FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"I said, how do you do?" the dragon repeated. Black blood leaked from its razor teeth as it stood hunched over the carcass of the swamp beast it had just killed, but the voice that left its vicious maw was strangely rich and textured; almost sonorous.

Alphonse blinked twice, unsure of his sight in the storm. His coat and shirt were sopping wet and covered in mud, but his mouth felt very dry. The swamp creature's tentacles were limp around his ankles, uncoiling in spasms as its death throes ceased.

"Deaf? Mute? Or are you merely disconcerted by your brush with death?" the dragon asked. Its scales were black as shadows, but its teeth were ivory white and its eyes a pale yet piercing blue. It grinned at Alphonse and licked its maw with a long red tongue, and then took a step towards him. Despite its size- which easily rivaled that of a large bull, not counting its tail and wings- the dragon moved its great bulk silently. The dragon's form was sleek; it lacked any sign of ridges, horns or frills common to the drakes and dragons Alphonse was used to seeing in books...

"S-sorry, I-I didn't mean to..." Alphonse stammered, taking a step back from the dragon. "I mean, t-thank, thank you for s-saving me. I didn't- I mean, I couldn't see it in the storm."

"Ah, don't worry; twasn't even a trifle. I was out for my evening repast." The dragon replied, stepping over the swamp beast's tentacles as it walked closer to Alphonse. "I did not kill it for your benefit alone, I should say. I doubt you would enjoy the texture and taste of swamp beast flesh without lengthy preparation and some rather potent anti-toxins, but I assure you I find it quite marvelous raw."

"I... yeah. I'll- I'll leave you too that, then?" Alphonse half-asked, unable to stop from wondering what the dragon thought of *his* flesh...

"Mmmhm. Well, that is considerate of you to offer." The dragon said. "But as I do style myself caretaker of these marshlands- guests included. Might I make your acquaintance..?"

"W-what?" Alphonse stammered. "Uh... I suppose so. My name is Alphonse. I was just..."

"A pleasure to meet you! Aheh, heh..." the dragon replied, interrupting him. "Let me guess; trying to shave a half-day's travel off the walk from Silverport to the Giant's Pass?"

Alphonse stared blankly at the dragon. "How did you know..?"

The reptile's smile grew wider. "If you were searching for the Tomb of Van Dük, I would hope you'd equip more than a chainse and coat. If you were travelling north or south, I would hope you'd bring more provisions than could be held in that small pack of yours. Therefore it stood to reason you were either an idiot or travelling towards Giant's Pass... though, you seem to be awfully unprepared for this swamp. There are dangerous creatures here, you know!"

Alphonse shivered, in a way that had little to do with the rain soaking into his clothes.

"So, Alphonse..." the dragon continued, taking another few silent steps closer, close enough Alphonse could see that the creature had no pupils in its bright blue eyes. "Did you lose your way during the daytime? Or did something compel you to travel through the night, heedless of the danger?"

"I..." Alphonse began, turning away from the dragon's eerie gaze. "I was... I thought I could make it before night fell... there was so much rain, the roads washed away and... and I tried to turn back, but I figured I was already most of the way out and then started going east again, and then I couldn't see with the sun going down..."

"You began to hear something following you... you quickened your pace, but didn't turn to look back... and here we all are now! Fascinating!" the dragon replied. "Why are you so frightened, Alphonse?" it asked, rolling the human's name off his tongue slowly. Alphonse blinked rapidly and stood stiff in place as the beast began to walk around behind him, its tail wavering in the air in front of him. He heard the dragon hissing near his left ear and then his right as it curled around behind him, close enough he could feel its warm breath across his cheeks. "Shivering, stuttering, stammering, shaking... are you *afraid* of me?"

"Y-Yes..." Alphonse admitted.

"Why?" the dragon asked, barely loud enough to be heard over the rainfall. The ground underfoot was all muck and murk now, nearly up to Alphonse's ankles, though his boots kept it from pouring in. Rain seemed to slide right off the dragon's scales.

"I'm afraid... because I heard there were black dragons in the swamp... and t-they're... I heard the dragons k-killed people, they were never seen again, a-and they probably ate them, an' threw their b-bones in the water, but..."

"Aheh, heh, heh..." the dragon laughed, pacing back in front of Alphonse and then folding its wings and sitting up before him on all fours, tail lashing. "Oh, the stories people tell in taverns! What madness!"

"Heh! I-I know, right? So many silly rumors!" Alphonse said. "I... I've never even seen a dragon around here before!"

"No doubt! I believe I am the only one, and I usually prefer my solitude!" the dragon replied. "And moreover, it would be silly to throw away perfectly good bones! Crunchy... full of delicious marrow, mmm... heh, heh..." it continued, licking its muzzle.

Alphonse stood there quietly.

"Heh, I'm not going to eat you; don't worry..." the dragon said. "Not when I have a perfectly fine meal right here for breakfast!"

"I... thought you said you were hungry..." Alphonse mumbled.

"Oh... I'm feeling a little peckish, but I think I can wait until morning. A little putrefaction will soften this corpse up nicely." The dragon said with a grin, turning around in a whirl of mud and water and ripping a tentacle off the swamp creature's lifeless body with its teeth. The dragon began to chew and swallow the limb simultaneously, devouring it in scant seconds.

"Yes... still a bit too rubbery for my preference..." it said, its maw dripping with slimy blood. The dragon began to lap the mess off its muzzle with its tongue.

"Heh! A-ah, right! C-can I leave, then? P-please?" Alphonse asked, trying to hide his horror at the gruesome display.

"I've been following you for a while now," the dragon said. "But- as you seem not to have noticed- I am not the only one. It would be *such* a shame to die here, alone, cold and afraid... would it not be? Why don't we head back to my lair for now, hmm?"

"N-no thank you, good wyrm. I must be getting home as quickly as I can." Alphonse replied.

"I insist." The dragon said, smiling again and walking closer.

"W-why are you... what do you want?" Alphonse asked, quietly.

"Well. It is getting late. I suppose I'll spare you the soaring, deceit-laden peroration. I am going to rape you."

Alphonse gasped; his mind froze. "W-what!? Why would you say that!?"

"Well... do you think you'd enjoy vigorous copulation with a creature of my stature and size? It would not be usual, but I've met a few humans and elves over the years who enjoy being ravaged... usually not at *first*, but..."

"Oh g-gods-!" Alphonse sputtered, feeling his knees go weak.

"Then I believe 'rape' is the proper term, is it not?"

"You can't just-"

"I can do whatever I want. My lair is not far. Would you like to walk, or shall I carry you there?" the beast asked, giving Alphonse a grin full of sharp teeth and lurid promise.

Alphonse whimpered. He was young, strong and fast; he'd never lost a fight yet... but one look at the dragon's curved, scythelike talons disabused him of any thought of running or trying to fight the monster...

But he couldn't just go with the wyrm. He still had to deliver his message...

"My lair is this way. You can either follow me there..." the dragon said, leaning its slender neck far enough forward its visage took up most of Alphonse's sight. "Or I'll stalk you until you're near the end of the marsh... pounce on you from the shadows, and *fuck*"-the dragon growled the word out with great force "-your warm, fleshy body wherever I catch you..."

The dragon gave a shockingly soft, mirthful laugh and turned away. Without another word, it began to slink away, nearly disappearing in the rain and darkness before it was very far at all.

Alphonse froze for another second, and then took off after the dragon, his boots sloshing water everywhere as he ran.

"Wait! Wait!"

****

The dragon was nearly impossible to track through the shadows, even though it made no effort at stealth. It was only when lightning illuminated its body or it turned to leer at him with its pale-hued but shining eyes that Alphonse could really see it; the rest of the time he was chasing after flickers of shadowy movement from the creature's tail. By the time they had finally made it to the dragon's lair- hidden underneath a small hill topped by a lonely, skeletal oak tree-Alphonse was heaving for breath. His lungs stung, his stockings and boots were completely waterlogged and he'd lost his hat on a sharp-leafed bush.

Alphonse shivered with cold as he walked through the thick mud on the cavern floor, deep down underground. His belly began to churn with fear as the mud thickened into dirt, and then finally rock covered in slippery slime and moss. The air was thicker and warmer underground, though nearly as wet.

"Welcome to my domicile, Alphonse." The dragon said, giving its wings a gentle shake to loose the rain that had collected atop them during their journey. "I suppose I should supply you with a name. My full name is Gethanrikisithaz... but those neither kin nor kine refer to me by the sobriquet... 'Gethran'."

"Good to meet you..." Alphonse mumbled in reply.

The dragon smiled back at him. "Somehow I doubt your sincerity... but no matter... follow me..."

Alphonse followed. Deeper in the dragon's lair, the floor turned to smoothed stone and the lightning brightened, and then finally became worked stone after they passed marble archway. The design of the dragon's lair was dizzying; corridors that spiraled and seemed to twist in upon themselves, passageways hidden beyond shadows that shouldn't have been. Strange, glowing glyphs pulsed along the ceilings and walls as they passed by, and more than once Alphonse had the unshakable feeling that something like static electricity or magical power was collecting on his skin. Earlier, he'd been in such a panic he hadn't had time to think. As they walked deeper into the bizarre lair and their pace slowed, wild pangs of anxiety and terror throttled his heart. He could see *things* moving in the shadows...

It took Alphonse some time to muster the courage to ask a question. "You're... going to let me go after this... right..?" he asked, in a very quiet voice.

"Of course; you shall be free to go." Gethran replied, turning for a moment to meet his eyes. "Or..." it continued, walking onward. "I could change my mind. I suppose it's within the realm of possibility I'd extend your stay. Or, if you displease me, make it considerably shorter..."

"I... I don't know how t-to... please... one of your kind." Alphonse stammered. "I've never even met a dragon before."

Gethran led him past a wide marble archway and into a hot cavern, one that stank of sulfur. "I know how to please myself." The dragon said. "All I require of you is one simple thing."

"O-okay... what is that?" Alphonse replied. Frantically, he scanned the room around- it seemed like nothing but a low ramp leading into a steaming, muddy pit- but it was hard to take his eyes away from Gethran's blue, iris-less eyes.

"Do exactly as I tell you." the dragon said, smiling viciously. "I'll take you here. Now... strip."

