Learning Nature

(Prequel to Fitting Roles)

A large clan of Dragons learn to amend a mistake that may have had cost them their food sources.

Special thanks to drgnkpx for editing and proofreading.

Mutual Assistance

Regeneration is still difficult for Nature, Jumendur thought, and still, with mankind, who bred like vermin, being gone, Nature doesn't grow again. But Why?

Jumendur's scales were of a pale blue coloration, akin to moonlight. His claws were both keen and strong from insistent and relentless exercise, being both a sturdy fighter and an avid hunter. Retractable barbs of ivory color along the tip of his tail helped him in retaliation against those that snuck behind him. Being a male, he also sported a long line of spines along his back and a set of long, thick and well-tended horns aroused the envy of other males as it did impress upon females, though he had no desire in mating with one for life yet.

Having known that mankind was not wholly driven away from their region, safe for a few hermits or small communities, who rather sustained themselves from the bounties of the earth, by what they call agriculture, they seemingly had relinquished the hunt for natural wildlife, at least since they saw dragon-kind. Yet he sought contact with an elderly human woman who was said to settle northwest of the dragon's mountain range two decades ago. Rumors told Jumendur and the dragons that she was a druid, proficient in weaving spells and magic, calling upon the raw elements as their source of power, in exchange for serving and caring for nature. He was called by command of chief Shuvir to kill her, but his instincts and intuition told him that a single woman couldn't do harm to claw-full counts of species, or even dragons, be it a single druid or not.

His eyes finally caught her form while she was carefully collecting herbs that thrived close to a nearby river. The ease of finding her confused him; Wasn't she aware of any danger? He thought while judging her shape. Her eyes were, similar to his, of an icy blue and shoulder-long shadowy hair covered her neck. To him she reached half his leg length. Her apparel was rather simple yet crafty and made entirely natural: A robe made of well-preserved deer leather, the sections held by thick strands of interwoven and hardened dried grass. Carefully dried and preserved green and brown leaves adorned the seams in a somewhat eerie pattern. As she noticed Jumendur, that female held her search for more herbs to harvest and looked up to him, clearly not expecting something large like him to land nearby in these reaches, yet not gazing at him white with anxiety as most hominids would upon a dragon landing close to them.

Studying Jumendur from horn to tail, she appeared rather curious about his visit, “Why does a mighty exemplar of wings and scales seek to visit a lone woman like me?" Spontaneous judgement on second sight let Jumendur measure that he could simply swallow her whole with just one snap if he'd be urged to do so, but that would rather be a skinny and bony meal, doing more harm to the stomach than sating it.

Instead, he just sniffed in her direction, having tried to discern her scent from that of her environment, gleaning a first, possibly inaccurate, assumption about her situation of life, which was well masked by various flavors of flora, but he could easily guess that she never met a man, especially not within intimate distance and hence he answered honestly, but friendly: “Food became scarce when your kind sought these lands, and still is, even after we dragons have claimed that land you stand upon whole. But you're not like those men, you actually appear to adapt to nature in exchange for her boons; I've studied you for a while from above and this is indeed what your masked aura appears to tell me; You cannot be responsible for the missing mending of Nature's wounds, can you? My name is Jumendur, by the way."

Raising an eyebrow and shaking her head with a smirk, she answered: “My name is Kallisendra, and what makes you think a single woman, an aged one, to do disastrous harm to nature? “

She smiled in a rather amused tone, despite facing a tower of a beast before her, having nothing to lose either it seemed: "Well. Let me explain what occurred to your kin. Your kind is why Nature keeps losing fauna and flora. Yours is why more wild gryphons seek your proximity. The legends also tell me that your kin flew and roamed from faraway lands, so your kind is rather adapted to nomadism than to sedation.

And your leader is irresponsible if he is in charge of hunting and foraging. But do not worry, not all is lost, yet. At least you are willing to listen. I can teach you as a representative of your kind on how to adapt to nature's needs and in turn she'd be grateful giving you ample supplies. All I ask is a small, yet precious price - You promise to help me and I will help you. My line, and thus those that actually appreciate Nature and care for her needs, is fading with me. I want you to mate with me for a half-dragon heir to serve nature in my place. Yet you will nurture, teach and raise the youngling for I am afraid I cannot protect such an unusual child."

Narrowing his eyes to thin, tiny slits upon listening to these demands, he had the instinct that such a union was severely frowned upon, not to mention how to hide the hatchling once it hatched as he was to care for it was beyond his imagination, and he was not even feeling frisky for the act ahead as that woman, judged by first sight, appeared way too small and frail to him. How is a dragon supposed to mount a human anyway?

Swaying aside the worries, for now, he simply nodded respectfully: “Your knowledge for a child. I am not entirely sure how this is feasible at all, but I shall accept that deal to put my leader down and assume leadership of my tribe in his stead using the lore I'd learn from you, for now I understand that his insatiable and insane greed is to be stopped for the greater good and that our current form of life is doomed if we don't adapt."

Kallisendra nodded in response: “Then let's consider the deal set. Follow me." She walked alongside the river, upstream towards her hut. This hut was made of stones stacked together and probably took several days, if not even months, to build alone as she appeared to have gathered these from the river's shores, more than likely with someone's assistance. Thick twigs and sturdy log sections reinforced these simple walls while the roof was covered with a large layer of dried grass as well as leaves, bound together by fiber made of vines, similar to these that held her robe together.

Kallisendra held her lessons outside because he was unable to enter her hut. Even a grown hatchling wouldn't fit in comfortably, so she went in to fetch specimen and scrolls they needed for learning. Jumendur, despite on the thought of recommending haste to avoid being suspected by Shuvir for treason, was a patient and able learner. Their first topic was the biological and natural order of hunter and prey and how animals interact, in which the smaller one was the prey of the larger one, although there were numerous exceptions to that rule. He even learned of plants that prey on animals. He also learned to use herbs as a medical treatment and of those that are poison even to dragons, or how animals behave given certain situation and how to comprehend their expressions.

To avoid any accusations or the mere suspect, Jumendur visited Kallisendra regularly, but avoided continual contact with her, resuming the 'hunt' about every sunrise and returning to the clan every tenth day. She taught him the first part of the curriculum before winter and interrupted the lessons when the first storm of snow signalized the shift of seasons, as dragons did hibernate. When the spring season finally began, Kallisendra continued by teaching him the mysteries of magic.

They started with a simple, specialized yet still useful set of spells like guiding the growth of plants to a certain direction before moving over lessons with more complex chants, for example to conjure a certain weather condition like rain. But like nature itself, the powers of a druid can also be less benevolent, guiding plants to do harm or restrain or even alter their victims.

Jumendur practiced singing to the roots, bushes and trees, being able to shape them to his command. He however never practiced on more harmful or difficult to control vegetation, but wasn't curious about trying either way – with great power comes great responsibility.

This night, on a new moon week, however, was different, and probably much to Jumendur's dismay. Kallisendra guided him deep into a far remote forest where he was to gain his first experiences to more serious plants. They reached a hardly illuminated clearing.

Instinctively, the soil below them felt different. Something dormant was here. He tried to avoid further steps, feeling the earth below giving way to his weight. He looked to Kallisendra who simply nodded, "Sing. Summon what is waiting below and control it. But if I were you, I'd verify what I was about to call..."

Jumendur took a deep breath and concentrated to reach out to the ground, estimating the size of what might lurk there.

But his spirit and thoughts didn't reach out to just one single plant as he thought...

This very being was all vines interconnected, webbing itself under the whole forest! This knowledge shocked Jumendur, but now was a point of no return. His very presence was noticed; he had wakened this massive plant. It was now too late to stop it.

So instead, he began to sing, at his most calm tone, trying to soothe the ancient being. He felt the ground giving way to the vines, one crumbling through after another. It disturbed his concentration and his singing interrupted.

He attempted to backpedal, swatting more vines as soon as he sensed them reaching the ground. But as he tore one apart, two more took its place. Soon he was grasped firmly at his paws and tail. Now bound, he attempted to bite at the outshooting rope-like plants, only to have his head fixated to the ground as well. He felt another vine firmly clutching around his neck, now on the urge to beat his wings violently.

But even this proved ineffective; several vines formed a tight-patterned lattice to keep his wings bound, then this abomination raised his tail and kept his wings and head low, exposing his naked tail-hole.

“What foul magic is this!? Help me!" he protested.

"I cannot, Jumendur." Kallisendra replied with a rather unconcerned, yet expecting voice: "If I attempt to help you, I'd put myself into danger. You now have to endure, it won't be pleasant, but not be lethal either. No student or teacher is persistently perfect, not even me."

He heard another vine rustle from below and behind him. Growling a warning, he tried pressing his hind legs together and attempted to lash out with his tail, but only managed a provoking wiggling. He indeed had no choice but to accept and observe what this plant might be doing to him as another vexing vine just shot up next to his head, close to his eyes, only to lock around his jaws.

Just a moment after all attempts at resistance became futile, he could feel an incessant, relentless pressure around his still tight ring. No, this can't be good, Jumendur thought and wiggled desperately in his firm fixations, yet uselessly as he could feel a phallic appendage mercilessly expanding inside his rectum and sliding deeper thanks to its spade-like tip, forcing him wide open, adjusting its girth to his capacity. It even reached deeper, searching for a sensitive spot – the prostate – over which it began to rub, fueling Jumendur's lust instinct.

This sensation induced Jumendur's arousal from within and he began to thrum as the protective slit of his shaft began to bulge. This strange plant sensed that it had trapped a male, now grabbing and latching intertwined leaves around his male-hood, feeding on the drooling wetness, coercing Jumendur to dismiss any pain and his predicament, so strong became the given pleasure, the fresh scent intoxicating his consciousness.

As his ridged and barbed shaft grew to full arousal, the foliage retracted for a larger fox-glove like embrace. It began sucking around the tip as it lined up against and then encased the shaft, enveloping it tightly. The tendril inside his tailhole hardened, encouraging him to rut the foliage while the tendril narrowly pushed deeper.

Jumendur's lust eased the intruder in slipping ever deeper, forcing him to arch his tail, still bound. As it reached deep enough, the tendril swelled shut like a hard plug and began drooling a sticky liquid which gave that dragon a sticky and burning feeling, but Jumendur remained, ignoring the pain while in his instinctive blindness.

Another instinct told him that his body appeared to change slightly, but he couldn't perceive that, instead he felt increasingly aroused by the deep penetration and the seeding, clenching around the girth as tight as he could – the urge to breed forced him to continue the ravenous rutting inside the fox-glove that still wetly milked his erection.

His spine thorns began shrinking slightly and his overall shape smoothened, he still looked like a male, but a much lesser, weaker one.

Moments later, Jumendur finally came and could feel a noticeable twinge below his tail at all the arousal. He passed out and woke another hour later, when the vines released him and retracted almost without any trace.

Kallisendra warned him: “You should better estimate what you are about to attempt to control before you reach for it. Next time, this kind of plant will have much more undesirable consequences for failure…"

Using the following day learning to control this kind of flora, with more care, though, he caught a deer, stag and even boars unawares. The only 'work' Jumendur was left to do was to kill it with fire or a precise bite at the neck. While it made hunting effortless for him, he found no joy in this easy method, gradually going to hunt just by what he was hatched with and only when in hunger.

As he returned to the clan mountains, he noticed curious glances from several males as they subconsciously sniffed towards him and Shuvir looked even more suspicious at him than he usually did. Something is definitely different about my body; I cannot be absent this long enough to be perceived a wild stranger dragon. Jumendur thought, even seeing glances at him that would signal a soon pounce, but he was ready to defend his dignity when necessary.

* * *

Another month of learning and practicing nature's might went by and he was about to learn everything Kallisendra could educate him, so there was only the debt – the mating with her – to be done. Although he knew he would break his clan's decrees, he still believed that deal to be inevitable. And breaking a sealed deal is more dishonorable than mating with females not of dragon-blood.

He met her the next night, having chosen to undertake this difficult moment while no eyes would watch them; walking with her while he caught a glimpse at her rather sleek form as they sauntered to another clearing, much like the one where he was caught unawares. But he couldn't sense any danger around them at all. Sniffing her scent, Jumendur still couldn't smell any sign about her having mated with a male human, but perhaps she was just masking her scent naturally, using plants and herbs. Things changed in interest however when she disrobed and gave him a view over her bare form when they reached the glade.

