{"sf1_id":null,"sf2_id":"eq52RyGe","title":"Emberborne","author":"Varien Quill","words":14884,"posted_at":"2026-01-11T19:50:38.000Z","tags":["commission","dragon","dragoness","embrio","female","hatchling","pregnancy","pussy","story","surrogate","unbirth"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/eq52RyGe-emberborne","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/eq52RyGe","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"Commission for anon, still accepting commissions  \nStory bout dragoness Ashton who volunteers to be surrogate of the dragon egg, starting with scene at the clinic. She is full of doubt about the process and will continue to build trust for the egg itself, not knowing how deeply sexual the connection will become.","content":"clenched and caused the plug resting between them to move. Wet noise accompanied her,  \nvibrations sent by the fleshless walls surrounding the egg rocking her and creating a slick  \nmess on her lap and the floor. The liquid was nearly dark in her shade, less fertile, however,  \nher vagina and anal muscles still clasped hungrily, although an nonexistent penis would take  \nher this evening.  \nDespite being an alien object, her motherly instincts protected the intruder, and her  \negg-sitting became essential, although painful and straining. To say the truth, her desires  \nwere solely filled with a need for sexual gratification, and that is what usually happened. Like  \nan animal, she did the same: crawled slowly on all four, undulated her spine and abdomen,  \nreleasing sensual roars after each tremor of orgasm, so intense that it made her whine and  \npush her round ass upwards. Sometimes these fits were dangerous and sometimes not;  \neither way, the reptilian females who lived in the lands and caves did not choose their mates  \nfor their lifetime.  \n\"It's okay, Miss Ashton. It's almost over.\"  \nThe dragoness sighed, slightly disappointed, and her arms shook lightly. With no reason, the  \ntears rolled off her scales, dropping slush into the puddle already formed under her claw  \ntoes. Restrained her, was the urge to masturbate, and the hand reaching and touching her  \nintimate, caressed her slit, sending pleasure rushes to her brain. Frustrating was this, the  \nlack of relief, the unending bliss, and yet the longing kept her arousal alive and the climax far,  \nfar away. Until the fluids leaked thoroughly onto the floor, making the grip harder, and the  \nfingers sank deeper, pulling the hood, massaging the swollen node, sliding two digits swiftly  \nacross the labia, diving and opening, widening the entrance. Yes, always remained the  \nburning sensation, scorching her needs, boiling her urges.  \nBefore she lost consciousness, she only whispered.  \n\"I'm a mother now.\"  \n\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*  \n\"You can be a mother too!\"  \nA ridiculous pamphlet lay in front of her while waiting for the procedure in the sterile office,  \nand the thought of a mishap occurred. Soon, a short, middle-aged woman entered, looking  \nat the notice and showing a weak smile.  \n\"Miss Ashton. First, the contract should be signed. Secondly, the preparation.\"  \nAshton clumsily stood up from the several chairs placed together, which were hardly  \ncomfortable, yet big enough not to worry, they could not hold her huge weight. She still  \nwasn't sure about the whole procedure, but she remembered what that pamphlet said.  \nSave civilization.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nOf course, humanity was fine, despite all its hardships throughout the ages. It was the  \ndragon population that was cut very low by extinction, famine, wars, and diseases. At this  \npoint, the one individual mating organ couldn't generate enough fertilized seedsedsIn  \naddition, it seemed, the humans were doing everything right, breeding for no reason  \nwhatsoever, and yet dragons... weren't. Something needed to be done, therefore artificial  \nbirth method took place, as there were no natural materials capable of containing the egg  \nshells. Additionally, the shells were thick and were used for many years; living in the wild  \nwas often easy, andthusu,, raising domestic animals was the main occupation. This was also  \nthe case with her grandmother.  \n\"So, the operation will not seriously damage my health, especially internally?\" She blurted.  \n\"Let's try not to ponder too much. I'm a professional, and besides, my hands aren't feeble;  \nwe've had enough of your kind through our clinic, successfully.\"  \nMiss Ashton grunted nervously, then went back and sat down. Suddenly, the situation  \nlooked bleak and hostile, without any possibility of a solution, but the mere effort gave her  \nhope. More trust in her, and he continued. \"Well, since you saw a picture on the pamphlet,  \nlet me brief you a little more. One capsule usually contains half a half-sized dragon fetus.  \nAfter hatching, the hatchling feeds on the residual protein left within the shell, which lasts  \naround a week or two, depending on the speed of growth. After the shell is consumed, the  \nnutrient is required for a female nursing.\" She heard rumors, among her tribes and villages,  \ntales about an unimaginably delicious taste, the rich texture, the creamy consistency, and  \nlater the unique flavor. Raw or cooked, the females were craving consumption, especially the  \nmothers. Indeed, her eyes sparkled brightly, at the simple imagining, the tip of the tongue  \nlicked her teeth, and her sharp incisors bit the air.  \nWhile the doctor continued, the dragon's mind daydreamed, thinking of a great number, as  \nit was likely to contain a couple of litters annually. Surrogates were asked to volunteer  \nbecause the chance of repeating the successful process wasn't available; it happened once,  \nmaybe not twice. Therefore, t,he application program was complex, rigorous, and long.  \n\"Miss Ashton? Do you understand? I'm explaining to you all the risks and side effects.\" He  \nsounded serious.  \nBut she didn't want to listen anymore, wanting to have a child already. Who cares about a  \nfew inconveniences? Even if she would lose some of her scales, or horns, or tail, or god  \nknows what, it didn't matter to her. Deep down, her dreams began arising, fantasizing about  \nher own kid, adorable and curious, energetic and mischievous, smart and graceful. Growing  \nup tough and free, I became strong and prosperous. Moreover, the dream was her's alone,  \nthe fantasy hers. She finally nodded and yawned. Exhaustion was about taking her. The doc  \nled her outside, her gown rustled, and her legs barely carried her anywhere. Once the\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nexamination table was encountered, the patient positioned herself comfortably and closed  \nher wings and eyes.  \n\"Go away. I'm sleepy.\" Ashton coughed silently.  \n\"I will begin the infusion and sedative mechanism, currently lying would only paralyze you  \ntemporarily. Make yourself ready.\"  \nWhat was the sense, having full control over her arms and legs wouldn't allow her to move  \nanyway. Was everything going according to plan? Probably, she had seen the surgical tools,  \nand the doctors outdid themselves creating such fine equipment. Or maybe someone did  \nthem justice, and could be called a close partner, rather than a skilled worker.  \n\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*  \n\"What a realistic dream.\"  \nBut was it? During her slumber, she recalled everything which happened merely a few  \nmonths ago at the clinic. Every information, detail, and observation.  \n\"Seems like things got...worse\"  \nDays and days she rested, fighting her fever, recovering from surgery, never gaining sight,  \nand nearly starving. Well, at least her house was well built, and the basement wasn't too  \ncold. Her nest was buried deep underground, underneath her comforter hammock. Mounds  \nupon mounds piled into smooth and soft, leaving a circular-shaped bed on the floor, covered  \nin golden straws, plush pillows, and musky cushions. Dragons were not accustomed to sitting  \nthrough. Hencec, the whole basement had no furniture, a waste, would it be. Without the  \nability to see clearly or even walk with slight pressure, the house was transformed into a  \nprison, and the small animal meabecame t became a regular diet. Plus, the constant dripping  \nsound. How annoying! However, her scent glands were active, rubbing against walls, soaking  \nthem with lavender oils, the good spirits would come soon and wipe her worries away. For a  \nminute or two.  \nHer condition did not change for three weeksekstime was not tangible, nor could the  \nphysical body be focused on, healing was endless, and progress was delayed. Everything was  \nblurred or darkened. Her senses were dull, otherworldly, nonsensical, except for hearing,  \nwhere subtle sounds echoed wonderfully. Eating was a pleasant exercise, though a bit  \nmessy; her jaw was strong and held the food properly. All her remaining limbs and claws  \nwere useful, not too much and not too less. Furthermore, something odd had happened;  \nher imagination amplified, being capable of seeing pictures and colors without the aid of  \nlight. Reality and fiction entangle seamlessly, easily blended, confusing the perspective. She  \nremembered only small fragments from the past, and gradually the memories expanded and  \ngained details, emotions, reflections, and awareness. Besides, she found the shape of her  \nswollen belly, glowing unquestionably, and how heavy the water bottle felt. Did the real\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nworld still exist? Would the egg leave its capsule and expand its limits beyond until the end  \nof the universe?  \nBut one day, things had taken an unexpected turn.  \nWhat if she doesn't want to be a mother? Will her village ignore her and not care, and her  \nfriends and family consider the young offspring a problem? But none came. Because the  \nsilence itself was worth more than the talk, nothing beat solitude. Nothing except love, or  \nwas it apathy? Was she truly despised, or was the isolation itself self-imposed? Loneliness  \ncould be cruel; it destroyed the weak and reshaped the strong, or shattered and created  \nnew life. What exactly had happened was fuzzy; her tail flickered frantically, unable to hold  \nemotion, and her wings moved gently, relaxing. Still, her nest was comforting, its organic  \nframe embraced her, protecting, making her skin grow thick hairs, keeping the scalding heat  \ninside. In the same mannerthe environment nourished her, delivering fresh herbs and  \nflowers during nighttime, preserving salty and roasted meat, gathering iron and silver  \nmetals. If we could call them silver, otherwise their true names didn't carry through.  \nThen, her muscles contracted involuntarily. Was it happening? But it was way too soon! As if  \nthe child had heard her thoughts, it tried to escape. But stopped and waited for reassurance.  \nBreathless, her claws tightened, an instinctive action, and her feet squirmed. Just one push,  \nand the baby would kick its way through and free the womb. Soon, t, he plug pushed its way  \nout from her slit, followed by liquid that was wasted fast. Until the last drop, and the very  \nfirst cracks shone above the entrance. Again, the muscle spasms began and grew stronger,  \nreaching their peak, the head and chest of the hatchling could be observed, struggling and  \ngrunting, squeezing her vaginal canal.  \n\"Please, not yet...