The usual drivel from the writer follows, feel free to skip to the *’s for the story proper.
This is probably the fastest, yet most annoying, thing I’ve ever written and is dedicated to ticklishdragon. The short version is after an awful day at work, I got home to a truly wonderful bit of feedback from her on one of my posts, my mind latched on to a few bits and pieces from her profile and sig as the basis for a story. Ayla, if you read this, I definitely owe you as well if you want to collect.
This is the result, a story based entirely in a fantasy world, not dissimilar to Tolkien’s middle earth, which shows just how you make a dragon. Oh, and sorry for any switches from writing in a Fantasy style to my normal ‘style’ <coughWhatStyle?cough>, did try to catch it but I know there’s a few areas it got through. And yes, that's where the annoying bit above came from.
Enjoy
**********************************************
Birth of the dragon
The world is changing, darkness sweeps over the lands and creatures long since forgotten have crept out from their ancient homes. War has begun in the east and is spreading, engulfing all it touches. A timeless evil has awoken, and even now seeks to grow his forces beyond those of his enemies. Captured and fallen foes have been taken and twisted into unnatural forms; the beauty and grace of the elves corrupted by his sorcery and tortures into creatures whose very existence pledges them to darkness. A new race, yet one that is already feared by elves and men alike, for they are strong, powerful and fast, almost invisible in the dark and fearless in battle.
Their lord has hidden himself in the darkness beneath the great mountains of the north, sitting on a dark throne at the centre of a maze of catacombs, a spider at the centre of its web. From this fortress he plans his campaign against the forces of light, knowing even now that victory is not yet assured, that the forces massing against his armies are too great and that something more is required to complete his conquest.
His throne room is at the heart of the mountain, and stretches upwards, reaching through miles of rock, the flickering light of torches fading long before the room emerges as a large crater at the mountains summit. From here he can command his forces, hear their thoughts and speak to them in kind. Raising his head he reaches out to the captain of the scouts, the first of all the Sh’krak created, the one with the most knowledge of the world before him and gives him a simple command: Find new victims for a new creation, one that will strike at the very heart of their adversaries and tear it apart. Not from the elves, but from amongst the race of humans will his ultimate weapon be born.
The Sh’krak raiding party moved to the edge of the forest, the human settlement an inviting target in the pre-dawn light. Five wood cabins, a small area set aside for crops, there would be little resistance here, and few would notice they had disappeared. The captain raised a clawed hand, paused, and brought it down. The Sh’krak leapt from their hiding places, rushing into the middle of the settlement as a pack before splitting. Four went to each cabin, forcing their way through the door and taking those inside completely by surprise. The fight was brief, the humans simply had no time to prepare or react to the attack and they were quickly beaten into submission, their hands tied behind them and their legs shackled before they were led out into the open.
The captain had his orders, and quickly moved through their prisoners, he needed only three of the twenty they had found, and then they had to be mature females. He did not know why, and he did not need to know, it was enough simply to obey. He pulled his chosen captives away from the others, and then gestured to the rest of the raiding party. As the three women were led away the other Sh’krak descended on the humans, their orders clear: Leave none alive.
It was almost a week’s ride to the hidden entrance to the catacombs, and anyone approaching it without adequate reason would have been dead long before they arrived. Traps both mechanical and magical were set for miles around the entrance, and hidden guard posts filled with the most vicious Sh’krak, bred specifically for this purpose, were sited on every approach and vantage point. The raiding party never entered the gate, handing over their prisoners then turning to return to their patrol route as quickly as possible.
The women were carried bodily through the maze of tunnels, their minds dulled now by a week of near starvation, thirst and fear. Two were taken into a cell, to await the results of the dark lords’ experiment; the other was taken to the throne room itself. There she was strapped to a stone block, her arms and legs stretched out, her clothes ripped from her body, and a strange dark liquid poured over her. The liquid seemed to soak into her body, leaving her as dry as she had been only seconds before.
She was left there, helpless and terrified for hours; the torches on the walls gradually flickered and died, leaving her alone in the darkness. After a long while a dim light seeped into the chamber from far above, a full moan was shining over the mountain and through the crater, allowing her to make out the vague outline of her own body and the chains that held her.
