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Dreams coming true

Comm for Vortex

The countryside was quiet, as per usual, but not the eerie, empty quiet of vast deserts or barren mountaintops: it was that sort of quiet full of little sounds, crickets, little birds flapping about, branches brushing against each other pushed by soft winds. All things considered, it was as normal a night as it could be.

And like other nights, Newa and his friends, Rob, Serie, Luka and Agneis, were returning from a secret spot in the forest where they could relax, have fun, away from town and all the boring hubbub of life, away from parents, relatives and bosses alike. There was this one lake, though it actually was more of a large pond with a lazy stream feeding it, half an hour of walking into the forest, and as far as the five were aware, no one else knew about it. It was the perfect place to hide, bathe and swim a bit. They'd brought equipment to roast meat, cook, tan and so on during the summer months, make some mulled wine during the winter and other amenities.

The air was not quite cold enough to be getting towards autumn, not so hot that they needed to be in swimsuits already, so the group was in shorts, t-shirts and carrying large bags of food, now mostly empty. Agneis, the oldest, led them through paths they'd treaded a hundred or more times, torch in hand in case the sun decided to play a prank and set earlier than normal.

It was exactly because they had passed through there so many times and knew that the area was always deserted, save for deer, foxes and small animals, that they stopped for a moment when they noticed an unusual amount of movement off to the side, far past the trail headed for the town. They stopped, looking at each other, then at Agneis and his torch. Suddenly, the sky began to darken quickly, as if over an hour had passed already while they were standing there, like deer in front of a speeding car, unable to do anything but stare at each other. Clouds moved, thick with rain, black and grey, telling of a storm that was soon to come.

"Hold on a moment..." He muttered, fumbling with the bag on his shoulder, handing it to Rob who was already encumbered with the cooler of drinks and meat in his arms.

"Oof... why me?"

"Because." Agneis rolled his eyes. "It's just for a few moments, don't worry." Then he turned the torch on and pointed it at the area where all the noise and movement was coming from.

The forest regained a bit of that brightness it should've had, trees appearing more alive as soon as the light shone on their bark, plunging behind pitch black curtains as soon as the young man pointed the torch somewhere else. The shadows danced and eventually, the tension grew too great.

"Oh come on, it's nothing, I am sure of it." Newa was not the youngest, not the biggest or the fastest of the bunch, but he had that spark of wild ideas that worked fine just about fine often enough to make their evenings never boring. "A fox at most. What's gotten into the lot of you?"

"Could be someone, not something." Chimed in Rob from behind the cooler and the bag. "I'd rather not be anything dangerous."

"Chicken." Newa replied. He ran a hand over his frizzy black hair, scrunching his face and squinting to try and get a good look at the movements behind the trees."Alright, I'm going to check it out."

"What?" Serie shouted loudly and for a moment, the noises stopped. "Yeah, there's definitely something in there. I'm off, see ya tomorrow." And with that, dragging his bag behind, the 21-year-old got his feet back on the path and left.

"Yeah I don't feel like being eaten, stabbed, maimed, slashed, shivved, shanked, crushed or otherwise left impaired on the side of a dumpster than you very much." Luka quickly followed alongside everyone else save for Agneis and Newa.

Newa rolled his eyes and left his stuff on the path then stepped off and headed deeper into the forest. Not even fifteen feet away from his friend and the air had already turned dark, the light from the flashlight pale and nearly imperceptible. Still, his feet were sure on the uneven mix of holes, burrows, roots and rocks on the forest floor, his hands grabbing onto low-hanging branches to keep balance and avoid smacking his face onto a tree trunk. No longer than ten seconds later, the path was gone, the light around him was barely enough to see two steps ahead of him and the silence was deafening. Even the steps he made felt muffled and distant. Agnis had already left, taking what Newa had left behind and was rushing to get back with the others.

The only one left was him, alone, far from where he should have been and deep down, already sure he'd gotten lost. Still he continued to move towards the source of the sound, too proud to go back or to admit that maybe he'd made a mistake. When he fell face first onto a pile of crushed leaves, he merely groaned and the loudness of his voice made him realize that eerie, unnatural darkness was gone, or at least, it wasn't oppressing him as much.

The moon lit his surroundings to a barely acceptable degree and, as he stood up, he saw that he'd tripped because of a large hole in the ground. No, not a hole, a print, like a deer... nope, not a deer, not a boar, wolf or anything else. It was deep, inches deep, with four separate toes and...

"Oh that's just..." He didn't have the time to process the impossibility of a print, a pawprint, three feet wide and inches deep because he felt something push him on the ground. He ate leaves and dirt a second time in less than fifteen seconds, the earthy taste of moss and bits of leaves made him sputter over and over until he got all of that out of his mouth. Newa groaned, then rolled on his back, ready to give a piece of mind to whoever of his friends had had the brilliant idea to sneak behind him and push him down. But that thought never came to fruition because as he looked up, expecting to see Luka or any of the others, he instead saw a pitch black muzzle the size of his torso, bigger even, with two green eyes staring down at him.

"Oh fuck!!!" He shouted, scrambling backwards to try and escape. To his credit, he managed to put an entire two feet of distance before the paw that had made the print descended upon him like a meteor, deceptively slow as adrenaline coursed through his veins. "Fff..." It was so wide it eclipsed the world for a couple of eternally long seconds.

Then it was on him, covering his entire chest, pressing just enough to keep him there and not allow him to move a single inch. It didn't take long to realize that what was pinning him down, trapping him under a paw the size of a car tire, was no illusion or dream or even neurotic breakdown but a real, actual dragon. The weight, the heat, the smell of it was real, the rough scales he'd felt when he tried to push that thick limb off of him... to dream or hallucinate something like that would be far more worrying than it being actually there. It was a dragon, pitch black, with green highlights here and there that glowed faintly in the moonlight. The muzzle descended and as it got closer and closer, letting him see the four horns sprouting behind it, each pointed backwards.

The more he looked at the beast trapping him, the more Newa felt that the way those eyes looked at him from up above was... oddly familiar. Which was insane, dragons didn't exist, and he'd surely never seen or met this specific one in his entire life so how could he feel that its gaze was not foreign to him, the way it curled its head, the pattern that formed stripes, the sharp smile and sheer presence... he felt that he knew all of that.

"Come now, I seriously hoped you'd be smarter than this." The dragon spoke with a bassy, gravelly voice, powerful enough to reverberate through Newa's bones. It smiled and chuffed.

That voice. That smile. That weight. That neck. That muzzle. Those horns. The stripes...

"Vortex?" Speaking that name out loud was the weirdest thing he'd done, not just because it was the first time he'd said that to another being in real life, but because it was the name of his fursona and said figment of his imagination, crafted over months, years of redesigns, thinking and deep longing, was currently the very same thing pinning him down. "Vortex?"

"Mh yes that's my name, you did give it to me, right? One would think one's maker to be acutely aware of their own creation, no? And yet here you are, struggling to even say it."

"Well duh, you're..." Anxiety, fear, all dissolved in a puddle like ice under a summer sun. "You're not supposed to be here." He took a deep breath. If this was Vortex, his sona, his creation, then he had nothing to worry about. "Uhm... so how are you here? Wh-why are you here?"

"Does it matter? Do you really care? Do you really want to know that badly? Even now that I am in your presence as flesh and blood instead of mere pixels or ink?" He leaned in and let out a breath over Newa's ear, gently applying more pressure to the human's chest. "Even with my paw on your body pushing down like so?" Vortex licked his lips as Newa let out a soft moan. "Yes, that's exactly what I thought you'd say."

