A Soft Spot for Dragons 

By Strega 
Story Copyright (C) By Strega
 2001 - All rights reserved.

Story not to be reprinted, or redistributed, 
without author's Permission.

If you wish to use the stories, or 
anything copyright by me, please e-mail me.
I'll also forward any mail to the author.

  A soft spot for dragons

Virsa was admiring his reflection in the river when he saw the weaselpede.

He was a green dragon, and naturally, he was almost entirely shades of that color. The darkest greens were concentrated on his head-top,
and down his spine, irregular blotches of the hue wrapping down his sides, mixing with the slightly lighter green there. His thick, leathery
skin wrinkled as he bent to look at himself, dark green showing too in the folds of skin; his belly was a still lighter, almost yellowish green.
Strong, long-clawed legs were mottled with the darker shades; the only parts of him that lacked the coloration were his bone-colored,
twisted horns, like-colored talons, and his cat-yellow slit-pupiled eyes.

The weaselpede was completely different. A long, slender, furry creature, a little longer than his 75 feet, pelted in black fur so glossy it
shone. A white-fur mask accented the obsidian-dark eyes, the mask continuing around the back of the head to join curved white stripes that
mottled the length of the thing in an almost random pattern. It slid from the woods a quarter mile distant, carried on a forest of short legs,
and cast its gaze back and forth, fixing on him after a moment.

Slowly, it approached, huge paws sinking into the grass, while he thought about flying away. His kind didn't need wings to fly, and he could
be gone in a moment. But…he was a young dragon, but old enough to think females interesting. He head heard things about a creature like
this. Supposedly there was just the one, a female, and she was…interested in dragons.

"Good afternoon." Her voice was a sibilant hiss, with a little growl thrown in. Up close, she (?) was somehow a cross between a weasel
and a snake, her head resembling a giant ferret's, her long, slinky body held up by at least ten sets of legs. At the far end of it all flicked a
python-thick furry tail with a white brush at the end. Half-hidden in all the fur was a stretchy-looking harness studded with peculiar

"Hello." He canted his head to the side, trying to get a better look at her. "I've not seen anything like you before." He took a small step back;
the thing was even larger than he'd thought, definitely more massive than he was, and each massive paw had foot-long, curved white claws.

"No need to be nervous." The long, white whiskers curved up (a smile?), and the muzzle wrinkled pleasantly. "There's only one of me. I
didn't always look like this; this body is something of an accident. You see, I was eaten by a dragon once."

"Eaten?" Virsa raised an eyeridge. "So why are you here now? Being eaten is usually a one-time thing, yes?"

She nodded, and smiled again. "Normally, yes. But you see, this dragon's in the habit of eating everyone he meets that he can convince to
stand still long enough, the bigger the better. But he is also a kind-hearted sort, and he uses a sort of magic to bring his meals back. He so
badly wants to eat people - other dragons, humans, and anything in between - that he goes to great lengths to make sure they come back."

"So you came back." Virsa sniffed, catching a whiff of her strong scent. Musk, not weaselly at all, more reptilian; a hint of pine needles,
presumably from her travels; and most of all, a dragonish scent, the reek of a female dragon in season. At once, and against his better
judgement, he began to eye her with thoughts of mounting in mind. All those legs, but still, if he approached in the usual way….

She tilted her head to the side now, noticing his interest. "Mm. Yes, I came back, but there was a problem with the magic, and I ended up
something of a cross between my old shape and a dragon. A dragonish weasel-pede." She sidled up to him, the fur of her flank bristling out
over his skin as she pressed her side to his own. "Since then, I have had a…fondness…for dragons."

He leaned hard against her, as several of her huge paws wrapped around his torso. She wasn't a dragon, but she smelled like one, and her
scent was intoxicating. He wrapped a claw of his own around her neck, and nibbled on her neckfur, as he shifted his hindclaws next to her.
If she had been a true dragoness, she'd probably want to talk, get to know him; but this warm, furry creature had come close, welcoming his
lust. In a moment, he would just step over her, and mate.

She wanted to play first, though. Wriggling in his grip, she put another paw around his body, and another, still other paws tangling with his
foreclaws. The long, furry python-tail twined around his own, pulling his flank in closer, but he couldn't mount her while all those paws
gripped at him. There were so many, tangling with his hindlegs too now, her long, sinuous body pressing against his own along his whole
length as at least twenty of the six-toed paws snugged him close. Pink pawpads splayed out over his skin, wrinkling it up in thick folds.

