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[b][u][center]A Whole New Party

Part 10

for Engy

by Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]

Red-Arms didn't know what they were going to face in the dungeon, but the monk faced it with a conflict in his heart that he honestly didn't understand. It was the first time that he had taken on a mission with the team that he felt anything less than totally focused on, and it was hard to tell just what he wanted.

Wanted. That in and of itself was new, to want anything, to care for or crave anything that might be laid in front of him. Until the last few days, all he had wanted was the chance to keep fighting, keep killing, to bring the red and taste the blood and feel the rage shed under that warm flow. It had always worked in the past, banishing the easy fury that ran through his mind all the time, but since the dragon had shown up...

As the others, even Viola, feasted, he took a small portion for himself and stepped off to the side. The anger was there, holding firm right in the back of his head, but it wasn't yet trying to take over. It had begun when Viola had started insisting that this had to be a trap, or something along those lines, but he had managed to tame it and push it back. He had taken control and made it his own again.

And now...

Now, he felt it waiting, hoping for the chance to be triggered, hoping to surge forward again. He was holding it at bay, but he knew that without the blood, the killing, the slaughter, he would eventually be taken by it again.

Once, that helplessness would have made him furious. This time, it merely made him...sad, if anything. There was something to it that made him feel sad that he couldn't actually control himself, that his anger controlled him instead. He felt broken, rather than whole. Wrong, rather than right. Weak, rather than strong.

[i]If I can't control this...[/i]

Red-Arms hadn't felt like this since his time in the monastery before he had found out that blood worked so well to calm him down. He hadn't felt this helpless since before he had discovered that tool, since he had been an angry young man that had been determined to find a way to control the rage that would have made a berserker blanch. It was right there, waiting, almost like some smug bully ready to take control again.

In the presence of the dragon, he had felt...safe. He had felt at ease, if not happy. He had been calm, if not satisfied. It allowed him a chance to think without killing, and it was...strange. Good? Kind of. It wasn't enough on its own, but it was a start.

[i]They want him as a slave. I...I just want this...[/i]

Yes, they could have the dragon as their slave if they all got through the dungeon. They had been promised that deal, but that wasn't necessarily a guarantee that it would be as good for him then. What if he was the one in charge and he managed to mess up the deal that they currently had? What if he didn't get what he wanted when he was in charge instead of the dragon? What if, what if, so many what-ifs that normal monks would have been happy to debate, but he wasn't a normal monk. He was a monk of blood and destruction, one that had never been truly trained for philosophy.

He sighed, putting down the bread and meat that he'd taken. He was no longer hungry.

As the rest of the team finished their food, the door to the next room opened. Viola drew her sword and Kyo'Thar grabbed his staff, but no enemy suddenly lunged out. Instead, two kobolds pushed the door opened, and then bowed to them, gesturing for the group to step through.

"...Since when do they act like people?" Viola muttered.

"Since when do they want people in their home, is the better question," Olfel muttered.

Red-Arms didn't bother listening. He could feel the anger looking for a target, and they were a little too easy for his liking. Instead, he pushed past them, stepping into the room beyond.

To his surprise, there were changes of clothing there. Armor, yes, but there were also robes, and bedclothes, and more. There were things for sex, and things for showing off. There were high-quality silks all over the place, waiting to be worn, and he felt like he had walked into a clothing shop.

Olfel whistled as the dwarf joined him, shaking his head.

"This place is probably worth at least a few platinum," the black-bearded man muttered. "Wonder what it's all for."

"Master says, dress how you like," one of the kobolds said. "Wants you happy. Wants you feel good while going through dungeon."

"Probably trapped," Viola muttered. "Kyo'Thar?"

"...They're not."

"Bullshit."

"They are not trapped," the orc repeated. "I don't know what's happening anymore than you do, but he's not trapped these clothes."

"Something's wrong here. He's too nice."

"He is a good dragon," Red-Arms said. "I believe he is merely following his nature."

"Oh, you just want him to win. Unless you have something useful to say, shut up."

He shrugged, letting them be as angry as they wanted. He was finding it easier to be disappointed, and it meant that the anger wasn't surging forward nearly as powerfully as it used to. As he walked along the walls, touching the different clothing that had been laid out for them, Red-Arms realized that he was already on the verge of seeing the dragon as a friend, a benefactor rather than an opponent.

