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“Despair is a curse."

The Manticore was cackling, her maniacal laughter ringing out loudly in the labyrinthine complex of the Jade Palace East Wing. She'd a sound akin to the villainess of a terrible mid-nineties television show that had finally brought a band of plucky teenage heroes to their knees and was now revelling in her well-earned victory. Flames engulfed her body, burning away the few remaining scraps of that hated ceremonial dress, and she lowered herself into a familiar fighting stance, her tail arched high over her back and loaded with the projectile bone spikes iconic of her species.

Corridors wound in all directions, this abandoned region of the royal demesne the largest, and they'd battled through several rooms of opponents already. Guardians summoned by the Conjuration Magic of the Slothful Prince barred their path, amalgamations of armour and shadow pressed into humanoid form and imbued with just enough of a sense of consciousness to wield their weapons. They were configured as knights, samurai, barbarians, and a whole variety of combinations with weapons ranging from knives to axes to katana. Despite their construct nature, they came to pieces when struck with the same sorts of injuries that would be fatal to a person, blasting away the helm or caving in the chestplate more than sufficient to destroy each target, leaving behind only a scattering of metal scraps.

“Today is the best fucking day ever! Wahoo!" Kali propelled herself into their ranks by means of an explosion potent enough to shatter the marble flooring, the force of her flying elbow decapitating the foe menacing her. Surrounded by a half dozen armours, she intoned the unknowable language of the Moon God and centred a second detonation on herself, a blast that threw them all into the surrounding walls.

Raphael grit his teeth as the burden of Wrath was shared between them in the wake of her spell, “Mind your Sin!" He called out, and turned the point of his rapier towards his own share of their enemies. The Beastlord was much more conservative with his usage of Magic, his silver sword imbued with a crackling blue energy, the blade glowing softly. A thrust had his thunderous smite eradicate his advancing enemy in a great shockwave boom, a sweep and fleche sending him past a second opponent with a tap to their leading shoulder and another expulsion of power.

He couldn't help his own slight smile, the nature of this projection of Evocation Magic with his weapon as a conduit making the dispatching of these animated armours not dissimilar to scoring points on the piste. And the fact that it made it look a little like he was wielding a lightsabre invoked a fanboyish joy, “This is for the terrible sequels!" He swung his weapon, discharging a little of the Wrath that Kali had forced him to shoulder, “And all of those awful spinoff series!"

“Yeah! What he fucking said!" Kali had no idea what her Master was on about, but he often said some rather strange things, and it was more fun to go along with him than not. The joy of venting her aggression side by side with the man she loved was overwhelming, the excitement in her chest doing much to suppress the Wrath of prolonged use of Evocation Magic. A well-aimed bone spike launched from her tail whistled over Raphael's shoulder and pinned his last opponent to the wall where they struggled for a moment before collapsing into pieces. 'Kill-stealing' he called it, and she quite enjoyed annoying him with it, the Manticore keeping a mental count of precisely how far ahead she was in a contest her Master wasn't even aware he was taking part in.

The room cleared, they paused to rest and survey the devastation of their battle, the marble shattered, drapery torn, furniture rendered into splinters, and no small amount of burn marks. Raphael sighed, “The whole reason that the Emperor didn't do this himself was because he knew that Evocation Magic would wreck half of the Jade Palace on the way to his son. Now here we are destroying everything anyway…"

Kali scoffed, “Fuck that jackass. Who cares if we ain't careful? I'm having so much fucking fun!" She glanced to him, and her expression softened a small amount, “You still worried about her?"

Raphael shook his head, “Hideki and Hiroyuki will find Moiral and stop her. Whatever it is she's doing. I trust them to bring her back to me." Granted this moment of respite, he lowered himself into a crouch to catch his breath, lightly fatigued from the effort of fighting in his armour despite the heightened physical attributes granted to him by [Tame]. He set his jaw, “Fuck. I was such an idiot to leave her on her own. I should have woken her up and pressed her for her plan. It's all my fault…"

“Pfft." The Manticore thumped his shoulder, just lightly enough to not be subdued by [Tame], “Don't be such a gaylord, Master. Find the Prince. Fuck the Prince. Grab Moiral. Beat up the Emperor. Celebration orgy. Right?"

He snorted, half amused that she could parse this nonsense world so simply, and half annoyed that he couldn't dispute that she was somewhat right. He was going to take possession of Prince Sirrush, install him as the next Emperor, and he only hoped that the loose end of Moiral wasn't going to endanger that… or anyone else. Raphael brought his hands to his cheeks and slapped them lightly, standing back up with a small grunt, “You're right." And with a smirk, “Come on you fucking dyke! Which way to the next group of bad guys?"

Uproarious laughter followed, “This way, Master! We'll get you back to breeding your bitches and slamming your faggots in no time!" And a slight tilt of the head, “And what the fuck are 'the sequels' anyway?"

It was a question she wished that she hadn't asked. Though, the venting of Raphael lasted long enough to dispel the incurred Wrath of three whole encounters! It was after these that they again found a moment to take a break, and now Kali as well found that her body had come to be streaked with sweat, the bone projectiles of her tail slower and slower to regenerate as fatigue began to set in. They seemed no closer to locating their target, the most obvious location of the bedchamber proving to be empty, they now battled towards the lounges.

Raphael exhaled forcefully and regulated his breathing, “If he's not in the lounges, then we're withdrawing. There are too many enemies, and the frustration of all of these dead ends will just make our Wrath burden worse."

“I'm fucking fine, Master!" Kali scoffed, “I can beat another hundred of these armour cunts! No, another thousand! Bring it on! I'll waste them all!"

“Mind your Sin." It was a warning that he'd had to repeat often. Magic was wrought of the Moon God's power, and she charged for it the sensation of Wrath. Too much, and they risked being consumed by their own Magic and becoming Fiends themselves, mindless creatures surrendered to Sin. Sharing a pool between Master and Pet did much to alleviate this, with much higher thresholds available to them, but there was still risk involved, and these small rest periods were vital to keep their power under control.

The Manticore groaned in response to his warning but didn't complain. Instead, she looked to one meandering pathway, “I think it's that way."

“But the lounges are to the other side." Not one to ignore a hunch, he queried, “Why?"

“It's the place with the most enemies." It was a simple answer, at least. And sufficient to earn a nod from her Master and affirmation that they would indeed take that path. It was a pity that they couldn't be joined by the Harengon Ninja and Zoroark Illusionist as planned to make a full Party, but Raphael was thankful indeed to have Kali with him at least. Despite his month of training, live melee combat was quite different to any sport, and while he had the techniques, he lacked experience. His Manticore gave him the margin of error needed to acclimatise himself to battle, and he was grateful for it.

He was grateful for her hunch as well.

Their foes came in disorderly waves, but the sheer number of them was nearly overwhelming. No single Mage would be able to battle through without losing to their own Sin, to the extent that simply nuking this entire wing of the Jade Palace looked to be quite a reasonable solution after all. Three foes, then five, seven foes, then ten. While not difficult to defeat individually, the fatigue of protracted battle was setting in, and even the former Black Fiend of the North had amassed some injuries.

Raphael drew himself to her flank, the explosive force of his weapon swept into his opponent, a fleche to the right of his next foe allowing him to follow through and place his free hand on her shoulder. An intoned spell drew out his newly acquired Necromancy Magic, a pool shared with Moiral, and he felt the dull hunger of Gluttony settle in his stomach as Kali's wounds healed over. At least it confirmed that his connection to the Dragoness was still active.

