The cart rocked as it wound down the path, though the road was smooth and easy. One of the two drivers just chuckled to himself and spurred the horses forward with a whip to their flanks, though the half-orc sitting next to him didn’t seem so confident.

“Are you sure you should be so blasé about this?” he asked, sweat visibly beading on his swamp-dark skin. “Bound or not, we’re transporting a dragon.”

His compatriot, an older gnoll, chuffed out an unimpressed laugh. “At least be precise, lad. We’re transporting a dragon bitch.” At that, the cart lurched as the creature within threw itself at the walls, and he smiled. More than one tooth was missing. “Ooh, feisty. Good. His lordship likes getting them broken in…”

“Lord Faustof is braver than me,” the half-orc said. He tried to settle back but flinched as the cart lurched again. “Once I get this gold, I’m as good as gone…”

“Oh, don’t be so excitable,” the gnoll replied. “I’ve worked for him for many a year. He always pays well for people to transport new acquisitions to his menagerie, and besides—you weren’t there when she was sold, but I was. They’ve got her nice and muzzled, and she even comes with an enchanted collar to keep that fiery breath down.”

That did seem to ease the half-orc’s worries at least a little bit. “What’s he got in mind for her, I wonder?” he asked aloud.

“Wouldn’t say,” the gnoll replied easily. “Though apparently she was in high demand. Faustof paid good coin for her, yes sirree—and most of the bidders had one thing in mind for her. They say a dragon bitch can be bred by anything, you know.”

The cart lurched again, the hardest one yet, but despite the young half-orc’s frightened yelp, there was no real danger of it tipping over. The gnoll just grinned his toothless grin and whipped the horses even farther.

---

She tried to hiss when they opened the door to her cage, but that damn muzzle they had locked about her mouth made any sort of communication hard. The collar—a thing of brass with glowing gems worked into it—settled uncomfortably against her neck. It was cold in a quiet, sullen way, as if leeching some of her inner heat, and so long as it was locked around her, she had no chance of loosing her fire. She’d tried to pry it off on her own time, but whenever she tried to move it, the collar clasped vice-like around her flesh. Without some outside wizardry, it wouldn’t budge.

Her name was Imay of the Pyre—or just Imay. Once upon a time, she had been a human sorcerer of unquenchable might and ambition. But the gods didn’t like uppity mortals, and one draconic deity had punished—or “blessed,” as the god himself had insisted—her with this new form.

Now she was quadrupedal, scaled, her hide a dusky red with two white horns sprouting up top. Her curse had left her a shell of a ‘real’ dragon; she was much smaller than normal, about the same size as a warhorse, and even wingless.

Imay was cognizant of what she’d lost. She always would be. Her old shape… the ability to walk on two legs… even her magic had largely deserted her, though she was left the ability to smelt metal in her fierce fire. But now, the accursed collar about her neck had stolen even that from her.

And so here she was, captured and chained, purchased by some noble like she was livestock to be traded. But she would show them. She was no mere beast—not even a dragon! She had once caught the attention of the divine, and they would learn to fear her.

The lord’s men tried to coax, and then force, Imay out of her cage, but she was recalcitrant. Let them muzzle her and steal her fire. She could still rend them in two with her claws—if any dared approach!

Eventually, however, men showed up with lances and other long weapons with which to worry and poke at her from a safe distance. She bore their annoyances at first, but on seeing them coat one of the lance-tips with a glistening mixture that smelled vaguely of acid, she slunk out, recognizing that this would be a losing proposition. Still, she memorized the man’s face. Before she left, she would enjoy crushing his spine.

Having spent the entire trip caged in the dark confines of the cage within the cart, the sudden blaze of light made her wince. As her eyes readjusted to the glow, Imay caught sight of Faustof’s estate. It was, in a word, impressive. She grudgingly admired the long sweep of hills with the small brook running between them, the healthy orchards beyond, the manor with stately walls of old brick. She could read at a glance that this Faustof was connected, the sort of title that came with secure wealth and influence to whisper in far-off ears. She had associated with men such as this in her old life; she knew how to play them.