After what seemed like an eternity the door was opened and a line of men were driven into the chamber. Obviously prisoners here like her, they were all bedraggled, pale and gaunt from their exertions in the service of the dark lord. A Sh’krak entered behind them and unrolled a scroll.
“I am the mouth of the dark lord, hear his words and rejoice, for tonight you will create the greatest of all creatures in his name. Just as the grace and beauty of the elves was changed into the perfection of the Sh’krak, so will we take the innocence and purity of this sacrifice and turn it into something more than it is, release the darkness that sleeps in the human soul, and all will tremble before it.”
His message delivered, the Sh’krak stepped forward towards the bound woman, and quickly forced a wide leather strap into her mouth, gagging any sounds she might have made. The men were moved forward, twelve in total, standing in pairs on either side of her body, their hands raised over her skin. The Sh’krak waited a moment; making one final check that everything was in place, then spoke one word:
“Begin”
At the signal all twelve men dropped their hands on to her body and started poking and probing her skin. Her eyes went wide as she realised what was going to happen, knowing her fate at last and realising it eclipsed every horror she had imagined. The men’s faces were blank as they concentrated on their task, each moving their hands in their own particular way, no two exactly alike as the explored the limits of her ticklishness.
She was already lost, her head thrown back, eyes staring at the inky blackness above her, the moon capturing her attention as it winked down from high above. Her body was racked with laughter as the torture grew, the lighter, almost teasing touches slowly giving way to harder, more insistent motions. She was gasping for air behind the gag, her hands clawing at the air, every muscle taught against the grip of the chains. Someone started running his fingers over her naked breasts and she screamed from the unexpected rush of sensations the wandering fingers evoked. The touch was repeated, harder and faster this time and she gasped despite herself. Her body was screaming for mercy now, desperate for a chance to regain its equilibrium, but a small part of her would welcome more of that sort of torture, a wish that was soon granted as a second, then a third pair of hands started moving over her breasts.
Gradually the other hands stopped their movement until all that remained was that light, wonderful torment on her breasts, exciting her despite her best intentions, and she raised up as best she could, trying to encourage their touches. As if that was a signal, all of the hands pulled back and stopped their activity, leaving her gasping and writhing in her bonds, desperate for more. She focused on the nearest man and saw he was standing impassively by her, all trace of humanity removed from his face, his soul had long since departed in this place, leaving only the form of a human. There would be no help, no rescue from any of these creatures, they existed only to serve the darkness now.
They gave her barely two minutes before moving back to her body. This time the pair at her shoulders started tickling her armpits, while the rest stood with their hands hovering over her skin, waiting for their turn. This time there was no gradual build-up, but an all out attack, twenty fingers scrabbling and scratching in her armpits, the skin stretched taught by her bonds. She howled with laughter, wrenching her head from side to side, searching for any give in the chains to let her move away from her torturers assault, even if only for a second.
After a few minutes the two at her shoulders stopped and the next pair started their own attack. This time their fingers found her ribs and stomach, dancing up and down her vulnerable body like spiders on a web, driving her insane. One of them dipped a finger into her belly button and started to tickle the delicate, untouched skin. She nearly levitated off the stone then, her entire body rigid as her shriek managed to pierce the gag, echoing off the walls of the chamber.
Again they stopped, and again the next set of hands took up the challenge, this time around her waist and hips. These two were alternating their touch, as one would dig into her right hip, she would swivel away, raising the right hand side of her body up from the stone only for the man on the other side to commence his own attack. For nearly five minutes they continued this approach, all the time sapping her remaining strength, her movements getting less with each passing second.
The attack was continued by the fourth pair of men, skittering their fingers over her thighs, running over every inch of her skin, coming at times with a hairs breadth of touching her pussy but always managing to avoid the touch some part of her craved. She was nearly still now, running at the very limit of her energy, the only movement occasional twitches from her body, and the slow clenching and unclenching of her hands above her head.
The fifth pair concentrated on her knees, creating complex patterns of swirls and strokes around and over the skin, yet despite the agony this was causing in her abused body, all she could do now was lie on the stone and accept her fate, a constant shrill laughter effectively muffled by the gag, her head lolling backwards now that she lacked the strength even to hold that up.