"Ohhhfffuck you're heavy." The human grunted as he finally began to feel the weight of the dragon on his chest. It wasn't just a 'thing' but a had become reality, a sensation he could focus on, now that his fear of the beast had quickly, suddenly become an unnecessary concept.

"Of course I am, you made me heavy." Vortex chuckled and lifted the paw, letting Newa breathe better. "You designed me." The paw continued to rise. "You crafted my being from head to toe, and now I am here, so enjoy... your creation."

For all of two seconds, the human wasn't too sure what Vortex was going to do next, but his brain quickly caught up, throwing everything unnecessary out of the window and saving every ounce of thinking power for the sight before him. Vortex slowly started to push, kneading Newa's chest with that overly large, meaty paw, flexing his digits, showing just a hint of the deadly claws at their tips, pushing just enough to make Newa realize what all the numbers he'd thought looked cool on paper felt in real life. He'd designed Vortex to be huge, heavy, tons of dragon packed onto a sturdy frame, but just imagining the effects of fifteen tons of meat muscle and bone on cars in his mind were a pale imitation of feeling all of that press his back onto the ground and making him sink into the moss.

"Mhshhh!!!" Breathing came with effort, but he didn't complain, no, this was exactly what he wanted, what he'd dreamt of, what he made Vortex to be.

His cock throbbed inside his pants, tenting them visibly as he was pinned down, unable to move. The dragon smirked and lifted that paw again, only this time he didn't push it down on Newa's chest again, but on his face. Vortex knew of his maker's wishes, he'd been crafted to incarnate them all and so he knew exactly what to do. The human let out a soft whine when he saw that immense paw descend right on his face, he stared at the pads, meaty, wide, soft but unyielding in their size, slick with constantly dripping sweat. Hell, his shirt had a sweatprint in the shape as that paw, but he cared not as his nose was assaulted by the reality of Vortex's musk.

It was like a blanket, heavy, oppressively so, dense like honey. It reeked of that bestial scent he'd described so many times in chatrooms, in roleplay sessions, a mere concept that was now truth. It wasn't like he imagined it to be, it was... better, so much better that he felt himself on the verge of cumming as soon as he took a breath. He resisted, cock harder than it had ever been in his relatively young life, his pants constricting it mercilessly. When Vortex pushed his paw down enough to swallow his maker's head in the deep, sweat-slickened grooves of his pads, when the human opened his mouth to lick in those musky, salty canyons and savoured the potent taste while taking a deep sniff of the paw prison around his head, only then did Newa blow his load.

"MHHHAHAHAHHH!!!!!"

He came, pushing his face into the soft pads, rubbing his nose in between each meaty hill, tongue out, slobbering over plush softness and salty crevices, mouth hanging open as he squirmed and wriggled his legs while cumming hands free. His pants twitched, a dark spot growing on the clean denim. His hands grabbed onto the thick digits and held them tightly all the while he continued to sniff, to lick, to drink in that potent, mind-melting footmusk trapped by the sheer size of Vortex's paws around his head.

"Hmm yes, enjoy it, savour it, worship it. You imagined it, you made it to be this strong, it's only fair it brings you so much pleasure." Vortex grinned again and placed one backpaw close to Newa's crotch. "Let's make you feel even better, shall we?" He licked his lips as one claw ripped open the human's pants, freeing the twitching cock stuck underneath, ripping his underwear. Newa's shaft was slick with cum, still hard as a rock, oozing more as his orgasm continued. "Oh yeah, bet you'll love this."

Vortex pressed his paw down, encompassing his maker's entire crotch and, like with the other one, kneaded the human's body with the huge, meaty pads. Newa was so busy huffing footmusk and rubbing his face onto the grooves of Vortex's underpaw that he barely heard the muffled words spoken to him. What he felt, with no doubt and uncertainty, were the digits wrapping around his still hard shaft and swallowing it in slick, hot, sweaty softness. He was still reeling from the height of a musk-induced orgasm when he came again, his shaft throbbing mightily, precum bubbling at the tip before spilling in fat globs over Vortex's paw as the dragon dragged the large appendage up and down, stroking that human dick gently and ceaselessly.

"OAAHSHHSSSSS!!" The human arched his back, hips thrusting in the vice-like grip of the dragon, humping the gaps of his pads, feeling the mix of soft flesh and pebbly scales on his skin, the slickness of sweat and his own spent cum lubing the way. His sack tensed time and time again, painting Vortex's paw white, the dragon refusing to stop even for a moment. "FFFFFFFFFFFFFfffffuckckkkk..."

"Mhh yes, that's it, sniff, lick, hump my fucking paws... just like that..." He grunted, teeth bared in a wide grin, saliva dripping down on what little of Newa's body was exposed as he kept his maker on the razor's edge of bliss, shoving his head between musky toes, pressing on his spurting cock just enough to make him whimper and take deep breaths of potent footmusk. "Yes..." Vortex chuffed, teasing Newa for a little while more before pulling back.

His hindpaw was connected to the man's crotch with strands of cum that broke when the tension grew too great, his front one much the same but covered in saliva, both tainted by the human's lust and pleasure.

"Enjoyed the first taste of your imagination?" He murred, lifting his front limb to lick his own pads with great pleasure, the multiple feet-long tongue squirming between crevices, toes and toegaps to lap up all the flavour.

"Oh fuck..." Newa quivered like a leaf in the wind, sensitive all over, covered in pawsweat, saliva and cum, his pants torn, his shirt stained, his hair messy and stuck at odd angles. And still rock hard. "Wh... what the fuck..." He gulped. "I didn't write you to be so... uh..." Words were hard to come by, like slippery fish, eluding him and his musk-oppressed mind. He could smell nothing but that paw, taste nothing but that paw and still felt the heft of it on his chest and face. "... you smell... thick."

"Indeed, that's exactly what you wanted. You wished for musk that could send people into climax with sniffs alone and this is the reality of it, the actual, undeniable power of your words, Newa." Vortex chuckled softly. "But of course, you've never experienced true musk, so it's natural for you to be... so surprised. Maybe a few hours under my paws and you'll get used to it... or cum so much your brain fries..." The proud, cocky grin he flashed to Newa was something dangerous, alluring, ungodly powerful. "But you've had your fun, no? Time for me to enjoy myself a bit too..."

The dragon stretched a bit and started to advance. Newa was still on the ground, panting, dick out and still hard because of the thick musk clogging his nose and the salty sweat he'd licked off that huge paw. But even so addled by the smell and the taste and the still-settling realization of his fantasies being real, he noticed that between Vortex's legs was something he definitely hadn't added to his design.

"Uhhh what's that?" He muttered, propping himself up with his elbows.

"Why, are you shocked?" The dragon advanced, step by step, lowering his haunches at the same time until Newa was face-to-face with a sheath wider than he was. "Not what you thought I'd sport down there?" The human nodded, eyes wide: between his creation's legs was not the compact, hidden, slender slit he'd pondered hours over, but an oversized, wobbly, drooling sheath. "You like? I thought it'd be too boring if I was exactly as you imagined me to be, so I changed a couple things..."

"It's fucking huge!"