“Either they're getting stronger, or we're getting fucking weaker!" The Manticore leapt forward, sinking her fist into another breastplate with a resounding clang, the blast of her Evocation Magic an explosion of flame that tore the armour to pieces, “I gotta hit these cunts real hard to knock them apart now! Fuck – we gotta be close, right Master!?"

The sweeping blade of an axe caught the quillons of his rapier, and tore the weapon from Raphael's grasp, the man now forced to confront two foes unarmed. He snarled, channelling his accumulated Wrath, the adrenaline of battle, and put up his fists. But before he could engage them, a whole salvo of bone spikes struck forth, “Get the fuck away from my Master you tin shit-cunts!"

They'd fought their way into a large room, the space having the appearance of some sort of workshop. Metal shafts opened up overhead to provide ventilation to the windowless chamber, benches lines the walls topped with neatly arranged tools, and in the flames of Kali's Evocation Magic, a figure was at last revealed. Their head laid to rest upon the desk, their arm a pillow, here surrounded by an armada of metal warriors was a Western Dragon, humanoid in form as his sister, with scales of deepest jade, and clad in robes of black and gold.

“That's him!" Raphael retrieved his weapon from the ground, but they now faced a wall of dozens of enemies, their ranked advance forcing the pair to step back towards the entrance and corridor from which they had emerged. He maintained the threat of his point, though that sort of swordsmanship was of limited effect against opponents which had no sense of self-preservation, “I need to get closer to [Tame] him!"

Kali broke out into a wide smile, despite this brief break in combat forcing them to confront an insurmountable wall of living armours. She raised her fist, “Use that move that Dia hates! The one with the dumb name!" That didn't exactly narrow it down. Raphael had stolen a great many techniques from a great many intellectual properties, taking his que from the [Creation] user. He replicated these powers from anime, games, and popular culture, by using the Magic available to him and (if a little embarrassing) found the results to speak for themselves. Clarification came as he hesitated, “Kammy-hammy-whatever!"

The Saint took a breath, stepped back, and sighed. The situation couldn't be more serious. Moiral was gone, with enough Dracite to wreak all sorts of havoc. Sirrush was out of range of [Tame]. There were so many foes ahead that to advance further would be to risk their lives, and even in retreat they may be pursued and cut down. The Emperor remained a threat, and the entire Monster Harem was in peril. But, he found that he couldn't help but smile. In his heart, he was an unrepentant geek, “You were right, Kali. Today is the best day ever."

Of course, he struck the pose. Of course, he screamed out the name of it. Raphael intoned his spell, invoked the power of Evocation Magic to channel heat and light, radiance and fire, into a beam reminiscent of that famed technique. While not true to the mechanics, it certainly was to appearance and potency.

“KAME-HAME-HA!"

The backlash of Wrath washed over him, potent enough to draw a roar of fury from his lips, but the great beam of blinding azure was sufficient to carve through the wall of living armour, piercing through the blockade and narrowly missing Prince Sirrush as it passed through the room and blew out the side of the building. Raphael advanced into the gap without hesitation, throwing himself into the range of his Apex Ability, “[Tame]!" And every armour ceased to function.

Kali grabbed the nearest living armour and tore it in half with her bare paws, the leather straps holding it together snapping under the force of unreasonable Manticore strength. But she laughed as she vented her anger, knowing that they had won. As for Raphael, something else now competed with the burden of his Wrath. The Sloth of the Prince washed over him, his body leaden with fatigue as he shouldered a portion of their Sin. He staggered forward, then fell to his knees, “Fuck…"

The world blurred, and he blinked, fighting to retain consciousness. Everything felt like effort, not only moving his body, but thinking, willing, every ambition dulled. To pull himself together was a titanic ordeal, and he staggered towards the sleeping Dragon. Kali joined him, still panting with her own Sin, “Fuck, is this the faggot we came all this way for? How the fuck is he gonna choose you if he's fucking asleep!? Let's kick his ass until he wakes up!"

But Raphael shook his head, “No…" He sagged against the same bench, “Fuck… I know what I need to do… I had something prepared from the start… It's why I've been practicing with Bravura…" He looked to his companion, surrounded by the off-putting sight of dozens of immobile foes, “I'm going to use Enchantment Magic to invade his Dream." He huffed, “If I fuck up, get out of here."

“No." She shrugged, “If you fuck up, I'm gonna die fighting like a bad bitch. I want you to go in there knowing that, Master." The Manticore took a seat on the bench alongside him, “You're a fucking cunt for even saying it. I'm gonna kick your ass later for giving such a stupid order!"

“Of course…" He blinked several times and willed himself into lucidity. What a foolish thing to have said. Now he'd made Kali worried! His hands slapped to his cheeks, “Okay… Okay, I'm fine. I've got it. Fuck, it just washes over you. The fatigue is like being the worst kind of drunk." The world was returning to clarity, and he mastered the new Sin to the extent that he could be functional, “I'll be back soon, Kali. Wait here for me…"

The Beastlord placed his hand against the cheek of this sleeping Dragon, his fingers trailing against soft scales. He'd some experience riding as the passenger of Bravura's memories, but this was different. The somnolence of Sloth threatened the clarity of consciousness that he'd fought so hard to claw back, but the burgeoning Lust which came with the intonation of his Enchantment Magic did much to combat it. He attuned himself to his newest Pet, and fought to bring them under his control, willing Sirrush to abandon his resistance to this mental invasion, “[Surrender]." And he was there, inside their mind, in another world.

A stern updraft drove Raphael back from the edge of a cliff, the great gust of wind staggering the armoured knight as he came to his senses. He looked beyond the edge to a blurred sky, the horizon like that of a watercolour painting, and the whole world around him strangely abstract, with very little within his sight defined with the sharpness of reality. The mountainous landscape of the East Island spread below him, browns and greens smudged together up to the borders of the ocean, every inch of the environment nothing but the half-realised peripheral of a mind not paying attention.

And rightly so. For this was a dream, after all.

He shared the mountaintop aerie with the dreamer, this nest more suitable to feral Dragons occupying the peak which in the real world was taken up by the Jade Palace. Broken stones, jagged and pointed, formed the rim, like an enormous crown, and Raphael recognised the image from a painting inside the guest quarters, a vision of the distant past. At its heart, the green dragon surveyed him carefully, looking far more imposing in wakefulness.

Sirrush had the appearance of a strong and proud man, his eyes sharp, his body sculpted, and his wings draped over his shoulders partially unfurled as if they were a cape. The Western Dragon was clad in the same black and gold robes as his true self, though he adorned himself with no trinkets. He set his fingers to his chin to survey the new arrival, seeming to ponder them with excruciating care, and then spoke, “You've wasted your time, Saint." His voice rang out in the dreamscape, clear despite the height, the wind, the space, “I refuse your Devil's Bargain. I will not submit to you." And then a slow sigh, almost mournful, as he presented a choice which he clearly felt to not be a choice at all, “Which leaves you with the options of joining me in the eternal dream or slaying me in the real world. What shall it be?"

The Beastlord smiled disarmingly, “Well, hello to you as well." Though, his expression was unsure, Raphael caught a little off-guard by how informed the Dragon had been in their greeting, “Neither, of course. Though I'm amazed you managed to put so much together based on nothing but me being here."