Faustof would regret treating her like some base beast. She would play him like a fiddle and burn everything around her.

The men warily set chains to her manacles and muzzle, and Imay let herself be led across the estate. Her steps were short and shallow thanks to the shackles, and she eyed her captors sullenly. If she could just figure out a way to get that damned collar off…

Before long she was taken around back and saw to her disgust that they were leading her to the stables. So they insisted on treating her as a beast? Didn’t they realize intelligence when they saw it? Oh, they had it coming and then some. She downright smoldered with anticipation at the thought of what she was going to do to them.

The men transporting her paused as a balcony on the estate’s third floor opened. A rake-thin, middle-aged man with a tight moustache and fading blond hair that was starting to disappear at the temples stepped out. There was no doubt this was Faustof.

Imay glared at him, fixing her eyes. Did he think he could get away with this? Didn’t he know it was foolish to tempt the wrath of a sorcerer?

Faustof held up a goblet and took a lazy sip. “Rather scrawny for a dragon, isn’t she,” he quipped drolly after lowering it from his lips. His men fell into light chuckles, some of the tension diffusing. “Still, I suppose that’s why they were able to get her captured in the first place—and I doubt that it’ll change the famed dragon fertility.” He sipped again and met her eyes. “Oh my, she’s unhappy. Alas, little lizard, your life is mine now, as is your womb. That’s what it means to be my property. You understand that, yes? You belong to me. You’re not even a slave; slaves are humanoids. Slaves can be freed. You… you’re just an animal. Like a pet, but even lower.” The corner of his mouth twitched up in a smirk. “So you should be happy I’m putting you to rut. Isn’t that all that you dumb beasts think about, food and fucking? You’ll find both here, to be sure.” At a nod, the men began corralling her into the stable again. Faustof’s voice could be heard: “Go find Ghern and tell him we have his mate.”

The stable was currently empty, save for a breeding bench. Imay had known all along what they’d had in mind for her, but seeing it just made it more real than ever. She shook her head and stamped her paws against the ground as best she could with the iron shackling her, but in the end, there were too many men. Prodded and dragged, she was forced onto the breeding bench. It was a spartan thing of dark wood, clearly not designed with comfort in mind; it forced her legs apart, showing off her reptilian slit to the world—and she blushed with anger at the way her captors hooted with interest at the sight. They clasped iron manacles about her limbs and hitched her tail over her head, keeping it from interfering. As the manacles snapped shut, Imay felt her body shudder with weariness; like the collar, these were worked with enchantment, it seemed, and sapped her energy with a touch.

Faustof’s men busied themselves about her, getting ready for the arrival of this Ghern, and paying no heed whatsoever to her despite the low angry growl that she forced out and the way her eyes followed them.

They were treating her like she was some dumb animal…

After a few minutes, a sound alit from outside, and the men chattered nervously. “We’ll, uh, leave you two to it,” one of them said lamely before taking his leave. Imay didn’t have that much time to ponder what he’d said. A shadow filled the stable from behind.

She wanted to turn and look to see this Ghern, but even her head was locked in, so she could only sit there, breathing angrily, as the sound of something large approached. The shadow grew, and Imay tensed as she imagined him just taking her right then and there—but he moved past her and into her sight.

He was a gryphon. Average for his species, so slightly larger than her; his lion half was a soft tan, his bird half a low white speckled with grey, an eagle’s curved beak sitting beneath two keen eyes. He surveyed her with interest.

She hissed. He shamelessly sported an erection.

“Almost didn’t believe them when they said they purchased a dragon bitch,” he said. His voice was ever-so-slightly raspy, as if he’d been wandering without water. He circled around her, leaving her sight again, and to her disgust she could see dark spots on the stable floor where his precum had dripped down. “The master has long talked about finding me a mate, but I always thought it would be another gryphon… not that I’m complaining.” He circled back into view once again and reached out to stroke her chin, his talons gliding smoothly over her scales. Imay tried to shake her head but there was nothing she could do. “Maybe under different circumstances we could take things a bit slower, but the master wants you bred soon. So I guess we’ll be starting things off quickly.”

