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The Bear Skin Guild was hired when ferocity was a requisite and subtlety was unimportant. Composed primarily of Nords, with some other mer who had proven themselves vicious and violent and willing to do anything for money, they were a guild that was called upon for the most sickening of contracts. Some, naïve of the ways of the world, would have assumed that such a reputation would be bad for business. In fact, the Bear Skin Guild enjoyed a steady stream of contracts, from men eager to pay for warriors and brutes without a shred of decency or conscience.

Five members of the Bear Skin Guild had been hired by a man named Gunnar. They had just completed a contracted, and were happy to take a contract outside of the guild. They could pocket whatever payment they received. Captain Leyland was the leader of this particular squad, a bear of a man, standing 6'6" and weighing close to four hundred pounds. As was customary with the Bear Skin Guild, he wore no armor and went bare chested, his chiseled torso adorned with several blue tattoos and paint markings that spoke of his many skills and strengths and the thousands of battlefields he had seen in his long life. Perhaps the most prominent of these markings was on his face, however: a long, slender series of streaks that curled around his orbital bone and ran down his cheek to his neck, joining with all the tattoos over his pectorals and ribs. This particular tattoo, worn on his face, he claimed he had adorned himself with it after he slaughtered his first (of many) dragons.

The rest of the squad were typical Nords: tall and powerfully built, fair haired and fair skinned and boasting torso that wore tattoos and scars proudly. They were brutish men, especially when compared to Gunnar, who was comparatively small and light. He wore a black cloak over most of his body, only his face revealed, and it was known he was an Imperial. As far as the Nords could tell, he carried no weapons, unless a rapier or dagger was concealed beneath his cloak. Nevertheless, they had nothing to fear of such petty weapons. Each of the five guild members carried a sword or axe larger than the stranger who had hired them. Each of the five men were confident they could cut down the little man with no trouble at all. Perhaps they would. This was not an official contract with the Bear Skin Guild. Some simple fool had recognized them in a tavern and asked if they might help with a task, offering a pathetic sum of gold for their time and effort. It was Captain Leyland who had agreed to the task. Had he not been present, any one of the other four Nords would have cut the stranger down without a second thought.

They left the city's limits, and ventured towards a cave that was not far away. Could the "simple task" be some sort of extermination job? It was not Leyland's favorite, but there was generally loot to be had, and whatever he earned in this time he could keep. It would not go to the Guild's central bank for "proper distribution" amongst the members.

"In here," Gunnar said, his voice muffled by the cloth that was worn tightly wrapped around his face.

The cave's interior was illuminated with several glowing stones, magical in nature, which hung from the cave's roofs. They provided a brilliant glow that illuminated the interior as if it were open plains on a bright harvest day.

"If the job is extermination, than we keep whatever loot we find," Leyland said. "If not, then we're leaving."

Gunnar lowered his hood, and rolling his shoulders, his cloak suddenly fell off his small frame and onto the ground at his feet. Beneath the cloak, it was revealed, he was bare and nude, body small and weak and withered to a sickly extent. He smiled wide, displaying oddly sharp teeth, and spoke simple words: "I don't recall you leaving being a term of the contract."

The Nords all drew their swords and axes from the sheaths, although Leyland lifted a hand to stay his men. "Who are you?" the captain asked.

"You razed the village called Nietch two days ago. You murdered every man, woman, and child. There is nothing more to be said."

Leyland's laughter was loud and raucous. It was only when Gunnar took a deep breath, suddenly releasing a powerful Shout that the captain's staunch gravity returned, and he glared at the Imperial. To his surprise, however, the Imperial was no longer standing before him. Instead, there was a humanoid creature, resembling an Argonian, considering the scales that were now covering the humanoid's body and the shape length of the muzzle. The humanoid continued to grin, teeth shown to be growing thicker and longer and sharper, the body itself growing to match the size of the maw. The humanoid soon found it prudent to lower onto all fours, as a long, thick tail sprouted from its lower back and its neck grew forward, the mouth continuing to grin wide, glistening in the bright light of the magic stones like a blade that had been polished to a mirror sheen.