Sirrush tapped his foot, looking annoyed at the counter observation, “It's obvious, is it not? No Moon God Magic or Sun God Skill could restore my sanity and make the dream lucid, so this must be a World God Ability, making you a Saint. I sense a link between us, a sharing of the Sin which still grows, and so am conscious of your peril – thus can extrapolate that you must have of me surrender to your power or die." Those sharp eyes, so unsuited to the sin of Sloth, never left his, “And regarding motive, your intent is undoubtedly to install me as Emperor, though ultimately, I would answer to you, a Knight of the Trinity Theocracy by your insignia. Am I far from the mark?"

This felt like a meeting he was somewhat underprepared for despite the insights he'd been gifted with by the Harengon. But Raphael did his best, “Not too far, I must admit. Though I'm mostly here because Hideki made me promise to save you. I'm actually quite rubbish at politics, even with Raine's help…" He put his hand behind his head, “At first, I thought of everything else as just the baggage of that Oath. The Emperor will hardly let me just walk out with you. Especially after I already took his daughter. But I've come to realise that I can't look away from the evil of your father. I know that you want to challenge him, and I want to support you."

Those sharp eyes narrowed, “You have taken my sister for your Pet already? She too is subject to your [Tame]? I am amazed that father would surrender his most loyal and efficient pawn."

“He actually gave her to me. At the cost of a promise that I would not use [Tame] against the Empire." The Saint clapped his hands together once, looking quite joyful, “And she's less loyal and efficient than you might think. She's been disappearing her 'victims' to the mainland the whole time. The villain persona is just something that she puts on to fool everyone into hating her." And then a smile, as he spotted in the Prince an expression of surprise, “Ah, but you didn't know that, did you? I get it now. You're the type that knows enough about the mechanics of reality to figure out I'm a Saint the second that I entered your dream, but you can't read a heart for shit, can you?"

There was a long period of silence, one which Sirrush allowed to linger for its awkwardness. He looked again to be evaluating the interloper, trying to determine if the insight into him had been genuine, or perhaps some rider of the Apex Ability binding the two males together. In the end, he took a slow breath, “I'm told that I have a mind like a Viper. People are… confusing. Illogical. It's not a flaw worth making an effort to hide. So, I freely admit it."

Raphael maintained his casual tone, “You're hardly a cold-hearted man, though. From what I hear, you tour around the East Island, village to village, practically putting yourself into a coma every time you use your Conjuration to help the people." He took a step closer, “They've all got high hopes for you."

That earned a scowl in response, “A Dragon cannot control what he chooses to be his Hoard. Would they think of me so kindly if I called them possessions of mine? Father is only interested in gemstones. The people that he discarded became my focus. It's that simple. I'm not a good man. I'm just cultivating what I own into something better."

“Inheriting a nation and doing your utmost to make it better sounds like a good man to me. Doesn't matter much if you call it your Hoard. In this nonsense world, a monarch owns everything anyway." Raphael huffed, shaking his head, “You're just like your sister. Why are Dragons so dramatic? You're all so keen to play the villain. It's ridiculous."

In addition to the tapping foot, his tail also began to thrum an impatient beat, “Then I'll contest you with logic. There's no point in me becoming Emperor. The throat of this country was cut a thousand years ago, and the last of the blood will soon drain. There's no point to anything anymore…"

“That's the Sloth talking. You know that it erodes your will. Don't let it win."

Sloth seemed the antithesis of his agitation, for rather than deflated and defeated, the Dragon Prince seemed more infuriated. He'd the feel of a man that had long reached a conclusion, and now had the annoying task of inviting some dullard to follow his logic to the same end. His fingers flexed, his claws pressed to his palms, and he extended three digits to illustrate his key points.

“Firstly, the truth is that the land is barren. A millennium of production by means of Dracite has ruined the soil. Nothing will grow without the crystal now. Our sole exports are precious metals and gemstones. The former of which we have depleted to purchase Dracite from your Pontiff, and the latter forms the Emperor's Hoard. The only peaceful future we could hope for is as a vassal nation of the Trinity Theocracy, dependent on charity."

“Secondly, there are no changes which I could implement which would not be undone by whoever succeeds me as Emperor. Dragons are inherently self-serving. A time comes in our lives where we identify what is most precious to us and make a Hoard of it. My choice may be benevolent, but what of that of my successor?"

“And thirdly, I lack the strength to retain the throne against draconic rivals." Each finger had lowered to its point, and now the last went down to form a fist, “I suppose these three are the main drivers of my decision to abandon my ambitions. Though I could list several more. There is no way to fix the nation. If there was, then the next Dragon to sit the throne would likely undo it. And I would not live long enough to make any reforms anyway."

His voice, which had thundered along with impatient fury now slowed and softened. With another mournful sigh, he turned his back on the interloper and delivered his final words to the watercolour horizon of his dreamscape, “Deki would not have sent you here if you were a bad person. You should flee this dream and end my life in reality. Delay much longer and you will join me in eternal slumber. There's nothing that I can do for the people. The Empire was doomed from the start. It's fine for me to just give up and die."

“Rejected."

“What?" Sirrush turned on the spot, sweeping out his arm, his tone petulant, “My argument is flawless."

“We'll face your rivals together. We'll raise a worthy Heir. And we'll come up with a solution to the barren land between us, as well."

“Idealistic nonsense! I'm significantly more intelligent than you, and ended up losing to Sloth after a last ditch attempt to artificially create Dracite." He put his first finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose, looking as if he could feel a rather severe headache beginning right before his eyes, but as his arm lowered his voice filled with passion, “How could you possibly say such a stupid thing with a straight face! There is no solution, or I would have thought of it!"

“You're cute when you show your emotions." It was a provocation worthy of Kali, and earned quite a delightful facial spasm from the infuriated Dragon, “Maybe I can do some bullshit with [Tame]? Maybe there's an answer somewhere in the dusty scrolls of the Theocracy? The West Kingdom? The hidden relics of the Northern Lowlands? Or maybe we can just ask the World God himself?" Raphael shrugged, making light of a major problem of a nation in the way that only an isekai protagonist could, “You tried Magic and it was a bust. Fine. Let's try something else together. There's no need to give up!"

His nostrils flared, and that sharp gaze returned, evaluating once again, “It is… conceivable that a solution exists outside of Magic. So unlikely that I have always discounted the possibilities. I am not so vain as to be unable to acknowledge the limitations of my singular expertise. Vanishingly slim that feeble possibility is." Though, admitting this came through a scowl, “The flaw in your pitch of hope is that in order to partake of it, I must become the Slave of a man about whom I know nothing. Why should I trust you? What's in it for you? There's no good reason that I can see for you to make such an effort, and at such a great risk, as well."

“It's hard to put into words…" The look that he was met with was a demand that he try, so he did, “I want to be a Knight." He smiled again, “I know I already am one. But I want to be a Knight in my heart, if that makes any sense. I don't think that I should use my Apex Ability arbitrarily, and I want to stay aware of the tyranny of good intentions, but… I hope to be a good man. I want to help people that are suffering, and be chivalrous, and oppose evil." Raphael gave a slight huff, “Yeah, it's vague. Pretty naïve, too. Maybe my idea of what good and evil is doesn't even mesh with this nonsense world. But, that's what my Pets are for – they all keep me grounded. Most of the time."

“You are right. That was vague and naïve." He shook his head, now fully understanding that he was dealing with some sort of idiot, “It's infuriating. In place of a logical argument, you offer me hope and feelings instead? Will your good intentions fill the stomachs of the starving? Can you oppose what you see as evil when it has a whole army of Viper at its back? You are a ridiculous man. I cannot believe that Deki bought into this foolishness." He closed his eyes, “Nor that I am considering doing so as well."

