Office Party Vignette 3: 
The Kobold and the Dragon
The incense pervaded the grand hall, its tendrils twisting through the air like serpentine dancers. A handsome young man, clothed in the simple ochre robes of a monk, hesitated at the threshold. Even amidst the chorus of laughter and the clinking of fine glassware, he could detect the presence of trickery and subterfuge. The entire building resonated with a magical hue, a buzz that poured out from the packages on the table and shimmered in the ornate rounded mirrors that adorned the walls on the outer perimeter. This was the CharnCo company holiday party, and there was no doubt some mischief afoot. 


His sandaled feet whispered across the marble floor, muted amidst the decadent symphony of Charn DeLarue's soiree. It was an opulent affair, where the fantastic and the surreal blended together with canapes and champagne. The host prowled among his guests with a predatory grace that belied his warm smile. The monk held eye contact with the tiger, until the striped feline glanced his way, and smiled in amusement. 


The monk's name tag read, simply, "Fizz", and Fizz's heart thrummed in his chest, echoing the steady drum of his mission. He needed to reclaim what was rightfully his, what had been his for uncountable years, and which he now wanted back. The feline mosied over to the monk, but with the slow, petulant pace of a housecat that was being offered an open door. Fizz canted his head, slightly to the side. If the feline was taking his time, it meant that he wasn't quite sure what Fizz was planning. He smiled, slowly, and broke eye contact. Let the cat come, at his leisure. 


Fizz had all the time in the world.


The monk's gaze drifted over the assemblage, moving from exotic guest to exotic guest, some bedazzled with multitudinous jewels, others adorned with drab, cultural sashes. A couple wore the plain uniforms of the company that was throwing this event, and they seemed the most alien of all; whispering and clinging together in small, tight cliques.  Finally, his gaze alighted upon a kobold, whose scales shimmered like burnished copper under the chandeliers' glow.


"Greetings, venerable one," the kobold said, and the monk could see the name "CHIEF" scrawled carefully on a rumpled nametag on his chief. His voice was gravelly, but earnest, which the monk could appreciate. The kobold did an awkward bow, and Fizz could tell that it took effort for the kobold not to prostrate himself on the floor.


"Peace be upon you, young seeker,"Fizz replied, his own voice slow and careful. He was not used to such small, tight, high pitched vocal cords. "It seems fate has guided your steps to this place."


"Yes," Chief said, his eyes bearing the weariness of long travels and a righteous, fervent purpose. "I am on a quest of great import. I must recover my chief's lost treasure from the clutches of a foul demon."


"Oh?" Fizz inclined his head, furrowing his brow thoughtfully. "A noble endeavor, but..." And he pointed to the kobold's nametag. "Are you not already 'the chief' of your tribe?"


"I, uh," Chief stammered, looking down at his nametag, brow furrowed. "Yes, of course I am, I am the best chief, of the biggest clan!"


"Oh, yes, of course. What clan are you the chief of? Perhaps I've heard of them," Fizz said, as he looked past the kobold, scanning for the presence of the tiger. The feline seemed to have vanished, however. 


"Uhhhhh... I am the chief of ... Clan Skaletail!" The kobold perked up as he said the words out loud, hopping up once in excitement. He threw his arms out, and with his entire chest, bellowed out, "THE SCOURGE OF THE VALLEY!"


That reclaimed Fizz's attention, and he gave the kobold an admiring nod for his performance. "Ah, yes, there are stories told of your clan, far and wide." The monk gestured around the party, to the alien personages from all forms of realms and universes. "I've even heard whispers about the ferocity of your clan mates, even here. For you to have come all the way here, to restore your chief's honor, must be quite the adventure. Your success will surely carve your name into the legends of your tribe."


"More than that," Chief confided, leaning closer with a conspiratorial air. "It is the path to my ascension, to become the greatest warrior our kind has ever known." His clawed hand clenched into a fist, embodying the fire that burned within him for recognition and honor.


"Such ambition can forge a mighty blade," Fizz mused, thinking of other, long passed warriors who had similar goals. "It can also shatter under its own weight. Only a very, very few kobolds have ever ascended, and each of them have been touched by the divine."


"Then I will be touched by the divine!" The chief said, slamming one fist into his palm. His exuberance, his confidence tickled Fizz, and the monk nodded in agreement.


"I'm sure you will be, if you have not already. Certainly, we do not know what fate we will be led towards; but only the bravest and purest of souls are capable of grasping the opportunity to change their lives, when it is presented." Fizz glanced sidelong to the kobold, who had scored a small cracker filled with some pink piped paste. The kobold was licking the paste off with rapt fascination. "I'm sure that when the time comes, you will achieve greatness."


Chief licked a little too hard and flicked the cracker out of his hand, which landed paste side down on the ground. He picked it back up, and then nodded sagely to Fizz, clearly not having paid attention to anything he said. "Your counsel is wise, honored monk." Andraak's tail flicked with a blend of anxiety and anticipation. "The road is dark and the monsters most dangerous, but I cannot turn aside now, not when glory lies within my grasp."


"Glory is a mercurial mistress," Fizz countered, ruminating on the vastness of his own storied existence. "She demands much, but offers little in return, save for fleeting moments that echo in the halls of time."


The kobold's brow furrowed, perhaps pondering the depths of the disguised deity's musings or merely calculating his next move in the grand game unfolding around them. "But to echo in the halls of time is to exist forever!" The kobold finally said, looking up at Fizz quizzically. "That's why I will ascend!"


Fizz watched the kobold, feeling the eternal dance of mortal ambition playing out behind the kobold's eyes yet another time. He reached out, and rested a palm on the kobold's scaled skull, his hand surprisingly warm and surprisingly soothing. "May your journey lead you to the honor you seek, Andraak," the dragon finally said, his tone layered with a compassion that spanned eons.


"Thank you, venerable one," Chief replied. He paused, looking up at the hand on his head, and then politely, carefully, pushed the hand away from him, the way one might discourage someone from petting their pet dog. "Why are you here, then?"


Fizz's face flushed slightly, and he glanced around the room. "Well, you say you are searching for a way to claim a treasure stolen from your chief. I, too, am looking to reclaim a treasure that was taken from me."


"Wow, who would steal from a monk?" Chief asked, crossing his arms. "Monks don't even have any good stuff. It seems like a waste of time. What do you have, like, a walking stick?"


Fizz's face, a mask of serenity, veiled the tempest within. "Yes, sure, let's call it a walking stick. One that I've had for a long time, that is, shall we say, very important to me. A friend," he began, the word leaving a bitter taste upon his tongue, "deemed it prudent to use it as surety in an exchange. Alas, the deal collapsed, and I was beholden to honor the terms of the contract."


"Ah, treachery," Chief nodded sagely, though his eyes betrayed a glint of mischief. He was, after all, a kobold, and no stranger to the misdealings of the less-than-sincere. "It always comes down to treachery."


