Georgie and Her Dragon

by Sahara Kelly

  Georgie and Her Dragon

  Sahara Kelly

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2011 Sahara Kelly

  Discover other titles by Sahara Kelly at Smashwords

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover Art Copyright 2011 Sahara Kelly

  Dedication

  Sometimes a writer gets a kernel of a story idea that just won’t go away and leave them alone. Such was the case here. And the result, the little unlikely novella you’re about to read, was one of the most delightful writing experiences. Laughter, to my mind, is an essential part of life. And with these characters, I got to pull out all the stops. I still laugh to this day when I read it. So I dedicate this tiny scrap of absurdity to those readers who, like me, think a good chuckle is worth its weight in gold. And to my friends who share my belief on a daily basis.

  Author’s Note

  I confess that the idea for this fairy tale originated with what I have long considered to be a grievous injustice done to women in ancient times. When it comes to the saints, women had a really rough deal. Take St. Ursula - three arrows to the chest. St. Catherine? Nasty stuff on a torture wheel. St. Joan? Medium well. St. Cecilia - boiled and then beheaded. The list goes on...

  When it comes to the male section of the saint stories, however, things are quite a bit different. St. Augustine became the first Archbishop of Canterbury. St. Francis passed away peacefully surrounded by birdsong. St. George slew a dragon and was rewarded by being made the patron saint of England.

  What’s with the slaying thing, anyway? That earns George sainthood? Knocking off one of the last of the dragons without a nod to the “endangered species” list? Sure, the snacking-on-virgins thing was a nuisance, but was it enough motivation to destroy an entire species? How the hell many virgins were there anyway?

  Being a liberated woman, I decided it was time to set the record straight - both on behalf of the women who lived in that time and also the dragons.

  Not all of them were bad, virgin-chomping brutes. Some weren’t even dragons to begin with...

  Chapter One

  Once upon a time...

  Thus begins all good fairy stories - with a request to the reader. An invitation to travel to faraway places and faraway times, or fantastic worlds peopled with equally unlikely characters. All created in the mind by the words between the covers.

  This story begins with “Once upon a time...” and is followed by the next most-anticipated phrase, “there was a beautiful princess...”

  Unfortunately, this particular princess - although beautiful right from the moment of her birth - wasn’t exactly welcomed by her father the King.

  “What? Another damn girl?”

  “Yes, Sire.” His Seneschal looked apologetic.

  “How many does that make now?”

  “Uh...this one’s the thirteenth, Your Majesty.”

  “Shit.” The King was not known for his aristocratic turn of phrase when irritated. It was a constant trial to the Queen, who was forever trying to get him to watch his mouth.

  He turned to his aide. “Don’t suppose we can drown this one, can we?”

  The man looked shocked. “Absolutely not, Sire.”

  “Fuck.” To give him his due, he did glance around to make sure the Queen wasn’t within earshot, although having just given birth that seemed unlikely. “Well, do something with her, man. Can’t have an unlucky omen like that around upsetting the delicate balance of things. Get rid of her. Banish her. Feed her to those damn elves in the valley.”

  He stalked out of his Royal Chambers, muttering curses aimed at the whole female gender and particularly his wife’s inability to conceive anything other than women. At the door he paused. “I know.” He snapped his fingers and two servants came running.

  The King frowned. “No idiots. I wasn’t calling you, I was just getting a brilliant idea.”

  Bowing low, the servants retreated, chastened by their inability to distinguish summoning snaps of their King’s fingers from “brilliant idea” snaps.

  “Sire?” The Seneschal quirked an eyebrow. “You had a suggestion?”

  “Yep.” He looked smug. “Give her to that damn dragon.”

  The Seneschal, being a man of great wisdom, who rather liked his head just where it was, knew better than to disobey his Sire when he was in this sort of mood.

  So, later that day, he whisked the new babe from the sleeping Queen’s quarters and unceremoniously dumped her on a distant rampart of the castle, far away from where everybody else resided.

  Theobald the Unlucky wasn’t amused.

  But then again, dragons are not known for possessing much in the way of a sense of humor.

  Yes, Theobald the Unlucky - and we’ll get to his name in a minute - was one of the few dragons remaining in the castle environments.

  Years before, there had been a squadron of these creatures, nicely groomed and armed, serving their King with devotion, fiery breath and a lot of well-rehearsed formation flying.

  But then the current Court Designer had decreed that “Dragon’s Teeth” jewelry was the In accessory for everybody who wanted to look trendy and a scientist had simultaneously discovered that ground dragon claws contained an erection-enhancing aphrodisiac which could be converted into a little blue pill.

  After a short time, during which several dragons had tottered around lisping and trying desperately to gum their favorite snacks while their clawless feet tripped over things, it was universally decided by the Dragon’s Local 151 (Fire-Breathing Entity Division) that perhaps now was as good a time as any to negotiate a new contract with another kingdom.

  They’d departed without regret, leaving only a few of the weakest behind as a token gesture to the current administration. Said administration promptly executed the Court Designer, outlawed the little blue pill and placed the remaining dragons on the “don’t touch or you’ll die a nasty death” list.

