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Solomon sat in his tent; his page shaving his face as he mulled over the serious problem that he, and the rest of the army of Cluthor, faced. Shaving had become part of the army's nightly ritual: some of the mounts of the enemy - as well as their leader - could breathe fire, and everyone who had been there would remember the screams when the fire had blasted out and unprotected beards had continued to burn already-charred skin. Besides, Solomon needed time to think.

They were running low on weapons. The opposing army's first target had been the mining communities on the far side of the Western Ridge. Whether they had wanted the metal for their own, or just to deny that resource to their enemy, nobody knew; it may have just been an unfortunate stroke of good luck for their reptilian enemies. Nobody knew where they had come from; hell, nobody knew what they even were, except that they were large, scaly and difficult to beat.

The enemy's forces were not numerous - maybe only as little as a thousand, and half that as many war-mounts - but they had tremendous advantages. Both soldiers and mounts had thick scales that were difficult to damage and seemed to be resistant to most elemental effects: to fire they probably had a natural immunity, but they were not affected by the cold snow either, and poisoned strikes had done nothing to them. They also seemed indefatigable: marching for days with no obvious source of supplies, aside from the prisoners that they would take during every battle; prisoners who were never seen again.

Although they did rest occasionally, their camps had been surrounded by smoky fire that blotted out the sky the next morning and kept them from being spied upon or approached in a sneak midnight attack. Even that would have been suicide: the accursed creatures could also see as well at night as they did in the day!

Solomon mentally grimaced, the worn blade scraping across his face. There was so little they did know about their enemy, let alone how to defeat them. The only thing they had established was that the winged one was their leader. Large, black and terrible, his voice rumbled deep and loudly through the air as he glided around, shouting orders to his forces. Twice the size of a man, the creature was a formidable fighter and a great tactician. He even seemed to be able to wield magic as well as any of the kingdom's mages.

"But," Solomon mused, as his page began to wash his face clean, "there was only ever one of him." No other forces had come around the mountains via either long route to the north or south, if the reports were to be believed. Their entire army, it would seem, was in this one area, being lead by this one general.

That was the only weakness that he had noticed: the enemy soldiers, while strong and brave, were not that much more intelligent than their war-beasts. The had won simply by being stronger and tougher, with heavy muscular bodies, long thick tails, sharp claws and teeth, and with spiked horns sprouting from their head, down their spines and across their shoulders. Brute force had won them all their battles.

"Captain!" screamed Solomon, batting his page out of the way as he leapt to his feet. "Find me every strong man and mage that you can, and wake up the blacksmiths and quartermaster!" he shouted at the boy, who dutifully disappeared with a nod.

They were low on metal, but they wouldn't need much for the plan forming in his mind. Just enough for a heavy cage. But what they'd really need was rope for nets - as much as they could spare - and as many strong men as they could muster.

Remove the leader, and the army might falter. The leader who flew. The leader who was the only one who flew. There was an old proverb: "One net can catch many fish, many nets can catch one fish." It was about time they went fishing.

His plan would risk a great deal, but it was the only thing they had.

The human army moved before dawn: they needed to position themselves before the fire and smoke had died down, and their inhuman opponents emerged. Their position had offered no natural cover: they were in the middle of the gently rolling hills farmland along the main route from the western end of the island to the capital on a peninsula to the east. As a result, they would have to make their own.

Scattered amongst the soldiers, Solomon had placed disguised mages. Instead of wielding the magic in their strongest schools as individuals, they were all going to use one spell: a spell of levitation on the rope nets hidden behind the first row of soldiers.

All, that is, except for the central force, filled with the strongest men they could muster, with Solomon there to lead them. Shaped like an arrow-head, this was to hopefully appear to the enemy as the force that would try - and fail - to pierce first. Instead, aside from the first row - for protection and as part of the subterfuge - the rest had their weapons sheathed; their job was to rush forwards and grab on to the nets that entangled the monstrous army's flying commander. Aided by the mages, Solomon hoped, they would be able to capture him and have enough time to force him into a reinforced metal cage he had ordered constructed last night, and was waiting to arrive on a horse-drawn cart.

Solomon sweated in his armour; even though it was still early morning, he had been busy making sure everything was ready. Salty water soaked into his pale under-shirt, making it cling to the contours of his large, muscular body.

The start of combat was announced with the appearance of a large, black figure emerging from the smoke of the dying fires. A deep, booming roar, like the sound of approaching thunder, came from the figure as it spread its wings, swooping around and gliding behind the smoke.

His call was echoed by an even louder chorus of roars from below, followed by the march of footsteps that shook the earth beneath them. The army of reptilian monsters stepped through the large pile of hot ashes and embers as though they were mere cobblestones, their large ivory fangs exposed as they chanted their war-cry.

Solomon gripped his sword tightly; their dark leader - a terrifying beast - was not doing what he had usually done: swooped in above the vanguard of his forces, smashing into the human army, swinging his tail like a heavy club as he raised up on his hind legs, slashing and biting and gorging with his horns. He seemed to always want to strike at their strongest areas, still managing to beat them. Today was different. Solomon began to worry.

The horde continued to advance on their position, the smoke following them as they marched. Solomon's own army faced them bravely, the men around him squinting into the heat, coughing as sooty air blew into their faces. A cold realisation began to dawn on Solomon, and he cursed himself: the enemy had discovered their deceit somehow, and had changed his tactics accordingly.

He could almost hear the black beast's wings beating his wings, grinning or laughing - if these monsters could even do that - as he took advantage of the positioning of all of their strongest men being in one place. It had been Solomon's cheese to get the beast into the trap, but it was they who were the mice.