At that precise moment, Fizz felt a warm tingle at his fingertips—the signal he had been awaiting. His ticket was aglow with a soft, golden light, a beacon amid the sea of decadence. He exhaled a silent sigh of relief; the time had come to reclaim what was his by right.


"Excuse me," Fizz intoned, his voice steady, yet the tremor in his heart betrayed his eagerness to escape the probing questions and even more penetrating gaze of the kobold.


With measured strides, he approached the pile of gifts, each more elaborately wrapped than the last. Yet there was one that stood out—a package so large it served as the foundation for a makeshift table, which held up the remainder of the white elephant 'gifts'. He wondered how many of them had been sourced naturally, and how many were, like his, taken under false pretenses, or duress.


"I'll choose number one," Fizz declared, resting his hand on the top of the wooden chest, shrouded in ornate paper. He could not feel his hands, but he could feel the pulse of his own divinity beneath the packaging, calling out to him, demanding to be reunited with him. It was a chest of improbable dimensions, bound in ribbons that shimmered with an otherworldly sheen.


"Quite the choice," came Charn's voice from behind him, smooth as velvet and sharp as a knife's edge. "A substantial selection for a man of the cloth."


"Size," Fizz said, turning to look at Charn, his hands never leaving the chest, "is often an indicator of worth, is it not?"


"Indeed," Charn purred, his striped tail flicking behind him, flush with amusement.


Fizz could feel the gazes of the party guests upon him—Hugh's shy curiosity, Kolby's boisterous approval, Kraft's keen appraisal. Yet it was the scrutiny of the kobold that weighed most heavily on his mind.


"So. Is that it?" Fizz asked, nodding down towards the chest he held between his hands. The table was six feet long, and three feet high, and Fizz knew that the item inside it was usually much bigger. "It is mine now, correct?" 


"It certainly is. By all means, claim your prize. It is yours. Again," Charn obliged with a flourish of his hand, and a rolling cart bedecked with a shiny, shimmering tablecloth was rolled up behind the table by two waiters, who set about offloading the remaining unclaimed gifts off of the 'table' that was now officially Fizz's. The monk watched, tapping his foot impatiently, his arms folded as the waiters took their time to do things 'correctly'.


When they were finished, Fizz pulled on the thick paper that shrouded the gift he had claimed. The audience murmured in anticipation as he ripped it off, revealing a chipped wood container, reinforced with wooden beams. Everyone who knew what the gift exchange was began to titter, wondering what could possibly have supplied something that filled such a massive container.




"An excellent beginning to our festivities," Charn announced. He clapped his hands together, and the rest of the guests did as well, as Fizz undid the simple latch on one side of the container, and held the lid in his hand. He didn't want the rest of the guests to see what was within, but he needed to confirm, visually, what he already knew in his heart to be true. 


Just a peek, but that was enough; as he cracked it open, a wind blew through the room, catching the wood and swinging it wildly open. At least, it felt like a wind, but Fizz turned and glared at the tiger, knowing a magical spell when he felt one.
"Come, surely you would not deprive the rest of the guests a chance to see what you've opened up?" Charn teased. He leaned forward, and his smile widened as his eyes sharpened with malicious glee. "Or did you forget that others can 'steal' a package that's already been opened?"


"What?!" Bahamut roared, and the audience took a step back, away from the monk that had made such an incongruously loud noise. "That's not part of the rules!'


"I'm afraid those are the rules," Charn said, stepping up to the far side of the chest. He rapped his knuckles against the corner of it, three times in quick succession, and the box disintegrated. Each of the four walls detached from each other, falling away from the massive, platinum colored cock that had been crammed inside. Fizz's cheeks flushed a dark, deep red, ears burning as his massive dragon cock was revealed, several feet longer than the six foot table, the compressed flesh accordioning out to its full size. Crushed, flattened styrofoam packing peanuts fell to the ground and were caught up in the remnants of the breeze that had gusted by, lifting up into the air in a celebration of confetti.


"You bastard," the dragon disguised as a man stammered, as he took the massive chrome portal ring that hummed at the base end of the dragon cock between his hands. "You really just couldn't help yourself, could you?"


The tiger merely stepped back into the crowd, glancing around to see whomst was next to pick from the pile of presents. 


"That's quite the package, for a man who has taken a vow of celibacy," Chief jested, as the kobold stepped up next to Fizz, helping to drag the huge dragon dong away from the package it had come in. "This doesn't seem very usable as a 'walking stick', either."


"Well, I was being polite in mixed company," Fizz said, his blush increasing as the kobold warrior stopped pulling at the portal ring and instead walked down the length of his shaft. He rested a clawed paw on the dragon's cock, just on top of the knot that bulged out over the rim of the cockring, and stroked his way towards the tip.


"This is a dragon's cock," Chief announced, rubbing his small palm in between two of the ridges that lined the shaft itself. They weren't extremely pronounced, more gill shaped than anything, but the kobold scrutinized them carefully. That was when Fizz realized he could feel the kobold, touching his dick, and it was responding. 


Bahamut's shaft had a solid baculum going down the full length of it, all the way to the tip, was kept perkily pointing forwards even as the rest of the shaft was limp and fleshy around it. As it began to swell up, ballooning from soft flabby curves into firm, erect lines of power and masculinity, the kobold circled around the front of it.


"What is it," Fizz said, maintaining his composure as best he could. He saw Chief reaching for the tip of his cock, and pulled backwards, tugging it out of range of the kobold's questing paw.
"Well, wait, this is a dragon's cock," Chief asserted. He stepped forward, pressing his fingers into the slit at the end of the dragon's tip, and Fizz chomped down on his tongue to hide back a moan. He had not been touched, anywhere on his cock, for weeks. The kobold's innocent touch had him surging to powerful, full erection, as that single finger scraped a claw up the dewy, soft, slick lining of his shaft.


"Yes, well," Fizz started to stammer, his throat constricting against the truth that clawed at its confines. He could not lie, it went against his very nature, but he also could not tell the gathering that the cock he was dragging outside was his own, especially since they now knew that it belonged to a God of the Air. "You see, little one, sometimes we find ourselves in possession of things... far beyond our control or desire," he said, his voice a soft rumble.


"Indeed?" Andraak tilted his head, his small frame leaning closer,and he rested his elbows on the head of the dragon's glans, resting his chin in it as he stared defiantly up at the monk. "This seems like a heavy burden for a man of peace. Especially a man of peace who is not connected to dragonkind, as I, myself, am."


"Oh, trust me," Fizz grunted, as he resumed dragging his cock along the smooth tiled floor of the fancy gala. "I am much closer connected to this grand thing than you will ever be. I am..." He paused, and, unable to help himself, he gave the kobold a hopeful wink. "Just as fierce and fiery, perhaps."


Chief's eyes widened, an ember of understanding igniting within their depths. A sharp intake of breath, and the kobold's demeanor shifted, his stance brimming with newfound purpose. "The genitals of a dragon god..." he murmured, looking down at the cock that he was resting his elbows on, reverently. "A treasure beyond comparison."