Newa reached forward with a hand and grabbed onto the edge of that fat cock pouch and tugged. It deformed and stretched, letting out a deluge of precum that splattered over his crotch, bathing it, drenching it, and as it was spread, something began to emerge, or rather two somethings. They were huge, even stuffed inside the sheath, hidden, but not for long. Inch after inch after inch they stretched forward, squeezed together at first from the lack of space but as they lengthened like eager snakes from their hideout, Vortex's twin cocks began to claim their own space. Newa had been right in front of the dragon's sheath and just by chance, ended up being trapped by the two dicks, one to each side, the twin prides he'd personally given sketches and detailed descriptions to artists sandwiched him. They were huge, like everything about Vortex, and like his paws, it was one thing to imagine them or see them on a sterile screen, and another was to have them less than an inch away from one's face. The way they tapered slightly upwards, the gentle yet brutally imposing curve and sleekness of their make was so much grander than what he'd designed them to be like in all his reference sheets. Much, much thicker too.

"H-hot..." That single stuttered word was not just referring to the sight, but to the literal, oven-like heat wafting from their turgid, stretching flesh. It was like sticking a hand in front of a fireplace, a fireplace that was wet, slick, covered in nubs, with ridges that gave it exotic, alien textures, fat, girthy, heavy. "Mhhh..." His own singular, human-sized prick was harder than even before, achingly so. However, the more he looked, the more he found little differences, bits he'd not personally imagined, but that worked even better than he'd thought to make those pillars of musky, sweaty dragonflesh look like the bitchbreakers he'd obsessed over.

"Does my creator like what I came up with? I kept most of your design, but since they are my cocks, I went and added some personal touches..." Vortex snarled, thrusting back and forth, flexing his shafts in order to rob his maker of even more space, pressing the flesh of his prides onto his face, letting him feel the hot blood pumping beneath the skin, the heat, the stiffness they possessed, their heft... "Feel them, touch them..." He thrust forward again. "Give them a little taste, come on, you know you want to know just how wonderful my cocks are like on your tongue."

For just a moment, not one more, Newa hesitated to do as he was so strongly suggested, but then he remembered that there was no one else nearby, that this was a creature he'd imagined and crafted from scratch to embody every one of his kinks and desires. What was the point to hold back or teeter on the edge of what he knew was going to be the fulfilment of his cravings?

He threw himself on the cock on the right, grabbing it with his hands, his palms and fingers slipping on the slick flesh so saturated it was with precum and sheathfluids. He took a strong, deep, sultry, debauched sniff of that fat shaft before his tongue slipped out and he stole one, long lick. It was all he ever imagined, and more: the taste was thick, dense like honey, it clung to his taste buds like the smell of Vortex's paws clogged his nostrils, it was salty with a hint of spicy sweetness because it had been stewing inside that sheath with its twin for who knew how long.

"Oh fuck you taste so fucking good... you smell like a fucking team of jocks..." He sniffed, he licked, he rubbed his face on it just to let the flavour, the stench, the heat seep into his skin. If this was to end soon, he'd go home smelling like he'd been scavenging inside a stadium's worth of sweaty underwear. "Fuck that's a good fucking smell..." Another sniff, another huff, another slobbering lick over that dick before he moved to the other one, playing around with the nubs, the ridges, the little hidden pockets of even thicker taste he'd crafted with his imagination.

"I kept myself ripe just for you, Newa, I pawed off and made sure to slather myself in cum and precum and everything else so that you'd love to slobber over my cocks like you so clearly wanted to when you designed them." Vortex grinned. "But aren't you forgetting something?"

"Hmm?" Newa momentarily stopped gorging himself on cockmusk and the potent, mind-altering taste of that fat, ripe pillar of breeder flesh.

"You were so focused on what was in front of you that you forgot to look... beyond my sheath. I'd be offended if I didn't intentionally make it so alluring for sluts like you... or me... we both know we're cut from the same cloth." With an even bigger grin that showed every tooth in his wide, drooling maw, Vortex advanced even more, putting his paws onto the tree behind his maker to lift himself up.

The wood creaked and groaned, hardly suited to bear a dragon's weight, but it held on, for the moment. Again Newa was forced to look at Vortex's crotch, but then moved his gaze beyond it, past the two fat, ten foot long cocks he had just been fawning over, past the sheath that now looked even fatter and more engorged with said two shafts at full mast and fighting each other for space, was the single most oversized, glorious pair of nuts on the planet.

"HOLY FUCK!" Thankfully his friends had long left or else the volume and tone of his voice would've definitely made them overcome the fear of the darkness still enveloping the two of them. "Wh-what the hell??"

"Mhhh do you like them?" He cocked his hips left and right, making those two wrecking balls sway and plap loudly against his own thighs. "Sheath and no balls is such a crime, don't you think? I had to do it."

"Yeah but those are just... god they are so fucking fat! They're wider than I am!" Newa scrambled towards Vortex's nuts, ducking under his still twitching and drooling cocks, beyond the sheath thicker than his torso, smashing face-first into the sack behind.

The heat was staggering, their size was immense, like holding two large tires that had been baking under the sun for hours. He tried to lift them but they were far, far too heavy for him, maybe they weighed several times his own weight, definitely felt like that. But the things that made him lose his mind and bury his face in the crevice, the sweaty, dark, beckoning crevice between those two orbs, was the smell and the noise: the two nuts stashed in that sack were loud, like engines, car engines, constantly rumbling, groaning, churning, sloshing. He'd written dozens of paragraphs about such things, imagined, fantasized, dreamt, while crafting Vortex, but the actual noise was so much more... raunchy. Balls were not supposed to sound like that at all, they weren't meant to do so much noise and yet they were. And the smell, the smell! It was thick, potent, stronger than the dragon's paws because of the sheer heat of those orbs and the way sweat pooled in that tiny crevice and thickened until Newa felt like his lungs were aching for clean air.

"Ffffffcuk I knew you'd love them, you are a musk slut, that much I gathered from the way you made me but damn, you are one sloppy ball huffer..." Vortex let out a grunt as he felt the human, his maker, hug his balls and squeeze them. His cocks surged and slammed on his belly loudly, like a heavy bag falling wetly onto the ground. "Mh do you like my paws or my cocks or my balls better?" He thrust forward, knocking Newa down on the ground and, with his grin growing even wider, draped his sack onto his maker's torso and head, effectively burying the human in an avalanche of sweaty, slick, musky ballsack.

Newa let out a tiny scream from underneath the two huge nuts and the suspicion that they were far heavier than he was became a truth and it only made him hornier for it. He was being pinned by huge fat sweaty balls, rendered completely immobile by huge fat sweaty balls, his entire upper half was being covered by huge fat sweaty balls, and his cock was being massaged by the constant low-grade humming and churning of those huge fat sweaty balls.

It was only several minutes later that Vortex lifted his body up and revealed a flushed, heated, panting Newa laying on the mossy ground like a starfish, his cock achingly hard and his eyes glazed over from the heat and the smell and the taste of it all. There were fresh streaks of spent cum on the human's shaft, some still oozing out of his tip: he'd cum easily, grinding his cock onto the huge sack, feeling the slick sweat lube his prick and the heat and rumbling acting like a massive vibrator.

"Got a few good licks too, I felt them..." The dragon huffed softly. "You've got an eager tongue, creator, made to lick and to slobber over my sweaty bits... I wonder if you'd like to be snatched and taken into my lair forever, a little sweatrag, nothing more." At those words Newa's shaft gave a little twitch and spat out a fat glob of precum. "Oh, would you look at that..." His tone was playful and light, but his throbbing erections were all but playful. "However, I have other plans for you, better plans and far more arousing plans that involve the both of us having much fun in so many ways."

"H-how am I still hard? I've cum three times..." He was confused, horny as he could've been, and he felt like he had at least another three loads in him, so much so that precum was weeping out of his cock constantly. He looked up at the looming dragon and saw something swelling inside his sheath, or rather, a pair of somethings that were stretching that cock holster more and more. "Oh that's..."

