July 8th, 5th Year after the 200 years war. Another month, another diary. It sometimes feels like such a hassle to put all this down, but I would be doing such a disservice to future theologians if I didn’t. So let’s start with the top. With Daorsa. Me. I’m a massive, 20-foot squirrel-dragon. My luxurious, warm gray fur fades to a creamy butterscotch color along my underside, and I’ve got a squirrel-tail comparable for my size. It’s quite handy, when it comes to binding and trapping people. Were it not for my black, scaly wings, it might not even be clear I’m a dragon, and not just a giant squirrel. Not that everything else is squirrel-like. Most squirrels don't have two pairs of breasts. Nor are most squirrels equipped with both male and female reproductive tracts, but, well, I take it as a further sign of my superiority. And very few squirrels are equipped with, say, a pouch. Or a tongue that can stretch many feet beyond their mouth. And certainly not a tongue with a hidden, venomous barb. Paralytic toxins are wonderful fun. Especially when the sting is painless. The confusion in their eyes when their legs give out, and I loom over them, it’s simply delicious. So that’s me. The most perfect place to be, where everyone belongs. It is just the natural way of things-the most perfect predator in creation should, eventually, tuck everyone away inside her, shouldn’t she? It’d be wrong not to. I’d almost say it was a chore, trying to bring the world to how it should be, but… I can’t. It’s ever so enjoyable. Whether it’s one of my worshippers, offering themselves up to me, or… Well, unexpected interlopers are ever so fun. Today, for instance. Their approach was obvious. Not just because of my informants in a nearby village, but, well… the poor dears were just so adorably naïve. They hadn’t even bothered to check for any scrying traps on the path up to the cave. It was almost as though they wanted to lose to me, to be in me. As well they should. There were four of them, all together. At the rear was a black-furred feline and an otter. The cat wore loose fitting robes, with an elegant staff he used as a walking stick—the party’s mage. The otter was dressed in little more than a loincloth. She, too, carried a staff, hers looking more more like a gnarled tree limb than anything else. It made an excellent toothpick. At the front were their tincan-wearing leaders. A goat, dressed in shimmering armor, emblazoned with the symbol of his god. (Oh, how I look forward to the day when that god slides into me!) And beside him, a squirrel. Her armor was dingier, but no less effective: she seemed to simply prefer substance over style. They encountered no traps on the way up towards my lair. At least, none they could see, or notice. But a subtle dab of pheromones here, a certain blooming, aphrodisiac-flower there… it’s much more fun to prime my guests for play than to rend them to pieces with spikes. How could they entertain me, if they were naught but a corpse? In time, they reached my lair. The paladin called out to me as they crossed the threshold, challenging me to a fight. Happily, I obliged, my wings unfolding as I rose. Their paladin began to launch into a boring rant of some sort or another. After the tenth time, I’ve just stopped paying attention— instead, I took the time to strike. As I lunged, I whipped my head and tongue sideways, stinging the squirrel’s fluffy tail as my head passed over the party. She was simply an attack of opportunity, however. My jaws snapped down around my true target, my tongue coiling around the trapped feline as he slipped into the embrace of my maw. Oh, how beautifully he squirmed! I admit, I took a few liberties in the short time I had with him. The sweet, spiced flavor his reagents added to his fur, the way he gasped and wriggled… I simply couldn’t help myself. My tongue ground and rubbed against him, wriggling up under his robe, grinding against his sheath, sliding between his rumpcheeks. I imagine it was quite difficult for him to try to cast in those conditions, given the way I started spearing him with my tongue. I’m quite certain those howls and groans I heard weren’t somatic components. I didn’t focus solely on him, of course! One doesn’t become the perfect predator without being able to multitask. Even as I drew the mage into my mouth, I heard the clatter of the collapsing fighter’s armor slamming into the floor, my paralytic toxin taking effect. The paladin cried out, and rushed towards his fallen comrade, only to meet my forepaw. I batted him like a cat with a ball of yarn, sending the so-called servant of the gods tumbling away from his comrades. The shaman, or druid, she simply stared, wide eyes, frozen in place. I allowed myself a smirk, though with my cheeks bulging of squirming, gasping