“Came around quick, didn't you? All you needed was an excuse."

“The ennui of Sloth is potent. But I recognise that I would be foolish to dismiss the new avenues that you offer out of hand, vague and ridiculous though they are. My Sin clouds my thinking, and I must go along with you at least long enough to consider this without it." The rebuke was made furiously, and allowed to linger for several moments before Sirrush found his composure, “Ahem. Let us come to a formal arrangement. You shall support my bid for the throne, protect me should I be successful, and assist me in resolving the crisis of my homeland. In turn, I am to be your Pet. What does being your Slave entail?"

“Not to be too crass about it, but it means becoming a member of my Monster Harem. A side effect of [Tame] is that I can't find pleasure without a Pet, and a Pet cannot without me. So, things… ended up this way." He was met with a particularly stern look, and Raphael struggled to justify himself, “Look, I know it sounds bad when phrased like that. I didn't choose how [Tame] evolved, it just happened on its own!"

Those eyes narrowed, if it were possible for them to narrow and sharpen much further, “A… sex cult?"

“That's not what it is!" He was quick to rebuke the accusation, “I want them all to be happy. I'm a Husband for Khut, I'm a Master for Alp, I'm a Lord for Hideki. I'm stretched a little thin, but I'm doing my best for everyone." Raphael took a slow breath, regaining his momentum, “I can only use the abilities of my Pets if there's a genuine connection there. Love makes the power stronger, cheesy though that sounds. If I wasn't serious about this, then I wouldn't be able to use borrowed Enchantment Magic to access this dream to begin with."

Sirrush sighed, “Mating is a rather boring process. The price of your partnership is really as simple as raising my tail? I don't buy into the sort of fulfilment you're implying that you offer as well, but regular sex is a small cost for an Empire."

“You think that sex is boring?"

“Yes." The answer was perfectly direct, “At least with you I will not have to drink a Potion of Malleability to withstand the process. I raise my tail, lie on my front, and ponder my research until you are done. That is how father has me."

It was the second time that he'd been taken back to the extreme since entering the dreamscape, “…every time you've had sex, you've just lay down and waited for it to be over?"

Sirrush tilted his head slightly, “What else is there for a submissive male to do? I am nothing but an outlet for the sexual desires of a superior male. Father mates me to his satisfaction and then casts me aside to be about his day." He shrugged, uncaring, “It is my preference to play the role of the female. But the process of mating is usually too brief for me to find satisfaction, and continuing to pursue pleasure after the act is a waste of my precious time."

“Wow…" He was genuinely shocked, “So, for your father, sex is simply a release of his urges, and for you nothing but a duty? But… Every Monster I've met has been so sexually charged..." Throughout his adventures in this nonsense world, he'd found that sexuality was intrinsic to every Monster species he'd encountered. While relationships and communities were typically monoracial, pleasure was generally pursued quite freely. And after the Princess, he'd assumed Dragons no different, “Moiral is so erotic… And you're submissive, but sexless?"

That inspired something of a disgusted look in turn, “It is disturbing to hear anyone call my sister erotic. Have you not noticed her deformity? No Dragon – even those that prefer females – would find the sight of her arousing."

Raphael only shook his head, “I'm going to broaden your horizons, Sirrush. I promise you that."

His mind churned with possibility. It wasn't that Sirrush was without desire, but without experience, and without the imagination to envision more. His whole world was his research, his touring of the East Island villages, and nothing beyond the practicality of fulfilling a need. Moiral may have dove into her fantasies out of loneliness, but her brother had never felt such a thing. As far as he knew, he was perfectly fulfilled already, with nothing to focus on but the cultivation of his Hoard. Hideki had been accurate in his brief, and in his suggestion: The domination of a grander male, and an introduction to pleasure, that is what would change the mind and win the heart of this Dragon, virginal in all ways that were meaningful. Unrepentant in submission, but dulled by Sloth.

His musings were interrupted by a question, “What is the process of surrendering to the power of [Tame]? Time may be dilated within the dream, but I am keen to get on with things."

“Sex." A grin came, along with the familiar feeling of opportunity, “How about we make a bet? I think you're going to enjoy mating with me. You've never experienced proper pleasure – and every Monster species I've met has sex as an intrinsic part of them. I think that you're exactly the same as your sister. All this poise on the surface, but underneath I'd put my last gold piece on you being an identical slut. Before the end, she was ready to pledge everything to be my breeding Slave housewife. I don't doubt that you'll do something similar. You just need a taste. I'm going to teach you pleasure."

“Your Pets have been indulging your ego, I think. Fine. Our bargain is struck. I am henceforth your Slave. I invite you to do your worst, whatever that may entail!" His expression was one of raw superiority, “I may be poor at reading people, but you are even worse at it than I if you think such a thing of me. In a few minutes, you will be finished with me, and we will be on our way to securing my Hoard. Shall I adopt the mating position?"

“Position singular? Finished in minutes? Gods, Sirrush. I'm going to have fun with you. I doubt it shall take more than a single fulfilling orgasm to break your resolve." Raphael took a slow breath, “I'm going to start by taking ownership of you. Will you come closer?" His expression shifted slightly, “Oh. Dominant males of your species don't ask, do they? They command. [Come]."

Even inside the dream, the Apex Ability seemed immutable, Sirrush compelled to walk the stone mountaintop into arm's reach of his new owner, “My name is Raphael, but you shall call me [Master]. I already know your true name." He began what had become a familiar ritual, “Similar height and build to myself. Maybe a little more muscular, despite the bookish nature. The horns add on a little…" He seized one, not holding back for a moment, “Brown, similar to Moiral. But these are curved backwards with lethal looking points. Sharp and elegant. They're banded and rough, each about a foot in length."

“On your [Knees]." He made the demand, and kept a hold of the horn, pulling the Dragon downwards roughly, “I'm told that Dragons dislike ambiguity, so I'm going to be clear. You've made your choice. You're my Slave now, and I'm going to use you as I wish. Even when you seat the throne, you'll be mine. I don't care for politics, only for you."

Somehow, he still wore a superior expression, despite looking up from his knees, “Provided that you do not breach the terms of our covenant, I give you permission to do as you will, Master." His voice was a bored drawl, “By all means. Continue your evaluation of me."

That earned a huff in turn, the response quite infuriating. Permission? Sirrush had agreed to be subjected to [Tame], made a deal for their future with him, but he had the spirit still of a male Dragon. It stirred a vindictiveness inside Raphael that very rarely reared its head – a thorough determination to break this Pet and take possession of them completely. He seized the side of their face, “Features are sharp and angular, with a long and thin muzzle. Eyes are shining emerald, with small pupils. [Open] your mouth."

The command was followed with a slight tilt of the head, “Soft tissue is dark green. White fangs, and a pointed tongue. [Close]. Have you ever sucked cock?" They shook their head, “You're going to learn. You'll learn to eat pussy, too – starting with your sister. I think I'll have you fuck her as well – thanks to [Tame], I'm the only one that can get her pregnant, anyway."

That earned a balking expression, the aloofness shattered for a moment, “But – she is vile!"

The fingers at his cheek lowered to his throat, “I think she's quite beautiful. Dragon aesthetics be damned." Feeling like he'd acquired some leverage, Raphael continued, “I'm going to have you lick my cum from her gaped vent while I fuck yours out of you. She'll loosen your undertail with her tongue before I mate with you. I've acquired Dragon siblings as my Pets, and I'm going to make you both sex-addicted whores, sluts that can't live without Master's cock."