Just then, at that very moment, Chief's ticket began to glow, just as Fizz's had. With an agility belying his stature, he jumped up on top of the massive cock, wobbling briefly as he found his place on it, and then waved his ticket in the air as he pointed down at the shaft below him. "This one! I claim this one! This is the honor my tribe needs!"


"WAIT!" Bahamut's protest was a thunderclap, sudden and jarring in the hushed room. His face paled, the realization of the catastrophe at hand dawning upon him like a chilling sunrise. He lowered his voice, and put on a warm, sagely smile. "The package you seek - your chief's, correct? It can not possibly be this one."


"True, but to present the virility of a deity to my kin..." Chief's voice was thick with ambition, his eyes glazed over with the thought of victory and celebration. "That would elevate me above mere warriors. Above mere chieftains. We worship dragons, after all."


Bahamut's mind raced, his godly wisdom locked in a battle with the strictures of his lawful nature. To forcibly reclaim his own would be an act of tyranny, unworthy of his station. Yet the thought of surrendering such an intimate piece of himself to the wiles of another...


He closed his eyes, a single bead of sweat trailing down his temple, the cool air playing across his exposed skin. In the silence, he could feel the ripples of desire and intrigue emanating from the guests, each enveloped in their own anticipation. Hugh’s gaze lingered with compassionate curiosity, while Kolby chuckled, raising his glass in a silent toast to the unfolding drama.


"Your destiny is grander than you know, Kobold," Fizz finally managed, his voice strained with the effort of diplomacy. "But it need not be built upon the foundations of another's shame."


"Destiny," Chief repeated, his voice a purr of contentment. "Yes, this is my destiny." The kobold's eyes gleamed with the reflection of the gilded surface beneath him, betraying his fervor. "See it from my point of view, your wiseness. I am but a kobold, in a world full of monsters. Bringing home the essence of a god... of our god... it's an honor that transcends any earthly gift," 


The dragon-god’s heart thundered against his ribcage, conflicting between personal need and inherent duty. He understood the gravity of the kobold's words, and knew all too well the power that an artifact such as... his cock... would wield over a kobold's tribe. A power that should have been his alone to command.


"Such a relic would indeed be revered," Fizz conceded, the words a bitter draught on his tongue. He could reveal himself to the kobold, and demand the kobold sacrifice his fairly-awarded gift back to him, but this went as much against his own nature as crushing the tiger into paste for taking it from him in the first place would be. It was his own choice that led him here, and his innate being demanded that he follow the high path until he could reclaim what was rightfully his. He lowered his head, and released the package, much to the kobold's whooping delight.


A hand rested on his shoulder, and Fizz turned, to see Charn standing there, smirking deviously. 


"You get to choose again," Charn informed him, gesturing with his other hand to the table stacked with boxes. "Any package you want, other than one that's already been chosen this round."


"So I can't choose my own," Fizz said, watching the kobold grunt and groan as he struggled to drag the package that was more than twice as long as he was, towards the exit.


"Nope. But don't worry, if you choose something exciting, I'm sure someone else will steal that from you, too, and then you can choose any package you want, later. How about that?"


"You are a scurrilous cad, Charn," Fizz sighed, as he approached the remaining gifts. Whatever he chose would not be able to replace the package he had just given away to a kobold (A KOBOLD!) but he was a dragon of law and order, and he would play this game out. In the end, the truth would beat out the deception, and he would win. He reached out, his hand hovering before the wrapped enigma labeled with the number eleven.


As he touched it, he felt a tingle, a surge tingling through his body. He had felt something similar when he touched the first box, but that was a surge of familiarity, hope and excitement. This was something arcane, a cat's cradle of deception and mischief. He lifted the gift, its weight insignificant compared to the burden of his choice. This object, unknown and unclaimed, held the potential for triumph... or further humiliation. 


"Number eleven," the monk announced, his voice steady despite the tempest within him. A collective murmur rose from the assembly, the guests leaning forward, eager to see what new package was about to be unwrapped.


Charn’s voice cut through the thick tension, velvet wrapped around steel. "Ah, gift number eleven? What an interesting choice. You see, gift eleven is a... special kind of treasure," he said with a sly grin. 


"One of these gifts was, for lack of a better term, booby trapped, you see. a rune of transplantation. As soon as you touched it, you activated it. Consider it... a permanent swap," Charn announced. He gestured, and the package unfolded itself, compelled by an unseen force.The portal ring itself was the same as every other, capable of swelling and shrinking to scale with the one wearing it, but this one was urgent. Fizz barely had the chance to comprehend the diminutive size of the fat, grub-like Urd penis and soft, delicate testicles that sprang out of the wrapping, before the package itself fused itself to his groin. 


The ring bounced from his hands, popping between his thighs, melting through the monk's garments he was wearing and fusing in against the ring that was already there between his thighs. Somehow, despite the dragon's actual ring being much, much larger, the two fused together, and Fizz shuddered as magicks that came from a source outside of anything he had ever experienced, in his own dimension, melded flesh with flesh. 


Fizz looked down, staring at his groin, where the plump, soft flesh of a smooth pink cock had settled, dangling cutely from his groin. "By the moons," he whispered, his eyes widening. The tiny, reptilian apparatus was now a part of him, an intimate mockery of his true form. The contrast was stark, ludicrously so, and it filled him with a sense of profound vulnerability. His thoughts churned with a blend of shock and mortification, the surrealness of the situation clouding his divine senses.  
The metal portal ring slid off, both sides of it in fact, falling to bounce on the floor between his legs. The portal ring slid off. Which meant that the plump, fat Urd cock that was filling out with fresh blood between his legs was his. He stammered, roared, and dropped the disguise entirely. What had seemed to be a male human monk now shuddered and erupted into the massive platinum colored dragon that he truly was. 


He caught himself before he pushed himself through the ceiling, but for three or four seconds, there was a humongous naked dragon in the middle of the ballroom, easily seventy feet long and twenty feet high. He slapped his tail on the ground, potted plants swept through the open door to the patio, guests running and screaming. He was massive. But it didn't help, he could tell even before looking down that even reverted back to his normal form that his large, prized dragon package had not 'sized up' with him. He swung his massive head back and behind, staring at the diminutive Urd cock the peeked out, two humiliatingly tiny testicles lost in the expansiveness of his groin between his powerful back legs.


"CHARRRRRRN!" Bahamut roared, and the tiger grinned, giving him a wave from the other side of the room.


"Good gracious, what an exquisite turn of events!" Charn exclaimed, clapping his hands with wicked glee. The other guests had given Bahamut plenty of room, although some watched with marked fascination; they had expected this to happen. Bahamut glowered down at the insignificant feline beneath him, and huffed a stream of superheated vapor through his nostrils, the heat of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. 


His mind raced for solutions, paths by which he might regain his stolen dignity. Yet, standing amidst the finery and folly, adorned with a jest for genitals, the Lawful Good God found himself ensnared by the very rules he upheld.