"I... I don't know if t-that is..." Alphonse stammered, trying not to cry. "I mean, I've never even been with a girl l-like that! I-I don't know a damned thing a-about your kind! Why do you e-even want-"

Alphonse saw the dragon's back legs tense for a split-second, but the next moment was a blur. He saw Gethran lunge towards him, teeth bared. Before the scream could leave his throat, he felt a force like an avalanche knock him off his feet. He felt himself sail through the air carried bodily Gethran's weight. Something soft and yielding cushioned his fall, and Alphonse found himself shoved down deep in warm muck by the beast's powerful forepaws.

Submerged and pinned against the bottom of the pit by the dragon's immense strength, Alphonse kicked and swung his fists wildly but totally ineffectually through the thick mud. Alphonse feared for a moment he was going to die drowned in the pit, but after a few ghastly moments of terror Gethran pulled him upright by the front of his coat. Sputtering and trying to clear the muck from his eyes, Alphonse could do little but gasp for breath as he felt the dragon's foreclaws tear his chainse, coat, shirt and undershirt off his body. When he could finally see again, he saw Gethran's pale eyes staring right into his, while the dragon flicked strands of mud-soaked cloth off the tips of its scythe-like talons.

"When I told you to disrobe that was *not* an invitation to parley. Am I perfectly clear now?" the dragon asked, putting one of its muddy forepaws against Alphone's bare back and ever-so-gently prickling the skin with his claws.

"Yes, yes!" Alphonse cried out, arching his back.

"Superlative. But to answer your question... Fall is the mating season for my species. It might surprise you to learn that my kind are both vanishingly rare and extraordinarily antisocial, leaving me with precious few opportunities and even less desire to mate with a female of my species, let alone waste *my* time and treasure raising spawn, ergo-" the dragon slowly pulled Alphonse forward with his paw- "I would much rather sate my lust on a creature that lacks such fecundity. And moreover... I *so* enjoy ravishing soft, tender young humans..."

Trembling, Alphonse closed his eyes as the dragon opened its fearsome maw and then slowly brought his jaws down on his muddy neck. Half-expecting a bite that would tear his throat out, Alphonse instead felt a warm, pleasant tickle as Gethran sucked on his tender flesh. The black dragon's tongue was slimy and slick, and lapped away the mud covering his neck between long, powerful sucks. Gethran pulled his head back and then licked Alphonse across his nose and cheeks, and then again over his neck. The licking tickled him, made him feel like laughing. But just when Alphonse was beginning to relax a little, he felt the dragon's forepaws slam into his belly, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him flying backward into the mud with a splash.

Alphonse instinctively tried to swim away through the warm muck, but he could barely breathe after the wyrm's forceful blow. He thrust his head over the surface and gasped for breath; some of the sulfurous liquid stuck in his eyes and it stung quite badly. He felt the dragon's taloned forepaws latch onto his mud-soaked pants, effortlessly pulling him from the deeper part of the muddy pool and then wrenching him backwards. Alphonse landed just in front of the stony rim of the pit and threw his arms over it, panting as he recovered.

"Simple etiquette dictates that when one is being kissed, one should respond in kind... yes?" Gethran said, crawling over Alphonse and then craning his long head between his forepaws to look at Alphonse from upside down. "If you don't *want* me to be gentle, then I shall oblige."

"Y-you... said... just... do... what... you..." Alphonse panted.

"Doing what I *say* is very well and good, but doing what I *want*... well, heh, that is what you should *really* do." Gethran said, twisting his head right side up and laughing. "Even with that tiny mammalian brain of yours, I'm fairly you confident you can anticipate such simple desires, Alphonse. If I wanted to hump a lifeless sack of flesh, you wouldn't be breathing, now would you?"

Alphonse shuddered. "I... no."

"Good. Now... kiss me." the dragon hissed.

Without hesitation, Alphonse pressed his head forward while still laboring for breath, trying to reach the wyrm's sleek muzzle. But Gethran pulled his head back, shaking it slowly. "Not there..." the dragon said. "Turn around."

Alphonse did so slowly, trying to wipe the grime away from his nose and eyes as he turned himself. Gethran slid his bulk forward in the shallow mud over him, and by the time Alphonse was facing away from the edge of the mud pit the only thing he could see was the dragon's black-scaled underbelly and powerful hindlegs. Between the dragon's back legs, Alphonse could see...

Suddenly, Gethran jumped forward, bowling Alphonse over and squatting down atop his legs. Alphonse felt the dragon's warm, unsoiled scales press against his bare, muddy chest and into his face. Gethran put his immensely powerful forepaws down on Alphonse's hands, pinning them firm to the stone, and then began to rub his underside up and down across his face...

Alphonse was too worn out to cry aloud, and too scared to say anything as the swamp dragon's underside pressed against his nose. Gethran's weight was immense, even though only a fraction of it was resting on him. Warm, smooth scales that smelled of something earthy pressed against his nose...

"Come now; don't be shy. *Pleasure* me... or do you require further motivation..?" Gethran threatened, pressing more of his weight down on Alphonse's legs. The weight of the dragon sitting on his legs made them tingle hot and cold with numbness, and his hands were beginning to feel much the same way...

Alphonse forced himself to open his mouth, and gave Gethran's underscales a wet, muddy kiss. The wyrm's underside was as smooth as it looked, though the scales themselves felt hard as steel plate. He kept frantically kissing, saliva and mud alike rolling off the dragon's hide with ease. The earthy, bitter taste of his muddy spit began to wash away, too, until Alphonse could taste the dragon's scales. They were bitter and sour, with an oily texture and a hint of something... salty?

Alphonse shuddered as he felt a trickle of warm, slippery liquid leak from Gethran's underside, covering his nose and lips. The smell was a powerful, potent reptilian musk, strong enough to make him shudder involuntarily. The taste wasn't much better; sour and salty and oily enough it stuck to his tongue like grease. It wasn't a foul taste, but it *was* strange and strong and cloying. He fought the urge to spit it out, and instead put his lips against the warm, solid scales of Gethran's crotch and pressed his tongue out, slowly lapping against the dragon's armored skin. He felt Gethran's tail slide back and forth over his feet as he moved his mouth over the wyrm's warm underscales, focusing his attention on the hot slit where the liquid was leaking from...

"Mmmm..." Gethran moaned, pulling himself up and off Alphonse. "That isss... almost satisfying. Have you overcome your aversion yet?"

"S-sort of..." Alphonse mumbled, wiping his mouth clean of slit-fluid and then rubbing his sore hands. He looked up into the dragon's luminescent eyes, feeling anger and fear in equal measure. But he suppressed both feelings and moved to lick the dragon's sex again...

Gethran's eyes suddenly narrowed,. "Ah... what is *that* look?" the dragon asked, lowering his head closer. "Do you find the taste of my slit-fluid repulsive? You have something to say; say it."

Alphonse turned his head away. "N-no..."

"Oh really? Be honest, now. Tell me truthfully what you are feeling, or you will not like my punishment." The dragon whispered.

Alphonse looked back at Gethran for a moment, and then looked away again once he caught sight of the dragon's cruel smile and unblinking eyes. "P-please... just... get it over with!" he choked out, as the black wyrm pressed down upon him once more. Alphonse shook his head, crying. "I-I just want to get home quickly... I'm, I'm I-I-"

"Is that all? Another stuttering importune? Pathetic indeed, human." Gethran said, craning his head lower to meet Alphonse's eyes. "Oh, the injustice! The savagery! The unfairnesssss of it all!" the dragon hissed.

"B-but-"

"But nothing!" Gethran spat, baring his teeth. "Legions of elves died from fever and plague in these fetid waters. Van Dük's tomb wraiths haunt the marshes and steal the souls of the unwary. Swamp beasts breed in every marsh and mangrove... and you thought your... *intentions* would save you from them? You humans never surprise me! You all act like fate itself is your steward; you're always *so* surprised to find that mortality applies as well to you as it did your forefathers!"

"I just want to get b-back home! I'm telling you the truth! I swear it!" Alphonse said.

The wyrm gave him a vicious look, and then stared at him as if it was going to speak. But abruptly, the dragon shook its head and laughed. Gethran stepped away from Alphonse, and then leapt deep into the muddy pool, landing with a massive splash in the middle of the warm muck. Alphonse covered his eyes as a rain of warm mud splattered him, as he turned to face where Gethran had dove.

The dragon emerged head-first from the morass. "Liesss..." he hissed, before laughing. The dragon's sonorous voice echoed off the top of the vaulted chamber. Alphonse looked up, but the ceiling was far above and cloaked in shadow.

Gethran slowly began to surface from the murk, the thick mud sliding off his scales like water falling from a leaf. "There is much you are not telling me. Alphonse... what makes you think you can lie to *me*..?"

Alphonse felt fear clutch his heart as he watched the dragon levitate from the mud, and then stand upon it as if it was solid ground. "How did you..?"

"Don't act like such a damned idiot," Gethran rumbled, his pale blue eyes glowing brighter. He rose up on his hindlegs for a second, shaking his great wings out. "Most of those I slake my lusts on do not wish for it to be over quickly; they cry and they beg and they fight and while, heh, *I* would be lying if I said I did not find it all very winsome your actions are not quite the same. You... what is it you are *really* here for..?"

When Alphonse didn't speak, Gethran continued. "Come now," the dragon purred, giving the human a slight smile. "Did you leave some poor child in an unmarked grave? Were you driven from civilization for practicing the black arts? Were you sent by one of my obstreperous cousins to scout my territory? Speak!"

Alphonse remained silent.

"Very well!" The dragon hissed, its blue eyes glowing a brilliant green for a split-second before a blast of indescribable pain shot through Alphonse's head like a migraine compressed into a millisecond.

"Aaaaaagh!" Alphonse cried out, clutching his head tight and convulsing on the ground as brilliant aftershocks of pain throbbed in his head. It felt as though lightning had struck him, and indeed his head felt warm and the skin flushed.

"I don't even need to do this, you know. I could rip the very thoughts from your mind at any time..." the dragon said, leisurely walking towards Alphonse. "But I want to hear it from your own lips, human. Speak, or suffer."

