A tale of two dragons

By Strega

It was an ordinary enough day for the druid and his badger companion.  Ordinary enough until the dragon showed up, anyway.

The druid spent much of his time on a circuit of five small towns, riding on Thistlefur as the big badger trundled down the rutted dirt roads.  She was not fast but she had endurance, and eventually they'd arrive at a village and see who needed what done.  Crops and animals always needed tending to, babies sometimes needed help being born, injured people might need to be healed or someone might need folk medicine made. The druid was good at all these things and he was a familiar face, well trusted by the locals.  He'd spend a few hours and some spells helping people, accept whatever they could afford to give him and spend the night sleeping atop a warm, furry badger.

If the weather was nasty they might be offered the use of a barn.  Thistlefur could dig out a sheltering burrow in minutes with her strong claws but a village rarely needed or wanted a badger hole big enough for a cart to tumble into, though she was occasionally employed as an earth-mover when someone needed a basement dug.

Thistlefur was a favorite with the local children and would lie dozing as the little ones played hide-and-seek in her long flank fur or pulled at her tail.  It was well known that bandits and various monsters routinely ended up inside the big badger, but she was nothing but well mannered when in town as long as no one did anything too threatening.

Several of the villages were more than a day's badger-walk apart and other times the druid was not in a social mood, so he spent at least half his nights alone save for his loyal mount.  It was as he was building a small fire to cook his meal of vegetables and dried meat that he looked up to see a great shadow eclipsing the stars.

His staff was in his hand and Thistlefur bristled and snarled as the dragon landed with a rush of wings only fifty feet away.  Before he could decide whether to cast a spell or run it made a placating gesture.

"Peace," the dragon hissed.  "And greetings.  I've seen you from above enough times, it was only fair you get to see me as well."

Thistlefur had a marvelous sense when it came to detecting hostility and when the badger calmed down the druid lowered his staff.  He looked the dragon over and saw large horns that curved back along its neck, huge armor scutes and a multitude of pointed scales that made it resemble a very large alligator lizard.  It was a Copper dragon, and metallic dragons were most often benevolent, so the druid relaxed a little. It helped that it was small as dragons go, not even as big as Thistlefur.

Still, it was a dragon, and that commands respect.  "Good evening," said the druid. "I didn't know there was a Copper in the area.  I've heard there is a Green somewhere to the north, but I thought she was the only one. Dragon that is," the druid added hastily.

"She?", it hissed, canting its head to the side.

"Oh yes," said the druid, warming to the conversation.  "A friend of mine had an encounter with her and she is definitely female."

The druid scratched Thistlefur behind the ear as the dragon considered this. After a moment he continued.  "She's quite a bit larger than you are, though."

"Mm," the dragon pondered.  "Well, I'll keep an eye out. I'm not here to get into a fight.  My territory's to the south. But moving on...what an unusual pet you have! I've never seen such a large dire badger."

The druid smiled.  He was always happy to talk about his companion.  "Thistlefur is unique," he said, scratching her behind the ear as she leaned into the attention. "I raised her from a cub and spent time and magic helping her become what she is today."

"She's very friendly," hissed the dragon, stroking its claws along her back like a comb.  To the druid's embarrassment she reacted by turning her rump toward the dragon and flagging her tail upward.

"Very friendly," the dragon repeated, also taken aback.

"Sorry about that," the druid said.  "In the absence of similarly sized badger males, well, Thistle seeks other lovers." He didn't mention that he was one such.
"Do you mind if I-" said the dragon, whose foreclaw had already stroked down over Thistle's haunch and beneath her tail. Before the druid could reply Thistlefur did it for him, chattering excitedly and backing up into the grope. With a wet squelch the dragon's claw and much of a foreleg disappeared into the badger's sex and the dragon had to backpeddle furiously  on three legs to avoid being knocked over by the excited beast.

"Goodness," the dragon hissed, and muscles worked beneath its (his?) scaly hide as it extracted his foreleg.  The badger's sex relinquished  lthe limb only reluctantly and it had to tug three times with considerable force before there was a long slurping sound and a pop as its now-wet foreclaw reappeared.

"What a strong grip she has," the dragon said wonderingly.  "She must be very horny."