mage, I am loathe to admit it was likely not as intimidating as I would have liked. I stepped over the collapsed fighter, I swept my tail downwards, its soft, fluffy form coiling around her body, lifting her upwards. Her face was soon pressed against my tailhole—and then sliding inside, pulled into the hot, velvety depths. I cooed happily around my mouthful of magician, feeling her armored shoulders easily squeezing through my tailhole. She would slip in quickly, the start of a winding journey—one that would send her to the same fate as the spellcaster. Alas, I would feel the need to speed up her trip—it was only fair she be allowed to meet her ally, deep within me! Ah, he was an easy one. Just as I had started to begin toying with him in earnest, loops of my tongue coiling around his quivering member and wriggled my tongue-tip deeper into his rear, he peaked. I felt the warm splatter of his thick seed against my tongue, adding a salty, musky flavor to the already delectable, saliva-drenched magician. Would that I could have savored him longer, drawn out his pleasure, teased and tormented him until he was begging me to devour him—but alas, time was not a luxury I had at the moment. I suppose I could have dropped him into my pouch, but what came next was ever-so much more fun. As the paladin hauled himself to his feet, I tilted my head back, wedging the mage rump-first into the rear of my throat, folding him in half. And then, displaying my throat to the holy warrior, I swallowed. He watched as the large, wriggling bulge of his friend slithered down my neck, vanishing completely as it passed my shoulders. I could feel the mage squeezing into my stomach, greeted by a slimy, gooey massage. At the same time, I \*tugged\* with my rear, hauling the squirrel-fighter’s waist deep within me. I imagine the paladin had a particularly unique vantage point—he could see, between my legs, the tail of his other comrade pull upwards and out of sight as she slipped deep into my intestines. Though he wasn’t able to see my rear close around her tail, drawing it slowly in like a strand of fluffy spaghetti, he had to know that was what I had done. Ah, paladins. They are always so easy to taunt! He howled as he hefted his massive sword in both hand, screaming curses that would make a nymph blush as he hurled himself towards me. I took a deep breath as I dropped my head down, smiling wide as the paladin charged at me, eyes blazing with fury. And I breathed. Other draconic beings have such crude breath weapons. Fire. Lightning. Acid. Cold. Poison gas. Mine is like none of these. Mine is the sweetness of a spring wind, the scent of a lover’s hair, and also laden to the brim with pheromones of every sort and shape, all of them blasting into the ram’s nostrils. He wavered for a moment, as my scent pushed its way to his core, dredging up what I imagined must have been every carnal lust he’d ever had, every desire he’d buried and cast aside in devotion of his god. My appeal clashed with his burning faith, with the wisdom in his heart. And wisdom must have been something he was low on, because he succumbed in a heartbeat, sagging to his knees as his weapon fell with a clatter. He was mine. And the feeling of the squirrel having squeezed against my prostate, the way she was slithering so wonderfully through my intestines… the feel of the feline, struggling, shoving… the knowledge of what I’d ultimately do to the quartet of adventurers… To say I was excited would have been an understatement. I flopped sideways before him, displaying my massive, rigid phallus, glistening in the air, free of its sheathe. “Strip.” I whispered, batting my eyelashes at him, and the ram shuddered once, before beginning to scramble out of his armor, dropping it to the floor with a clatter. How on earth he had been able to get a hard-on in there and not gasp in pain is beyond me, but soon the short-haired, muscled lad was naked before me, his body quivering with desire. Movement out of the corner of my eye reminded me of the fear-frozen druid, and I swore beneath my breath for my own carelessness. Glancing towards her, though, I saw she was merely drawing slightly closer. There were no words, no spells, simply a frightened, entranced otter, moving closer. Now, by this point, the mage had been within sweltering, slime-coated guts for a few minutes, pushing and grinding against the hot flesh as it squeezed in about him, offering him little room to move. The squirrel, too, had been dragged through my intestines at a brisk pace, gooey, textured walls hugging her armored form and urging her deeper, even as slime and goo soaked through the joints in her armor, her body stretching those tight tunnels so wonderfully. I could feel her head beginning to push into my