FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

For Faora

Forced Issue

Featuring Faora Meridian

by Mog Moogle

A bead of wax streamed down the side of the candle as the flame danced on the wick. The subtle light flickered against the walls and the lectern it was perched atop of. A blue glow masked the incandescent one briefly then dulled down until the candle covered it again. Sharp well-groomed claws on the end of a scaled paw moved over the top of the cotton-pressed parchment as rigid lines and elegant curves of the blue energy seared runes into the paper.

The dragon's eyes glowed as he literally transferred his arcane power onto the scroll-to-be. His concentration was focused entirely on the task. Success meant that he would advance from Apprentice level to Journeyman in the Arcane Atheneaum. He'd be able to study the sealed Journeyman scrolls and begin learning more advanced techniques. It was required for everyone at the college in the Arcane disciplines to learn to read, memorize, transcribe and seal arcane knowledge to advance to the more difficult techniques in the practical studies.

The lines fused together as the magical energy warmed the paper, but the author regulated the transfer to keep it from ignition. Arcane glow flared at the more complex characters and flickered down at the lesser characters. The transcription was half complete and had been flawless. And-

-BOOM!

The dragon's energy flared at the sudden sound and he lost his concentration. With a flash, the cotton paper darkened and everywhere a glowing rune had been it caught fire. He ceased his transcription and began pounding his palm on the lectern to extinguish the embers. A gray cloud hung over his head, but not from the smoke of the parchment.

When the flames destroyed project was stamped out by his scaled palm, he growled and turned around on the small bench he was sitting on. He saw a moogle with dark goggles on and a very pleased expression on his face standing on top of his bed in the small shared dorm room.

"Faora! Did you see that!?" the moogle exclaimed. "Mercury fulminate! Do you know what this could do?"

"Aside from ruining important projects that require my absolute focus to complete?" Faora sarcastically growled.

"Yeah, yeah. Aside from that," the moogle said, pausing to grin happily. "I can stabilize this mixture and enhance it with an oxidizer. It could completely revolutionize how we control nitrate based explosive powder! Wheellocks and, and, and matchlocks, even punks and fuses. This will change everything! Impact ignition ..."

"Mog, why can't you do these experiments in the Alchemy lab, like all the rest?"

"And let someone steal my idea? No way!" Mog proclaimed and pushed his dark goggles up. "Whoa, produced a lot more smoke than I thought it would."

"I didn't notice," Faora grumbled. "Do you know how much work you just ruined?"

"You could do your projects in the Atheneaum, like everyone else," Mog chuckled.

"I don't know why the Archwizard even allowed Alchemists and Mechanics into the college."

"The integration of Arcania and Engineering is the inevitable conclusion of convergence of knowledge of our civilization," Mog impersonated the raspy voice of the Archwizard. "We must be at the forefront of this integration to maintain our status as the highest institution of learning in the empire." Mog paused and dropped the impression. "Besides, imagine how destructive siege engines could be if we infused our projectiles with magic? Or fortifications reinforced with arcane protection or camouflaging seals?"

"He could have at least built new dorms to house you, so that you are not blowing up the Arcane students' rooms."

"Aw, don't be like that, silly dragon." Mog hopped down from the bed and trotted over to the window. He opened the closed shutters and the cold night air flooded into the room, blowing the candle on Faora's lectern out and scattering the loose parchments and ashes from his project around the room. "Get this smoke out of here. By the way, can I borrow some of your parchments? I want to chemically treat them to make them thin enough to contain this mixture to keep it stable until impact."

"No!" Faora growled and stood up, gathered the loose parchments off the floor and walked out the door. "I miss my quiet room. I hate trying to concentrate in that noisy Atheneaum when I'm trying to focus," the dragon grumbled as he came to the middle of the hall and bound over the banister to drop down to the lobby faster than walking down the stairs.

*

Faora rubbed his eyes as he stood in front of the large desk in the private office of the Master of the Atheneaum. The black panther in a rather plain robe for his station sat behind the desk as he looked the scroll over. His spindly fingers pulled his hood down and revealed the white fur all around his muzzle and his brightly glowing eyes that were permanently illuminated from centuries of channeling magic energy.