[i]...Would it be better?[/i] he wondered. [i]Would he make me feel right?[/i]

The more that the monk thought about it, the more tempted that he became. He owed the party as much as he could bring to bear, as much loyalty as he could summon, but he no longer wanted to be brought to bleed others. He no longer wanted to be the killing machine that he had become. Now that there was another option, he just...he wanted to do what he could to get it. To earn it.

To be worth it.

He paused at one of the robes. Rather than the sleeveless, red robe that he had, this one was a simple white, almost cream-colored. If he wore it, it would cover his arms again, almost like a bath in paint, something that would give him the feeling of a new start.

It was almost a compulsion for him, and he ripped it from the walls, throwing his own clothes to the ground in bits and pieces. He was in a frenzy, and could not stop himself long enough to take it off like a civilized man. Instead, he just felt the compulsion, the need to dress in something that would let him take that first step, to have that new start. He pulled his arms through the sleeves, and for the first time in too many years, the red stains on his arms were hidden. Only his hands remained exposed, and they looked more like gloves in this robe.

The rest of the party stared at him in shock, their eyes wide, and Red-Arms slowly shook his head. How could they understand? He didn't think that they could.

"Red-Arms -"

"No. Don't...don't call me that anymore," he muttered.

"...Do you want to go back to Mandred?" Viola asked.

"No. I don't...I don't know what I want to be called now. But I don't want those."

He didn't want to be dreaded, and he didn't want to be called by something that he didn't need to do anymore. His arms didn't have to be red any longer. He didn't - he didn't have to do that anymore.

[i]Right?[/i]

He half-expected the dragon to answer him in his head, but there was no answer, no sudden response. Instead, he was left alone, in silence and submission.

As he looked down at his arms again, he saw the braces from the other dungeon. They were probably at least half to 'blame' for what he was going through, but this time, he didn't really mind. He liked the fact that they were giving him something to ground him, but...but they weren't quite right. There was something off about armor there, something that needed to be different, something that needed correction for what he actually was going to be.

[i]Correction. No, restraint.[/i]

That felt right, and he realized that there was something else on the wall. He stumbled towards it, pulling two silver shackles from the wall. They were thick enough to look like the sorts of things that prisoners or slaves would wear. He ditched the braces and pulled them on, and he sighed softly to himself, hugging his arms around his middle. He didn't know why, but that? That made him feel better.

The rest of the party was still staring at him, and he realized that they must have been thinking that he had lost his mind. Perhaps he had. There was much to be worried about, when dragons were involved.

"I am ready," he muttered.

"Come, come, dragon has dungeon ready for you."

"Red - ugh, wait!"

"Rest of you, get dressed," the other kobold said. "Master wants you comfy. He only one comfy."

"How do you know?" Viola growled. "I'm fine."

"You look like stick up butt. Find something, relax."

#

The monk that had been Red-Arms waited in the third room until the rest of his party joined him. They had all changed clothes, as well, though only Viola maintained her armor. Kyo'Thar looked like he had changed to something of an imitation of a wizard's robes, and Olfel looked like some rich official rather than the bard that he was. He didn't pay them much mind. Instead, his attention remained fixed in front of him, on a stone door that was still closed.

"What's this?" Viola asked.

"Entrance to dungeon," one of the kobolds said. "Pick door that feels good."

"No thanks. Where do they lead?"

"Each leads to different route, but all end same place. Pick one."

"I want the shortest one."

"Oh, no, no. Robe-guy has that. He already pick."

"Then we're putting him somewhere else."

"No, no, no change. Once pick, stay pick. Pick different."

He was grateful for the kobolds. They were...almost sweet in their stupidity, but there was something more there. They felt like the dragon, and that was something that he needed more than he realized right then. He took a few deep breaths, his arms wrapped tight around him.

Viola attempted to keep arguing with the kobolds, and he realized that she was scared. Something had changed for her, leaving her without the confidence that she had always had as the leader. Instead, she was questioning everything, pushing to keep control when normally she would have let them have their heads. Something had taken what she was from her, and she wasn't sure what to do.