Alphonse managed to crawl to his knees, leaving a trail of mud behind him. He turned and saw Gethran's eyes begin to glow bright again and gave a strangled gasp. "W-wait! Wait! I-I'm a messenger! I... I'm tryin' to make it back to the Qualvale Fortress! I'm-" he paused for breath- "I'm w-with the Qualvale army... we've been under siege for months a-and... I've got to tell them there's no help coming from Silverport."

"A messenger..." the dragon said, thinking on the word before adding. "So that is why you are in such an unreasonable hurry; you believe you are on a mission of importance. And yet the message you seem to be carrying back to your people is one of *doom*..."

Alphonse shook his head and rubbed it as he replied. "T-they have to know. I've got to tell them we're alone..."

"We're always alone," Gethran said. "You can choose to believe otherwise; it would seem someone has suborned you into thinking their cause is worth your life. How pitiful..."

"Be damned, dragon!" Alphonse spat, surprising even himself with the anger in his words. He hesitated a moment when Gethran turned his muzzle and gave him an odd, chilling look, but kept shouting. "You might not give a cold shit about Qualvale or me or *anything* but yourself but I'll not listen to your arrogant fucking words for one second longer, even if you gut me where I stand! Good men an' women have given their *lives* on those walls, and it was no choice of theirs the war came to our home!"

Alphonse gave a great, tremulous sigh, wiping tears away from his muddy cheeks. The dragon turned its head silently, as if examining Alphonse in a new way. Gethran smiled slightly, and then said. "Such conviction from such a young soldier. I think you are overlooking the decisions made before the war came to your home, but you have satisfied my curiosity."

"Then do what you will an' either kill me or let me go. I have a message to deliver to my commander." Alphonse mumbled, still not quite able to look the dragon in his eyes. "While the fortress stands, we've hope yet, monster! Something could always happen!"

The dragon laughed. "Do you think contumelious words make you brave? Allow me to provide you with some insight my four thousand years has provided. When you want something, *really* truly want something you must either take it by force, make it with your own ingenuity, or dispense entirely with the desire. To let idle fantasies consume your thoughts, or to be driven to destruction by an unattainable goal is not heroism; it is madness."

Alphonse briefly looked up, into Gethran's great, pale blue eyes. "Then I'm bloody mad..." he said, grimacing at the dragon.

Gethran smiled back at him, craning his long neck to follow Alphonse's eyes when the human tried to look away. "Fatalism *is* madness. Who are you at war with?" he asked.

"The Lich-Emperor of the North and his armies; Jarval the White. The...."

"Oh really? Van Dük's potion-maker has gone and turned himself into a lich?" Gethran repeated, incredulous. "Fascinating, fascinating... though entirely predictable he shares his master's affectation for wars of conquest. Why do they call him Jarval the White..?"

"I... I heard he... flayed off his own skin, and bleached his bones..." Alphonse replied.

"A vain lich. How droll." Gethran walked closer, his weight leaving nothing but the shallowest of paw-prints along the surface of the mud pool. Alphonse looked down between the dragon's hindlegs, drawn by the sight of something new. The scales around Gethran's crotch were pulling apart, revealing a fleshy, dark purple shape quite unlike his slick hide. The tip of the dragon's phallus, he was sure of it now. The smooth, tapered cockhead was easily the size of his fist, and coated with slimy fluids that glistened in the dim light...

"Alphonse... I think I would like to alter the terms of my demand. What would you say if I offered you the chance to deal with Jarval and his minions on a permanent basis? What price would you be willing to pay..?" the black wyrm smiled, and raised a single scythe-clawed forepaw. It's eyes flashed brilliant green again, and a sphere of unstable magical power burst into existence in between its claws.

Alphonse looked away from the dragon's swelling sex and stared at the sphere of energy as it crackled, and then formed distorted images. Jarval the White, grinning the wicked, eternal smile of the skeletal dead. Qualvale Fortress, besieged by storm and skeletons marching in perfect formations. Then, his own reflection, distorted and wavering as the sphere of magical force dissipated in the wyrm's paw...

Alphonse stared at where Gethran had been holding the sphere, until the dragon closed his paw tight and set it back down on the mud before him. "I... I'd do anything..." Alphonse whispered, before meeting Gethran's eyes again. The dragon's toothsome smile was nowhere near as frightening as the monstrous dragon's eyes, which seemed to gleam with the promise of damnation or worse. "Anything..." he heard himself repeat.

"You really would do *anything*?" the dragon said, an oddly surprised inflection in its voice

Alphonse nodded. "Yes," he said, firmly.

Gethran laughed, quietly. "I doubt your imagination is the equal of mine, but let us pretend for a moment you *really* are serious. Nothing is without price; the price of this favor would be great indeed. Would you pledge to me your very life? Would you let me hold the strands of your fate within my claws and... pluck them?"

"Wha-? What sort of trick is this? Why are you toying with me!?" Alphonse asked, frowning. "You... you could kill me right now, and-"

The dragon smiled. "Indeed I could. And indeed I have not told you anything but what I wanted you to hear. But the bargain we would strike requires no compulsion- magical or otherwise- influence your decision. It is ancient power, it would bind us both. The choice must be yours and yours alone. But you *will* get what you want. Now think quickly, boy; my munificence is not without limits."

Alphonse swallowed hard, and then very slowly rose to his feet before the dragon. He held his hands at his sides to stop them from trembling, and tried to ignore the sick feeling welling up in the pit of his stomach. A small voice inside his head screamed at him: what was he doing, thinking of bargaining his life to a sadistic dragon!? And yet, if there was any chance at all to save his home...

Alphonse took in a deep breath and held it, and then closed his eyes and nodded to Gethran. "If you help me stop Jarval, I'll do it... I'd do whatever you want..." he looked up, suddenly adding. "Anything, so long as Qualvale is made safe, and you *swear* upon your own black oath neither it nor my kin are brought to ruin by some contrivance!"

Gethran laughed. "Wise choice of words! You are already beginning to learn. Yes, I will not bring any harm to your people after our bargain is struck, nor allow any harm nor misfortune to befall them..."

"Then... I agree. Whatever price you ask, I shall pay it." Alphonse said, sighing deeply. He felt a great weight settle upon his heart, and he tried to ignore the feeling he'd just made a terrible mistake. "So... what happens now?"

"Now?" the dragon repeated, leaping forward and knocking Alphonse over. He reacted quickly enough to throw his arms backwards and catch himself, but he was pushed off-balance by the wyrm's pointed head soon thereafter. Gethran breathed in deeply through his snout, smelling the young human's crotch and then rubbing his head against the male's muddy belly. "Now... you become mine. Where were we..?"

"But w-we have a deal!" Alphonse protested, trying to push the dragon's head away. It was useless, like trying to uproot tree. "Y-you're not going to-"

"Oh, yes, I am..." the dragon said, pressing Alphonse down against the stone floor and raising his wings over the both of them. "I own you. This is part and parcel of the price you shall pay for my aid... and moreover, I think you need a lesson in *power*..."

Alphonse saw Gethran's member evert further from the taut slit between the dragon's hindlegs. The deep purple cock hung limp at first, twitching as it grew and hardened. He tried to squirm away beneath the beast, but found the wyrm's cock shoved up against his face. Gethran's member oozed more pre-cum as it became erect, dragging against his cheeks and nose. The fleshy, slimy penis was warm and slick, thicker and longer than his arm. Alphonse opened his mouth to protest, and felt the smooth, bestial rod drag across his open lips, sending a warm trickle of preseed down his chin...

"You see, power means many things. It is the right to take a man's life, enslave him to your will, deny or grant him the provisions upon which his life depends... the ability to make him bear your scent..." Gethran said from above. "Power is why son bows to father, why slaves obey their masters, why peasants pay taxes to kings, and why a horse draws a cart. Power is what Jarval has, and your people do not have enough of. Power is why you're going to suck my cock..."

"B-but-" Alphonse's protests died as he felt the dragon's swelling member slap against his forehead, spurting a load of pre-seed into his hair. Alphonse blinked rapidly as the pungent smell of dragon-musk began to overwhelm his sense of smell. He could see the dragon's immense cock twitching right before his eyes, and felt more warm splashes of pre-seed jet across his face as the wyrm above him laughed. "I-I-I'm-"

"Size and experience notwithstanding, I want you to pleasure me. You swore yourself to me, did you not? Body, mind... and mouth. Now lick me, human..." Genthran rumbled. "Or I'll take what I want in a way you will enjoy *far* less."

Alphonse trembled, staring wild-eyed at the swelling phallus hanging before him. Long stands of pre-cum drooled off the tip of the smooth, tapered dragonhood, though every so often it would give a powerful twitch and spurt another slick strand of pre-seed against his face. Alphonse closed his eyes and slowly moved his head forward, cautiously opening his mouth and giving the tip of the dragon's dick a slow, tentative lick.

It was just as slimy as it looked and as warm as it had felt against his skin, but the burst of salty, sour and indescribable tastes ran over his tongue and melted into it like strong liquor. He felt the pre-seed mix with his saliva, and spit it out against the dragon's penis before licking it again. Gethran's wyrmhood twitched as it was licked, and then suddenly shot a heavy gush of preseed across his nose. Alphonse shook his head and tried to ignore all the slimy pre-seed leaking down his face, trying hard to focus on... what he had to do. He stared at the dragon's enormous, throbbing rod, grimacing as he tried to steel himself...

"Enough prevarication..." the dragon hissed. Suddenly, Gethran shoved himself forward, forcing the smooth tip of his member past Alphonse's lips and forcing his mouth wide open. The head of the wyrm's shaft slid into his throat, choking him a moment before Gethran pulled back slightly. Dragon-pre shot forcefully down his throat, making him gag on the warm slime...

Alphonse, shocked by the sudden intrusion, gagged and tried to pull his head free, and then reflexively bit down on the dragon's cock. To his surprise, the hot flesh was as hard as cured leather, and the only reaction from Gethran was a contented hiss.

"Yesss... use your teeth... the tickle feelssss... delightful..." the wyrm said, forcing more of his maleness deep into the boy's throat. "Are you beginning to understand now, Alphonse? That nothing in the world is going to keep me from fucking your mouth as I wish?"

