I am actually quite pleased with the way this story turned out, considering that it is based in its entirety off an idea I had in a dream, about two playful dragons letting some stinky quiet farts and befouling a Victorian train car. That said, I'm happy the idea developed so nicely as I wrote it.

For now, this is a stand alone story, which means I'm not planning to write any more in this setting or with these characters. If you want to see more, you MUST let me know.

When a group of local youths lets a duo of dragons onto a train car in Victorian England, things get downright stinky and positively vulgar!

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Steam Engine Stinkers

It is a known fact that dragons are not usually looked upon with overly keen fondness in big cities, for obvious reasons. Though friendly and gentle of disposition, their large size is not usually compatible with the already crowded metropolises of the modern western world. An animal the size of a stagecoach makes an awful mess when it needs to relieve itself, and giant piles of dragon poop splattered over cobblestones are not an attractive site. It is also simply inconvenient to try and maneuver around one that has fallen asleep in the middle of the street, and dragons can be very sound sleepers. And, of course, there is always their rude sense of humor that oftentimes threatens to clash with common decency.
Animal flatulence tends to be, for the majority of city-dwellers, either a non-existent issue or at worst a vulgar inconvenience that is not regularly encountered in day-to-day life. For those cities frequented by a large dragon population, however, animal flatulence is often encountered frequently, if not on a daily basis. Younger dragons are extremely gross in their merrymaking, and many of the games they enjoy playing with humans revolve around breaking wind. Although the older of the species are usually more mannered in their emissions, many a pedestrian has been farted upon while walking backwind of an unaware dragon. Dragons pass gas frequently enough that their bodily functions are a foul reality of living amongst them, borne with a frown and a grimace by those in the cities that they frequent.
As mentioned before, the games played by the younger dragons are of a basely vulgar nature, involving flatulence in the extreme. These amiable yet ill-mannered reptiles will trap a human in all sorts of ways using their hindquarters and break wind upon them loudly and repeatedly, befouling the air with their gaseous stench. It is not an unheard of site to step outside one’s door and find a large pair of scaly hindquarters waggling in front of one’s face, before a fart bursts outwards. One may be out for a pleasant stroll and feel a whoosh of wings and look up to see an unwashed scaly underside coming in for a landing. A young dragon may be pretending to rest on the corner, but fart enormously at you as you walk past, then sit on you as you groan and fan the stench away. Dragons may even pretend to walk in front of you, suddenly jerking their large tails into the air and passing gas, and then sit themselves right down on you as you pause to complain.
As you can imagine, due to their penchant for farting, and love of rude games, young dragons are disgusting nuisances in any sort of enclosed space. They are barred from churches, lest they pollute the sacredness of the space. They are terribly unpleasant in any of the narrow alleys that are a reality of modern architectural design. Sometimes they will even shove their rear ends through an open window and interrupt a pleasant conversation with a trumpeting blast. And heaven forbid they manage to catch you as you are getting into an enclosed carriage, lest you be smooshed against the wall by their unwiped business end.
All of these are unarguably unpleasant situations in which to encounter a gassy young dragon, but there is one place not yet mentioned that is perhaps the worst: that miracle of modern convenience, the train. Normally a pleasant and comfortable way to travel, be it a distance long or short, the somewhat cramped confines of a train car have little ventilation save for windows, and are therefore quite accommodating to clouds of dragon flatulence. Why, one grown young dragon could easily stink up a car with a few sound farts, and turn the journey from cozy to repugnant in a matter of minutes. On this unfortunate occasion, however, I distinctly remember having to endure two of them.