Solomon quickly went through his options: until the beast came to face them, their plan was worthless. The plan itself was still salvageable, but with their vision being obscured and their prey on the other side of the battlefield it would not work today. He sighed; the only thing now was to ensure enough of his forces had time to reposition to somewhere more favourable.

Addressing the men on the ends of both flanks, he commanded, trying to hide the frustration in his voice, "Order the men to gather the nets and retreat; only the front lines are to stay behind to hold the enemy off to give them time. Make sure to keep as many of the mages alive as they can." They nodded, wordlessly, stirring their horses into action.

Turning to his own men, he called out, "The last three ranks, go with him, they will need your strength later." Facing forwards, Solomon bellowed out, "The rest of you, to battle!" Yelling incoherently, he charged forward, the heavy muscles in his arms tensing as he gripped his sword tightly, bringing it high into the air.

The enemy forces rushed at them to meet their advance, the two armies smashing into each other. Solomon squared off with one of the bipedal beasts, who bellowed and swung his huge arms at him. Solomon, a much better trained fighter than his opponent, grabbed one of the horns growing out of the creature's head, twisting it to one side as Solomon dove into him. His blade aimed right into the creature's soft throat - one of the few potential weak spots on the creature, and the only one in sight - as the sound of battle echoed around him.

His opponent gargling, Solomon extracted his sword as he tried to escape being trampled by of one of their war-mounts. The battlefield was chaotic as he rolled to his feet, fending off attack from two sides with the swing of one fist and the slash of a blade.

Suddenly, it grew dark, and Solomon was plucked off of the ground as a heavy - and surprisingly dexterous - clawed foot wrapped around him. The jet black scales on it were unmistakable: the enemy leader had decided to enter the fray after all. He tried to twist around as he saw the defeat of his forces as his men lay dead or overwhelmed.

The creature lifted him up, as if to show off the bulk of the human forces rapidly running away. "A pretty game," it rumbled, almost respectfully as it tightened his grip around the knight in its talons. "One of the first times I have actually had to think before a battle. As much as I do like rampaging like a beast, I have missed the mental challenge. I even think you might have killed one of my horde. It will be a shame to lose you as an opponent."

Solomon struggled for breath as they soared, the creature's claws crumpling his armour around him. Thoughts swirled through his head as his vision began to blacken: relief that he had at least saved the lives of most of his men, confusion that the creature could communicate in their language, and anger at having been caught.

"But," the enemy leader said, with a voice heavy with a meaning Solomon couldn't fathom as he passed out, "I have a much better use for you."

By the time Solomon regained consciousness, it was night-time; or, at least, it may as well have been: the air around them was hot, and the sky above him was filled with smoke. Around them, he heard a low, oscillating murmur, occasionally punctuated by a terrified scream or a high shriek or a satisfied hiss. His body ached: not just from the battle, and being squeezed in his armour, but having slept in it for however many hours he had been unconscious.

His first instinct was to fall back into a deep sleep: he was tired and sore and beaten. But, Solomon was a knight, a soldier of the realm, and he had been captured by the enemy: he had to try to save as many of his men as possible and escape. That required that he at least stay alert, if not mobile.

Scanning his eyes from side to side without moving his head, he noticed he was standing within what looked like a ring of enemy soldiers. Their huge, reptilian bodies posed to stare into the centre of the circle in which Solomon found himself, standing with their large, taloned feet spread apart. They panted, their tongues lolling over the ends of their sharp fangs, smoke drifting out of the nostrils of some of them with the rare lick of flame. They had not worn much in battle - they hadn't needed to - but what little they had was gone.

This, Solomon deduced, was probably tied into the fact that most of them had what he guessed were erections. The shafts were long - with their pointed tip reaching up to the base of their their large pectorals - as well as thick. They were equally as fierce as the creatures themselves: surrounding the heads of the penises were fierce barbs, and ridges of scales ran down from the tip to the base, having emerged from a slit below their abdomens. Around the base bulged what he guessed were these creature's equivalents of scrota: two round lumps that occasionally jostled with excitement.

Solomon cursed; if he had had only a few of the monsters guarding him, he might have been able to sneak away, particularly if the were as 'distracted' as they appeared to be. But he seemed to be practically encircled by, at a guess, fifty to a hundred of the creatures.

A warm blast of air from above pulled Solomon's attention upwards: the enemy's giant, black-scaled leader stared at him with intense yellow, reptilian eyes. Its giant jaw was open, and its long, thick tongue slithered in and out, dripping very hot saliva over Solomon's face; he yelped in surprise and disgust, raising one weary arm to wipe it from his eyes.

"I have been waiting for you," the creature gloated. "I wanted to congratulate you again, for being the first human to actually kill one of my grunts. It's such a pleasure" - it spoke this word so lustfully, Solomon felt himself shrink back a little - "watching you pit your strong, powerful body against them. Almost a shame that you feel the need to wear this."

The creature's front left foot reached for Solomon, talons gripping the front of his breastplate. Solomon heard a shriek as the talons dug into the carefully-hammered metal as it slowly began to split open, the tip of the talon barely missing his skin as it sliced open his breastplate from his neck down. He was then scooped out of the torn metal, feet-first, and laid down into a clear patch of ground.

One of the aroused grunts was beckoned for; the creature plodded over. His commander ordered, "Remove his armour and clothes, and take them away. He will no longer be needing them." The grunt bowed his scaly head, and turned towards Solomon.

