Dragon Core

by Sain Artwell

Left alone, Alron began experimenting with his connection to dragonized material. He’d not dared to do so before, but with his lust so high, there was no risk of accidental ascension. Closing his eyes, Alron focused on three sensations coming from outside his own flesh.

  Distant though they were, he could parse three distinct outlines: One tight and stretched, two hard and compressed. All of them were hot against a woman’s body heat. When Fei moved, the latter two sent Alron faint pulses of sensation similar to having his cock stroked. Tactile sensations blurred together, not as intense as when she was over his knee. Alron pondered, why was it he could sense pleasure through the two tools inside Fei, but not through the dress? Did intent govern which senses the dragonized items possessed? Something to try out later.

  Occupied by his expanded senses as Alron was, he could not help but notice that Fei was taking an awfully long time changing clothes. Muffled moans and stifled whimpers emanated through the door. Another hot body pressed against the front of Fei’s dress tightly, as if they were hugging, or, more likely, Sofi was pressed against the wall and being groped into submission.

  Time for another experiment. Alron focused on the dragonized tools filling Fei’s holes, and extended his will through them. They barely moved. The link was faint, as blurred by the distance as the feedback of sensations. Commanding the tools felt restrained, as if he was shouting orders to someone on the bottom of the Deepfathom Sea. A minor obstacle really, nothing he couldn’t overcome. Alron focused the entirety of his mind to the task, forcing the tools to obey and move!

  After a slight delay, the one in Fei’s ass squirmed against its fleshy confines. Her startled moan was followed by the sound of a horny woman in a tight dress collapsing on her knees—a very particular sound including horny moans and stumbling. Victorious, Alron chuckled softly.

  “Do not keep me waiting,” Alron called out.

  Sounds of hurried shuffling. A very brief moment later, the women returned onto the centre dais. Once again, Fei proved that a century of imprisonment had not eroded her talents in plundering other people’s wardrobes.

  Patterns of lace a shade darker than Sofi’s hair hugged her, neither supporting the weight of her breasts, nor truly concealing them. The opaque patterning woven across her merely drew attention to what the fabric left transparent, namely everything that normal clothing endeavoured to conceal. A set of gold trimmed lace chokers, stockings, garter, and fingerless sleeves completed an ensemble fitting to be worn on the debut night of a slave entering some clan patriarch’s harem.

  “Hm.” Alron gestured for her to spin.

  Sofi rotated slowly, her demeanor subdued and quiet.

  “I took the liberty of discarding the skirt and cloak this came with.” Fei traced fingers over Sofi’s shoulders. “Your judgement, o’ Master?”

  “Approval.”

  “Like an heiress freshly sold into slavery, isn’t she?” Fei mused. “Cute in her manners, fidgety with anxiety, and rotten within with suppressed depravity and desire.” He could smell her arousal, as it suffused the thin fabric stretched over her loins.

  “Mm, let us ease that anticipation. Come to me,” Alron beckoned, standing tall. Herded by Fei, Sofi came to stand beneath his wandering gaze. Alron tilted her chin up, and said, “Hold still.”

  The tip of his claw brushed her collar, body, and other garments, spreading through them his dragonizing vis. Black matte turned a deep reflective crimson, becoming an extension of Alron’s senses, reminding him of the several handfuls of exquisite softnesses which Sofi possessed.

  “Humiliation and choking, was it?”

  His question sent a startled shiver through Sofi. Her pupils widened and breath deepened. “Yes, Master…”

  Musing, Alron’s hand meandered from Sofi’s neck to her collarbone to further still. With a grin, he said, “Then, let us begin.”

  ***

  Alron lounged on a daybed, holding tight onto Fei’s neck as she bounced on his lap, stroking him to a release simultaneous with her own. Satisfaction glowing through him, Alron lifted her on his chest and gave Sofi’s aching sex a nudge with his foot.

  “Slave. Clean us,” he said.

  Sofi reached out, but before she could lay her hands on their stained loins, he clenched the choker tight. In a flash, the girl was reduced to a writhing, gasping mass on the floor. “Did I say to use your hands? Seems you need firmer guidance…”

  Going a step further with his experiments, Alron willed Sofi’s dragonized gloves to move. With utmost care, so as to not cause uncomfortable accidents, he pressed Sofi’s elbows tight against her sides, and fixed her arms folded together under her breasts.