stomach soon afterwards, which is fortunate. You see, diary, sometimes my breath has… well, a bit of a backdraft, and I sometimes swallow some of it. It doesn’t affect me, of course, but if there’s people in my guts— I haven’t the foggiest how that squirrel managed to get out of her armor, but she must have. Because I soon feel a rhythmic thumping, the steady, rocking beat within my grinding, squeezing stomach. One last hurrah, before they became a part of my beautiful form—such a fitting way for them to go! It made what I did to the paladin all the more fun. I plucked him up with my fingertips, and placed the pheromone-drenched goat upon my soft underbelly, my stiff, dribbling phallus pointed tip-first towards him. “Feet first.” Those were the only commands he needed—with a happy, groaning hiss, I felt his bare toes slide inside that sensitive flesh. They were soon joined by his ankles and legs, making the tiniest of bulges in my shaft as he fed himself to my cock, pre oozing out around him. My tail flailed as he squeezed himself deeper, and I rested a clawed fingertip upon his head, slowly urging him inwards. The goat let out a heavy, shuddering groan as his own waist dipped past my hungry tip, his body shuddering as my shaft engulfed his own, pinning sensitive flesh to a sticky-slick belly. He stiffened as he gasped, peaking within me, releasing just as I would soon release all that was left of him… By now, the otter was at my side, peering upwards, watching, staring, as I fed the goat to myself in such an unconventional manner. I cocked an eyebrow—or, tried to, but it is ever-so-hard to look aloof when you’ve got half a goat wriggling down your cock. Still, I grinned at her through heavy, ragged breathing, plucking her from the floor to place upon my belly. “You’ve… nnnn realized, haven’t you? As a student of nature, you must be able to recognize a top predator when you see one…” And the otter just nodded, her cheeks flushed. So curious, so fortuitous! I’m quite certain I hadn’t hit her with my breath weapon. Still, even if she planned treachery, there was little she could do. Not with her companions as they were. My hand clamped down atop her, pinning her to my belly, pressing her against the wriggling bulge of the cat and the squirrel. “Mm, you feel them?” I purred, arching my back as the goat’s chest slid in with a wet squelch, his arms slipping above his head. “You’re gonna… fell them melt within me. Feel make them what they ought to be.” The otter let out a squeal, a weak, muffled protest—but I pressed her a little harder, and I felt her shiver, felt her squirm. Her face was towards the goat, and she could do naught but watch as his head slipped from view, the tip of my phallus ringing it, and then engulfing it completely. His arms followed soon after, and with a final, quiet plip, his fingertips slid completely out of sight, that bulge of his form slithering into my depths. I could feel the writhing, twisting bulge push down into my sac, and I could imagine him plopping down into a thick, goopy puddle of fluids, my body squeezing in as it began to work on him. I could have taken my time, let him stew, let him melt slowly, but sometimes it is hard not to wish to show off. Especially when I have a captive audience! With one paw still pinning the otter to my churning belly, the other began to stroke and glide along my member, clawtips gently teasing and stroking along my flesh. Within, I could feel the goat as my sac clenched around him, eagerly churning and melting him, his well-defined form quickly starting to goop and ooze away, melting down into more of my seed. And in my stomach, the squirrel and cat were similarly losing definition, that stiff, rhythmically rocking bulge beneath the otter slowly becoming a softer, gooey mass as their flesh oozed painlessly away, their bodies intertwining and melting together in a churning mush of ecstasy. I have quite a lot of stamina, when I wish to, but I know how to tease myself up. With a howl, I climaxed, my gut and sac clenching, ending the adventurers entirely. My member quivered, and then spurted ropes of sticky, gooey seed all over my own belly—and upon the captive otter-lass, coating us both in the glistening remains of what had once been the pious paladin, now just a sticky mess of spooge. Slowly, I lifted my paw off of the spunked otter, a few thick strands dribbling onto her as I smiled. She was shivering and panting, and even through the powerful scent of my own seed, I could smell the fear, and the desire. “You know, now, what’s going to happen?” I asked, and she nodded. Gently, I placed a claw beneath her chin, tilting her head up to face me. “Are you ready, then? To join your friends? To become part of the apex predator, as nature has intended?” She