Illithids and Dragons
Story by ShorkScribbles on SoFurry
True Polymorph is a solution to everything
Kinktober Day 21 - Monsterfuck/Rimming
Illithids and Dragons
True Polymorph is a solution to everything
Kinktober Day 21 - Monsterfuck/Rimming
“I assume I can trust you on this matter?”
“Sure. As if we have done nothing like that.”
A chuckle, shared though only one was voiced. A chuckle that made the Satyr warrior laugh and smile, his creases marked along his eyes and mouth, while he guffawed.
On the other hand, the clammy pink skin had no such crease, and only the yellow eyes, half-closed, betrayed content as the situation was… For the less curious.
A hand brushed the Illithid’s side, dancing along the damp surface. It went over the ribs, the belly, then down between the legs and thighs.
Sure enough, the Illithid’s genitals were just as clammy under the careful touch. Something that had been surprising… The first time.
Not the latest twenty-ish time. And not even during the whole shitshow in Baldur’s Gate.
Nevertheless, the Satyr’s touch was closer to the round and firm testicles, feeling them full, warm, and different from usual. Reshaped almost pleasingly as he leaned, minding the horns, to kiss them.
His lips danced on the slimy skin, sensing the slight mucous membrane that had that tangy touch, amidst the musk, and whose taste was… Acidic. Yet, pleasant as he passed a finger over his tongue.
“You changed your body?”
“I took inspiration from you. Your work has been…”
“Running wild in your mind?”
“Perhaps. It is a fair assumption that I might do more trials in the future.”
“What about now?”
A quasi-absent eyebrow was raised, the fingers leaving the base of the Illithid’s genitals, abandoning that cock that had been hard and harder… Whose uncovered and cut tip was exposed, of a glistening purple. A demanding and needy purple, much like the length when the Satyr stood up, in his own garb.
The garb vanished the moment he snapped his fingers and posed. With one hand on the hips, the aging Satyr remained pleasing to the eye. Lanky, hairy down his potbelly, right to his cloven feet. But his genitals, black like charcoal, were already dripping, hard, and weighing between his legs as he waved his fingers.
He was grasping at something, at the weave.
“Now? About trying something?”
“Sure. There is a spell that I have been itching to try. And you are perfect for this, I assure you.”
“Your convictions often led you headlong into danger.”
“This time, there is no danger. You know how flexible your body is and how I can wield the spells. And should you be afraid, feel free to get a glimpse at it.”
“I… It is an intriguing idea.”
“Right? Go on… Let’s move your stuff to get more room.”
Not that the Emperor’s lair was cluttered. Much to a fault, the Illithid had a dedication to tidying his work environment. Plans and schemes were plastered on the wall behind his desk like an arrogant display. One that was certainly Machiavellian. But one that did not bother the Satyr as he watched the clean bed fly, lifted by telekinesis, in another corner of the room. So, followed the sizeable wardrobe until the underground lair looked bare. Even the tiled floor looked out of place when the cloven legs hit it, and the Illithid himself rested on a pile of sheets. The virtue of not chafing his elbows and knees.
Preparations of grand orders were made, and the aged Warlock, balding and hairy like a bear, extended his hands forward.
“Okay. So. I have the plan and the spell structure in mind. But if I fuck up, it might not look good.”
The sole answer was an emotion like a sarcastic derision washing over him.
“Haha. Yes, don’t judge a book by its cover.”
The Satyr even waved his hand at the Emperor, watching the glint of satisfaction in those eyes before he shook his shoulders, arms, and legs, like getting ready.
“And… Here we go!”
Usually, such spells would have to be chanted and prepared with reactants such as an enchanted wisp of smoke, gum Arabic, and a drop of mercury. But such components were just a pouch away from the Warlock.
And as that pouch, set aside a while ago, glimmered… The Satyr’s shape began to change.
The skin underneath his hairy body began to take a redder tint, like spots appearing on it. However, with a closer examination, it appeared scales were shaping up and spreading uniformly across the Satyr’s entire body. Soon enough, the scales spread so much that the body hair receded and disappeared. A similar situation to the Satyr’s face, much to the horror, when that glorious braid beard disappeared.