Glaring at him, Imay expected Ghern to walk back and mount her, but to her surprise, the talons reached out and, with surprising dexterity, unclasped her muzzle. As the bondage fell from her, the dragoness opened her mouth in a surprised gasp, gulping down air—and then she lunged at him, fangs snapping, fire sparking in her throat—

But muzzled or not, she was still clasped tight in the breeding bench’s manacles, and the collar ached around her neck, the cold seeping into her as her fire died. Ghern looked at her with a sort of dry amusement.

“And here I thought I’d play nice so we could get to know each other,” he said. “We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, so it behooves us to get along… well, the master always breaks them down eventually. If you’re smart, you’ll give in quick. He rewards you if you do.”

“Don’t you have any shame?” she snarled at him. “You’re really content to be kept?”

He chuckled again, voice gravelly. “Why shouldn’t I be? I was like you, once. I thought that just being able to talk and know my own name meant I was a person. But after I was captured, the master helped me see things different. After all, can’t any dumb hound be trained to know its own name? Don’t parrots talk? Yet we don’t think they’re people, do we?” He smiled. “Once you accept you’re a beast, life becomes so much better. You’re cared for and fed, provided lush lands to explore. You don’t need to worry about a thing. The master provides. We’re lesser than the slaves, yet in many ways, our existence is better… after all, we can sate our basest urges without hesitation.”

Ghern vanished again, stalking about her, and Imay yelped as she felt his weight settle. He was lighter than she’d expected—his bird half, perhaps—but still large enough that she suspected that he could keep her pinned even without the help of the bench and manacles.

Something tickled the outer edges of her slit and she tried to worm away.

“Get off of me,” she snarled. “You bastard! You’ll regret this!”

“The master has commanded us to sire young,” Ghern said. He made it sound like an inexorable fact of life, talking about it the way he might mention the sun rising. “So we are going to do that. Really—hmmm, what’s your name?”

“Fuck you,” she spat, her words sliding into a desperate moan as Ghern began sawing his hips back and forth. His cock rubbed maddeningly against her slit.

“I’m not the bad guy,” he said. “I’m in the same position you are. Actually, there’s no bad guy. We’re both beasts, and the sooner you learn to accept it, the better. Creatures like us, we’re made to be leashed and collared and follow commands. If that means strutting for visiting nobility, so be it. If it means eating from a dish, so be it.” He leaned forward and his foremost talon settled between Imay’s horns, pressing her head down. She was forced to look at the dusty stable floor, still seeing the spots from the gryphon’s precum congealing underneath it.

“And,” he pressed, voice low, “if that means fucking another beast full of young, then so be it.”

Imay’s breath was labored. Between the manacles and Ghern’s weight pressing down on her, she was completely helpless. She almost wanted to laugh. She was stuck in this stupid false body, with people thinking she was a beast—yet the one thing her new shape was good for, physical might, was worthless here.

Fuck this new body. Fuck its difficulty in wearing clothes, in the way it made people look at her as a monster or worse, and fuck the way it could be bred by anything.

Because she could feel it. As Ghern kept sawing his cock back and forth, rubbing against her sex, she could feel the fire burning inside of her; Imay could wordlessly, innately sense that she was fertile, that anything that fucked her—man, gryphon, hound, horse, anything—would find her fruitful ground to plant its seeds.

And the thought of swelling with bestial offspring was the greatest indignity of all.

“I’m not… a beast…” she protested desperately.

A rolling laugh rumbled through Ghern, something Imay could feel thanks to how the gryphon pressed on her. His talon was still on her head. “So you say,” he replied. “Yet you won’t even give me your name. You know what else don’t have names?” And suddenly, ferociously, he plunged into her, the suddenness of the intrusion filling the dragoness with pain and fire and violation that made her rattle pitifully against her manacles. She howled in despair.

“Dumb fucking animals,” the gryphon said in answer to his own question.

And then he rutted her without abandon.

Ghern was big enough and strong enough that every forceful thrust shook the breeding bench. Imay whined as she was taken, his spire spreading her wide and making her innermost recesses ache. Worst still was that his cock was from the lion’s part of his body and boasted a lion’s effects: barbs, each of them dragging maddeningly down her walls and making her burn as they bit along her as they dragged out.