[i]You will learn.[/i]

Eventually, Olfel and Kyo'Thar took the choice from her, picking their doors rather than waiting. He wondered if they felt drawn to theirs the way that he did to his. It felt like he was getting given some sort of guidance just by relaxing and listening. The anger at not knowing was there, but the presence of the dragon throughout the dungeon diminished it to some extent. Instead of being too puzzled, he just sighed, relaxed, and waited to see what would happen.

When Viola was forced to take her place, as well, the kobolds walked to two levers on either side of the room. They nodded at one another, then pulled them open.

"Dragon say, good luck. He hope you find good self inside."

"What do you-"

Viola's question wasn't complete for him. All that mattered was that he could move forward, and so he did. He stepped through the stone archway, and into the dungeon that waited for him.

The door shut behind him immediately, and he groaned as he felt the weight of the silver bands around his wrists tugging him down. His breath caught in his throat, his body immediately feeling heavier than he remembered it ever feeling. It almost felt like he was overwhelmed, filled with a burden that he had no strength to carry, and barely had the strength to stay upright with it.

"Nnngh..."

Huffing through his nose to clear his head, he looked back and forth. The first chamber in the dungeon was...empty, almost. Almost, save for the chains that hung from the walls and ceiling. He felt like he was staring at the entrance to a true dungeon, something that one would find under a city or in a castle. The manacles that hung from the ceiling looked like they were trapped, too, waiting to snap closed and grab someone that came too close.

Gritting his teeth, he took a step forward. His leg wobbled, his anger rising, surging upwards at this barrier to carrying him forward. He wanted to find the dragon. He wanted to...he wanted to...

He roared in rage as it came upon him, and as he did, the shackles shook before him. One, then another, and another lifted, slowly turning towards him.

[i]They...sense...anger...[/i]

Realizing what they were coming for, he tried to calm himself, but the rage had him in its grips now. He could feel it burning in his veins, but rather than swinging him forward, rather than giving him the strength and speed that it had always done, it only felt heavier. [i]He[/i] felt heavier, carried down by it. His knees shook, and the shackles came closer and closer.

Even as he clumsily lifted one fist to try and punch them away, it closed around his wrist. He gasped at the sudden tightness around him, just above the silver band, and as he tried to grab it, another came down and grabbed his other hand. They lifted him up, holding him tight, his feet leaving the ground. His sandals fell from his feet, leaving him barefoot, gasping for breath as he felt like his arms were going to be pulled from their sockets with the weight of that anger. It only got worse as his rage grew stronger and stronger, more and more painful.

[i]You can be free from it,[/i] a soft voice whispered in the back of his head. [i]It's part of you, but you've always been a prisoner to it. Leave it here...let it be my prisoner, instead.[/i]

There was a kindness to that voice, something soft, something gentle. The part of him that had become Red-Arms to face the anger before, the part that carried some hint of all the guilt for the things that he had done to quell that anger inside of him, was all too happy to listen.

[i]No, don't do this to me![/i] the fury all but roared in his head. [i]You need me! You NEED me![/i]

But...he didn't. He had been the prisoner of his rage, and while it had made him strong, while it had allowed him to break and destroy things that no other monk could have stood against, he knew that it had been his own determination to stay alive that had kept him going. The anger gave him power, but it took his focus. It was always something to be dealt with, not something to empower him.

He looked at the chains around his arms. For a moment, he saw double, seeing the red arms of fury and the white sleeves of his new robe at the same time. He stared at that, wondering if he was imagining things, but then decided that it didn't matter. If he was imagining things, then giving up would just call the dragon. If he wasn't imagining things, then he could leave his anger here.

Shackles were bindings, and his anger had gone too long unbound. It was time for it to be locked up instead of him.

He leaned back, and relaxed. As he did so, he felt like he was falling backwards, and in some ways, perhaps he was. A ghostly red figure was left behind, the burning crimson of rage locked in the shackles over his head. As he fell back, back, back, he saw it become more and more solid, but even as it howled and flailed and kicked, it couldn't take him back. It was caught, and he was free.

He hit the floor, not Mandred the weak, nor Red-Arms the brutal. He was something else, now.

