A sequel to "Golden Rear" and part 2 in what is now my "Dragon Derriere" series!

When Jacob's father tries to force him into blacksmithing, his dragon friends worry they'll never see him again!

Contains: excessive flatulence and some dung

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Black Bottom

Jacob stared up at the enormous wall of dark black scales in front of him, a monochrome tapestry pierced only by the large pink-fleshed opening and the few brown smears in and around that hole. A big, scaly wall with a gentle curve that looked not too dissimilar from the side of a dragon, except for the hind leg at either side and a large protrusion at the top of the wall, lifted high into the air and draping forward just above the creature’s back: the dragon’s tail. Jacob had only a moment to contemplate the hindquarters standing in front of him, however, as the next moment they promptly and swiftly descended, pressing him against the ground as they came to rest flatly but gently against his chest. The rear end shifted, brushing and rubbing against him, as the dragon scooted and repositioned himself until Jacob was staring up at the pungent pink flesh flecked with brown that was the dragon’s anus. ‘Dragon butts,’ Jacob concluded, as he heard the reptile giggle and purr, ‘are fundamentally different from those of humans, because there are no buttocks to prevent the dragon from placing their butt hole directly in one’s face.’
Jacob’s keen insight was rewarded with the anus distending and releasing a long and deep blast of flatulence in his face.
“Hee, hee!” laughed Dracius as he farted on his friend, “You make a nice comfy cushion, Jacob!”
“Thanks, buddy,” Jacob groaned. Dracius’ bottom, being a little more than twice his size, was too big and heavy to try and maneuver under, however lightly he sat, so he couldn’t reach a hand to cover his nose from the offending vapors. Dracius giggled as he supplied his friend with more.
“I’m really gassy today,” Dracius teased, “I ate all of these wild bean sprouts in a field I found, so I could probably fart up a whole storm cloud of stinky if I tried hard enough.”
“Great,” Jacob groaned, as the dragon’s anus opened and released more gas, “And you’re going to share it all with me?”
“That’s right!” Dracius exclaimed excitedly. He grunted and let loose a torrent of flatulence, the warm gasses blasting and sputtering in Jacob’s face for a full eight seconds. Jacob shouted and squirmed in disgust. A few wet bubbles followed, as the dragon wiggled his butt on Jacob playfully.
“Wow! That must’ve been the biggest fart ever!” Dracius laughed, as he fanned the air with a claw, “It must be really stinky under there!”
“Yeah, it’s pretty nasty down here,” Jacob admitted as he lay there in the smelly vapors, “I don’t know which one makes you gassier, buddy, bean sprouts or cabbage.”
“Hmmm… I think maybe it could be bean sprouts, at least judging by that last one,” pondered Dracius, “But I’ve let some pretty big ones with cabbage, too. Probably not that big, though.”
He giggled and passed a few three-second farts on Jacob, wiggling and purring playfully. Jacob squirmed and complained: every time the last fart ceased to linger, Dracius always had another stinker waiting for him.
“Where have you been, Jacob?” Dracius asked as he passed a long and airy poot, “I haven’t seen you in the mountains in over two weeks.”
“My father’s making me take an apprenticeship with a blacksmith,” Jacob groaned, not just from the smell this time, “He doesn’t think being a dragon scholar is a good enough career path. He thinks it won’t bring enough money when I have a family.”
“That’s not very nice,” Dracius frowned, “Does that mean you can’t come see us any more?” He whimpered.
“No,” Jacob said, “I may have to become a blacksmith to please my father, but that doesn’t mean I’ll stop being a dragon scholar. It’s my life and I’m going to spend it doing what I love.”
“But you can’t do both?” his friend farted wetly again.
“Whew, Dracius!” Jacob squirmed, “No, no, I can’t do both. You’re right. That’s why I’m going to continue my apprenticeship as a dragon scholar in secret. I’m going to finish the apprenticeship as a blacksmith; then, as soon as I turn eighteen, I can get away from my dad and become a dragon scholar for real. Even if it means I’ll have trouble supporting my family, I don’t care, because it’s what I want to do with my life.”
“You should do what makes you happy,” Dracius agreed. He sat and smiled as he let another airy poot in Jacob’s face.
“That’s dragon philosophy, isn’t it?” Jacob said, “Do what makes you happy?”
“Yep, that’s right!” Dracius said, letting a wet and bubby fart. He giggled as he felt Jacob squirm from the stench.
The dragon continued sitting on his human friend until his extensive supply of flatulence was exhausted, passing a variety of gas both airy and wet in Jacob’s face. Jacob grimaced every time his friend’s anus opened to vent. Dracius grunted and finished with another enormous fart, this one lasting nearly seven seconds, and giggled as Jacob shouted and complained beneath his big bottom. He sat for a few seconds until his prodigious pooter had ceased to linger, then climbed up off his friend and turned to grab him in a big hug.
Jacob patted the reptile on the head, returning his embrace, and smiled.
“That sure was an awful lot of gas, Dracius,” he said, ruffling his friend’s ears, which he knew the dragon liked, “Maybe you should start eating bean sprouts instead of cabbage from now on?”
“Hee, hee, maybe,” laughed the dragon, “It sure does do the trick. Maybe I’ll try both!”
“If you did that, you could probably fart for a week straight,” smiled Jacob.
“That’d be awesome!” laughed Dracius, “Just think of all the fun…”
“NO! No, no, no!” Jacob interrupted him, looking up at the sky, “I’m going to be late to my lessons with the blacksmith!”
He hurried off before Dracius could offer to fly him to the village.
Dracius hoped his friend would be all right. He couldn’t think of a time when he had seen Jacob in such a hurry before.