A harrumph came in turn, a look of pure disapproval, “What a degenerate fantasy…"

His thumb turned their face upward from the pressure at their throat, “You don't know a thing about sex, so don't think you can be cocky with me. You may as well be a virgin, but you talk like you're the most experienced whore of the East Island. I'm going to tame you into an obedient little faggot. You can be Emperor all you want when the people are watching, but when I have you all to myself, you're my Empress."

No sense of ambiguity was permitted, and Raphael continued his evaluation, his hand slipping to their shoulder, “There is a lot of power here for the wings. Those are half-unfurled and draped over the shoulders a little like a cape. Quite stylish, I must admit. You're quite regal looking – but if I'm honest, you reek of submission." That made their nose twitch, “Dragon aesthetics only apply to other Dragons. You're about to be mated by a Human. And I don't think you mind that. It must be relieving to know that when this is all through, you can get on with managing your Hoard, while a superior male keeps you as his Pet."

An answer was not compelled, and certainly wouldn't be forthcoming otherwise, “[Strip]." Removal of the robes was as simple as a loosening of the sash holding them together, “Throat and chest are a slightly lighter shade of green – that seems to be the trend for all Dragon species. No nipples or anything. Odd, since Moiral has full on breasts. I wonder if it's subspecies specific, or a difference between the sexes?"

The question was an absent pondering not in need of answer, but Sirrush never missed an opportunity to educate, “It differs by subspecies." And then a slight twitch, “Master."

Raphael smiled in response and continued, “Arms have some musculature. Claws are sharp. You're quite withered in the real world after a half year of sleep. So, this is the real you? You've the look of a man that undertakes daily training. Good." He nodded in approval, “Routine in defiance of your Sloth is pretty impressive. I can see the mark of it at your right pectoral, the Reclining Wave."

A compliment slipped into the degradation, and Raphael did not miss the slight flicker of satisfaction that the small validation caused in the Dragon. He was absolutely the same as Moiral – just as in need of praise and worship, the satisfaction of an approval which was now his gift to give as their Master, “The scales are a little rough. Harder than a female, but not unpleasant to the touch. More like armour… I like it. There's no fragility in your form. It means I can be rough with you."

A slight push sent the draconic male onto his back, and Raphael kicked his legs open unceremoniously before kneeling between them, his hands on their abdomen, “Sculpted abdominals, and I can appreciate them through the scales. I like this as well…" His hands parted and slipped lower, coming to rest on the thighs, “Legs are digitigrade, and muscular. The tail is long and dexterous, with much lighter scale armour. And this is interesting…"

His thumbs found some new anatomy, and Sirrush commented in an arrogant drawl, “Have you not seen a male slit before, Master?" The press of scales to form a line was not dissimilar to his sister, though while hers parted to reveal the featureless passage of a syrupy Dragoness cunt, his own split to show the tip of a jade maleness, his soft flesh a darker jade shade to the softer mint of his underside.

“No, I have not." He examined the male closely, conscious that despite the inevitability of sex, there was only the smallest trace here of burgeoning arousal. It was time to see to that. Pleasure must be taught to this sexless Dragon, and Raphael would savour every moment of teaching it, “The flesh yields to my thumbs when I spread, but it's nowhere near as loose as a Dragoness. This cock isn't coming out unless it wants to…" He leaned in, “A little coaxing then…"

Contrary to Alp's ideas about how a pack Alpha should function, Raphael didn't believe that enjoying the male attributes of his Pets was in any way a diminishment of his position as Master. Every inch of them belonged to him, so why not appreciate these parts as well? The jade head of this cock was tapered and smooth, the only part of it which his tongue could reach when he parted their slit to apply himself to it. The surrounding flesh had some pliability, and his thumbs dragged it back to encourage the growth of their maleness.

“[Lie] back and relax. Be [Silent]. I own this body, even in a dream, and I'm going to take my time with you…"

Without much surface area to worth with, Raphael could apply his efforts well here, taking advantage of a Pet rendered helpless and quiet in his grasp. The warm wet of the pressing tongue drew the tip forth, his lips pressing to it in a small kiss. If Moiral tasted like the salt of the ocean, Sirrush was like the salt of a volcanic spring, a headiness which only began here and started to grow under his tender ministrations. Their left leg twitched slightly beneath his palm, the tip of his tongue rounding the ridge which crested the head like a crown.

There was some integrity to it, a stiffness far less yielding than the barbs of a feline maleness, and the sealing of his lips about the ridge again had that leg quiver slightly. Yes. It must be quite hard to masturbate with a ridged cock so solid as this. There was so little give in the flesh that only mouth, cunt, or ass, could possibly satisfy.

Raphael continued his work, and as their maleness continued to emerge from their parted slit, another ridge was revealed a little over an inch further down, just as responsive as he allowed the softness of his lips to pass over it and form a seal. Perhaps this was similar to the satisfaction that Alp or Hiro would find in knotting? No wonder the Dragons of this nonsense world were such quick shots, with wet Dragoness cunt designed to milk the climax of productive and exotic cocks.

Another ridge, and another, the last of which was particularly pronounced and drew a gasp which [Tame] could not suppress from the Dragon male when it too was drawn into the seal of Human lips. Raphael now drew back to survey the entirety of this cock, a segmented length around half the size of his own. Its appearance was exotic, as if made of interconnected armour plates with each ridge forming a divide, and already from the tip was a bead of precum.

Sirrush was looking down at him, his expression one of mild confusion, as if he'd never even imagined the concept of oral sex despite their bookishness – his head filled with the most vanilla ideas of intercourse and his own role as relief for his father. They looked unsure in the application of this unfamiliar pleasure, almost afraid, with their left leg again twitching as his thumbs dug into their slit at either side of their exposed maleness. There was something adorable about it, the dawning of how enjoyable sex could be writ across his face even with this mild stimulation.

His hand could not easily be applied to the five segments of this cock, so he used his first finger and thumb to encircle the lowest ridge and squeezed gently, his other applying some small pressure to the middle of the length, and his mouth closing over the tip for his tongue to trace slow circles. It was something he'd learned from Bravura, and seemed rather effective here as Sirrush immediately thrashed and came, the leg which was so clear a tell of his enjoyment thus far spasming entirely to kick the air.

Their essence was as thick and syrupy as that of a Dragoness, though of little quantity. He savoured it for a while, evaluating the slight salty taste of it, that reminiscence of the hot spring water he'd spent the last month languishing in each night. He opened his mouth to display to Sirrush the mess upon his tongue, and then closed it and swallowed. When his Pets did this for him, he thought of it as an act of submission. But when he did such a thing, he'd always considered it a demonstration of ownership. That cum was his, and whether he swallowed it himself or passed it back to them in a kiss was for him to decide.

A final lick was delivered, and the restrictions of [Tame] were alleviated, “Enjoy yourself?" The cloying essence still clung to his throat, thick at the back of his tongue and requiring another swallow to fully clear it, but Raphael had rather enjoyed this service.

“That…" Sirrush swallowed just as thickly, “That was not mating."

“Correct. That was just a little foreplay." The Saint shrugged, “I may intend to have you roughly, Sirrush – but I'm still a gentleman. I'm going to have you melt to this soft pleasure. Time is dilated inside the dream, you said? Good. I'm going to make sport of you until you beg me to just fuck you. I want you to become acclimatised to this. You're going to cum, over and over, until you submit and demand something greater."

