Dragoness Become
#4 of Becoming
Dragoness Become
By Von Krieger
Traz awoke, the sight of her muzzle filling the lower part of her vision, as she had expected. The dragoness' body shivered and she remembered the dreams she had the past night.
She had, it seemed, lived though her entire decade as a breeder, false memories recalled in the strange logic of dreams. She had felt the soul wrenching agony fade to nothingness, and then acceptance, and then happiness and contentment.
In her dreams, near the end, she had been so easy to make happy. A simple pat on the head had been enough to make her tear up in gratitude. She dreamed of regaining her voice, only to never use it, speaking only a handful of times.
The former elf's eyes widened as she recalled the closing moments of her dream. It had made her sick to her stomach. She darted towards the privy on four quick legs, made for an ambush predator; she opened her mouth and attempted to empty what little there was in her belly.
Rather than from her stomach, something spurted from her maw, splattering onto the stone, hissing and smoking, dissolving the rock upon contact. A few more wretches and a small amount of mixed white and yellow goo was expelled from her stomach, bile mixed with Nirack's seed. It tasted terrible, and Traz made her way to the water basin, lapping up a large ago and gargling to rid herself of taste.
She shuddered again as she recalled the last segment of her dream. Trazlyn the Breeder, Trazlyn the brood whore, who had no will or desire of her own, who had thought of herself as a useless animal for a decade.
In her ninth year she had asked for a single boon, something small, something that would have been so easy to provide. She had asked to keep one of her eggs. Feral, bestial drake or no, she wished to be a mother. Not merely a breeder.
"Such is not for you, creature." Her handler had told her. And the Traz of the dream had meekly bowed her head and apologized for asking for something that she was not worthy of.
It enraged her. The very thought that out of hundreds of eggs, two clutches per year, that she would not even be allowed to experience the rearing of a single one of her hatchlings. Not one. Not even one. She would never knowingly lay eyes on any of her children that she would birth during her decade as their breeding slave.
Trazlyn Shadeglory would not understand the anger that consumed the dragoness Trazlyn. For a male elf could never experience the rage that came to a mother drake who would be forever denied her brood.
Hatred she never knew possible brimmed in the winged reptile, the wrath of a mother defending her nest against interlopers. Trazlyn the elf was truly no more. But in his place was a creature whose escape would now save more than merely her pride and the stasis of her own flesh as an elf.
Trazlyn now wished to escape, not for her, but for the unborn hatchlings that would be forever denied their birth mother. Trazlyn had given up on his existence, wishing simply to fade. The lack of resistance had allowed long dormant draconic instincts to blossom within the dragoness that he had become.
She would die before they stole her eggs. Defend them to the last. And eggs she would have, despite her anger, her body began to ache for the presence of a male. She would do all she could to fight the Devotees of Dessarra, to thwart them at every opportunity. She had been doomed to become a breeder for disrupting their plans for her, by using her second mating to become a sort of dragon that they had not planned on becoming.
She had one mating before her change was complete. The first determined her gender, the second her form, the third her role, so what would the fourth bring? She did not know, but Trazlyn would ruin whatever plans the dragonkin had for her next coupling. There was a perfectly draconic male right in the cell next door.
The dragoness drew in a mouthful of water and poked her muzzle through the gap in the iron grid that served as the divide between the two cells.
The form of the sleeping weredragon, having lost many of his lupine embellishments, but still with a few reminders here and there drew Trazlyn's eyes to it. Well muscled, perfect, and beautiful. His color was lighter than her own, more of a deep gray, while her own was a purple so dark that it was near black, but aside from the coloration, he was much like her.
The same long muzzle that widened ever so slightly near the end, and then came to a point just beyond the nostrils; the twin horns that sloped gently back from the head, following the curve of the skull; the small, long, triangular scutes on the back and tail, the narrow, hardened patch of scale at the end that served as a blade, or perhaps a stinger.