“Hey, Dracius, what’s the matter?” asked Thyrsis later when he saw his friend looking glum.
“Jacob’s father doesn’t want him to be a dragon scholar,” Dracius sighed, “He says it doesn’t make enough money to support a family, so he wants him to be a blacksmith instead. I’m worried we won’t get to see him if he decides to become a blacksmith.”
“What is a blacksmith anyway?” asked Thyrsis, cocking his scaly head to one side in puzzlement.
“I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure they don’t study dragons,” frowned Dracius.
“Humans are always worried about money,” Thyrsis sighed, “They could probably be a lot happier if they learned to take it easy like us.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t solve Jacob’s problems,” said Dracius, “He was almost late to go to meet the blacksmith today, because he came to visit me, and since we already haven’t seen him for two weeks, I’m worried he might have to stop coming altogether.”
“Well, then, we’ll just have to start going to the village more,” Thyrsis said.

Jacob wiped the sweat from his brow as he worked in the smoke and flames to shape the iron on the hot anvil. This was his first real test as an apprentice, and he had to do well if he was to continue this job. He had considered doing badly on purpose, so that he could get fired and not have to work anymore, but his boss and father were both already upset with him for almost being late to the last meeting. He concentrated and brought the hammer down hard on the steel.
‘This isn’t exciting at all,’ thought Jacob as he worked, ‘I’d much rather be spending time with dragons than whacking a piece of metal all day.’
“Hey, Jacob!” whispered a familiar voice.
‘Wait a minute, that sounds like Thyrsis,’ thought Jacob, ‘But what’s…’
“Hi, Jacob!” whispered Thyrsis, sticking his head in through the window and smiling.
“Thyrsis!” Jacob hissed, “What are you doing here? My boss is just in the other room with a customer! I’m going to get in so much trouble if he sees y…”
“Jacob, how’s that dagger coming?” bellowed his boss, emerging through the curtain into the workshop.
“I-it’s coming alone just fine, sir,” Jacob stuttered, noticing Thyrsis had ducked his head out of the window as his boss came in, “Should be done in about another hour or so.”
“Who where you talking to just now?” asked the man, his handlebar moustache furrowing as much as his narrowed eyebrows, “Was that one of your dragon friends, Mr. Scholar?”
“No, sir,” Jacob lied, “It was just one of the boys from the village.”
“Really?” his boss crossed his huge hairy arms, “Because it didn’t sound like no boy to me! I thought I told you I can’t have dragons wandering around my workshop, pooping and breaking wind; it’s bad for business! “
“I’m sure they wouldn’t…” Jacob tried.
“Well, I’m going to go make sure,” he said, grabbing a broadsword.
“Sir, I really don’t think you need…” he said urgently, worrying for Thyrsis’ safety.
“You’d best quit slacking off or you’re fired,” growled his boss, heading for the door.
Thyrsis froze as he heard heavy footsteps approaching the door. Looking around desperately for someplace to hide, he found a spot just as the door creaked open and the growling blacksmith stepped out.
Scanning the immediate area as he walked all around his shop, the blacksmith couldn’t spot the dragon and concluded that perhaps Jacob had been telling the truth. Grumbling to himself, he went back inside and sat down in his study to take inventory.
Thyrsis poked his head up out of the nearby field of sunflowers when he saw that the coast was clear. He laughed and went back over to the shop and stuck his head back in the window to see Jacob still hard at work.
“Jacob!” whispered Thyrsis, “When do you think he’ll let you stop working today?”