Their nose twitched in response, “You speak as though you think that a few orgasms will break my mind and have me dedicate my life to you. I admit that you are skilled in pleasure. But this is nothing more than a transaction." He scoffed, despite looking a little unsure, “To claim my Hoard, I'll just have to withstand this… meagre gratification…"

Despite his strong words, his mind was racing. This was a pleasure unlike anything he had ever experienced, and for this Human was nothing but a little foreplay? Whatever happened here would have no bearing on his composure as a ruler, but if this was the temptation of sex, then it was starting to dawn on him that his personal life may very well become that of a willing slut. His submissive nature had his cock twitch at the thought, his resolve wavered, but he made of his visage the most composed look he could wear.

It was a composure which Raphael could not wait to break. Beneath their segmented cock, the soft tissue of his undertail winked between parted legs, and he now focused his attention here. Some Monsters were quite obsessively clean, and from what he'd learned it was Gryphons and Dragons that were chief amongst those species that washed themselves so thoroughly every time that it was as if they were expecting to have their asses eaten. Not that it really mattered inside a dream anyway.

With their maleness clasped in his left hand, his right came to rest against the thigh of their most expressive leg, the push of it forcing them to spread further. His tongue traced over scale, and then much softer flesh, the same jade as all other soft tissue, he lapped at their entrance and was rewarded with a slight twitch. What did Sirrush know of gentle teasing and anticipation when he'd been used as nothing but a cocksheath?

Raphael squeezed their cock softly, gentle pulses inside his hand timed to the drawing of the tip of his tongue over their undertail. There was a satisfaction to the electrifying response, the Dragon clenching his jaw to stifle any noises, but unable to curtail the twitch of his leg which came in tandem to every movement. His maleness was leaking precum, and while not tremendously productive, the thickness of each droplet went a long way.

He gathered that precum up with his thumb, a slow circular motion applying it to the first segment of their cock as he traced the ridge, his tongue mirroring that circular motion beneath their tail as he wore out the resistance of the Dragon. Their second orgasm was unexpectedly quick, their cock pulsing against his hand, and Raphael only just in time to capture their essence in his mouth as Sirrush thumped the ground alongside him, desperate to quell his pleasure.

No, Raphael couldn't waste this valuable lubrication. He'd not control of the dream himself, so could hardly contrive a vial of oil to his hand. Perhaps power over this fantasy could later be usurped, but for now he opened his mouth and extended his tongue to drool their draconic cum over their undertail, and immediately set two fingers to it to gently probe deeper, pressing the slick into the submissive male.

It was here that he found what he was looking for quite easily, the twitch of their leg telling him before even any noticeable difference in feel at his fingertips, “That's your bitch-button, Sirrush. That's what is going to make you sing like a whore when I fuck you."

“I-“ The voice was frustrated, “I know what a prostate is, you vulgar man!" Some measure of composure had been lost, but much draconic hubris remained in his voice, and the Dragon now quivered as he fought to regain momentum, the slight twitch of Raphael's fingertips against that spot of pleasure doing little to help him, “Get, ah, on with it! Have your fun so that we may be done with this!"

It was no use. Raphael had seen through him. He'd not anticipated this desire to fall upon him so quickly, a war that was lost with his first orgasm. But draconic pride would not allow him to voice his surrender now, not until he had suffered enough to make his submission appear to be hard won. It was a desperate composure, propped up by the arrogance of his species, but allowed him to steel himself once more for the coming storm.

“You Dragons cum real easily. Quick and often." He took a slow breath, relieving himself of his cape and starting to strip his armour, “I suppose you have to when a Dragoness can only keep herself clenched up for an exotic cock for so long before she runs out of stamina…" There was no need to pile his equipment in a dream, so he threw it away without ceremony, “I wonder how many shots you've got in you before you break down?"

He unveiled his own maleness, and as he moved between their legs, he let it rest alongside theirs, a Human cock, simple compared to this exotic ridged length, but near double the mass. Raphael scoffed, “This is the bitch breaker of a real man. Put your [Hand] on it." Of course, it was difficult to emasculate a Dragon by comparative size when the one fucking him to this point was so large that they could not be taken without a Potion of Malleability, but with their comparable stature this still did something to appeal to those submissive instincts.

The surprisingly soft grip of a scaled hand closed about his length, and Raphael brought himself alongside his Pet, leaning over them, pulling their body into his own, and slipping his fingers deep inside their cumslicked undertail. While he'd no agency over the dream, he retained power over his own body, and now reflected the boundless sexual vigour of [Tame]. His fingers targeted that point of pleasure within the smaller male, and with a lewd slicking sound, he began to stir them up, probing heated insides in a rocking motion.

With nowhere to thrash, held inside his free arm and drawn into him, Sirrush was unable to suppress his expressions of pleasure as effectively. His first true moans came from his throat, the slight buck of his lower body as a third orgasm erupted between them, a meagre cumshot painting his scaled abdomen. Raphael cooed him softly, continuing to move his fingers through their peak of pleasure. It was slick that he quickly gathered up to place somewhere more useful – in this case his fingers presented to their face.

“[Clean] them." He demanded, and with an expression of utmost shame, the prone Dragon did, “That poise doesn't hold up when you've got pressure on your bitch button, does it? It feels good, doesn't it? [Answer]."

A slight growl came in turn, but it softened into a hum as Raphael returned his fingers to their segmented cock and with one finger at each ridge, he squeezed it, “Yes! Of course it – ah - feels good!" For a race designed for brief and furious sex, he'd never experienced more than one orgasm at a time, and his head was starting to swim as this feeling of pleasure grew. Each climax was a peak of its own, but it came with the temptation of some higher ecstasy, as if these were mere steps on the climb to something greater.

“Imagine how good my cock would feel." The pace of his probing digits slowed to a languid pace, “A submissive little thing like you was made to be fucked. Your insides are pulling at my fingers like you're trying to suck them inside you. I'll have you surrender, and become my plaything." He made sport of the squirming Dragon, “You're going to ride my cock for my pleasure. You're going to fuck your sister because it will entertain me. I know there's a slut inside you. That's why you're fighting so hard to keep it down. What do you lose by letting it out? Why stifle your enjoyment of this?"

It took every effort to marshal some token defence, “Nonsense!" The word came out as a wail of defiance, “I'm – I – slow down!" Raphael only sped up, the press of his fingers an assault against their bitch button, the strength of his arms rocking them against the rut, “Please – I'm! – Let me – Ah! – think!"

His thoughts were filled with white fog, the dreamscape beyond their mountaintop becoming ever more abstract, his body now bent over itself enough for his next orgasm to be delivered onto his upper chest and neck. Raphael grinned, “No, you don't get to think. All that effort managing your Hoard? That's what thinking is for. When you're with me, you relax. Empty head. No thoughts. Nothing there but pleasure and desire. All you have to be for me is a willing slut. You like pleasure. Embrace that."

Within the dream, the logical mind of Sirrush demanded a certain level of verisimilitude, and the realism imposed by their control of this dreamscape subjected them to the torture of overstimulation. Raphael was ceaseless in his assault, sometimes playing with their segmented cock, sometimes feeding him his own cum, but most often hammering away beneath his tail, his fingers demanding the submission of his insides with every press to his bitch button. The Dragon moaned and bucked, enraptured by pleasures that he had never before imagined.

“Have you noticed you've been stroking my cock?"