"Apprentice Meridian?" he called in a voice that echoed with magical enhancements that held his ancient body together. "Is your state of fatigue the result of boredom, the poor quality of your scroll or is there another problem you would like to discuss?"

"My apologies, Master," Faora said with a little bit of nervousness that he was trying his best to conceal. "There was an ... issue, last night with my dorm-mate. His experiment destroyed my project and I had to start over."

"This is not the first time you have complained about him," the panther paused and smiled. "He will be gone long before you will. Especially if you cannot learn to overcome distractions from your work."

Faora had never openly complained about Mog, but the Masters all knew the minds of the Apprentices since they'd had no training on resisting mental probing from more advanced magi. "Forgive me, Master. I can repeat the project if you wish."

"That will be necessary, since I cannot present this to the Archwizard as proof of your advancement when I make the progress report. However, your execution of the project the first time was flawless, until you lost control. I have no doubt it would have been acceptable. You will have one of the same quality, or better, to me by the end of the week."

"Yes, Master."

"I am going to grant you Journeyman status," he paused and held up the scroll and it flashed out of existence in a blue puff. He stood up from his chair and extended his arm out. There was a small breeze and Faora's eyes glowed momentarily as the ability to open Journeyman seals was transferred to his mind.

"Thank you, Master," Faora said politely.

"Not so fast, Journeyman Meridian. You still failed to complete the project on time, and there must be a penance."

Faora scowled in near uncharacteristic overt annoyance with one of his Masters.

"Now, now, do not allow a minor punishment to interfere with the accomplishment of advancement. It will be an easy task. There are a few scrolls that need categorized and archived. See to it, presently."

"Yes, Master," Faora said before bowing politely then turning to walk out of his office. He sighed aloud as the large door closed behind him, untouched by either of the two magi physically. Faora closed his eyes as a glow surrounded his body and his green robes changed to a shade of blue, the symbol of his new status. He then turned to the front of the Atheneaum where the keeper's desk was.

He walked up to the keeper and looked down at the small raccoon in the tan robe of a Novice sitting on a stool behind the counter. Her eyes were fixed on a small scroll sheet in her lap as she read the list over. She was probably serving a penance as well. The Masters loved to hand out menial tasks as punishments, since most in the Arcane disciplines weren't fond of physical or mental tasks not related to their studies.

"Master Leagus commanded me to archive scrolls," he announced.

"Oh," she said, finally looking up from a parchment in her lap at the dragon. "Um, yes, of course. They're on the carts behind the desk."

Faora looked up over her head and saw four wooden push carts filled to nearly overflowing with magic scrolls. He scowled and looked back down at her. "All of these are uncategorized?"

"I'm afraid so," she replied. "Projects of the senior Journeyman mages for their specialization." She paused as Faora shook his head. "I'm glad you're here. I would have been here all night trying to get these done on top of keeping the desk."

"Oh, but of course," Faora said. "Only _too_happy to help." The raccoon smiled at his sarcastic remark, obviously missing the snark in his tone.

The raccoon nodded then looked back at the carts. "I did get them sorted by section, so that should help. First is elemental, second is illusion, next is spirit and the last," she stopped as she shuddered and turned back to him, "last is blood and necromancy. I'm really glad you're here, I hate even being in that section of the Atheneaum."

"It is a discipline, like any of the others," Faora commented as he walked around the desk and took the handle of the first cart in his paws.

"Maybe so," she said. "Maybe by the time I'm a Journeyman like you, I'll have put the prejudices of the Goddess' teachings behind me. For now, it's still unnerving."

Faora sighed as he pulled the cart out and pushed it toward the shelves in the Hall of Elements.

*

Four hours. Four long hours of sifting through the scrolls, one-by-one that the raccoon had haphazardly stacked on the carts with no semblance of organization other than the broad categories. Four hours of climbing up and down the ladders to reach the shelves in the cavernous Atheneaum halls. Four hours of hearing the raccoon babble on and on each time he had returned to the keeper's desk to swap his empty cart for a full one.