Instinctively Jumendur disdained the nude, un-scaled form. It felt so unprotected, thin and vulnerable as he circled her to appreciate her figure and appraise her healthiness. Perhaps that is why mankind made adornments of the skin from the animals they prey upon and he suppressed a snarl as Jumendur subconsciously knew some adornments were even made of dragon leather and scales during the war.

She barely had formed breasts, another sign she had never born children, from what Jumendur learned during his lessons, and her cleavage which is very unlike a female dragon's cloaca, would, by a judge of his eye, only fit the tip of his shaft if he kept out the barbs underneath. Not only turned him the lack of wings off, because the solid union felt more exciting for a pair of dragons above the clouds than on the ground.

Shaking his head, Jumendur growled unpleasant and rejecting: “We can't mate, at least not in the natural manner. If I'd try to rut you, I'd rip you apart. There's no way I could take you without widening you painfully, and the clouds are also out of question while I might drift to sleep when the deed is done. You lack wings and the strength to carry us should I pass out.

Kallisendra nodded, smirking: “And what about mating with me on the ground? Am I really way too tight for you? Let me see, my dear dragon." Sauntering closer to him she buckled down between his hind-legs, under his tail. Jumendur would not tolerate such an approach if she were any other human female.

She teased him using two digits, trailing them along his sensitive hiding slit. Jumendur snarled and growled a warning on such a disrespectful touch, but she insistently continued. For her, he was easy to entice and she dug her digits deeper, probing for his hidden member, accurately finding what she was looking for.

It didn't take her long or deep to reach the spike-like tip, as large and broad as her fist, moving on to trace alongside the sensitive barbs below. Kallisendra could hear him hiss impatiently, but he gave grunts of pleasure as well. Sticking the other hand in as well she rubbed alongside the still growing shaft, forcing him to get ever more enticed and she didn't stop unless what she sought for began to emerge.

With curiosity, she eyed the entire erection: The shaft began in a large and pointy spike, the cone-like form intended to part a female's folds right in the first thrust. Underneath she stroked her fingers through the long and dense barbs and felt a tickling sensation. She knew, like cats do, that those barbs were to provoke ovulation when the female was in her season. The shaft itself was rather smooth save for the hard ridges, their anchoring form ensuring to keep it deep inside while flying.

Kallisendra knew well that he wouldn't fit into a human female anymore, and wasn't, at first sight, disappointed, she knew that the rare half-dragon was born to either a dragon father barely in his adulthood or a dragon female that shape-shifted into a more human-like form. Jumendur, judging by mere eyes, was way too old to fit into the first stereotype and there was no time to learn for the other way around.

Curious about the gently sharpening sweet scent, she took a lick of the wetness she involuntarily gathered with her fingers from Jumendur's slit and tasted a honey-like, syrupy flavor. She recognized the scent and flavor as that of honeysuckles, so indeed the plant's changes took effect to him.

“You're an immense impression to females of your kind, but yes, you're right. You are too large for me." She nodded acknowledging as she stood up, quickly plucking a loose scale Jumendur hardly noted losing: "But there is another alternative, thanks to your change in your body, my dear."

She nodded, then narrowed her eyes in seriousness: “Stay and wait, I'll have to bind you for your own safety."

She began chanting a very pronounced song, causing the ground below to shake and crumble; Jumendur was about to dash away but he could feel firm roots spreading from the soil below, catching his paws immediately. He hissed and growled in a cursing matter, tearing violently at the roots to get away right when his wings and neck became fixated. Still managing to hold his tail low, he put further resistance, until a sapling quickly grabbed it and held it high.

Jumendur protested in a very deep resonating voice, ceasing further resistance in fear of harder retaliation: “Explain this to me!"

Finishing her incantation, she looked at him and responded in a similar intimidating tone: “I kept my bargain of the trade and you shall keep yours. We are going to mate my way. You'll carry and care for the offspring."

Jumendur, in a mixture of both curiosity and fear, answered in a low growl: “How would you go about this? Making me a female? I don't think I need to tell you that a tribe of my kind will never accept a female as their leader."

Laughing much to Jumendur's dismay, Kallisendra turned her face to a widened grin: “You already are female, my dear. The plant you were trapped in changed you and marked you for reproduction. I was very sure you would fail to control this kind for the first time, I even bet on it. I was right. And I already knew you were way overgrown to a human female."

She sighed, explaining further: "I had no other choice, Jumendur. Spells that shift your shape do take several seasons to learn and master. We didn't have time, talent or the right terms to undergo this. You were indeed lucky that your tribe couldn't yet comprehend your change."

Kallisendra shut her eyes and focused deep within her mind as she put the blue scale she freshly plucked between her teeth, flexing her hands toward the ground as she reached to the spirits of roots and foliage below. Jumendur heard a loud rustling and felt an uneasy ripple through the ground. The feeling of being unable to move his head thanks to the restraint amplified his anxiety.

It was as if the trees grew around him, in a quick pacing of time like seasons being seconds. Another moments later he could hear – and feel – a heavy stomping nearby. Then it walked around and now before him and he saw what Kallisendra did:

She used the spirits of nature to change her body into that of a larger male dragon, towering even Jumendur in size. She now had similar scales like him, her horns intricately intertwined and her tail as spiky as a hedgehog's back. A distinct difference, however, were the scales of her wings which proved to be way more flexible, much like feathers.

As the transformation succeeded, she stood up and gave her body to Jumendur's limited gaze. She remained silent. It was a beauty to behold, enviable even to males, for sure, but Kallisendra didn't shape- and gender-change just for sightseeing, no, but to mate with him. That dragon tilted her head, waiting for an answer, but gained none.

She shrugged then and walked around him, examining his scales and muscles, his strong suggesting shape before mounting him. She let the roots loosen with a wave of her paw once she bit him in his scruff, forcing him to relax. She knew he can't escape her anyway and shifted position slightly, now grinding her already wettened slit against his tail vent!

Not willing in any way, Jumendur attempted to resist this invitation, but his body began betraying him when his girthy dragon-hood hardened again. “Yeah, your body is quite eager, no? Don't struggle and it'll be quick, but very enjoyable." Kallisendra whispered into his earhole, seeing him gradually arousing.

Pointy, prickling claws scraping his scales made him shiver, but Jumendur didn't dare to throw her off, lest he'd fear harm. Those spines he had along his back, not only a natural protection, should prevent such non-consented assaults, but as they shrunk when Jumendur became bi-gendered, now scraped useless over the belly plates.

He instead simply growled, feeling shame over such weakness, bested by a bipedal being without scale or fur. Kallisendra, knowing that he'd be urged to resist, acknowledged this sign not as a sign of protest, but as a sign of readiness. There was no need to tarry further.

So, she pressed her bulging slit harder against his tail vent and gave it some more force until she could feel the spaded tip emerging out. The spade form prevented him from forcing the appendage out, lodging firmly against flesh. She began using it to pry his protesting ring-muscle open right as it slipped.

There was no need to pierce forcefully either; its form was meant to slip through effortlessly and once in, stay in, much like an anchor. It still made Jumendur hiss on the moment of intrusion and he instinctively shook himself violently. Kallisendra knew what he was going to do and bit into his neck in a nick of time before.

Sinking her teeth below his scales, prying her fangs between each plate, she growled a baritone warning that resonated through his bones and made his heart flutter. Wedging her claws closer to his leathery skin, she retracted the teeth, lapped over the notches she caused and whispered dishearteningly: “Do this again and you're sure your race will be eternally doomed. I helped you, and now you will help me. Understood?"

Knowing there was no way out, Jumendur simply held still, whimpering and waiting, but as he felt Kallisendra's thrusts, he but only could buck back in rhythm, helping her to enter deeper. His tailhole began embracing the insertion, already gripping around the girth.

Kallisendra thrummed enjoying while she pressed her tail under his, enjoying to part the folds of a female, never knowing how that would feel. She pressed further, until she was sure the whole length was inside.

She still gave Jumendur time to get used to be taken that way, taking his female virginity, but as she felt the warmth firming around, she began to rub, tickling the folds using her barbs.

This made Jumendur hiss and growl in unwanted pleasure as he felt his cloaca tighten, much like when he was taken by the plant. This time, however, he felt an incessant, unbearable and burning twinge in his abdomen, not relenting until Kallisendra ceased rubbing, and she didn't stop yet, she rubbed harder still.

She had forced Jumendur's ovulation and now began bucking against him, inching for the deeper folds Jumendur soon became aware of… and how tight he now became of fervor even, squeezing the dart firmly, challenging Kallisendra's might.

She hilted until the base hit his tight ring, forcing it even wider and more open, eliciting Jumendur's cries, not of pain, but of pleasure. The tickling ridges and barbs craved him for more and Kallisendra knew – she could only go deeper, no longer pull out until she gave what his body desired.

Driven by instinct, Jumendur bucked in unity with Kallisendra, forcibly rutting the air and feeding his pre-cum to the grass. He could feel his knot swell and at almost the same time a strong and warm bulge prying his tailhole further. He widened his eyes and whimpered as it slipped in. There was no return now…

“Almost my dear…" Kallisendra whispered to him, pushing further until she stuck the tip through the tight opening of his newly formed womb. She hissed threateningly, but Jumendur obeyed and just stood still, bar the still dripping shaft after he came involuntarily.

The now hardened shaft inside his rump was something Jumendur never experienced so harshly, however. He had similar sensations with other males when he still was a juvenile, in secret of course, but it never felt that painful or even pleasurable to him. His fears of whether it could get even worse were confirmed when he felt a forceful thrust and heard an ear-shattering growl from atop him.

“Now cease resisting." She grunted, licking over his back-frills. She tugged as far as the tight binding permitted and continued to rut him rhythmically again until she shoved a good deal past the cervix, coming inside deep and seeding Jumendur, hopefully siring a half-dragon, for the shape-change magic didn't alter the life-script the shape changer was born with. She noticed Jumendur was in heat, so she doubted it wouldn't take.

Pumping the live-giving essence into him, she groomed his scruff, trying to instinctively calm him down, forcing him to concede to his new fate.

“You'll lay a nice, healthy egg in a few seasons, Jumendur. The deal is now set, and don't worry, you'll certainly be able to raise our child."

He hardly noticed her comment, drifting away to sleep, still tight around Kallisendra's rod; She'd be tied to him for an hour or two either way, and was eager to make sure most of the essence stayed in.

Reclaiming Justice

Jumendur woke to the bright orange glow of a dawning day. The cloacal vent still throbbed but the ordeal during the night before bit more on his mind than the large gaping did. He carefully heaved himself up to his fours, sniffed and sorted his scales. He didn't discover outside indications to this impasse, though, but affirmed that the recent night wasn't a wild dream.

Looking around he saw he was near Kallisendra's hut and fresh footprints carrying her scent suggested that she went away patrolling through nature again. He simply wouldn't leave her without a good-bye so he decided to search for her by following her tracks, leading him alongside the river.

He thirsted and took a few sips out of the stream. That's when his keen eyes spotted fish swimming downstream. Thirst quenched, a craving for meat broiled in his tummy and he covetously watched the river-food swimming past. He waited a few seconds more and caught a bite at the next passing school of fish. His reflexes were quite potent still.

Now that thirst and hunger were both quelled, he continued following the footprints that led him into a different patch of forest. This forest appeared to be dense, making it impossible for him to investigate for her from above. Searching through this density either was ultimately futile, so he chose waiting at the hut for her return.

And returning she did, after a few hours of rest. He stirred quickly as he heard her approaching and stared at her accusingly: “Where have you been?" he asked after he gaped his gullet wide, showing his teeth, to shake away the stiffness of somnolence, “I did not want to take flight without saying farewell."

Kallisendra shrugged: “Well, I did not want to wake a dragon awaiting young either, so I went to do my work as I do every day. I've taught you all I can. But if you still have questions left, feel free to ask me."

Jumendur tentatively dug his claws into the dirt: “What will I have to consider regarding half-dragons in contrast to pure blooded hatchlings?" he tilted his head: “As you know, I am not hatched and educated as a female."

She heightened her eyebrows, then shook her head: “There's not much difference, dear. In contrast to us humans, half-dragons, when born, aren't as vulnerable. Their trait of having claws instead of hands enables them to walk on two or all fours all the same. No nursing needed either other than the regular catch of wildlife. I am sure you'll learn all this within time through newly won instincts, Jumendur."