"Don't be so grumpy, big guy. It looks good on you. I think this is a fascinating new chapter of your life," Charn mused, relishing the sight before him. "And if you end up not liking it... well, there's always next year's office party."


The laughter and chatter of the party swirled around Bahamut as he stood, exposed and diminished. His honor demanded reparation, but how could he reclaim what was his without breaking his sacred laws? The question lingered, unanswered, a poignant ache in his newly confined flesh. Reluctantly, the dragon remolded himself back down into the size and shape of the human monk. The Urd's package remained a constant, swelling from the size of a pimple to a fairly reasonable kobold package, the smooth, soft pink cock growing between his thighs as they shrank down around it. He finally reached down, and gave his new cock a stroke. The flesh was rubbery, a different texture than he expected, and felt slick in his hands. However, he didn't feel anything when he did it. Curious, he began to stroke himself, squeezing down around the bulging shaft which began to firm up to full erection. 


"Charn, it's broken..." he mumbled, ears blushing red and hot and tight as people watched him toying with himself. He, a GOD, and unable to even feel his own penis?! Not even in control of his own arousal? His cock thickened, was quite hard in fact, and he could feel 'his' testicles tightening against his groin, but all he could feel was something scraping slowly, intermittently, against the underside of his dick. Like it was being pushed... no dragged... over something loose and rough. 


He craned his head around the room, and realized with a growing dread, that he couldn't see his dick anymore - couldn't see the kobold, either. The filthy grub had made off with his ACTUAL dick!


Bahamut, God of Dragons, Angel of the Seven Heavens, Grand Master of Flowers, Lord of the North Wind, was being cock cucked. He turned towards the door, intuitively aware of where his cock must be, being dragged out into the accompanying grounds, but his intentions were immediately thwarted.


"Where are you going?" Charn asked. The host had reappeared at his side, resting one warm paw on the dragon's arm, cupping his elbow. "You can't leave, just yet... the game is still going on."


"No, he's leaving with my dick, so... I have to go get it..."


"I'll handle that, big guy," The tiger snorted. He reached down, giving the small smooth kobold penis a squeeze around the shaft, stroking along it slowly towards the tip. "But someone might, um, still choose to 'steal' this from you, so, you have to stay here... especially since you're already wearing it."


"But-" The dragon's nostrils flared, but Charn shook his head.


"It's the rules, mister monk. And you don't want to break the rules, do you?" The tiger said, stroking the erecting shaft. Bahamut looked down at the diminutive flesh sprouting from his groin, unable to feel a thing. His erection throbbed, numbly, as the tiger's palm pressed roughly against the tip, making the dragon's cheeks blush with hot red humiliation. 


He knew he couldn't leave; that his moral code, his alignment forbade him from breaking the rules he had agreed to, and so he sighed and turned back towards the table. Whatever happened, he would... eventually... get his package back, and be made whole. So for now, cheeks read, brain burning with embarrassment, he presented himself to the crowd, hoping that someone might want to choose his small little penis as their gift for the evening. 


Out in the woods, Andraak was industriously tugging and pulling on his bounty. He had a long, long journey ahead, and he wasn't exactly sure how he was going to get this massive donger all the way back to the clan-lands, but he was Andraak; the fiercest, strongest, and smartest of all the kobolds. He would figure out a way. 

He was walking backwards, dragging the portal ring with both hands, when he felt the soil under his feet begin to crumble away underneath him. His acute perception helped him realize that he was about to fall down a sharp incline, but he jumped with lightning fast reflexes, launching himself up and onto the dick itself. 


Unfortunately, the heavy metal portal was dropped when he did that, and he felt the shaft bend underneath him as he latched on with arms and legs around the huge platinum colored penis. The metal portal ring flopped over the edge of the incline, and for a second, Andraak thought it was going to stop. It didn't, though, and the whole flexing maleness underneath him shifted, scraping against rocks and branches as it was dragged down over the side of the hill.
Andraak couldn't look over his shoulder, as his butt was swatted and scraped by the branches and brambles that the big dick plowed through. The two balls were pushed up against his feet, and he stomped at them, trying to use them as brakes to slow down the ever-increasing speed of the runaway penis. They didn't help, as they slammed against a rocky outcropping. If anything, it made things worse, as the big rubbery balls kept the solid metal ring from getting lodged up against the stones. 


Instead, it flipped up, flopping end over end, and Andraak was given a momentary flash of light as the moon passed by directly overhead. He got just a glimpse of rocks and darkness beneath him, saw the glinting of light against rippling water, and realized that he was at the river. Then the dick landed on top of him, the full size of the horse-sized appendage flattening the kobold underneath it for one exhilarating moment. 


Andraak saw everything, in that moment. The salty, rubbery, dense mass of the True Dragon's cock crushed all weakness out of his body, the kobold's brain exploding in a mass of colors and sensations that he had never experienced before. He saw a vision: Himself, standing atop a hill mounded with the fallen bodies of those who would oppose him, his muscular body flexing as he held up some great weapon, with all of the other warriors of his clan, no, the chiefs and warriors of every clan, bowing and worshiping and singing HIS praises! 


Then the penis was gone, the unintentional anointment by the dragon god upon the mighty kobold warrior finished as soon as it started, leaving Andraak to hold onto the slick shaft with sharp digging claws and powerful legs. The two of them rolled down the hill, bouncing over anything that wasn't crushed underneath them, until the cock stopped with a crackling lurch. Andraak twisted around, grunting as he was flopped over onto his side and partially pinned under the shaft, the head of which had somehow gotten caught in the crotch of a twinned tree trunk. The kobold held on for a moment longer, clutching tightly, claws digging into the hard flesh enough to puncture, but strangely, no blood welled up against his fingertips.


At the party, Fizz stared into space as a Barlunian fussed over the particulars of quantum inversion particulate residue. What on earth was happening? He could feel his cock being scraped, slapped, punched, and felt the peculiar sensation of being... ridden? And then being... airborne? His cock touched nothing. 
Then, all of a sudden, he felt his cock head get wedged, twisted and bent backwards, his sparkling soda flying as he clutched at his groin in shock at the pain of it. His own dick jutted outwards, still numb, just a chode of pink flesh against the monk's warm palms.


About a mile away, Andraak had found something. As he unmounted, his foot slapped against a plastic bag laying on the ground nearby. He picked it up, curious at the feeling of a curved dome with a metal spoke jutting from the middle of the inside of it. He took it out of the bag, twisting it this way and that as he puzzled over what it could be. There were a couple other pieces inside the bag, including a small white placard, which showed a kid holding a wooden sword up in the air. The sword had a pommel that looked exactly like the metal dome in his hand. He leaned back against the penis, studying the little panel, and the other bits that had slid out of the plastic bag. There was a small dagger, the kind that you would use to peel the bark off of a stick, and a curled up soft felt scabbard. The scabbard was about two feet long, and had a strange bending curl to it. Most peculiar. Andraak leaned back against the heft of the huge package that he was taking home to his clan, pondering over the pommel in his hand, and the dagger. What could this possibly be for?