By the time he was sorting the last cart, he knew more about the raccoon's home, family and former religion than he would have ever cared to. He was relieved that when this cart was emptied, he would be able to return to his dorm. His penance was almost paid.

Faora pushed the cart to the middle of the shelves where the arcane knowledge of how to reanimate the corpses of long dead creatures was housed. He picked up one of the scrolls on top as he used his awareness to sense the spell it contained to see where he would be climbing next to stow it. His eyes glowed for a moment then faded with a scowl.

"Binding will is not necromancy or blood magic," he cursed to himself. At least it was the first scroll out of place among the few hundred he had already sorted. The bad news was its proper home was on the opposite end of the Atheneaum.

Faora turned away from the cart to walk it all the way across the library but stopped at the end of the row of shelves. He lifted the scroll in front of him and looked at it curiously. Something felt odd about it, but he couldn't pinpoint it. He closed his eyes as he probed its seal.

He saw the visualization of two Masters in his mind. He recognized them as Master Voltier and Master Amon. They were two of the four Masters that oversaw the Spiritual discipline. They stood in a room he'd never seen in the university as the humble blank parchment sat on a table between them.

Flashes of energy radiated from both their paws and inscribed the scroll. After a few moments, the younger of the two, Amon, placed the highest seal of magic on it that he knew of. Something was different though. The scroll glowed red as the twines of the seal bound around it, then flashed away as if everything had gone perfectly.

But it had not. For some reason, the seal didn't take. Faora could see the runes they'd bound to the paper clearly in his mind. He could_read_ it.

Some of it was beyond his comprehension, but not much. The dragon had made it a point to study ahead of his status any chance he got. This was a spell to bind an apprentice to a master. Not necessarily enslave their will, but bring it in line with the master's.

Faora opened his eyes and looked at the scroll again. Even though stealing a scroll was something he would never normally do, something inside him told him that this was the solution he had been looking for. It was an opportunity that he couldn't pass up. The troublesome moogle would be his dorm-mate for a minimum of another two years. Maybe ...

Faora looked around the hall and saw no others. He reached out with his perception as best he could but sensed no unseen eyes watching him from the tower chambers of the Masters. A small smirk crept over his muzzle as the scroll vanished in a blue puff, tucked away into his own personal space of the ethereal void.

He turned around and walked back to the cart of scrolls with a much better attitude about completing the task so that he could return to the dorm and resolve his roommate issue once and for all.

*

Faora sighed as he stood at the door to his dorm room. He'd been certain his plot to use the scroll hadn't been discovered, thus far. He knew using a Master's scroll would be punished with more than just sorting some scrolls in the Atheneaum, but the Masters never expelled a student for being curious and trying to advance their studies. Just knowing he would be able to study in his room without being constantly interrupted by explosions or steam devices catastrophically failing would make whatever the penance was well worth it.

He pushed the door open and saw the moogle sitting at his desk. The moogle looked up at him briefly then went back to work on the lock of a pistol the likes of which he'd never seen.

"Hi Fae," he greeted as he tightened down a brass screw.

"Hello, moogle," Faora replied as he walked in past him to his lectern.

"I like the new robe," Mog commented. "The blue looks good on you."

"No thanks to you," the dragon said as he sat down on his bench before opening the lectern up and pulling out a blank parchment. He sat it up and locked it in place on with the two sliding wooden tabs at the top. He sighed as he started to clear his mind for the task, and then-

"Hey, watch this!" he heard from behind him.

Faora turned around to see the barrel of the pistol pointed at him, then a bright flash, loud report and a puff of black powder smoke filled the room. The dragon yipped as he felt something hit his scales then slide off him as it fell to the floor.

"You shot me!" the dragon yelled before standing up and facing the moogle, toppling the wooden bench over in the process.

"Don't be silly," Mog said. "It's not loaded. But I just used my mercury fulminate mixture to ignite the world's first impact ignition detonation of gunpowder." The moogle pulled the hammer back on the lock and picked a small splintered piece of copper off the newly designed nipple of the firearm.

"Something hit me," Faora said angrily. "Something you shot out of that hit me."