By the time the final pair started on her feet she was barely able to laugh, her breath coming in short shallow gasps, her throat red raw and burning. For long minutes those terrible fingers danced over her soles and toes, scraping and prodding every inch of her flesh, scratching in between her toes, stroking down the length of her foot. Yet all that she could do was lie still, her mind reeling from the sensations coursing through her but with no way to react to them.
The moon above her seemed to grow larger, as if it were dropping down through the mountain towards her; her gaze was now locked on it like a moth to a flame. Almost without her realising it every one of the men dropped their hands on to her body and began the final assault on their victim. The two at her hips lent over her body and began to gently, almost tenderly, caress her pussy, tickling her mound, and then gently teasing her clit, sending shockwaves through her body.
With those sensations a new feeling started to fill her, one of power, rising up like a wave within her, a dark tide that must consume her. The moon above was now so large it blocked out the room, the light poured into her eyes, and finally the wave broke. As she reached her climax her mind seemed to explode, dashing in every direction at once, that constant glare from the moon as filling her eyes, her heart, her soul. As her mind shut down, her final thought echoed in the depths of her soul: “So this is death…”
She shuddered and her body seemed to ripple in its bonds. Her hands and feet seemed to stretch, her skin changing as the men looked on blankly. Within seconds what was on the stone no longer held any resemblance to a human being, it was growing quickly, every part of the body seeming to stretch out, the head becoming long, tapered, teeth growing long and sharp. Her hands and feet changed into claws, her body became thicker, more muscled.
There was a brief groaning from the chains then they were ripped from their mountings, the shackles popping off almost immediately after, hopelessly inadequate to contain the creature now rising in the middle of the chamber. As it stood on it’s four strong legs, its skin seemed to harden, becoming stronger than the best armour in a matter of seconds. The creature threw its head back and screamed, as huge wings seemed to explode from its back, stretching out almost to the edges of the throne room.
It stood still for a moment, then saw the people before it and reacted to the need coursing through it. Within a minute it had consumed all twelve, feeling their bodies fuel it, their energy mixing with its own in a rush of power, of near ecstasy for this new creature. It looked up and with barely a thought rose off the ground, almost gliding upwards to the moon above, towards its destiny.
It exploded from the top of the mountain, flame licking from its great jaws as it experienced the joy of freedom for the first time. It soared in the night sky, higher and higher until it could see to the edges of the world. There, far off in the distance, its eyes made out the flicker of torches, as the war for the future of the land raged on. In its head the voice of the dark lord rose, the command simple. Go forth and destroy.
But something in the beast made it pause, its mind racing as it struggled to come to terms with its own creation. It knew, instinctively, that it was the strongest, most fearsome beast in this world, and that it was one of a kind. It knew it was almost indestructible and could feel the effects of the darkness even now, strengthening it, rendering it timeless, ageless. It could remember nothing from before its awakening, save one memory. Terror, deep, dark and endless, a pool in which it could drown and never escape. And it knew, in that moment, who had made it feel that way, and who could do it again if given the chance.
With a speed that seemed impossible for its size, the creature turned in the sky and dropped to edge of the crater. With one breath it sent a tongue of flame licking deep into the inner sanctum of the dark lord, it’s creator and the one thing in this land that may be able to destroy it. The flame seemed to continue forever, and those who saw the mountain that night said it was as if a volcano had erupted. It only stopped its attack when the flames it sent out were meeting those being fed from below, when all traces of the dark lord had been scorched away.
Then it turned and lifted into the sky, gazing once more at the battle far away. Even from this distance the signs of chaos were obvious, the forces of light driving their enemies back, carving through their ranks with ease now that their driving force was destroyed. In its mind the creature laughed as it turned and headed further north, into the wilderness. It needed time to learn, to grow and nurture itself, but that was one thing it would never be short of. It would take all the time it needed, and when it returned it would be to rule this land.
She glided through the skies, her great eyes picking out even the smallest detail below her as she flew.