“P-Please,” she whimpered. Her voice was raspy; the small part of her that wasn’t focused on desperately stopping this violation was stunned at how pathetic she sounded. “Please… stop this…”

Ghern bucked his hips immensely hard, the suddenness of having him hilt in her forcing the breath from Imay’s lungs. Her words died in a wheeze.

“It’s what the master wants,” Ghern repeated, and he dragged his cock out and she whined as the barbs gnawed at her. “Learn to accept that what he wants, goes. You’ll be happier for it. Much happier.” He bucked in again, the hardest yet, and her legs buckled. She would have collapsed if not for the breeding bench holding her up.

Ghern’s other talon, the one that wasn’t holding her head down, reached forward and with almost dulcet tenderness wiped the tears from her cheeks. Imay hadn’t even realized she was crying. “Little thing,” he said, his voice soothing. He slowed his pace just so, and Imay whined with relief as his breakneck fucking died down into a slow pulse. “I really wish you would just let me help you. We’re in the same boat. I could help you ease into this new life… we could get along wonderfully, you and I…”

He slid in slow and tender, and Imay trembled as he hilted again and held there. “I’m not… a beast…” she protested, still weeping. “I’m not… a dragon…”

The talon that had wiped her tears now caressed her cheek tenderly, like a lover. “Silly thing. Of course you are. I know it’s frustrating, but you just need to accept it.”

Imay thought about protesting, about saying that she was a human, that this damn shape was a lie forced on her by the gods, and it wasn’t fair how everything had changed for her, but instead she only managed to force out: “I d-don’t want… to have monstrous babies…”

“Ahhhh, so that’s it.” Ghern resumed rutting and Imay quivered. “Well, I’m afraid you don’t have a choice. Not even because the master ordered it, oh no. But because you’re a dragon bitch. You’re made for breeding. You’ll bear the offspring of anything that plows you, won’t you?” He slid out and the barbs made her wince. “And besides,” the gryphon continued, “we both know that’s a lie. You’re enjoying this.”

“No…”

“Don’t lie to me or yourself,” he replied, bucking into her again. “We’re animals, after all. We have senses they don’t. Smell… oh yes, I can smell the pheromones in you. The pleasure. Your body needs this.”

Imay hated him for saying it, because it was true. After the initial pain and bite of having him force himself into her, it had ebbed and then mixed with pleasure. The kernel of fire that had kindled in her loins was started to burn brighter. Her body recognized that it was being bred and it craved it desperately, and it was rewarding her with wave after wave of pleasure that was overpowering the pain.

And she hated it.

“Let’s make all of us happy,” Ghern insisted. “Me, the master, and that needy body of yours.” And with that, he picked up the pace again, bucking into her relentlessly, and Imay couldn’t stop her tunnel from clenching and fluttering about him, couldn’t stop the orgasm from cresting, and when she came despite herself, squeezing tight around his member, he patted the side of her head. “There’s a good girl,” he told her. “I knew you’d come around.”

Less than two minutes later, he’d slammed into her, holding tight as he filled her with seed, and Imay instantly knew that she was knocked up.

Mother to beasts.

---

After Ghern had departed, she’d expected Faustof’s men to come in and unshackle her, lead her away, take her to the noble—to do something. But she was left there on the breeding bench as dusk faded into evening, left overnight—sore and aching, muscles and joints crying out, her draconic pussy leaking gryphon seed. She shuddered as she felt it trickle down her back leg.

Alone with her thoughts, she turned over idea after idea in her head. She considered what she would do to Ghern. To Faustof. To everyone here. She would hunt down that gnoll and his half-orc partner, too.

She also thought about the life that was growing in her belly. She couldn’t put words to it, but she felt different. Mere hours after her breeding and she could feel the change. She dreaded it. She toyed with the idea of finding herbs to force it to terminate while it was still early. But they didn’t grow in this part of the continent…

In the deep hours, where the dividing line between night and morning was hazy, her weary brain rocked, just coming back to the same thought over and over again: Not a beast. Not, not, not…

The following morning, Faustof’s men finally came for her. She snarled at them to get back and they laughed at how she could speak before hitching chains around her collar and manacles again. Only then did they unclasp her from the breeding bench.