  Thus bound in a faux straitjacket, the girl scrambled to fulfill his command, apologizing frantically, “Apologies, Master… Please forgive me, Master.”

  That look she gave him roused a powerful urge within Alron. She was molten, yearning for his harsh hand to mold her. In this moment, she truly was his.

  Arousal rumbling in his voice, Alron said, “You may ask permission to hump my foot while you clean us.”

  Sofi swallowed. “Master, m-may I hump your foot, while I lick you clean?”

  “Granted.”

  And so, a burning hot tongue scooped pleasure stains off of his and Fei’s sticky nethers. He continued toying with Fei’s breasts and asshole, while Sofi humped herself to a climax against his foot and licked that clean too, before she was allowed a taste of his cock.

  ***

  Alron’s two slaves moaned as they struggled helplessly. Their inner thighs were slick with his seed, and their holes raw from his cock. Alron was growing familiar with his mastery over dragonized objects, limits of various dragonized materials, and limits of his control.

  With a thought, he caused the pseudo-cocks within his slaves to vibrate, driving them to the edge of orgasm, but not quite past it. With another, he tightened their collars to slightly restrain blood flow, turning the two lust-hazed brains into empty echo chambers of obedience and pleasure.

  “Whoever gets me off first will be allowed release,” he said.

  Alron shoved his fingers deep down his slaves’ throats. Sluggish and weary though they were, both women gave their best efforts in attempting to bring his fingers to climax, unleashing the full arsenal of their oral techniques. Neither woman realized they’d been tricked.

  Dragonized veils hugged their heads, leaving bare only their noses and mouths. At one point, Alron had had Fei fetch herself sleeves and stockings to tie her arms and hobble her legs. Both of them knelt before him, stuffed with toys linked to his senses—which left Alron feeling as if he was hip-deep in four holes at once—and raced a futile race to orgasm his fingers. He let them slave at it until they figured it out.

  ***

  Much later, sweat beaded down Alron’s brow. He slid to and from the slippery crevice between two wet slits pressed together. His slaves lay on a table, bound against one another, collars linked by a very short leash, and lips locked in a kiss around a double-sided tool lodged in their throats.

  Alron shot his load into the slick pocket formed by two abdomens glued together by sweat and sex fluids. He felt Fei’s reaction through their bond, a rush of pleasure for being used. As he pulled out, both Sofi and she shivered, softly moaning.

  For hours, neither woman had spoken a word aside from yes, master, more, and please. In mind, and in body, they were truly his in this moment. Even Fei had given into her submissive urges, despite earlier bravado. Alron’s desire for control had been satisfied, though part of him still yearned for more sex. Moments such as these made him miss the convenience of his past harem. Back then, after one or two of his women had been reduced into submissive drones, he could still continue rougher or more sensual sex with another. Back then, he’d been satisfied in body and mind.

  Dismissing the nostalgia, Alron gave Fei’s rear a series of sharp spanks, and watched her squirm against Sofi. Such a delicious sight to behold. He decided to leave them tied up, whilst
taking a rest.

  Alron took a swig of liquid vis to replenish his core. Although the method of its production was a product of one of Rasdrev’s most cruel experiments, it was a marvelous invention, far more efficient than absorbing soulfire of your defeated foes, or natural rejuvenation. Sadly, this was his last flask. Should the fates favor him, Mlevanosk’s message might include a more convenient method of producing it. If not, he might not have an opportunity to experiment with the limits of dragonization in this manner ever again.

  Dark crimson scales covered the floor, walls, and ceiling. Soulfire danced within the dragonized lanterns. Decor had transformed, square angles rounding, artificial designs gaining an organic likeness. The room resembled the inside of an organ; a useless, barely moving organ composed of mis-matched bits and pieces. All of it was an extension of Alron’s senses, all of it a part of him.

  He’d learned that certain substances, such as wood and bone, moved with greater freedom and ease. Others, such as glass and metal, transmitted his senses with greater accuracy. One material exceeded others by fathoms.