The captain took a few hesitant steps back, as the creature continued to grow larger and thicker. He drew the long Zweihander from his back, although did not advance yet, instead waiting until the transformation stopped. With the body growing and twisting, the creature's vital points were shifting about. It would be too risky to thrust his sword into the flesh, only to fail at hitting anything fatal. The size of the creature was already three time his own; any strike that was made would need to be instantly fatal.

At last the creature finished its growth, and stretched to its full size, rising onto a pair of slender legs and using its tail to keep its balance. It was long and slender in build, thought with acute and clear muscle beneath its scales, quite the contrast to the human form it had been assuming. In contrast to the pale white, almost ghostly skin from before, this creature's scales were black, with a grey belly and grey stripes over its back, and a pair of grey wings stretching from its back. Because it stretched so tall, exposing its underside to the five stunned onlookers, they could see a slit of black over the grey crotch, as well as a subtle bulge that perhaps implied the creature's genitals. Although reptilian in nature, and lacking feathered wings, there could be no doubt that this creature was some sort of dragon.

And because it was a dragon, it could be killed. Hoisting his great sword over his head, Leyland gave a Nord's battle cry and charged, sword out in front of him, intent on thrusting the sword into the dragon's belly with all his might.

Gunnar looked passively at the charging Nord, annoyed by the boisterous noises he made. The Nord was silenced when Gunnar pivoted on one foot, and pulling his tail back, suddenly gave the man a solid whack to the chest. Gunnar had been doing his best to hold back, but it seemed he did not know his own strength when in this form. The man's ribs bent and broke, shards of bone poking out of the flesh, gaping holes dribbling crimson over the fair skin. The man was sent tumbling and twisting painfully over the ground, at last coming to rest not far from his collective comrades. Gunnar assumed he had broken his toy, until Leyland put his hands beneath him and attempted to push himself up. Yes, there was a reason he was a captain, but Gunnar had no mercy or pity for men such as these. Each stomp he made as he advanced upon the wounded man made the cave shake and shudder. Leyland could not get up in time to flee, and his four comrades were so utterly petrified by the spectacle, none of them could move, as Gunnar's forelegs came to rest at either side of them. If they looked up, they would be treated to the sight of the dragon's powerful chest and long torso. Further down the grey underbelly, they would once more be confronted with the black lips of his sheath, and the slight protrusion of his swelling testicles, which seemed to be growing larger and fuller.

Unable to lift himself, the captain instead rolled onto his back, only to be confronted by the dragon's genitals, swaying over him like a solar deity. The testicles were each the size of a grown Nord, at least, but what he found most horrifying was the black lips of the sheath that were slowly parting, revealing the iron black miniature dragon that lived within. The intention of the dragon was clear; to flaunt his great pride over the helpless Nord. The sight, as well as the odors that were radiating from the groin was awful, and although Leyland tried to crawl away, perhaps his back had been broken on impact, because he could not find the strength.

Gunnar balanced on three of his large feet, and lifted one of his rear paws high into the air. He scooted to his side slightly, so that the paw's underside replaced the sight of his genitals, before he began to lower the paw down, slowly, slowly, slowly...

The captain closed his eyes and lifted his hands as he felt the wrinkled sole of the dragon pressing upon his front. The paw pads were surprisingly soft, like leather, perhaps to aid in weight distribution for the great body they supported, and at first when they pressed into the Nord; they yielded enough that it was not painful. But the pressure continued, Gunnar slowly putting more of his weigh down, which made the Nord struggle and kick and even bite, which actually felt quite wonderful on his feet. In fact, he lifted his foot up, giving Leyland a chance to breath, only for the paw to suddenly slam down all at once. Gunnar felt bones break under his sensitive pad, and licked his lips happily. Balancing as best he could on two legs, one of his forepaws stretched down his body and groped greedily for the erection that was peeking out of his slit. Only the head had emerged, engorged and eager, and he rubbed it softly as he applied more and more weight to the helpless man. He felt the body tensing and fighting more, and then go still as the pressure utterly smothered it. A moment later, the entire body popped, and sickly moisture washed over his pad. Gunnar sighed, and flattened his paw fully. Crimson goo spread out from under it. He smeared the guts and blood that clung to the leather pad on the ground, but found he could not get the shards of bone and gore off. It seemed even in death, the captain would pester him.

