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The dining room had been cleared of servants and the remains of an otherwise pleasant meal sat cold, all the attendants around the table either uncomfortable or angry. Savannah sat with perfect posture, one hand folded over the other on her lap as she'd been taught, her hair done up and her dress immaculate as always. But the look in her eyes was of pure hostility.

Unfortunately, she had inherited her stubbornness from her father, and he had the ultimate authority so there was no amount of protesting that could change his mind.

"Alvin, Louis, leave us. Now." His voice was snappish and laced with poison. What was about to happen between the king and his daughter was to be private.

Both of them watched Savannah's older siblings leave the room, and when the door clicked shut, Hector spoke again.

"I cannot believe your audacity," he said flatly, gritting his teeth. "Or the sheer amount of self-entitlement!"

"You are not shipping me off to marry some duke out west." Her voice was cold and absolute--though Savannah had less say in the matter than she believed.

The king sat back in his chair and looked around the room. It had ten-foot-tall oak doors, windows trimmed with gold, floors of polished marble, and cutlery worth more than most peasants could make in their lifetime. It was decadence to the extreme, at the expense of many.

"You grew up in this castle," he said softly. "You grew up with more comfort and security than nearly everyone else in the whole god damned world. There are children who starve to death because their fathers can't feed them when their crops flood, women who are trapped in marriage with abusive alcoholics. There are a million horrors in this world and you have seen none of them!"

He stood up so suddenly it knocked his heavy chair back into the wall ten feet behind him. "You have one responsibility!" he roared. "The only thing you need to do is marry that man and have his children!" His face was red, and his eyes were wild. "There are peasant women who would flay you alive for this opportunity," he hissed, "and you have the nerve to tell me you won't do it because you simply don't want to."

When she sat silently in his chair, not looking at him he kept speaking, his tone quiet but menacing. "You are going to marry that prince," he said, putting emphasis on the word, "and you will work within that court to help form a powerful diplomatic relationship. And someday, they will let us move our troops through that mountain pass so we can take back that damn coastal city."

He let the statement hang in the air for a moment then took on a softer tone. "We need Johgarak back Savannah, we need to spread the money from that city around the countryside otherwise all this," he said, with a gesture to everything around him, "will collapse. You know that! We can't keep taxing the barons, our power comes from them! If we keep this up they'll just overthrow us!"

She finally looked up and made eye contact with her father. There was still steel in her gaze, but it was pained. "It's not that I won't," she said softly, "it's that I can't."

Confusion flitted through the king's eyes and he took a step back. "You trained for this all your life," he said quickly, "as a little girl, you were so enthusiastic to play your part someday... it's what we raised you to do. The tutors, the practice, the... everything."

Rather than say anything, Savannah simply stood, rising up to a height that rivaled her father, who was not a short man.

"It took me three weeks ago," she whispered.

Understanding immediately filled his eyes, and it was quickly followed by pain.

"Where?" he whispered.

Savannah pulled up the long dress that covered her leg, revealing a pair of leggings underneath. When she pulled down the one on her right legs, her thigh was completely covered in shiny red scales.

"I have a clock wake me every hour," she said quietly, "it spreads when I sleep for too long, and even still..."

The king heaved a heavy sigh and leaned against the table, trying to keep himself from collapsing from the shock. "This is bad," he said quietly. "You should have told me, I could have got help! I could have-"

He trailed off and just shook his head. They both knew it was hopeless. They didn't understand The Pocillish Curse, nobody did. Nobody knew why it struck anyone, or how to protect oneself from it--it just happened. And once it claimed you, there was no coming back.

"You've been holding it back?" he whispered.

Savannah nodded. "I can keep it from happening now, but I can't forever. Every day it gets harder, and even a little slip up..." She pulled the legging down further to show that the scales extended all the way from her hip to her knee.

They stood there in silence for over a minute, the princess watching her father carefully, and the king deep in thought. She could see it in him, a torrent of emotions he rarely let show. He was wrestling them for control, trying to put the stoic and harsh man back in charge in the face of the loss of his daughter.

"Let it happen," he finally said.

