Daymond's tailhole even as the larger raptor continued rolling his hips mercilessly, while the smaller grey raptor's release made both of their bellyscales slick and milky with male-essence, their motions making squelching sounds as they rubbed together, both former human militiamen lost in the throes of their ecstatic mating, delighting in the novelty of their new forms as well as the alien pleasures of a male-rut.

Kalaz gently wiped his spent koboldhood around Dietmar's tailhole and walked back towards his discarded armor. Withdrawing a wet cloth, he wiped down his slit and shaft before pushing his softening koboldhood back inside himself with a slight sigh of satisfaction.

"Most excellent... I think we'll get along just fine. I needed some, aheh, release of tension ahead of the real work; I need to focus. That, too... I suppose... is one of your new duties. Now, is there any pond or stream nearby we could use to cleanse your scales, and your... packmates, too?" Kalaz asked Dietmar.

"Awp." the raptor barked in reply, shaking his head.

"Well, that's fine I suppose. We'll make do..." Kalaz said, quickly donning his armour once more before walking back towards Dietmar. Pausing only to pull the collection-device from the raptor's softening knot and wrap it securely in a saddlebag, he stepped up onto the raptor's back using the stirrups. "We're going to ride back into town, Dietmar... and give you a chance to make some new packmates..." the kobold added, laughing as he stroked the back of Dietmar's long neck. "You two! The time for pleasure is over, for now. Fall in behind us and guard me!" Kalaz shouted to Benar and Daymond.

Giving Daymond's neck a last, long, lingering lick, Benar began to withdraw his raptorhood from the other male's tailhole, noting with some satisfaction that he had sixteen inches of thick raptor-meat, easily beating the smaller male's shaft. Yes, he could make many other males pant and spill their seed in delight... but not now. He had his orders. Daymond stumbled up to his feet shortly thereafter, following meekly behind the larger male but digging his talons into the ground and rending it between his sickle-claws.

"Let's go!" Kalaz shouted, shaking the reins attached to Dietmar's muzzle and gently kicking his leathery sides. Dietmar took off like a shot, bounding off into the tall grass before falling into a creeping hunting-stance to sneak through it. He leapt over the felled logs and perched atop tree-trunks as he snuck quietly through the darkness, relishing his newfound power mixed with the oddly powerful feeling of his afterglow. Behind him, he heard little save the rustling of wind, but smelt the potent, pungent scents of his packmates. Both of their musks were mixed with each other's, making it hard to tell which was which. Off in the distance, towards the village, he thought he could make out some sound.

The shattering of glass... distant cries...

And then an explosion split the still summer air.

Dietmar ducked low as firelight burst through the darkened sky, turning to silently query Kalaz for his orders.

"Keep going, Dietmar", he said, looking up at the moon through the trees. "Things are right on schedule..."

(END PT 1)