Solomon started to struggle, but quickly stopped when the futility of resisting occurred to him: after all, the armour was ruined anyway, and would only slow him down while trying to escape, and the leader could very quickly get others to pin him down. Having one of these creature's erections rubbing up against him while trying to strip his body was intolerable enough.

As he was undressed, Solomon's eyes stalked the enemy leader; the large creature paced around, examining Solomon's body hungrily. A gigantic, monstrous penis plunged out underneath the beasts scaly belly.

"Not only are you formidable in mind and on the battlefield," the creature observed, smoke swirling excitedly from the corners of his mouth, "but also strong in body and very amply gifted in the nether regions. At least, for a human."

Solomon blushed, covering his member. "What is it that you want?" he inquired curtly.

"I desire so many things," he answered, lowering the tip of his muzzle close to Solomon's groin and blasted it with a smoky snort. "But are you willing to provide them for me? Are you both a soldier and a statesman?"

"If you are offering peace," Solomon countered, "then I cannot accept on behalf of the kingdom. I can only petition you to release my men, and spare them whatever terrible fate you have planned for them."

"My, you are a fiesty one, to bargain when you have very little to offer that I cannot just take!" the creature's head tilted back, and it laughed with a deep rumble, "Though it appears as though you are rather ignorant in some matters. I take it, then, that you have never heard of the legend of the dragons?"

"I cannot say that I have," Solomon answered honestly and quickly; he did not like the way the creature kept eyeing him so lustfully. "I did not put much stock in fairy tales. But, if you are such a thing - a dragon - then perhaps I was mistaken."

"I am not just a dragon! I am the dragon! Yoll: the first; the most powerful; the father and king of all dragons!" the dragon king boasted. "I was the one who studied the old legends, I was the one who ventured into the dangerous ruins underneath the mountains, and I was the one who found the Dragon Seed. I and I alone was brave enough to risk everything - including my humanity - and I was greatly rewarded: I revived a long-dead race single-handedly."

Solomon asked doubtfully, "You - you were a human?" It would, perhaps, explain how the dragon king knew how to speak, he noted, but such a thing would have taken much more power than any recorded mage was known to possess.

"Yes," Yoll admitted, "but I barely remember being so. Power always comes at a cost; mine comes with the forgetting of an old life. I believe the ancient dragons intended for this to be so: to sever all emotional ties someone may have to their old race. I know what I did to become this way, only so that I may do so again should another calamity befall us." The dragon king flashed a toothy grin. "But your skepticism is healthy; your critical mind speaks to your high intelligence. Perhaps a demonstration is in order?"

Solomon quickly found himself being flanked on both sides by two of the dragon soldiers, their rough, scaly claws gripping his wrists and shoulders so tightly that straining too much would wrench his arms from their sockets. The dragon king bellowed in what Solomon guessed was the dragon's native speech, and a few moments later into the circle of dragons was carried a terrified soldier, similarly stripped of his weapons, armour and clothing. Solomon recognised him: it was Donovan, the older brother of Solomon's page.

"Sir Solomon!" Donovan shouted, some relief plain on the frightened, weary face of the young man. Before he could say or do more, the dragons carrying the tall, slender-muscled soldier forced him to bow before their king.

"I first discovered the true power of the Dragon Seed," the dragon king told Solomon, one hand reaching down, slowly teasing his long hard shaft as he shifted on to two legs, supporting himself slightly by extending out his wings. "It literally is just that: the seed of the king of the dragons. All dragons carry it within them: the dragon king is always the father of the whole race."

He interrupted his speech to look into Donovan's face, the soldier quivering with fear as Yoll's tongue extended out. It reached down, licking Donovan's chest. Solomon tried to struggle, but the dragon soldiers grip was as firm as their shafts still seemed to be.

"It is our lifeblood," the dragon king continued. "It nourishes us and sustains us: it is the most concentrated of magics." He groaned in pleasure, his thick, ridged penis throbbed in his forepaws. He aimed the tip into Donovan's face. Donovan squirmed, trying to move, but he was no match for the dragons in terms of strength.

"It is how we breed," Yoll added, panting as his cock throbbed as though it was its own living, breathing thing. A large bead of clear liquid oozed out of the end; Yoll thrust forward, smearing it into Donovan's face. Almost as soon as that had happened, to Solomon's surprise, the guards holding Donovan down released him.

Donovan immediately leapt up to his feet, his dirty hands struggling to wipe the dragon's fluid off of him. His chest expanded and contracted heavily, he stepped around unsteadily. Solomon twisted around as much as he could, but he was held just as fast as ever.

The dragon king's shaft continued to pulse, the tip slowly dripping into his outstretched claws. "I could have dosed him with more," he said, twisting his neck to look at Solomon, "but even with that small amounts, you will soon see the effects.

True to the dragon king's word, Solomon saw Donovan's behaviour changing. The most obvious was the man's pale shaft, the base surrounded with a thick bush the same orange-red colour that lined his head, started to thicken and bulge, swinging up as he became erect. The panic slowly drained out of Donovan's face; instead of confusion or terror, his eyes took on a dull glaze. His jaw dropped as he panted, his hands wandering down to his now-throbbing shaft: the same hands that had been wiping the dragon king's fluid from his face.

"No!" Solomon called out, the truth dawning on him as he was made to watch as Donovan panted, legs widening as he eagerly stroked his shaft. The thin layer of foreskin pulled further down as the head seemed to migrate further and further out of the grip of Donovan's hand.

"Most men are weak," Yoll noted with some disgust. "They lack your training and personal discipline. Your diligence and creativity gives your mind strength that many men lack. Most of them teem with the desire to be simple beasts lost in the rut."