Slowly, Gethran began to rock back and forth, using his mouth and throat for pleasure. Alphonse tried to ignore the horrible feelings of humiliation and rage as Gethran pulled back and the dragon's slimy cock filled his mouth with more salty-sour preseed. The dragon's member was so large it hurt his jaws to take it, and only the head was in his mouth! With little room to spare inside his mouth, his cheeks quickly filled up with the strong-tasting sexual fluids, and then they began to well against the back of his throat and leak out from his lips, finally forcing him to swallow some of the slimy dragon-pre. He gulped the first mouthful down, shuddering as the warm, slick stuff slid down his throat and settled in his belly. Gethran's cock gave a throb against his tongue, and filled his mouth back up with more preseed the very next second...

Gethran laid his hindquarters down on Alphonse's lower body, hindpaws spread to the side and tail separating the human's legs from one another. The feel of the dragon's weighty tail pumping up and down against the front of his muddy pants made Alphonse feel strangely aroused, but those feelings were little compared to the dragonhood forced upon him. That feeling, and... the smell of draconic sex and musk, the taste of the powerful wyrm's preseed. Alphonse shivered as he felt his penis begin to erect, in total defiance of his conscious will...

If the dragon noticed, he didn't seem to care. All Alphonse could see of the wyrm was the blurred outline of his shadow-scaled underbelly, and the considerable length of thick purple shaft that wasn't inside his mouth. Nonetheless, the snake-like hisses of pleasure Gethran gave when his cock rubbed against Alphonse's teeth and the way Gethran's musk kept getting thicker and heavier in the air let him know all he needed to about the dragon's state of mind. Alphonse felt lightheaded after being forced to inhale the wyrm's pungent scent for so long; he swallowed mouthful after mouthful of the wyrm's hot, oily precum, until it was all he could taste. He was getting tremendously aroused; his own cock was throbbing hard against the front of his pants. Every so often he caught himself closing his lips around the dragon's cockhead, or rubbing his tongue against the slit, or even sucking on the titanic cock, unable to fully resist pleasuring the creature...

Alphonse knew it was coming when Gethran began to buck in and out of his mouth, and sucked harder. Salty dragon-pre stuffed his mouth overfull every few seconds, and then Gethran curled up against him and dug his hindclaws into Alphonse's pants...

"Grrrrrrrrrrrh!" the dragon growled, his massive cock twitching quickly...

Alphonse tried to hold his head steady as he felt the dragon's internal testes pump out against his belly. In an instant, his mouth filled up with the wyrm's thick, sticky, tremendously salty seed. A second spurt shot past his lips and forced the dragoncum already in his mouth down his throat and out of his lips, gagging him again and filling both his cheeks to bursting. He gulping down the dragon-semen as fast as he could, and still each emission was powerful enough to spray from his lips. Mercifully, Gethran pulled his phallus backwards, giving Alphonse the chance to swallow the seed already in the back of his mouth and throat and spit out the rest.

Alphonse coughed, cum dribbling down his throat as he felt the salty film left in his mouth with his tongue. He blinked and saw the dragon's cock throb right before his eyes, shivering silently as he watched a massive gout of solid-white dragonsperm shoot from the tip of Gethran's gigantic purple phallus. It sprayed him right in the face and then soaked into his muddy hair. He closed his eyes just in time to feel another huge load of seed hit his right eyelid and pour down his cheek. More spurts of cum- just as voluminous as the first few- hit his nose, mouth and neck in turn. Another spurt shot against his nostrils as he tried to turn his head away, and Alphonse felt his sense of smell flood with the overpoweringly pungent scent of Gethran's seed. He opened his mouth to gasp for breath, and involuntarily took another mouthful of sour, salty semen...

The dragon's hissing continued as he came, methodically coating Alphonse's entire head in cum, and then shoving his cock back inside the human's mouth when his climax began to taper. Alphonse kept his eyes closed as he felt Gethran's immense release drip down his face and leak past his lips. Defeated, breathless and reeking of the dragon's cum, Alphonse slowly sucked on the tip of the wyrm's member, dutifully swallowing each anemic spurt of semen forced into his mouth with his eyes still closed.

"Fulsome, I know. Mmmm... heh, 'tis a comely look for you..." the dragon purred, leaning down to lick some of his own fluids from the young soldier's hair. "After all these years I can't tell you how wonderful that felt...*

Alphonse shuddered as the beast's slimy tongue lapped against his head, mouth still full of dragon-cock and the taste of cum. This... this was...

Alphonse's thoughts were brought back to the present when he felt Gethran pull his maleness away. The thick cum coating his face was slowly running down his forehead and dripping off his chin, giving him the chance to open his eyes again. Alphonse felt the wyrm's massive penis rub against his lips as he tried to think of something to say, and thought better of opening his mouth again.

"Do you understand now, human?" Gethran said, laughing as he moved off Alphonse.

Alphonse shuddered, looking away from the wyrm with tears welling in his eyes. He hesitated, and then nodded slowly.

"Tell me..." the dragon breathed...

"I... I a-am... y-yours..." Alphonse said, barely able to gaze in the general direction of the dragon. "A-and y-your s-scent is what I b-bear to show that?" He *hated* Gethran at that moment, hated the dragon more than anything he'd ever hated in his life.

"Good. It is good that you learn quickly, because we are far from finished." Gethran said, suddenly taking hold of Alphonse's mud-soiled pants and tearing them into tatters with his claws. Alphonse struggled as he felt the wyrm's scaled paws press against the flesh of his thighs, but held still when clawtips began to scratch his skin. The dragon curled his long neck downwards, seizing the front of the young soldier's cotton undergarments in his teeth and tearing them off his body in a single wrenching, savage motion.

"Wait, wait!" Alphonse cried out as he fell from his torn undergarments, hitting the mud pool with his bare bottom. He struggled to slip free from the wyrm's monstrous foreclaws; he had a dreadful premonition of what Gethran wanted from him next...

Gethran tossed the remains of Alphonse's torn undergarments to the side, and then narrowed his inhuman eyes in bemusement. "No..." the dragon said, his muzzle slowly curling into a gleeful, vicious smile.

"Y-you don't mean to-" Alphonse choked.

"I do." The beast said, grinning wider. He leaned more of his immense weight on Alphonse, pressing his slick scales flush with the human's bare flesh. The wyrm's monstrous, cum-slickened dragonhood pressed Alphonse's erection against his belly, while the hot, hard, cum-slickened tip came up top of his chest...

"Stop, stop, y-you're going to kill m-me!" Alphonse gasped. Though his clothes had been no protection against the wyrm's claws and teeth, being disrobed completely made him feel terribly vulnerable. The warm mud and cum covering his naked body made him feel wretchedly dirty...

"No, I am not. If I was at my full size I would crush you; this form is just enough to ensure... a nice and tight fit..." Gethran laughed, sliding his muzzle down to Alphonse's neck. Wet, warm, sucking kisses stole the breath from Alphonse's lungs as the dragon's maw enveloped his entire neck from jaw to collarbone, broken up by soft bites...

Alphonse felt as though he was going to die from fright as the dragon's teeth raked his sensitive neck, and the wyrm's penis smeared dragon-seed against his bare belly. "Oh gods... G-Gethran, p-please don't do this!" he pled. "L-let me grant you some other favor! I don't-"

"I want your ass, boy..." the dragon growled, against Alphonse's ear. "I want to plant my seed deep inside you." The wyrm slid his dragonhood down Alphonse's body, letting the tip slowly rub against the other male's penis, before dragging it back further until the slimy cockhead was sliding between Alphonse's thighs...

"Lift your legs." Gethran said.

"N-no, This isn't... I'll not-" Alphonse protested, turning his head from the dragon's maw.

Gethran's eyes flashed green. Alphonse gave a yelp as the dragon's weight vanished, and a half-second later he was being thrown head over heels through the air by invisible force. He landed face first in the shallow part of the mud pool, recovering and turning just in time to see the dragon fly towards him with two mighty beats of his immense black wings. The human gave a panicked cry right before Gethran landed atop him, driving his face back into the mud pool with a wet thunk.

Alphonse was too busy scrabbling for balance against the slimy stone at the bottom of the muck pit to pay much notice the dragon's immense phallus rubbing against his backside, though he felt warm pre-cum shoot across his back and against his backside and thighs. By the time his hands found purchase, the dragon's slimy, pointed cockhead was resting snug between his rumpcheeks...

"You say you understand, but in truth you do not!" the dragon growled. "You're quite impetuous for a human, Alphonse! You belong to me; now act like it! But even if you did not, this was going to happen!"

"You-" Alphonse began, before he felt a sudden stab of pain erupt all along his shoulder. "AAAAAAAHHH!" he screamed, turning to see Gethran's muzzle clamped down on the meat of his upper back, streams of bright red blood leaking though the mud and sweat covering his skin. "WHAT IN THE HELLS!?"

Gethran withdrew his muzzle slowly, and then slowly began to lick the wound. "You belong to me." He said, matter-of-factly, before resuming his licks. "A mating-bite- and the scent of my musk- is to make that fact plainly clear to you as well as the denizens of this swamp."

"YOU B-BIT ME!" Alphonse screamed back, gazing at horror at the blood pouring from his crippled shoulder... though, with every lick, the flow seemed to slow and the hot pain in his shoulder faded some...

"Impetuous whelp! What sort of solider are you?" Gethran growled, though there was no anger in his words- only sadistic bemusement. "Should I bite the other one? Help inure you to the pain?" he asked with a laugh, baring his bloody teeth.

"No, no!" Alphonse quickly said. The dragon let his wings down around them, the scaly membrane slowly dipping into the mud while his forepaws sank into the muck in front of Alphonse's hands. Alphonse felt the dragon's massive cock move forward, pushing against his anus ever-so-slightly...

Alphonse gulped, blinking rapidly as his eyes teared up from pain and irritation. Mud was again covering his face, mixed with the sticky cum still dripping down it. "Gethran, please... p-please don't do this to me..."

"Alphonse..." the dragon said, dragging his name out into a hiss. Gethran held his cum-slickened rod fast against the smaller male's virgin hole. "Say whatever you want; I'll remit you that much..."