Gunnar looked to the four remaining Nords, who stared at him, utterly shocked at what they had just witnessed. Certainly all four of them had dealt with dragons in the past, but such a display of cruelty, not to mention the mesmerizing black shaft that was now swaying side to side as the dragon lifted onto his rear legs, and clumsily moved forward. Broken from their trance, the Nords all attempted to flee through the mouth of the cave at once, but a massive claw raked all four of them back into the cave with ease. Then, to be sure none of them would flee; the dragon moved a boulder he had left near the mouth of the cave into its path. A bit of brute force, and the boulder was sealed tight into the mouth, so not even a breath of fresh air could enter. Later, he could smash his way out with ease, but his four toys were left utterly trapped.

Gunnar sat down where he was, and rested his back against the boulder, stretching his slender rear legs out. One of his paws was relatively clean. The other had the ghastly remnants of the former captain still clinging to the pad.

"You have seen what I can do," Gunnar said, his voice deep and majestic, and echoing through the cave. "And know, I had planned to kill each and every one of you for the crimes you have committed, but I think mercy may be in order. If you serve me, I will perhaps leave one of you alive to bury his comrades. But first, you must serve me." He scooted over his rump, and stretched his feet out farther. His toes wiggled, eager for the attention his pads would soon receive. "You can start by cleaning my feet."

For several heart beats, no one moved. The feet alone were almost twice the size of even the largest of Nords, to say nothing of the swollen member that was still growing out between the dragon's two muscular thighs, gaining girth several feet at a time.

It was Maxis who came forward first. He was average by Nord standards, although his brown hair marked him as unique compared to his fair haired brethren. He had been carrying a sizable axe, but knowing it was a fool's quest to try to slay the dragon now, he dropped it to the ground as he approached the house sized foot before him, and the bloodied remains of his former captain. Maxis was fortunate. He had been wearing a cloak over his otherwise bare torso, and took that off and wrapped it around his hands. As best he could, he began to rub away the gore that clung to the pad. He threw aside the largest pieces of the bone and flesh, and then used his cloak to soak up the blood before it dried.

His comrades came forward eventually, one joining him at the gore soaked foot, the two others attempting to tend to the cleaner sole. As the blood and gore was pulled and washed away, the foot actually grew somewhat appealing to Maxis. The color was a grey that was unlike the rest of the body: something in between the black over the dragon's back and the grey of his underbelly. Perhaps the best comparison was to the dark, dark grey that covered his and sheath. Maxis yelped as the foot suddenly shifted, and came to rest on its side. He heard screaming to his side, and turned just in time to see a pair of mammoth fingers take hold of David, who had been working on the foot along with him. Stefan, who had been working the opposing foot, was also snatched up in the dragon's opposing hand, and both hapless men were brought before the dragon's grinning muzzle.

"You two," Gunnar said aloud, although his eyes fixating on Maxis. "Lick my toes."

Maxis looked to the two men who were still dangling, pinched between two fingers. He watched with horror as David was brought higher, now dangling over the dragon's open maw. The depths of the dragon's innards were just past David's toes, and David screamed and hissed and prayed to whatever deity might still be watching over him. The dragon's long, thick tongue slithered out of his mouth and licked gently at David's kicking feet. Coiling around them like a predatory snake, he finally succeeded in gripping David tight around the ankles, before releasing his grip on the squirming prey.

David fell through the air, before the grip on his ankles tightened and he was left to dangle about five feet from the edge of the long muzzle. He begged and screamed, sobbing now, as the tongue slowly recoiled into the mouth, and he gradually approached the scaly, puckered lips of the hungry creature. Inch by inch, David was treated to the horrid stare of the dragon's grey eyes, as the red tongue slipped farther and farther into the black lips. He stopped screaming when his feet touched against the scaly lips, instead just crying and babbling weakly.