"More surprises yes, my dear maker, but don't bother with them for now, I have patiently waited while you gorged your senses on my junk, it is my turn to enjoy the fruit of our fateful meeting tonight." The moon above was shining brighter and brighter, casting deep shadows under the tree canopies and turning the world under Vortex's ample belly into a dark heaven that smelled like an orgy. "On your back, Newa. Now."

The little human did as his creation asked him to do and rolled on his back. For a moment, Vortex did nothing, then the large lumbering black dragon began to move, circling the human, slowly, carefully.

"Open your legs." He asked, simply, matter-of-fact. Newa did as he said, spreading his legs as wide as he could.

A weak breeze caressed his skin, lapping gently against his pucker and sack, making his cock sway in the air like a throbbing flag. Vortex licked his lips and craned his neck down, bringing his huge muzzle level with the human's rump and pressed scaled lips to human skin. Newa hissed as he felt the pebbly scales touch his backside, as he felt the hot breath wash over his pucker and his balls alike, as he watched the huge dragon's gaze lock onto his own, slitted pupils thin as razor blades.

"Let's have a taste, shall we?" With a guttural chuckle, Vortex opened his maw and dragged his huge, slightly rough tongue against his maker's lower half.

It was a huge tongue, broad like a tire, maybe broader, long, slimy and hot. It sought the nooks and crannies of Newa's rump, slithering inside like a cold snake in a wood pile, leaving behind a slimy, sticky, warm trail of saliva that clung to the human's twitching pucker like honey. The tongue dragged up and up, glazing his sack, then up some more to wrap around that human cock thrice over and leave it even more sensitive then before. But Vortex was not satisfied and clearly Newa was not ready yet for whatever he had in store and so the large dragon licked and slobbered and sampled the taste of human rump, cock and balls for a good minute before, without warning, he plunged his tongue inside his maker's pucker.

Newa moaned and arched his back as he felt his body invaded so abruptly that he had to grit his teeth hard to not cum on the spot under the assault of Vortex's tongue while it ravaged his ass and dug deep. The dragon himself was clearly enjoying himself, his hips thrusting back and forth, his cocks slamming into his belly with great force, nares flaring as he snorted the smell of horny human with his nose right against the source. He could've gone on and on and on and on for hours, or so Newa thought, but after a mere two minutes of ceaseless tonguefucking, Vortex pulled out, revealing a gaping pink rose winking back at the one who had made it. Newa was panting and gasping for air already, but when he watched his creation advance and loom over him, aiming one immense cock at his slightly stretched-out ass, the air in his lungs escaped. Sure, it had a tapering tip, sure it wasn't a massive blunt, equine cock that was attempting to invade his guts, but it did not matter: it was still multiple inches thick and many, many, many, many feet long, longer than Newa himself was tall. But neither Vortex nor he cared: there was too much musk in the air, too much of that mind-altering stench, the noise of the dragon's fat sack groaning with unspent cum, the heavy breathing, the looming and the moon above shining bright.

Vortex pushed and, by all accounts, by any and every law of physics, he shouldn't have been able to fit more than a few inches of cock inside that virginal, though now not so much anymore, pucker, even after that sloppy, messy tongue-stretch. But a dragon was already an impossibility, Newa cumming over and over again with no softening or need to rest just as unnatural, and so the dragon pressed his paws onto his maker's arms and pushed, pushed, pushed.

A whole foot of the dragon's mighty, forearm-thick tip was shoved into Newa's ass, inch after inch, stretching him more and more, the shape of Vortex's fat, tapering cock making the human's belly bulge and rise. One single second was graciously granted to the pinned human before he continued to push, to invade, to claim and fill. Newa was breathless, the fullness of his rump complete and somehow still growing with each new inch of dragoncock crammed inside him.

"Mhhh you're tight."

"Nnnno you're just fucking huge..." Newa looked down and saw the bulge of cock stretching his gut, wondering how he'd taken so much and how was it possible that there was ten times more still left to take. And then he remembered, that was just one half of the dragon's immense pride. "Fffuck."

His cock was now being oppressed by Vortex's other shaft, one rubbing on the other, sharing warmth, heat, fluids, only one was so much more immense, textured and unique. For a brief couple seconds, Newa lamented his own human anatomy, so bland, so boring, then Vortex thrust again and he forgot about anything but the feeling of his organs being rearranged by dragon dick. And moments later he felt something spill inside him, something liquid, something wet and warm and dense and he remembered that his creation wasn't just hung enough to put whales to shame, but that he could pump bathtubs full with just precum. And now that one half of the dragon's twin spires was lodged a foot and a half inside his guts, the endless stream of pre gushing from that one cock had no way to go but deeper inside him.

It was like drinking hot spiced wine, so warm, so pleasant, but it just didn't stop after one sip or one spurt, no, it continued, rope after rope after rope, ceaselessly. And of course, Vortex wasn't so kind as to let Newa content with either his cock or the flow of pre, no, that'd be far from how he himself had made Vortex's personality to be. So the huge, horny, extremely backed up dragon kept pinning his arms and resumed thrusting, adding inches inside his maker, spilling pints of precum all the while his other cock loomed and dragged over the human's skin, smearing it with more precum and cocksweat alike.

Newa gripped the grass and moss around him, his legs spread wide, his eyes rolling back with white-hot pleasure. Precum poured forth, pints, gallons of them, both inside him and over him, like a perverted shower that smelled like getting dunked in spunk, only it was not a mere metaphor. The thrusts were deep, powerful, insanely filling: every extra inch of cock crammed inside him was close to another inch in girth stretching his ass, somehow even more precum that flowed through him until he was starting to feel that gooey, belly-filling warmth at the back of his throat. His stomach was sloshing with precum, yet he felt hungry, hungry for more, more cock more precum more cock more sweat more cock more of everything in excess.

When Vortex managed to cram the third foot of draconic shaft into him, Newa did not marvel at the absurd denial of the laws of anatomy and physics, no, not at all: he merely asked himself how long till every last inch of that fat, sweaty, drooling cock was sheathed from tip to the slowly emerging knot. And then, when he'd finished taking all of that, slowly pull himself off of it, feel the entire thing leave a painful vacuum inside his forever ruined guts, line himself up and take the other cock from tip to knot. And then, once the other one of the dragon's mighty breeding poles were wet, hot and throbbing, squeeze them both in together and ultimately, knot himself on the two of them at once.

As if Vortex knew of his thoughts, as if he could smell the raunchy desire, taste the fruits of their noisy, sloppy moonlight rut, he picked up the pace. He grabbed onto a tree and sunk his claws inside, leaving Newa's arms free to reach up and hug the other cock that was now at eye level. Precum gushed in gallons now, not pints, it had been cloudy now it was milky white and hot. Newa huffed and placed his mouth on the belching tip, suckling on the fat cum pipe, swallowing mouthfuls upon mouthfuls before the other cock advanced too far and pushed this one away from his thirsty tongue.

The tree was gouged, its bark shattered, branches snapped and twisted while Vortex reached an apex of bliss so great and deep he forgot the one impaled three feet deep onto his cock was a mere human, even if that human was the very one that had brought forth his form and identity. But neither he nor Newa cared for the roughness of their sex: one craved to feel more cock inside him, to feel the greatness of his imagination pulse deep in his guts, the other desired to assert his own power over the one who had formed his very essence. Vortex groaned and pressed one sweaty paw over Newa's face, pinning him down, denying him the pleasure of slobbering over the massive cock rubbing on his entire front and replaced it with the privilege of once again huffing thick, mind-breaking toe musk.