Donovan groaned in pain: his shaft was nearly purple in colour as he worked the extra length with his other hand. Saliva trickled down the side of his mouth as he dropped to his knees in front of the dragon king's outstretched hand. "My... my king," he said, barely able to speak the words of fealty as his cock began to drip from the unnaturally pointed tip of his shaft. His hands fell to the earth as he bowed his head; when he raised it like a faithful dog greeting his master, Solomon couldn't help but notice that the retracted foreskin was starting to harden into tough ridges.

Lowering his fluid-filled, taloned hand towards the supplicating human, Yoll intoned, "Come! Come and drink!" before switching into the dragon-speak that Solomon didn't understand. Donovan eagerly reached up, licking the fluids from the dragon king's erection off of his outstretched palm.

Solomon moaned in horror, forced to witness things he had not believed even magic could do close-at-hand. Blood-red scales were now visibly budding out of the skin around Donovan's crotch, slowly spreading along the mutating soldiers body. Donovan's penis slapped wetly against his chest as he eagerly cleaned his new king's talons.

"Even simple beasts, however, have their uses," the dragon king noted, grinning at the pale, shaking Solomon. Donovan circled around; his rear raised as he offered himself to his master. Yoll lumbered over slowly, his long tongue slithering out, reaching underneath his new thrall and caressing the now fully draconic penis that throbbed and leaked and slapped against Donovan's chest.

"You have seen them used for war," Yoll chuckled, "but they are also a good diversion for pleasure." He lined up his dripping shaft with Donovan's spread, eager hole, scales starting to slowly spread around it; his body dwarfing that of the soldier that was gradually losing more and more of his humanity, and seemed all the more pleased in it.

The dragon king, it appeared, was very practised: his dripping shaft slid a few times along Donovan's underside, the juices hastening the spread of the scales around his tight hole, which loosened just enough for the king to slide his tip in with a deep bellow of pleasure.

Solomon felt tears running down his cheeks. He know realized the fate of the men who had fallen in battle had been to satisfy the hunger of the enemy; but instead of the hunger for food, it was the hunger of lust. His strength seemed to leave him: visions of burning towns, stripped of their men, the women and children fleeing in terror, filled his mind. That was how the army had gone unnoticed: it had only recently been formed by the warped bodies and enslaved minds of the missing.

The dragon king's muscular haunches thrust in and out, pushing deeper and deeper into Donovan. It did not take long for the damage to become apparent: as Yoll spilled more and more of his fluid into the man, the more humanity was lost. Scales budded all over Donovan's body, with thicker horns pushing out from his shoulders. Donovan sounded lost in pleasure, the enjoyment of the immense strength of the dragon king overwhelming him clear.

His body appeared to bulk up: Solomon could barely see Donovan under Yoll's massive body, but the hands he saw clawing at the dirt were definitely growing, the muscles of the arms they were attached to obviously thickening against the taut skin as cords visibly shifted and thickened.

The dragon king's thrusts pushed further and further into Donovan; Solomon could hear the wet, slightly-metallic smacking of two sets of dragon flesh rubbing against one another in hard, rapid motions. As if to show off, or to demonstrate to Solomon the effects of his corrupting influence on the poor, doomed soldier, Yoll shifted the weight of his front body onto one "hand", the other moving down to raise Donovan's new tail out of the way of his deep thrusting.

Solomon could barely see anything of Donovan the man left. Flesh had given away almost completely to scales, only a few spots on his face still left unchanged as the dragon's seed poured into him. The dragon lord was ejaculating so much, a large puddle was pooling around the new dragon's raised haunches. They not quite as well defined as the other war-beasts Solomon had seen, but they were certainly no longer human: the feet had taken length and muscle away from the shins to form more bestial hind legs. The rounded, muscular torso of the creature that had been Donovan dripped with his own fluids, squirting out the last dregs of the old human seed as the new draconic one cleansed his body.

With a thunderous groan, Yoll thrust deep and hard into the new body he had claimed, his eyes rolling up in pleasure. Solomon heard - and almost felt - the large black dragon ejaculating heavily into the smaller one, as a fresh new muzzle changed the last remnants of Donovan from the creature's body, fangs pushing out in one smooth arc. Tongues of flame burst out of the excited new dragon's mouth, its own cock pouring fluids on to the already-soaked dirt.

When the dragon king slid his shaft out of his new minion, he did so with a glinting gleam in his eyes at an almost completely demoralised Solomon. Yoll ordered the dragons around him in the his now-native language, and they eagerly went up to the transformed beast, their penises dripping in anticipation as they led him away.

"He is small now," Yoll explained to Solomon, panting heavily, "but feasting off of the seed of his brothers will make him grow in strength, binding him even more to my service. Hopefully, in the next day or two, he will have grown to his full size."

Solomon gritted his teeth, offering a silent prayer for Donovan's soul. He wasn't going to give Yoll the satisfaction of speaking to him: the dragon clearly craved attention, and he was going to do his very best to refuse to kowtow to him. Now that he knew what to expect - the dragon king turning him into a mindless beast - he would steel his mind against it.

The dragons holding him down released him, returning to the circle of guards. Solomon noticed a few of them had been so stimulated by the display of their king that their penises glistened and dripped with, what Solomon guessed, was the same corrupting seed that flowed through their master.

"A fun little diversion," the dragon king said, turning back towards Solomon as he eased back on to all fours. "Seeing you in action, and now here in the flesh, has invigorated me."

Solomon sneered silently, spitting at the dragon; the saliva arced through the air before landing into the dirt.