As he shifted, he felt something sliding around in the meat of the dick he was leaning against. He bounced a bit, curious. It felt like there was a stick or something, going down the middle of the six foot long dragon penis that he had claimed. A stick? Maybe some kind of special dragon scale, or even a bone? Did penises have bones in them?


Then, realization crashed down on top of him. Of course. Of course. The dragon god was the god of craftsmen as well as dragons! He had included everything that Andraak would need to craft a fearsome sword. What would strike fear into the hearts of his foes then a sword, lovingly crafted from the PENIS of a GOD!?


He didn't have time to think, or plan, or sanitize his tools. Andraak needed to strike while the iron was hot. He took the dagger from the plastic bag, and examined it. It was a solid steel piece, decently made, certainly up to the task at hand. It looked like the kind of tool that would be used for field dressing, which was appropriate, given the circumstances. 


Circling around the massive dragon penis, Andraak sized up where he should start. The special rod inside this penis could possibly go all the way to the tip, and if he just hacked and slashed, he could possibly scrape it, or even crack it. So he had to be procedural. He didn't know where it was, so he would have to start where it wasn't.


The thought that the dragon might still be able to feel what he was about to do didn't cross his mind. He brought the thick blade to the tip of the penis, to the slightly puckered, damp flesh where the fluids came out of. The slit was as wide as Andraak's hand, and if he wanted, he could probably have stuffed his hand up inside there, to feel around for the end of the magical rod. He didn't want to, though, as that seemed like it would be disrespectful.


Instead, he put the blade up against the very tip of the penis, the end of the blade scraping against the tender flesh of the inside of the dragon's urethra, and began to push. The skin of the dragon's penis was firmer than normal skin, but Andraak was a powerful warrior. He put his back into it, using both paws to keep the knife angled into the flesh, and by leaning forward and pushing with both feet, began to till the dragon's penis. 


Faintly, he thought he heard a roar, but Andraak was not a kobold who got spooked easily. The knife cleaved slowly and surely up through the thickening flesh, bisecting the glans of the penis almost in half. He could not see exactly what he was cutting through, as he focused entirely on where the knife was going, not what it left behind. The two halves of the dragon's cockhead, still connected underneath the urethra, unfolded slowly behind him like butterfly wings.


He pushed the knife up over the corona bulge at the edge of the massive penis, and as the knife sank down into the flesh just behind, he felt a solid thunk against the tip of the blade. That must be the rod. Andraak paused for a moment, quickly moving to straddle the huge penis, sitting on the knot at its base and leaning far forward, to grip the jutting handle of the steel knife. He adjusted it, slightly, lifting it up so that it would not be gouging along the inner rod. Then he pulled backwards, dragging the knife down the length of the cock. There were three ridges of firmer flesh, kind of like the cartilage of shark fins, and Andraak heaved with all his might to pull the blade through the first one. 


The flesh parted, the succulent red flesh inside bared to the cool night air. There was, indeed, a rod inside, a smooth bone that  curved elegantly along the lower part of the dragon's shaft. Andraak wanted to pause in his slicing, to examine it, but he knew he had to be thorough if he wanted to make Bahamut proud with the awesome sword he was about to make. 


Still, the hard ridges were a pain in the ass to slice his small blade through. Andraak wasn't able to pull the blade cleanly through the second ridge. It was just too tough, too resilient, too powerful. So he pulled the blade out, and pressed the smooth edge of it against the tip of the ridge. He had to focus all of his strength into keeping the blade perpendicular to the visible rod underneath, but carefully, firmly, he began to saw the blade back and forth. The flesh parted, revealing a cross section of the whitish, compacted tissue that made up the solid pleasure-ridge.  Andraak stabbed the knife in, feeling the flesh resist as he sank the metal into the firm flesh, and then he scooted back, and prepared to repeat the process on the second one.


"CHARN!" Bahamut screeched, staggering up against a nearby pillar. The dragon could feel his clock failing, his natural dragon form aching to burst out and attack whoever was causing him pain.


"What is it, love?" The tiger oozed as he slid over, sipping on a martini. The monk panted, both hands clutching at his groin as he felt the stabbing pain of a small blade being dragged down the length of his cock.


"They're... mutilating my cock... you have to revert the swap. You have to return my equipment to me!"


"Sweetie, that's not very noble of you. The rules are binding - they are allowed to do whatever they want with their prize, just as you're allowed to do whatever you want with yours."


"I want MY cock and balls BACK! NOW!" The dragon in a man's form shouted, and Charn pursed his lips. 


"Here, let's go outside. Let's see if they're nearby, and we can ask them to be nicer. They won't be obligated to, but the fresh air will do you good."


"He's CUTTING MY COCK IN HALF!" The monk sobbed. Tears ran down his face at the extraordinary pain, like something was biting and tearing into his cock, but when he reached for his junk to swat it away to feel what was happening, there was nothing there. Pain-stricken, he hobbled towards the door, his mind too confused with agony to realize that he was leaving out the opposite side of the building that the kobold did.


Back in the woods, about a mile away, Andraak grinned proudly down at his work. He had done it, he had split the dragon's dick from the tip to the root, up until the blade hummed as it touched against the forcefield locking the huge dick in place. He placed the dagger carefully back into the plastic bag he had found it in, and stepped onto the maimed dragon dick.


His feet were not the cleanest, being that he walked everywhere barefoot, and he left a smear of grime along the inside of the bisected penis as he braced his feet on either side of the flesh. It had opened naturally, the flesh inside bulging outwards and forcing the split skin apart from itself, but it hadn't split enough for Andraak to pull the baculum out, yet. So, with one foot on either side, Andraak started hopping up and down, bouncing his weight to force the fleshy halves apart from each other. There were some soft tearing sounds, as the fascia and other tissues split apart, forced to tear away from each other underneath the bulk of the big bone jutting through the center of the dragons' shaft. As he hopped, he shuffled himself forward, so that he was evenly flattening the entire length of the dick, six inches at a time. His feet left dark-smudged rounded imprints on the soft inner tissue of the dick, the fleshy fibrous tissues pulping in wet belching spatters between his toes. 


Andraak didn't care about that, so much, though the hot gushy fluid did feel nice. He twisted his toes through it, wiggling as he stomped and squashed and flattened the dick out, helping to butterfly it out until it had been mostly, if lumpily, stretched out.


Because of that, the big smooth bone jutted out into the open air, still disappearing into the portal itself, but definitely jutting forward. Andraak examined it, cupping under the length of the gleaming white bone and stroking his fingers along the smooth length. It was just about two feet long, and slightly oblong; flatter than tall. The graceful curve of it bent slowly downwards and then back up, serpentining gently. Hmmm.


Andraak grasped the big, warm, slick bone in his arms, hugging around it, and braced his legs in the mushy, dirt, pulped remains of the inside of the dragon's cock. There was still plenty of un-pulped, uncrushed tissue, and admittedly, Andraak's feet did slide around a bit as he positioned himself, but he was able to clench his toes and force them deep into some of the uncrushed tissues on the side, using them to anchor himself. Then, he leaned backwards, pulling with all his might.