He looked down at his hands. The red bloodstains were gone, replaced by something else. His skin felt pale, soft, smooth, but there was something else to it, something ghostly. He felt...ephemeral, like he had lost something to his solidity, something of himself.

[i]You left it behind, but you need something solid once more. You could be a ghost, monk, but let me give you something better.[/i]

"How...what happened to me...what happens...what happens if I stay like this?"

[i]You will be a spirit. The only solid part holding you back are the silver shackles. But that only gives you a bit of a presence now. You are free, but are you ready to be free?[/i]

The answer was, simply put, no. He had managed to imprison his anger, but he didn't know how to keep himself free of it. He didn't trust himself not to fall back into that fury the moment that he left the dungeon, the moment that he managed to put it behind him. He had already proven that there was a big part of him that didn't deserve to be trusted, particularly with how he was willing to turn his back on his party and throw in with the dragon.

Oddly enough, he didn't feel guilty for that. Perhaps it was because he didn't feel like he would be used by the master, the dragon that would give him peace. He felt like he was going to be part of a team, and made better than he was, rather than merely taken advantage.

"What do I do?"

[i]Give in to me, little human. Give in to me, and I will give you a body once more.[/i]

"Will it be mine?"

[i]It will be something that suits you.[/i]

"...You swear?"

[i]I swear.[/i]

He looked at the ghost of his rage, at the anger that still swayed from the ceiling. He knew for a fact that it would burn for hours, if not years. It would scream and rage against the darkness, swearing vengeance, craving blood. His anger would become a monster if it was allowed, roaming the halls of this dungeon, waiting to take someone else down with it. That was the way of anger; it sought out what it could, and, fairly or not, threw itself against it with all the fury of nature, of the storm and the volcano. There was no way around it.

Just like there was no way around him giving the dragon his submission if he wanted a body again. For all that he was happy to leave his anger behind, he knew that he needed help to be a better person. He needed a body to fix the things that he had done wrong.

"I agree. I submit."

[i]Then be welcome as mine, little monk.[/i]

Something magical reached out to him through the dark, through the shackles that he wore. As he stared at his arms, he watched as his arm hairs started falling out, his skin going completely smooth. As the little hairs fell away, he realized that the skin beneath was slowly turning smoother still. No longer all one thing, but scaly, yet soft and smooth, almost like something that was more like a frog's flesh rather than a lizard's. He ran his hand over the opposite wrist, feeling the soft moisture over the smoothness.

It felt...good.

He smiled slowly, feeling the smoothness creeping up his arms. He opened his robes, allowing them to hang down off his shoulders and down his arms as the transformation crept up his body. The ghostly flesh that he had became solid again, slowly transforming into something far from human, but something gentle, nice, and...and soft for him. He touched his chest, feeling his muscles, still, but they were lean, harder to find beneath the soft squish that was spreading across his fighting form.

While there was some sadness to see his body become something soft and...almost cute, in a way, he actually felt good about the new form. It was time for a new him, time for a him that was not so dedicated to the business of creating suffering. And it wasn't that he was weak, either. Even as he clenched his arm, he could see his muscles beneath the new, creamy skin, but it was layered under something that gave the illusion of softness, the illusion of someone gentle, padded, and easy to overpower.

It would make others feel safe around him, he realized, rather than afraid of him.

"Thank you," he whispered.

He ran his newly-solid hands over his arms, and then over his chest, then down to his stomach. A soft, yellow-cream underbelly had started to take form on him, and he realized that he was becoming something most inhuman indeed. A gecko? Yes, that felt about right now that he had a better look at himself. His body was going lean, but with that soft squish in the middle that made him feel 'cute' again, something that made him feel like the dragon might have a few other plans.

There was a warmth of embarrassment in the link between him and the dragon, and he smiled. He actually felt at ease from that. He reached out through that link, then hesitated as he realized that he had been about to try and hug his benefactor.

"I...I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head, not sure what had come over him.

The hesitation was matched on the other side, then thrown away as he felt a mental embrace, something that squeezed him tight and welcomed him in. He felt the pressure of arms that were not there, the embrace of wings that he could not see. They were all around him, putting pressure on his changing body, and he almost wanted to cry from the warmth and acceptance that came from that embrace despite all that he had done.