She nearly collapsed, but they prodded her on with lances, safely out of reach. When Imay even so much as thought about setting her fire loose, the collar’s cold nipped at her.

They led her into a building adjoining the stables nearby; when she entered, she immediately reeled back, or tried to. The man in there was holding a glowing brand worked into what looked like a noble’s seal—but seemingly not wanting to try heat against a dragoness, it instead glowed with enchantment, the metal a vivid color that rimed the very air around it into frost. The man approached her, holding the brand out. “Get back!” she screamed. The men all ignored her. “Back!”

But they did not get back, and the searing cold of the enchanted brand was even worse than Ghern’s first intrusion had been.

Her thigh aching from where she’d been marked as Faustof’s property, Imay was finally unshackled from the men’s chains and leashes, though she remained collared and manacled. They wandered away, leaving her alone and sprawled out on the floor.

She passed out—at least, she thought she did. It was actually difficult to tell. Her whole body was weary, and her mind hazy. After some time—an hour? Two? She couldn’t say—she managed to force herself to rise. The going was slow, thanks to both her weariness and the manacles still hobbling her pace, but she stepped outside.

It was a lovely day: temperate, the sky broomed with clouds, the gentlest of breezes drifting across. The distant pines of Faustof’s estate swayed gently in the wind.

The distant pines… and no one was around.

Could it really be that easy?

Imay thought for a moment about how running would be a coward’s way, about how she would be forgoing her vengeance. She shook the thoughts from her head. No, that wasn’t right. She had to leave now, stop herself from carrying that damn gryphon’s offspring, and get herself free from that collar and manacles. Then she could prepare to wreak vengeance when they least expected it.

She wasn’t casting aside her revenge. Just delaying it a little bit.

Moving as fast as she could, she hobbled away from the manor and its accompanying building, across the fields and into the forest.

It was maddeningly slow going. She could take half-steps at best thanks to the manacles, and her thigh burned from the brand; her whole body was weary from last night’s fucking.

But she didn’t stop. Every time she did, she imagined herself caught while resting, dragged back in chains, and then her belly slowly starting to round out with Ghern’s offspring.

No, there would be time for rest later. She pushed on. And on.

She didn’t know how far she’d made it. A few miles, perhaps? She’d been traveling for some hours. Distant wingbeats met her ears and she tried to make her way out of sight, but inevitably, a shadow swooped down over her. Ghern touched down a few paces away.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” he said easily, as if he were discussing the weather. The gryphon rested on his haunches, crossing his talons in front of him in a way that betrayed his feline nature. “That collar does more than kill your fire. If you try to leave the master’s grounds or force your way into the manor, you’ll find yourself growing sick… so sick, you won’t be able to move.” He shrugged. “The master gave you free rein to explore his grounds. It’s a gesture of good faith, if you ask me. Technically, you’re still within bounds, so there’s no reason to punish you. But if you betray that trust by pushing farther, he might just lock you up again. And worse.”

“Fuck off,” Imay snarled.

Ghern just raised an eyebrow. His lion’s tail swished behind him. “I can see you’ve been branded, too. Funny, for me it was just a tattoo.” He rose and lifted a leg, showing Imay a dark mark on the inside of his thigh. She hadn’t noticed it yesterday. “Guess he was worried ink wouldn’t show through scales.” He stepped towards her. “Quit this nonsense. Let’s go back.”

“Take another step at me and you’ll regret it!” Imay snarled, baring her fangs and stamping her claws. Fire dead or not, manacles shackling her or not, the one good thing about this body was that people feared it!

Ghern paused for a moment, and then his eyes narrowed, tail swishing fiercely. Suddenly, he spread his wings to their fullest extent, their length dwarfing Imay. He flashed his talons in the morning light and unleashed a wordless, piercing, downright feral scream from his wicked beak.