She was the first of the Dragons
She was the last of the Dragons
And the world was hers.
This is probably the fastest, yet most annoying, thing I’ve ever written and is dedicated to ticklishdragon. The short version is after an awful day at work, I got home to a truly wonderful bit of feedback from her on one of my posts, my mind latched on to a few bits and pieces from her profile and sig as the basis for a story. Ayla, if you read this, I definitely owe you as well if you want to collect.
This is the result, a story based entirely in a fantasy world, not dissimilar to Tolkien’s middle earth, which shows just how you make a dragon. Oh, and sorry for any switches from writing in a Fantasy style to my normal ‘style’ <coughWhatStyle?cough>, did try to catch it but I know there’s a few areas it got through. And yes, that's where the annoying bit above came from.
Enjoy
**********************************************
Birth of the dragon
The world is changing, darkness sweeps over the lands and creatures long since forgotten have crept out from their ancient homes. War has begun in the east and is spreading, engulfing all it touches. A timeless evil has awoken, and even now seeks to grow his forces beyond those of his enemies. Captured and fallen foes have been taken and twisted into unnatural forms; the beauty and grace of the elves corrupted by his sorcery and tortures into creatures whose very existence pledges them to darkness. A new race, yet one that is already feared by elves and men alike, for they are strong, powerful and fast, almost invisible in the dark and fearless in battle.
Their lord has hidden himself in the darkness beneath the great mountains of the north, sitting on a dark throne at the centre of a maze of catacombs, a spider at the centre of its web. From this fortress he plans his campaign against the forces of light, knowing even now that victory is not yet assured, that the forces massing against his armies are too great and that something more is required to complete his conquest.
His throne room is at the heart of the mountain, and stretches upwards, reaching through miles of rock, the flickering light of torches fading long before the room emerges as a large crater at the mountains summit. From here he can command his forces, hear their thoughts and speak to them in kind. Raising his head he reaches out to the captain of the scouts, the first of all the Sh’krak created, the one with the most knowledge of the world before him and gives him a simple command: Find new victims for a new creation, one that will strike at the very heart of their adversaries and tear it apart. Not from the elves, but from amongst the race of humans will his ultimate weapon be born.
The Sh’krak raiding party moved to the edge of the forest, the human settlement an inviting target in the pre-dawn light. Five wood cabins, a small area set aside for crops, there would be little resistance here, and few would notice they had disappeared. The captain raised a clawed hand, paused, and brought it down. The Sh’krak leapt from their hiding places, rushing into the middle of the settlement as a pack before splitting. Four went to each cabin, forcing their way through the door and taking those inside completely by surprise. The fight was brief, the humans simply had no time to prepare or react to the attack and they were quickly beaten into submission, their hands tied behind them and their legs shackled before they were led out into the open.
The captain had his orders, and quickly moved through their prisoners, he needed only three of the twenty they had found, and then they had to be mature females. He did not know why, and he did not need to know, it was enough simply to obey. He pulled his chosen captives away from the others, and then gestured to the rest of the raiding party. As the three women were led away the other Sh’krak descended on the humans, their orders clear: Leave none alive.
It was almost a week’s ride to the hidden entrance to the catacombs, and anyone approaching it without adequate reason would have been dead long before they arrived. Traps both mechanical and magical were set for miles around the entrance, and hidden guard posts filled with the most vicious Sh’krak, bred specifically for this purpose, were sited on every approach and vantage point. The raiding party never entered the gate, handing over their prisoners then turning to return to their patrol route as quickly as possible.
The women were carried bodily through the maze of tunnels, their minds dulled now by a week of near starvation, thirst and fear. Two were taken into a cell, to await the results of the dark lords’ experiment; the other was taken to the throne room itself. There she was strapped to a stone block, her arms and legs stretched out, her clothes ripped from her body, and a strange dark liquid poured over her. The liquid seemed to soak into her body, leaving her as dry as she had been only seconds before.
She was left there, helpless and terrified for hours; the torches on the walls gradually flickered and died, leaving her alone in the darkness. After a long while a dim light seeped into the chamber from far above, a full moan was shining over the mountain and through the crater, allowing her to make out the vague outline of her own body and the chains that held her.