Now, before I continue I must present a disclaimer of sorts to my readers, who, as of this writing, I have not determined the particulars thereof. I am of the rather rare sort of the current generation in our fine city that regards dragons with some degree of affection, despite their disgusting amusements. The exception, of course, being any of a mindset left over from the Romantics, who find them fanciful and wondrous in appearance, and that implacable group of dandies who call themselves aesthetes or degenerates, and seem to find fascination in anything contrary to the social and moral order. To show strong predilection to these creatures, which the majority of society regards as overly rude, is to make one’s reputation subject to harsher scrutiny than one might desire. Although far from the worst social sin one can commit, it is sufficient to bar one from several fashionable gentlemen’s clubs and a few of the more stringent employment organizations. The former I have often found presumptuous when I attended in the past with friends; the latter is a bit more irksome.
You will understand why I have spoken, then, with a trifling degree more of harshness than perhaps is required when talking about dragon antics. Language being a product of our cultural and social conditioning, I am fettered by the constraints provided me as a product of said conditioning. While I would not call myself an aesthete, I have often found the necessary pretensions put on by any supposedly upstanding member of society to be suffocating at the worst of times, and pointless at best. Yet to live within the social and moral framework dictated by the attitudes and practices of the elite is the duty of any self-respecting Englishman, and as I would call myself a man of principles I must abide by our common conventions. Though still I cannot help but hearken back to that very Romantic ideal of democracy, and greater, Blakean, freedoms of thought and expression, free from doubt or sinfulness! I hold steadfast to the hope that we may one day again find ourselves enveloped in such a wave of promise and jubilation as was witnessed before the fateful Revolution in France.
Yet I have become admittedly sidetracked from the account I set out to provide. I recall that I had taken the 2:15, headed for C---, and that it was a rather cold day for the time of season. Having less of a temperament towards inclement weather than I might prefer, I had taken the train instead of the usual coach. Boarding the middle class car, I had endeavored to locate a seat near the window, so as to watch the pleasantness of the scenery as we rode along. Even on rainy days, I find the countryside to possess an enchanting and tranquil aura, lifting one’s spirits above the grim and sobering nature of London’s streets. Call it Wordsworthian if you will, but I think many of those of my station have a great jealously towards those in the upper class wealthy enough to afford a summer estate in the country.
While I was engaged in such sights as befit the work of Constable, or perhaps, given the weather, more so Turner, a commotion was rising from the baggage car behind us. I turned from my reverie to see what was causing the disturbance, and in burst two young men, hollering and laughing animatedly. Normally, there would be nothing overly unusual about such a site, especially considering that I recognized the two as belonging to a group of local youths, who were often getting into trouble for behaving rambunctiously. Behind them, however, followed a green dragon, a wide smile on its face as it entered the car. As everyone reacted with some surprise, and a few of the more susceptible women with mild alarm, there appeared in the doorway a rather fat blue dragon, or I should say the front half of a dragon.
The plump reptile appeared to be stuck in the human-sized doorway that allowed passage between baggage and our car, and was wriggling its hindquarters to try and free itself. The grin it had appeared in the doorway with had drooped into a frown as it realized that it was indeed quite stuck. The dragon did not falter but for a moment, however, as it called for assistance and was answered by what was presumably another member of the gang who was still behind it in the baggage car. The dragon wriggled and struggled to free its rear end from the doorway as the young man pushed it from behind for several moments, but to no avail. When they tried again, the only effect was a large eruption of flatulence from the dragon’s hindquarters and an audible groan from the boy downwind, followed by laughter from the other members of the gang as well as the green dragon. When they tried again, after one of the boys suggested to the dragon that it suck in its belly and rush forwards, the reptile finally burst through into the space, unfortunately bringing its enormous fart cloud in with it, to the displeasure of everyone in the car.
The other passengers had watched the spectacle before them with surprise and uncertainty, but now groaned and fanned the air frantically as the reptile’s pungent flatulence befouled the air. The two dragons chuckled, but flapped their wings as much as they were able to in the confined space to help dissipate the stench. When the odor cleared several moments later, one of the passengers rushed angrily to find the head of security and complain. The rest of us remained in the car, somewhat uncertain of what to do, as the two dragons lay on their bellies, the green at the head and the blue at the rear, looking around and smiling amiably at the passengers, who, although they had nothing to fear from the reptiles, were less than pleased at their presence. The three youths who had brought the animals in from baggage had taken up seats among the passengers and were casually chatting as if nothing at all were amiss.