Jumendur sighed, _as if all this was that eas_y, “And what if I will lack these instincts and try to ask the guidance of a female? I can't ask dragonesses in these topics without making known our little secret, Kallisendra."

Kallisendra frowned shortly: "I am sure you'll find a way. You have to. Go now before it's too late and that green snake discovers your attempt at treachery, or all is lost. There's no alternative."

Jumendur nodded, but what about her safety? He indeed had to force himself to the air and thus unfolded his wings to climb, leaving looming thoughts behind. His emotions pressed him to protect her as he suspected her of being in imminent danger.

He hastened his scale for height, ignoring the nagging compel of his mind to stay on the ground. From this height, however, he could snoop over the sky and relaxed as he caught a fresh gust carrying him to the right direction. No dragon or gryphon in these heights was within vision, so Kallisendra must be safe, at least for this moment, and he hoped she will seek safety.

While the wind carried him, he carefully planned his challenge. Shuvir was a strong exemplar of a male, making up for his weak sense of wisdom with his fearsome force. He would have to fight him outside and on the ground if he wanted to call Nature's aid in this battle. His ethics questioned the honorability of magic, but the rules clearly stated that whether under rock, under sky or even above – anything that lead to incapacitation but not to fatal injury was approved of. There were two ways on which a challenge for leadership ends: By verbal concession or if the combatant loses consciousness. Fleeing was not interpreted as withdrawal because the range of the battle could span, if it had to be, a whole island or a mountain range as happened twice in the tribe's history.

Death was not a valid outcome for this battle. Eliminating the yet current leader was seen as murder and would lead to execution of the assassin itself, whether it occurred through legitimate confrontation or by surprise, because mercy was another important virtue of a future leader. Females on the other hand were excluded from claiming chiefdom as per traditional demand. No female ever dared challenging their mated males.

Although it was held a public battle, it was a strict one-on-one whereas intervention, by dragon, indirect influence of fate or accident invalidated and ended the challenge immediately, delaying the challenge for a rematch after successful healing of the combatants.

His tribe and the idea of leadership originated from territorial disputes. The males of every dragon family fought for unity with the defeated family subordinated under the victorious one. Then the resulting clan decided to roam as no strip of land would perpetually provide enough game for all of them.

This was until the dragons met their most resilient rival: Mankind. Eventually, his tribe drove the two-legged scale-less species off these lands, but, as he learned from Kallisendra, the desire of staying settled did more harm than good to Nature.

Curiosity and the incidence of the wind made him fly by a nearby village and he noted the state of the community's acres. His intuition and memories told him that one acre was always left bare, but it now was the neighboring one to the previous he'd remembered before the winter that was left bare now. This got him a tingling feeling of an idea: Does Mankind give rest to the earth before the next seeding? If so, then this might even work with hunting, letting the prey grow before we predate on it, feeding on different plains in the meanwhile.

With that idea in mind, he corrected his course as the wind wafted him way too erratic away from the mountain. While flying, he surveyed the area below him for a good spot for his magic. Efficient venues were few and far between, but Jumendur judged Shuvir easy to provoke, so it was just a matter of time. He decided to rest at a nearby forest clearing, nearing afternoon. He didn't dare to fight in the night, especially so as his scales shone in an eerie light during a full moon, betraying his silhouette and giving him a disadvantage. Instead, he waited for the evening and then for the night to come, using the time to recite and remember texts he learned.

It happened to be a full moon night this time. While the moon evoked no empowerment onto dragons, the bright yet still soft light of it always felt calming for Jumendur. He looked to the moon, seeking guidance and counsel on the challenge ahead of him, gradually relinquishing his worries.

Jumendur felt sure in subduing Shuvir and succeeding in leadership, but question remained about the future for dragon-kind when he lost the battle. He decided not to think about a second plan as there was none to be had and finally laid down to rest, using the moon's illumination as a warden for any potential perpetrator seeking to assassinate him.

* * *

Strengthened by the night's rest, he took flight for the remaining course, reaching the seat of his tribe in hardly a second hour. It was still early morning atop the smooth rock, molten by dragon flame when the home was founded, being submerged into the bright orange of the rising sun. The deep, rough-hewn caverns dug deep dotting the large mountain however were shaded and cool during the whole day.

Only a few dragons, and more so gryphons, were awake when Jumendur landed. He greeted each of them he met and walked alongside the cliffs that were adorned with the tribe's history in rather primitive, yet thoughtful pictures. He was sure the next line of imagery would be about his deeds.

The chief's cavern was in a rather reclusive location, closest to the spire, quite distant from the other cavernous and complex tunnels, to give the leader moments for thought and meditation. Either way, Shuvir likely expected him to return and he was already, from the look of it, awake.

He was a swamp-green dragon who could have used mud for camouflage and his sober yellow eyes gazed at the approaching blue dragon: “I awaited you. Do you tell good or rather... usual news?"

Jumendur lowered his head in respect: “My lord, I was still unable to find promising evidence of the druid or her deeds you mentioned. I can fairly assume that the human you spoke about either roamed away from our lands or perished by old age." ...I hate to lie, Jumendur thought to himself, but I have to protect her.

Shuvir frowned: “Another whole year already, eh? And still no results. Next time you return I want that one's head! Rest for now, then leave to resume your search."

Jumendur was about to respond, but waited for an objection, though when none came, he continued: “I have discovered a way for us to sustain more efficiently. I doubt it's the mythical druid's responsibility for us to suffer a shortage of game, yet we seem to be the cause."

Shuvir showed dismay: “Why do you think so, Jumendur? These lands held food for us over centuries! What should we have done to have lost this sustainment?"

Jumendur knew that Shuvir was inevitably stubborn: “If deer, stag, boar and sow, hunter, huntress and prey, notice their kin dying, they'll roam for safe lands away from us. We have to give them time to forget the threat we pose to them and hence ought to change our hunting grounds gradually over the months. I assert you, Lord; it will work as I've observed humans treating their soil like that."

The word 'humans' made Shuvir's tail-tips itch angrily and a liquid fire submerged the shining yellow in his eyes: “Humans!? You are talking about humans? This bounds towards treachery…", he snarled and inhaled deeply, "You dare to doubt my leadership by preferring human tactics!? Who told you these words of treason to our draconic traditions? WHO!?" he then sniffed into Jumendur's direction, as if in provocation, though more to pick up his scent: “I see..." he snorted in disgust, "I believe that you mingled too much with them…"

He got me, Jumendur thought, there's no return anymore... Or it was merely a good guess with no basis of evidence.

Jumendur grinned toothily, almost maliciously in natural, instinctive and psychological retaliation: “Yes, my Lord... I do doubt your leadership for your inability to identify the obvious. You did not ascend to chiefdom by wisdom. You had proven pure force, nothing less, none of the brightness of a clear mind our ancestors had." Sighing, he continued: “An ill mind on our lead, strong body or not, spells doom for our existence. And I'd ardently amend a mistake Fate had committed with putting you into this position. I challenge you for leadership this day. When the sun is at its highest, we shall fight."

Growling the last words deeply as a resounding, bone-shaking warning, he turned tail towards Shuvir in another provocative gesture and flew to his own cave, preparing himself within the few hours remaining.

He overheard the trumpeting shout as Shuvir gathered everyone else of the tribe to make the challenge clearly known. As Jumendur was the challenger, he didn't have to attend the proclamation that spread like a wildfire to more remote caves by assigned messengers.

Remembering some recipes and having found both his pouch of herbs and his beakers still in his possession as he partially carried them back home during the lessons - at least he didn't assigned investigations around my hoard, Jumendur thought, he used the few hours remaining until noon to brew some potions.

Kallisendra took best care to assert that Jumendur not only learned the recipes well, but had let failure follow consequences. Though they were not dire or poisonous they were inconvenient enough to indoctrinate him with the right reagents and right rations. The potion tasted objectionably sour, but he felt his senses sharpening and new vigor seeping through his body briefly after he imbibed it.

* * *

Noon went by quickly, yet Jumendur could prepare and practice within that short time without any flaw. He and Shuvir gathered within a large ring formed by almost all dragons of their tribe. Only the hatchlings and the very old, watching over the young, stayed back in the caverns. The spectators watched them with wary eyes.

Jumendur knew very well what importance this battle had. He remembered how he witnessed the ascension of Shuvir himself, a distinctive advantage as he remembered his way of fighting and that gave him the ability to counteract his intentions, accurately predicting Shuvir's next moves. The only value to lose in that battle would be one's honor, and right to mate; Not that he intended to have a female for himself, anyway, and he'd be lucky Shuvir didn't caught his secret either, yet. That discovery would have invalidated the challenge immediately.

He approached the ring and eyed Shuvir cautiously for his brutal and usually predictable, yet sudden attacks. Shuvir remained unusually calm, more so of pride than clarity or even fear. Soon, Jumendur thought, pride will be his downfall – or mine.

Shuvir began the talk: "Your arrival affirms your word to challenge, Jumendur. By the ancients, I give you one last chance to keep your dignity. If you indeed shall succeed, you shall take my position, stepping me down to forced retirement. If you fail, you shall lose all honor and the right to mate to ensure that your bloodline does not to repeat your ways. Nobody shall die this day, but stripped of all dignity for life is an equal punishment."

The spectators all stepped back to make way for Jumendur. He put his fore-claws firmly into the ground as he bellowed: "I shall still challenge your lead by a battle over honor. Fleeing is not considered cowardice. There's no death, but concession. The one who is fit for ruling shall forcefully mate with the former. Hereby I affirm my challenge."

His reflex forced him to take a step back as he cried the word 'challenge', knowing by intuition that in this moment Shuvir would have snapped at him. Jumendur snarled in response. This was almost a breach with ancient traditions. Almost.

He briefly looked to the sky, not in distraction, but to determine the course of weather. The clouds were getting darker indeed. Good. Jumendur fought on defensively, balancing his stature with his tail and wings, angling his scales against Shuvir's claws and fangs like a spearman would push their Scutum, so had the eyes of his ancestors shown him. He first attempted to tire him out by his own aggression, but he appeared restless.

Given any opportunity to counter, though, Jumendur bit and clawed at him. Both combatants spewed smoke and ash as well, so furious grew their anger and the cheering crowd heated the battle even more. Jumendur subconsciously sensed the air getting colder and the light getting darker... the clouds he hoped for neared.

Then in a very spontaneous moment, Jumendur quickly leapt, turned rapidly and smacked Shuvir with his tail across his nostrils before unfolding his wings and taking the fight to the sky. He gained altitude quickly and, after being dazed for a few moments, Shuvir took pursuit. He only had the blink of an eye to avoid getting thunder-struck. This weather indeed inhibited flying, one thing Shuvir was a specialist in thanks to his endurance. Jumendur would be a nimbler flyer, yet he didn't have as strong a heart as him.

He wanted to use the dark clouds of thunder as camouflage for a short moment to pinpoint a safe and effective location. Shuvir already turned tail at sighting these already flashing clouds and began to drift below the clouds in search for his opponent.

Jumendur was lucky, very lucky indeed, seeing another thunderous discharge just two claws of sprinting before him. While his scales were naturally protecting him from fire – dragon fire, natural or man-made - they were not so a wizard's bag against the natural raw element of force.

Shuvir glided right beneath him and Jumendur exploited his lack of sight to ram his claws against his back briefly before evading the well-aimed retaliation. It forced Jumendur to tumble, but he still, losing air grip, managed to land safely, at the same time as the green opponent...

... who didn't wait long to snap at his neck and force him to twist on his back. The blue one growled, not expecting such a strike. His hind-legs clawed helplessly against Shuvir's belly. Has he lost this battle?

Not yet. Jumendur thought and he subconsciously called the roots below for aid, attracted and fed by fresh rainwater. He felt them expanding quicker, an increasing quake until they wound around the blue dragon, shielding him from Shuvir's bites and forcing him to retract his teeth. Now plant- and thorn-covered, Jumendur turned to all fours and towards the opponent.

"It is senseless to wage war against Nature." Jumendur spoke subconsciously, the words formed by the magic that he wrought itself in impromptu, "What good is greed? Did our clan sacrifice our finest of our kin to disperse man from our lands only to repeat their foul and thoughtless actions?"