[i]What have I been missing all this time?[/i]

The change continued rippling over him, his body becoming more and more real. The lean limbs and thicker core translated to more substance going around...behind him, and he realized that some of that weight was concentrating on his backside. His exercises had always emphasized total control and awareness of the body, and he realized that he was starting to get a thicker rump than he was used to. Something more, too, something that was starting to grow just over his rump, starting to take shape just at the base of his spine.

A tail, he realized just as it was starting to poke free. It was covered in the same soft, smooth, almost impossibly slippery scales as the rest of him, and he blushed as he realized that the slight 'slime' that came through his flesh was also rubbing under his tail and between his cheeks. It made him more aware of his...his hole than he had ever been before, and while that might not have been the dragon's intentions, it still happened.

[i]Oh gods...[/i]

He shifted from side to side, feeling his cheeks rubbing against each other, sliding off one another from the slime and size that they were getting. They threw his balance off, and he knew that he would have to re-train to be able to take all of this properly. Even as his hips grew and swelled, even as he felt the sheer heft going on down there, he realized that something else was starting to grow, too.

"What..."

[i]You will have a different body...and I'm...I'm learning something, too.[/i]

He didn't know what the dragon meant, but he gasped as he fell to his knees. His silver shackles hit the floor, but his legs were being forced to spread by the sheer growth that was happening between them. He gritted his teeth as he felt his sac slowly bloating, something that he had never felt before. For that matter, he had never felt anything down there this strongly. He had always been more intent on the other sensations going through him, not the same things that young men felt as they grew up.

"Ah...ah..."

The churning was filling him with different sensations, different needs, hundreds upon hundreds of distracting images. The lust that burned up from his growing sac was something that made him think of all the stories that he had heard in the monastery about the temptations of the flesh, but there was nothing of that here. He did not think of the softness of women, or the way that their bodies could be tempting to him. He did not think of the indulgences of the flesh that would allow him to spill his seedin them, or allow him to feel something of power.

No, he felt...he felt something inside him, something that ached to be touched. He felt something that wanted to feel something big rubbing over it, felt like there was a need, a hunger under his growing tail and between his swelling cheeks. He was already too big to be able to reach back and feel it easily, but something told him that his new master would be more than willing to give him a crash course on that later.

The nameless gecko stared down at the floor, gasping for breath as his thick hips wobbled. The transformation continued down his legs, keeping them lean, lithe, leaving him with a slightly chubby stomach and a curvy pair of hips. He was lithe, feminine, but still quite masculine with the parts in front of him. As his sac continued to grow, almost sagging down to the floor, his shaft took on some growth, as well. It was less, almost meager compared to what was happening with his testicles, but it was still something, keeping the parts down there from looking too out of proportion with one another.

As his toes curled, he felt his tails start to grow out, curling into soft claws. Not the sort to rip and tear, but rather the sort that would allow him to grip, to grasp, to hold onto things and keep them from sliding away from him. He imagined using them to climb the walls, and he realized that that felt doable, despite all the changes that had made him more sexual in his middle.

"Is this...is this what you want, Master?" he whispered. "A...toy? I will...do that if you...ask..."

[i]I don't want that. Or...not just that...maybe a bit of that...[/i]

"Master?"

[i]I'm still...figuring that part out. But I still want you to be able to move. I just want you to look like the part of you deep within, the part of you that had been waiting to come out. The part of you that was still good.[/i]

"I'm...good."

And as he said it, he felt that it was right. Maybe it was because he'd shed his rage and everything else already, leaving it in the shackles like some beast that was no longer welcome in his body, but it felt [i]right.[/i] He smiled to himself, feeling the slow growth of more dexterous toes, his fingers doing the same as they grew out a bit longer. Not quite creepy, but a little silly and different. He lifted his hands, looking at them with fascination.

The changes had reached his head, finally, and as they went up, he felt his ears pull in. For a moment, he was completely deaf, and then the sides of his head opened slightly, giving him ear-holes instead. They were not quite the same, giving him different qualities to the sounds around him, but it was hearing, and that was all that mattered.