"It's just the wadding," Mog said as if it was no big deal. "I didn't load any shot or ball into the gun. Relax a bit, Fae Fae." The moogle fanned away the cloud of white smoke that was creeping back toward him as it spread around the room. "I should work on a smokeless powder next."

Faora snarled as he looked down at his feet. There was a wad of crumpled parchment with burn marks on one side that the moogle had used to hold the packed powder in place in the breach.

"Just think, Fae," Mog began, "with this percussion cap and this new lock I made, you can keep the hammer down until you're ready to fire. No risk of exposing a full pan to a lit match, no complex clockwork of a wheellock, and if you kept the muzzle and your powder dry, you could even use it in the rain."

Faora's eyes glowed blue as he lifted his paw at the moogle. The moisture in the room rapidly condensed and floated a few inches from the tips of his claws. When it was about half the size of the small creature, he propelled it through the smoke and it splashed against him. He heard the moogle cry out as the water covered his body.

"Fae!? Dammit, my powder horn was open. You got my new lock soaked."

"Good!" Faora replied. "Maybe you'll stop blowing things up long enough for me to finish this project you've already ruined once."

"Aw, c'mon now," Mog said before he shook his body off and threw droplets of the water all over the room. "This is big. It's important. It could turn siege engines and firearms into something that would be truly devastating. This could put our empire on top of the world for the next thousand years." Mog picked a rag up off his desk and started wiping the pistol down. "Get you mages off the front lines so you can be safe to study your transforming princesses into toads."

Faora grumbled before opening the shutters on the window to let the room vent. He then picked up his bench but didn't sit down. He pulled the parchment off the lectern and put it back inside before he walked over to his bed and plopped down. "Please," he said as he looked toward the moogle, "no more experiments tonight. I just want to get this day behind me."

Mog chuckled as he continued drying off the pistol in his paws.

*

Faora peeked up from his pillow at the sleeping moogle. His quilt rose and fell softly with an occasional quiet snore. The dragon drew in a breath and held it as he eased his own quilt off him and put his feet on the floor. As quietly as he could, he stood up then raised his paw.

With a blue flash, he called the scroll back into the mortal realm. He opened it and looked at the runes. His eyes started to glow as he transferred its power into his mind. The green runes on the paper illuminated for a few moments then went dark, appearing as the dark ink-like curves they were before he started.

Faora closed the scroll and it puffed out of existence again. Drawing on his new arcane knowledge, he brought up the spell in his mind. It felt powerful, but Faora didn't believe it beyond his ability. He cleared his thoughts of everything else, letting the dark room around him fade to black. The floor underneath him vanished and he was alone in the void, save for his target.

He opened his brightly glowing eyes and looked at the moogle sleeping atop the bed he could no longer perceive in his state of intense concentration. Lifting both his paws, the energy surged through his body and leapt from his claw tips to the moogle.

The moogle's body glowed the same green as the runes on the scroll for an instant, then it faded away as the room faded back in from the blackness. Faora's glowing eyes dimmed until they were normal and the entire real world came back into his grasp.

He took a tentative soft step toward the moogle's bed. Looking down at the small hybrid, cocking his head to the side. He couldn't sense anything different about him. A little concerned that he felt no change at all, he focused as he did his best to probe into the thoughts of the sleeping creature.

His limited abilities only allowed him to see blurs at first. One white, one greenish-blue. He focused harder on the two blurs and tried to sharpen them. Then he heard the moogle call his name. It was distant, like an echo.

Faora tried to focus on just the blur of white as shades of pink around it came into view. The moogle's form took shape. The pink sharpened into his wings, the white taking the form of the moogle's body and face. A little red streak bouncing up and down into the sphere of the strange adornment on the moogle's head.

He heard his name again. It was desperate and wanting. He looked up at the moogle's face as the creature was atop him. The red ball on the end of his antenna bouncing up and down. The blur of blue were his arms as he rubbed the moogle's fur in his paws. The mole/bat's green eyes opened and looked directly into his as Mog panted atop him.

"So big," the moogle said. "You feel so good inside me."

Faora blinked as the invasion of the moogle's dream zipped from his perception. He felt his cheeks heat with blush as he looked down at the moogle under the quilt. Mog softly moaned his name again, and Faora turned around and scrambled back into bed.