Shuvir backed, but while he backed away, he clawed and bit at Jumendur pointlessly. The bark armor covered Jumendur flawlessly. "Traitor!" Shuvir bellowed: "The use of this kind of magic is a disgrace to your gifts of your hatch-right!" He breathed in deep: "You are not a dragon anymore, Jumendur." and loosened his flame on the wandering tree.

While at first it looked like it was a weakness Jumendur hadn't thought of, Shuvir, and all spectators who followed both, were proven wrong as right underneath the fading layer of ashes and smoke a new layer of bark and leaves grew. He snarled: "I am still myself, Shuvir and no, I did not side with mankind. I sided, for now, with nature. For the good of our tribe."

He lashed out at Shuvir and pinned him down with rapidly growing foliage: "I will force you to concede. Your leadership has caused decadency amongst our tribe. But there is still hope: We shall restore what has been lost and pay reparation through modesty and abstinence to mend the wounds we caused by tending to them and adapt to Nature's healing."

All the spectators growled tremblingly low in fear at such a display of power and, preemptively, lowered their heads. Jumendur was the clear victor of that battle, magic or not.

Shuvir wiggled in vain at the bindings which only became tighter the more he attempted to escape as Jumendur began stepping towards and around him. He dismissed the floral protection but left the bindings intact.

Now that the threat regarding the green dragon was neutralized, he circled him while speaking to him and his people: "Now I consider you defeated, Shuvir, and our tribe now under my rule." The crowd cheered, only a few dragons who were very loyal to Shuvir, remained silent, more of fear than of protest.

As he then approached the green dragon from behind, all dragons, even Shuvir himself, bowed their heads in respect. He disdained and thought about defying what he was about to do soon as Shuvir lifted his tail, but he began rubbing his slit at Shuvir's tailhole. Though he disliked touching a male like this, his male-sheath bulged perfidiously intensive.

His male-hood slipped out and towards the tight muscle rather quickly, challenging his contemn for this kind of pairing. Acting by instinct, Jumendur bit forcefully into Shuvir's neck to fixate him like he would any female as he guided his shaft through the still tight sphincter, as the spectators' cheers drowned his own low growl of dismay when they saw the unambiguous gesture of mounting.

Shuvir shuddered from the sudden entering. He had experienced such an act once already, of this Jumendur is very sure, when he became leader, but likely on the giving end, never imagining being on the receiving side. Shuvir wanted to whimper, but in pain rather than disgust, yet appeared to suppress the expression as he felt Jumendur's teeth sinking below his scales.

Do not whine now. I despise it as much as you do, yet I do not dare to challenge the traditions set in this very stone. Jumendur thought and wished he could tell him that directly.

The first stab wasn't easy as Shuvir's tight ring, was holding close harder than softening up. Jumendur stabbed several times with stronger strain just to get the tip in and as it slipped through, the ring caressed his spire tight as it anchored in, enabling him to push further.

Patiently, Jumendur granted Shuvir, and himself, the mercy to get used to that novel feeling before he gently pushed further until the first ridge hooked in just behind the muscle.

Trying to fantasize Shuvir as a ready and willing female, he shooed away any skeptical senses that this act was unnatural. Instead, he rapidly shoved further in until the second, then the third, ridge was set inside.

Shuvir, as much by disgust as Jumendur, instinctively began to struggle senselessly, only to provoke the rough roots to hold him tighter. Jumendur growled in protest as he was about to be pried loose by the shaking, but the ridges held him in.

He instinctively remembered an ancient wisdom, given from egg to egg: A leader not only had to show mercy and kindness to the weak, but domination and demand to the stronger of his subjects. He thus grabbed under Shuvir's scales firmly and pulled him with each thrust towards his base, increasing impalement to finally break resistance.

In the end, it felt so good for Jumendur to have his erection enveloped by warm and narrow flesh, no matter the gender. It however was a nightmare to begin with for Shuvir to be totally humiliated before the whole tribe.

Finally, Jumendur felt his tie bulging after pressing the last ridge ever deeper. Shuvir groaned and whimpered as the dominant blue tried to thrust it through the tight pucker, shifting the sealing through. It made Shuvir cry but he was shut up as soon he felt the teeth prickle under his natural plates around his neck. Seconds later, Shuvir's sphincter was tickled by the steady flow of Jumendur's seed which marked the inception of his demise.

The crowd instinctively started to take note of Shuvir's downfall, though a few left prematurely to more private locations, turned on by this act and the scent it provided. Jumendur, by tradition now the leader, couldn't deny the bliss this binding entailed, despite his objections. Glob after warm glob was being shot deep over the prostate which made Shuvir arch back even more and finally forced him to spill his own seed over the ground.

Noting that Shuvir, while he ceased resisting, was certainly unhappy about the circumstances, he whispered to him as he let the vines and roots around him loosen, with only the knot to seal him to Shuvir: “You can still help me with suggesting strategies, Shuvir. When we are back, I'll appoint you as my assistant, assisting me in decisions to make which I cannot judge about lightly. A good position for you to atone to your atrocities and amend your path you had lived on before. You'll be my first apprentice in tending to Nature as well. There are more pressing matters, but they will have to wait for now."

A new Position

It didn't take long for Jumendur, thanks to Shuvir's assistance, to understand what leadership entailed. His intuition was inquired for mere matters of misunderstandings or disputes over territory, hoard, catch or mate. Whenever he wasn't able to give wisdom in a fair and non-aligned form, he thought what Nature would do and ruled similarly. In a few more complicated situations, he had asked for Shuvir's additional insight to get a neutral opinion weighed in. Some queries also made him stay up until the moon rose up to the stars as he had to think about proper and objective judgment in confidentiality and silence. While leadership had indeed its privileges, it also made life burdensome.

He introduced the plans of sectoring territory by season and size, just like he saw humans work on their parcels, hoping to see improvements in hunting yields the following year. He punished disobedience harshly, even up to death for endangering the clan by depriving it of its food sources while those were regenerating.

Over the course of the months, he trained Shuvir, under the idea of rehabilitation, in the druidic arts while giving him the task of overseeing the integrity of the rules regarding hunting as his main overseer. He turned out to be a natural talent, literally and figuratively.

At the odd night, he tried to look for Kallisendra, but couldn't find any trace of her. She likely hid well, even from him, but his instincts told him that she was still alive somewhere. He acknowledged her way of telling to not being visited again.

As time progressed, so did his secret under his heart. He knew very well the tension will increase and one way or the other he will have to lay, so he called for Shuvir once only the moon hung in the night.

Shuvir was both curious as well as confused when he entered Jumendur's private cavern. Usually, he would want the night for himself alone, thinking in silence: "Is there an emergency, my lord?" he carefully asked, "It's unusual for you to call me during this time."

Jumendur nodded confirming: "I can count on your loyalty in this matter, Shuvir. Although you have been the leader before me, and you lacked responsibility, I still know that there's change in every life. I want to give you a simple, but very confidential task: I want you to mount me." he narrowed his eyes as he spoke the direct command, emphasizing on his seriousness.

Shuvir shook his head in disbelief, but for respect, did suppress a snicker: "Are you joking, my lord, or do you crave males over females? You appear light-headed. If it were for any male other than me, you'd lose leadership this very night."

Jumendur growled and turned his back, lifting his tail, waiting: "And that is why I need to count on you, Shuvir, and cannot count on anyone else. I though you would do deed first and question later… Why do you even care about my seriousness?" he tilted his head wondering at this unexpected reluctance: “Yes, there are reasons for this, and I am sure you can discover these via easy intuition, so there'd be no reason for lengthy explanation." he snarled in dismay: "Now do as I ask and don't disappoint me."

Shifting his wings and blinking shortly, Shuvir shrugged: "As you wish, my lord, as you wish..." he licked his teeth as he approached him while Jumendur lowered his stance in anticipation, although still unsure and unable to explain why Jumendur suddenly felt the need to get mounted. Most males felt much rougher than any female and almost every single one of the males felt it as a transgression against their dignity. Is Jumendur's leadership tainted by submissiveness?

Curious, the green dragon sniffed under Jumendur's tail. His scent appeared to be an unusual clean and pleasant one; Jumendur made sure to stay healthy and clean every day, flying to nearby forest lakes and sometimes rivers, perhaps sometimes he even used the fresh scent of herbs and grass to mask it further... but mask what? Shuvir sniffed further in curious interest and impatient instinct as he scented further, subconsciously proceeding by lapping at the thoroughly clean tail-hole.

The blue dragon became nervous to the touch by the wet and thick tongue, causing his slit to bulge as well. He shuddered at being touched by a male like that, but knew it to be necessary later; he shut his eyes in early disgust, although his body and its instincts craved insatiably after the attention, knowing what was to occur soon.

There was an unusual taste and Shuvir managed to identify it: Honeysuckles. This pleasant nectar-like taste coerced the green one even more, to prod deeper, to force the tight ring open, like peeling open a fruit. Grabbing his lord by the hind-legs, he pulled closer, to tease and taste Jumendur further and what he could probe felt like the silken, yet rough and wet walls of a young female. This well-known feeling surprised Shuvir... is Jumendur a hermaphrodite in secret?

No, Shuvir didn't need another invite or even explanation. Arousal originating from his tongue, travelled down his spine towards between his hind-legs and he, after withdrawing his snout, hulked over Jumendur, grabbing him by his flanks as he shifted and adjusted his stance for the erect, greedy, black and dripping male-hood, eager to satiate his lord's needs and yet, his own as well.

"You taste and smell like a female down there, my lord, a pleasant surprise. Those born both male and female are rare indeed... I'll keep your secret confidential in exchange to make use of it, whenever you order me to, within that order yet unconditionally. Your female half is mine." he whispered in his earhole, grinning frivolously toothily. Perhaps, someday, I'll sire a clutch with you and you'll have a hard time explaining this. He thought quite innocently, instincts high on the feeling of a chance of vengeance.

Shuvir growled intimidatingly and pushed full length in. The blue dragon wanted to hold his breath when he suspected Shuvir to do this, fearing his tight ring will break, but to his surprise, the green dragon slipped in effortlessly. He still gave Jumendur a brief moment to get used to it, gently wrapping his tails around the other's tail, in preparation to not let him escape when set in.

While it felt, expectedly so, tight, it also felt invitingly smooth and moist. Shuvir appeared to suspect correctly and inched a few times harder before he began humping into him, gently at first to give him a good feeling about the act, also seeking for a fold to hook his ridge in which he found just as easy after slight prodding and poking.

This gave the blue dragon the impulse to clench as he grew warmer and more aroused around the thick and long shaft and made his own shaft emerge as well. Contrary to the mating with Kallisendra, it actually felt exciting instead of that painful twinge he at first dreadedly expecting.

"Relax, Jumendur, you're getting too tight..." Shuvir grunted when he put his hind leg atop the base of the blue dragon's tail to thrust in with more force, making him squeeze wide. Jumendur shuddered as he felt his erect dragon-hood wrapped by a green claw. Now he got twice the attention which only made his blood boil hotter.

This was when Shuvir began the rut, hungering and mercilessly. It wasn't right; A leader was only to be taken on defeat, never voluntarily. In this regard, Shuvir thought that he ought to be the leader, but he was defeated before, by the one he was now mounting.

Jumendur, whose shame was overtaken by the strong sensations, began pressing back to the green dragon's base and into Shuvir's claw in sync, enjoying the tightness and being spread forcibly. Shame aside, it felt too good to resist this, helping Shuvir hook further ridges in while finding adhesiveness for his own ridges between the fingers.

Shuvir made sure to rub his claw firmly around the hard ridges; the tickling of the tiny scales covering the digits over his fine bumps and the widening increasingly become more and more unbearable for his senses and he gradually got more wet and spurted more precum into the green's palms.

"Do you enjoy it, my lord?" Shuvir whispered playfully and gently into Jumendur's earhole before he bucked harder to inch his own ridges deeper, provoking an instinctive and intensive clench from him. Jumendur snarled, not in disgust, but in lust; Shuvir noticed that he ought not to relent. One day, he'll have his revenge and every moment is best to practice.

Jumendur responded in a deep rumble, fueled by a quite feverish loss of senses to instinct. "Indeed you are..." Shuvir whispered to him, pressing the ridges deeper, so even his last can find its grip.