“So it’s might makes right, is it?” he said as a challenge. “Fitting. You say you’re not a beast, but that’s just how animals like us solve things, right? You’re settling into your new role quite nicely.”

Imay wasn’t even certain if he meant it as a barb, but she didn’t back down—though she was increasingly aware that Ghern was no humanoid who was easily intimidated by her, worry nettling her heart. “There’s no role,” she said. “I’m not this bastard’s pet.”

“You are, and more than that,” Ghern said. “You’re my mate, and the mother of my children.” He took a step forward, and then another. “And I won’t see you invite the master’s wrath, endangering our clutch, because of your silly refusal to accept the way things are.”

At the reminder of last night’s debasement, Imay snarled again, fury consuming apprehension. “Fuck off, bird,” she spat. “I’m not your mate.”

“The master says you are, so you are.” Ghern took another step forward and Imay took one back despite herself, manacles clanking as she moved. “Actually, no, forget the master for a moment. You and I are beasts, and you may say you don’t accept that, but your behavior is quite beastlike. And when a male in the wild wants a mate, what does he do? Claim her. And if she doesn’t want to be claimed, she fights him off.” His haunches lowered, readying for a feline pounce. “So fight me off, then, bitch!”

He lunged, and it wasn’t much of a fight. Even had Imay not been shackled or stinging with a recent brand, she suspected that Ghern could have taken her. He was bigger than she was, more practiced, and while she did get a few good bites and scratches in, in the end, he was simply too much for her. She had never missed her fire more keenly than in that moment.

(And in the deepest recesses of her heart, Imay reflected that Ghern was going easy on her, clearly sparing her belly and trying to stay away from her brand. In his own twisted way, he was caring for his ‘mate.’ And the knowledge that he still trounced her while holding back stung all the more.)

In the end, Imay was left on her back, bruised and prone, and Ghern loomed over her, and she saw to her distress that his feline cock was on full mast once again, pre dribbling out of it.

“W-wait,” she said. “What are you doing?”

“Didn’t I just tell you?” he purred. “Claiming my mate.” He sunk in and she moaned, hating the fact that her body burned with bliss at his intrusion. “It’s okay,” he said, voice low, bringing his beak close to her ear. She momentarily thought about snapping at him but knew that it would just result in another beating. “I know it’s hard. It’s a scary new role you have to play. But I’m here to help you. The master loves me. I’m his favorite pet. I can go anywhere, do almost anything.” He bucked in her, hilting, and she moaned despite herself. “So don’t worry; I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you. I won’t let him hurt you.” He slammed in her again and she hated how much she loved this, how her body ached to be bred. “I’ll save you from all your troubles, even yourself.” He slammed home, pumping in and out of her a few times before sighing with relief as he filled her with seed. “You won’t need to worry about a thing other than swelling up with our clutch and being a good mate, okay?”

Imay leaned back wearily, post-coital shudders wracking over her, staring up at the sky, wondering how it had come to this. Ghern was still inside of her, slowly deflating; the gryphon had cuddled up to her. She didn’t cuddle back. She refused.

But she didn’t try to shake him off, either.

---

After they’d recuperated, Imay sullenly let Ghern lead her back to the estate. The gryphon tried to ply her with conversation all the while, asking what she liked, how excited she was to be a mother, what her name was. She refused to answer, keeping her head low and dragging her tail on the ground.

Ghern didn’t seem to mind. “It’s alright,” he said airily. “We have the whole rest of our lives to get you hammered out. Once you accept it, I think you’re going to like it here.”

Imay clung to her hatred of him, telling herself that she would just bide her time, figure out how to escape, how to undo the collar and it’s enchantments. Then she would torch the manor and everyone in it, rip out Ghern’s throat while he slept. She was still a sorcerer, deep down. They couldn’t take that from her. They couldn’t. She just needed… some time to figure it out.

Back in the estate, the various workers and stablehands laughed behind their hands and pointed as she and Ghern emerged from the treeline, the bruises and marks from their tussle telling all the story they needed. Imay snarled at them and was pleased when most of them scattered.

“Easy,” Ghern said. “It’s always good to remind them to fear you, but remember that they’re our master’s employees too, and he’ll be quite cross if you damage them.”