Savannah's look was one of shock. That had been simpler than she expected.

"Well then what happens?" she demanded. "King Hector Sullivan, fifth of his line, has a daughter publicly taken by The Pocillish Curse? You literally just said the kingdom was on the edge of doom, but that..." she shook her head and laughed with mirth. "Word of that wouldn't doom the kingdom, it would be a public execution!"

Her father's eyes had adapted that cold, calculating look he took on when he was condemning people to die. The look he had when he smothered his soul to preserve his sanity.

"Five minutes from now," he said quietly, "a dragon is going to burst through those windows. Some peasant--some unnamed madman taken by The Pocillish Curse will snatch you from the castle right under my nose. He will light this room ablaze, and I will barely escape with my life, but we will both survive with our dignity."

Savannah looked down at the red scales on her leg and understood, tears starting to well in her eyes.

"The king will mourn," he said, his voice nearly breaking, "and the royalty will suffer for it. But at least the others will look upon us with pity, not contempt."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I really did want to go west. I really did."

Her father grabbed her in a firm embrace, hugging her for the first time in years, and fighting to keep the tears away himself.

"Come back in a year," he whispered, letting the façade slip for a moment. "Exactly a year from today. I'll be at the top of the spire at night. Hopefully I'll have something worked out."

She gave a pained nod, face half buried in his shoulder. "I will," she whispered, then broke off the embrace and composed herself.

Then, she released it.

In a horrifying way, it felt so incredibly satisfying.

It was like finally reaching the bathroom when in need--it was a pressure released from the body, allowed to change into what it thought it should be, no matter how unnatural. Savannah was horrified at how relieved she was to finally let it take hold.

The scales shot over her body faster than she ever thought possible. In seconds her entire body was covered in them--glossy, blood red scales. Some were thick like on her sides and back, others were flexible yet sturdy like those on her arms, the scales on her belly were wide and paler in color, and those on her hands and face were pebbly and fine, resistant to simple scratching but soft like skin. To her surprise her fingers stayed intact, not morphing into claws, though her fingernails did turn jet black like they were painted.

After the two or so seconds it took for scales to cover her body, the more serious changes began. Her dress--so beautiful and masterfully sewn--was destroyed as wings forced themselves from her back. Savannah had hardly reacted to the scales enveloping her body when two powerful limbs started stretching out and tearing the seams and fabric alike. Desperately trying to undo the lace in time, it split down the back and dropped to her feet, leaving her holding the front covering her chest. While she was half hunched over, partly out of shock and partly out of shame, the wings finished growing explosively. The cracks and pops that sounded through the air was akin to bone breaking, her shoulder blades reforming to accommodate the new limbs sprouting out behind her.

Not even twenty seconds had passed since she had allowed it to take her, and already two massive draconian wings flared out behind her. On the far side of the room, her father was watching in frozen horror, but all she could do was try and make sense of the feelings her two new limbs were sending to her brain.

She let the remains of the dress fall to the ground, her shame the last thing on her mind at the moment, and tried to control the wings on her back. Spreading them out was something like spreading the fingers on her hand--though on a much larger scale--and folding them was the opposite, clenching and pulling them in. Savannah folded and unfolded her wings a couple times, not even realizing her hair had gone bleach white and her eyes were now a bright gold.

She did feel her tail coming in however, and ignored it pressing out behind her while she tried to figure out her wings. She was going to need to fly immediately. Stretched out and ready, she beat the air with them once carefully--and knocked herself back onto her ass. The king--in shock at the other side of the room--actually laughed. It had been so unexpected and sudden it was comical, in a slapstick kind of way. Savannah could feel herself blushing and the heat radiating off of her, but quickly clambered to her feet and felt the tail complete its growth. She flicked it a couple times and it was incredibly easy to control, and used it to fling the remains of her dress away from her feet. Unlike her wings, the limb felt natural.

And that seemed to be it. Draconic wings, an obnoxiously thick tail, and went she ran her hands over her head, what felt to be six small horns protruding from her hair. With the changes stopped, she made eye contact with her father, who just looked sad.