His jaw, already defined, began to protrude outward while the top of his skull snapped back. His eyes, closing for a second, reopened to have taken on a redder tint with a slitted iris.
Then, the teeth began to grow while the Satyr dropped on all fours, his legs giving up on him. His split hooves were reshaping, taking on the shape of claws, while nascent digits outstretched the different parts. The ankles appeared and reshaped to allow digitigrade locomotion.
That Satyr’s tail, short and fluffy, became glabrous and elongated much like a rat’s tail before it swelled, and the same scales spread along to cover the tail ending with a thagomizer, a clump of spikes at the tail tip.
The scales over the back thickened, too, becoming armor-like scutes that ran from the middle of the tail back to his nape… To his scalp that had reshaped.
His neck was large with the head aligned with it, the jaw elongated while the front of the skull shifted to form a muzzle. The hair was gone, replaced by osseous growth mimicking it, over the red chin and between the wide horns at the top of the former Satyr’s head.
His torso and chest had elongated, his entire body taking on a more barrel-like appearance while his legs, hind and front, were powerful enough to support him with his claws planting in the tiles.
Then remained the wings, appendages that seemed to grow out of the back, protruding before they opened violently, sending a gust that swept most papers in the room with a musky wind.
A musk that was certainly just as strong as the one from the ‘Dragon’s’ cock. His organ had reshaped, gone from coal-like to bright pink. The testicles themselves had slipped and merged within his groin, becoming a bump between his legs.
But his cock? Oh, it had become larger, and even now, it was hard and out of its clammy slit when… By the end, the spell was over.
“Done! Doesn’t it look cool?” telepathically asked the Dragon while reaching for his jaw with a claw.
“It is… But I wonder if that tongue could be put to use.”
A remark that forced a mischievous grin on the Red Dragon’s face, smoke erupting from between his lips and his oversized nostrils.
His tongue, certainly big… And bigger than any arm, ran over his lips before the Dragon approached and craned his neck. The appendage was prehensile and talented, slipping along the Illithid’s back, coating it, and weighing on the Emperor… Before it retracted, slipped back, and approached the Illithid’s posterior.
Caked up was an expression in Baldur’s Gate that might have fit the Emperor’s plump and muscular posterior. A cake that looked absolutely delicious for the Red Dragon, whose hunger was solely satisfied when his tongue, wide and slippery, pressed against that even more slippery crack.
And inside.
The orifice there, nestled between the cheeks, was moist and prepared. No, flexible when the tongue tip ran over it, squeezed itself against it… And then, inside. Inside that rim that didn’t even resist.
Inside that asshole, whose musky and tangy flavors were even more intense while the Dragon blew hot air against the Illithid’s back. He was… Enjoying the flavor.
A flavor that was to grow the deeper the Dragon went, the deeper his tongue, much larger than anything the Illithid had taken, went. He forced, he pushed, he advanced. And below, the Illithid was quivering on all fours.
Not moaning, not begging… But sending forth telepathic waves of pleasure and satisfaction when that tongue started to coil and twist to adapt to the Illithid’s guts.
The Emperor’s belly was bulging, swelling even… But the Red Dragon still had his tongue moving, pushing… Even twisting.
In a way, the more he pushed, the more the Red Dragon experimented with the muscle. Its prehensility was a boon. A tool he used as he went against the Illithid’s sensitive spots, dancing over the many organs located inside the Illithid that were to be pleased.
If it were even possible, he would have used it to lick the Illithid’s tentacles… But in the end, the Red Dragon merely kept stuffing more and more of that sizeable tongue inside the wide orifice until the Emperor looked swollen, pregnant even if it wasn’t for the writhing tongue inside.
And pleased.
Definitely pleased when his tentacles tensed, his eyes closed… And his cock shot on the sheets, soiling them.
An orgasm… And yet, the Dragon was looking for more.
“Round two. My Emperor.”