  There had been four of them still in residence - until a young man named Theobald got unlucky.

  Yes, although young men usually prefer to get lucky, Theobald was always a little behind everybody else. His pimples emerged a year later than his peers, rendering him ineligible date material for the Barnyard Prom. He was a tad shortsighted, not very tall and actually had nothing to recommend him to the opposite sex. Which was sad, since the opposite sex occupied most of his thought processes at that age. Something he did have in common with his peers.

  Theobald had heard whispers of loose women who would - ahem - do things with young men, provided they carried enough spare coins. Being a curious and fundamentally healthy lad, Theo worked hard, saved up his coins and one eventful Friday evening he sneaked out of his room, down the drainpipe, over the pigsty roof and off to find - heaven.

  Which, in his fervid imagination, lay between the sweet whiteness of a woman’s thighs.

  His cock was already half-erect by the time he’d cleared the pigsty and hard enough to hammer nails by the time he’d reached the outskirts of the village and the “house” where he’d heard the women resided.

  They may have resided there, but they wanted naught to do with a pimply adolescent who had scarcely two silver shillings to his name. He was told - rather bluntly - to go jerk himself off and buy some fruit with his money, since that was about all he could a
fford.

  Dejected - and still with a painful hard-on - Theobald turned for home. And this is when Fate, in the guise of a wickedly horny fairy with a rotten headache, took a hand in this story and christened him “Unlucky”.

  “Helloooo? What is the matter, dear lad?”

  Theo stopped at the sound of a musical voice and blinked as an apparition materialized before him. Slender and naked, the fairy fluttered sensually around him, letting him absorb the beauty of her breasts and the flawless milk-white skin of her thighs. “Do you like what you see?”

  Coyly she lifted her bosom and toyed with her nipples.

  Theo, throat clogged with approximately matching lumps of fear and lust, nodded. “Uh...”

  Delicate fairy hands drifted downward to play with her pussy, eventually parting the folds and showing him her fairy clit too. “How about this?”

  By now, Theo was approaching the final stages of a volcano about to erupt. His cock, demanding equal time, pushed past the flimsy ties of his breeches and took a long - er - hard look at the fairy’s assets. He could barely nod, afraid that if he moved his neck more than two centimeters his balls would explode with a pyroclastic flow that might obliterate several villages down the hill.

  Sparkling wings fluttered. “Well, come on then.”

  To his astonishment, the fairy lay down in the soft grass and spread her thighs wide, beckoning him to lie between them.

  Unable to resist her enchanting body, Theo lunged for her, not considering the niceties of lovemaking, but listening only to his inner voice screaming “find a hole”. His pants tangled around his ankles making him stumble. He landed with his cock just touching the fairy pussy that had so delighted him, but before he could sink into her glowing cunt, he lost it.

  Hot jets of come spurted over the fairy, soaking her thoroughly. “Eeeeuwwww. You disgusting boy.”

  Dazed, Theo stared at her, all soft and shiny and glittering where his seed dappled her belly. “You’re so pretty.”

  She frowned. “I was until you - you - schputzed on me.” Her tone was petulant.

  “Schputzed?”

  “Yes, you idiot. You weren’t supposed to come - just play with me, give me fabulous oral sex and make me come. Then I grant you a wish and get rid of my headache at the same time. Don’t you know anything?”

  Theo shook his head, wondering if this was all a bad dream. “Um...sorry.”

  The fairy squinted at him, curling her lip. She didn’t look quite so pretty when she did that, and Theo suddenly remembered the old saying about “never piss off - or fuck with - a fairy.”

  It looked rather awfully as if he’d done both.

  “That’s the last time I try and get a little from a human, you dolt.” She was clearly pissed off. “This is the last straw in what has been, without doubt, the worst day of my life.”

  Theo opened his mouth to point out that his day hadn’t been all ice-cream and merriment either, but he didn’t get the chance.

  “You’re an oaf. And not a very good-looking oaf. I think I should spare the local females from having to deal with someone who can’t keep his dick corked. And a good spell will probably get rid of my headache.” Her wings fluttered violently and Theo took a tentative step backward.

  “Henceforth, you unlucky sod, you will no longer be a human idiot, you’ll be a...a...” She narrowed her eyes for a moment in intense thought, then looked up with a nasty grin. “Got it. Lout thou art, dragon shalt thou be.”

  “Wait...” Theo coughed as a whoosh of fairy dust zoomed up his nostrils and then gaped at the rather unusual sensation caused by his ass elongating into a scaled tail. “Isn’t there supposed to be some sort of undoing spell? You can’t do this to me forever...”

  The fairy considered his words pensively, while Theo’s back busily produced two rather large wings and threw him off balance. He toppled over.

  “Hoookay. Here’s the deal. If you can find a woman who’ll do the nasty in front of you while you watch, then you get to return to human form.” She snickered. “That oughta do it. Don’t think too many females want to get naked and hit high C in front of a butt-ugly dragon.” Her smirk didn’t do a damn thing for her looks.