  Reaching towards the other side of the chamber, Alron concentrated on a coiled spool of smooth crimson metal. His jadegold glaive unwound. Slowly it slithered across the floor, rising up until it was within his grasp. Alron made the haft and blade snap rigid, then relaxed them again from a coiled spring to a bendy whip.

  Whilst Alron was not a man to be swayed by worldly wealth, he decided then that he needed more jadegold. Perhaps he’d relieve a few of Blackmetal City’s vaults of their treasures before leaving, depending, of course, on what the secrets Mlevanosk entrusted to Sofi were.

  Chapter 23 - Mlevanosk’s Theory of Vis

  “So?” asked Alron, as Sofi retracted her hand from Apocalypse’s spin-core.

  Emotion shuddered through her. She blinked rapidly. “I need a moment…” Sofi sat down, visibly struggling to compose herself. She wiped her eyes. “Mlevanosk, you… you star damned… you. Why couldn’t you say that before?”

  “At least she left you a message,” Fei pointed out, pretending to be absorbed in the task of summoning and dismissing her Dreamfire Parade replica.

  Sofi either didn’t hear her, or pretended not to. She dried her tears and met Alron’s gaze. In her eyes of molten lava burned a new, deeper intensity. “Okay, please understand that she never had a chance to confirm these experiments with her own eyes. Much of this is untested theory. Although I suppose we have witnessed one of her contraptions work as planned.”

  “The Apocalypse, or the other?” Alron looked at the glowing heart in Fei’s chest.

  “Apologies. Two of her designs work as planned.” Sofi produced a stylus and a binder of jadepaper from one of her bags. She began to sketch diagrams and carve down notes. “Let’s start from the beginning, while it’s fresh in my memory. The general consensus is that all living beings generate vis, some more, some less. Mleavnosk, apparently, spent much of her ‘years before confinement’ attempting to create an artificial vis-generator, to little success.”

  “Oh, I remember that!” Fei perked. “She had Oqhist and me help her sew ten immortal lizards together once. The squealing noises they made! It was horrendous!” She laughed. “We made a better one later in my dreams, that one went much better.”

  “Right…” Sofi frowned, correcting a mistake in her notes. “With the Carrion Scourge happening and her clan’s patriarch resisting her marriage to you, Mlevanosk never had time to make much progress. However, the question continued to puzzle her during her imprisonment, especially after Rasdrev robbed her of her body and she didn’t have much else to do. Her dragon-core was broken, so she’d lost her control of vis, but it didn’t stop her. Oh no.

  ”While being tortured to help Rasdrev create the hollow sentinels, Mlevanosk honed her own theories. Eventually, a childhood memory of a species of hornless button-mice she’d seen her patriarch experiment on gave her an idea. She requested information of wyrmkin clan lineages, under some excuse related to a project she’d been working for Rasdrev, and compared inherited vis reserves to those enhanced by vestiges and dragon-core. I can’t say for sure I understood her methods exactly… Mlevanosk’s brilliance was peerless. But it seems she uncovered some huge insights into the nature of vis.

  “Earlier, in the memories contained within her claw, she’d coined the term ‘flavors of vis’. Back then, she’d managed to manipulate them indirectly through vestiges to a limited effect. As a brain, she could still feel vis despite lacking any vestiges, so she figured that vis was not necessarily tied to vestiges or dragongods, it was a quality inherent to life. She believed there might be some mysterious energy source which life naturally converts into vis, in order for life to… well, live. She called this unknown element: Myth.”

  The spark.

  Fei cocked a brow at Alron, then turned to Sofi with genuine curiosity in her voice. “Aren’t dragons the origin of life?”

  “That’s the thing, isn’t it? Life sprouts atop dead dragongods who failed to ascend, and our world itself is supposed to be a big pile of dragongod corpses, so why could vis not be part of them?”

  “So, what did Mlevanosk say?” prompted Alron.

  “She didn’t have an answer to that, yet. However, she continued her experiments with flavors of vis, running various secret experiments with her own life-support systems. In doing so, she discovered a sliding scale of ‘flavors’ between ‘pure-vis’ and ‘dragon-saturated-vis’. Part of the reason no one had noticed it before was because of how infectious draconic-vis is. Vestiges are hungry for pure-vis. Like beasts, they stick their teeth into a source of vis, consuming it rapidly and changing its nature.”