He was fairly certain he felt it shift, just a bit, but before he could be sure, his feet slipped and Andraak fell down. He landed on his rear, a splash of ruined inner dick meat squirting out from under his lean kobold buns, but quickly hurried back to his feet to try again. He needed that bone! Especially now that he'd already cut up the dick itself, the chief might not like that, but he would like a sword made out of dragon bone! Andraak's feet skidded and bulldozed through the soft wet flesh, kicking it out of the 'tarp' that the outer skin of the dragon's dick made, as he hugged the big jutting bone between his arms and began to lurch back and forth, dragging and twisting and pulling it backwards. It was a stubborn sapling, firmly rooted on the other side of the portal ring, but Andraak knew what to do with saplings. 


Unfortunately, Andraak had never dealt with 'dragon saplings', before, and after repeated tries, the only thing that the kobold had accomplished was an almost professional-level stripping out of all the gooey wet pulp that had used to be the dragon's shaft. Andraak was coated in it, chunks and strands of it caught between his fingers, his toes, in his ears, even between his buttocks. He was completely coated in the viscera that had at one point been the 'stuffing' in the God of Dragon's dick. The kobold contemplated things, as he stroked his fingers down the gleaming bone. 


Then, he shrugged, and picked up the blade. He would have to figure out how to pull that dick out, later. For now, he was going to focus on what he was good at: Whittling.


About a mile away, Charn was patting the monk's back, and offering him a fizzy soda with some cherry syrup in it. Bahamut was sobbing, curled up and rocking, and seemed to be in a genuine amount of distress. Charn was glad that the poor fella was away from the party going on inside. More of the gifts were being opened, swapped, and enjoyed. A sleek white ferret slipped out onto the patio behind Charn, gesturing for him to rejoin the party, and Charn left the distraught monk to his feelings.


Bahamut didn't know what, exactly, was happening, but he had felt the inside of his cock being trampled on by the filthy little kobold. He had felt the tissue being crushed, the spongy erectile tissue completely unprotected because the thick leathery skin was spread like tarp underneath it. He felt his dick being gutted, scraped and emptied entirely out. 


And now, his baculum, which he had never even felt before, was vibrating with the harsh, painful scrape of a thick, hard blade against the glossy enamel. Mineral was scraped, peeled away, the knife returning to carve another shard of baculum away. 


Bahamut couldn't do this, he couldn't take it anymore. The pain of the knife peeling back the shiny outer surface of his bone and carving into the tender inner marrow, was beyond what he could allow himself to endure. He shifted, flaring out into his full dragon mode, and took to the air, his pathetically small Urd cock and balls dangling merrily between his humongous legs. He could feel where his dick was, and he narrowed in, swooping in the air towards the kobold in the woods.


Andraak's hands moved with a swift, determined finesse that had come from weeks of sharpening sticks into spears. His spears were the best in his clan - he had thrown one and skewered it through not three, not four, but FIVE frogs at once. Admittedly, they were lined up in a row because they were for sale at a food stand in the center of town, but the vendor was so impressed that Andraak didn't even have to pay for them. That was a good day.


By the time he was done, the blade of the knife was warm from all of the chiseling and whittling. There was a gritty white powder coating his wrists and the back of his hands, shards of the whittled baculum clinging to the wet paste of the dragon's dick flesh. He ran his fingers down the smooth edge of the blade, pleased with its sharpness. 


He only needed the blessing of the God of Crafting to help make it the weapon he saw it as in his mind. And so, unaware that the God of Crafting was beelining for him, full of anguish and pain, Andraak began to pray. 


"Mighty Bahamut, God of the Forge and of Craft,
Lend your divine grace to this finely whittled shaft,
With your guiding hand, this blade was wrought,
Now.. bless it with strength, that is my thought."


The flapping of a dragon's great wings could be heard drawing closer, which made Andraak's heart pulse and beat with rampant excitement. Was the prayer working? Was the God of the Forge coming to bless him? Andraak, emboldened, prayed even louder, shouting his wishes into the ether with the hope that his weapon would be blessed.


"GREAT LORD, I BESEECH YOU! LOOK UPON MY WORK!
THE HILD AND THE BLADE, I NEED YOUR HELP TO MERGE!
ATTACH THE POMMEL! SEAL IT! MAKE IT RIGHT!
THAT THIS SWORD SHALL BE WHOLE AND FILLED WITH YOUR MIGHT!"


When Andraak opened his eyes, there was a humongous platinum colored dragon landing directly in front of him. The dragon's mouth was open, shocked to the point of silence. Impressed with Andraak's work, no doubt. Andraak only had one more verse to speak, and he said so, hurriedly and excitedly, as he held the steel pommel from the kit out to the dragon, beseeching him for his help.


"If ever the edge dulls or this mighty sword shatters, 
or broken in twain and it's pieces are scattered,
then may your divine spark surge up from within, 
to make it as strong as it... used to have been!"


Andraak grinned up to the massive dragon, proud of himself. He had been versed long ago to the secret power of rhyming, when praying, and he was sure that the God of the Forge would be impressed.


A small squeak emerged from the humongous dragon's throat. Bahamut, GOD OF THE DRAGONS and the prime exemplar of all that was right and just and orderly, was being asked to bless a weapon made of his own penis. He had come here to shatter the kobold, to obliterate him from existence. Instead... instead he was compelled. Compelled to help the kobold. Compelled to complete this magical transformation that the kobold was attempting.


Bahamut grimaced, and reached for the smooth, sharpened spike that his baculum had been whittled into. He could feel, faintly, the warmth of his paw as he wrapped his fingers around his own baculum. He didn't want to do this. He couldn't... voluntarily do this. But he had been prayed to, had been beseeched by a proud and valiant warrior who wanted nothing more than having an epic sword. Bahamut... couldn't refuse. To do so would be unjust. 


The huge platinum dragon pulled, and deep in his own groin, he felt the rooted anchoring of his baculum tear free. He pulled it out, through the portal, grimacing as he tore a part of himself free of his groin. He held up the crudely fashioned... spear? dagger? The glistening, protective coating ended about a third of the way up, and either side had been carefully, scrupulously shaved down. The bone itself was slightly curved, but the kobold in front of him had been careful and intuitive to shape the blade to complement the natural shape of the dragon's dick bone. He sighed, as he held the spine of his dick between his fingers. Bahamut had to admit, the kobold put a lot of heart into it. It did look like it could be a formidable tool.. with his help. He gently smoothed his fingers along the roughly hewn blades of one side, his touch sharpening the minute unevenness that made up the carved edge, sharpening and straightening the blade. It only took a whim to harden the soft, spongey calcium core that had been exposed by the kobold's tinkering. 