He laid down and turned his back to the moogle as the after effects of the moogle's subconscious still clung to him. He felt the soft fur of the moogle in his palms, the moogle's thighs straddling him as he bounced up and down, the tight flesh wrapped around his-

Faora sighed and shook his head, still blushing. His loins tingled and his arousal made itself very apparent as his ridged member brushed against the simple loincloth that wrapped his groin. The dragon tried to focus on other things. The project he owed Master Leagus, the saltpeter scent that still hung in the room, the stars peeking between the clouds out of his window.

It wasn't easy, but he finally managed to wrestle himself into a fitful sleep.

*

Faora was pulled from his uneasy rest as a sharp yell echoed in the small room. He threw the covers off and jumped out of the bed with enough grace to flop onto the wooden floorboards, then grumbled. He peeked up over his bed toward the moogle's and saw the small creature standing up in the middle of it looking down at himself.

"It's gone!" Mog cried. "It's not there! What happened to me?"

"Calm down," Faora said as he pulled himself from the floor. "What's gone?"

The moogle turned to face him, completely nude. Faora saw the moogle point between his legs where the moogle's genitals should be. Instead of the moogle's sheath and testicles, he saw a thin pink slit tucked very much in the correct place for a female, but the rest of the moogle's features were still masculine.

"Uh," Faora said and then looked away as he felt himself blushing. "I ... I'm sure that can be corrected. I might be ... able to help."

"One of those damn mages pulled a prank that I'm not finding very amusing," Mog said. "I find out who done this, I'm going to strap so many explosives to his ass that all the levitation magic in the empire couldn't catch him on the way back down."

"Now look, Mog," Foara said as he looked up at the moogle, taking care not to let his eyes fall lower than the moogle's face. "I don't sense any enchantments on you. If it did happen to be a spell, it was obviously a mistake. More likely it's an effect of all those chemicals you play around with."

"You know there's no chemical compound that will instantly turn someone ... into this," Mog said and snarled. "You know ... you ... you," Mog paused as his snarl faded and his muzzle transitioned to a smile. "You have ... beautiful eyes."

"What?" Foara exclaimed as his cheeks burned hot. "My eyes? What are you talking about. We have to get this fixed."

"Your mane, your horns ... those scales. By the gods, you're gorgeous."

"No, that's enough," Faora said, but the moogle jumped down off his bed and climbed up on the dragon's. From his kneeling position, Faora was looking up at him with his pink lips nestled in the white fur above his muzzle. They softly glistened with arousal and the dragon couldn't stop looking at his new pussy.

"Fae ..." Mog said hotly just before reaching down and grabbing the back of the dragon's head.

Foara yipped before his muzzle was pulled against Mog's crotch, butting against the damp nether lips of the new magically half-gendered moogle. The dragon tried to pull away, but something inside of his chest stopped him. He felt the embarrassed warmth in his cheeks spread through his body as it transitioned into giddy warmth.

The scent of the moogle's arousal filled his nostrils. It was a strange but alluring combination masculine musk and feminine arousal. His member slipped from his genital slit and brushed his loincloth as the scent overwhelmed his willpower.

Faora opened his muzzle and slid his long forked tongue up against the soft lips. He heard the moogle yip then murmur and felt his paws grip the back of his head. Faora smiled to himself before he easing his tongue up and pushing the tip of it in the moogle's vaginal canal.

"Fae!" Mog exclaimed as he ground his hips against the dragon. "That's so ... good. So deep. So different."

Faora grunted in agreement as he worked his lengthy tongue up and around inside the the tight passage. He snaked his prehensile muscle around inside of the moogle, brushing every surface, teasing the cervix of the moogle's new womb with his forks. He could feel Mog's walls squeezing against his tongue and could taste his arousal in the quickly moistening passage.

The dragon wasn't sure why he was enjoying it so much. He hadn't felt any overt sexual attraction to the creature before, but something deep in his chest made him want to give the moogle pleasure. There was a lingering concern that the effects of the spell he'd cast on Mog wasn't just a one way binding of will, but the rapidly building desire was overshadowing it.