The young man who had been pushing the blue dragon a moment before came and sat next to me, as mine was an otherwise unoccupied seat. He wore spectacles and was dressed respectably, as the youths he tarried about with were from respectable families themselves.
“I couldn’t help noticing you don’t seem quite as uneasy around the dragons as some of the other passengers,” he said, “I believe they’re all worried Lyle will try to sit on them,” he gestured towards the blue dragon, who was scratching his bottom with a foreleg.
“Won’t he though?” I asked, “After all, I’ve seen dragons sitting on people on more than one occasion, and have had it happen to myself once or twice in the past.”
“Of course he will!” the boy responded with a laugh, “Dragons his age adore that sort of thing. I think it’s terrifically funny, myself,” he grinned, “But as to my previous observation: Aren’t you worried he’ll do something vulgar and filthy, maybe fart in your face?”
I was uncertain how to answer the question, whether to be honest or say what was expected of me. As I mentioned before, I am one of perhaps a handful of people in the city who actually finds dragons pleasant. However, despite their vulgarity, I do not find their games to be as offensive as the majority judge them to be. I daresay I find them rather… amusing, if just a trifle. But to say so would be unthinkable, and I would be looked upon as deviant or perhaps even disturbed. The bizarre reality of the situation was that I was but a few years these boys’ senior, them being perhaps in their early twenties, but as I was slated for marriage to a Ms. Moncrieff later this year, I was expected to be the picture of propriety, to put all boyhood fancies and delights aside, particularly anything remotely vulgar.
“Surely he would be more mannered than to fart on a man who is engaged to be married?” I replied meagerly, though I knew such a presumption to be preposterous.
The boy laughed and shook his head, then replied, “I’d hate to be one of you marrying-types, trying to use my wife as an excuse. It’s the bachelor’s life for me. Just because, I think I’ll have ol’ Lyle come over and smoosh you right and proper!” he said with a wink.
“He is your dragon, then?” I asked, noticing the way the boy referred to the animal as though it were his pet. I had often seen these youths spending time with the dragons in the streets, to the ire of their parents, chasing each other like children with dogs, excepting that dogs will not sit on you and fart when they catch you.
“No, not at all, we just spend a lot of time together, is all,” replied the boy, “He certainly is a stinky one, Lyle. He loves to press me against his bottom with his tail and let big airy poots in my face, the silly rogue!” he chuckled affectionately.
By this time, the head of security burst through the door to the front of the cabin, forced his way past the green dragon, who tried to catch him with his tail, but was too slow, and stood fuming and demanding that “the rascals and stowaways reveal themselves”. The three youths obliged his request, and to everyone’s shock, presented three valid tickets. The security chief was taken aback, his thick eyebrows raised noticeably, but he could not throw them off the train legally. I recalled that this gang did not, in fact, have any outstanding warrants of arrest against them, though they were seen as vulgar troublemakers for oft encouraging the dragons in their antics. The guard did, however, demand that their “filthy reptile companions” exit immediately, or he would show them out by force. The youths begged and pleaded with him, even presenting him with roughly half a crown in change to try and convince him! This bribery proved stronger than his anger, and the dragons were allowed to stay, provided they remain on their best behavior.
He left and in that instant I realized two truths: the amazing power of money to influence people to agree to unpleasant situations, and the fact that, sooner or later, our reptilian travelers would naturally be inclined to misbehave themselves. The predilection towards harmless mischief in young dragons in palpable, and a train car full of a captive audience to play with would be overwhelming to their excitable emotions, as dragons are freer of expression than humans. Granted, if things became too gross or smelly they would calm down so as not to overly upset or sicken anyone, but their playful temperaments made it nigh impossible for them to avoid taking liberties with the situation. In hindsight, I cannot blame them, as from their perspective the opportunity for flatulent tomfoolery was undoubtedly tremendous.