"Now hold on," the druid said as the dragon lowered his muzzle.  "You really shouldn't--"

But it was too late.  The dragon's snout touched sensitive flesh and Thistlefur instantly heaved backward.  The all too familiar squelching noise sounded and the dragon's entire head, along with several feet of scaly neck, vanished into the badger's expanded sex.

"Damn it Thistle," groaned the druid, who had seen this before. Sure enough she backed up, and the dragon stood briefly braced on all fours, not realizing what was happening.  The gave Thistle something to push against and the remainder of the dragon's neck vanished in a long slide. Her rump and stretched sex thumped into the thicker chest and the dragon stumbled, sitting down just in time for her to follow suit and thrust her rump toward the ground.

It was exactly as the druid had feared.  There was no reasoning with the badger when she was this aroused and there was nothing she liked better than scales rubbing her tender nethers.  He'd fed her sex more than one adventurer in scale armor to sate her lust and the the dragon was a bigger, better version of that. She hissed like a teakettle, her flanks shuddering as her lust built, and powerful vaginal muscles sucked the dragon into her sex all the way to its haunches.

Make that his haunches, for the purplish tip of a leg-sized dragon penis was visible for a moment before it was sucked in as well.  The dragon's forelegs and wings were pinned against his flanks and barring a miracle, haunches and hind legs and scaly tail would soon follow. The dragon was going where a centaur, a horse or three and a few dozen humanoids of various species had gone before, sucked into the wet folds of Thistlefur's hungry pussy.

The druid had no wish for a friendly dragon to meet a gurgling digestive end in the badger's snatch.  It had done nothing to him and he'd rather enjoyed their conversation.  More important than that was the fact that it wasn't an weaponless centaur or disarmed bandit being sucked in. The dragon was strong and armed with four paws full of dagger-sharp claws, plus fangs and a breath weapon!  There was no telling what injury it could do to poor Thistle before it died.  It might even claw its way out.

"Think, think," said the druid, forcing down panic for the sake of his companion. "Copper dragon spits acid.  Protection From Acid," he said, and cast the spell on Thistlefur.  That should absorb most of the damage if he dragon used its breath weapon.  Didn't Coppers have another breath weapon? Some sort of gas? He wasn't sure he remembered correctly, but he cast Slow Poison on her as well.  

Thistlefur was still humping back against an imaginary mate and by the time he looked up from his spellcasting there was nothing left of the copper dragon but a set of hindpaws, folds of wing skin and a long scaly tail.  The badger shuddered, hissing her lust, and her sex twitched and folded in on itself as the hindpaws and part of the tail were pulled in. A dragon more than half her size had been almost wholly swallowed by her sex, and her belly swelled and shivered as her prey sought to escape.

There was nothing he could do to save the dragon without killing Thistlefur, and that was not going to happen. The druid watched for any sign of pain and prepared himself to cast his strongest healing spell.  It wouldn't be the first time he healed her as someone attacked her womb from the inside, but it'd never been a dragon before!  He could only hope he could heal the injuries the dragon dished out until suffocation and her digestive juices turned it, like many another, into food for her bulky musteline body.

Yet she showed no signs of distress, chattering to herself as her lust faded. Normally her sex stopped pulling at prey by now but the dragon's tail and the last folds of its wings continued to be drawn inward.  The sharp scales on the tail provoked a series of hisses as little orgasms followed the large one and it was a very relaxed badger sprawled out in front of the druid when the last yard of dragon tail disappeared with a long wet slurp.

For lack of anything better to do the druid rubbed his mount's furry  forehead affectionately.  "Well, Thistle honey, I guess you got out of that with a whole skin. But darn it, we can't have this keep happening.  First that centaur and now a dragon!"

Thistlefur's pussy twitched. He'd heard it belch out ingested air before but never so loudly. Nothing so large had ever disappeared into it before. Half her weight or more of dragon, at least a ton of muscle and scales, fangs and claws, was curled up in the digestive space that had once been a womb.

"I guess you must have broken his neck when you sat on him," the druid mused. "Otherwise he'd have torn you apart."