  “Oh, there is the usual you-can’t-tell-anybody-or-you’ll-be-a-dragon-forever type clause.” Then she lifted her eyebrows. “Hey. Guess what? It worked. No headache. Thanks - bye-bye.”

  She vanished, leaving Theo with what was now a definite snout buried in the dust of the road. He staggered to his feet - all four of them - and blinked. Then he opened his mouth, spat - and belched fire.

  Oh fucking shit. His mother’s cooking wasn’t that great, but it had never had this effect on him. He stumbled through the trees to a pond and leaned over it to catch sight of his reflection.

  Yep. It was all there. Long nose, round open nostrils, big eyes, large ears, a smattering of horns up the center of his face and rather large pointed teeth.

  Theo considered himself, turning his head this way and that.

  Well, it could be worse. He thought he made rather an impressive dragon on the whole. His pimples were gone, he certainly didn’t have to worry about bad breath and maybe there was a female dragon out there who wouldn’t turn away in disgust.

  Now, for those of you who are wondering why Theo isn’t more upset about being turned into a dragon, it certainly helps to remember what it’s like to be a teenager. Being a dragon sometimes seems like an acceptable alternative.

  Theo quickly mastered the use of his wings and flew off to join the small group of dragons who remained in residence at the castle. They did their best not to snicker.

  “Well, lad, you have been unlucky, haven’t you?” (This was said in dragon-speak, which - for the purposes of translation - is being written as English in this story.)

  An older dragon was smirking at him. “You’ll be pleased to know our lives are pretty quiet though, as a rule. Sleep, eat a yog-boar now and again, roar as necessary and then sleep some more.”

  “What about - er - girl dragons?” Theo looked hopefully at the elder creature who clutched his sides, furled his wings and chuckled heartily.

  “Well, two problems with that, lad. First off, dragons aren’t sexually active until they reach about a hundred and two - and second...doesn’t do us no good anyway, because there aren’t any ‘round here.”

  Thus Theobald the Unlucky, a human spirit bewitched into the form of a dragon, spent the next decades learning to correctly belch fire, pick yog-boar bones out of his teeth and occasionally do a little formation flying.

  The one thing he didn’t get was sex. Even masturbation was impossible, since his sharp claws were not the best tools in the world for that sort of thing, and the one time he’d managed to do it without castrating himself, he’d orgasmed and belched fire at the same time. The farmer whose barn he’d incinerated wasn’t happy about it, even though the resulting fountain of dragon-delight had extinguished the flames.

  Morosely, Theo came to accept his sad lot. His memories of being a healthy human lad faded into vague impressions of long-ago dreams and his life shifted then settled into reptilian paths.

  He was just one non-fucking, unlucky dragon.

  *~*~*~*

  And then he met Georgie. The Thirteenth Princess...

  Upon finding the gurgling bundle just outside his roost, Theo wrinkled his nose. It smelled funny, and didn’t look very much like a snack worth getting up from his nap for.

  But it moved, thus it might well be worth investigating.

  Something made him extra cautious with his huge bulk as he circled the blanket. There was a tiny thing inside - a wriggling thing - and Theo curiously nosed the coverings aside.

  He blinked as a little body came into view and backed away as limbs waved and a toothless mouth mewled at him.

  Eeeeuuuuwwww. A baby human.

  His tongue emerged in distaste, one of the habits he’d developed when he’d discovered that humans didn’t care too much for a rather large forked an
d moist appendage waved threateningly in their direction. They tended to walk backwards in a hurry, which was fine by him.

  But then something odd happened.

  The tiny critter reached out a little hand and grasped the tip of his tongue, curling minute fingers around it and holding tight.

  Theo froze as something that felt distinctly like - affection - curled deep inside his body. A pang of protectiveness darted up his third horn and made his ears ache. The little creature still held his tongue but shivered, so he carefully took one claw and recovered it with the soft blanket.

  Then, ever so gently, he curled his body around the entire kit and caboodle, cradling it against the sharp winds that racked the old stone walls.

  “Hello little thing.” Theo spoke the words in his head of course, since firstly dragons couldn’t speak the human language and secondly it was hanging on to his tongue.

  “Goo goo, ga ga.” He heard the sound in his head quite clearly.

  Well now, this was unique. Theo gently eased his tongue from the vise-like grip of the tiny human and considered the implications. It would appear that there was some kind of communication possible, although God knew what language was being spoken.

  He was about to try another experiment - something along the lines of “take me to your leader” - when a female bustled out onto the flagstones, muttering fiercely.

  “Oh there you are. Goodness gracious, the Queen would have the King’s balls strung up from the turret if she knew what he’d gone and done.” She shouldered her way past Theo’s coiled body and retrieved the blanket.

  He snorted, thus getting her attention with a whiff of hot air up her skirt.

  “Now you stop that, you nasty old dragon. This is a princess. Just because the King doesn’t want her around don’t mean that you can have her for afternoon tea, you know.” She shook an admonishing finger at Theo. “He may have given her to you, but you’ll not see her for years an’ years. She’s got to go to Princess School along with the other ones, no matter what her father says.”