Bahamut felt that it was right to do so, to temper the bone into something more powerful and potent than the mere structure of flesh. A soft enchantment to fuse its innate particles together, and the bone became something altogether else, more potent and powerful than adamantium. What he held between his fingers was no longer the desecrated baculum from his own cock; it was a weapon, sharp and strong and true. He took the offered pommel from the kobold's hands, and brought it to the hilt of the sword. 






If he thought about it, he would consider other options, but this was 'the way', and it was the right thing to do. He attached the pommel to the hilt, fusing the rounded steel ball in against the base of the bone, and sculpted metal and blade alike, feeling the balance of the weapon on his fingertips. Bahamut paused, closing his eyes to cast a simple enchantment on the blade, infusing it with a hint of his own internal power. It was a part of him, after all. It was only right to do it. Then, he handed it back to the kobold.


Andraak took the blade with shaking fingers. This was a weapon. This put what he had crafted, as fine and perfect as it was, to shame. The blade wanted to be wielded, it thirsted for conquest and justice, and the kobold held it up above his heads, exclaiming his place up to the cosmos above. Andraak was the ultimate warrior! Andraak would show the world his power!


Bahamut watched the kobold as he pranced and danced around triumphantly, his soft smile of amusement dropping from his muzzle as he realized what the kobold was dancing and prancing on. It was the pulped, muddy, ruined remains of the rest of his cock, laid out on the ground like a gutted deer. "And that, under your feet; does that need to be blessed as well?"


Andraak paused, looking down at the pulped remains of the dragon's flesh under his feet. He realized, suddenly, that he had made quite a mess, and had been quite wasteful with it. His kobold mind raced with thought; how could he make it look like this was intentional?!

"Yes it does!" He said. He hopped off of the discarded dick meat, and picked it up by the portal. The two bulbs of the dragon's knot hung heavily on either side, and thinking quickly, Andraak heaved the massive dick over his back. It was heavy, and gobbets of ruined flesh sluiced free of the damaged carcass, blobs of hot, slick flesh snail-trailing down over the kobold's butt and the back of his thighs. The kobold's shoulders slipped into the stomped-in dents on the inside of the dragon's knot bulbs, which hung on either side of the proud warrior's frame, like big sleek pads.


The rest of the cock skin hung down his back, the ridges creating a sort of protectively ridged armor along his back, going down to about his tail. The skin tapered down to the torn tip, which lay limply on the ground behind him.


"This.. is my cape! With which I can wade into battle! It is my righteous armor, with which I can defend myself! The skin of the most magnificent creature in existence, a DRAGON! Please, Bahamut, though I am but a lowly kobold, will you grant me a blessing of this as well?"


Bahamut sighed. His dick, his massive, beautiful dragon cock... was destroyed. No, it was worse than that. Dicks were malleable, could be sculpted and repaired and replaced at will, but this was not a human monk's cock or one of his other apparitions. This was his actual cock, the cock from which all of his other avatars' genitals sprung. And now it was a cloak for a kobold.






Reluctantly, Bahamut picked up the mangled carcass, frowning at what had been done to his beautiful flesh. He examined it, wanting to only see what he needed to do to repair it, but he couldn't - the kobold's hopes and fervent righteousness had painted a mental image over the cloak, the belief sculpting the way that the God saw the cloak as well. 


It would be pretty epic. With a tear in his eye, Bahamut began to strip the innards of his cock away from the skin of his dick, preparing it for its transformation.


________________


*~*~Back at the Kobold Camp*~*~*~*


Chief leaned forward on his throne, staring suspiciously at his finest warrior, who had returned from his quest to find the chief's magically stolen package. The warrior, Andraak, had suspiciously returned without the Chief's package. The Chief's assistants had come running, shouting about the return of the warrior, and whispering excitedly about his new weapon, so of course the Chief was on guard.


Andraak was swaddled in a cloak of the finest silk that Chief had ever seen. Immediately, he wanted it. The shimmery, silvery fabric clung to the warrior's shoulders and hung loosely down behind him. The Chief was attuned to nature enough to sense the hint of magic woven into the fine fabric, but he was puzzled - there were no seams, no indication of stitching at all. Was it not a woven material?

"Approach," he said, regarding Andraaka keenly. His guards to either side pointed their spears at the warrior, who barely contained his smirk of derision.


"I am here to claim my rightful place," Andraak said. "If you were to retire, here and now, I will allow you to flee the clan with your hide intact." 


Chief's brow furrowed. Such blatant and grandiose posturing was expected. The warrior strutted closer, and Chief frowned. The kobold's sword.. that was new. He rubbed his chin, as the warrior pushed his cloak away to reveal the handsome, ornate scabbard at his side.


"What is that? Where did you get it? And where are my precious jewels?"


"Well, I did find your package, Chief," Andraak said, mischief oozing from his grinning lips. "It was being sold at a grotesque street fair, a deviant market full of all kinds of strange and alien beings!"


The Chief's mouth opened in shock. "It was?!"

"Yes, and I could have grabbed it. A human monk ended up with it, and he was like, "Oh, Andraak! Please! Trade with me, I don't want this pitiful little package, I want YOUR package!"


"WHAT?!" The Chief shouted, in outrage. "My package is not pitiful! My package is PLENTIFUL!"


"For an Urd, sure! But I got my paws on something much bigger. A DRAGON's cock!"


Andraak reached behind him, grabbing the edges of the dragon dick-skin cloak, and pulled it around him. "The biggest cock in the world, and I bested it! Now it is blessed, by the GOD of the FORGE himself! I am invincible!"


The Chief stared at him in stunned silence. 'Blessed by Bahamut? Andraak? How!?'


The guards to either side of the Chief put their spears down, and approached Andraak. The one on the left reached out, and stroked his clawed fingers slowly down the side of the kobold's platinum colored 'leather' cloak. He gasped,as the cloak was warm to the touch, and contracted slightly at the caressing fingers. 


"It's alive!" The guard said. The other guard grabbed the other side, holding it in both hands and stroking fingers along it.


"It is! It feels just like... just like a DICK!" The other guard said. Andraak smirked knowingly at the chief, as the two guards caressed and fondled the thick skin of his cloak.


"That's right. The God of the Forge has blessed me with a living dragon skin cloak!" Andraak pulled it, stretching the leather around his frame even tighter. "I am basically a dragon's penis, made flesh!"


Other members of the clan, intrigued by the bold claims, began to enter the chieftain's throne room. 


"Well, then, you will be giving this cloak to me, no doubt, yes? As your Chief, it is only fitting that I get to wear the finest armor and wield the finest weapons." Chief said. He wanted to touch the cloak as well - the flesh had a certain oiliness that invited touch, and all of the other kobolds seemed to be enjoying it. 


Behind Andraak, the end of the penis cloak that lay on the ground,began to darken with blood, stiffening up with the attention of fawning fingers stroking and squeezing and pinching the flesh of the dragon's dick itself. A particularly heavy kobold, short and squat, stepped on the left side of the bifurcated glans, and appreciated the cushiony feel of the plump and pudging flesh under his sore, calloused foot. He maneuvered, stepping to the right so that he could step on both plump cushions, crushing the thick skin into the stone floor of the throne room.