Thistlefur churred, pawing at the grass, and the druid was surprised to see her sex twitch again.  She chattered, shivering through another small orgasm, and another, her powerful claws digging into the moist earth beneath the grass. The druid had never seen this happen before and to his utmost astonishment the lips of her sex parted to reveal a coppery muzzle.

"That was great!", the dragon exclaimed, and wriggled a foreclaw past his cheek. "You ought to charge for this!"

The druid watched bug-eyed as the dragon worked  his claw carefully free of Thistlefur's sex without scratching her, then reached out the long limb and dug claws into the bark of a tree near the badger's rump.

It took two full minutes for the dragon to pull himself from the badger's sex.  His scales scraped and stimulated Thistlefur and three more times her pussy rippled, trying to pull him back in.  She was exhausted from her passions, though, and her sex didn't have the strength it had shown when it swallowed him whole. Each time she clenched down it pulled the dragon partly back in and then relaxed, allowing the scaly beast to drag himself back out of its sucking wetness. The slurping noises were like nothing the druid had ever heard, even when her sex had swallowed the centaur.  Eventually the dragon's rump popped free and then it was easy for it to pull its long tail out.

The druid hadn't said a word the entire time, but confronted with a dragon dripping with badger juices from nose to tailtip he cleared his throat. "Don't take this the wrong way, I am overjoyed you are all right, but normally, when people go in there they don't come back out."

"Well, don't take -this- the wrong way," the dragon replied, "But while I am no expert on dire badgers, I doubt one can usually  eat a dragon with its sex.". It smiled.  "Or digest one with their womb.   If I'd stayed in there long enough that's just what would have happened, acid resistant scales or not."

"Well, that is," the druid said, and he sighed. "You're right of course.  It's a long story."

"Mm," the dragon said, and poked at the smouldering campfire with a claw.  "Cook your dinner and tell it to me, then."

"It was years ago," the druid began as he added herbs to the little cookpot.  "And it was another dragon who made it all happen...."

*****

He had only just grown powerful enough to make Thistlefur the beast she should be. A year before she'd been barely large enough for a child to ride on, but the druid knew what he wanted: a mount and companion to stay with him through his days, not one he would outgrow.  It took long slow applications of the druidic arts to permanently change a beast, not like the abrupt and often harmful changes a wizard would engineer. He took his time, studied his craft, and then began.

Each month when the moon was a waxing crescent he withdrew to his sheltered grove and worked his arts.  Carefully he wove the magic, not harshly altering Thistlefur, but making it simply natural that she grow larger.  Over the weeks until the next crescent moon he made sure she was well fed - even then bandits and monsters made good fare for her, albeit not swallowed whole as she would later.  In a month she doubled in weight, then over most of a year she doubled it again and yet again.

Now she was large enough to ride and he constructed a saddle and harness, but she wasn't quite what he thought she should be yet and so she continued to grow, albeit slowly.  By the next Midsummer Night's Eve she was large as a cart, healthy and strong, dwarfing any dire badger he'd ever seen.  She was, to the druid's thinking, perfect. He could still make her larger or smaller at will, but that was temporary. Her natural state now was as a two-ton badger, over fifteen feet from her nose to the tip of her short tail and with such long flank fur that she resembled an enormous sharp-muzzled turtle.

Other changes, well, those were largely the result of Riddlesmith.

He was a brass dragon from the deserts to the south, a well-traveled and well-liked visitor to the Wild Coast.  Unlike the dragon the druid would meet years later Riddlesmith was much larger even than fully grown Thistlefur, sixty-plus feet nose to tail tip and with a wingspan broader than that.  They had met at a county faire years before and once or twice a year the dragon would drop by for an evening's chat.  From him the druid learned much about the wider world, its nations, wizards and monsters, for he was a stay-at-home type who had never been more than fifty miles from his grove.  The were good friends, and Riddlesmith liked Thistlefur a great deal as well.  More than liked, it turned out.

One night the dragon stopped by as the druid and his badger were camped by the road, they chatted until after midnight, and the druid's sleep was interrupted some hours later by Riddlesmith noisily fucking Thistlefur.