The clenching became tighter while his base and shaft became thicker; Jumendur was getting closer than Shuvir anticipated and this earned him a loud growl, enticing him to pick up pace while he shoved harder, intent to spear below the heart; he could almost feel the barrier before his tip, but to his slight disappointment, it was hardened.

Ah, so she's already carrying eggs... Interesting. Shuvir maliciously thought briefly before he speared firmly with sufficient force to break through it regardless, then after he was sealed shut and tight, ready for the seeding...

Jumendur gritted his teeth, feeling that his womb had been penetrated despite already having an egg. He knew by nature it can happen to dragonesses being mated while gravid, but it didn't mean harm to the already growing eggs. A brief second later, he felt the growing trickle of seed and at the same time the piercing prickle of teeth below his neck scales; Shuvir was really intent on claiming his unwanted feminity for his own.

He sighed, his body's needs sated, and thought: If I finally laid that egg, I'll have to devise a plan to deter him siring offspring with me; that could cost my position and the safety of my own. Why, Kallisendra, why did you do that to me?

A shared task

The pressure in his belly became more prominent over the weeks and it was apparent that the time to lay neared. At least his growing secret wasn't visible from the outside, but he knew time would tell when it wants to get out.

One night, however, when he was about to sleep, becoming more and more exhausted from the egg inside, he felt a sharp and persistent pressure under his tail.

Unable to sleep and shocked at how sudden this feeling came, he rushed for a likely orphaned gryphon nest in his cave – perhaps by his guardian gryphon? – and sat over it, legs spread and tail high. At least he didn't have to worry about a suitable site to lay the egg upon and about Shuvir's watching gaze - not that he'd know already.

He panted heavily, inhaling deep instinctively to ready his fire when any danger might approach him in his most weak moment. Fortunately, for now, he was alone, but he kept watch towards the entrance while the pressure increased.

Suppressing a whimper after the egg finally pushed through, he sighed as the bulk travelled down his backside, widening his channel to nigh impossible widths and stretching his folds. At least the frequent, yet merciless mating after the first with Shuvir prepared him for the orb, but the forced widening of his, still loosened, sphincter made the pain unbearable. He pushed with all he got and then the egg, a perfect pale blue and opaque shell, landed safely in the dried grass of the nest.

Was it the only one? He thought hazily, intent on pushing out any other remaining egg, but he got his answer when the throbbing pain subsided. One egg or more, it wouldn't matter, it would still be difficult to hide this secret to anyone.

He carefully sniffed it for any signs of rot or diseases, called to do so more by instinct than curiosity, to check whether the child inside was healthy. The egg felt warm and it scented healthy, indeed carrying a young as his acute ears could make out the heartbeat deep under the safe containment.

Jumendur thrummed, relieved of this burden, yet given a new one: He now had to hide the hatchling; howsoever it looked, after it hatched, but for now he guarded this precious treasure by lying atop it, hiding it from curious views. While it felt good being rutted like that, he wouldn't want to have any more hatchlings, as the throbbing of his still stretched tail-hole still reminded him of the ordeal. He swore he would never let anyone again take him, not even Shuvir.

Laying on his side, he licked at his still-widened cloaca, looking to soothe the throbbing pain with his saliva. As it was still widened enough, he had the opportunity to use the refracted light to examine his feminine additions and prodded over them using his tongue as well, teasing and tasting himself to learn how his new additions work.

Using the moment of solitude to let his body recover from the ordeal, he avoided any further touch of his feminity, noting that arousal only made his situation worse and closed his eyes to meditate, escaping further pain by absence of his mind.

Later, though, a female gryphon, her feathers blindingly white like snow, and a majestic looking eagle-like face forming into a dark amber beak, approached Jumendur carefully with a waking squawk. Her long ears twitched nervously left and right, sensing for any would-be predator. Perhaps the nest wasn't abandoned at all, and I might need any assistance I can get. Jumendur blushed, then nodded and stood up, perhaps she was willing to share the nest and he gave her the comfort needed as it looked like she was about to lay any moment as well.

As he gazed a second time upon her, clarity creeping through his thoughts, he whispered soothingly to her: “Sedria…" how could Jumendur forget about his personal guard! “Where have you been?" He smiled as he glanced at her form, her swollen belly making very obvious where she likely has been all the time.

Females were at the most vulnerable when the ordeal of birth occurred, this counted for dragons as well as gryphons. Jumendur learned this by experience and also observation, so he dared not to look at her laying, but shielded her from undesired views, waiting until she set her eggs, three on count, next to his. A small nest for a gryphoness who are used to lay a dozen or more, but still a good nest for a first one. Then he laid next to her and closed his eyes for sleep. He and Sedria would take turns guarding their shared nest in the following days.

Jumendur decreed that any visitor from now on was to wait at the plateau. He no longer permitted anyone to visit his cave as his personal residence for solitude. While it caused gossip among the clan about whatever their leader tried to hide, it at least kept his secret intact, for now.

New life

The months went by quickly, and fortunately, Jumendur's secret went unnoticed during this time, thanks to his gryphoness and his instinctual caution. The sudden change in behavior however piqued Shuvir's concern as Jumendur no longer offered his rear to him. Instead, Jumendur demanded from Shuvir to offer his place under the twin tails and he used him regularly, although not voluntarily the first few times.

Jumendur's still-recent ascension and his ability to wield the wilderness like a weapon made him a respected leader as well and he was beckoned by interested subjects to teach them his knowledge.

It was a druid's duty to offer those that seek knowledge to teach them if they vow to respect, protect and live in synergy to nature. Although only few proved suitable, Jumendur saw no harm in instructing them. He thus began lecturing lessons to those willing to stay a while and listen, practicing with them on the odd day from dawn until dusk.

He taught them not only about the animals they hunt for food, but also about edible plants, how to harvest and eat them and the mistakes mankind did when cultivating and exploiting them. Although only half a year in after achieving druid-hood, which he would still, as he knew from Kallisendra, be of the rank of a novice, he quite proved to be a potent teacher, so much his insight told him. The first pupils were the ones to gather the knowledge for future generations.

Once the very lean times approached, especially close to winter, Jumendur directed his fellows to eat healthy plants instead of pillaging the remaining animals that didn't wander off and decided to hibernate. In the first few weeks his warnings were outright dismissed, but came winter soon; they thanked him for the suggestion of such sustaining meal before the stretched sleep, when their bodies were, in most cases, at their weakest. Not so many dragons were bodily agreeable with weed and tall grass or apples, though, but as they tried again more began to tolerate the change for food sources. For those wholly intolerant to plants, Jumendur permitted them to keep to a small claw-full of rabbits and various little critter.

After spring, he would allow his kin to 'harvest' what they had let grown in numbers. And as dreamful thoughts have scaled up his spines, he fell into full hibernation, giving his body to the mercy of the cold winds haunting his cave. At least Sedria would protect him and the hatchling still slumbering in the egg.

A different Perspective

The hatchling awakened inside a dark, hard and dull confinement, finally rousing after a long and secure rest. Formerly this shell felt like a protection from the outside world, but now it was a prison. The awakened one tried turning around, seeking for a chink inside the smooth wall to break free. There was none, only brute force could mean escape. It was literally the first test of being worthy of one's hatch-right.

It noticed a keen weapon attached to their hands – the claws – so they tried to scrape against the firm, smooth shell. It proved no change, the solid wall stood strong. Frustrated, they bashed their head against the solid shielding while using their back to push against the other side for more momentum and there, a hole tore into the shell, filling their nostrils with air and fueling their heart - and fury - to escape this tiny prison.

And as soon as they put their head, needy for more air, out, they were greeted by a white and fluffy face with a yellow beak. The inherited memories hinted that this cannot be their mother or father. Hence they peeped and pushed out their body, then the wings and then the tail in sudden need to flee. They stumbled first thanks to the soggy, slimy mass spilling out of the egg and coating their body, but gained feet rather quickly. They felt comfortable standing on two legs rather than on hands and feet like the fluffy being seemed to be. Despite the remoteness in relativity, the fluffy – feathery – creature helped him up – the young one peeked down for a short moment and was sure to be a 'he', despite the inability to discern that so young – and cleaned him with beak and tongue.

He squinted around to survey the area and saw another large being with pale blue scales, similar to his own but this being slept deeply and snored. He tilted his head: could this be my… father, or mother?

A few minutes later another egg began to stir and out popped a yellow-colored beak and a little creature, similar to the big one that helped him, pushed itself out the egg. It tired quickly, though, and once out fell into a healthy slumber.

Even he felt fatigue creeping in; the need for the body to adjust to the new surroundings made itself very apparent and so he decided to take a nap himself, not noticing the other two eggs hatching as well.

He, still nameless, slept a whole day and still noticed that the dragon – the inherited intuition hinted at his own kind – still slept sound. As he wanted to walk to it, he was grabbed by the gryphon's claws – the white fluffy thing is called a gryphon his young mind reminded him – firmly but carefully. It cooed as if to tell not to wake him. He looked to the other little gryphons, his clutch-mates, and they slept as well.

The two-legged one grumbled, he didn't feel like sleeping and instead surveyed the stone that made this cave. Shifting its wings as if to say 'oh well', the gryphon instead walked outside the cave, probably going hunting and so the best idea was to wait idly if not to rest. Curiosity led the small one to go outside as well, but as snowflakes touched his nostrils, he shook violently, instinctively hating the cold, and instead stayed inside.

* * *

And hunting the gryphon indeed did. It returned with several rabbits and divided them to him and his siblings. The two-legged tilted his head as he sniffed at the limp furry body and placed it down before he breathed his fire on it. His instincts preferred food cooking, but his first try left it crispy, so he tore away the charred crust before tearing into the warm and bloody flesh with young yet hungry teeth. The first weeks, and the next month were simply defined by slumber and hunger.

Later however, as spring neared, Jumendur finally awoke and saw his son for the first time and a clutch of three healthy gryphlets. He identified one of them as a male and called him Dagur, whose feathery coloration much resembled that of his mother, the other two were females and he named them Ceria, with fair brown plumes, and Nima whose downs are a mix of grey and a darker brown. He chose to give his boy the name Ikram. When he could, he would show him the wildlife and nature, but, for now, kept his existence as confidential as possible. He only entrusted Shuvir with Ikram's hatching, still wary about any sign of treachery Shuvir might tread about. Shuvir looked at Ikram with curiosity and somewhat with dismay, but also knew that if he crossed his leader he'd lose even more than he had ever lost, perhaps his very life. The first year was thus a safe one for father and son. Shuvir helped Jumendur with day-to-day work and also took care of Ikram when Sedria was hunting again. Instinctively, though, Ikram disliked Shuvir…

When it was winter again, however, it was the time of loneliness, save the gryphons, for Ikram. While his father and Shuvir sought to sleep through the cold and chilling season, his body sought the same, yet his mind sought to stay up and so he became immune to the urge of hibernation. He knew his father, but not his mother. Yet for him, Sedria was a mother and the gryphon hatchlings his siblings.

And he played with them the childhood games little dragons, gryphons or even humans would play, which worked well within the complex cavern system surrounding Jumendur's secure stone walls and the nearby ground vicinity as long as they mind the ledges, giving many places to hide creatively.

As soon as it became night however, he fell asleep and lived through hazy memories that weren't his, but they taught him like a mother would teach their young: Visions from his father and his ancestors alike, inherited from egg to egg. When the dreams became scarier though, Ikram quickly roused and Sedria would take heart immediately, calming him down with her soft and pristine feathers.

* * *

Half a decade went by over time when sleep, eat, playing became a routine and Ikram began learning to speak. He learned the tongue of the dragons, taught by Jumendur and he immediately began training him in matters of nature privately, alongside the usual basics a dragon, father or mother, would teach their young. It is an unusually quick progressing childhood in Jumendur's eyes, but the lack of time was made up for with the unquenchable thirst for knowledge his human side seemed to provide.

And especially this made Jumendur worry even more: Ikram turned out to be more human than he liked. His fears were confirmed that the wings lacked size and prominence for more than gliding, so during the late afternoons he pretended to go for a survey of the territory, yet in secret surveyed peaceful humans from far above for their craft to teach this to his son as well. Too bad teaching Ikram the art of flying, an invaluable gift to any dragon, would be infeasible.