No more than ten minutes after the security guard had left a pungent stench filled the car. People groaned and frowned, fanning the air, and the green dragon put a claw to his snout to muffle a snicker. Another stink of flatulence filled the car not minutes later, and this time Lyle could be seen softly chuckling to himself. The youths were grinning, though they too held their noses, as the dragons’ emissions genuinely stunk. I held my nose as well, waiting to see if the youths did anything to promote their scaly friends’ gaseous behavior.
The green dragon lifted his tail and farted loudly shortly after, much to the ire of the passengers in the car, particular those in the seats nearest his backside. The youths laughed and clapped their hands.
“Atta boy, Fredrick!” shouted one of the youths, “Go ahead and relieve yourself, my friend, you’re in the company of gentlemen, after all!” Fredrick gladly obliged, lifting his tail and passing gas loudly for several seconds.
“Now see here!” shouted a man near the front of the car, a few seats upwind of the dragon, “You have some nerve, young man, encouraging the bloody beasts that way!”
“Oh, I do, do I?” retorted the boy, “Perhaps Fredrick has something to say about that, don’t you, boy?”
“I certainly do!” the dragon replied, with a laugh. His voice was pleasant and melodic, full of merriment and youthful excitement. He got up off his belly, raised his tail, and quickly pressed the man into the cushions of the seat with his backside before he had time to react. Wiggling his bottom over the fulminating man, he broke wind deeply for five full seconds, sighing with relief before breaking down into a fit of giggles. The man groaned and fanned the air frantically as Fredrick finished his prank and removed his bottom.
“Ahhh, that was quite a fart!” chuckled the dragon, “I do feel much better!” he turned to the man he had just smooshed and smiled pleasantly, “And I trust you’re less sour… in disposition rather than smell,” he added teasingly, fanning a claw in front of his snout. The man gritted his teeth in anger but said nothing, and Fredrick simply purred kindly.
Lyle was not about to be outdone by his companion, and stood up and lifted his own tail to reveal his pudgy posterior as he lazily plodded towards the front of the car. He began to pass gas as he did so, farting deep and long for nearly six seconds and catching over half the passengers downwind of his butt as he walked past them, gas blasting from his tail hole all the while, which was noticeably dirty as he wandered by my seat. The stench from the portly blue dragon’s winds was horrible, stinking of beans and cabbage, and quickly spreading to fill the entire car. The youths and dragons laughed, of course, while the rest of us sat in the smelly confines of the train. Fredrick soon contributed to the powerful odor again, as he thrust his large bottom into several passengers’ faces and relieved himself noisily. Although it was still raining outside, given the choice between sitting in the fart clouds of the rude reptiles and getting a little wet, myself and the other passengers decided we preferred the latter.
Someone tried to go and fetch the security chief at this point, but was barred by one of the youths. Lyle had meanwhile sat down on one of the seats, trapping two passengers with his blue rump at once, and was trumpeting away, the fumes spreading quickly outwards. Fredrick decided to copy his friend, planting his green scaly rear on one of two young men sitting next to each other and leaning to the side a little as he did so, farting on both simultaneously as he pinned the other with the claw of his hind leg. Both reptiles were giggling and purring, and between the thunderous farts, I overheard them addressing their human cushions in the most friendly and polite tones. I noticed that the dragons had avoided farting directly on any female passengers, probably because they were worried about ruining the gossamer shimmer of their gowns, though this was little comfort as all the passengers could easily smell the profuse flatulence from the dragons.
“Now see here!” growled the man who was blocked by the youth, “I demand you let me through to see the chief of security this instant!”
“If there were a security issue, I would indeed let you do so,” the youth responded smartly, “However, as these dragons aren’t harming anyone, I needn’t think he should be disturbed.”