The druid opened his eyes and kept opening them, gaping at the sight of a sixty-foot dragon arched over the big badger. Forward drove the dragon's hips and a penis almost the size of a man disappeared into the chattering badger, only to pull back and suck the lips of the sex with it. The various hooks and barbs on the massive organ were presumably there to stimulate a female dragon but Thistlefur liked them very much as well, hissing and clawing the ground as the dragon humped.

It went on for ages, Riddlesmith nipping at Thistlefur's nape and her clawing half-playfully at his armored hide, until the brass dragon finally arched and shuddered. His cock disappeared wholly into the badger and his tail broke saplings as it whipped back and forth.  With a long hissing roar the dragon came, remaining atop Thistlefur for another minute before reluctantly dismounting.

"What?" Said the dragon at the druid's look, and curled his muzzle down to lick himself as his shaft shrunk and withdrew into its slit.  "She was interested, and I was horny." Without another word he curled up and went to sleep, Thistlefur nestling close to his warm hide. Dragons, after all, weren't prone to apologize for much of anything, or to justifying themselves. 

The druid pondered his situation over the weeks that followed.  He couldn't just tell Riddlesmith to bugger off because, well, he was his friend..and a dragon. The next time the Brass showed up the druid was at a town market and Riddlesmith was considerate enough not to mount Thistlefur right there in front of everyone, but after a glance at the druid to get permission the badger did walk off with the dragon, returning hours layer to doze next to the blacksmithy with ruffled fur and a smug expression.  Clearly she was more than willing and in the absence of another mate for her it would be cruel to forbid it.

The first thing he worried about was the dragon's exotic endowment, which from what he'd seen barely fit into Thistlefur and was covered with dragony spikes that might hurt her. In an excess of enthusiasm Riddlesmith might do her a real injury.

That was easy to fix, fortunately.  Changing Thistlefur's size had been a labor of a whole year, but making comparatively minor alterations to her sex was simpler. It only took one night's work at his grove to render her more flexible there, and in a moment of inspiration he also rearranged some muscles so that when she grew excited her sex sucked and gripped and pulled.  There was a bit of enlightened self interest at work since the druid was  fonder of his mount than was perhaps proper and had been her lover, in human and animal shapes, when she was smaller.  He planned to get back to that once his druidic shape changing powers allowed him to become a large enough beast.

The result of his labors was a look of astonishment on Riddlesmith's face the next time he climbed atop Thistlefur, long snarls of pleasure, and a gem plucked from a brassy scale dropped into his hand before the dragon flew off about his business.
"Well then," said the druid as he turned the ruby over in his hand, "I guess I'm a pimp now."

The next problem was what was going to happen when Thistlefur inevitably came into heat.  The draft horse that mounted Thistlefur that one time wasn't a risk but a dragon definitely was. Dragons were notoriously fertile beasts who spawned a host of halfbreed young and he wasn't about to raise a litter of dragonbadgers.  Other druids made a good living selling animals but that seemed wrong to him.

After some thought he decided the best way to deal with gallons of dragon semen was to change Thistlefur's womb into what amounted to a second stomach.  Food - dragon goo for example - that ended up there would be digested and the resulting slurry of nutrients would be passed into her intestines to be absorbed. This was a radical change that would render her entirely barren until and unless he reversed it but was a guarantee he wouldn't wake up one morning and find she was pregnant thanks to the exuberant efforts of her dragon lover.

*****

"I didn't tell Riddlesmith," the druid said to the Copper.  "He might have worried that his dick would get digested and I didn't want to spoil his fun.  And it didn't spoil it.  Twice more that year he visited and the second time he asked when a badger's mating season was. He and she were having a wonderful time in each other's claws and I was trying to think how to tell him that she wasn't going to bear his young."

The Copper nodded.  "Most dragon hybrids happen because horny young dragons mate with whatever is available. Even mere beasts."

"Of course you didn't do anything like rub yourself against the side of her womb," said the druid to a young dragon. 

"Of course not," hissed the dragon with an innocent expression that the druid didn't believe for an instant. "And if I had, it would be digested, yes?"
"So Riddlesmith wondered when Thistlefur would be full of badgerdragons, and I didn't know what to do.  Change her back and lose my companion to a dragon lover and her new family?  Tell him it wasn't going to happen and maybe lose a friend, or even make a powerful dragon mad at me?"

