I've been a lurker here for quite a while, and I finally decided that it wouldn't be fair to just take in all the good content I've seen here without giving something back. Not necessarily something good, but something nontheless. Just a little thing I've whipped up over the pasty three days or so, for your viewing pleasue.
Ticklish Dragon
Some people might think it odd to have one of your main goals of the day be turning in to sleep, but some people don’t have the luxury of bedding down on a hoard of gold, gems, and all manner of treasures. It’s firm, but quite supportive; just the thing a dragon needs after flying about, doing this and that, killing those adventurers, burning that village. Wonderfully restful, knowing that in your aerie, it’s just you, your hoard, and blissful dreams of chaos and…well, more gold. As I was to find out on one particular night, that safety is not always a matter of fact.
I had just arrived back from one of the southern mainlands, after dispatching a small group that my patron saw fight to eliminate. It was all too simple: draw the fighter away by polymorphing into a classic damsel and knocking his head off once he turned the corner; jump into the air, burn the wizard, and the elf and the dwarf practically killed themselves by charging me. Their horses were a tasty dessert, and I recovered the meager treasure from the saddlebags. Gold is gold, after all.
So, I arrived back at the Gateway Islands, settling down in my crypt for a well-deserved sleep after a satisfying day. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself, as most dragons twice my age or size don’t have as much loot as I’ve accumulated, but I wasn’t prepared for what awaited me later that night.
A heavy weight settled on my chest, emptying my lungs of air and driving me out of slumber. Without air to ignite, my flame was useless, but once I stopped thrashing around and looked at what was trampling my torso, I quickly realized that it would not have been a good idea to use it in any case, nor would it have been a good idea to use spells, claws, teeth, or even throw rocks. It was a shapely leg, with dark blue skin like high altitude sky. Or congealed blood, whichever strikes home better. My eyes followed the leg upwards, past a skirt of dried bones, up a round, firm stomach, a near-bare female chest, covered only by a necklace of skulls, and finally to a beautiful face and deep, blazing eyes. And, a little below the aforementioned blazing eyes, arms, lots of them, pinning me by just about every joint in my body. My patron, the goddess of death: Kali.
It’s unbecoming for a dragon to cry when faced with death, and this was Death. Actual death embodied, and therefore quite frightening, despite her otherworldly beauty. At that moment, I had no doubt that I was about ten seconds away from a horrific and painful demise, so I wasn’t too concerned about reflecting on what it was that I had done to earn such an end. After about thirty seconds of silence, I realized that there was a surprising lack of disembowelment or beheading. A minute passed before I finally cleared my throat.
“Hello…Master-“
“YOU HAVE FAILED ME!”
When a deity speaks, it hurts. When they yell right in your face, it hurts a lot, sort of like an earthquake compressed into a thousand tiny needles that are being stabbed over and over into your eyes.
“YOU WERE SUPPOUSED TO RETRIEVE THE STAFF!” she roared, a new set of auditory needles starting their waltz across my brain. At this point, I was more confused than scared. I didn’t remember any instructions about a staff, just about the extermination of the adventuring band. A god saying something that doesn’t make sense is usually the norm, but Shiva was never quite as cryptic as some of the others. She was a killaholic, for one, so there wasn’t much subtlety in her to being with. Fortunately, she seemed to possess a good insight, which is probably the only reason I got off with the punishment she probably had pre-planned in case of situations like this.
My blank look told her volumes, and she rolled her eyes, relaxing her foots’ pressure on my chest, and allowing me to draw grateful gasps of air.
“I swear, you’re the most useless henchman ever,” she said, dropping the godly aura and crossing a pair of her arms across her perfect breasts, woefully concealing them further. “I give you one simple task, and you make me come all the way down here, only to find out that you’ve been outsmarted by a gnome.”