"Hh, hey." He pulled his snout away from her nape, and found paws on his head too, one gripping a horn, two on his muzzle, holding it shut
so it was hard to talk. "I can't…a little tight." He shifted his weight, pushing against her belly, but could hardly move her, the creature
gripping him like a flexible serpent, just bending where he pushed. He shook his head, as best he could; the fire was still upon him, the need
to mate, but suddenly, the way she gripped him was…disturbing.

"Not your sort of play? I know what you want." She whispered into his frilled ear, and a paw slid beneath his belly - amazing, that she had
one to spare, with all the others holding him - to stroke the bulge there. He rumbled, pleased…but then the paw left, and she spoke again.
"You want to mate, Virsa. My need is just as simple…but it's not the same need." Her muzzle pulled back, sliding around so she looked at
him nose-on, and she yawned.

Virsa watched her nosepad go up, and a great, pink maw opened before him. Huge serrated fangs at the front of the mouth folded flat as
he watched, leaving only little side-teeth, pointed and angled towards the back of the mouth. The weaseless was broad across the back of
her jaws, the gulletmouth visible amongst the folds of pink skin. A soft, darker-pink tongue slid out past the black lips to caress his chin
wetly, and he woke from his paralysis.

"Now wait a minute!" He jerked in her grip, eyeing the gulletmouth fearfully. This was not a good joke to play! Somehow he knew that her
throat could expand to fit in his head, and the way she was holding him…"Let go!"

She didn't. The maw came down, and he snorted out a puff of toxic gas into the pinkness. His breath was as deadly as any dragon's, and he
managed a stream of it from his nostrils even with his muzzle held shut.

It should have burned the delicate skin terribly, but somehow it didn't hurt her at all. It just eddied in the hollow of her mouth, then was
puffed back out as she exhaled. Her paws shifted, pulling him towards her jaws, and he jerked convulsively, trying to keep his nose back.

But her head pushed forward, now, and his chin slid up her tongue. Saliva dripped onto his long snout, and he puffed out another gout of
chlorine. "Stop! Don't eat -" his cry ended in a long muffled grunt, as his snout pushed past the root of her tongue, squishing into her throat.
Wet, soft skin stretched over his nostril-ridges, her paws pushing him in deeper, her chops wrinkling back, sliding up his snout.

The throat was hot and slippery on his muzzle, expanding upward, a warm, sucking grip as she swallowed lightly to loosen her gullet where
his dry skin tried to stick to it. Thick streams of saliva drooled down over his snout, and then her white chops slid up over his eyeridges. The
paws that had held his muzzle shut shifted one by one to his horns, and with a great heave of effort she overcame his frantic resistance and
pushed his head into her jaws.

Everything went dark and dank as his eyes were covered, and he jerked back so hard he felt muscles lock up in his neck. It seemed that
every joint in his body flexed at once, as he cracked himself like a whip, desperately trying to get his head loose, or a least a claw.

The effort was met with shooting pain across the top of his head, his eye-ridges, and the skin under the shaggy hair-like tendrils that formed
his 'beard'. The little side teeth she had, that'd looked so harmless next to the two-foot fangs, dug into his hide. Strong as his skin was, he
felt the fangs pierce it, felt the trickle of blood down an eyeridge, there in the dark. He couldn't pull back, she had teeth like a snake…the
only way to loosen them was to go deeper.

Then the grip of the teeth loosened, the pain fading away. Her jaws relaxed their bite, and he renewed his struggle, guessing she wasn't
opening her muzzle to let him out. As her paws pulled his horns, driving his muzzle deeper into her gullet, he struggled to free at least one set
of claws; but as he'd felt a moment before, at least two of her short, strong legs were wrapped around each of his longer ones, and he
couldn't even touch her with his saber-like talons.

He squirmed, then, trying to tire her out, to do anything to keep what was happening from happening. But as he struggled, she fed; her
chops slipped up over the roots of his horns, beginning to cover the twisted ivory, and her tongue pushed hard at his underjaw, all the while
her paws were pulling his horns in toward her maw. With a wet gurgle, she swallowed, her gullet gripping down around his snout, sucking
him deeper into the squelchingly wet tunnel of flesh. Her jaws slipped easily over his head, and he felt his horns click-click-clicking against
her fangs as the gulp pulled his head down her throat, his neck slipping in after.

As the dark, hot throat expanded over his neck, foot by foot, he tried a new attack; he did his best to dig his horns into her gullet, swinging
his head from side to side, and tilting it forward and back. He felt the throat stretch around the horns as they were fully engulfed, and with
frantic tugs he tried to ram the points in; but each push turned out to move his head only half a foot, so closely did her gullet enclose him.
Another gulp, and the slick gullet clenched down around his cheeks, forcing him still deeper, his neck almost entirely devoured now. Her
paws were busy farther down, forcing his forelegs against his sides, avoiding his frantic attempts to claw her. As her lips began to spread
across the thickening where his neck met torso, he felt a new tightness around his snout; the relentless swallowing had pushed his head
down into the start of her ribcage.