shook her head, paused, and then nodded very slowly, very faintly, another shudder sliding through her. “Good.” Gently, I placed her back upon the cold stone floor of my lair, and she looked up at me, her brow furrowed. I sat up, doubling up my body as I reached between my rear legs—how I loved my flexibility! —and parted my lower folds, purring softly. “One entrance has been neglected so far, and I don’t intend to keep it that way. Come, daughter of nature, and take your place within me.” She stared for a few moments into that pink, glistening tunnel I presented her with, staring into the endless folds of soft, silken flesh. She could, I’m certain, see how damp I was already, see the strands of fluid connecting one wall to another, see my engorged, throbbing nub. I could hear her inhale sharply through her nose, ears fluttering for a moment… and then she stepped forwards, giving my nub a quick, gentle kiss. It sent a thrill of pleasure through me, a pleasant, tingling jolt of electricity. She smiled, shivering, shaking as she backed up, pulling away from my parted folds—and then, with a shout, she sprinted forwards, her paws leaving the floor as she leapt, her arms outstretched as though diving shallowly into a river. I admit, for all my wisdom, it was not what I had expected her to do. She hit my tunnel and slipped in deep, her slickened, streamlined form vanishing in an instant, pushing deep into my nethers with a loud squelch. I tensed, and howled as she started to wriggle and kick lightly, her tiny claws gliding and sliding against my sensitive inner flesh. It was ecstasy. My eager loins clenched around her, pushing her deep into my body, embracing her in the stifling heat. She made it to my womb within moments, pushing out into that spongey, more spacious chamber, plopping down into a puddle of warm, slippery fluids. I would take my time, melting her down. The way she wriggled, and kissed, and stroked the walls around her, the way she occasionally seemed to try to fight her way back out, the way she thrashed and groaned and shouted and prayed—I kept her, the whole of the day. Even now, I can still feel her, faintly, almost melted within me. Even now, she wriggles and moves, driving me higher towards excitement as I look back on the day’s conquests. Oh dear, I can feel that peak rising as she pushes, so trapped, so completely within my power. And what drives me higher is the knowledge that she’s the last of the party, what with the remnants of the mage and warrior filtering through my guts, absorbing into very body. What pulls me closer still, is the knowledge that in just a few moments, she’s… she’s going to… She’s going to be just a slippery puddle, a glistening mess on the floor of my cave. Hah, I think I even spot some of her bangles in the puddle, glittering in the candle light. I do imagine some of these are magical—I’ll have to take a look at them later. July 9th, 5th Year after the 200 Years War. I released what was left of the warrior and the mage into one of the farmer’s fields last night. Most of it was corroded to hell and back, but her sword still seemed pristine, so I carefully plucked it out and rinsed it off. It’s always nice to get a few extra enchanted items out of a snack. The mage’s and druid’s staves will also prove useful. If any of the rest of it was magic… well, let some peasant find it in his field. Perhaps that will give them the belief they can challenge me! It is so much fun, toying with them when they try that. Ah, such a shame that this reminds me that their souls still fly free, off to reincarnation, or whatever final destination awaits them. For all of my desires, I am perhaps not yet the most perfect of predators. But some day, I shall be. Someday, I shall make the world, the gods, the afterlives, utterly mine. All ensconced within me, devoured, held, and treasured, flesh and soul and mind, all placed where they belong. And then there’s you. Such an adorable sneak you are! Oh yes, I do mean you, little one, reading this ensorcelled diary. Perhaps you didn’t notice when you first started pawing through my logs, but this section was blank but a few moments ago. Why else would I describe myself in such detail? In case some silly little mage struck me with a powerful mind blast, and I forgot who I was? Hardly. I wanted to be sure you knew what was in store for you. So you’d know who you’d be. For the transformation to come. Are you sure, after all, that that’s really the wind on the back of your neck, that soft, warm breeze? Perhaps the scent reminds you of spring. Ah, I bet you can hear me now, shifting from my hiding spot in my hoard as I creep closer. Don’t fret, little one. Even if you run, I’ll take good care of you. I’ll make sure you wind up where you were meant to be.