Labyrinthine is probably the best word to describe the mental maze that I was lost in at her words. I had no idea what she was talking about, but she soon cleared it up for me. She’d given me instructions to recover the Staff of Gllrkhe, which, apart from having a name with a single, completely useless vowel, had to ability to alter time, space, and thought. It could very well be used to cheat death, but in my case, the gnome in the adventuring party had hit me with it, accidentally erasing my memory of him and the staff. Fortunately, Kali had other followers who possessed a little more stealth, namely a cult of rather nasty drow, who dispatched the little annoyance soon after it was apparent that I wasn’t returning with the treasure.
“So,” I replied, once all this was cleared up by the midnight-blue goddess, “No harm, no foul? You’ve got the staff and everything’s all right…right?”
She smiled, a look that I’ve seen kill birds in mid-air and wither evergreen forests. The yellow eyes, the single, fang-like tooth sticking out just below her full lips; it’s about as scary as, in my opinion, the universe’s hottest goddess can get.
“Noooo…I think you need a little lesson in how to get a job done properly.”
My brother told me that his employer, Hades, is fond of throwing members of his work force into sections of Tartarus for ten minutes or so when they displease him. I was prepared for that, but not the Hell-on-Earth Kali had in mind.
I felt her multitude of hands tighten around me, pulling my at my limbs until I was spread-eagle on the mounds of my hoard. I closed my eyes, which was a rather large mistake.
The first sensations were on my feet: two sharp fingers, drawn up my scaly soles. I sputtered and laughed, caught completely off-guard. She didn’t let me recover enough even to ask her what she was doing. She just let loose on me.
My most ticklish spots were the smoother areas of my body where the scales were small enough to let my nerves be more sensitive, and she attacked them all with a fury. I had never viewed being ticklish like this before; it always seemed to win favor with my female nestmates. Then again, I had never gotten a goddess angry before.
My underarms got two hands apiece, all four scrabbling between each others’ fingers. That alone would have been bad enough, but not by my patron’s judgment. The smooth flesh of my underbelly, which is normally where knights and so forth aim lances and arrows, was covered in at least ten of her sharp, rapidly-scratching hands, which also pinched and probed the hollows between my hips and thighs.
I was cackling, screaming, and rocking back and forth, my eyes squeezed shut and leaking with tears, despite the wide grin which split my snout. My mind flashed to all sorts of contingency plans, then gave up. I was up against a goddess, and anything I had to use on mortals would be useless against her. Besides, she’d said she was going to get the job done, and Kali was probably the only person in the history of existence who is always punctual and prepared.
I stopped thinking about two seconds after that conclusion, as her hands grasped each of my four toes and dewclaw, spreading them wide apart. While three hands on each foot viciously tickled the sole, arch, and ball of my talons, more prodded and scratched the smooth webs between my toes. It almost burned, it tickled so much.
My nerves were exploding, as I laughed and laughed, slipping closer toward the breathless silent laughter that I still dreaded might be the end of me.
Then, she slowed down. All her hands still stroked me, but the touches became light and soft, only causing me to twitch and giggle out of seeing their presence and motion more than anything else. My belly was in spasms from the aftermath, and I couldn’t seem to slow my breathing down.
“Poor little dragon,” Kali cooed, continuing her fingers' slow dance across my shaking body. “Have you learned your lesson?”
It took me a few seconds to process the question before finally hitting upon its’ meaning and nodding vigorously.
She laughed, that fearful aura creeping back into her voice.
“NO, YOU HAVEN’T. I AM DEATH, AND DEATH IS UNMERCIFUL!”
I have no idea what sadistic magic she invoked, but in the mere blink of an eye, she was gone, and I was surrounded by slender golden and bejeweled hands. They were on me just as quickly, scraping and scratching at the same incredible level as my goddess had unleashed on me before, the searing tickles racing across my sensitized flesh. I howled and laughed, unable to move an inch, think a thought, or stop the sweet pain that enveloped my entire being until I was as close to dead as something alive can be.
No, it wasn’t mercy. Every time I leave and return, my cursed hoard awaits me, driving me to the brink of body and mind’s tolerance. But, the crazy thing is, I think I’m starting to like it. Collapsing to sleep is now not so important, as staying awake to be tickled longer.