When they had the schedule worked out, Thyrsis and his friends decided to visit Jacob every day after work in the village, since it was getting harder and harder for him to find time to come up to the mountains. Unfortunately, being that he was now only a secret dragon scholar, meeting with his elderly instructor late at night (she found the whole idea of advising him in secret delightful, and vowed to keep a lid on the whole thing), he could no longer spend his evenings listening to dragon folklore and flying under the stars, so he had to make due with flying and spending time with his friends during the few hours between the end of his sessions with the blacksmith and getting home in time for dinner. There was also the small problem of the dragons’ flatulence: one of the other reasons his father had wanted him to go into blacksmithing is that he preferred Jacob to come home smelling like ashes instead of dragon derriere. His scaly friends soon remedied this problem by having Jacob rub the leftover ashes from the workshop on himself after they finished playing flatulent games with him, but Jacob cautioned that they would have to avoid having too much gassy fun because ashes wouldn’t cover up the smell entirely, so they limited themselves to a few farts instead of a whole bottom’s worth.
He also had several of the boys in the village covering for him (and some girls, as well): through a little coercion, he had been able to get several of them to agree that they were hanging out during the times he went to see his dragon scholar instructor. Though he tried to sneak out late at night for meetings, this wasn’t always possible, and he often sacrificed free time with his scaly friends for instruction on such varied topics as dragon cultural traditions and which herbs will relieve a constipated dragon (unfortunately, no scholar had yet found a cure for dragon flatulence). He could often do both, however, as his teacher was more than happy to allow his friends to accompany him to the lessons, so long as they were meeting outside. She actually saved money by storing several larger artifacts and scroll collections in a cave out of town, and they had tried to all meet up there several times, as all five of the dragons could fit into the cavern along with Jacob and his instructor. But no one wants to be stuck in a relatively cramped cavern with five very large and gassy dragons. Jacob had had a similar experience about a month ago at a storytelling event, albeit with several dozen dragons and a much larger cave… not that the cave’s size had been any help against the smell. The important thing was that he somehow managed to find time to keep up his studies with his instructor, please his father with his gradual (extremely tedious) progress in blacksmithing, and spend time with his dragon friends all within the same week.
One day about a month later, however, Jacob had some very bad news.
“I can’t play with you guys all next week,” he said, “The king’s supposed to be passing through here on his way to a very important meeting somewhere in the southeast, and my boss wants me to help him make a special golden breastplate to present to His Majesty as a gift.”
“Wait… we have a king?” asked the blue dragon, cocking his head to the side in confusion.
“Yes, but that’s not the point,” Jacob said, “The point is that my boss said this is my most important test, and even though I know he’s not actually going to let me do anything except clean and heat the anvil, he said if I do well enough, he might consider giving me longer hours. At this rate, I’ll probably have to work through dinner.”
“Nooo!” whined Dracius, “Then we won’t get to see you at all!”
“Hey, maybe if we all go and poop in the blacksmith’s workshop, he’ll have to spend the next week cleaning it out,” suggested Thyrsis.
The other dragons liked this idea, but Jacob shook his head.
“No, I’ll figure something out,” Jacob said, “I’ll bring you guys with me to my night sessions with my instructor, and we can all go in the cave and study artifacts and hang out. It shouldn’t be too bad, if you all remember to stick your rear ends out the entrance this time.”
“Sorry about that,” chuckled the red dragon, “Dracius introduced us to those bean sprouts. I couldn’t really hold ‘em in.”
“Maybe we can all go to the mountains?” suggested the green dragon, “There’s plenty of room there, and wouldn’t it be better to be around a lot of dragons if you’re learning about them?”
“I suggested that to my instructor,” Jacob shook his head, “But she said there’s no guarantee I could get back in time before anyone noticed. Even with people covering for me, it’d be harder to convince anyone if I was gone for more than a few hours.”
“What are we going to do, then?” whined the blue dragon.
“Can’t you just fart on the other villagers until I get some time off?” Jacob asked.
“Yeah, but we like to play with you, too, Jacob,” said Dracius, “Most of the other villagers just think we’re really gross, but you’re actually our friend.”
“Come on guys, don’t make me feel any worse about this,” Jacob sighed, “There’s nothing I can do about the situation. I’ll just have to wait and try to figure something out.”
He petted and hugged each of his friends.
“Don’t worry, though, I promise I’ll get things worked out, alright?”
And the dragons hoped he would.
All next week, Jacob was hard at work helping to heat the anvil and fetching tools and generally sitting back and observing while his mentor did all of the work on the extravagant breastplate that was to be a gift for the king. It was to have the royal seal on the chest, the surface was to be polished to a gleam, it was to be made of real gold, inlaid with silver, and studded with rubies and diamonds… and on and on the blacksmith talked of its wondrous specifications. Jacob began to suspect that his boss wanted to do more than just please His Highness and was looking for some sort of promotion or compensation.
The village was also hard at work preparing for the king’s arrival. Clothes were mended, shoes were shined, and any necessary repairs were made to houses and shops. The local bards collaborated on a two hundred verse poem in honor of His Majesty, which they desperately hoped would be ready in time. Anyone who had a musical instrument was encouraged to collaborate with anyone else who had a musical instrument, in the hopes of getting together a serenade or two for His Highness. The town was decorated with flags and banners, made with any material the local tailors had to spare (thankfully, one of them had hoarded material for years, in the hopes that this sort of thing would happen someday). Most importantly, all of the dragon poop was cleaned up and disposed of, and the villagers watched the dragons carefully to make sure they didn’t leave any more. Everything had to be perfect, or as perfect as possible on the limited budget.
Finally, the day arrived, and His Majesty strode into town in glorious pomp and circumstance. The band struck up the chorus. The blacksmith stood by anxiously, Jacob next to him, holding the magnificent suit of armor to present when it was time. The villagers stood nervously, each hoping His Highness would smile at them as he passed through the crowd. The half-dozen or so adult dragons, who were very curious and wanted to see and possibly speak with the king as diplomats of a sort, were still more nervous, having, to the great displeasure of the villagers, forced as much gas out of their bowels as possible an hour before the king was to arrive, in the hopes of avoiding any embarrassing slips during His visit. The dozen or so younger dragons were not nervous at all, but a little bored, as they had been told not to play any rude jokes during His Majesty’s visit. As He arrived, several of them got up off the young villagers they had been sitting on, and tried to look as dignified as possible. The older dragons had warned them to fart as quietly and discretely as they could, or to fly off and come back if they couldn’t. Everyone was doing their part to ensure His Highness would be impressed and look upon the village favorably.
He came through the crowd, smiling and waving at the villagers as the band serenaded Him and the bards got their notes together for the poem following the gifts. His Majesty stopped when he passed by the adult dragons, admiring them inquisitively for a moment, and a large orange dragon in front nervously knelt down in a sort of bow so His Majesty could pet him. The king did so, said “Good dragon,” and then continued on his way. The other dragons standing near him stepped away and frowned as a few warm drops of liquid splashed their feet.
“Sorry,” whispered the orange dragon, “I’m just really nervous.”
The other dragons nodded and told him he’d done a good job and that it was all right.
His Majesty took his seat on the carved wooden throne the villagers had constructed as he reached the center of the crowd, then smiled and nodded in approval as each of the many gifts were presented to him one by one. Jacob nervously knelt down when it was his turn to present the armor, the blacksmith swallowing hard before making his announcement as coherently and respectfully as possible. His Majesty took it, smiled and nodded, admired it for a minute, then motioned for one of his attendants to present the blacksmith with several large pieces of silver. The blacksmith nearly fainted in excitement. Remembering his place, he rushed forth, got on his knees, and grasped His Majesty’s hand, kissing each finger repeatedly, then proceeded to do the same with His other hand in a display of profound gratitude. When he offered to do the same for His Majesty’s toes to show his humility and love for Him, the king motioned that it was okay, and that he might stand and return to the crowd, which the blacksmith promptly did, with another full bow.