Faora slowly eased his tongue out of the moogle then lapped between his legs, the forked tip sliding up the cleft of the moogle's rear and teasing the pucker between his cheeks while the base closer to his muzzle brushed over Mog's clit.

The moogle pawed at his horns, rubbing them from the arcing at the top down to the base at the ridges. He was using them to support himself as the simultaneous stimulation of his new feminine entrance and his inborn male one nearly made his legs buckle. The newness of the pleasure in his front and the more familiar pleasure in his back was sending him to levels of ecstasy he never imagined were possible.

Faora was a little surprised when the moogle mechanic suddenly pulled his body away from him and out of reach. He looked up at Mog and blinked as the moogle idly stared skyward with clenched eyes, panting to regain control of his breathing. After a few moments, the small creature looked down at him and smiled as he opened his eyes.

"It feels like you've done that before," Mog said and giggled.

"No," Faora explained. "I have always thought of sexual interaction as distracting, and even repugnant, but ..." Faora looked away as his cheeks heated. "Something inside me makes me want you."

"I know the feeling," Mog said before hopping down off the bed then scurrying around to the side where Faora knelt. "Get off the floor, lay down on your back."

Faora looked at him curiously but the moogle repeated his instruction with a slightly more whiny inflection. Faora rolled his eyes as he rose to his feet then sat down on his bed, lifting his legs up and laying his head on his pillow. He watched the moogle as he climbed up over him and straddled his legs. The moogle's eyes were fixed on his loincloth, which was wrapped around him in a way that it bulged with Faora's pent member pressing against it.

"Need to get this out of the way," Mog said as he lifted his right paw up and his small claws with the sharpness of a mole's extended as he tightened his flexor tendons.

He drew back his paw to swipe at the fabric, but Faora quickly sat up and put his paw on his shoulder to stop him. Mog looked up at him with a pout and the dragon sighed and shook his head. "You take me for some Novice that needs help undressing himself? Please stow those claws and keep them far from my loins."

Faora closed his eyes and in an instant with a small rushing breeze his loincloth phased away. When he opened his eyes, he saw the moogle looking down at his now exposed maleness. The moogle relaxed his paw and Faora watched his muzzle descending toward his erection. Mog paused at the tip as he inhaled his scent, then looked up at Faora with dreamy eyes as if he had just ingested a potent aphrodisiac.

Then the moogle did something that the dragon wasn't expecting at all. His head dipped down past his erect member and pressed muzzle between his cheeks. He looked up to see what the moogle was up to, but felt the moogle's tongue brush against his tailhole.

Faora's head snapped back as he clenched his teeth and gripped the sides of his bed tightly. The moogle's tongue stroked his pucker over and over. The dragon murmured as his eyes rolled up and his arousal twitched. The moogle moved his paw up and rubbed the soft pad from the base of Faora's cock to the tip then back down, teasing the ridges and the glans.

The dragon sighed deeply before gasping sharply as he felt the moogle push his tongue inside of him. Mog's small tongue worked past his muscle ring and against his inner walls. He would lick inside of him as deep as his tongue would allow then pull it back before repeating the process.

"Mog," Faora exclaimed before he started to pant. "You don't ... you don't have to- Ahh! Don't stop." The dragon gasped then let out a long purr. He could feel the moogle's lips smile against his backside at his reaction.

After several minutes of the rimming, Faora was breathless and a writhing mess. His perception of what the moogle was doing was nearly lost, so much that he didn't notice when he stopped. As his sensibilities returned, he opened his eyes and saw the moogle squatting over his erection with the tapered tip lined up with Mog's magically induced body modification.

Mog lowered himself down and the tip slipped past his outer lips and up into the velvety passage. The little moogle gasped at the penetration, and Faora grunted as the moogle's tight muscles squeezed against his glans. Faora had to resist the urge to buck his hips upward for fear that his girth would tear open the comparatively small creature.

However, the moogle seemed not to mind as the dragon stretched him. Faora gasped again as Mog continued his decent. His damp clit sliding over and swallowing his first ridge, then his second. As the moogle lowered to his third ridge, he felt his tip firmly pressed against the moogle's cervix. Faora eased his paws up to the moogle's thighs and held him there, preventing him from going any farther.