Dannen awoke with a start, as the dragoness spit a stream of chilly water onto his naked, scaled, chained form.
"Ack!" the Were growled with a start, bringing up his wings to shield him from the onslaught of the water. He looked at the dragoness in the next cell and sighed.
"My apologies, Traz, that I was unable to find an escape before your transformation." He said with a sigh.
Trazlyn shrugged and rolled her eyes, then motioned him closer with a forepaw. The weredragon brought himself up against the bars, just the right distance for Traz to drop down and poke her muzzle through a lower gap in the mesh.
Though mostly dragon, Dannen retained several canine features, amongst them his external sack and sheath, which Trazlyn now had in her mouth. The warrior monk's eyes widened and her let out an uncharacteristic squeak of fear. Words of wisdom not written in any text, but likely of the sort never to be discovered by lonely old men atop mountains came to mind. When a dragoness has your maleness in her mouth and seems intent on giving you oral sex, let her.
The skill that Nirack had forced upon her during her transformation was no longer present, but a few remembered techniques and a genuine desire to please were enough to quickly stir Dannen to full arousal in a few moments.
She released him from her maw, instead turning, tail raised, pressing herself back against the division between them. It was not as tight a fit as either would have liked, but Dannen's elven-wolven-draconic member was more than large enough and long enough to give both the pleasure they craved.
It was a lustful act, done out of desire of the flesh and without any real affection between the two. But Trazlyn knew it must be done, and Dannen was curious as to how such a fire had been lit under a creature that had seemed to placid and weepy when last both were awake. Though there was a lack of feeling in the act, Dannen had to admit that despite her feral nature, he found Trazlyn's lithe draconic form quite sexy, and would not mind it pressed up against him in other circumstances.
The dragoness huffed and growled, her claws scraping at the stone floor as she was filled. Her brood whore body had been made seductive and sensitive, the better to break down her resistance to mating. After all, why struggle to fight against doing something that felt so damned good?
It was over far, far too soon for the taste of both participants. Dannen's transformed member was very sensitive and on a hair trigger from the change that left the flesh soft and tender. Trazlyn's body, however, now seemed to climax at the first hint of seed flowing into her.
Both dragons felt something spark between them, a sensation in both that was not their before. The fourth mating brought loyalty, and was meant to bringing a breeder and her handler closer together, to allow easier management of a possibly aggressive and reluctant dragoness.
Trazlyn sighed and smiled as best she could as she pulled away. She felt a few things settle into place within her, the last few pieces of dragonhood slipping into place. Designed as weapons, rather than as an actual breed of dragon, the treatments that both had undergone before their changes progressed to an advanced state made them resistant to all sorts of conditions; heat, cold, and acid among them.
Before Dannen could react, Trazlyn reared back on her hind legs, muzzle poking through the mesh once again. She took the chain that held his wrists bound in her teeth. She repeated the accidental muscular contractions she had made earlier, her acid spitting glands flooding her maw with a green-black fluid that was harmless to Dannen and herself, but which made short work of the iron and silver chain.
She bit down and pulled back, the chain coming with Trazlyn to her cell. She chewed the soft metal and swallowed it, finding it quite tasty. The weredragon grinned at her. Hands free, with the strength of both wolf and dragon, Dannen tore the rest of the bonds from his body, though he made certain to delicately unthread the chains that held his wings shut.
He howled his rage, going from calm and collected, to raging beast in an instant. He fell upon the door to his cell, gripping it with both powerful hands and easily wrenching it from the hinges. The dragonkin had known how to bind him to prevent Dannen from taking the proper grip on the iron wrought door that he would need to escape. With his chains gone, the lycanthrope found it child's play.
Trazlyn's was next, and in and instant other captives began to shout, some calling for the guards, others for their freedom. But one drew the attention of Dannen with her silence. She raised a pair of thin arms; even with the added bulk of the dragon they looked painfully thin. A pair of Mythral bracers etched with eldritch designs adorned them, and kept her magical power bound.