It sounded like the voice came from far away, but it brought some lucidity back to the Dragon, his eyes glassy and a mess of cum and drool leaking over his chin. The Human shaft was hot in his hand, leaking its own steady stream of precum at the meagre stimulation of his palm, and the arousal of dominating the lesser male. His breath caught in surprise when Raphael withdrew, taking back those wonderful fingers, and pulling away his maleness as well. He was left alone, devoid of the pleasure of touch, and a needy whine came from his throat, despite the shame of it.

He gasped, drawing in air in the wake of this exertion, his breathing a mess as if he'd flown a great distance. Sirrush had been so close to something, a grander pleasure just outside of his reach, something which the stimulation of fingers and tongue could not elevate him to. His draconic instincts demanded that he submit to a greater male, his legs felt like jelly, his tail naturally flagged, and his chest came to the floor as he rolled over and presented himself to Raphael.

“I – I can't think…" His thoughts were beyond him, only instinct driving his motions, “I need you – please…" He moved his hips from side to side, shaking his ass in the air. The logical Sirrush was a different person, but defeated by his own draconic instincts, the demand of them to place himself at the mercy of a greater male, and with his mind deadened by pleasure, he could not resist, “More…"

Raphael grinned. It was a victory easily won. The regal Sirrush would belong to his Hoard, wise and driven by logic. But the Pet Sirrush was his, and he would now cement their surrender by taking advantage of this weakness, “Degrade yourself." He didn't make it a command under [Tame], “I won't fuck you until you do."

Sirrush swallowed. It was a calculated command, for being forced to think on it brought some measure of lucidity back to his pleasure-addled mind. What was he doing? Each orgasm had robbed him of more of his reason, kindled his Dragon instincts to throw himself at the mercy of a more potent male, and brought him to this state of submission. Perhaps it was alright? What did it matter really if he was a willing slut rather than one which raised their tail from obligation? Why should he not enjoy himself if this was to be a regular part of his life now? What good was all of this careful composure when he could bask in such pleasure?

Sloth helped him along, presenting the easiest solutions, and he was tempted to their conclusions. Yes. He could administer his Hoard as a proud and regal Dragon, filled with authority and control. But when Raphael had him, when his Master had him, what was the harm of melting into this joy? His tail swayed high, “Please, Master…" He wasn't the imaginative sort, his mind filled with statistics and plans, his world one of data and politics, and to speak the words that Raphael wanted was difficult for him.

The Human was quite sexually aggressive, dominant, commanding, and had dispensed no shortage of slurs and foul language. He promised that he would force him to mate with his sister – and while incest was a part of draconic culture, the idea of laying with such a disgusting example of his species was… actually becoming more arousing by the moment. What other taboos of Dragon sensibility would be trampled on? Oh, how comfortable it was to crumple under the control of a more powerful male. He must fill his mind with desperate depravity and entice this man to possess him!

Sirrush closed his eyes and surrendered a stream of consciousness, “Please fuck me with your superior Human cock!" He swallowed, and searched for the filthiest words he could find in his vanilla mind, “I'm a pathetic slut that was born to submit to you! I'm a faggot that can only cum when you press my bitch button!" He took a breath, “I didn't know! I didn't know sex could feel like this! All I need to have in my head is lifting my tail for you! I'll do whatever you say! I'll suck your cock! I'll mate with my sister! I'll be your toy! You can do anything to me! You can do everything to me! Just please – please fuck me!"

He moaned and thrust his hips upward, “I want to be your sex-slave! I want it as much as I want my Hoard! I need a stronger, better, male on my back, making me his whore! I can't do it on my own! I need to be owned! I need to be looked after! I want to be a Pet! I want to be in your Hoard!" His legs were shaking, “Please… more…"

Sirrush wasn't entirely sure if he believed everything he was saying, or if he was simply caught up in the moment, but his begging was completely wholehearted. A vision had appeared before his eyes, a double-life of regal composure worthy of a Dragon spent in rulership, and a slothful reverie in which he needed do nothing but serve his Master to acquire satisfaction. When the Human seized his hips and positioned the head of that obscene cock at his undertail, he moaned with the exact same unrestrained joy as Moiral.

Ruined by the savage probing of his fingers and slickened with syrupy draconic cum, this Dragon boy-cunt yielded to its Master with very little resistance, their insides long since beaten into submission. While used to a much larger insertion, this was the first cock that Sirrush had ever taken without the aid of a Potion of Malleability, and it felt to Raphael akin to the claiming of a male virginity. His scaled body was rough to the touch, but all the better for his hands to seize and claim purchase on them.

He hilted himself immediately, inch by inch, never letting up the sinking press of his claim. The posture came with a sense of empowerment, with a Dragon beneath him pressing his chest to the stone, but raising his hindquarters and tail high on shaking legs. It was a submission bred into their instincts, an acknowledgement of a greater male to surrender to, that it was their natural place to play the role of the female when faced with a grander masculinity. Oh, yes. Raphael grinned. He would condition this Dragon until the mere sight of him was enough to make their legs wobble!

The Dragon quivered beneath his dominant male, feeling the full satisfaction that came with being claimed by Raphael's cock. He could actually breathe while being fucked, he could roll his hips back and enjoy himself, and as his hips were canted, each thrust came with a tingle of pleasure which was targeted rather than incidental. For the first time, it felt like being mated rather than simply used, and his voice shed its arrogant drawl to become sweet and inviting, the pitch of every moan needy and feminine.

A hand was pressing between his shoulder blades, another grasped at his thigh, his body angled perfectly for the Human to best make him sing, “I'm – Master, I'm -!" Sirrush wailed, climbing a tier to some greater satisfaction as his segmented cock throbbed and sprayed over the stone beneath him.

“Yes, that's the sort of bitchgasm you're going to get used to…" Raphael crooned, his voice high above him, “Even when you sink that exotic cock into your sister's cunt – I'll be on your back fucking the essence out of you." He grit his teeth, indulging his own fantasies, “And not just me. I'll have my Wolfman knot you. My Gryphon will grind your face into the stone and put his cum deep under your tail. I'm going to use my Felyne as a living cocksheath on you, a toy to stroke your maleness. You'll put your jaws around the throat of your old servant. And you'll rape my Zoroark whore as hard as I compel you to!"

He ground his hips in a slow circle, exerting though force to rock their body beneath him, “You're a sex-slave, a member of my Monster Harem, and you'll fuck however I tell you to fuck. Will you go just as limp if I have you intimately in my lap? Will you wrap your arms around me and whimper like a loving little faggot? What sort of face will you make if I use Enchantment Magic to make you cum yourself dry and then keep going? The litany of pleasures at my command is mine to indulge you in – and yours to demand!"

Raphael was rapacious in the slamming of his hips as he built up momentum, engaging the force of his enhanced strength to ensure that every thrust drove the submissive male back and forth over the stone. Everything was to engage those draconic instincts, to master their biological need to surrender when a grander male had them at their mercy. He envisioned a future in which he would seduce this Dragon for sport and have them collapse into their mating position in a need stoked by sweet words and depraved fantasies. Moiral as well, with the praise and validation that these Dragons so desperately needed, he would have them both surrender.

His cock pulsed, buried deep, “I'm going to cum, Sirrush." He snarled it out, “Moiral came over and over again when we shared pleasure as well – but she didn't reach a true climax until I put a load in her womb. Is it going to be the same with you? Are you the same as a breeding Dragoness? A needy submissive that cums hardest when they feel the seed of the Master that owns them inside them?"