Yoll laughed, "Ha! Even though your body feels terror and revulsion - do not deny it, I can hear your heart beating quite well, and I can almost smell your emotions - you still have the mental strength to defy me! Oh, I shall enjoy your conversion greatly..."

The dragon king's wings stretched outwards as he yawned, showing off the insides of his large muzzle. He continued, "But that will have to wait. I doubt that I will manage to persuade you, but I would at least offer you the opportunity." He reached out his right claw, requesting, "Please, sit."

Solomon didn't move a muscle; the dragon king merely smiled, and said, "If you insist; I suppose I will have you on your knees before me soon enough."

Yoll then explained his deal, "You have already seen my forces in action. They are strong and resistant to most forms of harm. They can fight for days on little sustenance, and much of that sustenance can be received from their fellow dragons. They are utterly loyal. But, as I believe you have already puzzled out, we still have two weaknesses: intelligence and leadership.

"After my transformation, I craved the flesh of men; to spread my corrupted seed and watch as they begged for more. But, I had not been a dragon long, and did not fully have control over myself; and, to be honest, the men I found did not have the same level of mental fortitude that I have, and I expect you too have. Shepherds, farmers, miners: they submitted easily - too easily - and the seed overwhelmed them.

"It will only be a matter of time before we have conquered this island kingdom; once that happens, we will set our sights first northwards, and then beyond. But even as my army grows, we are hampered: I have to guide, and train, the forces all on my own. The dragon seed has made them brave and easy to lead, but I need more leaders.

"But now, I believe, I know how to control it: to leave more of the base intelligence intact. My soldiers were the first step in this experiment, to see if I could keep some of the physical features of humanity that may be useful. But I am ready to take it further; I just needed to find the right candidate.

"I needed to find someone who was already strong in body and clever in mind, so that the dragon seed could augment those features. Someone worthy of guiding my armies, and spreading our seed across the land. Someone who could both strike fear into humans, and who could be understood by them. War can be an interesting and fun competition of strength and wit, but all to often all it is is a waste of strong, brave men. I am wise enough to know that surrender is in our best interest.

"You are the best of mankind that I have come across, and I believe you would be the best of dragonkind if you were to convert. Will you submit willingly? Join me; become my general - nay, my son - and together we shall seize this land and others."

Solomon asked, "And what if I refuse? Will you do to me what you have done to so many others: transform me into a mindless beast?"

"Don't be absurd," the dragon chuckled, stretching his muscles in relaxation, "you're far, far too exciting and delicious an opportunity to throw away over some pettiness. Wasting all that potential? Horrible! It is merely that your willingness would make you grow into your potential as a dragon faster."

Solomon, his mind still thinking about what happened before him, inquired, "What about my men? Would you spare the rest of them if..." He trailed off; even if he was brave enough to agree to it in principle, the vile concept still stuck in his throat.

The dragon reached out, running his "hand" along Solomon's inner leg, stating simply, "That would just be delaying their inevitable fate. Once turned, you'd have no interest in anything but sating your lust with them, augmenting our army with their strength. Who would be around to ensure that I satisfied my end of the bargain." He snorted, blowing loose dirt up into the air, adding, "You disappoint me."

"Heaven knows I wouldn't want to do that," Solomon retorted, stepping out of Yoll's reach.

"Well, if you are quite certain," the dragon king replied, breathing out heavily, "then I believe we have danced long enough." He pounced, Solomon landing hard on the ground as the large dragon's forepaws landed squarely on to his arms. Solomon gritted his teeth, closing his lips and eyes tight. The dragon's grip seemed especially warm.

Solomon thrashed, trying to get away; now he didn't care if he was injured - or even killed - in the attempt. Death, he believed, would have been preferable: at least then he would remain himself. But no matter what he tried, he could not get loose as Yoll's weight slid down on top of his. He felt the dragon's barbed shaft rubbing over his chest, the scales of his underbelly scraping against his skin. A long, hot tongue slavered over his face, the lecherous dragon seeming eager, at least in this one instance, to engage in a great deal of foreplay.

The dragon's shaft rubbed against his own; Solomon tried to control himself from allowing the stimulating touch of this creature from affecting him as the dragon slithered up his body. It was difficult; the dragon's heft and movement made it almost impossible to breathe, especially with Solomon trying to avoid gasping for air and giving the dragon's seed as little chance as possible of corrupting him.

The dragon's grip left Solomon's arms - his massive torso was pinning the knight down anyway - and Solomon heard a heavy moaning that rumbled through his body. He heard the wings of the dragon beat the smoky air around them as the dragon king began to stroke himself, beginning to sate the lust he had shown for Solomon.

Solomon prayed for help, but he suspected none would come. He struggled for a moment, then stopped: he did not want to help to arouse the dragon at all. Besides, he needed to conserve his strength: he could almost feel the dragon's seed collecting in the dragon's body, preparing for his ejaculation as the base of the inhuman cock twitched in excitement.

The large dragon moaned, and Solomon felt a heavy, sticky fluid drip on to his face. His lips and eyelids tightened further, quickly gasping for as much air as he could; he even tried to brace his nostrils to stop the dragon's fluid from entering his body.

More and more flowed over his head, Solomon's hair getting slicked back as the fluid got into his ears and ran down his chin. Solomon had to slowly snort to keep it from entering his nose and running down the back of his throat, but he was having trouble breathing. His body reacted automatically to the lack of air; Solomon gasped and choked as his mouth filled with the dragon's seed that would corrupt him.