The sorceress looked purposely starved, her weak body keeping her massive magical power in check. Power likely enhanced even further by her transformation into a dragonkin. Her door was wrenched from the hinges in short order, Dannen's claws easily parting the seams and clasps that held the bracers shut.
With a wave of her taloned hands and a spoken word each iron door in the cell block melted into a molten pool, quickly cooling and hardening into harmless lumps. In a single instant dozens of captives were free. While some shied back, huddled in corners, waiting for their masters to come others sought the breaking of any additional bonds that held them. Warriors, wizards, mages, and monstrosities banded together. Some walked on two legs, some on four, some on six or eight. Others slithered on longs tails, other flapped tiny wings and took to the air.
Dragonkin guards filled the hall, but all their presence served as the grant arms and armor to their former captives. A draconic roar sounded from each throat, and they surged upward, fighting all who stood in their way as they fought to escape the hated tower, all willing to brave the chill of the tundra, rather than face life as a twisted experiment of the Devotees of Dessarra.
Some were slain; others crippled but carried along, but most survived the twenty floor battle intact. The dragonkin guards may have been trained warriors, but none fought with the fury of their former captives, who fought for their very souls.
Freed from their stony prison, out in the bitter chill and blowing snow, most gritted themselves for the grueling march that would await them. But freed of the dampening spells of the tower, portals were formed, the three spellcasters threw their all into maintaining them, allowing a trek that would have taken months to take no more than a blink of an eye.
All that remained for the Devotees to find were their footprints upon the snow, and the harsh wind removed even that within minutes. Seventy six test subjects, soon to be converts, experiments, all gone within an instant. All freed due to the burning rage of a mother dragoness defending an unborn brood.
-o-
The familiar sun of home heated Trazlyn's scales, and the air that whipped past her diving frame cooled them as she climbed and swooped in the sweet spring air. She spread her wings wide and slowly gliding down to the balcony beneath her.
Dannen was waiting for her there in his comparatively tiny elven form, rather than his towering draco-lupine self. The dragoness pressed her sinuous body against him, looping around him in a slow circle like a feline. He chuckled and stroked the underside of a muzzle, drawing a purr from her as he brought her head up to kiss her.
The bond between the two had only grown stronger in the past few months. The weredragon remained with her, acting as her voice and had helped to guide her back to her homeland.
It had been difficult, facing her family with what she had become. But her new form and new gender had been welcomed with open arms.
Many of those that had escaped had been individuals with connections, kin to those with positions of power, possessors of noble bloodlines, some were great warriors, sorcerers, druids, and the like themselves, their power nearly stolen by the Devotees of Dessarra.
The sphere of influence the dragonkin had was now shrinking, as many kingdoms now had the desire to prevent them from spreading out from the tunnels beneath that remote tower and into their own realms. Many had been snatched in secret abductions from within the very walls of the best guarded cities in all of the realms.
Bands of adventurers now regularly roamed the northern lands, rooting out nests of dragonkin and taking only token amounts of the plunder from within, the rest going to fund grand armies for the eventual invasion of the Tower of Dessarra, to take the battle to the heart of the dragonkin's power, and spare future victims of a torturous metamorphosis.
Trazlyn knew that she would one day return to that place, vengeance for what had been done to her on her mind. Not for transforming her into a dragon, but for stripping Nirack of her memories and will. The dragoness would put her love's body to rest, to join the soul the Devotees of Dessarra had ripped apart in the creation of a new priestess.
But that was far in the future. The dragoness uncoiled herself from around Dannen and made her way to the fireplace, curling around the circular box that contained the focus of her life.
Trazlyn purred softly and covered her eggs with a wing. Kept close to the fire to keep them warm, kept still, resting on a plush pillow and wrapped in the warmest down blankets the elves had to offer. She had begun to hear the occasional soft noise from within the eggs as her hatchlings shifted slightly within the shells. Someday soon it would be time. Soon she would be a mother.
Trazlyn could hardly wait.