"Set the room on fire," he said quietly. "It'll make it more believable."

Savannah hesitated for a moment then found her flame. To breath out fire could only be described as the difference between breathing and talking. It was different, but it was hard to pinpoint exactly what one had to do differently. It certainly couldn't be described.

A small lick of flame leapt from her mouth, then she nodded to her father, who bowed his head back.

She beat her wings once, then twice, and managed to lift her feet off the floor in a relatively controlled manner.

Then, she set the room ablaze.

***

Randall stirred from his sleep, the warmth from the fire jerking him to consciousness. His hand was immediately on his sword, and visor down in an instant. Yet nobody was there.

And that bothered him. He, who would wake at the sound of a cat entering the room in the dead of night, hadn't heard someone light the campfire he'd put out the night before, and stock it with wood. He found that deeply troubling. Had it been magic? Or was he simply not as good as he thought?

Either way, something was playing with him.

The young man, hardly past twenty, swore quietly under his helmet and searched the cliffs for something--for anything. He had half a mind to turn back right then and there, clearly something could have killed him in his sleep. But it hadn't.

He sighed and put his visor back up, relaxing his posture and searching the cliffs once again with a full field of view. Nothing. For all the rumors and myths surrounding the mountain pass, it seemed awfully dead. He hadn't seen a thing the entire time he trudged through it.

"Well? What is it?" He held his arms out to his side in an exasperated expression as he shouted. Perhaps it just wanted to talk, though rumor hadn't led him to believe that was an option.

Thundering hooves far off to his left grabbed his attention. His gaze snapped towards the sound and spotted a centaur--or a tauric being charging him. In the moments he had, he sized it up.

The being was large, probably ten to twelve feet tall, its body the size of a warhorse and the humanoid portion that of a giant. It was armed with what seemed to be a massive club, though odds are it was just a giant tree branch.

Randall got the distinct feeling this hadn't been what had lit the campfire on him.

With nowhere to run, he snapped the visor on his helmet down and drew his sword. There was no point in bothering with his shield, if he took a blow from that club it would probably just break his arm and leave him equally helpless. No, he had to avoid getting hit at all costs.

Positioning himself right beside the rocky wall so it couldn't attack him with a side swing, he let it charge him. He was really, really hoping it took an overhead swing at him, that would make things incredibly easy. But it didn't. With the wall to his left and the beast wielding the club on its right, it instead launched an underhand swing as it charged.

Unfortunately for the beast, a childhood of torment hadn't broken him down--it had made him determined, strong, and disciplined. A drive for revenge had made Randall--the smallest of the kids, the bullied--among the best knights in the region.

The moment the underhand swing started, Randall jumped. His left arm and leg caught a rock lip each and he was able to get about five feet of air--impressive in his heavy armor. As the swing was about to clip his legs, he kicked off the wall to the side and dodged the centaur's attack, landing a deep cut with his sword at the same time.

To call it a centaur was a bit disingenuous, because it's humanoid half wasn't really that human. Ram-like horns curled from its head and a chitinous plating covered its upper body, something that would normally give it armor against glancing blows from claws and protect it from teeth.

But that didn't extend to honed steel.

The sword opened up its midsection and cut through its arm to the bone, drawing forth a blood curdling scream of pain as it stumbled past him and dropped its club. Like the dumb beast it was, it stopped running at the injury, stumbling and cantering to a stop to possibly inspect its wounds. That was perfect for Randall. He was up behind it in an instant, delivering a powerful two-handed blow with his sword, aimed directly at one of its back knees and completely severing the limb at the joint.

The beast, unprepared for such grievous injuries, howled in agony and collapsed. Randall had its head off as it hit the ground.

Standing over his assailant panting, he snapped up his visor and search the area around him frantically in case there was another. The fight hadn't even been demanding for him physically, it lasted less than ten seconds, but his heartbeat roared in his ears and adrenaline set his muscles ablaze. Fortunately, there wasn't anything else, and he was hardly fifty feet from his little camp, tucked away in a small overhang.