He became conscious of a strong, thudding pulse in the walls around him. Not one, but two heartbeats, and around that, the creak and pop
of stretching muscle and bone as it parted to let him slide deeper. It was becoming uncomfortably warm, her body temperature over one
hundred degrees, the air in her throat damp and fetid.

Air? He twitched in surprise, realizing he'd drifted for a moment, almost hypnotized by the rhythmic 'massage' her throat-muscles gave him.
In the slime of her gullet, there was air, and plenty of it; somehow, the enormous weaselly creature was breathing, even with his head down
her throat. As her side-teeth hooked their way up over his forelimbs like a serpent's jaws, he sucked in a deep breath, recovering…and
exhaled a great gust of chlorine.

That hurt her! He felt the throat spasm, felt the female jerk as though burned, where she lay with him half inside her. And it had burned her,
whatever curious immunity she had to his breath not protecting her here. Should it get into her lungs, it might even kill her. Escape was not
out of the question yet!

With new determination, he dug his hindclaws into the grass, took a grip on her tail with his own, and tugged his horns back into the skin of
her throat. The flexible gullet stretched - it was thin all around him, he realized, his half-swallowed bulk must stand out through her fur like a
sculpture - and he tilted his head, pulling his horntips close to his nape so they wouldn't catch. He strained his neck, struggling to pull back
out of the awful, engulfing throat.

And he pulled back! Hot saliva loosened from the gulletwalls dripped down over his snout, and he coughed it from his nostrils as his head
pulled back up her throat. Two feet, another foot, and another. He could feet her neckfur stretching, feel her little teeth dig into his
shoulders. Even with them there, he pulled back.

And then she swallowed. A great wave of muscle broke over his shoulders, pushing them down into her throat, crowding them against his
neck. The gullet tensed and rippled in waves, the hungry gulp pushing at him from all sides, squeezing his neck out of the arch he'd made to
try to pull out. The muscles beneath the slippery throatskin gripped in bands, rippling downward, and he was pushed deeper again, his head
sliding into the tightness of her torso.

When the throat-tensing gulp reached his horns and cheeks, it gripped at them as well, forcing his head to slide even deeper into her body.
Ribs were expanding around him now, felt as hardnesses beneath the surrounding flesh, each gulp popping one or two more over his
eyeridges, like a claw dragged along a human's picket-fence. Pop-pop-pop, he slid deeper. Her jaws were to his midsection, and hooking
eagerly forward, teeth gripping as the weasel-pede-serpent swallowed hungrily.

She was stretched thinner still around him now, and he wriggled convulsively, desperately, as the serpent-fangs hooked down over his waist.
His struggle made her whole body jerk and twitch as though in sympathy, and the paws loosened on his hindclaws. He kicked at the grass,
trying to find a boulder to cling to, for he didn't think his wriggling had dislodged her grip. And he was right, for her free paws pushed his
hindlegs out along his tail, where other paws grabbed them and held them tight. Her lips were around his hips, now, the widest part of his
body; he could feel her distended jaws creaking around his pelvis.

The paws were part of the problem; so many of them, all tugging in unison, forcing him bit by bit into her jaws. He hadn't noticed at first, but
even when she was not actively swallowing, he still slid deeper, if more slowly. The brief respite he'd had when he pulled his head back had
been an illusion; she just had too many paws to fight. She was like a serpent; but while a serpent strangled its meals senseless before eating,
she had no need. Even a dragon nearly her size, who came too close, risked being gripped and swallowed alive.

She was creeping along the grass, now. His movements made her squirm where she lay, her forward parts grossly swollen, her feeding
continued despite his efforts.. He could feel the fur and muscle rippling over him, the cool, morning air just a claw's-length away…but she
crept along the grass, holding his twenty-ton bulk down, and rather than gulping him down, pushed herself forward to take in another foot,

The tight muscular band that stretched up over his nostril-ridges woke him from his daze, his head sliding easily into a looser space. The
stink of digestion told him where he was arriving, but he managed only a lethargic wriggle as his head slipped entirely into her belly. The
loose folds expanded as more of him arrived, the 20-foot-long stomach encompassing his head and neck before growing taut with
half-curled dragon

He considered exhaling the last of his poison breath, but it'd hardly hurt even her gullet, and he knew the walls would be tough here. He
kicked a hindpaw, felt that one was on either side of her lower jaw now, his bulky hips straining her dislocated jaws. A few minutes ago,
he'd been full of lust; it was gone now, replaced with dread.