He was hardly expecting an answer, and nothing came in response but a particularly throaty moan. Raphael leaned forward, pinning their raised tail between them as he crushed their body down into the stone, the hand between their wings shifted to grasp at their neck. The breath of a Dragon was sacred, and the denial of it their grandest submission, but Raphael only knew that it made Sirrush seize up, his undertail clenched, and with a snarl in his ear, the Human pumped his seed deep in thick ropes of white essence.

The Dragon whimpered pathetically as he met that orgasm with his own, his mind bullied into complete submission by the pleasure of it. The whimper accelerated into a keening whine as the orgasm continued, gaining intensity, every shot of their syrupy cum spattering the stone beneath him a final surrender. Raphael ground his hips, and the Dragon roared, his throat vibrating against their hand, and his segmented cock erupting with his messiest and most potent explosion of pleasure. His vision faded to white, his will came to be entirely under the control of [Tame], and the power of Sloth over the dream was broken at last.

Raphael's Enchantment Magic became the administrative force of the dreamscape, and the moment that he found himself in control of this inner world, a grin settled upon his face. He pulled his cock from the downed Dragon, seeing no need to seek further pleasure of his own inside this fantasy when the real world awaited. But within the dilated time of imagination, there was still much that he could do.

The litany of pornography from his home world flashed behind his eyes.

He reshaped the dream into a dank cave, hot and humid, the walls and floor strangely soft underfoot, the Human leaning against one of them to watch his entertainment play out. Sirrush was shook from his reverie by the seizing of his leg by a pink tendril and dragged into the darkness. There was no losing consciousness inside a dream, and Raphael subjected him to hours of being forcibly fucked by the tentacles of some monstrous creature, the fantasy culminating in the forcing of a great many eggs under his tail. He had the Dragon restrained against the wall and made them birth every one of them.

The dream changed again to a lowland forest, and Raphael recalled the dozen Wolfman males that he'd dealt with not long after first arriving in this nonsense world, the day that he acquired Alp. He had them pin Sirrush down, taking turns in making sport of him, knot by knot, until he lay in a ruinous pool of musky wolf cum, his undertail gaped lewdly and his cock entirely spent.

“More…!"

A taste of pleasure had made a true slut of the Prince. Why Wolfmen when he could have feral wolves at his command? He set them on Sirrush's back to have their fun, their claws digging into his scales, their hips a blur as they made their ties in hopes of breeding their gifted bitch. He put the threat of fangs at his throat and had the future monarch set his muzzle to their bestial cocks, each spray of seed delivered not to his throat but across his face.

This dream world changed again, to the brick walls of a classic looking dungeon, a great sphere of light green slime rolling over the Prince to collect him, suspending him inside the fluid. Of course it was breathable, Raphael's shared need for verisimilitude even inside a dream demanding some contrivance to make it so, despite it hardly mattering. What did matter was the lewd rippling of the Dragon's undertail as the slime poured itself inside of him, showing off the inner walls of their plaything as it fucked the cum out of him for ropes of white to accumulate floating inside the slime with every orgasm.

He tore the Dragon from the creature and into another world, leaving them sputtering a cascade of green, now in a futuristic setting, all white ceramic and grey steel, with a viewing window showing the vast expanse of the stars. Naturally, they were strapped to a table, with a glass vessel lined with padding and no shortage of suction at his cock, and a machine pistoning an artificial maleness into their ruined undertail. He had them injected with chemicals to break their mind with arousal and allow them to be more productive than ever before, filling vial after vial with cum for some unknowable purpose.

“P-please! Master! More!"

Another fantasy took root as he fell from the operating table, again immobilised within the stockade of one of the East Island towns, with a Zoroark he had yet to meet likewise locked down at his side and a queue behind them both. Every load delivered under his tail would be met with the marking of a tally above them, and he was compelled to compete to pleasure these men by the ceaseless taunting of the broken vixen whore that demanded every rape be all the harder.

Within the dream, every consecutive fantasy was a vague blur, a scenario imagined by Raphael and forced upon the Dragon, hours and days compressed into dilated time as he taught depravity to his vanilla Pet. It was nothing but a taste, a promise of pleasures to come, and sublime entertainment for the Master of these fantasies. But in the end, they must awaken.

Raphael blinked, returned to the real world at last to find a familiar warmth around his cock. Never one to waste a load of his seed, Kali had placed herself on her knees between his legs, suckling down the orgasm he'd found inside the dream. Judging by the lack of mess on his armour, she'd probably been down there from the moment that she'd noticed his arousal.

Sirrush was not so lucky. The Dragon was whimpering pathetically, the front of his robes tented and awash with thick draconic cum. He looked to be in ruins, despite the initial claiming of him and every fantasy that had followed being nothing but a dream, he now collapsed from his chair to curl up on the floor, still moaning in the aftermath of so many forced orgasms. A well fucked submissive to be added to the Monster Harem.

A familiar voice came from his side, “Oh, very well done. I wonder how much of that slideshow of dreams you will make real one day? Quite the nice little taster for this vanilla Prince, yes?"

The Saint set his hand to Kali's head, doing nothing to stop the pleasure he now worked towards as he casually responded to the deity, “He can be a regal and just Emperor for his country. But when I have him, I'm interested in him, not politics." He shook his head slowly, “After he recovers, we need to find Moiral and his father. Then he can make his challenge and we'll put an end to this."

“He's right, you know." The World God sounded solemn, striding into view as he set his fingers to his illustrious beard, “The East Island is entirely reliant on Dracite. There's no changing that. The country is doomed without it." He gave a steady sigh, “You're about to ask a question that I really don't want to answer. But I will, because I think I owe my Champion that much." He then hopped from foot to foot, looking rather comical, “Don't say I don't do you any favours!"

A period of silence passed, in which nothing was heard but the moaning of Sirrush and the lewd suckling of Kali, the World God taking his time before finally delivering to his expectant Saint, “How do you fix the East Island? I don't want you to think too much about it until you're done here, but... you need to return Dracite to the region. Which means unrefined Mithril back in the earth..."

"And there's only one person in all of this nonsense world which can [Creation] that up…"

~ SevenWingedDragon ~

Note: Special thanks to User NoNoNope for their encouragement. User Saxton for chiming in with suggestions, as well. And an extra special thanks to User OddReptile for their suggestion for Kig-Yar, and all of the messaged data that's really helped with a future entry.

As well as the usual thanks for every fave, vote, watch, sub to the folder, and view - I want to convey my grattitude to a few people that I won't name as some profiles are private. There are some familiar names that I often see pop up with a vote, fave, or both, on many of the entries. I do notice, and I really appreciate it. So, thanks for being absolute legends. You know who you are. I'm really happy that you've followed the series along for so long, and seeing the same names popping up over many chapters has been really great.

As for this entry - I lost a lot of writing time over the holidays for obvious reasons, but churned it out in the end. It was fun to play around with some faceless enemy mooks in the intro, and I always enjoy screentime with Kali and her obnoxious aggression. Next up is the final confrontation with the Emperor in the form of an Interlude. It's also where I'm intending to get Raphael, Sirrush, and Moiral all together in a lewd scene! Then, just an Epilogue (obligatory orgy) to round things off and Arc Two is complete!

Though, I've a slew of Shorts to do as well, with each of the six Pets of this arc each being owed one. If anyone has any ideas or requests, I'd be happy to hear them. Raphael has made all sorts of promises of depravity, and whether any of those end up being the focus of a Short, or if there's something entirely different, these small lewd chapters are pretty in the air. Anyway - I hope everyone had a fantastic New Year!

Have a most excellent day.