Randall waited there for a few minutes, carefully listening if there were any others coming. It might have been better to flee the scene immediately, but the path he was currently on had steep rock walls on both sides, so he only had one way to go. He'd rather wait and hear the foe approaching from a ways off and attack it fresh, rather than waste energy in his full plate mail while running. Eventually thinking he was safe, he stepped out from his little overhang back onto the path and found his fire starter inspecting the dead centaur-beast.

"That was quite impressive," she said, hardly sparing him a second glance, instead focusing on the corpse in front of her.

Randall took a deep breath in and placed his hand on his sword, but didn't draw it. It was always better to talk than fight, and this... thing seemed to want to do that. For now.

Like the beast he'd just slain, she was obviously a victim of The Pocillish Curse herself, though she hadn't gone savage like many others had. In fact, he started putting two and two together really quickly, and took his hand off the sword entirely.

Simply put, she looked like a cross between a woman and a dragon; a dragon that fit the description that kidnapped King Sullivan's daughter, Princess Savannah. Randall immediately doubted that story. Savannah--if that's indeed who it was--was still humanoid in body structure, and if it weren't for the wings and tail, her silhouette could probably pass for human in the dark. However, blood red scales covered her body from head to toe and her hair was snow white, punctuated by a series of three-inch horns.

She stood as tall as him and had a tail, probably about four feet long and lined with spikes like the dragons from myth, and the wings half folded on her back probably had a span of fourteen or fifteen feet. Yet despite her bestial appearance and complete lack of clothing, she looked civilized. Perhaps it's in how she carried herself, Randall thought as he approached, lifting his visor and holding his hands up in an act of truce.

"I've had practice," he said conversationally, but with suspicion in his voice. "But I suppose you know why I'm here."

"You're here to avenge the princess?" she asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe rescue her, perhaps slay the dragon or some nonsense?" She looked at the dead monster again then back to him. "Though after that little show, the task certainly appears plausible in your hands."

He looked at her with a flat glare. "Well I guess you let anyone who comes looking for you get stamped to a pulp by this guy." Randall made a gesture to the corpse between them.

She raised an eyebrow and leaned against the rock face. "Very astute. I guess it's obvious why I don't let men see me normally. Especially up close like this."

That all but confirmed his gut feeling. He was standing face to face with the king's daughter. Suddenly he was unsure what to do, so he continued lipping off.

"Better to pretend you died than be taken by the curse publicly, is it?"

Annoyance and sadness flashed in her eyes. "Think about it," she hissed. "How would your average dumb farmer react if the king's own daughter was taken by the devil himself. Not to mention the church, or the barons who squabble for control. We'd be done!"

She just shook her head. "If I stayed, no matter how we tried to spin it, someone would have killed us for it. If it wasn't a knife in the dark or a public uprising, the Hal or the Ulari simply would have invaded and the peasants would have sided with them." The former princess sighed. "At least this way both my family and I survive."

When he didn't say anything, she looked to him and her eyes hardened, slitted pupils narrowing in her bright gold irises. "Well, that puts an end to your little adventure, doesn't it? What do you intend to do about it?"

He hesitated, if only for a moment. "Not tell anyone, if that's what you're asking."

Savannah visibly relaxed, then looked down as if slightly ashamed. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I just watch everyone who tries to make it up the pass, I want to tell them to turn back but I can't..." She made eye contact again. "Your whole way up the mountain, what you did was really impressive. That's why I stoked your fire last night... thought you might like to wake up warm..." she trailed off, unsure about what she just said.

And in that statement Randall saw the conflict--the determination to do well for her family--and perhaps the kingdom--by remaining in hiding, and the crushing loneliness that bore down upon her as she lived alone in the mountains. In a split second, he made his decision and pulled off his helm, revealing his rather average, if slightly asymmetrical face. There were multiple opportunities here, and oddly enough, there was still a damsel in distress. Just not in the way he imagined.

"It took me five days to make it through the pass to this point," he said, feigning fatigue. The truth was he was still roaring with energy from the fight, but he knew the exhaustion would come later. "Do you have a cave, a home or something that I can rest in? I really don't want to turn right around and fight again for another couple days." The question was innocent enough, and if Savannah saw his opportunistic side through it, she didn't care.