At first it wasn't effective or even easy to teach him the arts of the two-legged ones with mere words, so he attempted to instruct him sharing his memories instead. This type of communication proved unusual and ambiguous for Ikram at first, but as soon as he got used to it, pictures showed more than thousand words could.

As expected, Ikram learned essential human craftsmanship, at least the less dangerous ones, quickly as well, so Jumendur had less to worry about the day once Ikram had to be set free. Now there was only the way of hunting to be taught, but Jumendur would wait with that until Ikram grew older. and he asserted much during that time that his son would never forget the newly-acquired knowledge.

As for his siblings, they went their own way when Ikram turned four. All but Dagur left for their own adventures, maturing on their further journeys. Gryphons left their home nests when they saw their first seasons, exploring to understand their environment and the lands nearby in search for a place to nest later in their life.

In place of the two that left, Sedria laid and hatched a dozen. The cave would never be silent again once the new brothers and sisters hatched. It's a mystery to both Jumendur and Sedria to why Dagur decided to stay, but it made Ikram glad that at least one of his friends stayed with him.

He however envied him for his ability of flight. While he had wings, he hardly can make them flap. He even tried using the draught on a thunderous day haunting nearby the cavern entry, to get a grip on the stream while all the feathery heads backed away in fear of the loudness of the storm, but his muscles were too weak to get aloft. He could still glide, but it wouldn't be all the same. He was unable to keep air under his wings.

One day, Dagur perceived his friend's dolefulness and offered him to climb on his back. Ikram declined at first when both of them were under the watchful eyes of Jumendur and Sedria, but as soon as the winter approached, he grasped the opportunity, with a cocking eye of his foster mother who tolerated this approach. She seemed to instinctively know what Dagur was about to do and why.

His curiosity got gratified with a sight his father never feasibly provided him or even perceived himself: Whole regions - forests, even small settlements and mountains all covered in a thick white layer of snow. Hardly any form of life appeared to roam over this blanket and if there was, it was well hidden.

Dagur trained well when he learned flying with his siblings under Sedria's watch, able to undergo acrobatic maneuvers that made even dragons look astounded at him.

The chilling wind made Ikram shiver, for his metabolism wasn't made with cold in mind (hence all dragons hibernate to survive), but Dagur's warmth kept him awake so he could savor this unique sight. His heart ached that he would never have such a vision on his own; the fur and feathers he sat upon however solaced him. He wasn't alone, Dagur would be his wings if he was willing.

Everything appeared so tiny below him - this was what he dreamed about flying and yearned for once out of his egg. Once the sun was about to set, though, Dagur turned back to the common cave as he wasn't able to see under the stars, unlike the dragons, able to discern details even in the darkest blackness. Back on the ground, Ikram slept next to him.

Caught in the back

As the 8th season passed, the hoard became almost vacated again. Every relative but Dagur, Jumendur and Sedria left the nest. This time she was nest-less, having found no interest nor desire in another mate.

Jumendur began teaching Ikram in the arts of scribing and painting, as that age was usual for hatchlings to learn the lore of the community they grew up with and even learn to write and picture their own. Inherent knowledge through the blood of Jumendur was an insufficient teacher, but a confirmation of that what was taught.

Although he was able to hide his son for so long, it became increasingly difficult to do so, but he deemed him yet unfit for the clan and outside world. As was for his other secret which was harder to suppress with each passing season, but he fought on the urges. He skipped attendance to the yearly ceremony on which those that were unmated seek another sharing their fate. In fact, he only attended the first day, surveying the appropriate start of the ceremony.

Staying at the ceremony would certainly induce instinctual madness for him, twice as much for being a hermaphrodite in secret. It was not only a mundane time of talk and courting, but also one of actions, and the scents certainly spoke for the deeds done during these days. Scents he couldn't focus within their presence, even if he tried to coat the air using sharp but good smelling oils.

Despite his absence, he gained the favor of many females just for his position and intelligence, especially from the stronger and beautiful ones, but declined each of them on grounds of neutrality, unable to rule without bias if he was to take a mate of a certain line. -He never thought about a mate before he became leader, and he'd rather not have a mate for now, at least.

Curiously, though, Jumendur gleaned from gossip that Shuvir has decided for the same reasons before he was put down as leader, but he didn't reason for neutrality, he merely just didn't want to share his might his position entailed.

Jumendur bathed often, alone, far from the mountain range when he had the chance to do so during these times. His own scent became unusually strong at these times of the year and he certainly did not want to attract any males at all.

He chose a nearby cave close to the lake to let his scales dry, using the cool airflow during these hot days, feeling too vulnerable in the open. He didn't notice, although he kept wary watch the deeper he went into the cavern, illuminated by strange fungi, that he was followed by someone else…

He was pushed down to the rocky ground by a larger grey dragon who began sniffing at his tail-hole and grinned curiously. This one didn't rely on strength, but on cunning. He seemed lean, almost bony, but that just added to his almost cat-like stance.

Jumendur snarled a warning and narrowed his eyes, hardly able to see back. He lashed his tail down, smacking the grey over his nose and kept his tail to the ground to protect his dignity.

“You're hiding something, my lord." The grey one grumbled in response, resisting any further attempts to shoo him away, “I can easily guess what, from this scent…" he licked his teeth and lapped wetly over Jumendur's tail-hole, despite initial resistance as he grabbed his hind legs, “If I could, I'd just simply rut you, and you'd probably lay my eggs the next season."

The grey dragon nibbled at Jumendur's spines as he slowly swiped his tail over the blue one, then tilted his head: “Perhaps we should try to see if that happens, shall we?"

Jumendur snarled objectionably. He wasn't keen on growing a clutch of hatchlings, especially not on one conceived by force. Yet he could feel the grey dragon's tail wrapping tightly around his own and lifting it as he stood up over him and bit in his neck before he pressed the emerging tip at the still tight cloacal vent.

Growling, Jumendur wriggled in resistance, knowing all too well how Kallisendra took him. He didn't want that to happen again, but the violator kept him in check. The hungered look seemed an illusion, hiding the true strength of this natural fighter as he held his prize firm to the ground below him.

As his shaft slowly grew, he began rubbing it as it hardened over the tail-hole, covering him with precum in preparation. Jumendur whimpered and again tried to dart away under the larger one, to no avail as this just earned him more punctured scales from claws that dug in between them. Jumendur was now at the mercy of that male and at the mercy of Fate, not just for him, but also for his cause at protecting his clan from avoidable demise.

He wasn't of the patient sort, shoving in mercilessly as soon as the shaft stiffened, parting the first few folds easily. Jumendur felt the tickling barbs, but no twinge which would betray his season… still, the grey one didn't cease rubbing and pressed deeper, trying to rub there. It made Jumendur nervous and aroused him at the same time as his male-hood began to show as well.

“Not in heat, I guess?" he asked, “That is of no matter though, females lay one or the other surprise clutch still…" he whispered in a terrifying tone, shoving in full with just one powerful thrust. Then he clawed him by the vulnerable flanks, right under the wings and heaved his full body over as he began to rut Jumendur. Scratch marks would be a mean evidence.

He cried in resistance, in fat chance that someone would listen to his distress, but who would intervene so remote from the clan?

He still cried at each hump, although his body betrayed him yet again, covetously clenching around the hot rod as his own fully erect shaft began to drip precum and was ground against the dry and cold rock. It looked like he had no choice but to oblige.

“Nobody will hear you mating with me, hermaphrodite…" the grey responded to the cries and he bit harder, pumping deeper, pressing his slit against Jumendur's tail-vent “Perhaps soon you should look for a good hidey hole for your young, perhaps this very cave? A leader with young and not a mate is very suspicious, to say the least…"

Jumendur growled, “You… you don't know what you're… doing! Sire them and you'll bury all hope you… I… our Clan ever had… to sustain these dark times!" he cried louder, his will still intact.

“Oh, I know what I am doing…" the grey whispered as he ground the slit over Jumendur's sphincter before he shoved a good deal harder, “I am proving a betrayal over our tribe. Just enjoy our union. You'd be a fine dam for me. And I promise you, concede to me and I'll care well for you…"

He then bit hard and firm, ignoring Jumendur's plea, and pressed himself tighter on him, silencing him with each firmer thrust. Jumendur still resisted, as much as his will allowed and got punished by more bite marks and the painful sting of the hind-leg claws directly below his wings. The grey one also slowed down to provoke his clenching, only to rub almost as painful over the folds using his barbs.

“I told you to enjoy our union… but if you insist in it being painful, so be it." He grumbled, yet held still, waiting, “I'll give you this one chance… cease resisting and it'll be a mating to remember. So?"

Jumendur felt the grey one's shaft pulsing… he must be close to climax. He breathed in deeply, trying to concentrate against the scent, the mounting and the pain… was there really no way out but the risk of impregnation?

“Leave me be…" Jumendur sighed and responded weakly, “For the good of our tribe…" he hoped to appeal to the conscience of the male at showing how hard the grey broke him, but that unwanted mate snarled instead…

“No." the male responded, mercilessly he bit deep, hitting Jumendur's leather with bare teeth and he could feel wounds punctured open. Nothing too lethal, though. He rutted him hard, ignoring his cries and now breaking his final resistance – Jumendur panted heavily, losing concentration to instinct as his body voluntarily ground the shaft over the rock and bucked back, helping the grey pierce deeper, distending his rear with each pound.

In his hazy moments, Jumendur felt the swollen base being pushed through the widened sphincter, he also seeded the floor while his channel clenched hard around the length…

The grey shoved a good deal deeper before he himself came, ensuring a sufficient flooding for Jumendur's womb while sealing his cloaca, hopefully siring his eggs; He also made sure Jumendur wouldn't forget him by pressing himself firmly atop him as he filled him.

* * *

This night haunted Jumendur every day for several weeks until he had a clear and fortunate indication that he was not with eggs…

Still, he avoided wandering alone during these weeks and even months and became more vigilant against other, similar traitors, especially making note of that one who attacked his dignity.

That traitor, though, couldn't be found among the clan anymore, fleeing due justice, perhaps for life as he discovered his attempt on breeding him wasn't successful.

Art of Hunting and Crafting

After the 13th spring, Jumendur determined it to be best now for Ikram to be trained in the art of hunting and that he'd be introduced to the clan. While Ikram was met with large dismay, Jumendur made clear that he is to stay until he could live on his own. For now, Ikram enjoyed the protection of his father as well as the entire dragon clan, though the others provided the protection not so much voluntarily.

Shuvir already knew about him, yet still kept silent and mentally noted that this might be a worthy weakness, in addition to his secret female side, to get Jumendur to step down one day in the future, once Ikram left.

The forest became a whole different experience for Ikram, everything bright and colorful as well as dense. Although Ikram has seen such lands from high above atop his friend's back, seeing it from the ground was a complete different view and experience. Jumendur taught him the basics, such as to make sure the wind is originating from the prey and not vice versa and that it's often best to let your catch come closer than to chase, or in Jumendur's case fly, after it.

Ikram was taught to and attempted to hunt just with his bare claws, teeth and weight. While his claws and teeth did little but scratch open minor bleeding wounds to the deer he latched on and his light weight, in comparison to adult dragons that is, hardly wore his catch down. Only the very valuable fire was all that he had left.

But later, after weeks of practice, he managed to make his first catch and was proud about it. Jumendur snorted at the rather unconventional way (considering dragons, again) of hunting, but catch was catch and thus Ikram passed in proving his ability to provision himself on his own when the time to do so is due.

Ikram knew that his bare claws and teeth, while still a potent weapon, were not meant to catch prey like his larger kin was used to do with. He thus worked on a double-edged spear, using his breath to keep the smith-fire alive. Jumendur looked at the result of that craft with disdain and depreciation, though not his son was to blame, but inherited and self-experienced looming memories of past weapons man waged war with against their ancestor's scales and leather.

Yet, like humans do, his son needed these tools as well to manage survival. And though he had no direct teacher for those arts of crafting tools, he managed well, in the eye of a dragon, that is. Instinctual fear that his son might one day get back on him using this knowledge crept up his spine on the sight of that craft, but no hatchling ever dared fighting their sire. And even if so, dark memories Ikram should as well have inherited should deter him from doing.