It didn't take too long for Vortex to cum, or at least that was what they thought. They swirled through the little dark, isolated patch of forest, one impaled on the other, for close to two hours. Two hours of pure, undiluted, sweaty, chaotic sex, each thrust adding an inch of cock until, each pull removing all of them until the next one, over and over again, ceaselessly until Newa's ass, stretched beyond reason, a pink rosebud, kissed Vortex's right knot. A knot that was wider than the human's waist, another impossibility, this one even more absolute. Not that they didn't try to make it fit.

Whatever brought the dragon to his maker and made the human able to take every inch of Vortex's ten feet of breeding spire, was not going to help any further, but it truly did not matter for soon after that, Newa squeezed on that knot hard with his legs and finally, made him cum. It was a geyser, a torrent, a river of piping hot sludge that wanted to follow the path forward, and so it did.

Newa's stomach bloated and swelled, then his throat began to feel the lapping tides and soon he was leaking cum ten times more abundant than when he'd gorged himself on a few measly pints of precum. The knot had swelled even more, an anchor that saw its purpose denied, but that allowed Newa to wrap his legs around and avoid being pushed off that dick from the sheer volume of cum surging through it. And above the immense bulge of his stretched belly, the other cock gushed just as much, an equally oppressive output that was utterly wasted onto mossy stones, cracked branches and tree trunks. It painted the forest white, with thick, dense, glossy, milky white ropes, with tens of gallons, then dozens, then hundreds as each pump from those heavy balls never waned or lessened. It continued to surge forth, two ropes at a time.

One spurt after the other, one and then two and then four and then ten and then fifty until the area around them was a bubbling swamp that reeked of balls, cum and musk. And even when, ten minutes later, Vortex's balls gave the one last final heave and fired the last twin spurt, the two did not part from each other. No, Vortex simply flexed his muscles, now sore, tired from such powerful rutting, and then laid down. Newa was still beneath him, still impaled, still filled to the brim with cock, and now he was also being smothered by the cum-slick, sweat-coated belly of a multi-ton beast uncaring of how much he weighed.

The moss beneath was soft, soft enough for Newa to sink beneath it, into a human-shaped hole, unable to remove the immense spire lodged in his guts, his backside constantly stretched. Not that he even dreamed of parting, of removing himself, not for a long, long while at least. He simply accepted the fact that he was trapped, fucked so thoroughly he was beyond certain his body would never recover and that his entire digestive tract had taken the shape of Vortex's cock. For a moment, before his mind shut down from the fatigue and bliss, he wished the dragon had gone even further, that he'd lined up his insides and speared him from ass to mouth, so that he'd taste the very cock he was impaled on.

Above him the dragon himself was falling asleep, connected to his maker in the most intimate way possible, his form bathed in warm moonlight, his balls hardly any less full than before as the thick stench of his sweat and cum lulled him to sweet dreams.

Yet the miracles were not yet over, but rather, they'd just begun: so deeply intertwined were their essences, their fates, desires, needs, wants and tastes, that as their bodies, their flesh continued to be in contact, that their heartbeats began to synch. Soon after the very boundaries of their bodies was no longer such, one was merging into the other, essence flowing into essence, blood shared between them, their breaths one and the same, their thoughts and dreams unifying. Half an hour was all that took, for two beings, with one of them something that shouldn't have been possible to exist, to become one, even more unique entity.

When their eyes opened, in the morning, Vortex and Newa knew something had happened, or rather, the being that had become their union knew what happened. He flexed his muscles, both familiar and unfamiliar with the way his body operated, he yawned. There was no real need to wonder what had happened, no desire to doubt or to ponder: deep inside his complex mind he already knew he was neither the human nor the dragon that he was born out of, yet he retained the memories of both. His mind was plagued with activity, his neurons quickly rewiring themselves to account for the conscious thought processes zapping through his brain like lightning. And as his body finalized the very last changes, becoming what fate had ordained he'd become, he breathed and the sheer power of the stench surrounding him hit his conscious mind hard.

"MHHH!!!" A dragon's senses assaulted what remained of Newa's human mind in all their might, letting the new being smell every small facet, intricacy and the depths of that curtain of potent ballsweat and cockmusk alike. "Oh fuck..." He breathed in deep, following Newa's desires, feeling Vortex's pride and relishing in the novelty of both streams of sensations becoming a single cohesive lust for his own perfect self. "Goddamn I smell... ripe..." The new being smiled, licking his teeth as he breathed in deeply, novelty making way for a concoction of self-love and lust. "Like a stadium's worth of horny fuckers..." He spoke with a voice that was not quite Vortex's as he grunted with pleasure.

He stood up, shaking some leaves that had fallen on his large body during his slumber. For a few moments, even as he began to grow acquainted with his self, Vortex's identity slowly solidified inside his mind, the pieces of his consciousness slotting in the right places faster and faster. And, as it happened, he realized he'd forgotten about one very simple detail of the original design upon which his body had been made: his size.

Sure, he'd been huge, bigger than a semi-truck even, definitely heavier thanks to all the scales and bones and dense muscle of his bulk, but even then, now that he was slowly growing into his new self, Vortex knew there was much, much more of him left to summon into existence. And so he pushed, straining his muscles and the mystical mana core inside his body, the very same thing that allowed for his very presence, for his biological processes to work in the mundane world. Energy, pure power flowed from his chest into the rest of his being, and began to stretch him, to bulk him up, to fatten him up. The ground beneath him already struggled to keep tons of dragon without sinking too much, but now he was truly far more than the soft moss and soil of the forest could support.

His frame stretched to over twenty feet tall, then thirty, his shoulders widened alongside his hips, bones popping softly under the loud, cacophonous snaps and cracks of his scales breaking and expanding faster and faster and faster to keep up with the speed of his growth. The soil collapsed under his huge, fat paws, leaving behind prints so wide a person could've slept inside them that were only becoming deeper and bigger still. His cocks, girthy and heavy as they were already, got heavier, girthier, thicker, longer, their cum pipes wider to the point he guessed a human could shove their head inside and risk being swallowed within.

His balls far outpaced the rest of his growth by a great margin, always a bit too big, too heavy, to large and cumbersome even as he stretched past forty feet wide and nearly eighty feet long. At that point, other than his fifty tons of weight he carried another fifteen tons in ball mass alone, most of it in the form of hyperdense, hot, sludge-like cum that spilled from his sixty foot long cocks in tub-sized spurts that would've knocked up entire towns.

"MHHHH fffuckkk..." He took a few steps and his hips crashed into a tree, shattering its bark and cracking the trunk like he'd poked a flimsy piece of rice paper, not even receiving a scratch on his jet-black scales.

He stepped on a young tree that had already been partially uprooted by a particularly strong cumshot, and the wood turned to pulp under his meaty paw. Cumshots continued to echo in the forest as they arched through the air and splattered on everything in their path, colonizing the place even further with that potent, heady, mind bending dragonstench of his. His body heated up, perspiration dripping down the swell of his car-sized nuts, between his fat cheeks, caressing and teasing the large soft pucker nestled in between, onto the turgid flesh of his twin cannons as they slapped on his belly and left dick-shaped sweatprints on his scales.

Still he continued to grow, past fifty feet, twice as long, seventy tons of dragon ripping up trees, rocks, roots and flattening everything in his path, his balls so ungodly large and heavy they nearly rendered him unable to move. The only grace was that despite their immense mass, they deformed around his thighs, though each and every last squeeze made his cock yawn and belch with even more voluminous ropes of pure cum. The tingle inside his sack was so great that he guessed he no longer had a single drop of precum left, that he could only spill pure, undiluted cum. Of course, that was just a guess. But he did not want to guess.