Fin.
Ticklish Dragon
Some people might think it odd to have one of your main goals of the day be turning in to sleep, but some people don’t have the luxury of bedding down on a hoard of gold, gems, and all manner of treasures. It’s firm, but quite supportive; just the thing a dragon needs after flying about, doing this and that, killing those adventurers, burning that village. Wonderfully restful, knowing that in your aerie, it’s just you, your hoard, and blissful dreams of chaos and…well, more gold. As I was to find out on one particular night, that safety is not always a matter of fact.
I had just arrived back from one of the southern mainlands, after dispatching a small group that my patron saw fight to eliminate. It was all too simple: draw the fighter away by polymorphing into a classic damsel and knocking his head off once he turned the corner; jump into the air, burn the wizard, and the elf and the dwarf practically killed themselves by charging me. Their horses were a tasty dessert, and I recovered the meager treasure from the saddlebags. Gold is gold, after all.
So, I arrived back at the Gateway Islands, settling down in my crypt for a well-deserved sleep after a satisfying day. I was feeling pretty pleased with myself, as most dragons twice my age or size don’t have as much loot as I’ve accumulated, but I wasn’t prepared for what awaited me later that night.
A heavy weight settled on my chest, emptying my lungs of air and driving me out of slumber. Without air to ignite, my flame was useless, but once I stopped thrashing around and looked at what was trampling my torso, I quickly realized that it would not have been a good idea to use it in any case, nor would it have been a good idea to use spells, claws, teeth, or even throw rocks. It was a shapely leg, with dark blue skin like high altitude sky. Or congealed blood, whichever strikes home better. My eyes followed the leg upwards, past a skirt of dried bones, up a round, firm stomach, a near-bare female chest, covered only by a necklace of skulls, and finally to a beautiful face and deep, blazing eyes. And, a little below the aforementioned blazing eyes, arms, lots of them, pinning me by just about every joint in my body. My patron, the goddess of death: Kali.
It’s unbecoming for a dragon to cry when faced with death, and this was Death. Actual death embodied, and therefore quite frightening, despite her otherworldly beauty. At that moment, I had no doubt that I was about ten seconds away from a horrific and painful demise, so I wasn’t too concerned about reflecting on what it was that I had done to earn such an end. After about thirty seconds of silence, I realized that there was a surprising lack of disembowelment or beheading. A minute passed before I finally cleared my throat.
“Hello…Master-“
“YOU HAVE FAILED ME!”
When a deity speaks, it hurts. When they yell right in your face, it hurts a lot, sort of like an earthquake compressed into a thousand tiny needles that are being stabbed over and over into your eyes.
“YOU WERE SUPPOUSED TO RETRIEVE THE STAFF!” she roared, a new set of auditory needles starting their waltz across my brain. At this point, I was more confused than scared. I didn’t remember any instructions about a staff, just about the extermination of the adventuring band. A god saying something that doesn’t make sense is usually the norm, but Shiva was never quite as cryptic as some of the others. She was a killaholic, for one, so there wasn’t much subtlety in her to being with. Fortunately, she seemed to possess a good insight, which is probably the only reason I got off with the punishment she probably had pre-planned in case of situations like this.
My blank look told her volumes, and she rolled her eyes, relaxing her foots’ pressure on my chest, and allowing me to draw grateful gasps of air.
“I swear, you’re the most useless henchman ever,” she said, dropping the godly aura and crossing a pair of her arms across her perfect breasts, woefully concealing them further. “I give you one simple task, and you make me come all the way down here, only to find out that you’ve been outsmarted by a gnome.”