Instead rather, the former princess suddenly looked delighted.

"Not at all!" She looked ecstatic then slightly guilty. "I could always use the company," she added. "It get's pretty lonely up here."

It took Randall a better part of the day to make it to where Savannah lived. She had a cave of sorts--though it was more of an overhang--where she had nothing more than a fireplace and a makeshift bed, mostly made of grass and leaves. Just enough so she wasn't sleeping on rock.

At some point while he trudged up the mountain, she had caught a small goat and cut it up with some knives she'd scavenged, and had certain cuts cooking on a rotisserie when he finally made it there. Yet even while doing this, she spent the majority of the day walking with him up the mountain, only taking off for a few minutes at a time.

It almost struck him as weird--she kept asking questions about him, his life, and talking about her own, making a distinct effort to get to know who he was. Towards the end of the day he finally realized why: It wasn't her personality, it was simply the fact that she hadn't had anyone to talk to in the better part of a year.

The sun was on the horizon again when Randall finally reached the camp, and he had a few wineskins in his pack which he shared with her. They were both quite buzzed before the night was over.

She sat down right next to him, her hands propped behind her to keep herself upright, and her wings wide. Randall hadn't really considered her wings until she nudged closer to him and wrapped a wing around his shoulder and enveloped his back. If that wasn't affection, he didn't know what was, and leaned into her as she was onto him.

That was all the sign Savannah needed. Her uncertainty if he found her draconic form attractive was gone, so she used the wing and pulled him in close, then basically tumbled on top of him and he lost his support and fell into a laying position. Now laying on top of him with her wing underneath, she definitely felt the bulge in his pants. Savannah grinned, and he returned it.

"Busted," was all he said, hands on her hips.

Savannah grabbed him lightly by the arms and lifted him slightly so she could get her wing out from under him, then flared them both out and sat atop his hips, giving them a gentle beat to stir up a breeze around the two of them.

"Sorry I don't have a proper bed," she said, slowly undoing the buttons on his shirt one by one. "But I don't normally get visitors."

His grin only widened and her last doubts left her. He definitely didn't mind her advances. "Well perhaps you should get one for special occasions." He capped the statement off with a wink, which was both incredibly cheesy and oddly endearing. Savannah couldn't resist.

"I hope you don't find this too strange," she said, leaning down to kiss him.

He offered no resistance, though was obviously surprised when her tongue slipped into his mouth. Unlike him, she had her eyes open for the process, and saw the briefest looks of shock before intrigue and slyness overtook it. A moment later he was half kissing her, half sucking on her tongue which trailed deep into his mouth, and giving her a full taste of him. Like their whole encounter to this point, it was oddly awkward and simultaneously erotic. She closed her eyes as well and went with it, grinding her hips against his.

He bucked her gently and his hands found her waist, playing with the membrane where her wings met the small of her back. Savannah in return while they kissed, put her tail to use, and gently pressed it into his groin while she ground her hips over his. Eventually she pulled her mouth away from his, letting him suck on her tongue for a moment until it was finally drawn from his mouth.

At this point she was so turned on, she'd had enough of the preamble. When she went to unbutton his pants, Randall instead grabbed her hips lightly and tugged her up to his chest, trying to spin her as well.

"Turn around!" he urged.

When she did and went back to unbuttoning his trousers, he lightly grabbed her hips again and pulled them towards his face. That's when she finally realized what he was doing--he still seemed to want some foreplay even if she was rearing to go. With no complaints, Savannah planted her knees on either side of his head and spread her legs a bit, giving him full access to the goods, and jerked down his pants at the same time.

As a princess, her sex life had unfortunately been very tightly controlled, and she'd never actually done this before. Still, she liked to think the dick that sprang out at her from his underwear was of decent size. Or they really did grow a lot more than she thought. She found it hard to tell.

At the same time she felt his fingers poking gently between her legs, then he jumped a bit, almost involuntarily. Savannah hesitated.