Vortex stopped in the middle of a small path, one he knew not, that led deeper into foreign areas of the little forest around his hometown and craned his neck downward. He could've easily gone further down, taking a lick of a cum-slathered tree or into a puddle, but he was not so uncivilized as to do that. Instead, he opened his maw and wrapped his lips around one of his monolithic seventy foot long cocks and waited one whole second for the next rope of ball batter to be crammed into its piping and shot out. Just having his nose so close to his musky, sweaty, ripe dicks was just what his body needed to push towards the very last growth spur. His balls groaned as they spat out a cumshot twice as large as he was expecting, a pure beam of cum that filled his mouth in a split second and continued on for so long he was made to gulp and swallow one, twice, six times before that one single flex of his balls delivered that single rope.

The consistency of cum, his cum, was thick like honey, salty, dense, so packed with sperm he could almost feel the trillions of swimmers tickle on his tongue. And there was so much of it, so very much that those mouthfuls filled and warmed up his stomach greatly. Vortex licked his lips, savouring the cum still left in his mouth as he took a deep breath with his nares pressed tightly between the two halves of his pride. The stench, so thick, so ungodly strong, ripe, made him shiver and his tail lash out, cutting a tree in half. Sixty foot tall, well over two and a half times that from snout to the tip of his tail, over seventy tons of pure dragon, with an additional twenty in churning nutflesh alone and several more in ungodly fat, thick cock.

"Mhhhh oh yeah this is just what I needed..." Vortex sighed and finally took inventory of his surroundings.

Behind him was a long trail of broken trees and crushed trunks, huge ropes of spunk were splattered haphazardly here and there, and huge, deep prints were leading back to where he'd slept. He sniffed the air and took in the powerful musk wafting off of him, then leaned down and took a whiff of the pawprints, revelling in the just as strong smell of his stompers, admiring the sheer depth of each one, the shape, the size. He lifted his neck and one paw, palm aimed up at the slowly rising sky. He flexed it and watched, then opened his maw and, with as much lasciviousness, debauched self-love and lust, licked it. The taste was just as strong as when his human form had been smothered by it, he even remembered the feeling of having his paw worshipped by his human half, but now he could both feel the soft, wide, pliable pad under his tongue, and the smell and the beads of sweat and musk under his tongue and experience the feeling of his own flesh being so lovingly tended and tasted.

His sack groaned, both immense and loud like an engine and suddenly Vortex was acutely, painfully aware of just how much he needed to cum, how desperate his nuts were to empty themselves, not just spill these paltry spurts that did little more than to herald the true power of those orbs. He looked around, momentarily worried he'd gone far too close to town and that he'd seen, but deep down he wanted to be seen, he wanted for someone to chance upon him and see his cocks gush and spurt and see his huge fat balls churn and heave and smell his musk. But no one was there, not at the moment at least and so he simply, plainly began to fap.

The paw he'd just slathered in saliva began to slide on his flesh, back and forth, huge and mighty yet still too small to encompass his cock but it did not matter much, just being able to hold his paw around so much dick, to feel it throb and lurch and twitch like a snake the size and weight of a traincar, it was enough. The smell around him thickened, if that was somehow even possible, his balls groaned between his legs, fat, hotter than a furnace to the point the sweat pouring off their taut surface almost evaporated before making it halfway down their huge shapes. His knots popped out of his sheath at once, huge, so wide against each other one could've lined up three or four people by their height and still have had space left to either side. If he could've reached them without turning on his back he would've, easily, but he did not want to paw at the huge knots now, inviting and massive as they were. No, he wanted to feel his pads glide over the much more abundant seventy feet of cock he still had between tip and knot.

To use both front paws to fap would've been unwise, however: he'd fall, he had to keep three limbs down. His tail was free though and he'd fantasized many times about using it in ways that tails were not meant to be used. So, he propped himself up, anchoring himself to the ground with his claws, one front paw still sliding over his flesh, sloppily lubing it up with his endlessly gushing cum and simply wrapped his long, sinuous, thick tail over the other cock.

His twin shafts lurched, neither forgotten or ignored, each tended, teased and lavishly coated with cum in different ways: meaty, soft, car-sized pawpads on one, endless coils of thick tail on the other. And so he went to work, pumping his shafts, tail coiling, paw squeezing, tail squeezing, paw rubbing, one and then the other, back and forth. He put his paw in front of his gushing spires and let the fat ropes of cum splatter on his pads and between his digits before lavishly slathering that endless supply of sloppy, hot, thick lube on his flesh time and time and time again until his cocks were shining like gems, both from his cum and his cocksweat. Behind, his balls were groaning and sloshing, fatter and fatter as even the excessively abundant output of batter they spat out was not quite enough to keep up with their production. They grew, got heavier, began to squish more and more between his thighs like balloons filled with literal tons of dense sperm.

Around him the smell was thick, so thick it was slowly becoming a fog that could be cut with a knife, a visible, palpable curtain that would most definitely linger for days, weeks, months even. And the notion made him harder, which made him fap more, sweat more, pump out more cum and more sweat and more cum and grunt as his muscles strained to keep him balanced. Vortex let his tongue lol out, drool dripping down his chin. His hips started to buckle because of the imbalanced position, so he simply put his paw down and the ground sank a bit. Then, his tail began to coil around both cocks at once, bunching them up so close he could feel their heartbeats through their respective rock-hard flesh.

But of course, pleasurable as it was to make both his cocks frot against each other, to feel the way one they pushed on the other and the way the streams of cum mixed when he pulled his tail almost to their tips... he needed more. His neck craned down and he opened his maw, unhinging it so wide he almost managed to get the twin spires into his gullet at once. Almost. Even with his jaw so open his cocks were a bit too thick and fat to fit at the same time, though he didn't mind it at all. So, even as he settled to slobber and shove entire yards of sweaty, gushing dragoncock in his gullet, he couldn't be happier. For a split second he had the passing idea that having a sultry dragoness beneath him, one with a cunt so wide and accommodating it'd fit his prides, one to fuck and breed and knock up. That second passed and the next huge gush of cum splattered into his mouth, while his other cock spat its own load onto his muzzle, coating his nares in thick, gooey, musky ball batter.

Not even five minutes in and his stomach was already starting to feel full, slowly bloating with mouthfuls of sperm. Yet he couldn't stop and so he drank, he swallowed, he swirled his tongue around one fat cockhead, teasing bigger spurts to fill his mouth with, he pushed each one as deep as his neck could go, loving each throat-stretching inch he was able to fill himself with. The stretch, the taste, the flavour, the twitching and throbbing of his flesh, the heat radiating from those two lengths, all of it fuelled his lust. He continued to suck, slobber, lick, he pressed his nose and nares to the small gap between his shafts, directed his tail to squeeze them tightly and sniffed. His knots had swelled to huge, titanic bulges that would've easily cracked whatever sheathe was put around them, even if it was made out of metal. They were so large, in fact, that his thighs were squeezing on them just by their mere existence, but when he did put some pressure on them, they provided immense spikes of pleasure that sent increasingly thick ropes of cum out of his spires.

It was barely fifteen minutes later that his balls suddenly gave him some relief, not from their fullness, that was only growing greater and greater, but from the simple pull of gravity because they'd swollen so large that they were firmly, though not quietly, resting on the ground. Their rumbling and churning was not quite deafening yet but they were growling so loudly that he was unable to hear his moans of pleasure as he sucked on his cocks.