"You don't have to hurt yourself on my account," Faora said softly.

"It doesn't hurt," Mog explained, then moaned as he rocked his hips a bit. "No pain at all. It feels wonderful. I want all of you."

Faora blinked in surprise, then grunted as the moogle suddenly stopped supporting himself with his own legs and the third ridge of his cock thrust up into the moogle's body with a lewd slurp. At the same time, Faora's tip pushed past the small opening to the moogle's womb, butting against the back of his uterus.

Mog moaned deeply as his body eased down against the dragon's, the both of them surprised that he could accommodate the dragon's entire length. Faora wasn't able to marvel though as Mog started to lift off until all but the first ridge was outside of him then he lowered back down rapidly.

Faora let out a long moan as the eager moogle started riding him. His paws rubbed over Mog's rear and his hips bucked against the moogle nearly of their own instinctual accord. The moogle's pace was quick, and his body impacted down against Faora's roughly.

"Fae," Mog moaned. "Gods, you don't know how long I've wanted this."

"Longer than I ever suspected," Faora said as he rubbed up the moogle's sides, recalling the dream he'd probed from the moogle earlier in the evening. "I want to try something."

Mog didn't respond other than a soft moan as Faora closed his eyes. He concentrated as hard as he could while the moogle's tightness was distracting him. Slowly, the world around him faded out. He was once again in the black void with nothing but the moogle and himself, all the while Mog happily bouncing on top of him.

He conjured a spell from his memory. Something that he did not think he would be trying in a practical application for many years, if ever. Breeze whipped around the couple as his body glowed with the magical energy, then it started to cover the moogle's body as well.

Mog yipped suddenly as Faora let out a deep groan. The pleasure of the act increased immensely as the dragon felt exactly what the moogle was feeling in his new vagina while still feeling his own pleasure from his member. The moogle in turn was feeling the same effect, only mirrored.

"Fae!" Mog exclaimed at the new sensations, "Gods, that's amazing! You're so big ... I'm so tight, urnf!"

Faora's sultry groan was his response as the emotional and physical link between the two reverberated through them. With the added stimulation, Faora felt his climax quickly approaching. Determined to make the moment last, he summoned all of his will to stave it off.

The moogle knew exactly what he was doing, and the dragon knew the moogle's thoughts about it. Mog wanted it, and started moving his body even faster. It became a battle of willpower between the two as Mog tried his best to push the dragon over while Faora tried to focus on repelling the orgasm. The dragon's will was strong, but the muscles inside the moogle's canal quivered then tightened.

Faora moaned long and loud as waves of the feminine orgasm rocked him equally hard as they did the moogle atop him. The building and flowing nature of the feminine orgasm bled into the final and intense nature of his masculine orgasm.

Faora gripped the moogle's hips tightly and held his body against him as a voluminous spray of his seed flooded the moogle's womb. It spilled out around his shaft as it poured from his cervix, then filled his vaginal canal until it leaked from his labia. And they both felt every last bit of each others' experience as it unfolded.

The little moogle collapsed against the dragon's tummy and nuzzled at the bottom of his chest as he panted. Faora wrapped his arms around the warm, furry creature and snaked his long neck down to give the top of his head an affectionate lick. With his paw on Mog's back, he drew the spirit-link spell out of the moogle and murmured softly as the shared feelings gently eroded away.

With a basic levitation, he lifted from the bed a few inches and used some simple telekinesis to pull his quilt out from under them and up over the two. Mog cooed softly in his arms as his body settled back down on the mattress atop the tight cords of the bed frame.

Thinking back on the will binding spell, he felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He had never tried to force another to bend to his desires before, and even though the result was amazing, he felt he owed the moogle an apology. "Mog?"

"Mmm?" the moogle replied as he kept nuzzling against his chest.

"I cast a spell on you that I am fairly certain caused your transformation."

"Mmm ..." Mog murmured, then kissed his scales. "I felt that, when we were linked like we were."

"I'll go to the Archwizard tomorrow and explain to him. He can fix the botched spell, and I will accept whatever punishment for it that he deems fit."