“The gifts, do they all please Your Majesty?” asked his advisor, Frederick, when the bards had begun to read the poem after the gift-giving was finished.
“They are fine, Frederick,” replied His Highness, examining a pair of boots the cobbler had presented, “But this is all rather predictable, is it not? These ceremonies really always are, though.”
“I pray your forgiveness, I do not follow Your Highness,” Frederick replied.
“It’s always gifts and extravagance everywhere you go,” He said, “It never really changes. It grows a little similar after a while, I suppose. Now, what I really want to know… take those dragons over there,” He motioned towards the group of adults and younger dragons standing in the back of the crowd, listening to the poem, “What do you know of dragons, Frederick?”
“Only a little, Your Highness,” Frederick said, “From what I have read, the dragon scholars tell us they are not an extensively prominent species, but that they are distributed in large groups all over the continent, that they live for several hundred years, and that they are prone to excessive flatulence, which is why I judge they are standing at the back of the crowd, behind the villagers.”
“They are rather magnificent, nonetheless,” the king remarked, “Very large and noble-looking.” He regarded them for a moment, “You say there are scholars who study them? What does a scholar earn?”
“Very little, I believe, Your Highness,” said Frederick, “They are as bad off as tailors and far worse than bakers.”
“That is a shame,” said the king, “A decided shame.”