Gethran pressed his bulk forward relentlessly, and the tip of the dragon's massive cock slowly squeezed through Alphonse's anus. Alphonse's eyes shot wide open as he felt Gethran's wyrmhood slam into his backside, stretching his bowels impossibly wide impossibly fast. He whimpered, thinking the overwhelming fullness his imagination; it had to be! The dragon's phallus kept pressing deeper and deeper, until the slimy, steel-hard rod was spreading his anus so wide Alphonse thought his backside would simply be split apart.

Alphonse whimpered, gritting his teeth together so hard they hurt. The pain was excruciating, and yet layered over it were horribly strange feelings that had no earthly name. It felt like an itch, a tickle, a tingle building from the inside of his ass and spreading like wildfire into his penis. He began hyperventilating as Gethran's repositioned himself, pushing Alphonse forward with nothing more than his immense cock. Alphonse crawled forward as best he could while so impaled, every tiny movement a struggle with his anal muscles convulsing around the dragon's shaft.

"OhgodsohgodsohgodsOHGODS!" Alphonse screamed, his cry echoing far above. Inch after thick, throbbing inch of dragon-cock pressed deeper into his anal passage, while the bulk of the black wyrm forced both his legs back so far his knees were rubbing against his ears. He shoved against the dragon's chest and then pounded against it with his fists, but Gethran's scales and fight-muscles were as hard as forged steel. The dragon leered at him from above, teeth bared, and pushed harder...

"Mmmmrrrrr... yessssss-ssss!" the beastial dragon hissed, pressing himself down on Alphonse as he bottomed out inside the smaller male. At least half of his cock was still outside of the human.

"Ahhh! Aaaaah! Ahhhhh-hhhhnghg... G-Gethran... stop this... I-"Alphonse heard Gethran hiss again, and then a hot spurt of dragon-pre erupted into his ass, causing a strange, slick, warming feeling to tingle through his innards. Alphonse shivered and tried to pull himself away from the dragon, but found the monster's weight was enough it took as his strength merely to keep his head held above the mud.

Gethran began to lick the front of Alphonse's neck, raking the soft flesh with his teeth between licks as if enjoying the way the human's ass would clench in response. He withdrew slowly....

"Gethran! G-Gethran! S-stop.... Stop, please..." Alphonse whimpered. He shivered constantly as the dragoncock pulled out of his backside, until he felt everything save the smoothly tapered head slide out from his anus. "Damn you, dragon... y-you-are-aaaaaaahhh! GETHRAN!" he screamed, as the wyrm rammed his throbbing dragonhood back inside his ass...

The dragon never replied, simply repeating the previous motion in reverse by pulling out of the boy's bowels quickly and then ever-so-slowly cramming his massive member back into Alphonse's ass. The thrust was smoother, now that the wyrm's slick pre-seed filled the human's hole. The pain was dulled, but the sensation of being taken in such a fashion was... again, no words came to Alphonse that neared the experience. His rump-cheeks felt like they were being split apart, his hole was stretched and burning, his guts completely crammed full of thick, throbbing dragon-cock, and yet his own penis was shockingly hard, squiritng preseed against his own belly and chin...

"Ssssso... tight... mmmm..." Gethran hissed, setting his forepaws on Alphonse's shoulders. Alphonse's arms burned and shook as he tried to hold the dragon's weight, but he managed. The next few thrusts were slow and sloppy, as the beast's bulk pushed him back through the warm mud and muck. Alphonse felt more of the wyrm's pre-seed squirt deep into his insides; the warmth was so deep inside his body now...

Alphonse trembled as each slow thrust spread his backside open wider and pushed the monstrous maleness deeper into his bowels. He clenched his fingers hard around handfuls of mud at the bottom of the pit, until his strength gave and he fell onto his elbows with a small splash. He felt his cock throbbing hard against his belly and the bottom of the slimy muck, as the wyrm's full weight settled upon him. Tears of frustration and rage poured from his eyes, slowly carving channels through the mud and semen caked onto his face, and yet the burning tingles of pleasure inside his ass only grew in strength!

"AAAGH! Y-YOU MONSTER!"Alphonse screamed, again and again trying to crawl away from the dragon mounting him but finding the beast's weight and immense strength insurmountable. Gethran growled and hissed in pleasure, building his thrusts into a steady rhythm that left the young human breathless. Alphonse bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood, and yet couldn't stop the onrush of ecstasy that made each gut-wrenching second of his mounting feel more pleasurable than the last. Even when the dragon's teeth or claws raked his skin, or the dragon's weight felt as though it would break his back, his body betrayed him and trembled with growing arousal.

"Ohgods..." Alphonse whimpered, his whole body shaking in tortuous pleasure as the slow thrusting drove him towards a peak like he'd never felt in his life. Unlike stroking himself to climax, it began as a low, involuntary tremor that made his insides clench repeatedly around the wyrm's shaft, and seemed to build forever and ever, far past when he'd feel his cum squirt into the palm of his hand. "Ohgods, godshelpme, ohhhhhhh... ohhhhh! Ohhh...! AAAAAAAHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"

Gethran bit him across the neck and drove into him hard and fast, stealing the breath from Alphonse's scream and leaving his energy to dissipate in tremors that made him feel as though he'd shake himself apart. Alphonse felt his sight blur and his thoughts dissolve as the intensity of the pleasure blew past anything he'd ever experienced and grew still stronger, until release hit him like a bolt of lightning. A single whimper left his cum-slickened lips like a death-rattle as he felt his cock pulse, and he felt himself cum, and cum, and cum...

Still pinned under the dragon with his legs spread above his head, Alphonse was cumming onto his own face and yet the ecstasy was so powerful he didn't care. His balls clenched so hard they hurt, but the feeling of release was like breath to a suffocating man. His throbbing shaft burnt with pleasure as spurt after spurt of his seed shot from his penis onto his face, belly and chin, until his balls were drained and he was experiencing dry, fruitless and yet incredibly pleasurable throbs...

...and yet, as his climax ebbed, Gethran's began. The dragon's immense shaft twitched hard inside Alphonse's ass, and the boy felt his bowels suddenly flood with the thick, sticky warmth of dragon-cum, until more spurts forced the thick ejaculate from his asshole and sent it leaking out of his hole. More dragonseed shot hard into his intestines and filled his backside to bursting, more leaked from his anus and slid down the back of his thighs and down the underside of his ballsack. He heard it- felt it- squirt from his clenched anus like a geyser, and still it poured deep into him, and then leaked out from his strained hole. He felt heat squirt deep inside his guts and beyond as his insides were filled with cum, the bizarre feeling making him whimper in pleasure. There was so much of it, far too much thick, gooey, warming dragonsperm to ever fit inside his bowels...

...and it didn't. With a feeling of sickening ecstasy, Alphonse felt dragonsperm start to pump from his guts into his belly, and then felt his stomach suddenly swell up as if a dam had been breached. Cum pumped into his belly with each twitch of the dragon's pride, until Alphonse felt like he could take no more without bursting, and even *then* more of the thick fluid was forced into his stomach. Alphonse would have wailed in despair as his belly began to distend to hold the dragoncum, but he was worried it would only please the monster more...

"Mmmmmm..." Gethran moaned, warm breath flowing across the back of Alphonse's neck and through his hair. "I could have broken your mind and twisted your memories if I'd so chosen... made you think of boys who had taken your ass and left you screaming in joy, instead of horror... but I did not. Alphonse, I want you to know that what I've done, I've done for my own pleasure. I wanted you to learn..." the mighty dragon set his foreclaws on Alphonse's chest, and pricked his bare skin gently. "I wanted you to learn that power creates a logic, a morality all its own... and everything else that follows is mere... justification."

Alphonse spoke not. His mind was too strained to form a reply. He stared at the curve of his warm, swollen belly pressed firm against Gethran's slick scales, and could only think of how impossible it was...

"All that matters..." the dragon continued languidly, his massive, spear-shaped cock throbbing deep in the human's ass as it loosed the last of its seed in anemic squirts, "All that matters, issss... that I can hold you down and *fuck* you, and you cannot throw me off. I can delve into your memories and *twist* them... and you cannot tell the difference between what has happened and what I've told you. The lich who wants to slay your friends and family-" Gethran slid his tongue into Alphonse's ear, deep enough the tickle made him sputter and laugh like a madman- "Jarval... Jarval is more powerful than you. But you can be more powerful than him; far, far more powerful... and I will show you the way. You might hate me as much as him; your heart may blacken with fury and yet... yet..."

Alphonse shuddered; he was no longer cumming, and yet something was making his muscles feel hard and tense, as though fire was pouring through them...

"...Yet..." Gethran whispered. "And yet... you can use it. Why not let it happen? Why not let the rage burn your soul to a pyre? Show Jarval, show *me* your *hate*, your *fury*... show us your rage! Or will you suffer, ever pathetic, ever silent, ever the righteous victim!? Fit only... to be a receptacle of pleasured release for your superiors..."

The dragon's words were confusing, but the feelings flowing through Alphonse were even more so. His heart was beating so fast and so hard it hurt, and the blood flowing through his veins was like lava. The dragon who was raping him, the lich who was killing his people. Sexual pleasure he'd never felt, never wanted; the feeling of his own body betraying him, the feeling of orgasm after orgasm being spent against his own belly. What was happening to him felt as distant as the stars at night, and yet he could still feel it....

...dragon -seed pouring deep into his guts, and into his belly in hot spurts; his skin stretching to hold it all...

...the feel of his muscles burning and fraying, and changing, and spreading, and growing, and spreading into magnificent trees of corded strength...

...the feel of Gethran's teeth against his neck, turning from razor-sharp pricks against his thin skin into deep, hard bites against... against skin growing thicker, more resilient, harder...

What woke him from the reverie of unearthly pleasure was the feeling of his own hands, becoming too heavy and clumsy to move easily. Alphonse's eyes were open, and yet for the first time he *saw* what was happening to his fingers...

They were larger than he'd last remembered, gray and thick, tipped with short claws that were beginning to curve sharply downward. He held his five fingers up to his eyes, and watched them twitch and grow, twitch and twist, entirely out of his control except in the most gross sense...

"W-what... what in the *hells*!? W-what is happening to me!?!" Alphonse cried out, holding his hands in front of him as his fingers twitched and twisted, growing larger by the second...

"I swore I would help you stop Jarval; I am simply fulfilling my part of the bargain. You're going to have to kill him yourself..." Gethran purred, still hilted deep inside Alphonse. Alphonse watched his claws grow, and the dragon's languid, post-coital murmur suddenly made sense to him...