Unfortunately he could not go on sucking himself off for hours, days, pleasurable as it was: his climax had been approaching, lick after lick after lick, sniff after sniff, after a thousand tugs and squeezes and loving kisses. The first clench of his sack felt like a hiccup localized entirely within his balls, or maybe it was closer to flexing muscles that he knew his human self hadn't ever been able to feel much less consciously contract. The sludge pumped through his piping was dense, thick, slow to move even as his person-sized taint squeezed and bulged with frenetic activity. His shafts bulged, stretched from the other end as his knots somehow got a tiny bit thicker and girthier, so wide one could easily see them equal and surpass the width of his entire body, mighty swells radiating so much presence that he guessed he could plug even the sloppiest, most stretched-out draconic cunt if he were to have one. But he did not, and so the twin lances of cum fired from his hill-like sack was to be wasted entirely on the already cum-soaked ground before him.

Only his twin cumshots were spat out so far with so much power that they punched through the first line of trees in front of him, and then the next before hitting a large rock that he and his friend had climbed many times. That rock received an unholy baptism, hundreds upon hundreds of gallons of cum so thick and dense it was closer to honey or glue as it clung to the stone. That single first clench delivered enough batter to fill a small pool, it lasted dozens of seconds and made Vortex's vision lose focus as his entire being concentrated on the white-hot pleasure of his orgasm and the extreme effort needed to pump all that womb-bursting sludge through his internal piping network. Then came the next shot, just as strong as the first, just as immense, just as voluminous and virile. The trees in that were still standing were knocked down by the pressurized beam of white cum, sent sprawling on white-coloured grass as the power behind that second pump sent his twin shafts swaying slightly.

A swath of forest had been summarily, casually cut down by the impossible nature of Vortex's cumshots, old trees nearly sliced in half, rock hammered and battered, patches of stone washed clean. A thousand gallons per cumshot, per cock, each delivered over long seconds, with power comparable to water jets or a dam spillway. The third cumshot made the moaning dragon sway and buckle under the power of his own orgasm, his tail losing the iron grip it had on his shafts and allowed the twin pillars of throbbing dragoncock sway and move under the powerful and erratic flow of ball batter coursing through each of them. The next fifteen seconds of uninterrupted ropes were chaotic: the twin shafts bounced and pushed against each other, causing their aim to wander and thus subjecting more and more of the forest in front to be mowed down or bathed in several thousand more gallons of thick cum.

Vortex groaned and huffed, his thighs clenching around his knots to help speed the process along, biting his lips as his huge paws dug into the ground for any support he could muster to keep himself standing proud. Ropes continued to spill from his yawning cockheads, each one felt endless, so wide and thick that he guessed his piping would eternally be stretched and gaping, damned to be a constant reminder of this one orgasm for the rest of his life, unless he was able to somehow cum even harder one day. Four cumshots, five, ten, fifteen, thirty, fifty. Tens upon tens of thousands of gallons of cum spilled out of him in spurts thicker than a human leg, each lasting dozens of seconds, each capable of filling pools with hot, fragrant, pussy-tingling dragon sperm.

There was a small stream not too far from where he was, a little creek barely five feet deep that carried water from the hiding spot he liked to visit, its waters were clear and crystalline. Now they were a murky white as every drop the ground couldn't absorb simply flowed within it, slow, but flowing nonetheless. The people living in the homes built around it and further beyond around the river into which this creek merged would no doubt start seeing the water become white, the air turn salty and smelling like a locker room after a heated game. Vortex imagined dozens of families growing horny from the potent pheromones in his cum, breaking boundaries, shattering taboos, making mother seek out son and fathers their daughters. He came harder as he thought of all the children made as his ball funk, cocksweat and overpowering musk spread across the land, all the pregnancies he couldn't be directly responsible of but in a way, the one and only reason for it.

Five minutes passed, then ten, and the cum continued to cum, each rope lessening the burden of his sack slightly, and as the cumshots rose in number, more and more and more, his sack slowly started to lift up, inch after inch after inch, once again returning back in the embrace of gravity tugging it down. And, half an hour later, when the very last spurt spilled into the pool of spunk acres wide around him, his balls had returned to their rightful size, maybe a bit bigger. He felt them up with his tail and, sure enough, they had swollen so large that they'd gained a foot in diameter each, in a rather permanent way.

"MHhhhffuckkk..." Vortex groaned. All around him was an altered landscape: trees toppled and bathed in cum, rocks and creeks tainted with his seed, the soil so unfathomably saturated with his seed that it couldn't take one drop more and simply let the tens upon tens of thousands of gallons of his prime sperm bubble and slosh about. His paws were almost submerged in the lake of his own making. "Mhhh..." He made a step and the splashing sound made his retreating cocks twitch gently. His knots were deflating, his sheath yawning impossibly wide around their still ungodly fat girth, swallowing them inch by inch. "Made a bit of a mess..."

The dragon grinned, proud, tired, sweatier than he'd ever been in his life, both lives actually, human and draconic alike. He advanced through the multiple feet-deep nut sludge and wandered closer to town. Each step that brought him towards the settlement and its many inhabitants also made his frame, imposing and mighty, shrink somewhat, bit by bit until he was once again standing on two feet. He'd not gone fully back to his human self just yet, instead he'd opted to stop halfway between the two forms: standing around nine feet tall, a hulking bipedal beast of black scales, Vortex took on his anthro form. Sure, it wasn't as immensely imposing as his proper draconic appearance, nor as heavy or as well endowed, but he was starting to get too close to town and he wasn't sure he could fully become human fast enough to hide.

Still, nine feet tall and still weighing a ton was an amazing feeling. And, of course, he'd kept the best traits of his feral self: his muscles, his oversized junk and his paws. His cocks had shrunk greatly, if only to allow him to walk, his sack had become a paltry shadow of what they'd been earlier, but even so, he was still more hung than a horse and far more virile. His twin spires, resting over the swells of his fat, swaying nuts, were all of three feet long, semi-soft as the thick stench of cum and cock in the air kept him pleasantly aroused. The heavy orbs below were as big as watermelons and twice as heavy. A stallion would've found it hard to walk with so much virility hanging between his legs, but he had no issue.

Yet his mind did not focus on the immense shafts oozing and drooling pints of cloudy precum on the forest soil, but on the feeling his paws gave him as he advanced. Even shrunken down, he'd made sure they were as absurdly large as he desired them to be, large enough to still completely engulf a human's entire torso in an avalanche of soft pads. He could imagine himself flexing his thick, meaty digits and press down, feeling someone's breath between the gaps of his toes, breathing in nothing but heady paw musk, mouths open, tongues out to receive the bounty of sweat dripping down his pads. But he had no human to smother in sweaty soles, only the pliable soil of the forest. It was satisfying enough though, the sensation of his heavy body and wide, broad paws sinking in the ground, leaving behind large prints that glistened with sweat and all the cum still clinging to all the nooks and crannies between his pads, like a perverted trail of breadcrumbs that smelled like cock and footmusk.