After what seemed like an eternity the door was opened and a line of men were driven into the chamber. Obviously prisoners here like her, they were all bedraggled, pale and gaunt from their exertions in the service of the dark lord. A Sh’krak entered behind them and unrolled a scroll.
“I am the mouth of the dark lord, hear his words and rejoice, for tonight you will create the greatest of all creatures in his name. Just as the grace and beauty of the elves was changed into the perfection of the Sh’krak, so will we take the innocence and purity of this sacrifice and turn it into something more than it is, release the darkness that sleeps in the human soul, and all will tremble before it.”
His message delivered, the Sh’krak stepped forward towards the bound woman, and quickly forced a wide leather strap into her mouth, gagging any sounds she might have made. The men were moved forward, twelve in total, standing in pairs on either side of her body, their hands raised over her skin. The Sh’krak waited a moment; making one final check that everything was in place, then spoke one word:
“Begin”
At the signal all twelve men dropped their hands on to her body and started poking and probing her skin. Her eyes went wide as she realised what was going to happen, knowing her fate at last and realising it eclipsed every horror she had imagined. The men’s faces were blank as they concentrated on their task, each moving their hands in their own particular way, no two exactly alike as the explored the limits of her ticklishness.
She was already lost, her head thrown back, eyes staring at the inky blackness above her, the moon capturing her attention as it winked down from high above. Her body was racked with laughter as the torture grew, the lighter, almost teasing touches slowly giving way to harder, more insistent motions. She was gasping for air behind the gag, her hands clawing at the air, every muscle taught against the grip of the chains. Someone started running his fingers over her naked breasts and she screamed from the unexpected rush of sensations the wandering fingers evoked. The touch was repeated, harder and faster this time and she gasped despite herself. Her body was screaming for mercy now, desperate for a chance to regain its equilibrium, but a small part of her would welcome more of that sort of torture, a wish that was soon granted as a second, then a third pair of hands started moving over her breasts.
Gradually the other hands stopped their movement until all that remained was that light, wonderful torment on her breasts, exciting her despite her best intentions, and she raised up as best she could, trying to encourage their touches. As if that was a signal, all of the hands pulled back and stopped their activity, leaving her gasping and writhing in her bonds, desperate for more. She focused on the nearest man and saw he was standing impassively by her, all trace of humanity removed from his face, his soul had long since departed in this place, leaving only the form of a human. There would be no help, no rescue from any of these creatures, they existed only to serve the darkness now.
They gave her barely two minutes before moving back to her body. This time the pair at her shoulders started tickling her armpits, while the rest stood with their hands hovering over her skin, waiting for their turn. This time there was no gradual build-up, but an all out attack, twenty fingers scrabbling and scratching in her armpits, the skin stretched taught by her bonds. She howled with laughter, wrenching her head from side to side, searching for any give in the chains to let her move away from her torturers assault, even if only for a second.
After a few minutes the two at her shoulders stopped and the next pair started their own attack. This time their fingers found her ribs and stomach, dancing up and down her vulnerable body like spiders on a web, driving her insane. One of them dipped a finger into her belly button and started to tickle the delicate, untouched skin. She nearly levitated off the stone then, her entire body rigid as her shriek managed to pierce the gag, echoing off the walls of the chamber.
Again they stopped, and again the next set of hands took up the challenge, this time around her waist and hips. These two were alternating their touch, as one would dig into her right hip, she would swivel away, raising the right hand side of her body up from the stone only for the man on the other side to commence his own attack. For nearly five minutes they continued this approach, all the time sapping her remaining strength, her movements getting less with each passing second.
The attack was continued by the fourth pair of men, skittering their fingers over her thighs, running over every inch of her skin, coming at times with a hairs breadth of touching her pussy but always managing to avoid the touch some part of her craved. She was nearly still now, running at the very limit of her energy, the only movement occasional twitches from her body, and the slow clenching and unclenching of her hands above her head.
The fifth pair concentrated on her knees, creating complex patterns of swirls and strokes around and over the skin, yet despite the agony this was causing in her abused body, all she could do now was lie on the stone and accept her fate, a constant shrill laughter effectively muffled by the gag, her head lolling backwards now that she lacked the strength even to hold that up.