"Are you okay?" She looked back over her shoulder and saw him looking at his finger.

"You're really hot," he said, realizing the slang a moment too late. "Literally," Randall added, frowning at his fingers. "I basically burnt myself when I touched you there..."

He looked profoundly disappointed, as much as she felt. Then he quickly tapped her clit with two fingers like one would I they were checking if a pot was hot. In her current state even the briefest touch was pleasing to her. He did so a couple times, holding his fingers there an instant longer each time until he recoiled again and gave an exasperated laugh.

"This is ridiculous!" he said, shaking his head. "This is actually stupid!"

Feeling kind of bad touching her was literally burning him, Savannah spun around and adopted the position she'd been in before and leaned over to kiss him again. "It's fine," she breathed, "we can still keep at it this way."

Already having forgotten she'd taken his dick out of his pants, her crotch rubbed over the full length of his penis as she leaned over, making him jump and yelp.

"Sorry!" she cried and rolled off of him as he sat up to inspect the damage.

"It's fine," he groaned, "it's worse for you in the long run than me anyways."

Randall frowned as he looked at his penis, which was red from being burned--at least that's what he thought initially at least.

"Savannah," he said, and licked his lips nervously. "I think there's scales on my dick now."

She banished any dirty thoughts from her mind for a moment and went for a closer look. Sure enough, the skin where she had brushed him was pebbled slightly like the scales on her face.

"That's...what?" Savannah sat back up, suddenly concerned for him. She wanted companionship, but if she'd known her predicament was contagious, she never would have even approached him.

"I'm so sorry," she breathed, "I didn't know, otherwise I-"

He cut her off with a hand on the small of her back, then wrapping his fingers around her tail, pulling on it.

"Get that thing back over here." He had a grin on his face, and when she gave him a perplexed look, he just shrugged from his half sitting position. "Damage is done," was all he said.

Then he pulled on her tail with surprising force, guiding her ass towards his face as he laid back down. Savannah was all too happy to oblige and wiggled back into the position she'd been in before the interruption.

"I drink my coffee too hot anyways."

His tongue pressed against her clit sending a small wave of pleasure over her as he licked from front to back. She half expected him to stop after the first lick, but he continued a second and third time, slow and sensual, ignoring the pain from the heat. Savannah trembled a bit on the third pass and felt the urge to make it worth it for him, even if only so he wouldn't stop.

Apparently her mouth wasn't as hot as her crotch, so as she leaned over him she flicked her tongue out in its full length. It snaked out nearly a foot, the tip splitting into forks about three inches long and capable of entirely independent movement. Each fork wrapped around the head of his penis in the opposite direction and she placed her hands on his legs, using her tongue alone to draw the cock to her mouth. Savannah suckled on the tip gently, sliding her tongue out of her mouth and around the shaft in a slow slithering motion until the entire thing was enveloped in her tongue.

He bucked his hips a bit, almost involuntarily and forced it a hint more into her mouth--something she was all too happy to receive. In an instant she took the full thing in, the tip pressing against the back of her throat and threatening to slide down it as she sucked on it. Randall reciprocated, licking her a few more times and sucking on her clit, flicking it with her tongue and his nose pressing up into her, probably getting burnt and scaled as well.

But that didn't stop him. He licked and sucked on her clit some more, triggering the first of her many orgasms and making her take a sharp breath in through her nose. When Randall started licking her again she moaned, pressing her ass into him, wanting him to go deeper.

The knight obliged. When he pressed his tongue into her, it went further than it had the time before, and Savannah distinctly felt it. He was obviously surprised as well, pausing for a moment with it inside her, but then pressed on. He flicked it in and out of his mouth, pressing his tongue a little further in each time and lapping her up. It wasn't long before she felt it brush her cervix--not one tip but two. He didn't press any further, instead opting to explore her with this new organ of his, the tongue still growing in length to match her own.

It wasn't long before he found her g-spot and ran his tongue over it furiously, sucking on her clit at the same time. Savanah shuddered again. It felt wonderful.