“Shut up,” Imay snarled.

“He can be very harsh to the deserving,” Ghern said sternly. “I will stop you if you’re empty-headed enough to provoke his wrath, just like I did in the forest.”

Imay keenly felt the aches from their fight, and she stared angrily down at her paws. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t supposed to be her.

She felt Ghern’s presence before he sidled up to her, rubbing his side against her. “Eeeeeeeasy,” he said. “Just take it soft. I only do it because I care.”

Ghern showed her around the estate, pointing out the brook, the hills, and how Faustof kept two herds: prize cattle for himself (these they weren’t to touch) and a smaller, scrawnier herd for Ghern—and now Imay—to sate their hunter’s instincts. “Just don’t go crazy,” Ghern said with a chuckle. “No more than one every other week. They’re cheap, but they do cost to replace.”

Imay snorted. “I’m not going to bloody my mouth eating raw animal like some… creature.”

Ghern carried on, ignoring her entirely. “Though perhaps I can entreat the master to make an allowance for you. You’ll need to eat more than usual to nourish our young, after all.”

Eventually he led her back to the stable where she’d first been bred. Her heart spiked at the remembrance, and she found herself terrified she’d be strapped in again—but the breeding bench was absent entirely, replaced with two troughs, one filled with pristine water and the other with food, as well as a large pile of straw that Imay realized with indignation was supposed to be her bed. A large standing mirror, the sort that noblewomen kept in dressing rooms, was propped in the corner. It was well-made and spotless, though not ornate—the girding was simple copper.

“I thought you might like it, so I asked the master to put it in,” Ghern said airily. “Do be careful.” As he explained that his own stable was nearby and that they were being kept separate, Imay just stared at her reflection. A dragoness—red-scaled, tailed, horned, her body bruised and torn, a fresh brand on her thigh, naked but for the collar and manacles that kept her docile—stared back at her.

She had avoided reflections since her transformation for a reason. It had been easy. Mirrors weren’t often found in the wild, and she didn’t approach still lakes or ponds.

But now it was right here on display for her. The creature standing in the mirror was everything she didn’t want to be, everything she wasn’t, indisputably a—a—

A beast, her mind supplied and then immediately banished in a panic, but the echo remained, even more inhibiting than the metal about her wrists or killing her fire, marking her fiercer than the brand, even weighing on her more heavily than the clutch which was even now developing in her womb. A beast, a beast, a beast.

Imay felt a sudden urge to lunge at the mirror, unleash her fury on it, smash it into a million pieces, then smash the pieces into even smaller ones—pound it until it was nothing but warped metal and fine powder, and if anything reflected from the fragments, it would be small and distorted enough that she could pretend that it was human.

If she hadn’t been manacled, she might have. But her leap lurched into a stumbling half-step and Ghern paused and looked at her, and for a moment, Imay wanted to just rush it and do it anyway.

But Faustof will punish me if I break it. And Ghern will stop me from doing something that will get me punished. And I can’t stop Ghern. For a moment she felt like smashing the mirror anyways, damn the consequences. But the damage from her recent loss to the gryphon still ached, and she succumbed.

“Get rid of the mirror,” she muttered to Ghern.

He cocked his head. “What?”

“Have them take it out. I don’t want it. I don’t like it.”

He swished his tail. “A gift from our master shouldn’t be easily spurned.”

She felt like crying. She couldn’t stand to look at the beast in the reflection any longer. Swallowing her pride, she whispered: “Please, Ghern.”

He paused, and then sauntered out of the stable to find a worker to remove the mirror. And was it just her, or was that the hint of a victorious, scheming smile to his beak?

While he was away, Imay suddenly realized how desperately hungry and thirsty she was. Hobbling over to the troughs, ignoring both the reflection staring at her and the fact that this was how animals ate, she dipped her head in, first lapping up water and then gulping down food. By the time she was finished, some of Lord Faustof’s men had entered and taken away the mirror.