With only his curiosity and intuitiveness, Ikram regularly practiced the use of this weapon, even while riding on Dagur's back. If he wouldn't fear the scale-less two-legged ones, he might try to practice with them, but didn't dare so, fearing his father's dismay and past memories also hinted at the savagery of their kind.

He wasn't alone this time of life, though – Sedria brought five siblings to the world. As he was old enough, he and Dagur used opportunities to assist her in hunting for the little ones. It helped him practicing his skills at large as well.

These hunts, however, almost made him contact humans. Rumors of adult dragons told him of nearby lizard-folk which he could easily pass as a member of them, bar the wings, they were also said to trade with mankind unless there was war between them, but at least they would deter another war on the dragons.

When he skulked through the nearby mire, he froze in surprise when he came across one of them, mistaking them for one of his own kind. Instinctual mistrust forced him to stay alert and observe that strange being.

The thick air made concentration very difficult, although the warmth felt pleasuring to him, fog made it hard to see far and to make out shapes and he had to be careful for any creeping and dangerous creature making use of such ample camouflage to surprise their victims.

He followed carefully and as silently as possible. Ikram studied this being, and it looked like a very patient, but experienced hunter, peeking in almost any direction not obstructed by foliage or haze, bar the sudden extension of its tongue as it snapped a tiny nearby insect midflight.

“Uh… hello?" he bellowed to them, finally breaking his silence, but backing off in case of danger. The lizard-like being turned towards him, raised their weapon, but lowered it as it eyed Ikram in equal surprise.

“Greetings" he hissed in return when he darted his tongue towards him. “You smell like dragon, but look like one of my kin." The lizard-like being had a hissing pronunciation, but the language sounded similar, if not even familiar to that of the dragons. Perhaps there was a relation?

Ikram nodded: “This is true – my home is in the mountains, but I never knew about your kind. Is this mire your home?"

“Indeed it is." the lizard-like being spoke calm, turning slowly into a different direction: “Come, let me show you my tribe, the Raz'Athrin."

The Raz'Athrin seemed to see dragons as superior beings, revering them as nature spirits, but dragons rarely came into contact with them, yet all encounters were in peaceful meaning. Sometimes, they waged war with their human neighbors, but during peaceful times, they traded, benefitting mutually. The dragons tolerated their proximity as a last resort to fend off another Dragon-Human war, or so it seemed.

They looked vastly varying from each other, some representing crocodiles, some look like skinks, some would even pass for snakes if there weren't the arms and legs. Only a few even sprouted wings like Ikram, but would largely use them for gliding, like him.

Blending in due to his scaly look and thanks to the similarities in language, he took the opportunity to learn their culture and customs and made friends whenever he could. He even shared the hunting grounds with them and learned their hunting strategies which aided him well.

They built their tents and sites at dry, muddy ground, using twigs and well-cured skins for the walls. They hardly built for permanence it seemed, but it made sense to their roaming way of life.

They dined on virtually anything they could gather, catch or hunt. Crisped grasshoppers, for example, had a nut-like taste, but he wouldn't dine on these frequently, only in dire circumstances, knowing tastier animals to hunt.

Ikram still avoided human contact, carefully walking towards less remote places once he saw one scale-less two-legged one in the distance. He never understood why father saw these as a danger, but he didn't dare trying to find out, either.

On his hunting routines, he encountered his new friends frequently and they gladly assisted each other. Good thing though that they never hunted gryphons, a being too large to prey upon or he would have had to leave Dagur behind.

Learning the course of Nature

The 17th winter passed and Ikram mastered his claw-crafted weapon, though it was much of Jumendur's strong position to thank for that he survived until now and not his own weapon.

And Jumendur had a very watchful eye. Those even glancing malignant to him or Ikram were kept a keen eye on any possible transgression. They only dared to transgress with words, escaping punishment by second thought.

Jumendur knew Ikram was likely not very safe much longer, resistance against his illegitimate son grew - dragons mingling with humans weren't unheard of, due to the infrequent virgin sacrifice to lone males, but they had their own kin as company, not needing to satiate their lust amongst those that tried slaying them.

Ikram sometimes still felt frightened among the large quadruped kin, but he was part of Jumendur's family. He got rather better along with the gryphons, especially with Dagur, and his remote lizard-like friends, than with other dragons, save for Jumendur.

Now that Dagur was of age, he finally left Sedria's nest and began building his own roost. Ikram respected his friend's decision to depart, but wouldn't mind a visit to his friend's new nest.

Being of a more mature age, Jumendur permitted Ikram to explore the air and ground beyond the clan's hunting territories, though at his own caution and potential risk, for Jumendur had more important matters to tend to than to guard his son during his travels. This knowledge of remote regions, however, might become helpful later. He clearly enjoyed the sights his friend's wings were giving him when they travelled together and savored new sights.

When given the chance, he experimented with his own wings and managed to at least glide reliably from a high cliff down to the ground safely, but training didn't give him the skills of the larger kin. While this was not as useful as full flight, it at least brought joy in his heart to be brought up again only to glide down.

Now were the times where gryphons entered a mating frenzy for the following winter, and this was quite close this time in late summer and autumn; Perhaps this was why Dagur flew often and for prolonged times, inviting Ikram as a friend to share his sight, knowing he liked flying as much as he did.

Dagur flew unusually far away from the mountain, to regions Ikram saw only for the first time. He tried to remember them, as long as the dense clouds below them would allow them to, making a mind map to note where he was should he fall or come harm to Dagur.

This time Dagur appeared to peek at something of interest below the clouds and Ikram could easily observe his eyes narrowing down to tiny slits as he suddenly and swiftly changed his course downwards, bent on this course by deep rooting and commanding instinct.

An inviting and spicy scent was in the air and it forced Dagur's attention when that scent tickled his nostrils; Strong pheromones breaking the most hardened concentration a gryphon could focus on. Perhaps this was his chance for the first time as he became of age, thus he turned to hastily follow the scent which traced to the ground below, hoping no competing male picked it up.

Not knowing why his friend spontaneously and crazily shunned all caution, Ikram grabbed his fur as firm as possible. He could, of course, dismount mid-flight and glide down to safety, but didn't dare the risk of snapping his wings especially in such a violent airflow and so high above the clouds, higher than any cliff he jumped from to test his skill.

Finally, they reached the border of a nearby forest Ikram didn't recognize, yet Dagur's sudden restlessness didn't cease. Worried, Ikram jumped away from him and kept a clear distance, whilst observing him cautiously. If Dagur wasn't careful at all, at least he had to be for the safety of both, and he was lost, unable to tell in which direction home would be.

The scent was still intensive, even more so on the ground and Dagur wanted to focus on it, wanted to reach its source. Worry that he wasn't the first one to catch on that scent crept in more aggressively and he had to disregard his friend for now. Ikram would still be there, but this chance might be gone if he didn't act now.

It looked like Dagur was about to follow a certain trail on the ground, yet Ikram wasn't able to discern which and why. Ikram tentatively followed behind and couldn't then believe his very eyes: Dagur's nostrils caught a young gryphoness, most likely one in heat and that probably explained his friend's sudden frenzy. He knew that during autumn Gryphons meet, but only for the breeding. Rarely do gryphons mate for life.

And here it was, a ready female radiating a scent of breeding, the most prominent scent Dagur's instincts force him to follow. He had to make himself clear that he, and only he, would sire her hatchlings.

She had a light brown feather coloration, white at the tips with a spotted pattern along the spine, tracing between the wings. Her beak was of a pristine, pearly white and her eyes glow like amber illuminated by dragon fire.

Dagur cooed at her, towering up on his hind-legs and spreading his wings wide to get her attention. She glanced over at him and appraised each hair of fur, each separate feather of Dagur's form and the sheen of his eyes signifying not only strength, but splendor as well. Ikram hid inside a nearby bush, instincts hinting him that interrupting this incident might anger his friend unforgivingly.

He remained patient, he had to be sure the message got heard and that this female was indeed willing to mate. The young gryphon male stood still in that stance until the female he found turned her rear towards him, lowered her forepaws and raised her tail in an unambiguously inviting way.

She seemed to have understood him. He calmly stepped towards her, standing still when she moved, then continued to approach her. He licked, then bit at her tail to assert no misunderstanding. The gryphoness stayed put at his test, so Dagur lowered his head to lick between her hind-legs, searching for her swollen and wet slit.

And he found what he looked for, he lapped with his rough tongue before he pushed deeper to spread her, earning a calming and vibrant purr from her. Some strange thoughts struck Ikram as he observed what Dagur was about to do. Are they going to mate? Ikram asked himself and tentatively began, by instinct, searching with his claws between his own legs.

While Dagur was stimulating, and preparing the female gryphon, Ikram could see how Dagur's member gradually slipped and expanded. It was, by his estimates, as thick as his tail at least and was adorned with viciously looking barbs along the tip. Ikram narrowed his eyes at this sight, his instincts told it got to be painful or at least tickling for the female he would mount.

Joy as well as furious determination crept into his thoughts. And with a happy chirrup, he mounted that female, rubbing the length between her hind-legs to mark her outwards until he hit her slit. Once he found his aim, however, he mercilessly rammed deep and crooned, rubbing the barbs over the vulnerable nerves and veins within the folds to stimulate her further.

In the meantime, Ikram stroke one finger inside his own male-slit, then another and began rubbing, while thrumming, driven by curiosity. He soon felt his blood rush, concentrating between his legs when his own member began growing. He soon understood that this was one of many ways to initiate mating, though he had no female to take but at least a guide nearby to act for his imagination. Oh, how much he longed for a female of his own…

Dagur's frenzy would not so soon abate; he slightly regained clarity after he felt his sleek member enveloped by warmth, but only for the instincts ahead. He had to calm her down for what they would enjoy. Dagur took his time and began preening the neck feathers of the female. He wanted her to get used to this as he himself had to get used to. The female cooed in anticipation. Dagur affirmed the cooing with his own and then began to steadily thrust into her, each time harder, causing his barbs to rub deeper. He secured her by a careful bite into her neck, fixating her below him as his member began not only grow in length, but also in width, gaping her channel wide, forcing the thrusts to be accompanied with a wet sound.

Ikram couldn't cease watching. He, impudently, observed how his gryphon friend quickly and powerful inched in the massive pole. It looked like a painful sensation to him as he saw some of the barbs grabbing the outer lips. With each gradually stronger hump, however, Ikram could observe how the base of the large male-hood also began swelling.

Dagur purred as each time he rubbed his barbs over her unused channel, he felt a chill as her folds protested and tried to grab in between them. He knew that it was more than a twitch for the female, knowing that her body is preparing for the first clutch of eggs…

Ikram's member was fully erect from the fantasy of watching and he began carefully rubbing over and after he wrapped his palm around it, to thrust into his envelopment. He wished he had some warm and wet flesh for himself as well, but carefully experimented touching and stroking with his claw-tipped hands.

The sensation grew more intense as he stroked his barbs - dragons had these as well and so did he - alongside the tip which made him lubricate his hands by all the precum, making them stickier. He then shifted to a kneeling position, looking feverishly to the furious pair of gryphons nearby and quickened his rubbing and thrusting pace, following Dagur as his guide in rhythm.

Dagur hardly had any perception of his nearby surroundings, blinded by his impulses. He now only cared for himself and the female below him. Finally, he felt his base harden as well and tucked his beak firmly around the scruff of the female, pressing harder against her in an effort to nudge the base in.

The harshness on how hard his buddy mounted the female fueled Ikram's imagination ever more. He had difficulties keeping pace, trying to emulate his friend's acting. Beginning to pant, this exhausted his breath as much as it did his clarity.

Just a bit more force and it popped in, so intense and harsh that it caused the female to shriek in surprise, but he held her firm. It made him pant louder as he thrusted with more strength to settle the tie as deep as possible. Now tied inside, he cuddled around her body and felt his seed rushing deep. He had now sired his first nest and if he kept at it, it wouldn't likely be the only.

Ikram was able to see this narrow and bulging tying and it made him gasp in awe and envy, quickening his own pace, knowing his friend was almost finished. He was mildly jealous that his friend found a mate, even a temporary one, and Ikram himself still had to wait for his opportunity, if it ever was meant to occur for him.

Dagur purred as his shaft became gripped tightly for his life-giving essence. Each time he assumed the ride was over and tried to tug at the union he was proven wrong with a reactive swell that made his spear lodged in securely and ever more firmly.