Labyrinthine is probably the best word to describe the mental maze that I was lost in at her words. I had no idea what she was talking about, but she soon cleared it up for me. She’d given me instructions to recover the Staff of Gllrkhe, which, apart from having a name with a single, completely useless vowel, had to ability to alter time, space, and thought. It could very well be used to cheat death, but in my case, the gnome in the adventuring party had hit me with it, accidentally erasing my memory of him and the staff. Fortunately, Kali had other followers who possessed a little more stealth, namely a cult of rather nasty drow, who dispatched the little annoyance soon after it was apparent that I wasn’t returning with the treasure.
“So,” I replied, once all this was cleared up by the midnight-blue goddess, “No harm, no foul? You’ve got the staff and everything’s all right…right?”
She smiled, a look that I’ve seen kill birds in mid-air and wither evergreen forests. The yellow eyes, the single, fang-like tooth sticking out just below her full lips; it’s about as scary as, in my opinion, the universe’s hottest goddess can get.
“Noooo…I think you need a little lesson in how to get a job done properly.”
My brother told me that his employer, Hades, is fond of throwing members of his work force into sections of Tartarus for ten minutes or so when they displease him. I was prepared for that, but not the Hell-on-Earth Kali had in mind.
I felt her multitude of hands tighten around me, pulling my at my limbs until I was spread-eagle on the mounds of my hoard. I closed my eyes, which was a rather large mistake.
The first sensations were on my feet: two sharp fingers, drawn up my scaly soles. I sputtered and laughed, caught completely off-guard. She didn’t let me recover enough even to ask her what she was doing. She just let loose on me.
My most ticklish spots were the smoother areas of my body where the scales were small enough to let my nerves be more sensitive, and she attacked them all with a fury. I had never viewed being ticklish like this before; it always seemed to win favor with my female nestmates. Then again, I had never gotten a goddess angry before.
My underarms got two hands apiece, all four scrabbling between each others’ fingers. That alone would have been bad enough, but not by my patron’s judgment. The smooth flesh of my underbelly, which is normally where knights and so forth aim lances and arrows, was covered in at least ten of her sharp, rapidly-scratching hands, which also pinched and probed the hollows between my hips and thighs.
I was cackling, screaming, and rocking back and forth, my eyes squeezed shut and leaking with tears, despite the wide grin which split my snout. My mind flashed to all sorts of contingency plans, then gave up. I was up against a goddess, and anything I had to use on mortals would be useless against her. Besides, she’d said she was going to get the job done, and Kali was probably the only person in the history of existence who is always punctual and prepared.
I stopped thinking about two seconds after that conclusion, as her hands grasped each of my four toes and dewclaw, spreading them wide apart. While three hands on each foot viciously tickled the sole, arch, and ball of my talons, more prodded and scratched the smooth webs between my toes. It almost burned, it tickled so much.
My nerves were exploding, as I laughed and laughed, slipping closer toward the breathless silent laughter that I still dreaded might be the end of me.
Then, she slowed down. All her hands still stroked me, but the touches became light and soft, only causing me to twitch and giggle out of seeing their presence and motion more than anything else. My belly was in spasms from the aftermath, and I couldn’t seem to slow my breathing down.
“Poor little dragon,” Kali cooed, continuing her fingers' slow dance across my shaking body. “Have you learned your lesson?”
It took me a few seconds to process the question before finally hitting upon its’ meaning and nodding vigorously.
She laughed, that fearful aura creeping back into her voice.
“NO, YOU HAVEN’T. I AM DEATH, AND DEATH IS UNMERCIFUL!”
I have no idea what sadistic magic she invoked, but in the mere blink of an eye, she was gone, and I was surrounded by slender golden and bejeweled hands. They were on me just as quickly, scraping and scratching at the same incredible level as my goddess had unleashed on me before, the searing tickles racing across my sensitized flesh. I howled and laughed, unable to move an inch, think a thought, or stop the sweet pain that enveloped my entire being until I was as close to dead as something alive can be.
No, it wasn’t mercy. Every time I leave and return, my cursed hoard awaits me, driving me to the brink of body and mind’s tolerance. But, the crazy thing is, I think I’m starting to like it. Collapsing to sleep is now not so important, as staying awake to be tickled longer.
Fin.