The druid sighed.  "In the end neither of those things happened. If I'd stayed to fight...but then we wouldn't be having this conversation. I and Thistle would most likely be dead."

*****

They were called the Silver Shield Company, a band of adventurers who wandered the land hunting monsters and taking bounties.  They'd been through the Randsburg area before and their leader, a personable paladin with the group's eponymous silver round shield, was well known and well liked by several local rulers.

But Therialt, their leader, wasn't a paladin.  He was something darker.  The whole group wasn't as trustworthy as anyone thought and the first warning the druid had was one moonlit evening as Riddlesmith was humping Thistlefur and a fusillade of spells and arrows appeared out of the dark.

There was a lightning bolt of a sort he'd never seen or heard of that speared into Riddlesmith's side. Not only did much of its force communicate itself into Thistlefur through the thick wet rod of dragon cock, shocking her badly, but the bolt itself jumped from the dragon to the badger...and then to him, blowing him backward into a treetrunk.  A binding spell of some sort trapped the dragon's wings to its sides and a dark mass of necromantic energy burned into Riddlesmith's scales next to two well aimed arrows.

The flash from the bolt ruined the druid's night vision and only Riddlesmith seemed to know where the unseen attackers were, but the powerful dragon was already hurt. It spat a line of fire that burned away a swath of vegetation and for a moment the druid saw the Company, flame sluicing off their protective spells.  They had known exactly what they up against and were well prepared to face the Brass.
 
But Riddlesmith, though he couldn't fly, wasn't going down without a fight.  One claw scooped the stunned badger out from under him, rolling her toward the druid, and Riddlesmith snapped over his shoulder.

"Go!" He snarled, "Take her and go!"

*****

The druid poked at the fire without looking at the Copper.  "They killed him, of course.  They didn't even knew I was there.  They'd just hunted a dragon,  prepared their attack, and hit him while, as far as they knew, hewas fucking some random beast. They didn't care what color he was, just that he was a dragon.  And dragons are valuable."

He drew a line in the ashes of the fire with the butt of his druidic staff.  "I shrank Thistle as much as a could with a quick spell and got her to run off with me.  She was too stunned to realize her mate was dying to defend her. Riddlesmith should have run!  I would fight for Thistlefur.  She is my companion.  To him she was just a badger, but he cared enough about an animal, albeit a precious one," he paused to scratch the sleeping badger's cheek, "To stay and fight."

"There is pride too," the Copper said quietly.  "Pride killeth many a dragon. It probably never occurred to him, in that brief moments he had, that he might lose."

"I stopped a mile away, covering my tracks.  They didn't know I was there, I learned later, but even if they had no one can track a druid who doesn't want to be found.  From there I set up a camp and sent out animals to spy.  Mice, squirrels, bats, owls.  They couldn't fight, but they could watch as the Company cut up Riddlesmith's body for loot.  Spell components, things to use to make potions, armor, swords.  They took his heart," the butt of his staff stabbed into the ashes. "And his brain."

The Copper nodded.  "There are those that hunt us, 'tis true."

"There were five of them," said the druid.  "Two mages of different flavors, a dark priest, the 'paladin' Therialt, and some sort of thief-assassin. They laughed and joked as they cut Riddlesmith up, not caring he was benevolent.  He was just a treasure to them. They'd made a mistake," the druid said grimly.

"And they made another.  They stayed in my territory, most of the time.  They'd leave, come back for provisions, to train, to hunt.  They didn't know there was a druid watching them.  Someone with many friends, always watching.  Waiting for his chance."

"Every one of them was more skilled,  more powerful than I was.  Some were more powerful than I am now.  But they weren't friends.  They fought and argued and sometimes one would leave for a time.  The thief was, I thought, one of the more dangerous ones.  Subtle, smart. He might realize something was wrong if one of the others disappeared.  One night he wandered from a bar, in disguise, not knowing little eyes were watching.  Always watching. He was alive, awake, and bound in vines when I fed him to Thistlefur's pussy."

The Copper looked horrified for a moment, but not surprised. 

"She didn't know what he had done.  Only that I hated him.  She's a sweet thing, loving, loyal. Her only fault is her appetite. She enjoyed him very much. He was the first man her sex swallowed and it digested him as easily as it had Riddlesmith's cum.  He wasn't the last."