Yoll's mass lifted off of his body, a thick line of fluid running down Solomon's body as the tip of the dragon's cock bobbed up and down. "You cannot fight it any more," he advised, "draw its strength into you; embrace it."

Solomon quickly reached up, wiping the clear seed from his face. He leaned over, sticking his fingers down his throat as he tried to spit out and vomit as much of the seed as he possibly could. He could tell it was already having an effect: his head was pounding, and his body was starting to feel warm and pleasant. He fought against himself, struggling to avoid the satisfaction his erection would give to the dragon king.

Struggling to his feet, Solomon opened his eyes, fighting off the stubborn dragon seed that stuck to his face. Yoll's cock loomed in front of him - the dragon hadn't retreated far - as the dragon prepared to pump out more. He gripped his head, trying to fight off the strange urges he felt: the dragon's large form had been impressive for its ferocity, but now its impressiveness came from the smooth, rounded muscles, packed with an alluring strength. Solomon's own shaft spasmed as his heated body caused his penis to slowly thicken.

With his toes digging into the dirt in a desperate bid to draw strength from something, Solomon watched as Yoll stroked himself again, another thick bead of semen dripping from the pointed tip inches away from Solomon's body. He willed himself to step back, but it wasn't in time: the fluid splashed down his chest, the seed flowing through the curves of his muscles, setting his skin aflame as his body craved to give in to desire.

Continuing to fight against it, Solomon moved his hands down to his torso to brush it away. Grunting, his cock swung from side to side as it became more erect, the fluid coating his hands. So distracted was he by getting rid of the seed that was already on his body, Solomon had fallen into the dragon's trap: he had forgotten the earlier corruption of his once-fellow-soldier. Yoll grunted, then reached down, one large, sticky, taloned hand grasping Solomon's long, thick, slowly-stiffening shaft.

Solomon moaned as his cock throbbed almost instantaneously into a full, thick erection. He fell to his knees as his body was smacked by an intense, primal need for sexual pleasure. Clenching his arms behind his back in a bid to stop himself from submitting to this need by touching and rubbing his strong, red erection, he felt energy shooting throughout his body.

His foreskin rolled back from the head of his already-sticky, pulsing shaft. The veins running along his member bulged as he felt his cock growing longer, longer than it had ever been in his life. Defiantly, he spat again at the dragon king, who loomed large and looked down with a barely-controlled lust of his own. Solomon felt that the dragon king was just waiting for him to give a signal of submission, and the struggling knight's body seemed to want to give that to him.

Gazing up at the large, black dragon, he tried to think about how much he despised him. Solomon thought the battles they had fought against him, his mind wanting to focus on Yoll's cruelty and savagery, but it wandered on how nicely the dragon's scaled body moved - graceful for a body of that size - and how impressive his muscles and wings were. He cursed; realising his subconscious was trying to betray him. Instead, he tried to focus on the horror of what happened to Donovan, but again he found himself more focused on the dragon's shaft sliding into the eager, squirming transforming human's needy hole.

Solomon felt the draconic tip his penis would have slowly forming: his shaft tingled both in pleasure and in growth, the smooth rounded end becoming more acutely angled as the sensitive skin pushed upwards. His manhood had always been impressive - at least, according to what he had been told - but even that was not enough for a dragon, it seemed.

The dragon king reached down and stroked Solomon's hair. He didn't flinch or fight back. He didn't have the strength to resist anything but his own body, and even there he was failing. His thoughts were vaporous, his memories becoming almost dreamlike as the fog of change washed over his body. Every sensation of his body seemed to be enhanced in this state, even the foreign feeling of something - your scales, his subconscious told him - slowly growing against the contours of his throbbing shaft.

Solomon looked up at the dragon king, his eyes following the contours of muscle visible through the scales. Somehow, they felt very appealing, and he couldn't draw his eyes away - until they snapped on to the throbbing shaft that was in easy reach. The human will that had been admired was weakening as the dragon seed performed its magic, slowly eating it away from the inside. Half of him wanted to reach out and suckle, the feelings of the spikes digging into the sensetive flesh of his mouth intensely erotic; the other half wanted to run screaming off of a cliff.

Saliva dribbled down his cheek as a glazed look appeared in Solomon's face. The initial mental effects of the dragon seed had broken through the final barriers; it would only be a matter of time until they overwhelmed his thoughts. As though to emphasize this, the wrinkles at the tip of his foreskin hardened, iron-strong scales sprouting quickly over the ridges as thicker parts pushed out into the same kind of barbs that appeared on all the throbbing, dripping cocks that were surrounding him: Solomon could almost feel the collective need of the dragons thrumming through his own body. It felt good, despite his efforts to resist.

His newly-barbed shaft jabbing into his tight abdominal muscles, Solomon bowed before the dragon king. The king responded, "Good! Feel the power of your kin flowing through you! Let it fill you up!"

"N-no!" he stammered weakly, trying to believe his own words, to hold on to them as draconic lust buffeted him from outside and now within.

The dragon king roared in triumph; Solomon felt the pleasure of the king ripple through him, all the lust that Yoll had for his body saturating him and reflecting back. His hole twitched, the promise of the king's merest touch sent his body into erotic spasms, and his muscles shivered and twitched at the thought.

"And as it fills you up," the dragon king chuckled, "so shall the dragon seed!"

Solomon's body reacted instantly, ignoring his mental struggles for control: the sexual needs of the dragon king - and all of the dragons - seared through his body. From his prone position, he turned around, spreading his legs slightly and raising his ass to the king; not as an insult, but as an offering. His own cock slapped against his chest as the scales continued to grow along its increasing length and girth, the tip rising up only two fist's distance from the bottom of his neck.