As these two argued, the two dragons got up off their current victims, who vigorously adjusted their clothes in an attempt to restore some dignity, and began to make their rounds again, having literally found their second wind. There was more smooshing and farting as the dragons shoved their big stinky hindquarters in people’s faces and pressed various passengers into the backs of the seats with their large scaly butts. Granted, there was no way for the two dragons to get by one another, given the limited width of the train, so Lyle gassed the passengers in the back half of the car, while Fredrick stunk up the front, although the gases from both could be smelt all round. It quickly became clear that the two playful reptiles were trying to make sure every passenger, with the exception of women and children, received a face full of dragon wind before the train reached its destination, and thusly it was only a matter of time before I was included. Lyle approached my seat with a huge grin on his face, and I heard him purring as Fredrick farted away nearby.
“Hullo there, little human,” he said cheerfully, “I can smell that you haven’t received a dragon gift yet, have you?” He winked and laughed, and quickly turned around before I had a chance to reply.
His fat blue rear stunk immensely. His tail hole was noticeably filthy, and small smears of dried dragon poop emanated outwards from it, making for quite a dirty dragon derriere. I groaned as the warm smelly scales were pressed up against me, quickly surrounding me in the stench of dirty dragon bottom. The reptile’s butt pressed heavily against me as he sat down, his disgusting anus directly in front of my nose. His tail hole opened and flatulence erupted in my face, warm and nasty and wet. I could hear him laughing above me, though it was muffled through the fat on his rump. He wiggled and his weight shifted and smooshed up against me, and I groaned knowing the stench of dragon butt and flatulence was going to get in my clothing. Another humid fart erupted, the winds of the blast slightly ruffling my hair.
“Hee, hee, this is quite lovely!” Lyle declared, wiggling his rear, “You know, I knew there was something different about you, human…” he paused to fart again, rank wet gas assaulting my nostrils, “Ahhh, pardon me, where was I? Ah, yes, I can sense that you’re not as uptight about our sense of humor as other people. You’re like Edward and his friends, you think it’s fun and funny, don’t you?” he farted some more and sighed, clearly sitting on me for longer than he had the other passengers, who had only received two or three farts at most.
“I… I can’t imagine I have the foggiest idea of what you’re talking about,” I stammered, grimacing, as the stench was quite strong from my unfortunate position.
“It’s okay,” the dragon purred, trying to reassure me, “You don’t have to admit it if you don’t want to. But just remember… other humans may judge you, but dragons won’t.”
I lay there under his flatulent backside, enduring a few more deep farts as I thought about what he said. I realized several more things in that moment: I hadn’t any real desire to get married in the slightest, for one. I really didn’t care what the devil bloody society thought of me, for another, although I knew I still had to pretend that I did. I also knew that for all my love of Blakean ideals and Romantic poetry and democracy, which was indeed genuine, what I wanted to do more than anything was express myself more freely. I resolved in my heart to follow the surest course of action.
Lyle and Fredrick continued to stink up the train as we finally approached our destination, and the other passengers continued to be furious, despite the affectionate purring and nuzzling of the dragons after breaking wind in their faces. The boys continued laughing and encouraging their scaly companions, who lifted their hind legs and wiggled their backsides and lay on their backs as gas blasted loudly from their tail holes. When the train pulled into the station, they flapped their wings and helped to air out the car, which still stunk horribly and probably would continue to do so for several hours afterwards, thanks to the prodigious amount of flatulence that the young dragons had expelled during the trip. For my part, I groaned and complained and even threw a few harsh words in the dragons’ direction, though I had to laugh on the inside. Despite how truly disgusting and gross it smelled, their gas was funny and… somehow liberating from the stodgy atmosphere that pervaded the car in the attitudes of the other passengers.
As we got off at the station, the sun had come out and the birdsong could be heard. The dragons flew off after gleefully wishing everyone goodbye, and I thought I saw Lyle turn to look back at me and nod as they did so.
“Weren’t those creatures simply horrid?” asked a man as everyone headed down the platform away from the train.
“Yes, I do suppose they were,” I replied falsely, half-interested.
I departed towards my destination, knowing exactly what I would do when I returned to the city. I had never felt so improper in my life.