...and then suddenly, the feeling of growth was everywhere, everything. It felt as though lightning was pouring into every muscle and bone he bore, but there was no pain to it, only indescribable...

"A-ah-AHHHH!" Alphonse screamed, feeling as if he was being rent apart. The pain was dull and distant, and yet he could feel immense, impossible growths ripping free from his shoulders, twisting bones and muscles as if they were made of warm taffy. It felt good. It felt right. It felt like ecstasy itself, his orgasms compressed into a second and then forced back into him through his growing, aching cock and then through his entire body a million times over. Gethran's magic, and he knew it, and he couldn't resist it...

Alponse convulsed in the warm pool of mud and dragon-cum, as he felt another surge of growth ripple down his back and erupt through his backside. Just above his hole- which was *squeezing* so hard spurts of dragon-cum pumped from it- he felt the growth burn, until he felt like his spine was being stretched outward into a... a tail?

"AHHHHHHHH-HHHHHHHH!" Alphonse screamed, feeling the *tail* pour from his body like hot wax, before solidifying into an appendage as shockingly real as his other limbs. He could feel the slick scales of Gethran's belly with the tip of the smooth, sleek limb as it thrashed about between his spread legs, barely under his control...

Gethran laughed, and after a single long exhalation began to mount him again. The thrusts came quickly now, slickened by the massive quantity of dragon-seed filling his guts and accompanied by more throbs of sickeningly strong pleasure.

Alphonse felt his tail's growth continue until he started cumming again. Tears poured from his eyes as his overstimulated cock twitched and leaked the last of his seed out onto his smooth crotch, suddenly feeling far too large and heavy between his legs. Alphonse knew what was happening. He was changing. He was being reshaped by Gethran's spell, and he couldn't stop it. His words haunted him; the very same "Yes" he'd said repeated in his mind a hundred, a thousand, a million times over as his body was reshaped and wracked by ecstasy...

Alphonse felt hot and numb as Gethran's thick wyrmhood speared his anus wide and then withdrew with sticky gushes of spent sperm. Slowly, the feeling of fullness inside his belly and guts left him, but each time Gethran mounted him his cock- hot and hard as steel being forged- twitched and throbbed fruitlessly. The raw, physical pleasure of being taken by the powerful wyrm was overwhelming; Alphonse felt ineffectual orgasms erupt in clusters, his shaft straining to ejaculate something but already spent of all he had. Instead of cumming, it felt like each twitch and throb of each fruitless, mind-searing climax was making his shaft grow longer and thicker, drawing his foreskin tight and hard, making his poor balls feel permanently clenched as they were driven up into his body...

Gethran's thrusts came quicker and harder, and the beast gave a roar that sent waves crashing along the mud. Alphonse ground his teeth together and hissed as dragon came inside him again, and all the dragoncum that had leaked from his hole was suddenly replaced in a single hot gush. Alphonse dug his fingers into the mud hard enough to steady himself, and only then noticed how long his claws had grown. Two more gushes of dragonsperm shot so hard and deep into his guts his hiss of pleasure into a choked whimper, and his short tail shuddered through the mud. Alphonse was certain that the third would burst his insides, but mercifully the dragon slid his slick cock out in a smooth motion that left the transforming human's ass feeling unbearably empty. Alphonse instinctively curled his tail up over his hole as cum leaked from it, though not as much as he'd expected. His backside and haunches felt stronger, thicker; his tailhole clenched shut and-

Gethran ejaculated hot gushes of dragonseed against his crotch and and thighs, and then up onto his throbbing cock and belly. Alphonse craned his head- his neck moved forward so far around he nearly gasped!- in time to see that his phallus was turning a dark shade of purple as it grew out into a point, before Gethran's hot cum painted it with white seed. The dragon shot more streaks of sticky semen over the underside of his short wings...

Alphonse hissed as the virile dragon's seed bathed his slick, scaly hide, trying to think something coherent. Words failed him. Thoughts failed him. Sensations poured into his mind faster and more powerful than he could comprehend; hot cum washing over his backside and dripping from his tailhole, his wings and tail and claws all *growing*, his scales *thickening*, his mouth *stretching* forward and his eyes *burning* in a way that made him want to cry even though he could not...

He hated Gethran, and yet his fury had grown to the point where the dragon alone was not a sufficient vessel for his rage. He felt hate for everything and everyone that had brought him to this moment, into this pit of mud and cum where his every breath reminded him of the black dragon's musk. The lich Jarval came to mind readily, and yet even he was not enough. Alphonse's thoughts turned to his commanders in Qualvale Fortress who had sent him alone and unarmed across the perilous stretches of the East with naught but a dagger and a coat. The cowardly fools in Silverport, who would not raise a hand even as their neighbors were slaughtered around them. The contemptible idiots who ruled Qualvale itself, the vainglorious, self-absorbed fools who had not seen Jarval the White as a threat until he was at their very throats!

Alphonse ground his sharpening teeth together as mighty paw forced him back down into the mud with a splash. He matched Gethran's smile with a sneer; Alphonse's first instinct was to lunge back at the wyrm with his newfound strength, and yet for all the growing he had done Gethran had grown larger still. "How did-" was all that Alphonse could say, before the black wyrm's maw shot forward and bit him on the neck, wrenching his head down to the ground and bringing the rest of his upper body with it.

Alphonse yelped and flapped his wings in panic as he struck the mud once more, but unlike before Gethran's teeth did not pierce the scaly exterior of his neck.

Alphonse felt the dragon's teeth leave his neck long enough for Gethran to say, "Do you understand yet? I saw something in your eyes; do you understand yet what I speak of!?"

"Yes, yes!" Alphonse hissed back, though in his heart of hearts he wanted to see Gethran lower his guard for just long enough to-

Gethran jumped atop him, slamming Alphonse deeper into the soft mud and slapping his massive wyrmhood atop the half-dragon's own spire. Alphonse felt Gethran's member slide across his spear-shaped length slowly, drawing a hiss of pleasure from the both of them. A second later, Gethran repeated the motion slightly faster, dragging his tail though the mud and smiling down at Alphonse from above.

"Do you understand yet, Alphonse?" Gethran said, pressing his weight down harder until his huge, throbbing swollen cock was pushing Alphonse's smaller wyrmhood into his bellyscales. "Power is what you choose. You can choose to cry and *suffer* while I *fuck* you-" Gethran growled, sliding his slick shaft all the way across Alphonse's length "-or... you can choose to enjoy being raped..."

Alphonse shivered as he replied; the feeling of Gethran's dragonhood sliding across his was vile and exquisite all at once. "Y-you're the only one making t-the choices! I c-chose n-nothing!"

"Indeed you did not! And you are a fool for it, but I am bound to keep my bargain nonetheless!" Gethran said, though the smile on the dragon's maw was anything but hateful.

Alphonse looked up and away from the dragon, trying to avoid looking at his macabre grin. Somehow the ceiling no longer looked quite so dark or high; Alphonse half-wondered how much his own eyes had changed...

Gethran kept sliding his member over Alphonse's own quivering shaft, picking up speed and never once looking away from the male pinned below him. Alphonse felt precum wash over his bellyscales from both of their erect dicks, the pleasure of their slimy penises rubbing together so quickly and smoothly he was starting to feel another climax build within him...

"Gethran..." Alphonse hissed, letting the wyrm's name linger on the tip of his tongue like a curse. He thought of biting his tongue, trying to stop his traitorous body from being driven to rapture yet again, and found himself stopped by the dragon's words. Why did he care about denying himself pleasure, if he could not do so at the black wyrm's expense..?

Gethran simply frotted himself against Alphonse all the faster.

Alphonse let the climax wash through his dragonhood freely, feeling the hot jets of cum erupt through his long, tapered shaft and through their pressed bellyscales. His testicles had refilled themselves and grown much larger while his sex changed, and he came and came and-

Whatever he thought of his newfound draconic virility, Gethran's orgasm put him to shame. The wyrm's orgasm struck the head of his cock with enough force it would have knocked a standing man down, but against Alphonse's wyrmhood the feeling of volcanic release merely drove his own climax higher. Dragonsperm washed over Alphonse's belly, neck and head in thick waves, and yet even before Gethran was done coating his scales in pearly white cum the dragon drew himself back and speared into Alphonse's tailhole...

Alphonse snarled as his tailhole was penetrated once more, and the warming feeling of being seeded spread through his rear. He was still cumming, spraying seed into the coating of mud-flecked white that dripped from his scales. Alphonse shook his head from side to side, trying to clear some of the thick, sticky dragonsperm from his lidless eyes and his sensitive snout. He snarled as his climax tapered and more of his own hot ejaculate splattered his muzzle. He was so *furious* he couldn't even think anything except the urge to *kill* Gethran and then do things far worse to the dragon's corpse, even as he felt more unnatural power flow into his changing body...

It was like drinking a waterfall, or warming ones-self inside a bonfire; he couldn't keep up with the storm of sensations moving through his twisting, twitching, transforming body as Gethran mated him mercilessly.

The wyrm withdrew from his tailhole and then turned him onto his belly with his forepaws. Alphonse hissed and kicked his taloned hindpaws at Gethran as the more powerful dragon pulled his tail up with his teeth, and then roared aloud as Gethran's weight came crashing down on his back. Alphonse felt the hot, thick spear of Gethran's maleness slam into his tail-hole as the dragon mounted him from above, the beast's weight forcing him onto his clumsy, clawed hands. Alphonse let lose a hiss that sounded dangerous to his own ears as Gethran's hot, slimy rod slid deep into his ass, fully hilted for the first time. His growing, reshaping body could take it painlessly if not effortlessly, and the pleasurable feeling of being mounted, taken, filled with hot, throbbing dragon-cock was all that remained...

Thrashing about in the mud, Alphonse slammed his forepaws into the pit and scraped deep furrows in the mud with his claws. He grew; his muscles burned with energy, and his fat burned to nothingness, and still he grew taller and wider and heavier and thicker and... different. He felt his tongue sizzle slightly as it grew, as though a cloud of cinders had settled upon it and never left. The vestigial membranes between his wingbones grew into a thick curtain of scales that dragged the thick, humid air of Gethran's lair about and then began to capture it. His tail, flagged helplessly or flailing aimlessly, began to slap against the mud hard enough to send showers of muck into the air whenever he whipped it about. His legs cracked as they bent into hindpaws, and yet the *strength* in them made him feel as though he could almost- *almost*- throw Gethran away...

