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Species Western Dragon
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mage + dragon →
a mage
two blue smolders for eyes
darkwood hair like fire
sleek as a scythe in silk attire,
he hums through the twilit autumn wood
smelling of cider,
of spice leaf and of cinna rum.
his wild scent
sweet as an elf harp
plucks
a black and poison dragon’s nose,
routes drool
down the lifting kink of his fanged mouth.
power, that one thinks.
the boulder quake of his belly
shakes the bush he’s hid behind.
haunches spring —
an intermittent flash.
in his headlong blitz
the fantastic beast, over-eager, rips past his prey —
a yelp —
and the man’s thrown sidelong, over his skull
body being spun
gut getting wrenched
uncivil muck over silk being smeared
(slow frames
of the black and fanged one
forward-bent, burning friction):
before the wyrm can rein himself,
with a splash of earth
the mage staggers to his sandals — recovers
shouts, shaculir —
lock!
feral muscles seize in a cryogenic freeze
mid leap
beastly lower jaw
of a skeptic shown proof irrefutable
amethyst eye exposed to the mage a dot,
as though smote with light.
suspended black limbs quake, just ever so.
both the mage’s
two blue smolders for eyes
stay trained, stay in control
stay taming. stay professional.
“shame i needs use this magic, sini.
“this mage
magistar saromachus
cares much for dragons
and would have seen to it you unharmed
if had you met him here unarmed.
but now, he must be firm
and strict
restrict you, and your form
constrict.
construct to him a sentence, though
why stealing toward him as a foe
you were
and he will then confer
freedom to you, and let you go.”
sini hisses what venom he can in paralysis
saying this:
“you’d betray your word, mage,
would that you knew i’d steal still.
will you hear my reason?
your smell makes my belly ache
yearning for your magic,
yearning to make you part of me.”
and so saromachus’
two blue smolders for eyes
close, calculate;
measuredly he says, “sini
you’re as fond of my strength as i’m of yours.
so to compromise or to be compromised . . . why?
why without ‘must,’ sini?
sini, instead share with me;
share with me one body —
majestic and synced and entire —
a single entity, us —
and without war my magic will be yours.”
sini’s heart leaps
uncertainty stays his reply
jaws grind frustratedly
before finally
bursting free of muzzle
“release me so!”
poising at the sound of this
saromachus closes his
two blue smolders for eyes,
coordinates.
atoms tense.
snap —
the coils of stasis unravel.
sini marks the spot.
he grunts, gathers up,
twists round,
and sees a raised hand greet his snout.
a startled roar
self-deters fast;
saro doesn’t flinch,
simply absorbs the shock,
as though he absorbed for sini the paralysis.
sini takes it a trust sign,
one
to go the way of two.
on standby, saro’s hand
receives the regard
of a pathfinding snout
(hmn . . .)
then reassured, reaches forward.
soundlessly, the maw fissures open —
carves a monstrous threshold,
sini’s eyelashes longbows.
with a serene, hollow breath
from smiling mouth
he heaves poison vapors slow,
dank, yet fond;
to the warmth, saro’s fingers spread.
a friendly pink eel
peeks out
seeks out
soaks saro’s silky,
slightly salty cheek;
that one chuckles.
the friendly pink eel
peels back darkwood locks,
electric colors
sparking its palette fuse
(sparkling cider
spice leaf
cinna rum).
(hmmmn . . .)
a stroke of violet
streaks the dragon’s black border.
flavor, pulse, heat, flesh
skin nigh his
he brings within breathily
that slick, friendly eel sampling
earthy silk,
exposed saro whereabouts,
tasting . . .
tugging
taking, conducting this energy
through a lathered conduit.
his craw swells
an engorging, black, purple-bellied anaconda,
saro’s silk gown slipping inside
sandals following
spongy conveyors conveying
slrrrp, squorp
glllrk
tha-thu-thump, tha-thu-thump
tha-thu —
with a jellyfish spasm
a chute stretches open,
and splashing goes the mage
into a plum stew
pot belly
pillow-y hammock
cleaving low.
burbling bubbles multiply
in size, shape variety, reverb,
verbosely burping,
those pungent, sour,
meaty blueberry gases,
to a thinning gown,
a thickening soup.
saro’s head sweats
breaths get gristly
darkwood locks curl like treebark
candlewax skin
melts
while two blue smolders for eyes
wicker.
between huffs, he smiles
ready
and so saro, placing a hand on
the womblike,
says, “i’ll see you soon
reborn as, and as will be, you.”
a paw
rubbing that one
“not long now”
leaves sini’s
oily black lips
between huffs, he smiles
ready, too
the concerto of the stomach
strolls slower, slower, into a lullaby
whispers into silence
then,
then it rises
it rises to a low end sound
it rises to a humble crescendo
then,
then, maw muscling open,
sini roars;
wings stretching like constellations
he soars;
larger and larger —
magic into mass
his wingspan
thrusts from two,
to three, to four dragon-lengths across
sini and saro, their fused form,
a young thrush
swelling into maturity —
what takes a billion wingbeats for
a young thrush
in but a few for them
no
for him,
for
the dragon before us
saro/sini
is, but only once,
growing twice his size
tail whipping bigger
he's growing thrice his size
muzzle bursting from outgrown scale, regenerating fast
body bursting from outgrown scale, recovering, but recovery
covered up
by clothes now being spun and sewn:
into a silk gown of black and purple
of a grand collar
and feral sleeves —
one for the tail —
it stitches and tightens, custom-fit
for the magedragon’s form
a gasp
so live, so liberated
the first breath of
the large
powerful
magedragon
as spores of blue and purple
cycle this creature new
his
two purple smolders for eyes
pitch blurple in hue
and a hungry grin pulls up, up, up,
and this one licks his lips
lifts a claw, picks his teeth.
“aah . . .
“you were delicious,”
he says to himself.
Category Story / Vore
Species Western Dragon
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 28 kB
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