\" She started. But what if... she wanted this? Like in every story, when the  \ndragon mates and turns pregnant, their destiny becomes apparent. Also, her initial  \nagreement helped form the solution, or was it about shaping the issues? The egg continued  \nits journey, as if it deemed the surrogate not worthy of its time. And the woman allowed her  \nwomb to do its job, and the egg passed smoothly. With sudden disgust, the sliminess sent a  \nchill throughout her, waking her up from the catatonic stupor.  \nOnce again, her instincts kicked i,n and her hands grabbed the slippery ooze, forcing her to  \nstay inside. This was not a dream, but real life, painful and intense, drenched in hot sweat  \nand bodily fluids. Not the most poetic of all descriptions, the main event, although vulgar  \nand uncivil, became a vision of beauty. It took half an hour before her cunt deflated slowly.  \nFurious was her joy, unable to speak, the words would fall flat. Finally, the thought occurred.  \nI can't let it go.  \nThen, an oval-shaped object rolled away, hitting the floor, disturbing the quiet atmosphere.  \nMiss Ashton barely noticed her pussy retracting and the bulge shrinking, nor the sensation  \nof emptiness. Slowly, the world had gone upside down and ceased to make sense. She\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nexhaled deeply and looked blankly, with her jaw unhinged. Minutes might have passed,  \nmaybe hours, while she stared at her unhatched child. The dragoness didn't realize that only  \nmere seconds after it left her canal, her motherly instincts, the same ones she thought were  \nnon-existent, suddenly kicked in.  \nI can't let it go!  \nPanting hard, she picked up her baby, her sweet child, with her claws, noticing it was still  \nwet. The egg smell filled the nostrils,, and her maternal concern overrode anything else. It is  \nsafe and well, and most importantly is mine! But it wasn't ready to come out of the shell, not  \nfor weeks if not months. What should she do? Thinking fast, the only reasonable but also  \nsimultaneously insane thing she could do was to... put it back?  \n\"It's okay. You should sleep a little longer...\" Ashton whispered, carefully placing the egg  \nagainst her folds. Her arousal kicked, faster this time, readying her pussy, even in this  \nsituation, her hormones were off the charts. She grunted nervously. Had she any second  \nchance? Oh, don't think like that, her internal voice chided her. With the help of her thumbs,  \nshe spread her vulva and plunged the egg deeper, slowly letting gravity aid the process.  \nThere were no regrets, maybe a shudder of orgasm or a touch of remorse. She never  \ndoubted her decision; a dragoness ought to preserve the species.  \nThe dragon noticed how surprisingly easy it was to slide the huge bulk of egg, moving in her  \nheated cave, her contractions rocked the fluid remains steadily, soothing the feeling. The  \nsecond attempt was painless; the egg sucked in her soft parts, fitting snugly, almost slipping  \nout, but gaining the correct angle, her vagina's walls clamped and encircled the opening. Her  \nwomb, tight and full, gave the impression, the embryo grew. Perhaps a hallucination?  \nDragoness sighed. Both relief and satisfaction coursed through her. From now on, every  \nmovement, any minor shift, was enough. Even the mildest hunch sent the raw waves of  \nrapture, and her heartbeat grew louder. Tugging and pulling her insides, dragging the  \nsensitive organs, her esophagus crushing the tiny vessel.  \nNo. No. NO!  \nRelax. Deep breaths. Soon,, the tremors returned, and the pain followed suit. So far, so good.  \nThe pressure on the cervix indicated a rapid growth, and her thighs shivered and arched with  \nstrain.  \nThis shouldn't.  \nWhen did the air start to dry? With long draws, her lungs absorbed oxygen, trying to ease  \nher labor. Despite knowing the truth, Miss Ashton had resigned, wishing the mind would  \nclear and rationality would return. Weird, the last weeks were just the same, blurry, dark,  \ndifficult, not counting the daily panic attacks. Not long ago, the incubation period was the  \nusual one; the actual birth could have been predicted and prevented. Of course, they lived in\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nthe wild, and those things may happen or be changed. While thinking, the wall was  \nstretching and squeezing the growing creature.  \nBecause the surrogate had no idea what kind of dragon was developing, and, without light,  \ncould see absolutely nothing. One detail was obvious: this was not the same some three  \nmonths ago, and whether her guts or bowels were going to burst, giving her a chance at  \nleast to pick up her child and care, wasn't near, wouldn't be anytime soon. I need to stop...  \nSomehow, between delirium and agony, the dragon found the place and meant it; it hurt  \nher deeply, causing her horns and her soul to ache. Nevertheless, stubbornly determined,  \nshe pressed her fingers in, holding, making herself fully empty, waiting, expecting the  \nresults, not exactly hoping.  \n\"Sleep well, dear child...\" she whispered, before succumbing to slumber, hoping it all went  \nwell.  \n\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*  \n\"I need water...\"  \nHer cavern saw better days. Its usually sparkling scales were dull and greasy, the clawtips  \nwere worn, and her fleshy holes were gaping widely. Fortunately, few people came close,  \nand dragons seldom enter, regardless of the tribe or order. They were fierce creatures, a  \npowerful force, hardly beatable. Besides being an exile, wit is simply a formality. Few visits  \nwere permitted, each having a purpose. Nonetheless, there was a hole to get rid of waste,  \nthe stairs were still firm, and the rest was a matter of illusion.  \nOh, how ugly the reality was.  \nFor the last three months,, her stomach's size increased again. Each week, a considerable  \namount, and because the nutrients were already utilized, her metabolism sped up, speeding  \nher pregnancy too. More muscular, rather than blobby, the dragon could feel it, feeding her  \nbloodstream How could her body keep living normally? Then, the answer came. Of course,  \nenergy wasn't provided by fat or simple foods, but motherhood brought the surge. Sufficient  \nwas a lot of fruit, a bucket of meat, and milk. Otherworldly strength, her teeth chewed  \nceaselessly, and her tongue licked furiously, ingesting pure happiness. However, sleeping was  \nenjoyable as well, and besides the nausea or the random cramps, everything was fine.  \nShe approached the sizeable bucket, lying near the exit, scooped a pawful, and drank her fill.  \nAfterward,she craving arose, the unbearable desire, urging the dragon towards her most  \ncomfortable spot. Her breath was faster, the claws rubbed against the door frame, and her  \nhips bucked, looking forward to the pleasure. Even her pouty lipss glistened and bulged.  \nQuickly, the beast had assumed the position, the stance, on her four legs, facing the crude  \nwall, and her tail curled above her waist, revealing the intimacy.  \nYes. Now. More. Fill me.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nA moan escaped her mouth, and a guttural whine. Later, she would laugh hysterically. When  \nthey thought it was bad, they were ignorant. Thoughsometimes a strong, pulsating ache, her  \nbrain, and when her imagination had more presence than the fantasy or the hunger itself.  \nNo problem, not her problem. She was hot; her heat overpowered the surroundings, not  \nhelping, probably intensifying the urgency. Then, the image, the fantastic image, had  \nsurfaced. In a swift motion her large, manicured digits closed around her slit. One push and  \nit went through. Simple and direct, only the sensation wasn't. She barely touched the  \nsurface, almost inside, the heat radiated wonderfully, and a layer of sweat appeared.  \nAnother push and her flesh disappeared, submerged beneath the vaginal aperture. The  \nsudden arousal seized her body, engulfing the mind, and her voice fell silent, and her vocal  \ncords too.  \nJust a little bit.  \nPerhaps, the inner world had stopped, maybe the entire place was shaken and broke apart;  \nnevertheless, once her pussy twitched, the fire burned everything. An explosive orgasm, an  \nearth-shattering explosion, neither the other worlds collided, nor was she burnt, nor was  \nshe alive. A strong shiver woke her; the bliss and pain were impossible to remember, a very  \nlong sequence, endless and immeasurable, destroying logic andd her sanity, evaporating the  \nfear and shame.  \n\"Wait... is that...?\"  \nShe noticed a small bulge inside her belly, slowly moving around like a snake. The horror and  \nsatisfaction were rising fast, and then it dawned upon her. Yes, the cycle had started,, and  \nthe hormones and needs were awakened again. Meanwhile, her free paw caressed her  \nround and huge belly, taking comfort and reassurance, her instinct kicking in, this time  \nprotective, caring, warm, and a touch aggressive. Thankfully, dragonswere a pragmatic lot;  \ntheir concerns weren't trivial, their ideas weren't paltry. Their minds focused on survival,  \ntheir actions reflecting their ideals. Especially now, the young need shelter and peace. She  \nshould not yell or kick, yet give a sound blow or a hearty meal.  \nKnowing well, it was just the beginning of its journey, still not ready to emerge from her  \norifice. But how should she feed it? While she pondered, the hatchling had to eat anything  \nwithin its range. And what was the nearest thing to gnaw on? Of course, the nutritious egg  \nshells, those broken and jagged pieces, are conveniently plentiful. Only a few weak patches,  \nand the gelatinous substance dripped gradually, absorbing into the organism. An intriguing  \nway, a thrilling adventure, a life-changing process, the next chapter to discover. The tiny  \ncreature got busy, focusing solely on the new activity. If the parents wereaware, none would  \nreact swiftly or properly, and the events unfolded.  \nAshton felt something chewing and pulling the deepest folds, before realizing her son was  \nawake and hungry. Yet, a mixture of panic and excitement overwhelmed hr, the moment her\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nvagina was penetrated, and her tummy was tapped. It was a wave or a continuous shudder.  \nRegardless, the child sucked joyfully and consumed heartily, eager and delighted. Oh, not  \nthe worst of all, not the best. Such enthusiasm, could her spirit lift higher, could her muscles  \ntear and guts rip. But nothing so gruesome happened at all. Instead, the tiny creature, her  \nchild, continued devouring the emptiness.  \n\"Ooooooo...\"  \nEggshells tasted marvelously. The baby licked hungrily, or was more sucking, its belly was  \nswelling enormously. Soon,, an unpleasant feeling, or the notion, grew stronger and the  \nmom's groans louder. Like an elixir or magic potion, the half-liquid and another tough,  \nsimilar to jelly, contained unbelievable power and nutrients. Although delicious and  \nenergizing, the meal was tricky or complicated. The hatchling filled, the infant had eaten  \nuntil bursting, and after the good sleep, or the happy snooze, the newborn still grew longer.  \nEvery bite and nibble affected the host greatly. He was satisfied and whole, and his mood  \nimproved vastly. Little did he know, she experienced the effects, possibly even greater and  \nmightier. Hardly ten minutes had passed and,, the skin stretched considerably. Once a silky,  \nscarred, and perfectly fit, tight wombhad seen better days. Rashness is not true. Then, why  \nwas everything wet and juicy, and a slime, mucus, or simply the lubricant, formed a  \ntransparent film? He bit her jaw and grunted. Never had the dragon feared or suffered.  \nFrom the very beginning, the world had no meaning and, more importantly, no essence. A  \nbeautiful lie, or a wonderful nightmare, and although she had not conceived the second  \npossibility, there were moments like these, the visions, the vagueness,, and emptiness.  \nInstead of returning to slumber, the hatchling flailed a bit and was promptly scolded. To be  \nfair, the words were soft and fond. Another five minutes passed. The silence did not bother  \nher, nor his heavy breathing, no r nor the warm atmosphere. She could deal with the extra  \nweight and length. Hush, settle down, your meal is alright, but slow. Maybe it was enough  \nfor the day. Later, there would be plenty of time. As the baby listened and obeyed, and  \nstopped growing, and grazing her uterine walls, the mother sighed. Tired, she squirmed and  \nsettled. Finally, able to stretch her limbs.  \nWhat an inconvenience!  \nOh, hopefully, the contractions would take longer. Just a breath and courage, here comes the  \ndifficulty. Clamping or relaxing her abdominal muscles wasn't difficult or dangerous if done  \ncarefully. Should she call him, or would it sound too odd? With her forepaw, the dragon  \nwould brush her oversized mound and admire the work. Was it wrong or strange? Probably  \na fetish, or kink, or a unique hobby. Either way, what else could bring her a measure of pride,  \nor give her hope? For the little one, capable of forming and dreaming of their future. Unlike  \nthe adults, who were stuck in the past, unable to deal with the present. Except, or  \nspecifically because, they did their chores, took their responsibilitiesand had no alternative.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nMoments later, the bulge twitched and inflated, as if the child became restless. So innocent,  \nand easy. Her senses sharpened. Every drop or shift was registered and recorded instantly.  \nThose weren't serious, maybe its head or paw would block her throat. Everything should go  \nsmoothly. Deep and controlled breaths. Okay, don't worry and carry on. Still, there is a  \nchance, and any event or emotion, regardless of merit, dedeservesheir place. Rather, the  \nidea. They happen over and over again. What else was the existence, what else the  \nconsciousness?s. Is the world an entity or the soul a void?  \nAgain the body moved. Twice the normal temperature and the heartbeat staccato. She  \ngulped. Perhaps, only the nervousness created such a perception, and the problem was not  \nhers. Inside the cozy, and nicely smelling, underground abode, the young male had been  \ninactive. Could not resist any longer, unable to sleep, and the tiny form wiggled back and  \nforth. Gathering the leftovers, r searching for a convenient position. Sitting waa torture.  \nThen, it went quiet.  \nIt seemed the hatchling was finally going to snooze. Good, by morning, his stomach would  \nlikely growl. Before, the sweet and cute noises were deceptive, misleading. During her  \npregnancy, they led to certain thoughts and feelings. Yes, while walking, shopping, or eating,  \nif only the baby had responded, every minute would have been possible. Now was not the  \ntime. Keep focused. Meanwhile, the mother swallowed hard, knowing the consequences,  \nwaiting impatiently, hoping her intestines would stop grumbling. At least, the scales did not  \npeel, and the udders worked steadily, helping to calm her, placating the thirst.  \nShe slowly rubbed the bulge, admiring the firmness, and her claws glided along the curvy  \nlines, feeling the warmth and pressure. Without a doubt, the young were energetic. Oh, her  \ntummy budged so suddenly. Despite the aches or mild sufferings, she had no regrets and  \nhad not shed a tear. Neither the dragons expressed their emotions, nor did humanoids  \nunderstand their needs. However, being alone made more sense than solitude. Besides,  \nMiss Ashton cared less about friends and foes, and family wasn't even part of her  \nvocabulary. In fact, since learning the sex, the only concern was his health.  \nDid it just snore?  \nHer mind kept filling, and the female observed the steady growth, the gradual change, or the  \nappearance of the contour. Amazingly, the eggshells expanded the digestive system, allowing  \nthe small creature to ingest whatever was available. Like the adult, her organism became  \nflexible and omnivorous, easily absorbing or assimilating different properties. Or, perhaps,  \nthe inner lining of the female body. Slowly, but surely, transforming the internal organs. How  \npleasant would it be to feel the life teeming thin in e theepths. Anyway, the womb contained  \na variety and amount that dwarfed the needy taste. On and off, the scales tingled, the  \nnipples hardened, and every muscle clenched, sending ripples and vibrations.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nHad she any leverage or choice, it was highly unlikely. No will or desire remained. One day  \nand an ordinary task. The dragon stumbled upon this miracle, unwilling or neglectful, and  \nwas probably unaware. Just for the brief, insignificant moment, her brain cranked, ignoring  \nthe rhythm and the sensuality. She breathed deeply, losing the track, and a dull pain cut the  \nblissful pleasure. Too much thinking, too many notions. Eventually, the eyes closed, and the  \nmouth fell open.  \nWho knew that pregnancy would be so exhausting?  \nWhile slowly drifting to slumber, she kept massaging her belly, the constant tenderness.  \nFrom the top and bottom, firmly pressing her palm. To the point her joints were stiff, the  \nknuckles sore. Oh, how her digits shook and burned, while her elbows refused the  \nmovement. Though the rough, scaled surface protected her from the consequences. Her last  \nconscious act, soothing the clitoris or the scrotum, stretching her engorged and reddish skin.  \nShame, those won't dry soon. And until the time was suitable, the fluids wouldn't clot either.  \n\"Good night...\" she whispered, despite it being morning. Carefully not to accidentally lie on  \nher belly, the beast allowed herself a long nap, something easier said than done. Not an  \nounce or tons, and not all four legs, her sleeping posture had changed. A splayed, bent  \ndragon's leg, an open spread, the rest lay straight or cocked. The hatchling wasn't a  \nnewborn, yet not fully developed. In short, the body was not complete, and the tail and  \nwings weren't functional. But at least his teeth and claws could cut and dig.  \nThe sun's rays flickered, and the shadows danced.\n\n\"You've gotten so big lately...\" she whispered, rubbing her claws along her abdomen, trying  \nto caress her growing belly. It had gotten exceptionally large, as if it tried its best to make a  \nbetter home for the hatchling who wasn't allowed to leave just yet. She'd become quite  \nattached to the feeling of him inside her, the constant movement, the subtle shifts beneath  \nher scales. It was a strange, intoxicating sensation she couldn't bring herself to give up just  \nyet. It had become a secret indulgence, a guilty pleasure that she nurtured with each passing  \nday.  \nShe often found herself lying on her back, a position that was becoming increasingly difficult,  \njust to watch the spectacle within her. The way her belly would warp and shift as the  \nhatchling turned and stretched was mesmerizing. It was like watching a living sculpture form  \nand reform beneath her skin. She would drag a single claw across the taut surface, a slow,  \ndeliberate line from her chest to her hips, and watch as the hatchling inside would follow the  \nstrange sensation, nudging and pressing against the path she traced.  \nA smile, rare and genuine, spread across her snout as she began a new game. A gentle poke  \njust below her sternum. A moment of stillness, then a firm nudge from within, pressing back  \nagainst her claw. She moved her claw to the left, pressing against her side. The hatchling  \nshifted, a bulge moving beneath her scales as it repositioned to nudge her new spot. Back to  \nthe right. Another internal shuffle. She spent hours like this, a silent, one-sided game of tag  \nbetween mother and child, her breath hitching each time the hatchling responded with  \nsurprising strength. The discomfort was a small price to pay for the thrill of this secret  \nconnection, this power she held over the life within her.  \nBut the games had their consequences.  \nHer indulgence had created a demanding child. One evening, after a particularly long play  \nsession, she had rested her claw on the spot where she could feel the hatchling's head, a  \ngentle, affectionate pat. The response was immediate and insistent. A series of forceful  \nnudges, more demanding than playful. She pulled her claw away, and the movement inside  \nher became frantic, a storm of shifting limbs and powerful pushes against her walls. It was a  \nclear demand: more.  \nA soft growl rumbled in her chest, a sound she directed inward. The hatchling responded in  \nkind, a series of sharp, agitated kicks that made her wince. With a sigh of resignation, she  \nreturned her claw to her belly, rubbing slow circles where she imagined the hatchling's head  \nto be. The frantic movements ceased, replaced by a contented purr she could feel more than  \nhear, a deep vibration that resonated through her entire being. She had accidentally created  \na spoiled, attention-seeking hatchling, and she, the unwitting doting mother, was entirely to  \nblame.  \nHer days became a struggle of logistics.  \nBecause of a high demand, dragoness had to prepare her meals accordingly, needing more  \nsustenance than ever before. She would often pause mid-chew, her belly giving a violent  \nlurch as the hatchling kicked with the enthusiasm of a much larger beast. Her massive frame  \nwould sway with the impact, her claws scrabbling for purchase on the stone floor. She simply  \ntook another bite and chewed more slowly. This was the price of her enjoyment.  \nWalking was an ordeal. Her belly, now so large it scraped against the ground with every step,  \nswung beneath her like a pendulum. The movement was no longer a gentle sway but a  \nheavy, cumbersome lurch. Each step sent ripples through the taut skin of her abdomen, the  \nmomentum causing the hatchling inside to shift and roll, which in turn caused her belly to  \nswing even more dramatically. She had to walk with a wider stance, her hind legs splayed to  \naccommodate the sheer width of her burden, which was now visible on either side of her  \nnarrow hips. It was a constant, jarring reminder of how long she had let this go on.  \nBut the moments of quiet admiration made it all worthwhile. Lying on her back, a precarious  \nbalance she could only hold for a few minutes at a time, she would simply breathe and  \nwatch. The light in her cave would catch the subtle contours shifting beneath her scales. A  \nsnout would press out, creating a defined, draconic bulge. A leg would stretch, a long, thin  \nridge that traveled from one side of her belly to the other. It was a private show, and she was  \nthe only audience member. She knew, with a rational part of her mind that was growing  \nquieter by the day, that she should have birthed this hatchling long ago. The strain on her  \nbody was immense. But the visual thrill, the feeling of being so utterly full of life, was an  \naddiction she couldn't break.  \nOne night, the peace was shattered. A sudden, intense pressure built inside her, unlike  \nanything before. It wasn't a kick or a nudge, but a concerted, full-body effort. Her belly didn't  \njust shift; it began to visibly stretch, the scales pulling apart as the hatchling tried to unfold  \nfrom its fetal position. It was trying to hatch from its living egg. A sharp, alarming pain shot  \nthrough her abdomen as the skin reached its limit. Just as she feared it would tear, the  \nincredible tightness of her womb forced the hatchling back into its compact curl. The  \nswelling subsided, leaving her panting, her claws digging into the stone floor. The game, she  \nrealized with a jolt of both fear and exhilaration, was becoming dangerous.  \n\"Not yet. Please, not yet...\"  \n\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*  \n\"Such a feast of kings. Who knew I would actually enjoy such gluttony...\" Miss Ashton licked  \nher chops, her belly growling with a deeper, more resonant sound than her own. The cavern  \nwas filled with the scent of roasted meats and sweet, pulpy fruits. She had outdone herself.  \nA massive boar, its hide crackling with fat, sat on a bed of coals, surrounded by piles of  \nglistening, dark purple berries and the strange, luminous fungi that grew deep within the  \nmountain. It was a banquet for a dragon twice the size of a horse, and her body's new,  \nvoracious appetite demanded it all. She tore into the boar, her powerful jaws crushing bone  \nand sinew with equal ease. As she ate, her belly began to gurgle and churn, and soon, the  \nfamiliar, powerful lurch came from within. The hatchling was hungry, and it was shoving  \nagainst her walls with a force that made her entire frame sway.  \n\"Patience, little one. Your turn is coming,\" she rumbled, swallowing a huge chunk of meat.  \nShe ate until she could eat no more, her belly feeling impossibly tight, stretched to its  \nabsolute limit by the combination of her meal and her ever-growing child. She slumped to  \nthe floor, groaning with a mixture of satisfaction and discomfort, her massive abdomen  \nresting heavily on the cool stone.  \nAs she lay there, digesting, she decided to play their usual game. With a lazy claw, she poked  \nthe side of her belly, just above her hip. Instead of the usual playful nudge, she received a  \nviolent kick that nearly lifted her hindquarters off the ground. She grunted, the impact  \nsending a jolt through her. Undeterred, she tried again, this time on the opposite side. The  \nhatchling shifted, its entire body rolling within her, creating a breathtaking spectacle of  \nshifting bulges and warping scales. Her breath hitched. Even through the pain, the sight was  \ncaptivating.  \nBut the fun had to end someday.  \n\"I'm scared...\" she whispered to herself with a sudden mood shift. Just moments ago, she  \ncouldn't feel happier during the feast, but now an unexplainable anxiety crept into her mind.  \nThe dragoness watched her stomach shift and sway, the outlines of her child growing more  \ndefined with each passing day. She could see a small snout pressed against her scales, the  \nsharp points of tiny claws, the graceful curve of a developing wing. She had let this go too  \nfar. The joy was now tinged with a genuine fear for her own safety. The hatchling was too  \nbig, too strong. It was no longer a secret indulgence; it was a liability. The logical,  \nsurvival-focused part of her brain, which she had suppressed for so long, finally screamed  \nloud enough to be heard.  \nShe took a deep breath, the action causing her belly to press painfully against the cavern  \nfloor. \"It's time.\"  \nShe tried to stand, her legs straining with the effort. Her belly, now colossal, pinned her  \ndown. She grunted, pushing with all four limbs, her muscles screaming in protest. Slowly,  \nagonizingly, she managed to get to her feet, her stance comically wide to accommodate the  \nsheer width of her burden. She took a careful step, the swing of her belly nearly unbalancing  \nher. She made her way to the softest, driest part of the cave, a pile of moss and old hides she  \nused for her nest. With a pained grunt, she lowered herself onto her side, the shift in  \npressure causing a fresh wave of discomfort.  \nHere we go.  \nShe closed her eyes, focusing on the familiar sensation of her cervix beginning to dilate. She  \nbore down, pushing with all her might. The pressure was immense, a crushing force against  \nher hips. Her hips, narrow and designed for laying eggs, not for passing a live, toddler-sized  \ndragon, strained against the impossible task. The bones groaned, a deep, unsettling ache  \nspreading through her pelvis. She pushed again, a guttural cry tearing from her throat.  \nProgress, but slow, agonizing progress. She could feel the hatchling's head pressing down,  \nstretching her in a way she was never meant to be stretched.  \nMinutes blurred into a painful eternity. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her muscles  \nburned with fatigue. She could feel the hatchling beginning to crown, the skin of her passage  \nstretched to its absolute limit. With one final, desperate push, she managed to get the  \nhatchling's head and shoulders through.  \nCold.  \nA sudden, sharp blast of frigid air hit the exposed portion of the hatchling. The cavern, warm  \nto her, was an icebox to the creature who had only ever known the incubating heat of her  \nwomb. The reaction was instantaneous. A panicked squeal, muffled by her own body, and  \nthen a powerful, frantic pulling. The hatchling, with the desperate strength of a frightened  \nanimal, was trying to pull itself back in. She was too exhausted, too worn out from the effort  \nto resist. She could only lie there, a helpless observer, as her child, terrified of the cold,  \nfrantically wiggled and pulled its way back into the safety of her body. She watched,  \nmesmerized and horrified, as her belly, which had begun to shrink, slowly refilled. She could  \nsee the distinct bulge of the hatchling's head receding up her birth canal, the contours of its  \nshoulders and back pressing against her insides. With a final, wet slurp, the hatchling was  \nfully inside her again. Her belly, once again, was full and round, perhaps even more so than  \nbefore, as a fresh wave of amniotic fluid rushed in to cushion the frightened child. A wave of  \nrelief washed over her, so potent it was almost shameful. The danger was over. The  \nterrifying, painful process was reversed. And... her belly was back. The secret show could  \ncontinue. The constant, comforting presence of her child was restored. A part of her, a very  \nlarge part, was not completely displeased with this outcome. She could keep her belly for  \nlonger. The fear was still there, a distant thrum, but the immediate, addictive joy had won.  \nAgain.  \n\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*  \n\"It's okay. We still have time, my child. My dearest. But I promise it's much warmer up here  \nright now. Maybe still not as hot as inside my belly, but you'll have to come out someday...\"  \nShe gently rubbed her stomach, trying to soothe the agitated hatchling that was still  \nshivering and shifting within her. The attempt at birth had left her sore and exhausted, but  \nalso strangely exhilarated. She had pushed her body to its absolute limit, and while she had  \nfailed, the experience had been a visceral confirmation of the life she carried.  \nDays turned into weeks, and the hatchling continued to grow at an alarming rate. Her belly  \nwas no longer just large; it was a monumental presence, a heavy, living sphere that reached  \npast her knees. Walking was a constant struggle, a laborious waddle that left her panting for  \nbreath. Her hind legs trembled with the effort of carrying such a monumental weight.  \nOne afternoon, while struggling to reach a particularly sweet bunch of mountain grapes, the  \nshift of her belly threw her off balance. With a startled yelp, she collapsed onto her side. The  \nimpact sent shockwaves through her body, but the hatchling inside seemed to find it  \namusing. A violent series of kicks and shoves erupted within her, a chaotic dance of limbs  \nthat made her scales ripple and dance. As she lay there, catching her breath, she became a  \npassive spectator to the life within her. Her belly became a canvas, and the hatchling was an  \nenergetic, unknowing artist.  \nShe watched, fascinated, as a snout pressed against the lower curve of her belly, followed by  \na paw-like foot extending all the way to the underside of her ribcage. She could even see the  \nfaint outlines of developing wing bones pressing against the top swell of her abdomen. The  \nmovements were no longer gentle nudges; they were powerful, unmistakable struggles for  \nspace in their ever-shrinking home. The hatchling was constantly moving, turning, and  \nsquirming in an attempt to find a comfortable position. It was a futile effort. There were no  \ncomfortable positions left.  \nBut she was entranced.  \nThe strain, the discomfort, the near-constant ache of her over-stretched skin—it all faded  \naway in the face of this intimate display of life. She would lie like that for hours, just  \nwatching the shifting bumps and contours. She knew, with absolute certainty, that she  \nshould have been horrified. She knew she should have been doing everything in her power  \nto correct this monumental mistake. But she couldn't. The visual thrill, the feeling of being  \nso incredibly, viscerally full of life, was an addiction. She wasn't enjoying the movement  \nbecause of maternal affection; she was enjoying it because it was a spectacle. A private,  \nliving work of art that only she could witness, all at her own expense.  \nThen it happened again.  \nIt started with a familiar, intense pressure. The hatchling, frustrated and crowded, was trying  \nto unfold. But this time was different. There was no frantic stretch. It was slow, deliberate. A  \nfull-body effort to assume the 'hatching' posture, straighten its limbs, and push outwards.  \nShe gasped, her claws digging into the stone floor of her cave. Her skin stretched, the pain  \nimmediate and sharp. Ashton knew she was supposed to birth him a long time ago, but it  \nwas just far too pleasurable not to see her own body respond. Her belly began to swell,  \ngrowing visibly rounder, the scales on her abdomen pulling so tight she could almost see the  \nsofter membrane beneath. For a terrifying second, she thought she would burst open. The  \npressure peaked, and then, with a groan from her womb that she felt through every bone,  \nthe hatchling was forced back into its cramped fetal position by the uncompromising  \nresistance of her own body. The swelling receded, leaving her panting and sweating, her  \nclaw hovering protectively over the distended skin. The line between thrill and danger was  \nno longer just blurred; it had been erased.  \nAs she lay there, recovering, her entire being felt heavy and sore; the entrance to the cave,  \nusually a comfortable darkness, was broken by two immense silhouettes. Their scales shone  \nlike polished obsidian and polished silver under the mountain's dying embers—a male,  \nwhose shoulder spikes scraped the cavern's roof, and a female, slightly smaller but just as  \nmagnificent. Her belly began to sway, and suddenly she was overcome with anxiety about  \nthe whole situation. Miss Ashton had quite a big secret within her stomach, and she could  \nnot lie about something that massive and evident.  \n\"You...\" the silver dragoness began, her horns curling gracefully. \"...have our child in there  \nstill?\"  \nHe was bigger than the one that now rested on the stone. There's no wonder why it was  \nstuck. Miss Ashton's jaw remained almost shut as she tried to process their entrance, her  \nbreathing quickening. As long as it would be just her secret alone, she had a chance not to  \nthink about the outcome.  \n\"Yes,\" the male's deep rumble with curiosity. \"He's quite... big, isn't he?\"  \nMiss Ashton could only stammer, a rare event for a dragon of her pride. \"The... the  \nattempt... the cold...\" She struggled to form a coherent sentence, a fresh flush of  \nembarrassment heating her cheeks.\"He didn't want to come out.\"  \nShe expected confusion or perhaps irritation. Instead, the female, whose name she still  \ndidn't know, stepped closer, her silver head lowering to inspect Miss Ashton's belly with an  \nunnerving, intense curiosity. Her forked tongue flickered out, tasting the air. A deep hum  \nresonated from her chest. It was not a sound of judgment but of profound interest.  \n\"Fascinating,\" the female purred, the vibration sending a strange tingle through Miss  \nAshton's aching abdomen. \"I've never... heard of such a thing. It's still growing inside you.\"  \nShe nudged her snout against Miss Ashton's belly. The dragoness winced at the new external  \npressure. The male watched, his large, golden eyes fixated on the scene. \"What we should  \ndo now, Vorath?\"  \n\"Nyxira...\" the male started, puzzled beyond belief. The situation was so odd even to him  \nthat he looked like an old, wise creature caught in an embarrassing dilemma. His jaw hung  \nslightly. \"I... it is beyond any knowledge that I have...\"  \n\"I know... But still.\" The female dragoness, Nyxira, continued to examine her from multiple  \nangles with wonder that would soon escalate to something Miss Ashton hadn't  \nanticipated—a sudden pang of jealousy in the female's eye. Nyxira watched the subtle,  \ninternal movements with rapt attention. \"I felt so... hollow after we gave the egg to our  \nsurrogate. The world had dulled. My instincts told me our child was safe with you, but my  \nbody ached. I wish...\"  \nShe looked down at her own flat underside. Then she looked at Miss Ashton. The raw,  \nundiluted yearning in Nyxira's expression hit the dragoness harder than any of her unborn  \nchild's kicks.  \nNyxira straightened up, her determination now clear. \"It was my eggs, but she carried my  \nhatchling. She experienced it.\" Her silver gaze settled on her larger mate, Vorath. A  \ncommand disguised as a question. \"I will have our son. From here.\" She gestured with her  \nchin at Miss Ashton’s belly. \"Help me,\" she pleaded with Vorath, her voice low and intense.  \n\"She is tired, but he must come out. And then he must come in.\" Her forked tongue flicked  \nat her own chest, emphasizing her request.  \nVorath took a deep, resonant breath, the kind that precedes a full-throated roar or the jet of  \na fire. But here, he just let out a deep sigh that smelled of soot and agreement.  \nThis is going to be painful...  \nMiss Ashton watched as the silver dragoness, Nyxira, shifted her position to make it  \nphysically easier. The large silver dragoness carefully placed herself so she had enough room  \nin between her hind legs, and her silver tail lashed with a sudden mix of excitement and  \nnervous energy.  \nNow Vorath turned back to Miss Ashton. \"Brace yourself,\" he rumbled, an apology already in  \nhis tone.  \nHe didn't wait for a response. One massive, obsidian-scaled paw descended upon the  \nswollen summit of her belly. The pressure was nothing like she had ever experienced. Her  \nbreath left her in a whoof as her organs were forcefully compressed. A strangled cry escaped  \nher as a new pain lanced through her abdomen—the hatchling was being pushed out not  \njust with her efforts, but with the strength of the larger dragon's help. Vorath wasn't just  \npressing; he was pushing, deliberately and systematically, trying to guide the large,  \nstill-active hatchling down and out of Miss Ashton's too-small body.  \n\"I... can see the head,\" Nyxira panted, her snout pressed close, her voice filled with scientific  \ncuriosity and maternal urgency.  \nMiss Ashton's hips shrieked in protest. It was a deep, bony ache, as if her skeleton was being  \nhammered apart from the inside. She could feel every millimeter of the hatchling's passage,  \nevery shift of bone and scale against her sensitive tissues. She gritted her teeth, her claws  \nscoring deep grooves into the stone floor of her cave.  \nVorath's paws were tireless and immensely strong. He applied pressure from every  \nconceivable angle—one paw pressing firmly against the top curve of her belly, the other  \ntucking under its swell to lift and guide. Under this relentless force, the hatchling had no  \nchoice but to comply. Miss Ashton cried out again, a raw, guttural sound of pain and strain,  \nas her hips felt like they were about to dislocate. There was a final, excruciating pop, a  \nsensation that echoed through her entire frame. Then came the slick, heavy slide of body  \nafter body passing through her.  \nThe sudden emptiness was as shocking as the pressure had been. Her belly, her colossal,  \nmagnificent, and deeply loved burden, suddenly deflated, leaving loose, hanging skin  \nflopping against the floor of the cave. It felt wrong, a profound and disturbing lack of where  \nsuch profoundness should be. She panted, gasping for air, every muscle quivering with  \nexhaustion and a profound sense of loss. She laid her heavy head on the stone and did her  \nbest to watch the end of their little experiment before a much-needed sleep would take over  \nher. She blinked her tearing eyes open in time to see Nyxira moving with a practiced, almost  \npreternatural grace. The massive male, Vorath, stepped back to give his mate space. The  \nfemale dragoness didn't hesitate. As soon as the slippery, dark-scaled hatchling was fully  \nfreed, she positioned herself over the newborn child and, with determined efficiency and an  \nundeniably pleased grunt, began to draw it inside. Miss Ashton watched the spectacle that  \nplayed out after months of carrying the creature. The transfer was seamless, the  \nhatchling—already toddler-sized, slick with amniotic fluids—disappearing into its new home.  \nWith her belly refilled, a new sense of purpose washed over the female, and she seemed  \ncontent.  \n\"I never want this feeling to fade...\" she hummed with a note of something akin to music.  \nBefore she had finished her sentence, the familiar shove came from her belly. The silver  \ndragoness let out a sharp inhale, her entire frame jolting at the hungry push from within. A  \nlook of pure wonder crossed her face. She'd felt it. The unmistakable protest of the dragon,  \nher dragon, inside her. The powerful push caused her own, newly acquired belly to lurch, a  \nvisible tremor running through the silver scales covering her abdomen. It wasn't the subtle  \nshifting Ashton had grown used to; it was a strong, violent protest.  \n\"A sign that he's here and well,\" Vorath added after watching her reaction, satisfaction warm  \nin his rumbling tones. His gaze was fixed upon her newly rounded form, the gentle curve a  \nstark, beautiful contrast to her previous, sleek shape. \"He likes his new home.\" Miss Ashton  \nwatched the two dragons for a few seconds as she lay a claw to her own belly that now  \nsagged. A new, unsettling emotion began to creep in, and it was her turn to envy what she  \nhad just given away, all for her amusement of seeing her own abdomen swell.  \nWas it all over?  \n\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*  \n\"I feel bad over, husband of mine...\" her voice was strained as she lay on her soft nest. The  \nsilver dragoness shifted uneasily, her new belly shifting with her, a tangible, undeniable  \nweight that was at once thrilling and exhausting. \"I made such a fuss. A tantrum that  \nresulted in this.\" She gently tapped her silvery-scaled stomach. The protest from within had  \nsubsided for the moment, but the feeling of it, that new form of connection, lingered like the  \naftertaste of strong spice. She turned to Vorath, worry lacing her words. \"She's all alone over  \nthere...\"  \n\"She is fine,\" Vorath tried soothing as he came over and gently nudged her. But she  \nremained unconvinced.  \n\"Will I also look as... sagged as her... after it's done?\" Her words cut through the quiet of the  \ncavern like a knife, her concern over her own future appearance overriding everything else.  \nA silence answered her. He took in her taut, glowing silver hide. His gaze drifted down to the  \ngentle, perfect dome of her belly, the place where their child, a creature that had once been  \nnothing but the size of a grape, now slept after the exhausting ordeal.  \nA new determination settled in her then, as if she'd made a vital decision that involved far  \nmore than just her present satisfaction. Her golden eyes narrowed at Vorath. \"You know,\"  \nshe began, her voice turning sultry, a playful glint replacing her recent anxiety. A low rumble  \nas a new dare was set to the test. \"Just... just as another challenge, as you so love to have  \nthem... A joke, my dear...\" she purred with a playful undertone. \"I'll bet I can carry this little  \none in here long enough to grow bigger than she did. Imagine that, her head motioned  \ntowards Miss Ashton, who now lay with her own scaled belly in some kind of depression  \nacross the room.  \nTo Nyxira's astonishment, Vorath didn't see it as an impulsive taunt. She expected a chuckle,  \na shake of his magnificent head. Instead, a profound light ignited in the golden pools of his  \neyes. The idea hit him with the force of a lightning strike. It wasn't a threat. For Vorath, it  \nwas the ultimate expression of virility and provision. To have not only sired a son but for his  \nbeautiful mate to be so full of his offspring, their size a clear and undeniable monument to  \nhis strength and her capacity... it was the single most arousing thought he'd ever had. A  \ndeep, guttural growl rolled from deep within his powerful chest as he looked at her, this  \ndragoness of dreams. It was a sound he couldn't—would not contain, a raw and unguarded  \nresponse. He was completely captivated.  \nA single, massive claw extended to gently caress the smooth swell of her belly, tracing its  \nperfect curve. \"A challenge? My beloved Nyxira. When I think of you... even bigger... than  \nMiss Ashton was... all with my seed inside you...\" He spoke as if under some alluring thrall of  \nan idea she had given as a taunting jab. Now it has become his new mission. His tail gave an  \ninvoluntary lash, stirring up a cloud of dust in the dim cavern.  \nThe very next morning, as if by magic—or perhaps more accurately, by male dragon  \ningenuity—Vorath presented her with a meal. It wasn't their usual fare of seared boar and  \nhearty mountain tubers. These were the haunches of a wild behemoth, but something was  \ndifferent. The meat had been tenderized, practically melting at the slightest touch of a  \nforked tongue. More importantly, the familiar musk of behemoth was almost completely  \noverpowered by the cloyingly sweet scent of crushed sunpetals and finely powdered river  \ngems—the key ingredients of the royal hatchling growth formula reserved for young princes  \nand princesses with stubborn growth spurts. \"Here you are,\" he said with faux casualness. A  \nsimple gift. Her mind, now fully on the dare that she had accidentally made so very, very  \nreal, did not question it. Her appetite for that evening’s challenge had become massive, and  \nshe ate more vigorously than she'd had in weeks. She ate until her newly acquired belly  \nached with fullness. She didn't notice the extra vigor with which her hatchling moved the  \nnext day, either; the stronger, more persistent kicks. She only saw them as a confirmation  \nthat he was becoming stronger with each passing hour under her care.  \nWeeks bled into one another in a rhythm of eating and swelling. Nyxira would watch herself  \ndaily in a reflective piece of obsidian in her lair, fascinated by the gradual but distinct  \ntransformation of her body. The gentle dome below her chest widened with an almost  \nvisible swell, the pale silver of her stomach scales growing taut and beginning to glimmer  \nwith a new light in the afternoon sun. The hatchling’s growth spurt had been more rapid  \nthan her own had been, and he was growing stronger.  \n\"Nyxira! My treasure!\" He’d say whenever she'd get a kick from the hatchling. The  \nmovements were becoming almost constant, shifting her stomach with visible lurches.  \n\"My dear... maybe we should reconsider this... it is growing... fast.\"  \nHe was too entranced by the whole thing, too busy admiring her reflection with a paternal  \npride so potent he didn't even try to hide it anymore. \"But my dear, look!\" he would often  \nrumble, gently tracing the now-distinguishable shape of their son's snout as it pressed  \nurgently against her scales. \"He is my son! My blood! My life! And I see all of that when I  \nlook at you.\" The words he chose to praise their child also became new compliments for her.  \nA month passed, and the dare was far over. By then, Vorath didn't even bother with  \nsubterfuge anymore. He would sprinkle the fine, luminous powder of crushed sunpetals on  \nall her food with a blatant satisfaction, his tail twitching in rhythm with the increasingly  \npowerful, and frankly worrisome, prodding that now came from within. Nyxira, who was  \nnow as wide as she was long, had all but given up on objecting. Part of it was exhaustion,  \nbut a growing part of it, she didn't want to admit to anyone, not even herself. A deep, secret  \nthrill was taking hold every day. She secretly craved having her stomach touched now. She  \nwould try to provoke these movements now in quiet moments. Her secret had become a  \nquiet vice.  \nShe lay in her nest of furs and moss, a colossal form of silver and moonlight. The moonlight  \nilluminated what her nest had become: a cavernous expanse of warm furs, deep enough to  \ncomfortably hold a creature twice her previous size. Her belly, now the centerpiece of her  \nvery being, rested heavily between her hind legs, a grand, silvery mound that pressed into  \nthe soft bed and extended well past her knees. Walking had become a series of careful,  \nwide-stanced waddles, each one making the monumental weight swing like a grand  \npendulum that she struggled to control as it tried to overbalance her. She was trapped, not  \nby walls but by her own burgeoning mass. And there were nights in the dim light where this  \ntruth thrilled her as much as it scared her.\"You've gotten so big lately...\" she whispered, rubbing her claws along her abdomen, trying  \nto caress her growing belly. It had gotten exceptionally large, as if it tried its best to make a  \nbetter home for the hatchling who wasn't allowed to leave just yet. She'd become quite  \nattached to the feeling of him inside her, the constant movement, the subtle shifts beneath  \nher scales. It was a strange, intoxicating sensation she couldn't bring herself to give up just  \nyet. It had become a secret indulgence, a guilty pleasure that she nurtured with each passing  \nday.  \nShe often found herself lying on her back, a position that was becoming increasingly difficult,  \njust to watch the spectacle within her. The way her belly would warp and shift as the  \nhatchling turned and stretched was mesmerizing. It was like watching a living sculpture form  \nand reform beneath her skin. She would drag a single claw across the taut surface, a slow,  \ndeliberate line from her chest to her hips, and watch as the hatchling inside would follow the  \nstrange sensation, nudging and pressing against the path she traced.  \nA smile, rare and genuine, spread across her snout as she began a new game. A gentle poke  \njust below her sternum. A moment of stillness, then a firm nudge from within, pressing back  \nagainst her claw. She moved her claw to the left, pressing against her side. The hatchling  \nshifted, a bulge moving beneath her scales as it repositioned to nudge her new spot. Back to  \nthe right. Another internal shuffle. She spent hours like this, a silent, one-sided game of tag  \nbetween mother and child, her breath hitching each time the hatchling responded with  \nsurprising strength. The discomfort was a small price to pay for the thrill of this secret  \nconnection, this power she held over the life within her.  \nBut the games had their consequences.  \nHer indulgence had created a demanding child. One evening, after a particularly long play  \nsession, she had rested her claw on the spot where she could feel the hatchling's head, a  \ngentle, affectionate pat. The response was immediate and insistent. A series of forceful  \nnudges, more demanding than playful. She pulled her claw away, and the movement inside  \nher became frantic, a storm of shifting limbs and powerful pushes against her walls. It was a  \nclear demand: more.  \nA soft growl rumbled in her chest, a sound she directed inward. The hatchling responded in  \nkind, a series of sharp, agitated kicks that made her wince. With a sigh of resignation, she  \nreturned her claw to her belly, rubbing slow circles where she imagined the hatchling's head  \nto be. The frantic movements ceased, replaced by a contented purr she could feel more than  \nhear, a deep vibration that resonated through her entire being. She had accidentally created  \na spoiled, attention-seeking hatchling, and she, the unwitting doting mother, was entirely to  \nblame.  \nHer days became a struggle of logistics.  \nBecause of a high demand, dragoness had to prepare her meals accordingly, needing more  \nsustenance than ever before. She would often pause mid-chew, her belly giving a violent  \nlurch as the hatchling kicked with the enthusiasm of a much larger beast. Her massive frame  \nwould sway with the impact, her claws scrabbling for purchase on the stone floor. She simply  \ntook another bite and chewed more slowly. This was the price of her enjoyment.  \nWalking was an ordeal. Her belly, now so large it scraped against the ground with every step,  \nswung beneath her like a pendulum. The movement was no longer a gentle sway but a  \nheavy, cumbersome lurch. Each step sent ripples through the taut skin of her abdomen, the  \nmomentum causing the hatchling inside to shift and roll, which in turn caused her belly to  \nswing even more dramatically. She had to walk with a wider stance, her hind legs splayed to  \naccommodate the sheer width of her burden, which was now visible on either side of her  \nnarrow hips. It was a constant, jarring reminder of how long she had let this go on.  \nBut the moments of quiet admiration made it all worthwhile. Lying on her back, a precarious  \nbalance she could only hold for a few minutes at a time, she would simply breathe and  \nwatch. The light in her cave would catch the subtle contours shifting beneath her scales. A  \nsnout would press out, creating a defined, draconic bulge. A leg would stretch, a long, thin  \nridge that traveled from one side of her belly to the other. It was a private show, and she was  \nthe only audience member. She knew, with a rational part of her mind that was growing  \nquieter by the day, that she should have birthed this hatchling long ago. The strain on her  \nbody was immense. But the visual thrill, the feeling of being so utterly full of life, was an  \naddiction she couldn't break.  \nOne night, the peace was shattered. A sudden, intense pressure built inside her, unlike  \nanything before. It wasn't a kick or a nudge, but a concerted, full-body effort. Her belly didn't  \njust shift; it began to visibly stretch, the scales pulling apart as the hatchling tried to unfold  \nfrom its fetal position. It was trying to hatch from its living egg. A sharp, alarming pain shot  \nthrough her abdomen as the skin reached its limit. Just as she feared it would tear, the  \nincredible tightness of her womb forced the hatchling back into its compact curl. The  \nswelling subsided, leaving her panting, her claws digging into the stone floor. The game, she  \nrealized with a jolt of both fear and exhilaration, was becoming dangerous.  \n\"Not yet. Please, not yet...\"  \n\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*  \n\"Such a feast of kings. Who knew I would actually enjoy such gluttony...\" Miss Ashton licked  \nher chops, her belly growling with a deeper, more resonant sound than her own. The cavern  \nwas filled with the scent of roasted meats and sweet, pulpy fruits. She had outdone herself.  \nA massive boar, its hide crackling with fat, sat on a bed of coals, surrounded by piles of  \nglistening, dark purple berries and the strange, luminous fungi that grew deep within the  \nmountain. It was a banquet for a dragon twice the size of a horse, and her body's new,  \nvoracious appetite demanded it all. She tore into the boar, her powerful jaws crushing bone  \nand sinew with equal ease. As she ate, her belly began to gurgle and churn, and soon, the  \nfamiliar, powerful lurch came from within. The hatchling was hungry, and it was shoving  \nagainst her walls with a force that made her entire frame sway.  \n\"Patience, little one. Your turn is coming,\" she rumbled, swallowing a huge chunk of meat.  \nShe ate until she could eat no more, her belly feeling impossibly tight, stretched to its  \nabsolute limit by the combination of her meal and her ever-growing child. She slumped to  \nthe floor, groaning with a mixture of satisfaction and discomfort, her massive abdomen  \nresting heavily on the cool stone.  \nAs she lay there, digesting, she decided to play their usual game. With a lazy claw, she poked  \nthe side of her belly, just above her hip. Instead of the usual playful nudge, she received a  \nviolent kick that nearly lifted her hindquarters off the ground. She grunted, the impact  \nsending a jolt through her. Undeterred, she tried again, this time on the opposite side. The  \nhatchling shifted, its entire body rolling within her, creating a breathtaking spectacle of  \nshifting bulges and warping scales. Her breath hitched. Even through the pain, the sight was  \ncaptivating.  \nBut the fun had to end someday.  \n\"I'm scared...\" she whispered to herself with a sudden mood shift. Just moments ago, she  \ncouldn't feel happier during the feast, but now an unexplainable anxiety crept into her mind.  \nThe dragoness watched her stomach shift and sway, the outlines of her child growing more  \ndefined with each passing day. She could see a small snout pressed against her scales, the  \nsharp points of tiny claws, the graceful curve of a developing wing. She had let this go too  \nfar. The joy was now tinged with a genuine fear for her own safety. The hatchling was too  \nbig, too strong. It was no longer a secret indulgence; it was a liability. The logical,  \nsurvival-focused part of her brain, which she had suppressed for so long, finally screamed  \nloud enough to be heard.  \nShe took a deep breath, the action causing her belly to press painfully against the cavern  \nfloor. \"It's time.\"  \nShe tried to stand, her legs straining with the effort. Her belly, now colossal, pinned her  \ndown. She grunted, pushing with all four limbs, her muscles screaming in protest. Slowly,  \nagonizingly, she managed to get to her feet, her stance comically wide to accommodate the  \nsheer width of her burden. She took a careful step, the swing of her belly nearly unbalancing  \nher. She made her way to the softest, driest part of the cave, a pile of moss and old hides she  \nused for her nest. With a pained grunt, she lowered herself onto her side, the shift in  \npressure causing a fresh wave of discomfort.  \nHere we go.  \nShe closed her eyes, focusing on the familiar sensation of her cervix beginning to dilate. She  \nbore down, pushing with all her might. The pressure was immense, a crushing force against  \nher hips. Her hips, narrow and designed for laying eggs, not for passing a live, toddler-sized  \ndragon, strained against the impossible task. The bones groaned, a deep, unsettling ache  \nspreading through her pelvis. She pushed again, a guttural cry tearing from her throat.  \nProgress, but slow, agonizing progress. She could feel the hatchling's head pressing down,  \nstretching her in a way she was never meant to be stretched.  \nMinutes blurred into a painful eternity. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her muscles  \nburned with fatigue. She could feel the hatchling beginning to crown, the skin of her passage  \nstretched to its absolute limit. With one final, desperate push, she managed to get the  \nhatchling's head and shoulders through.  \nCold.  \nA sudden, sharp blast of frigid air hit the exposed portion of the hatchling. The cavern, warm  \nto her, was an icebox to the creature who had only ever known the incubating heat of her  \nwomb. The reaction was instantaneous. A panicked squeal, muffled by her own body, and  \nthen a powerful, frantic pulling. The hatchling, with the desperate strength of a frightened  \nanimal, was trying to pull itself back in. She was too exhausted, too worn out from the effort  \nto resist. She could only lie there, a helpless observer, as her child, terrified of the cold,  \nfrantically wiggled and pulled its way back into the safety of her body. She watched,  \nmesmerized and horrified, as her belly, which had begun to shrink, slowly refilled. She could  \nsee the distinct bulge of the hatchling's head receding up her birth canal, the contours of its  \nshoulders and back pressing against her insides. With a final, wet slurp, the hatchling was  \nfully inside her again. Her belly, once again, was full and round, perhaps even more so than  \nbefore, as a fresh wave of amniotic fluid rushed in to cushion the frightened child. A wave of  \nrelief washed over her, so potent it was almost shameful. The danger was over. The  \nterrifying, painful process was reversed. And... her belly was back. The secret show could  \ncontinue. The constant, comforting presence of her child was restored. A part of her, a very  \nlarge part, was not completely displeased with this outcome. She could keep her belly for  \nlonger. The fear was still there, a distant thrum, but the immediate, addictive joy had won.  \nAgain.  \n\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*  \n\"It's okay. We still have time, my child. My dearest. But I promise it's much warmer up here  \nright now. Maybe still not as hot as inside my belly, but you'll have to come out someday...\"  \nShe gently rubbed her stomach, trying to soothe the agitated hatchling that was still  \nshivering and shifting within her. The attempt at birth had left her sore and exhausted, but  \nalso strangely exhilarated. She had pushed her body to its absolute limit, and while she had  \nfailed, the experience had been a visceral confirmation of the life she carried.  \nDays turned into weeks, and the hatchling continued to grow at an alarming rate. Her belly  \nwas no longer just large; it was a monumental presence, a heavy, living sphere that reached  \npast her knees. Walking was a constant struggle, a laborious waddle that left her panting for  \nbreath. Her hind legs trembled with the effort of carrying such a monumental weight.  \nOne afternoon, while struggling to reach a particularly sweet bunch of mountain grapes, the  \nshift of her belly threw her off balance. With a startled yelp, she collapsed onto her side. The  \nimpact sent shockwaves through her body, but the hatchling inside seemed to find it  \namusing. A violent series of kicks and shoves erupted within her, a chaotic dance of limbs  \nthat made her scales ripple and dance. As she lay there, catching her breath, she became a  \npassive spectator to the life within her. Her belly became a canvas, and the hatchling was an  \nenergetic, unknowing artist.  \nShe watched, fascinated, as a snout pressed against the lower curve of her belly, followed by  \na paw-like foot extending all the way to the underside of her ribcage. She could even see the  \nfaint outlines of developing wing bones pressing against the top swell of her abdomen. The  \nmovements were no longer gentle nudges; they were powerful, unmistakable struggles for  \nspace in their ever-shrinking home. The hatchling was constantly moving, turning, and  \nsquirming in an attempt to find a comfortable position. It was a futile effort. There were no  \ncomfortable positions left.  \nBut she was entranced.  \nThe strain, the discomfort, the near-constant ache of her over-stretched skin—it all faded  \naway in the face of this intimate display of life. She would lie like that for hours, just  \nwatching the shifting bumps and contours. She knew, with absolute certainty, that she  \nshould have been horrified. She knew she should have been doing everything in her power  \nto correct this monumental mistake. But she couldn't. The visual thrill, the feeling of being  \nso incredibly, viscerally full of life, was an addiction. She wasn't enjoying the movement  \nbecause of maternal affection; she was enjoying it because it was a spectacle. A private,  \nliving work of art that only she could witness, all at her own expense.  \nThen it happened again.  \nIt started with a familiar, intense pressure. The hatchling, frustrated and crowded, was trying  \nto unfold. But this time was different. There was no frantic stretch. It was slow, deliberate. A  \nfull-body effort to assume the 'hatching' posture, straighten its limbs, and push outwards.  \nShe gasped, her claws digging into the stone floor of her cave. Her skin stretched, the pain  \nimmediate and sharp. Ashton knew she was supposed to birth him a long time ago, but it  \nwas just far too pleasurable not to see her own body respond. Her belly began to swell,  \ngrowing visibly rounder, the scales on her abdomen pulling so tight she could almost see the  \nsofter membrane beneath. For a terrifying second, she thought she would burst open. The  \npressure peaked, and then, with a groan from her womb that she felt through every bone,  \nthe hatchling was forced back into its cramped fetal position by the uncompromising  \nresistance of her own body. The swelling receded, leaving her panting and sweating, her  \nclaw hovering protectively over the distended skin. The line between thrill and danger was  \nno longer just blurred; it had been erased.  \nAs she lay there, recovering, her entire being felt heavy and sore; the entrance to the cave,  \nusually a comfortable darkness, was broken by two immense silhouettes. Their scales shone  \nlike polished obsidian and polished silver under the mountain's dying embers—a male,  \nwhose shoulder spikes scraped the cavern's roof, and a female, slightly smaller but just as  \nmagnificent. Her belly began to sway, and suddenly she was overcome with anxiety about  \nthe whole situation. Miss Ashton had quite a big secret within her stomach, and she could  \nnot lie about something that massive and evident.  \n\"You...\" the silver dragoness began, her horns curling gracefully. \"...have our child in there  \nstill?\"  \nHe was bigger than the one that now rested on the stone. There's no wonder why it was  \nstuck. Miss Ashton's jaw remained almost shut as she tried to process their entrance, her  \nbreathing quickening. As long as it would be just her secret alone, she had a chance not to  \nthink about the outcome.  \n\"Yes,\" the male's deep rumble with curiosity. \"He's quite... big, isn't he?\"  \nMiss Ashton could only stammer, a rare event for a dragon of her pride. \"The... the  \nattempt... the cold...\" She struggled to form a coherent sentence, a fresh flush of  \nembarrassment heating her cheeks.\"He didn't want to come out.\"  \nShe expected confusion or perhaps irritation. Instead, the female, whose name she still  \ndidn't know, stepped closer, her silver head lowering to inspect Miss Ashton's belly with an  \nunnerving, intense curiosity. Her forked tongue flickered out, tasting the air. A deep hum  \nresonated from her chest. It was not a sound of judgment but of profound interest.  \n\"Fascinating,\" the female purred, the vibration sending a strange tingle through Miss  \nAshton's aching abdomen. \"I've never... heard of such a thing. It's still growing inside you.\"  \nShe nudged her snout against Miss Ashton's belly. The dragoness winced at the new external  \npressure. The male watched, his large, golden eyes fixated on the scene. \"What we should  \ndo now, Vorath?\"  \n\"Nyxira...\" the male started, puzzled beyond belief. The situation was so odd even to him  \nthat he looked like an old, wise creature caught in an embarrassing dilemma. His jaw hung  \nslightly. \"I... it is beyond any knowledge that I have...\"  \n\"I know... But still.\" The female dragoness, Nyxira, continued to examine her from multiple  \nangles with wonder that would soon escalate to something Miss Ashton hadn't  \nanticipated—a sudden pang of jealousy in the female's eye. Nyxira watched the subtle,  \ninternal movements with rapt attention. \"I felt so... hollow after we gave the egg to our  \nsurrogate. The world had dulled. My instincts told me our child was safe with you, but my  \nbody ached. I wish...\"  \nShe looked down at her own flat underside. Then she looked at Miss Ashton. The raw,  \nundiluted yearning in Nyxira's expression hit the dragoness harder than any of her unborn  \nchild's kicks.  \nNyxira straightened up, her determination now clear. \"It was my eggs, but she carried my  \nhatchling. She experienced it.\" Her silver gaze settled on her larger mate, Vorath. A  \ncommand disguised as a question. \"I will have our son. From here.\" She gestured with her  \nchin at Miss Ashton’s belly. \"Help me,\" she pleaded with Vorath, her voice low and intense.  \n\"She is tired, but he must come out. And then he must come in.\" Her forked tongue flicked  \nat her own chest, emphasizing her request.  \nVorath took a deep, resonant breath, the kind that precedes a full-throated roar or the jet of  \na fire. But here, he just let out a deep sigh that smelled of soot and agreement.  \nThis is going to be painful...  \nMiss Ashton watched as the silver dragoness, Nyxira, shifted her position to make it  \nphysically easier. The large silver dragoness carefully placed herself so she had enough room  \nin between her hind legs, and her silver tail lashed with a sudden mix of excitement and  \nnervous energy.  \nNow Vorath turned back to Miss Ashton. \"Brace yourself,\" he rumbled, an apology already in  \nhis tone.  \nHe didn't wait for a response. One massive, obsidian-scaled paw descended upon the  \nswollen summit of her belly. The pressure was nothing like she had ever experienced. Her  \nbreath left her in a whoof as her organs were forcefully compressed. A strangled cry escaped  \nher as a new pain lanced through her abdomen—the hatchling was being pushed out not  \njust with her efforts, but with the strength of the larger dragon's help. Vorath wasn't just  \npressing; he was pushing, deliberately and systematically, trying to guide the large,  \nstill-active hatchling down and out of Miss Ashton's too-small body.  \n\"I... can see the head,\" Nyxira panted, her snout pressed close, her voice filled with scientific  \ncuriosity and maternal urgency.  \nMiss Ashton's hips shrieked in protest. It was a deep, bony ache, as if her skeleton was being  \nhammered apart from the inside. She could feel every millimeter of the hatchling's passage,  \nevery shift of bone and scale against her sensitive tissues. She gritted her teeth, her claws  \nscoring deep grooves into the stone floor of her cave.  \nVorath's paws were tireless and immensely strong. He applied pressure from every  \nconceivable angle—one paw pressing firmly against the top curve of her belly, the other  \ntucking under its swell to lift and guide. Under this relentless force, the hatchling had no  \nchoice but to comply. Miss Ashton cried out again, a raw, guttural sound of pain and strain,  \nas her hips felt like they were about to dislocate. There was a final, excruciating pop, a  \nsensation that echoed through her entire frame. Then came the slick, heavy slide of body  \nafter body passing through her.  \nThe sudden emptiness was as shocking as the pressure had been. Her belly, her colossal,  \nmagnificent, and deeply loved burden, suddenly deflated, leaving loose, hanging skin  \nflopping against the floor of the cave. It felt wrong, a profound and disturbing lack of where  \nsuch profoundness should be. She panted, gasping for air, every muscle quivering with  \nexhaustion and a profound sense of loss. She laid her heavy head on the stone and did her  \nbest to watch the end of their little experiment before a much-needed sleep would take over  \nher. She blinked her tearing eyes open in time to see Nyxira moving with a practiced, almost  \npreternatural grace. The massive male, Vorath, stepped back to give his mate space. The  \nfemale dragoness didn't hesitate. As soon as the slippery, dark-scaled hatchling was fully  \nfreed, she positioned herself over the newborn child and, with determined efficiency and an  \nundeniably pleased grunt, began to draw it inside. Miss Ashton watched the spectacle that  \nplayed out after months of carrying the creature. The transfer was seamless, the  \nhatchling—already toddler-sized, slick with amniotic fluids—disappearing into its new home.  \nWith her belly refilled, a new sense of purpose washed over the female, and she seemed  \ncontent.  \n\"I never want this feeling to fade...\" she hummed with a note of something akin to music.  \nBefore she had finished her sentence, the familiar shove came from her belly. The silver  \ndragoness let out a sharp inhale, her entire frame jolting at the hungry push from within. A  \nlook of pure wonder crossed her face. She'd felt it. The unmistakable protest of the dragon,  \nher dragon, inside her. The powerful push caused her own, newly acquired belly to lurch, a  \nvisible tremor running through the silver scales covering her abdomen. It wasn't the subtle  \nshifting Ashton had grown used to; it was a strong, violent protest.  \n\"A sign that he's here and well,\" Vorath added after watching her reaction, satisfaction warm  \nin his rumbling tones. His gaze was fixed upon her newly rounded form, the gentle curve a  \nstark, beautiful contrast to her previous, sleek shape. \"He likes his new home.\" Miss Ashton  \nwatched the two dragons for a few seconds as she lay a claw to her own belly that now  \nsagged. A new, unsettling emotion began to creep in, and it was her turn to envy what she  \nhad just given away, all for her amusement of seeing her own abdomen swell.  \nWas it all over?  \n\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*  \n\"I feel bad over, husband of mine...\" her voice was strained as she lay on her soft nest. The  \nsilver dragoness shifted uneasily, her new belly shifting with her, a tangible, undeniable  \nweight that was at once thrilling and exhausting. \"I made such a fuss. A tantrum that  \nresulted in this.\" She gently tapped her silvery-scaled stomach. The protest from within had  \nsubsided for the moment, but the feeling of it, that new form of connection, lingered like the  \naftertaste of strong spice. She turned to Vorath, worry lacing her words. \"She's all alone over  \nthere...\"  \n\"She is fine,\" Vorath tried soothing as he came over and gently nudged her. But she  \nremained unconvinced.  \n\"Will I also look as... sagged as her... after it's done?\" Her words cut through the quiet of the  \ncavern like a knife, her concern over her own future appearance overriding everything else.  \nA silence answered her. He took in her taut, glowing silver hide. His gaze drifted down to the  \ngentle, perfect dome of her belly, the place where their child, a creature that had once been  \nnothing but the size of a grape, now slept after the exhausting ordeal.  \nA new determination settled in her then, as if she'd made a vital decision that involved far  \nmore than just her present satisfaction. Her golden eyes narrowed at Vorath. \"You know,\"  \nshe began, her voice turning sultry, a playful glint replacing her recent anxiety. A low rumble  \nas a new dare was set to the test. \"Just... just as another challenge, as you so love to have  \nthem... A joke, my dear...\" she purred with a playful undertone. \"I'll bet I can carry this little  \none in here long enough to grow bigger than she did. Imagine that, her head motioned  \ntowards Miss Ashton, who now lay with her own scaled belly in some kind of depression  \nacross the room.  \nTo Nyxira's astonishment, Vorath didn't see it as an impulsive taunt. She expected a chuckle,  \na shake of his magnificent head. Instead, a profound light ignited in the golden pools of his  \neyes. The idea hit him with the force of a lightning strike. It wasn't a threat. For Vorath, it  \nwas the ultimate expression of virility and provision. To have not only sired a son but for his  \nbeautiful mate to be so full of his offspring, their size a clear and undeniable monument to  \nhis strength and her capacity... it was the single most arousing thought he'd ever had. A  \ndeep, guttural growl rolled from deep within his powerful chest as he looked at her, this  \ndragoness of dreams. It was a sound he couldn't—would not contain, a raw and unguarded  \nresponse. He was completely captivated.  \nA single, massive claw extended to gently caress the smooth swell of her belly, tracing its  \nperfect curve. \"A challenge? My beloved Nyxira. When I think of you... even bigger... than  \nMiss Ashton was... all with my seed inside you...\" He spoke as if under some alluring thrall of  \nan idea she had given as a taunting jab. Now it has become his new mission. His tail gave an  \ninvoluntary lash, stirring up a cloud of dust in the dim cavern.  \nThe very next morning, as if by magic—or perhaps more accurately, by male dragon  \ningenuity—Vorath presented her with a meal. It wasn't their usual fare of seared boar and  \nhearty mountain tubers. These were the haunches of a wild behemoth, but something was  \ndifferent. The meat had been tenderized, practically melting at the slightest touch of a  \nforked tongue. More importantly, the familiar musk of behemoth was almost completely  \noverpowered by the cloyingly sweet scent of crushed sunpetals and finely powdered river  \ngems—the key ingredients of the royal hatchling growth formula reserved for young princes  \nand princesses with stubborn growth spurts. \"Here you are,\" he said with faux casualness. A  \nsimple gift. Her mind, now fully on the dare that she had accidentally made so very, very  \nreal, did not question it. Her appetite for that evening’s challenge had become massive, and  \nshe ate more vigorously than she'd had in weeks. She ate until her newly acquired belly  \nached with fullness. She didn't notice the extra vigor with which her hatchling moved the  \nnext day, either; the stronger, more persistent kicks. She only saw them as a confirmation  \nthat he was becoming stronger with each passing hour under her care.  \nWeeks bled into one another in a rhythm of eating and swelling. Nyxira would watch herself  \ndaily in a reflective piece of obsidian in her lair, fascinated by the gradual but distinct  \ntransformation of her body. The gentle dome below her chest widened with an almost  \nvisible swell, the pale silver of her stomach scales growing taut and beginning to glimmer  \nwith a new light in the afternoon sun. The hatchling’s growth spurt had been more rapid  \nthan her own had been, and he was growing stronger.  \n\"Nyxira! My treasure!\" He’d say whenever she'd get a kick from the hatchling. The  \nmovements were becoming almost constant, shifting her stomach with visible lurches.  \n\"My dear... maybe we should reconsider this... it is growing... fast.\"  \nHe was too entranced by the whole thing, too busy admiring her reflection with a paternal  \npride so potent he didn't even try to hide it anymore. \"But my dear, look!\" he would often  \nrumble, gently tracing the now-distinguishable shape of their son's snout as it pressed  \nurgently against her scales. \"He is my son! My blood! My life! And I see all of that when I  \nlook at you.\" The words he chose to praise their child also became new compliments for her.  \nA month passed, and the dare was far over. By then, Vorath didn't even bother with  \nsubterfuge anymore. He would sprinkle the fine, luminous powder of crushed sunpetals on  \nall her food with a blatant satisfaction, his tail twitching in rhythm with the increasingly  \npowerful, and frankly worrisome, prodding that now came from within. Nyxira, who was  \nnow as wide as she was long, had all but given up on objecting. Part of it was exhaustion,  \nbut a growing part of it, she didn't want to admit to anyone, not even herself. A deep, secret  \nthrill was taking hold every day. She secretly craved having her stomach touched now. She  \nwould try to provoke these movements now in quiet moments. Her secret had become a  \nquiet vice.  \nShe lay in her nest of furs and moss, a colossal form of silver and moonlight. The moonlight  \nilluminated what her nest had become: a cavernous expanse of warm furs, deep enough to  \ncomfortably hold a creature twice her previous size. Her belly, now the centerpiece of her  \nvery being, rested heavily between her hind legs, a grand, silvery mound that pressed into  \nthe soft bed and extended well past her knees. Walking had become a series of careful,  \nwide-stanced waddles, each one making the monumental weight swing like a grand  \npendulum that she struggled to control as it tried to overbalance her. She was trapped, not  \nby walls but by her own burgeoning mass. And there were nights in the dim light where this  \ntruth thrilled her as much as it scared her."}