Several weeks later, Jacob came running to Thyrsis and the gang, who were busy having a farting contest because there was no one else to play with at the time.
“Guys, guys!” Jacob said, rushing up to the group of dragons. He stopped short when he caught a whiff, “Whew! Who let one?”
“We all did,” said the blue dragon, with a grin, “We’re having a farting contest. And now that you’re here…” he got up, walked over to where Jacob was standing, and turned around with his tail in the air, preparing to sit on his human friend.
“Wait, hold on!” Jacob said, backing away from the gassy rump, “I have some great news! I can quit blacksmithing!”
“What? Why? How?” asked Thyrsis.
“There was a declaration from the king the other day,” said Jacob, “That dragon scholars are to receive a royal grant for producing work related to the study of dragons and their culture! Now I don’t have to worry about not making good money after I complete my apprenticeship! My dad can’t force me to become a blacksmith anymore!”
“Jacob, that’s great!” Dracius said, grabbing his friend in a great big hug.
“This calls for a celebration!” said the red dragon, and all the other dragons nodded.
“But first…” said the green dragon, giving the other dragons a wink. They all giggled and turned their tails to Jacob. Then, they all at once lifted their tails, revealing their huge backsides, and farted simultaneously on their friend, blowing various smelly farts on him and creating an incredible cocktail of stink. When they were done several seconds later, they lowered their tails and turned around, smiling and laughing.
“There,” Thyrsis said, “And this time, you don’t have to rub any ashes on yourself. Now, you can smell as strongly of dragon farts as you want, and your father can’t complain about it anymore!”
The other dragons cheered.
“I have a gift for Jacob, too,” Dracius said, and he lifted his tail, turned around, and sat on his friend. He carefully positioned his butt hole, then grunted and let loose with an enormous ten-second fart that bubbled and sputtered and moved between airy and wet and back again, echoing off the surrounding houses and filling the air with an awful, lingering stench. Dracius sighed with relief and purred and giggled as he finished his pooter. The other dragons clapped and laughed and fanned the air with their claws.
“Uggghhh, Dracius!” Jacob groaned as he lay in the dragon’s gassy vapors, “Whew! That was a rank one! Phew, buddy! What did you eat?!”
“I took your advice and ate cabbage along with those bean sprouts,” his friend giggled, “I think you’ll have to agree, that was probably the BIGGEST fart ever!”
Jacob smiled. Things were finally going to be back to normal.