As the scales went up along the sides of his neck to his face, it was weird to feel his mouth and nose pulling together and pushing out, but not quite as weird as the subtle growth to his eyeballs. He gritted his teeth even as they changed, trying to focus through the constrained feeling in his eye-sockets before the rest of his face started to change to match what was happening. His vision watered for a minute, then stopped, leaving him with more vision, more broad view of the world around him.

[i]Do you like it?[/i] the voice asked.

"It's...weird..."

[i]But do you like it?[/i]

"I think so..."

It wasn't what he had been born with, not by a long shot, but it was something that he believed that he could work with, something that he could be happy in. The growth down below seemed to have stopped, and he was able to slowly rise, getting to his feet and stretching out a little bit. His scales felt like they slid around more, giving him flexibility rather than feeling quite so tight as his other body had sometimes done.

"Master? What should I do?" he asked.

[i]Go to the end of your path. Yours is the shortest, and you should reach the end before the others.[/i]

"Will I see you there?"

[i]When this is done, yes.[/i]

"What should I do?"

[i]When the others come through, help them see what you have done, and what you have become. If you can, tell them what you believe, and why you think this was the right choice.[/i]

He nodded. He didn't know what to call himself just yet, but he knew that he had made the right choice. He was [i]good[/i] now, and that meant that he had made the right choice for himself, and for his future. Smiling about as wide as a gecko could, he set off at a run. It was the easiest run that he had ever done.

#

Audron had known that the monk would be the easiest of the four, but he hadn't realized that it would be that easy, or that the monk had been carrying that much inside of him for that long. He looked through the scrying spell at the crimson thing that still howled away in the chains, and he wondered what in the world he was going to do with that monster.

"Master?"

The kobolds down below were still busy, still working his cock, but he did his best to look down without blushing. He only half-succeeded, considering the pair of them were kneeling between his legs and both had a hand on his dick at the same time. The male was actually standing up, grinding their cocks together completely casually, completely idly, and it took Audron more than he wanted to admit to actually keep from blushing.

"Yes?"

"You like new person?"

"I think that he's going to be a good guy to have around."

"He look sad."

"He was. I'm hoping that he'll be better now."

That had been a spell investment and a half, though. Actually coming up with something that would allow someone else to just ditch a harmful part of their psyche had been difficult to come up with, particularly with all the consequences that usually came from that. When it came right down to it, he'd ended up having to ghost the monk's spirit right out of his body, leaving it to be corrupted and warped by the rage that was left behind, and then give him a brand new thing. It was somewhere between reincarnation and transformation, and he honestly wasn't sure if it was going to work until it was over. He was just glad that he'd gotten it right.

And a little proud of himself, too, to be fair. That was not a simple piece of magic, and he'd gotten it right when he was pretty damn sure that most of his uncles and cousins would have gotten it wrong.

Of course, that was the easiest of the four party members. There were still the half-sold - Olfel and Kyo'Thar - and the one that was fighting it harder than all the others. He'd had to pull the kobolds back from the third room when Viola tried to lash out at them for 'cheating', as she called it, and she'd been in a blind panic.

[i]She knows that there's something waiting for her that she's not ready for.[/i] Audron didn't know where this deep, sad-wisdom feeling was coming from, but at the same time, he knew it was right. [i]She's going to fight tooth and nail to stay the same, and that's just not going to work out well for her in the long term.[/i]

He was pretty sure that he was going to win against her, particularly with all the tricks and tips that Raithir had given him, but he had to stay on his game. If he started getting distracted, if he started taking it for granted, then the team could still flip the script on him. All it took was one of them coming through and deciding not to go with his offer and he would be back to the beginning. He had to get this right, and he had to get it right the first time.

For now, though, he had time. Viola had the most combat rooms and puzzle rooms ahead of her, which would keep her busy while he focused on the other, slightly more convinced pair. He just needed to figure out if he wanted to focus on the exhibitionistic orc first, or the voyeuristic dwarf.

Decisions, decisions.

[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]

Summary: Red-Arms makes the first charge into the dungeon, and finds a happy surprise waiting for him.

Tags: M/solo, transformation, bondage, freedom, cock growth, ass growth, ball growth, dungeon, species change, human, gecko, dragon, kobold, masturbation, magic, series,