Elsewhere, Bahamut was confused. He had returned to his own lair, despondent with the mutilation and loss of his most prized genitals. When he started to feel fingers touching his dick, he examined it, thinking that some stray mouse or something had scurried between his legs while he was dozing. There was nothing there, just the pitifully small kobold dick and balls that he had been 'gifted' at the swap. His dick was getting erect, though, the kobold shaft straining with the attention as, somewhere, ghostly fingers caressed along the outside of his cock. 


Bahamut's massive, regal dragon face darkened with a blush, with humiliation. What was happening with his cock, and who was doing it?


Back at the camp, the Chief's own muzzle was darkened with blood as well, his cheeks burning as he felt his cock, wherever it was, getting quite erect. He reached down, once again, feeling the portal at his groin and wishing that it was flesh and not metal that met his paw. 


He was... connected to this cloak somehow. He couldn't tell how or why, but the more the other kobolds squeezed and rubbed against it, the more he felt his own erection, wherever it was, throbbing in response.


Half of the clan had entered the room at this point, and the kobolds were vying for access to the cloak. Andraak felt himself being tugged backwards, as the cloak was stretched and pulled in different directions. The taller kobolds lifted it up out of the reach of the shorter kobolds, but the shorter kobolds merely went underneath the splayed out dragon dick skin, jumping up and catching at the smooth, glistening inside of the skin with their sharp little claws.


Elsewhere, Bahamut whimpered. What had been a pleasing, sensitive fawning was changing very quickly to a painful tug of war between dozens of little gremlins with no concept of what they were doing. He could feel claws sinking into flesh, scraping against the residual nerves that lined the underside of his skin, claws digging and scraping as they each vied for a small piece of the dragon's flesh. Did they realize what they were doing? Did they realize who's dick they were doing it to? 


Of course they didn't. Bahamut squirmed in humiliation, his body responding to the intricate, selfish yanks and pulls as the kobolds 'worshiped' his junk, in their own deviant little way.


"Stop," he whispered, wishing that they would just let his equipment go, that they would stop reveling in what had happened to the dragon's huge penis. 


They didn't, though. The kobolds were celebrating, each one eager to touch, to claim a piece of something so powerful and exciting as a dragon. The chubby kobold had been shoved off of the bifurcated glans, and now the purplish-hued flesh was being fought over, tugged in opposite directions by kobolds who each wanted the chance to hug and squeeze the big pieces of flesh. Underneath, kobolds were licking and biting at the smooth, tough flesh, and above the platinum skin had been scraped and gouged by dozens of claws. 


Andraak grinned and pointed his baculum sword at the Chief. "You can see that your followers worship me, now! This is my cloak! I made it! And you.. you are WEAK and NAKED, a cockless grub! Secede the throne to me, and I'll allow you to keep your head, Urd!"


Some distance away, the overwhelming sensation of being chewed, scraped, pulled, and gouged was getting to Bahamut. He realized that the pure physicality of the sensations he was having was causing his body to respond, and he shuddered in deeper embarrassment as he realized that this stupid fucking kobolds were going to make him cum. His body tightened, his groin preparing to unload its vastly pent up seed; months of his equipment being held in a box in the tiger's storage had made him desperate to spread his seed.
He could not have imagined that this would be how, though. The dragon looked balefully down to his pitifully small penis, reaching down to cup the loose, limp testicles in the tight kobold scrotum. It was only as his groin began to pulse, it was only when the orgasm began to rocket through his body with its unimaginable pleasure, that he wondered how, exactly, he was going to cum. Was the seed going to squirt out through the other portal ring? Was the kobold about to be doused in a blessing of dragon cum?


No, things were much crueler than that. The first heavy blast of dragon seed, rivaling that of the greatest stallion's in volume, was pushed suddenly and abruptly out through his groin. Unfortunately for Bahamut, and especially unlucky for the Chief, the tiny kobold equipment was not physiologically designed for so much seed to be pushed through it so quickly. 


The Chief, far away, got to feel this, but Bahamut got to watch, as his groin and its newly attached equipment bulged outwards with a massive flow of cum. A thread of seed shot out from the very tip, streaming in a constant high pressure volume up to the ceiling, before the base of the Urden cock abruptly ballooned outwards as the mismatched urethras failed. Seed bloomed inside the cock, faster than it could escape through the tip.


Bahamut winced, as the dick swelled outwards, the scrotum abruptly ballooning out with it as the flesh that separated the two was breached. The entire kobold groin was now a bubble of skin, inflated to its utmost limits by the rich, dense, potent seed of the God of Dragon's. 


Obviously, it exploded. 


As Andraak pointed his baculum sword at the Chief, the Chief wailed, clutching at his groin. He fell to the ground, rolling from side to side, as he felt his prized organs swollen with a pressure he'd never felt before. Well, perhaps once - when his lover had playfully squeezed the tip of his organ while he was urinating. The backup then had been excruciating, but it felt nothing like this.


The small hole that weaved through the kobold's penis was forcibly widened from within, as the tender lining of his urethra was forcibly stripped out of his dick. The flesh was scoured away, chunks and ribbons of inside meat being ejected outside. His testicles were slammed into the bottom of his scrotum as more seed flooded into it, the two eggs being pressed, crushed against his own taut scrotum. It was supposed to protect his balls, but now it was the anvil that they were being hammered against.


When his scrotum and penis ruptured, it was almost a relief. The agony yielded into one magnificent spurt, as the entire flesh of his penis was sundered free of his groin, a tearing ecstatic rip as flesh was pushed away. His scrotum went with it, and now there were only his balls, being battered and spun on their cords, as the heavy gouts of the dragon's massive orgasm blasted past and through them. 


The Chief had never known such agony, and went limp, his brain shutting down from the genitalial trauma he had endured. Many miles away, Bahamut also went limp. He had not felt the actual pain that the original owner of his genitals had endured, all he had known was that when his orgasm had finally been 'uncorked', and he was allowed to ejaculate freely, it had given him all of the satisfaction and pleasure that he had been missing out on.


His thighs and belly were soaked in a mixture of his seed and pieces and small chunks of devastated kobold flesh, but that was all easy enough to clean up. For now... for now, he needed to sleep.


Andraak stepped over the vanquished, unconscious Chief's body, and sat down on the throne. He grinned out over the other kobolds, who were whispering fearfully of the wild magicks that Andraak had used to torture and defeat their fearless leader. 


"I! Andraak! Am your leader now!" He said, proudly, boastfully. He pointed his sword amongst his new congregants, looking for the kobold, Skee, that had gotten him into all of this trouble in the first place. The clever little bugger had cleverly hidden themselves away, no doubt terrified of the wrath he would face if Andraak found him. 


Let the little scamp hide. Andraak WOULD find him, and they would have... a conversation. For now, it was GOOD to be the Chief!