Gunnar adjusted his hold on Stefan, now holding the Nord in the palm of his claw. He quickly gripped his black erection, stuffing Stefan against the quivering flesh. Stefan's futile beating and kicks were delightful against the sensitive erection, and Gunnar slowly moved him up and down, starting to masturbate.

David was now up to his belly, his hands gripping at the scales, and he tried in vain to use his powerful upper body to push himself free. Another pull from the tongue, and he was up to his pectorals, his arms forced over his head. His arms grasped at the air in vain, and Gunnar puckered his lips and put them over the man's face. A lone hand was left outside the maw, until the lips once more puckered, and David was suddenly sucked inside. Maxis watched the dragon tilted his head back, and then a grim bulge moved slowly down the throat, eventually disappearing past the dragon's collarbone. Maxis was aware of David's travel, however, as Gunnar used one finger to trace the path of the man, before drawing a circle over his (now slightly larger) belly. Maxis thought he could hear David, screaming and pounding against the fleshy prison, or perhaps that was just his imagination...

His masturbation grew more fevered, and the begging and cursing of Stefan, held tight in his hand, began to grow more and more muffled as he was pressed into the moist flesh. Maxis was suddenly aware that, in addition to hugging and nuzzling the massive toes before him, a tentative hand had slipped into his pants and was rubbing his own aching shaft. Embarrassed, he pulled his slightly wet hand out, and instead tried to focus licking the dragon's toes, hopeful that such affection might earn the dragon's good graces. And he tried his best not to think about how he was... how licking and nuzzling the toes was surprisingly pleasant. Aside from the blood, the dragon's feet were surprisingly clean. The toes were almost as large as Maxis' head, which only encouraged him to treat each one with affection. For the largest of them, he hugged and kissed and nibbled on the thick leather pad.

He heard the dragon roar suddenly, and looked up from his work to see the great erection starting to throb. A moment later, a spurt of white shot to the cave's roof. It arched before hitting, and came crashing down between the dragon's legs. Marshall, who had been servicing the dragon's other foot, suddenly bolted and ran. Maxis watched him, and then watched as Gunnar aimed his next ejaculation carefully. He spurted a massive amount of white cream out of him. It soared high, only to come crashing down upon the ground, and right onto Marshall. Another spurt emerged from the grand cock, and came crashing down into the white puddle, slamming down upon Marshall once more.

Maxis turned his back to the deceased, and focused only on massaging the toes. He kissed and licked and nuzzled the biggest. He nibbled on the nail, and slipped his tongue beneath it to reach the nerve endings that were normally protected. When the foot shifted suddenly, returning to a vertical position, Maxis held tight to the toes and managed to brace himself on the dragon's heel. Undeterred, he pulled the largest toe and the toe beside it apart, and began to gently nibble and bite on the skin between the two.

Gunnar continued rubbing himself, stroking his pride with the white seed and red goo that now soaked his hand. Noticing that the white pool was stirring, he smiled when he noticed the human he had attempted to drown emerge from the goo. Yes, Nords were a hardy race. He plucked Maxis up, squeezing around his ribs with two fingers, and then did the same with poor Marshall, who was spitting up sticky white cream. "A pity you decided to run, tiny one," Gunnar said, holding Marshall in front of his face. "You were both doing so well, I would have considered letting both of you go. But you decided to scoff at my generosity. And an insult like that cannot be taken lightly." He smiled wide. "But you, what is your name, tiny one?"

Maxis gulped when the dragon's eyes came to focus upon him. "Maxis... M-mi lord..."

"You enjoy this, do you not?"

Maxis' silence was taken as a yes, and he was placed down.

"Then feel free to enjoy as much as you like."