The closer he got to his town, the more he felt his libido spike: he could see the homes not too far from where he was, he'd left a large trail of sweaty prints behind him, huge and undeniably inhuman, and his cocks were responding to that thrill. They were fully engorged, throbbing with excitement, spewing huge ropes of pearly cum as his sack groaned and churned already. But eventually he got too close, so much so he was starting to hear the sounds of people chatting in the distance and the familiar hum of engines sputtering about on the road. He could so very easily stroll into town like that, hard, leaking, smelling like an orgy, a one dragon orgy, and barefoot. Oh how he'd like to walk on the concrete sidewalks, leaving messy, sweaty dragon pawprints on it, but no, it wasn't the right time. Hell, he sweated so much that each step left some behind, a shining, trail following close behind. So, once he was able to see the roofs of the homes as clearly as he could see the tips of his shafts and the bubbling ball batter oozing out of each, he shrunk down again and fully turned himself human.

Well, not quite: he'd decided to keep his reptilian anatomy in certain parts of his body, namely his crotch and now his bipedal, otherwise bland and average self, sported two draconic beasts swinging between his legs, propped up by fat, cantaloupe-sized nuts. So much smaller than he had been even in anthro form, but far easier to hide among the normal human population. If he had to hide himself, that was fine, but pretend his virility was anything but at the very apex? That was a crime he'd not commit even under duress.

Clothes appeared on his body, a manner of simple draconic magic, barely an afterthought. He moved fast and headed to the entrance of town not directly leading to the chaos he'd caused by cumming his brains out. If he did, surely some would suspect he knew something, but he could just lie and shamelessly cheat out of the truth, unless something or someone gave him reason to come out and bare his majestic self to all.

Even via the entrance of town almost opposite of where the path to the hideout began, the smell of his musk was thick and omnipresent. He, of course, knew the source and the true power of it, but others did not and it greatly pleased him to see flushed faces, odd gaits and more than a few wet crotches as juices and erections made themselves known with no regards for place or moment. All over he could hear cries of pleasure and grunts of loud, sloppy sex. No doubt, in a few hours the breeding masses might take their lurid actions to the streets instead of hiding inside their homes. Maybe he'd join them at that point. Hell, maybe even push his plans forward a bit, speed up his claim on everyone and everything around him. As he walked he imagined himself as an anthro, his huge, meaty paws leaving prints so wide they'd cover half the sidewalk, hell, he imagined himself at full size, advancing slowly, his weight so heavy he'd crack the concrete and leave craters in the concrete so deep it'd form small pools of condensed paw sweat to lead the way. But he did not transform fully and he did not grow so heavy he'd make that fantasy a reality. As much as he wanted to feel his meaty, fat, huge paws crush concrete and asphalt into a fine powder.

He simply headed to his home, his own crotch fat and heavy, occasionally twitching so hard even his magical clothes strained slightly. In his home, the smell was not as thick, and for a moment he considered opening the windows to let it in, but why bother? He simply undressed, tossing his clothes on the ground and sat, legs open, on the couch, idly stroking his twin shafts as the need to cum started to raise its head. He smiled, stroking the two lengths openly, brazenly, any of his friends could walk in and see him lounging, masturbating with his immense fat dicks resting on his chest and spilling more pre in a single idle spurt than they could cum in a week of dedicated efforts. And still it wasn't enough.

"Mhhh..." Vortex wiggled his toes and with each flex they grew, fattened, thickened until they'd turned back to a mostly draconic form. A thin line of scales ran from his groin to his crotch down his legs, making him look mid-transformation, a quarter of the way to his proper draconic form. He allowed his body to bulk up a bit and gain several inches in height and several dozen pounds in weight. "Mhhhhh yeahh that's fucking right..." The couch groaned under the sudden increase in weight and the room quickly started to smell of dick, balls and his meaty paws hanging in the open.

He could see the reflection in the tv screen, a dark mirror to his reality that let him see how his pads creased when he flexed his digits, how the sweat trickled down their soft crevices and valleys. Vortex breathed it in and groaned before an idea blossomed in his mind, a great idea, a wonderfully raunchy idea that he couldn't possibly not follow through.

The human-dragon hybrid settled comfortably on the couch, back on the armrest, balls sinking into the plush cushion below, cocks drooling over his face and, slowly, curled his legs. His body was his to command, as flexible as he needed it to be, malleable like clay. In a handful of seconds he felt the softness of his meaty pads squeeze around his cocks and he groaned. He flexed his digits, grabbing onto his flesh and groaned again. He squeezed his dicks between the gaps of his toes, felt the heat of his paws seep into his cocks and the heat of his cocks leak into his paws and he groaned a third time. He watched as his shafts belched out huge ropes of cum up in the air that then rained down on his feet and flowed between toe and pad and he groaned a fourth time.

With great pain, he moved one single foot away and held it in the light, watching the glistening mix of paw sweat and fresh cum sparkle like gems before he craned his neck and shoved it against that sloppy, steaming paw and sniffed. The stench hit his brain like a truck, so thick, so dense, so potent, a pale imitation of what his bigger self could provide, but still enough to make his entire being shudder. He rubbed his nose on his paw, dragging it across the valleys between each soft, chunky pad, he travelled upward, between toes that were too big for his frame. He licked, he kissed, he sniffed and huffed and snorted and slobbered and tasted and savoured and lost himself in the worship of his sloppy, sweat-soaked paw until he was almost about to blow his load. He did not want to cum like so, no, he wanted to explode like a geyser, a fountain, he wanted to watch himself spill his seed.

With even greater pain, tongue still lolling out and face slick with paw sweat, Vortex put his foot back to his cock and started to pump his legs up and down. The sensation was pure bliss, the mix of soft, yielding flesh against his rock-hard shafts and the stiffness and blistering heat of his spires under his stompers was a dichotomy his mind could hardly reconcile. So instead he relished in it, flexing his cocks as they slid between toegaps. Vortex let his precum spill in pints, gallons over his paws, lubing his already slick pads until he was gliding over the textured, almost alien landscape of his spires, each nub and ridge and inhuman detail so clear under his paws.

The couch was soaked, and so was his entire lower half, his balls thrummed with unspent cum, his cocks were steel-hard, and his legs were burning with the effort of pumping them with feverish passion over every inch of his multiple-feet long spires. It wasn't long before he was feeling his sack clench, his taint swell and his cocks thicken with the first ropes of cum. He howled, his entire body exploding in size as his control over his size was relinquished in favour of pure white-hot pleasure. Below him the couch cracked and collapsed as he thrashed around and landed on the ground, cocks no longer firmly contained within his paws' soft grip and so they fired wildly. Ropes of cum, each carrying pints, gallons of seed splattered on the ceiling, on the walls, over his furniture, his body in gushes multiple seconds long. One volley, two, three, ten, fifteen, shot after shot after shot after shot he let his shafts fire with no restraint and no care for what his home would look like after or for what anyone walking in and seeing him spray gallons of cum per spurt would do. He came, came and came, minutes of hot pleasure, of freely spilled seed in amounts herds might never spill in a lifetime.

Eventually, many, many, many minutes later, he was on the ground, still, his couch ruined beyond repair, his living room coated in cum, his floor flooded, his ceiling painted like the walls around him and, without any doubt, his tv was broken, having been hit by a stray beam of cum once or three dozen times. With a grin, Vortex lifted up his paws and spread his digits: thick bridges of cum oozed between them, falling slowly as his paws glittered in the afternoon sun like gemstones cut by a professional. He smiled wider and stood up, slowly.

Outside he could hear the sounds of fucking, the most vigorous of which was happening around his home. With a look, he noticed the door had been somehow knocked open and cum flowed outside in a dense, steaming river.

"Guess the cat's out of the bag..." Vortex shrugged and sat on the poor armchair, which groaned and creaked. He licked his chops and gave his still hard and leaking right shaft a stroke, collecting a fat dollop that he sucked off his finger with a loud 'pop'. "Let's have some fun, shall we?"