The copper dragon said nothing as the druid poked at the coals.  "It took three years to get them all.  The thief, then a mage sleeping in an inn by himself.  A mouse put sleeping powder in his drinking cup.  They started to get suspicious after that. They used a lot of magic.  Magic," the druid shrugged, "To hunt nature's servant? The trails all led nowhere.  Meanwhile the mage had fed Thistlefur. They tracked his gear to where I'd buried it, but I was miles away."

"They tortured villagers, thinking people were plotting against them. They set traps.  Mice see everything, you know.  Mice and rats and squirrels and bats.  Even bugs.  I was patient.  What they should have done was run.  I didn't dare take them on as a group, even with all the animals I could summon. Eventually they decided one of their own number was to blame.  Someone knew all their secrets. The blackguard killed the remaining mage.  The dark priest sank into quicksand that really shouldn't have been there.  I dug him out, alive, and into Thistlefur's pussy he went.  It just seemed appropriate, since they had taken her mate."

*****

The druid smiled as the badger's sex disgorged the silver shield.  Its leather lining and straps were digested away, but it and the plate armor were intact enough to sell.  He would bury them, wait a time to be safe, and do just that.

It had been three years since he rode Thistlefur down a country road in plain sight.  Three years of hiding, hunting, waiting.  Three years watching the Company, learning their ways.  After all that time he knew them well.  They were vile people, wandering murderers who killed for fun and profit.  All of them save one were part of Thistlefur now, swallowed alive.  One she'd eaten - she could swallow men with either end now - and  the others had fed her sex.  All had been digested and passed and careful use of druidic magic had concealed it all. Powerful as they were they'd disappeared into the woods.  It was not wise to anger nature's servant, not here in the wilderness.

Adventurers, he decided, were a luxury.  One the countryside could do without.  He would be out in the open now, helping the villagers, well known, perhaps well appreciated.  But he'd still be watching.  There was room in Thistlefur for more bad people, if needed.

And over the next ten years, other adventuring bands came to his lands.  Some were harmless, in his estimation, and were let be.  Others he tracked down, tricked, or subdued, and regardless of which orifice they entered Thistlefur's body through, the end result was the same. 


****

"There you have it," the druid muttered. "I am the villain of the piece.  Make of it what you will."

"How many?" The dragon hissed, and the druid shrugged.  

"If you count the bandits, the bounties--"

"No.  How many men and women who might not have deserved it? That you weren't sure about?"

The druid sighed.  "Thirty, maybe forty."

"I am Crookclaw," the copper dragon hissed, "I am a young dragon.  Small and weak by our standards.  I have killed at least a hundred such men.  Dragon hunters are common, we must be quick, clever and sometimes ruthless.  You are ruthless too, but I have watched you as I passed by. The villagers do not hate you.  You are a valued man.  Even your badger is welcome and trusted. The land has not been overrun by raiders because your badger ate a few men who may or may not have deserved it."

The druid looked up from his fire.  "So that's it?  All that and you forgive me?"
"Perhaps," the dragon hissed.  "What happened to the silver shield?"

"Still buried," the druid said.  "Too unusual.  I decided it not worth the risk to sell. The fate of the Silver Shield company has to remain a mystery."

"Give it to me," said the dragon.  "There is a dragoness who loves such things.  It will put me in her good graces, perhaps earn me a chance to mate."

"You want me to bribe you," the druid said with a smile.

"I am a dragon," said Crookclaw.  "We are all about bribes. Our hoards do not grow themselves."

The dragon made a slow gesture with a claw, leaving a glowing trail behind.  The druid recognized a minor protective spell, followed by a second.  Acid resistance to layer atop the dragon's already tough scales, and one to extend the time one's breath could be held.  A dragon could cast spells without such gestures, but it did it out in the open to tell him what was going to happen next.

"Enjoy your rest," the dragon hissed.  "We'll talk about it in the morning."

The druid unrolled the blankets he slept on when Thistlefur's warm belly was not available.  By the time he tamped down the fire Thistlefur had woken from her nap.  It wasn't easy falling asleep while a horny badger was sucking an equally aroused dragon into her sex, but he managed.