The dragon lifted once more to his two rear legs, and flaunted his massive body over Maxis as he took two steps forward. Maxis was now beneath the great body, in much the same way that Leyland had been, but Maxis found this position heavenly. The two great orbs floating above him, the great obelisk of flesh jutting forward from the dragon's powerful thighs, perhaps most importantly though: the quivering, eager pucker that rested beneath the dragon's tail. It was the same grayish black as the dragon's sheath, so Maxis was able to make out its outline between the two massive buttocks. He stared at it eagerly, practically drooling, and throwing shame to the wind, he reached both hands into his pants. Even as the dragon's cheeks grew larger and larger, as Gunnar began to squat, Maxis only found the sight more enticing. When Gunnar finally stopped, there were perhaps ten feet separating Maxis from the crushing embrace of the enormous rump. He could make up every detail of the dragon's crack and tail hole, count the wrinkles of the puckered flesh, and time when it would next flex and open.

Gunnar brought Marshall around to his tail. Still drenched in the white cream, Gunnar found great pleasure in rubbing Marshall against his two massive buttocks, and then sliding and stroking him along his crack. At last, he found the quivering puckered hole of his anus, and quickly placed a finger on the back of Marshall's head. The piercing scream the Nord released was silenced as his head was embraced on all sides by the moist flesh of the puckered hole. Gunnar grumbled happily, feeling his erection starting to grow larger and fuller, despite having just released. He worked the Nord up to mid chest, and then allowed the Nord's fighting and struggles to work himself in deeper, almost to his hips. How easy it was, and how much the Nord's fighting actually helped to work him into the tight sphincter, it was as if Marshall wanted to meet David halfway through the digestive process. Yes, Gunnar was merciful, and to help the Nord on his way, he pushed him fully inside with a finger between the legs. His sphincter closed just past the man's feet, sealing him permanently in his new home.

Gunnar groaned as he stood, and felt Marshall travel deeper through his bowels. A hardy race, Nords could hold their breath for quite a long time. How kind of him to continue providing Gunnar with such blinding pleasure.

Gunnar was going to sit down and just relax, when he remembered that he still had one toy left, underneath him. Groping for a moment, his fingers wrapped around the little man and brought him into the light. By now, the entire cave was filled with the strong odor of draconic musk, but adding to the scents were a few miniscule wafts of human. Gunnar tenderly stroked the man, and then reclined back, resting on a cave wall. He set the human down on his pubic bone, and instantly the Nord was upon the erection, hugging the slippery flesh, kissing it, massaging and rubbing and licking it clean of the white and red. What a delightful slave!

Although the licks from the tiny tongue were delightful, they were not enough to keep Gunnar hard. He felt his erection growing softer, slowly, although Maxis did not seem to notice. Only when the "ground" beneath his feet gave way, and he felt warmth spread over his feet did he think to look down. The sheath of the dragon opened wide, swallowing up a few inches of the erection, and a few inches of Maxis, and although he knew he should be terrified of his fate, he found himself accepting it. He pressed himself into the erection, hugging it tight, as if he intended to merge with the warm, musky obelisk flesh. He licked and hugged it, working his tongue in a circle and swallowing down the white cream covering. He worked diligently and without pause, even as the sheath swallowed him up to his waist and began to clamp around his midriff.

He felt a finger on his head, and looked back to see Gunnar smiling. The gentle pressure on his crown pushed him the rest of the way into the sheath, the shrinking erection following after him and brushing against him. Soon, it was dark and warm, and his only company was the throbbing pillar of flesh that his arms were still wrapped around. He wiggled and ground against it, sighing contently. The musky smell was everywhere now, keeping him painfully erect no matter how many loads he released into the tight cavern he found himself in.

Gunnar gave a long yawn, resting down and relaxing. Oh, that luscious quivering in his genitals felt absolutely heavenly, not to mention the squirming bulk in his ass, and the Nord who was still desperately fighting in his belly. When he woke next, most likely all the twitches and fighting would have died down to nothing, though he did not mind. This new Shout he had tried out was certainly a success. He could imagine no end to the pleasure it would give him.