Feeling his own base swell as well, Ikram felt his heart quickening and beating stronger; he rubbed firmer and faster to compensate until he as well was provoked to orgasm. He experimented with gripping his shaft more forceful and earned a hardened response from his member, trying to keep itself locked inside his palms.

Ikram saw black clouds full of wet rain approaching, so his and Dagur's traces will at least get washed away – who knows what dwelled in this faraway lands... Fortunately, these clouds do not seem to carry lightning as well.

Dagur braved the approaching wet storm and enveloped his mate by spreading his wings while he was still tied and he enjoyed the narrow inner envelope. He subconsciously noticed his friend nearby, but the instincts tended more to breeding than to him and so he tolerated his proximity, knowing he was not a threat.

Ikram couldn't wait for the cooling storm either, yet also knowing he would have to find a way to dry his clothes as soon as the rain stopped, but the natural shower would clean him and spare him another long travel to the next lake for a bath.

The female however, perceiving Ikram, became nervous as she eyed him, but she had no chance to escape now and was forced to tolerate his presence for the time being. The shifting winds, now carrying Ikram's scent more prominently, made that female unrulier, but Dagur's tie still kept her in check. Indeed, it was a wild exemplar, only a few similar to these Ikram saw within the clans.

He carefully approached them, trying to study the union by curiosity, soon instinctively knowing how not only gryphons, but almost all form of life mated. Thirst for knowledge demanded him to even touch or taste but he backed away. Especially the wild ones were unpredictable and Dagur, so Ikram thought, might not be able to protect him from harm.

The rain became more intense, fog made seeing far harder. Dagur shook his wings, diverting the water to his back where he had difficulties reaching feather and fur with his beak. At the same time, he crooned and licked her neck, shifting stance slightly to not let his legs fall asleep.

Having learned much about gryphon handling from Jumendur and from live experience, Ikram knew that this pair was going to meet and mate more often and again as long as the heat was ongoing. This ensured both small and very large nests, but judging by the distance, he doubted Dagur would have a second chance.

The tie loosened right after the rain abated and Dagur dismounted the female, purring happily and cleaning her. The female responded in kind after calming down to the presence of the strange two-legged dragon and took off, probably seeking a good spot for a nest to build. Dagur then looked to his friend and lowered himself, allowing him to ride on him again after the deed was done and the rain cleared.

Confused about how quick Dagur could calm down after such an exciting act, he climbed atop with care first, then shrugged and they returned home as the sun was about to set again soon. This display however became a scar on his innocence, now his deep desire to mate was awakened. He knew none of the females would offer their season to him and he wouldn't dare offering himself to a gryphoness.

A special decision

Ikram slept uneasy, the thought of what the gryphon did while he observed emerged every time he tried shutting his eyes. Noting the position of the moon outside the cave entrance of his and father's cave once he gave up trying to sleep again, he stood up, at the middle of the night.

Because resting again was futile, he walked outside, with only the moon to observe him. He tentatively walked down the stairs that were riddled with claw marks, they were even punctured for the brave hatchling to climb them, which in turn helped Ikram as well. The steps were made for grown dragons and were rather steep for him so he took his time climbing each stair down carefully.

He knew where Dagur built his own dwelling, once he was brought to that spot for surveying. He carefully judged the height of the nest from afar. Knowing he had no choice, or even the slightest chance to anyone else, he intended to offer himself to Dagur, his only true friend that, besides his father, cared much for him.

He was however not sure on how to make it comprehensible for Dagur. The way alone was tiring, but after another hour he stood before the cliff he knew his friend had built the nest atop. The height of that cliff alone was awe-inspiring.

Ikram studied the wall for climbing and seeing it alone felt like a strenuous act. While his friend certainly knew that Ikram lacked functioning wings, he probably didn't have that in mind while building the roost. He sighed - waiting for Dagur to notice him would probably take longer than trying to climb atop.

The Raz'Athrin taught him how to climb large walls, they used heights to plan ahead the route of hunting from above; he tactually searched for any possible grip with his claws and got up the first feet. The sun was still hours away, but the darkness didn't deprive Ikram of his vision, so there was no need to wait for sight either. As he got up the next few feet, he probed more carefully and tentatively loosened his wings in case he would fall, so he could glide downwards. Each step made his heart race more - the instinctual fear of falling, another barrier against flight he inherited from his human side, crept slowly in the more he looked below…

The climbing continued for painfully long stretched minutes, perhaps a full hour, he couldn't tell, but as Ikram's claws grabbed air, then the top of the ridgeline, he knew he made it and pulled himself up. Heaving himself up the edge, he panted slowly and deep, sighed smoothly when he saw his furry and feathery friend asleep, but he didn't expect him to be alone. The feeling of fatigue was swayed away easily when he saw Dagur.

He had hoped his female mate would be with him, but that was likely, wild gryphons tend to avoid the dragons, other than those desperate enough to nest at the mountain for lack of a better place, perhaps Sedria left her mate for a similar reason. Besides, the distance they travelled yesterday made it unlikely for her to follow him. On the bright side, though, it ought to ease his approach.

Ikram untied his clothes hastily, seeing no shame or guilt in doing so as dragons usually weren't hiding their scales. Clothing would rather hinder him than help him now anyway, so he moved the garbs underneath a nearby bush as soon as he got himself out of it, making a mental note of that bush to find them again later.

He still had no idea on how he could invite Dagur to mate with him…

Dagur leaned sideways, so Ikram crept carefully towards him, trying to avoid wakening him. He wanted to make this a surprise, so he cautiously and slowly turned towards Dagur's far stretched hind-legs. He would not need to peek for long: The proudness most females covet, while his fur and feathers were of a bright white, was tinted slightly gray, as if it was marked for those searching. He eyed Dagur's legs more with care though, seeking a way around them because moving these would probably have awakened him.

As he got into reach with his claws, he looked calmly and cautiously over his friend's body. Dagur still slept, perhaps dreamt, deep, although he purred to his touch and the wet barbed tip slipped out. Either Dagur was faking sleep or he was indeed in a very wet dream. Ikram assumed the latter, slyly grinning at making his dream a reality, maybe.

Either way, Ikram took the opportunity and carefully stroke over the barbs. They felt extremely tickling, even to his scale-plated claws. Now he knew why females were unable to resist these. The touch itself caused a blood-rushing shiver. He continued to rub over them, provoking more of the gryphon-hood outside, not happy with just the barbs.

Ikram froze in surprise as he noticed Dagur opening his eyes. The gryphon blinked unaware of his situation and licked his beak, still drunk by lust, then nudged him under his tail to continue while he roused. Ikram could only fathom how big the shaft was going to be as it steadily grew an arm's length already. He definitely wouldn't be able to take it all with his mouth, but wondered if a dragon his age could do the same.

He barely engulfed the delicate needles, but when he did, he got a surprised and delightful chirp in return. Ikram teased and tested him, using his tongue to try them and his thick hands to rub around the exposed shaft while licking at, between and around the thorny crown.

Dagur grew more and more impatient while he was getting teased. He sniffed underneath Ikram's tail, knowing that he was not female, but he cautiously preened his scales that bend easily to his ministrations.

He remembered sightings of male dragons mounting other males and was wondering whether this was what Ikram wanted from him. He tentatively shifted and tried resisting bucking as he didn't want Ikram to choke on his member, but patience didn't last long with the urge to put Ikram on all fours. Dagur would rather have a female between his legs than a male, but he won't deny such a desire to his close friend and his own curiosity became ignited and the frustration of the female leaving so early still weighed heavy on his heart, so better a male than nobody.

This sudden reaction surprised Ikram, but he obliged and rolled to his fours. Dagur bit on his tail which made Ikram shiver for a moment, but he knew this was a test of willingness. Instead, he raised the tail, giving Dagur a good view over his clean rear.

Dagur didn't wait long and moved over Ikram, aligning his thick throbbing and barbed member with his tail-hole. The brushing itself felt a bit painful for the little half-dragon. Yet the gryphon took his time, carefully and slowly prodding the sphincter open by slight bumping, using the needles to stimulate him.

Ikram winced when Dagur scrubbed the hedgehog-like needles over the sensitive ring. Dagur noticed he might have hurt his friend and held still, waiting for Ikram's instinctual resistance to cease before he inched deeper.

Finally, the tip sunk in after a long series of attempts in scraping and tickling carefully. Ikram tentatively tried to ignore the initial inconvenience as best as he could, relaxing before he aided Dagur in nudging in the shaft as well. Once inside, though, it felt easier, yet no less prickling.

After a few more thrusts, Ikram could feel the pressure more prominently and he felt Dagur's base being brushed against his tail. Dagur chirped and crooned, licking over his friend's neck before carefully tucking back in order to push deep inside again, initiating the mating rhythm.

Each and every hump shook him deep to the bones, adding to the sensation in the inability to retract the muscles tighter. The first minutes were the most difficult, in which Ikram had to get used to being rut. Dagur however continued after slightly adjusting his stance.

Instincts commanded Dagur to become more dominant, leaving hardly any time for Ikram to breathe in between. Just then Dagur found an extremely sensitive point to 'torture' Ikram, causing him to growl in pleasure and arousing him to the point of forcing his member out and wet. Ikram thought that this must be the prostate, he feverishly bucked back against Dagur, enticing him to keep this pace while clamping his claw around his own growing length.

The half-dragon, despite the haziness, balanced his stance by expanding his wings while rubbing and massaging his own member in about as equal intensity and frequency as Dagur would mount him. A warming and expanding wet feeling just behind his sphincter, though, warned him that Dagur didn't plug in wholly and appeared in the intention to rectify this soon, pushing even harder to force it in.

Ikram, squeezed his eyes shut overcoming the painful pressure and finally the knot slipped in. He still hoped that he wouldn't be split in half while Dagur still tried to shove in even deeper.

Sealed to Dagur and soon marked by him, he felt a warm, creamy feeling fill under his tail, under ever increasing density, but held inside by the massive distending barrier. It didn't take long for Ikram to come as well, marking the ground.

He would be Dagur's mate if he was unable to find his own. Now tied, they laid sideways, enabling Ikram to see how well he was bound to the gryphon. Even if this looked embarrassing, he wouldn't mind if he was caught red-handedly on doing that. He rather felt like helping out a friend with unstoppable urges.

* * *

Ikram woke to a feathery and warm envelopment when the sun rose in a bright apricot, albeit resting comparatively short at most. At first he wondered how he got there in the first place, but then he recalled as soon as he noticed how close he snuggled to Dagur. He looked around and had a great view over the entire region. Now he knew why his gryphon friend has chosen this place. Nobody would be able to surprise Dagur either above or below.

Dagur still slept and nothing indicated of their wild night. Perhaps he wasn't caught, was he? He noticed dragons flying, walking and stretching their wings below the pillar-like spire. Most of them were asleep while they did it and it was not unusual for a dragon even to share scales and fur just for warmth.

Slowly he turned around and perceived green scales, turning towards him, then the yellow eyes. Shuvir looked at both of them, but stayed silent for the moment. Ikram blinked, not looking to claim initiative and explain why he chose to stay with Dagur instead of his father.

Noticing his silence, Shuvir grinned toothily: "Your... closeness to Dagur is quite unexpected, even among dragons, but, well, you have neither sibling nor member of your own kin." Ikram's cheeks turned pink at Shuvir's words, almost betraying his desire to keep this closeness secret.

Shuvir showed his teeth as he continued: "No worries, little one, your secret is yours only. Nobody, not even Jumendur has, for that matter, need to know. Nevertheless, I have to report to your father that you are safe. And that is all he wants to know." He then spread his wings and jumped, flying towards the leader's cavern.

When Dagur finally woke, he narrowed his eyes in surprise when he saw Ikram, but after he shook tiredness away, remembering the very recent night, he calmed down. They still saw Shuvir in the distance, knowing that they had a third party among their keepers of that secret.

However, Ikram hugged his friend cheerfully. They might sooner or later need each other to survive. Ikram as his mate, Dagur as Ikram's wings. And Ikram knew the day of leaving was most likely only a season away.

Dagur lowered himself and Ikram took seat again, this time they chose flying as far as possible by dawn, scouting for potential remote lands to dwell in, in the future, hunting while the sun is at its highest and only return by dusk.