"GETHRAN!" Alphonse roared, white-hot hate boiling in his veins. "I WILL DESTROY YOU!"

"Will you *really* attempt something so rash? What makes you think you could ever succeed in such a task?" Gethran laughed

"DIE!" Alphonse screamed.

He tried to throw the dragon off his back, in a burst of fury. Of course, he could not; the other dragon's claws were latched firmly onto the base of his wings, holding him tight in place. He saw his hands grow and twist into clumsy forepaws, he felt his skin turn to armored scales, and he burned with fury as draconic strength made his muscles swell and tense. As Alphonse grew larger and stronger still, their mating grew fierce and frenetic, each desperate act of rebellion the elder wyrm crushed stoking the flames of rage and hate and fury in his heart until an unnaturally cold calm overwhelmed Alphonse...

"Yessss..." Gethran hissed, as Alphonse ceased his struggles and began to accept the other dragon's dominance with his fury held in check. "Good... you *can* accept submission to your ssssuperiors..."

"Why..?" Alphonse rasped, feeling his maleness throb in tune with the slick thrusts spreading his tailhole and filling his rear with dragoncock.

"Because I wanted to. And because it is not love and compassion that will give you the strength to destroy your enemies; it is hate and fury."

Alphonse laid his head into the warm mud and, with a tremendous mental effort, spread his hindlegs apart and raised his tail. Gethran gave a pleasured hiss, and hilted him deeper; Alphonse shivered in pleasure, and held his anger in check as his tailhole was well and truly taken by the larger male.

Gethran fucked him again, and again, and again as he continued to change and grow. Each time the wyrm came into him or onto his cock or muzzle, Alphonse climaxed himself. It felt as though hours passed while he laid shuddering in the mud, transfixed by inhuman pleasure and the rhythm of the beast's savage mounting. He felt his feet turned to hindpaws and his legs spread apart as his tail grew massively thick and powerful. Alphonse felt his teeth sharpen and his ears and nose melt away; he felt saw scales taken on the shadowed sheen of Gethran's hide and felt his ears shrink to nothingless. His muzzle grew out before his very eyes, and tongue grew long and dripped with slime. He could feel it happening, feel every inch of every pound of every new muscle he grew... and yet he was powerless, utterly powerless to move and stop it from happening. It was like being frozen in a portrait-painting, seeing in his mind's eye what was happening, knowing what was wrought, knowing with certitude that the conclusion was foregone.

It was exhausting, and energizing, and clarifying, and confusing all at once. At some point their mating had ceased, though Gethran was still inside his tailhole and had not yet let Alphonse roll away to lick his wounds and clean his scales with mud. Alphonse wasn't sure who he was, or what was real, or what he was supposed to do by the time the wyrm had worked his black magic. His own mind felt cold and alien, yet inestimably quick and focused. All he knew for sure was that he felt cold fury in his heart... something more, far more than human anger.

It felt like it would be such a *waste* to expend all his hate and anger on Gethran, simply because he made the most convenient target.

"Alphonse."

The word woke him from his reverie. Word? No... his name.

"Alphonse... you've been changed by my magic... you know this, yes?" Gethran said, his smile long since gone.

"Yes, Gethran..." Alponse hissed, letting the word roll off his tongue. "How could I forget?"

"And you would be surprised what magic can do to a weak mind, even if the mind is not its intended target." Gethran said.

Alphonse nodded his muzzle as he felt the mighty dragon pull out of his tail-hole, submitting to the superior male though instinct. A final spurt of seed graced his under-tail and sore tailhole; Alphonse let the sticky emissions linger there as he rose to his own paws for the first time.

Maneuvering on all fours came to him with unnatural ease. Alphonse knew that his form was not quite complete- his talons strained to grow larger, his eyes burned into the veil occluding reality- but the strange calm he felt earlier had grown deep into his mind. "I know, my ssssire... I know what you have done..." he said. The words came to him unbidden, and he felt as though he was speaking the truth even though a quiet voice in the back of his mind told him he was *not* who he thought he was, that everything was horribly wrong, that he'd been-

"Excellent." Gethran said. "Though you have much, so very much to learn... pity there is no time to teach you yet. We must take flight *now*, if I am to keep my word... and you are to keep yours."

"Where to?" Alphonse asked, though the look of vicious mirth the dragon's pale eyes told him the answer before it was spoken.

"We fly to Qualvale." Gethran said. "It is time, young messenger, that you bring a message to Jarval the White."

Qualvale. The word was barely meaningful to Alphonse, though the black wyrm felt the smile upon his muzzle deepen at the word. He could sense something was about to happen, though he wasn't sure what-

"...But first... I have something to for you, my dear Alphonse..." Gethran said. "A gift..."

Alphonse sensed something *wrong* inside the black wyrm's eyes before he ever felt the shock of something being poured into his mind. Something that felt like electrified lava, something that made his head hurt and his claws ache and his blood boil and-

He recognized it was magic only when the pain scourged his thoughts of fear. It hurt to have it forced into his mind, but as it settled in his soul it felt so horribly, horribly good. Alphonse felt something screaming at him in a distant, tinny voice, but it was nothing like the tingle of euphoric pleasure coming from his throbbing, spent dragonhood, nor the heady rush of fury coursing through his tensed wings and forepaws, knowing what he could do with his very will...

**** ****

The mood inside the command tent was grim.

Field Marshall Kentan spoke first. "Any word yet from Silverport? The dwarves?"

"None, sir." The soldier replied. "I think our messengers may not have made it back. Gregor and Alphonse have been missing for weeks, and..."

"And we're out of fucking supplies!" Quartermaster Declan shouted, throwing his heavy hands upon the table with enough force to shake it. "There ain't no two ways around it; I'm havin' me men make stew from damned voles an'-"

"Language, Mr. Declan." The Field Marshall said. "But duly noted. And what of mages of the Silver Tower?"

The cowled magus sitting across from him shook her head. "They have not deigned to intervene. The High Magus said that..."

"Whatever he said I doubt greatly I will like hearing it." Marshall Kentan said, turning finally to his commander. "Commander Marke; any miracles to report on our gates?"

Commander Marke shook her head. "Morale is low. We're running low on arrows and all our ballistae and cannons have been destroyed. Most of our units are down to half-strength at best, ignoring the sick and wounded. Thousands of the living dead..."

Suddenly, a breathless soldier burst into the command tent. "Dragon! Dragon!" he shouted.

The assembled commanders stood up from the table at once, making for the tent flap.

"Fabulous," the Field Marshall quipped, drying rubbing his forehead and remaining seated. "A dragon is attacking. I wonder if a gate to the Hells will open next, or mayhap a meteor will fall upon our heads..."

"It... it ain't attacking the walls! It's just circling overhead, above the enemy camp!" the soldier clarified.

Field Marshall Kentan raised an eyebrow and rose from his chair. "Oh really..?"

**** ****

From eight thousand feet, the battlefield below was like a grim watercolor. Puffs of smoke, flashes of magical energy and the slow march of troops below drew Alphonse's eyes. He took it in slowly, from the trenches and earth-works that protected the besieging army to the cracked, crumbling walls of Qualvale fortress. It felt unreal to see the sprawl laid out so far below, still less real to feel the cold air underneath his wings. Despite it all, he felt nothing but unnatural calm.

'It is time, young messenger, that you bring a message to Jarval the White..." Gethran said, flying far above. He was like a ghost in the stormy skies.

Gethran's words echoed in his mind like thunder, but the feeling of *wrongness* was something Alphonse could not shake. It was not merely the stormclouds in the air around him, driving lightning and rain into the ground. It was not just the feel of water sliding off his slick scales as if it had never touched him at all, nor the feel of his tail whipping behind him in the furious winds, or his wings beating the sky downward to keep his immense bulk aloft. No; what was truly driving his mind to madness was knowing that he was not supposed to be a dragon, and yet everything he felt told him he was...

"...a message that your enemies will never forget..." Gethran continued, his voice reverberating through the skies.

That sounded right; that *felt* right...

Alphonse smiled. His mind felt as though it was ablaze; he could sense the awesome magical energies coursing through his very soul, vastly more potent than any thrill or drug his human body had ever felt, ever *dreamt* of feeling. He knew what message he would bring to Jarval and his unholy army, what he would show the creature that led an army of unthinking abominations...

"...show them doom!" Gethran finished.

Alphonse loosed a mighty roar with all his lungs could hold, before tucking his wings close and plummeting down towards the earth like a living missile. The air felt thick and hot as he screamed through it and the battlefield below rushed towards him, and yet for all the fury he felt in his heart, his mind was calmed by the... inevitability... of what would come to pass.

Time seemed to slow as the last few hundred feet of air disappeared, and Alphonse spread his wings open with a mighty snap to slow his landing. He'd chosen a spot directly between the gate of Qualvale fortress and the main force of massed undead.

For a moment, an unearthly calm descended upon the battlefield. Neither the archers and paladins arrayed along the walls of the battered fortress nor the undead moved.

Alphonse laughed madly and then reached deep into the reservoir of arcane power Gethran had bestowed upon him, and began to work his doom.

The words, the motions, the rush of directed power came to him as easily as a thought. Alphonse held the tension between reality and possibility within his claws, and then sent it echoing outwards towards the massed ranks of Jarval's unliving army. The energy coalesced into a wave of green-lit energy that shot through the ranks of the undead in an instant. For one moment, nothing happened...

But in the next, the bodied unliving that formed the bulk of Jarval's army roared in unearthly pain, while their bones burst apart from within their moldering forms. The cacophonous sound of dried bones cracking and exploding echoed over the battlefield, accompanied by the equally hellish sound of bone fragments striking steel helmets and swords or being shot into the dirt with force sufficient to bury them. The skeletal dead were broken into little more than dust, while zombies and ghouls left behind rotting piles of gore and decayed muscle as their exploding bones rent them apart from the inside out...