By the time the final pair started on her feet she was barely able to laugh, her breath coming in short shallow gasps, her throat red raw and burning. For long minutes those terrible fingers danced over her soles and toes, scraping and prodding every inch of her flesh, scratching in between her toes, stroking down the length of her foot. Yet all that she could do was lie still, her mind reeling from the sensations coursing through her but with no way to react to them.
The moon above her seemed to grow larger, as if it were dropping down through the mountain towards her; her gaze was now locked on it like a moth to a flame. Almost without her realising it every one of the men dropped their hands on to her body and began the final assault on their victim. The two at her hips lent over her body and began to gently, almost tenderly, caress her pussy, tickling her mound, and then gently teasing her clit, sending shockwaves through her body.
With those sensations a new feeling started to fill her, one of power, rising up like a wave within her, a dark tide that must consume her. The moon above was now so large it blocked out the room, the light poured into her eyes, and finally the wave broke. As she reached her climax her mind seemed to explode, dashing in every direction at once, that constant glare from the moon as filling her eyes, her heart, her soul. As her mind shut down, her final thought echoed in the depths of her soul: “So this is death…”
She shuddered and her body seemed to ripple in its bonds. Her hands and feet seemed to stretch, her skin changing as the men looked on blankly. Within seconds what was on the stone no longer held any resemblance to a human being, it was growing quickly, every part of the body seeming to stretch out, the head becoming long, tapered, teeth growing long and sharp. Her hands and feet changed into claws, her body became thicker, more muscled.
There was a brief groaning from the chains then they were ripped from their mountings, the shackles popping off almost immediately after, hopelessly inadequate to contain the creature now rising in the middle of the chamber. As it stood on it’s four strong legs, its skin seemed to harden, becoming stronger than the best armour in a matter of seconds. The creature threw its head back and screamed, as huge wings seemed to explode from its back, stretching out almost to the edges of the throne room.
It stood still for a moment, then saw the people before it and reacted to the need coursing through it. Within a minute it had consumed all twelve, feeling their bodies fuel it, their energy mixing with its own in a rush of power, of near ecstasy for this new creature. It looked up and with barely a thought rose off the ground, almost gliding upwards to the moon above, towards its destiny.
It exploded from the top of the mountain, flame licking from its great jaws as it experienced the joy of freedom for the first time. It soared in the night sky, higher and higher until it could see to the edges of the world. There, far off in the distance, its eyes made out the flicker of torches, as the war for the future of the land raged on. In its head the voice of the dark lord rose, the command simple. Go forth and destroy.
But something in the beast made it pause, its mind racing as it struggled to come to terms with its own creation. It knew, instinctively, that it was the strongest, most fearsome beast in this world, and that it was one of a kind. It knew it was almost indestructible and could feel the effects of the darkness even now, strengthening it, rendering it timeless, ageless. It could remember nothing from before its awakening, save one memory. Terror, deep, dark and endless, a pool in which it could drown and never escape. And it knew, in that moment, who had made it feel that way, and who could do it again if given the chance.
With a speed that seemed impossible for its size, the creature turned in the sky and dropped to edge of the crater. With one breath it sent a tongue of flame licking deep into the inner sanctum of the dark lord, it’s creator and the one thing in this land that may be able to destroy it. The flame seemed to continue forever, and those who saw the mountain that night said it was as if a volcano had erupted. It only stopped its attack when the flames it sent out were meeting those being fed from below, when all traces of the dark lord had been scorched away.
Then it turned and lifted into the sky, gazing once more at the battle far away. Even from this distance the signs of chaos were obvious, the forces of light driving their enemies back, carving through their ranks with ease now that their driving force was destroyed. In its mind the creature laughed as it turned and headed further north, into the wilderness. It needed time to learn, to grow and nurture itself, but that was one thing it would never be short of. It would take all the time it needed, and when it returned it would be to rule this land.
She glided through the skies, her great eyes picking out even the smallest detail below her as she flew.
She was the first of the Dragons
She was the last of the Dragons
And the world was hers.