After the orgasm passed she realized she been neglecting him and continued to suck and lick him as well, putting her heart into it even though she felt clumsy and unsure of what she was doing. She felt his cock flex and tremble a couple times like he was about to cum, but he never did--or was able to prevent himself from doing so. Eventually, he pressed up and lifted her ass off his face, his now draconian tongue still trailing up inside her, twitching and getting its last licks in before it was pulled out.

She suckled him a few more times then stopped as well, turning back around and positioning her hips over his. He was obviously willing to brave the firestorm.

"Are you sure?" she asked, feeling guilty about what he was going to feel.

He nodded vigorously. "It only hurts for a moment, and..." he shrugged. "It already took hold, so there's no point in stopping." Hardly giving her any warning, he slid his cock up against her and pushed it in, twitching for a moment then visibly relaxing.

Savannah sat still atop him for a moment, feeling more guilt than pleasure. "You're okay?"

He waited another moment and she felt the cock twitching inside her. Transforming.

Randall nodded. "I am now, and it feels like it's..."

"...growing," she finished for him, running her hands over his chest. A lifetime of fighting and work hadn't made him handsome like the men in the castle, but it had made him rough and strong. And now she could feel his penis growing inside her--nothing massive, but it grew further up into her and swelling in girth.

Randall, lost in his own feelings for a moment looked back to Savannah atop him and caught the look in her eyes--wide, surprised, and delighted. He could feel it filling her completely now, yet not stretching anything to bad, just comfortably snug.

Savannah lifted herself off him a bit, revealing the changed organ. Randall wasn't one to like looking at dick, but he could appreciate what he saw attached to him now. Fine red scales had covered the length of the shaft, which had grown to a total of about seven inches, though it was hard to tell at a glance. It was proportionately thick too, but what struck them both as the most interesting was the tip where his foreskin pulled back was still soft flesh--and jet black.

Savannah dropped herself right back down onto it and they both took a sharp breath in. In that moment, she decided there was no more time for gentle love--it was time to go hard. She rode him as harshly as possible, dropping down onto his hips in sudden motions over and over, his cock now large enough it filled her completely. Yet it didn't hurt at all like she expected such a large penis to, for her, it was the perfect size. Probably by design.

After a few minutes Savannah just felt more invigorated, and without realizing it, her wings were starting to contribute as well. Rather than using her quads to repetitively lift her off of him, she had her wings spread and was giving them slight gentle beats, lifting her up the six or so inches then dropping her right back down. She only realized when Randall started laughing and gestured to either side.

Savannah responded by leaning over with a kiss, snaking her tongue into his mouth and surprised when his slipped into her. The kiss was so alien yet erotic, but that didn't matter to either of them. This was strange, and they didn't care. When she felt his cock twitch inside her, she clenched down as hard as she could and humped him one last time, finally allowing him to finish.

Apparently the draconian heat had started to spread to him as well, because even with her tolerance to fire, she felt the cum hot inside her. He thrusted again and again, ejaculating a few more times before he finally withdrew and broke off the kiss. She looked down briefly to see his penis starting to soften, and jet black cum dripping out of her, something Randall noticed too. A little bit fell down and landed on the makeshift bed of leaves and grass, so hot it sent up a plume of smoke.

"Dangerous jizz," she grinned, lying down on top of him again. "Even I felt that heat."

He looked a bit embarrassed and proud, then kissed her again, albeit more romantically this time without the lust they had before. He used the opportunity to nudge her side, sliding her off his chest and onto the bed beside him. Her heart was still racing, and with her hand on his chest, she could feel his doing the same.

"How long will it take?" he finally asked.

"The change?"

He nodded.

Savannah sighed and thought. Hers had been a bit of an edge case, having held it back for so long, but her father had talked to several of the victims and heard secondhand accounts before they were banished--or been forced to flee.

"Probably a day or so," she finally said. "But it varies from person to person. And I've got no idea about the secondhand changes like this. I've never even heard of this happening..."

"I just hope I get wings," he grunted.

She giggled and snuggled up to him. "You will. It's why we banish people after all. The changes are always absolute..."