Imay flopped down on the pile of straw, weary, and ignored Ghern’s attempts to continue showing her the estate. The gryphon didn’t push. She had the night to herself. She stayed inside her stable for most of the following day, hatching up revenge schemes as vicious as they were impractical. That night, Ghern visited her stable, and though she tried to fight him off, her attempt was even more half-hearted than the last.

And so it went.

Days bled into weeks, and as she’d expected, Imay noted with some trepidation that her tummy was starting to round out, the weight of eggs settling within. She lazed about the estate, and was sometimes shown off by Faustof to visiting nobles—and not keen to let his prize ruin the moment with her mouthiness, she was frequently chained and muzzled when he did so. Standing there, gravid and chained, as her ‘owner’ talked about her like a piece of meat, was just one more indignity.

The one silver lining she had hoped for—that Ghern would no longer force himself on her once she was pregnant—was shattered when she realized that if anything, the gryphon preferred her like that. Early on, he would come for her once or twice a week. By the end of pregnancy, however, she was being visited nightly.

Eventually, laying day arrived.

Round-bellied, miserable, Imay settled in. The scant upside was that her clutch would come simple and easy, smooth-shelled as they were. She panted with exertion as she squeezed them out, one after another.

Ghern was there, watching the whole thing unfold with eagerness, pacing excitedly about the swiftly-growing pile of eggs.

“I think I love you,” he said.

His words settled like poison on the dragoness and she grunted with exertion as she squeezed out another one. “Damn you,” she panted between layings. “Damn y—hmmghl, hmrk?” Weary and focused on laying, Imay had failed to notice that Ghern was erect and ready—and apparently unable to contain his excitement, the gryphon was now fucking her face.

Imay grunted in protest, her voice muffled; she thrashed her tail uselessly against the floor as Ghern gripped her horns with his talons, furiously fucking her throat. She almost gagged from the sensation.

And oh gods… she could feel more eggs coming.

There was no way she could even attempt to fight off Ghern while still laying. And so she whimpered, tears trickling down her eyes, the gryphon who treated her like a trophy mercilessly rawing her throat even as she devoted everything she could to squeezing out the eggs he had forced her to carry. Finally, with a pile over a dozen strong glistening with her juices, Ghern hilted in her, and Imay shuddered as her throat involuntarily gulped down his cum. As she felt it settle in her, she laid on the floor as Ghern slid out, her vision reeling from exertion, her cunt sore and her throat raw. Ghern was conversing with Faustof, who was speaking encouragingly about his ‘new clutch’ and praising the gryphon for his fertility.

To either of them, she might as well have not been there.

Faustof sold most of the eggs, which Imay didn’t mind. She had no care or affection to children forced on her. She wished to put the whole ordeal behind her. Now that she was no longer gravid, she could resume scheming her escape.

But it was foolish to think that Faustof—and Ghern, for that matter—only had one clutch in mind. The gryphon continued to eagerly use her, and her belly inevitably swelled up—and she squeezed out another clutch. And then it happened again.

And again.

Imay never surrendered. That’s what she told herself at night, her cunt raw and sore from Ghern’s barbs, which still stung and bit at her. She had never given in. Ghern still sometimes asked for her name but she never told it to him. Faustof still had to keep her muzzled when showing her off or she’d launch into a tirade. Those were things she could think of at night and feel something vaguely akin to pride, even as her belly swelled with yet another clutch.

Shortly after her first laying, they’d stopped bothering with the manacles. Like Ghern, she could now move unimpeded, save for the effect which the collar had on her, keeping her tethered to Faustof’s land. She’d tested this and still couldn’t find a way around it. The biting cold around her neck had become second nature to the point where she sometimes forgot it existed. She could scarcely remember what it was like to call fire.

But she was simply biding her time, or so she told herself. She hadn’t given up on revenge. They hadn’t broken her. They hadn’t! She was just waiting for the right opportunity to come along. And then they’d see. They’d all see. They’d regret treating her like a dumb beast.

She thought that over and over to herself as the gryphon fucked her day after day, as her womb grew heavier and heavier with eggs uncountable, as she was quickly reduced to yet another one of Faustof’s fertile breeding pets. She never stopped thinking it.

But yet, she never really stopped squeezing out eggs, either.