Chops tickled his tail-root, her tongue pressed up against his groin, and then an enormous gulp, and the throat slid up over his rump, pulled it
in as well. He was falling. That's what it felt like…a slow, unstoppable descent, the hot skin around him pushing at him, forcing him slowly
away from her jaws. He lashed his tail, felt it sliding past her little sidefangs as the bulk of him slid down her throat. His shoulders crowded
into the belly, bulging it out heavily, and he managed to get a claw against the outer wall. He could still hurt her….

But that effort was frustrated too. No sooner did his forelegs enter her belly than half a dozen or more of her legs wrapped across the bulge
he was becoming, and bore down in a crushingly tight hug. He was just an enormous lump in her fur now, her belly distended, half her
formerly slinky torso ahead of that swollen with dragon.

She was still swallowing, working his hips down her throat, filling her entire body with dragon. The belly stretched, grew taut against his
eyeridges, folding in around his shoulders. Perhaps half of him fit inside it. Slowly, the slide stopped, the air still cool on the last parts of his
tail. He lashed it back and forth, and squirmed.

And more and more of her paws joined the hug, keeping his hindlegs quiet in her throat, his muzzle shut in her belly, and his sharp foreclaws
pinned in the stifling heat. He thrashed, jerking his body with all his might, as the stomach-walls rolled over him, kneading stinging slime into
his every contour. What had he heard about her? That she liked to meet dragons? He remembered now; someone had said she was 'man
hungry'. And…how had she known his name?

He struggled, entirely inside the female now. The belly-walls around him were strong, but thin; perhaps he could get a claw free….

She lay twitching, her massive length answering to the inner struggles, for nearly half an hour. Even after the dragon ran out of air, still his
body moved, jerking and kicking. She couldn't take the time to deal with the six feet of tail that whipped back and forth from her jaws, for
she must make sure the dangerous meal was fully subdued. Her many paws hugged the long bulge in her sable fur, keeping the dragon's
claws and horns still.

There came a time when the tail went limp. She eyed the spade-tip of the tail with a clinical sort of interest, then sucked it in like a fleshy
noodle. Her paws couldn't reach her nose, and rather than bend her head around, she simply drew it in, gathered it in her cheeks, and gulped
it down to join the rest of the dragon.

He crowded her belly, head and neck and shoulders straining the strong walls and the pelt outside; his shape bulged through her fur like a
deeply etched carving. Forward of that, his long torso swelled her slinky shape; almost to her neck, she bulged, her pelt stretched
sausage-skin tight around dragon-chest and hips and tailroot. His tail was bent double, pushed down against his rump where it lay just
beneath her collarbones, her entire body stuffed to bursting with dragon.

Another bubble of air worked its way past the bulk of the dragon, and she belched massively, as she had half a dozen times in the final
struggle with the swallowed dragon. Virsa's tail twitched in her gullet, provoking a hiccup, and then she did bend her head around, to eye the
largest of the gems in her harness. On closer examination, perhaps it wasn't a gem; it had more the look of a made thing, and it had a new
glitter to it.

"Mm. Got you good…again." She lay her head to the grass wearily, and considered remaking the dragon with a bit more memory of this
encounter this time. Virsa was wonderful prey; immensely strong and wriggly, filling (and it required a lot to fill her belly), and incautious
enough to be lured close. But replaying the same encounter, once every couple of months when she encountered him in her wanderings, did
get a bit dull.

Perhaps next time she'd tell him a bit more. She truly had been eaten by a dragon; but that dragon had been in her stomach at the same

They had been, and were, good friends. He'd given her the harness she wore, that let her re-create her prey just as he recreated his. And
then he'd provided her a potion that expanded her enormously. His long, serpentine dragon-shape had fit past her jaws easily.

And then he had eaten her, after she recreated him. She was in him, and he in her. Both of their harnesses used the same magick; when
he'd recreated her in turn, his had been just confused enough to recreate her as…this.

She belched mildly, and rose to her paws, dragging herself off to the shade to sleep off her meal. Virsa's head and foreparts, flesh and bone
alike, would digest first in the strong juices of her stomach. The rest of him would be pushed down to replace them bit by bit, dissolving in its
turn, until in a week or so her powerful belly had absorbed him entirely. If she stayed still, rested, this meal would stave off her hunger for
two weeks or more.

Before then, she would recreate him. Dragons were the only prey large enough to truly satisfy the ravening hunger of this enormous form.
Not recreating him would eliminate a needed, and entertaining food source. Not to mention that for all her pitiless hunger, she did have a
soft spot for dragons. That thought brought a grin to her muzzle, an unintended pun, and she curled up as much as she could to rest.

Virsa was in a very soft spot, now.

The End