  Alron nodded. “Ah. That’s how you assimilated Mlevanosk’s vestige so quickly.”

  “Yes, I’m getting there… Apologies. I didn’t mean to…”

  Alron waved at her to continue.

  Sofi did. “After purifying her own vis, Mlevanosk attempted to do the same to several others, often with unfortunate side-effects… I was her first success. Over time, she managed to purify my source of vis. It prepared my body to almost instantly assimilate a vestige without the need to dominate it into submission. Just one though, as the new vestige also instantly tainted my source with draconic-vis.”

  “Incredible.”

  “There is more. Around the time Mlevanosk gave me that purifying treatment, she made changes to the original design of a ‘thousand flask vis-harmonizer’, and manipulated Rasdrev into unknowingly building it out of her morphcore. This device was her prototype of a myth manipulator, the one Fei used to create a new vestige out of nothing but vis.”

  “And?” The briefest pause made Alron urge Sofi on.

  She shook her head, finishing a sketch reminiscent of the myth manipulator. “Mlevanosk’s end goal was to combine these two. To create a vestige, or a non-draconic dragon-core untainted by draconic-vis. Apologies, she did have a name for it: A myth-core. She believed that if wyrmkin abandoned draconic vestiges, the wyrmkin society could shed the worst of our violent and oppressive tendencies, and stop ascending into dragongods.”

  Alron sat down onto a dragonized daybed, organizing his thoughts.

  Fei whistled. “That woman was more insane than I am, and I have an army of imaginary children I can hallucinate into being.”

  Alron snorted.

  “It is quite a lot to digest,” Sofi admitted.

  “Yeah. Almost as if she knew everything,” said Fei.

  “Pha-HAH! Apologies. No no, no. Far from it. It takes artistry to turn an artificer’s schematics into a dragonfire engine that doesn’t blow up. Just so, it takes a… Heck, I’ve no idea what it takes to bring a theoretical model of vis into something… whatever such a thing could end up being.”

  “A future without dragongods,” offered Alron.

  “She did mention such ambitions.”

  They paused to share a silence.

  Regardless of the impossibility of the dream, Alron struggled to i
magine what such a world might look like. Where could they live on, if not on the bodies of dead dragons? Furthermore, would Voidwalker remain idly perched upon the Farmoon if she saw wyrmkin desecrate her draconic heritage? Would Corecrawler stay silent deep beneath the crust? Unlikely. The two dragongods had responded to Carrion Scourge’s call, welcoming him to their fold. Whilst they might not interfere in the wars and squabbles of wyrmkin, no parent would idly watch their children burn their home.

  Was that what Mlevanosk had meant, when she said he could find a reason to live after revenge? Had Mlevanosk suspected Alron to possess knowledge of those myth sparks and their relation to dragongods? Because he did. If so, she possessed frightening foresight for someone trapped in a jar, and manipulative skills on par with Sorcerer King.

  Fei’s stare caught his eye. He knew her question.

  Fret not. Mlevanosk’s ambitions, though grand, do not erase my conviction. We’ve still many lives to claim, before we can give a thought to what comes after.

  She smiled. Was afraid she’d won a spot in your heart. I see the way you look at her.

  The brief smile Alron’s lips had held faded. His gaze swept over Sofi as she focused on copying the work of her idol. She’s not Mlevanosk, nor could she replace any one of you. I’m attracted to her, yes. But then again, I’ve always been easily wooed by women possessing passion, beauty, and a broken past. She has all of that. But what we share is many, many months away from love, years from true-love, a century away from my love for you.

  Fei bit her lip, giggling through a grin.

  Sofi gave her a weird look, then promptly returned to her work.

  She knows it too. Though young, she is no idiot, Alron told Fei.

  “Apologies, have I missed something obvious?” Sofi asked. She’d realized they were talking through a bond.

  See? Alron smiled gently. “I would not be able to tell. Your expertise in vis likely exceeds my own.”

  “That’s… thank you for the praise.”

  “Ah, before I forget. Do you still need my advice?”