A tremendous cheer came up from Qualvale fortress, and suddenly a storm of arrows and crossbow bolts shot forth to strike the undead who'd survived Alphonse's rage. Alphonse heard the fortress gate slam open, and felt a few stray arrows crack painlessly against his slick hide, but he ignored both distractions and began to walk towards the back ranks of Jarvals army, through the gory devastation he had just wrought.

The counterattack by the deathless army came swiftly and without hesitation. Ghosts and specters unharmed by his assault rose up from the ground and threw themselves at him, but Alphonse calmly snatched the first few assailants between his teeth and claws and rent them apart, ignoring the feeble attempts to drain his life from the few spirits who retained existence long enough to strike him. Arrows made from sharpened bone and infused with negative energy bounced off his scales. Skeletal knights atop putrefied mounts charged towards him, and he swatted them aside and crushed them with his claws...

The soldiers of Qualvale were attacking with reckless abandon, but the undead did not yield. Alphonse bathed his scales in a shield of fire and walked straight through the middle of the undead army, stopping only when he saw the lich cowering behind a small group of his still-living disciples. They were frantically trying to raise more undead from the Qualvale soldiers who'd been slain in recent days, but it seemed a move born of utter desperation. The ranks of the unliving had been devastated, and Alphonse noticed that his battle had been joined by the vengeful forces now pouring out from Qualvale Fortress. Some of the men and women died quickly as spells of black-lit fire shot into them, cast by Jarval and his living followers...

The dragon began to laugh as he saw Jarval turn towards him, uncovering his alabaster skull from behind its cowl. The lich raised one bony finger and cast a death-spell towards him...

Alphonse felt a numb chill echo though his soul as Jarval's spell struck his scales. He'd seen countless men fall before Jarval, but the negative energy washing through his body felt like little more than a deep chill compared to the fires of rage burning in his heart. The arrogance of the lich! Thinking himself master of life and death, of all he could clench between his bony fingers! Thinking he could take everything away from others by right of his insignificant powers!

Necromancers drew around Jarval in a tight ring, joining their magics to his. Alphonse felt spheres of fire and bolts of negative energy thud against his hide, but the pain was nothing compared to the mind-searing fury driving him inexorably towards the mages. He would show them death.

'Momento Mori...' Alphonse raged, pouring his thirst for revenge into the wordless spell known as the killing-thought. 'Die!'

A necromancer raising a staff made from femur bones suddenly gasped and shuddered, and in a split-second of utter terror his heart seized and beat no more.

'Die. Die, die, die! DIE!' the wyrm thought, grinding his sharp teeth together as he let his hate and fury flow freely into the silent spellweaving. One by one, the black-robed figured surrounding Jarval fell lifeless to their ground, often before they even had a chance to cry out.

What remained of Jarval's guard fled in a blind panic. Alphonse leapt into the sky just high enough to fly, beating his wings with such force he felt the tips of his wings dig furrows into the wet ground. He landed forty feet in front of Jarval, and made up the distance in the blink of an eye, feeling his fury turn cold, and then turn into an emotion somewhere between ecstasy and rage that no human could truly feel.

"G-G- Gethanrikisithaz!?!" the lich hissed, falling backwards as his robe tangled on the rib bones of a shattered skeleton. "B-but you were killed by- no! I was planning to come back for you, I swear! Mercy! M-"

Alphonse roared again as he pounced upon the fleeing lich, crushing the frail creature beneath his forepaws. The undead magi tried to hiss a curse, but Alphonse snapped his head forward and cracked Jarval's skull between his jaws.

Then, Alphonse saw something that made him grin.

He hadn't believed his own sight for a moment, when he saw the ebb and flow of necromantic magic within Jarval's ribcage. The lich kept his phylactery with him; his own ossified, ensorcelled heart! What utter, insipid foolishness! He tore the phylactery from the lich's body and squeezed it between his claws until it shattered.

Alphonse opened his maw, and let the shattered bone of Jarval's skull pour out as it turned to ash. He allowed himself a smile, and then a victory roar.

Blood-lust still raging, Alphonse took but a moment to savor Jarval's second death, before tracking the retreat of his scattered forces. Spotting the largest cluster of fleeing necromancers and grave knights off in the distance, he sucked in a deep breath and then shot its neck forward, spewing a gout of pale green fire from his maw that coalesced into a brilliant, glowing meteor of green-black energy. The blast screamed through the air like a wailing banshee, and exploded in the ranks of the massed living and dead with a silent but blinding flash. The shadows of the living and dead were seared into the ground as the grass above it was blasted to dust, though the blast left no crater nor gave off any heat.

Few necromancers were left to command the undead army now; the living dead left were moving in confused jerks. There was more magic he could call upon; unholy fire from the hell of Gehenna, bolts of transplanar energy that would rend both the bodies and spirits of the undead, invocations that could call down meteors from above or make the earth boil and erupt from below... but Alphonse felt no need to hurry. He obliterated the last of Jarvals lieutenants with his teeth and claws, and then methodically crushed the mindless, still undead while the gathered forces of Qualvale kept uneasy watch. Their cheers slackened in vigor as they watched the dragon go about his grim work. Alphonse never once acknowledged them.

When the last of the undead was destroyed- a sad, skeletal thing that had one arm still attached and no weapon save the other- Alphonse began to lick away the gore caked around his maw and turned to face the ragged remnants of the once-proud Qualvale army. Dragon regarded the men and women with cruel, unblinking eyes, as a great stillness descended upon the battlefield.

Alphonse looked at the soldiers of Qualvale- all his countrymen, some his friends- and felt... nothing.

He had saved them- somehow that was still important- and yet it was hard for him not to feel... disgust. Contempt. He could have easily won if they'd stayed inside the fortress; all they'd done by charging out was to add more of their own lives to to the toll exacted.

Alphonse scanned the dead ground where the battle had been fought. He looked at the bodies of the soldiers slain by the undead army; dozens who had died for no reason. Idiots. Alphonse forced the sneer from his muzzle, but he couldn't shake the thought. He couldn't help it; it was all so *damned* obvious! Jarval had been a threat for months and he'd been ignored. Hoped away. Called a myth. Even as their friends and neighbors died in the night, even as the lich had raised graveyards and turned slaughtered towns into restlessless dead, they hid behind their fortress and *pled* for help like children.

The fact that it had *worked* made Alphonse's blood boil.

They were staring at him, knights and archerers and commanders alike, agog and mute. Alphonse knew he was going to have to pay a terrible price for Gethran's aid, and these stupid, oblivious fools would simply go on living their lives. It wasn't right, not in the slightest.

"Foolish, stupid, self-pitying humans; they will never learn." Gethran said.

Alphonse smiled bitterly; though Alphonse could not see the wyrm, Gethran's voice was as clear as if he'd been whispering into his earhole. "It issss the human way, my sire." he said.

"Indeed, indeed..." Gethran said. "Indeed it is. Maybe they shall build a statue in your honor, or grant you some other token of their gratitude..."

"Hah!" Alphonse said. He whipped his tail to the side, and slowly walked towards the nearest cluster of soldiers. They backed away from him slowly, with terrified, confounded looks in their eyes. "I care not what they do and I care even less what they think. You have granted my wish, and I am prepared to pay the price you demand, Gethran."

"Oh, but you already have, Alphonse! You already have!" Gethran said, laughing uproariously. "The power I granted and the price I exacted were one in the very same! Your body and your mind, though remade to be a more proper vessel for my power..."

"I... sire, I do not understand! Is thisss alteration permanent?" Alphonse hissed back, turning swiftly to see if Gethran was behind him. He looked up into the sky and tried to find Gethran among the roiling black clouds, though his enchanted vision could make out nothing living or dead in the skies. "Sire..?"

"It is a good thing you did not have the foolish courage to run away when you first saw me! I simply did not have the strength to invoke the ritual outside of Van Dük's tomb; that was the only place of power I could draw upon. My old master's final resting place..."

"We were in Van Dük's Tomb!?! But you said... we..." Alphonse gasped, turning around wildly and trying to track the wyrm's voice. It seemed to come from both everywhere and nowhere around him. "Gethran, I don't understand!?"

Gethran's laugh was a terrible thing, resonating in Alphonse's mind. "All will be made clear in time! Come now; we should return to the tomb and rest. Annihilating that army took quite a lot out of us, yes? And we need to gather our strength. Tomorrow, we have big plans to start upon; very big plans indeed..."

"Where are you!?" Alphonse roared. "Show yourself!"

The dragon replied with a voice perfectly even, and yet utterly vicious. "Look down..."

Alphonse did. He found himself staring into a mud-flecked shield made of reflective, polished silver. In it, he finally saw in the glowing eyes, the shadowed scales, and the flesh-tearing teeth of Gethanrikisithaz again.

Alphonse watched his muzzle twist into a smile against his will, and forced it away after a horrified moment of realization. "Body, mind and soul, Alphonse..." Gethran's voice hissed, from deep inside Alphonse's skull . "In you, I am reborn!"

****

"...we know not why the dragon attacked Jarval's army. Perhaps Jarval had stolen something from it, or wounded the beast's pride. It... it moved like shadowed lightning, and smote the undead with magics the battlemages say were impossible. The High Magus fainted, and..." the scout paused to take a deep breath. "...and when she woke up she was screamin' her head off and cryin' and... i don't know, sir, sayin' things that made no sense t'me ears. But the necromancers are gone, dead to the last damned man. The dead are no more."

Field Marshall Kentan took a slow sip of his tea. It took quite a lot of willpower to keep his fingers from shaking. "And then what did it do?"

The scout shook his head. "It... it was talkin' to itself for a while. And... and then it seemed to just go crazy, caterwaulin' and roarin' and throwin' itself t'the ground, and then it flew off..."

"Any idea what it was saying?" the Field Marshall asked.

"Not a clue, Field Marshall. Paladin's say it was speakin' the tongue of the dragon. Sir Mancy thought he recognized a word or two, but none of the men speak the language or understand it..."

"Well." Field Marshall Kentan said, taking another sip of his tea. "Well isn't *this* a fine mystery. You are dismissed."

The scout saluted sharply, and began to walk away from the command tent.

Field Marshall Kentan sipped his tea until the cup was empty, and then kept mechanically bringing the cup to his lips long after it was gone.