He moaned bestially and deeply as Yoll's tongue licked the thick, bunched muscles of his back; the dragon's saliva warm and almost alive. The tongue meandered all over Solomon, heading up to lick at the semen-covered face of the knight - no longer needed to influence his mind - and to slide the agile tip into Solomon's open, awaiting mouth.

The tonguing didn't last long; the bodies of both dragon and knight were now both impatient for escalation and the eventual ecstatic release. Yoll's tongue slid over Solomon's shoulder, following the path delineated by his spine down to near the point where his aching cock waited to be satisfied. His cock oozed as the dragon king aimed it near Solomon's quivering hole, the dragon seed making it tingle and loosen as the nearby flesh started to darken, tiny scales emerging only moments later.

Solomon continued to fight off the draconic influences, retreating deeper and deeper into his own mind as every emotional connection to humanity was worn down, instilling within him slowly new desires: lust towards his fellow men, the desire to spread the dragon's seed and to see his people - Solomon particularly blanched at this connection - rise up to claim their rightful dominance in this world.

With a dragon's tongue playing over his ass, Solomon pushed back; it was easier now to fight off the mental changes if his body just went along with his desires. His cock slapped him in the chest, before it twitched. His balls ached and squeezed as the dragon seed began to corrupt them. He felt a warm rush travelling up the length, and a hot, clear fluid dripped from the tip of his dragon-shaped and increasingly-dragon-scaled member as his body sought to flush out the last dregs of his humanity.

Solomon felt the sharp throbbing shaft of the dragon king press against his hole, the pointed end scraping up and down pleasantly against the sensitive lower scales of his body. He moaned, pulsing his cock in an effort to squirt out another line of his human semen. It felt good: even though he was spilling seed, and he felt the same feelings of ecstatic bliss that should come with an orgasm, his body still seemed to crave more, to be missing some needed element. This was just the precursor to something even more glorious.

Yoll's tip dripped; the dragon hunched down onto Solomon's prone form, his body encompassing the changing human as it had done so many times before. But this time, Solomon felt, was unique: the dragon had really lusted for him, not just as someone to corrupt for the sake of one more dragon, but because the success of the dragon's campaign needed him. He shuddered as the dragon king's somewhat sticky belly squelched onto his back, his eyes rolling upwards as he felt the rough barbs slide against his sensitive sphincter as it stretched outwards.

Solomon's body boiled, his fingers digging into the ground as the dragon king bore his massive weight down on him, forcing his cock through the tight, tangled innards of the knight. The barbs gripped tightly, allowing the dragon seed to permeate into his body as the shaft slid in slowly. His cock pulsed again, his swinging scrotum sprouting scales as the end of his manhood resembled that of his new master more fully.

A new part of Solomon sprouted, pushing in between the small gap between him and the huge dragon on top of him. "My tail!" his weak human part thought in horror, as more of it fell under the dragon onslaught. The magic of the dragon seed made it grow quickly: in a matter of moments, it had coiled down the length of his firm, muscular legs; similarly scaled, with a hard, saw-tooth like ridge running along the length, growing into the small horns budding along his spine.

The changes washed over his body with every passing thrust; scales spreading rapidly over his skin in almost fire-kissed waves. He bent his head down, accidentally squirting a load of his lost humanity over his chin as the shadow of jet scales encompassed his legs and torso, the clear dragon seed slickly dripping down the insides of his legs as Yoll thrust in deeper. The dragon king did not hold back: he, too, seemed to be different; more alive as he claimed Solomon as the closest of his flesh and blood, a dark prince to help him conquer and reign over the globe.

The dragon seed flowed liberally through his insides: his muscles, already impressive, began to fortify with extra power in order to keep them working at their peak for days in the harshest conditions. His bones began to become as strong as iron and almost as permanent as the stone, and his muscles grew in energy to make them feel as light as a bird's. Power coursed through them as the dragon seed merged into his blood, spreading faster and faster as his heart, too, began to change.

"Yeargh!" Solomon screamed, ejaculating hard at the same time as the dragon king flooded his body with more dragon seed. His balls tingled and swelled some more: testes, he thought, suitable for a dragon prince. The tiny part of humanity left in him tried to fight it off, but already it felt itself surrendering the last few inches of his life.

He grabbed hold of his shaft, milking it as he called out in pleasure - instinctively in the dragon tongue - as horns burst bloodlessly from the skin on his shoulders. Yoll's hands gripped on to these, calling out in his own pleasure as he bent Solomon into the ground. Something in his body relaxed, and with a powerful thrust Yoll plunged his shaft as deep into Solomon as it would go.

Solomon's humanity was destroyed in that instant, as he forgot his old human name and the last mental traces of his humanity.

More horns appeared, forcing out of his chin and elbows. The corrupted knight joined in the chorus of pleasured moaning with the other dragons, many of whom ejaculated with the combined power of one royal dragon spawning another. Scales covered most of his body from the neck down - and there, they were quickly growing upwards to complete his skin's transformation - his muscles and bones strengthening in order to master his new body's heavier weight.

He dug his toes into the dirt, large rents appearing as his left toes sprouted in the sharp, black claws all dragons had: the feeling washed over the nameless new dragon still emerging from the human chrysalis. A strong tingling ran down his back; he screamed out as two large, night-black wings burst out of a swollen patch of scales that sprayed harmlessly against the chest of the still-orgasming dragon king. The nameless dragon understood: he needed to be thoroughly washed with the power of his father in order to be worthy of being his general and his first royal son.