"It can wait a few days, can't it?" Mog asked sincerely.

"Uh, well, I ... I don't want to risk getting you pregnant. I don't know the full extent of your transformation."

"You'd love little droogles running around, nipping at your ankles," Mog said then giggled softly. "I wonder if I'll lay eggs, like you dragons do."

"I will go to the Archwizard tomorrow," Faora said firmly at the thought of little dragon/moogle hybrids annoying him to no end.

*

Faora paused at the large wooden door at the top of the tallest part of the inner keep. He sighed as he psyched himself for his meeting with the ancient mage just beyond the heavy door. He balled his fist and wrapped his knuckles against the iron-banded plank, and the door creaked open. Faora stepped in under the stone archway.

The door closed behind him as he stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by shelves that held scrolls, tomes and grimoires, many more ancient than the university itself. In front of him was a large desk and a chair, but other than himself, the room was empty.

"Master Ocdor?" he called aloud.

Faora saw the chair slide back from the desk and the air around it vibrate in purples and blacks before the figure of a mouse phased into existence. His black robes were tattered and loose threads hung from it from years of use. His headfur was long and unkempt, and the fur below his chin waved downward before the tips of it stopped near his knees. His eyes were gray with physical blindness, but still held the gaze of one with sharper eyes than a hawk.

"Journyman Meridian," he said in a deep, raspy voice that seemed very out of place for the small stature of the mage. "Your appointment was not scheduled, but I was expecting you."

"Yes, Master," Faora said as he sagged his shoulders a bit, "Yesterday in the Atheneaum, while performing a penance for Master Leagus, I came across a scroll with a master seal that was ... unsealed."

"And you read the scroll, and even used the scroll on another student without his consent."

"I ... Yes, Master," Faora admitted. "There was a side-effect to the spell that I didn't foresee, and-"

"You need the spell reversed," the Archwizard finished for him. "Unfortunately, I cannot reverse the spell at this time."

"Master?"

"You see, Master Leagus has spoken highly of your ability and potential. However, he made mention that your concentration is broken often by your dorm-mate, and the distraction is beginning to affect your performance." The old mouse slowly rose from his chair then chuckled. "So, as you were instructed, you will need to complete your final Apprentice project, but you will have to do so while you have a sizable distraction."

"Master? The ... scroll. It was placed there for me to find?"

"Of course," the Archwizard replied. "It is a spell of my own design. The transformation effects had to be carefully hidden, because you are a clever one. The desire to_steal_ it and use it on the unsuspecting Mechanic had to be woven into the parchment itself. Even the history of the scroll had to be crafted into its enchantment so you would not dismiss a 'mistake' of a Master outright." The Archwizard chuckled again. "The process took me nearly five whole minutes to complete."

"So this is a penance?"

"No, Journeyman. It is a test. Hone your concentration. If you can spirit-link while in coitus, then you can transcribe while an enthusiastic Mechanic experiments."

"But, Master, what about Mog? I can't just leave him with a magically modified body."

"Your dorm-mate genuinely wants to keep his new body for awhile," the Archwizard replied. "Besides, think of how cute your offspring will be." Faora scowled and the old mouse chuckled again. "The effects of the spell will wear off by the end of the week. Not long after your project is due. Until then, enjoy the new bond with your dorm-mate."

Faora shook his head and sighed. He was concerned that the distractions might prove too much for him, given the gusto and dogged determination of the moogle. He saw the old wizard smile as his thoughts were probed. Faora looked at him and nodded softly. "I will complete my project by the end of the week, Master."

"Of course you will. That will be all, Journeyman," the mouse said and Faora turned to walk out of his office. "Oh, and Journeyman?" Faora stopped at the door and looked back at the Archwizard. "Do try and keep the noise down. I sensed that the occupants of the neighboring rooms in the dorm were a little disturbed by the carnal growling."

Faora looked away as his cheeks heated with blush, hastily opening the door and scrambling out as fast as he could. It was going to be a long week. The dragon let himself smile as he started walking down the spiral staircase. "A _very_long week," he said to himself and chuckled. "Transforming toads into princesses, as it were."

Part - 2