Spreading their wings together for the first time, both dragons arched back. Dragon seed pulsed out of both of their shafts: one deep into the other one's ass, the other wildly into the air as the newest member of the dragon horde learned one blissful truth: dragon orgasms were many, frequent, and beyond the ability of any other to understand the sheer bliss that went with them. Had there been anything of the old human left, it was surely destroyed now.

Wrapping his new, thick tail around, he entangled it with his sire's. His body was already growing, no longer the seemingly small, relatively puny human he had been in comparison to being a mighty, potent dragon prince. He orgasmed again, staring lustfully out at the army of dragons who would be all to eager to drink their fill from his throbbing dragonhood.

The scales consumed the last of the skin as the last horns sprouted on his head: although they were the last, they ended up quickly becoming the longest. Two on each side of his head: one straight, the other slightly curved, and all as tough as diamond and as black as coal.

His new, enhanced senses began to flood into his draconic brain. His glowing yellow, reptilian-appearing eyes stared out, surveying everything with vision more powerful than the sharpest-eyed eagle and more vibrant than the most creative artist's palette. His slightly-angled, scale-lined nostrils smelled mostly the hot, fiery dragon seed that had been spilled all around - because that is what pleased him the most - but quickly determined what wood was being burned by the scents of the smoke, and how many delicious, easily-corruptible humans still remained in the camp. His wide, wing-like ears picked up all the sounds of the camp in minute detail, and even farther beyond, his more powerful mind quickly processing the new data.

"No wonder my father figured out my plan," he thought, chuckling at his foolishness. "He overheard me!"

The dragon king pulled out, allowing his nearly-complete progeny to enjoy those last few moments of rebirth on his own. His new son understood, dragon seed dripping out of rear end as the blunt human teeth sharpened into a row of sharp dragon-like fang-teeth, that the last bit of pleasure was his to give to himself. His clawed hands reached down, stroking his magnificent member, wings spread open - limbs more powerful than any human could possess, and only the greatest would after elevation into dragonhood - and raised himself up on to his knees.

As he stroked, the dragon horde began to chant. The chant rumbled through his body, filling him with even more power. Here was the best and strongest army in the world, and he was their master; there was his father, the king and his liege lord.

With a heavy bellow, he ejaculated: a heavy stream of dragon seed of his own bidding. The crowd rejoiced, excited by their new master, and eager to enjoy the rest of the evening's festivities.

The dragon king rested one forepaw on his shoulder; he turned around as Yoll stood up on his hind legs: the dragon king was still much bigger, but now he was not nearly so fierce. His dragon heart pounded in admiration as the crowd of dragons called out for him even more forcefully.

"We welcome this new dragon," the dragon king proclaimed, "the first of his kind."

The two black dragons - one still retaining some of the features of his human face, one whose humanity was so distant it was forgotten by all - turned and faced each other.

"Do you swear fealty to me, to use your power to spread the Dragon Seed and forge the mightiest empire for our people?" the dragon king bellowed.

"I swear!" the new dragon answered proudly, the dragon tongue coming easily to his lips.

"Then drink," Yoll bellowed, holding out his penis - erect once again - "to seal the oath of loyalty, and rise as Primyoll, First Son of Yoll; my son, my general and the first Dragon Knight!"

The scaled hands wrapped around the long shaft of the dragon king, stroking it sensually. The sharp teeth spread, guiding the pointed tip into the warm, wet, waiting maw. The two black dragons - father- and son-to-be - looked into each other, lust unbidden between them. It did not take long for him to feel the first anticipations of the hot dragon seed erupting from the penis head he avidly suckled on: it twitched and jostled in the scrotal sack that he caressed, and caused the shaft to bulge and twitch in a way that excited him. "This is just as good," he thought, "as sucking my own shaft."

Yoll, the dragon king, came quickly: they had plenty of time for sexual exploration with each other later, but this was a matter of protocol. All royal dragons had to willingly accept the responsibility of the dragon seed orally: he had, when he had drank the once-mysterious fluid he had uncovered, and now his new son, Primyoll, had done so too.

Primyoll felt his new name imprint on his mind: the final piece of the puzzle. He eagerly drank down the seed, his mind filling with the many secrets and legends that had been passed like this - father to son - in the time of the ancient dragons. His lips parted, and he unleashed his father's seed all over his chest.

"For the dragons!" Primyoll crowed, "For the king!"

"For the king!" the grunts bellowed. The war-beasts cried out in agreement, too.

Yoll and Primyoll surveyed their army of dragons. It was a good night for morale: with a new general, they could split their forces. But those plans could wait until morning.

"Father," Primyoll asked with a sly grin, watching as the horde, released from their guard duties, quickly fell into pleasuring themselves and each other, "do you think I could practice my conversion technique on one of our prisoners?"

Yoll was quiet with thought. "Perhaps," he said after some moments, dropping on to all fours with a heavy sigh. "I did not make you my general to take pleasure in my war spoils..." Then he added, grinning back, "But I'm sure the time will come when I will want to enjoy you creating your own sons, and you may want your own war mount."

Primyoll looked upwards, into the smoke overhead; he opened his mouth, fire belching out. "I believe, my king, that I can make a deal."

Yoll asked, "And what, pray tell, would this deal be?"

Primyoll's face exploded into a toothy grin, "Why, I will give you something you have not had before in exchange for one of your many prisoners." His arousal growing, he bent his knees. His powerful wings opened up and he flew into the sky, disappearing against the smoky blackness.

The dragon king's laughter bellowed for miles as he, too, soared upwards.