Hic sunt dracones

by Tym Greene   

A college student finds out that his former professor (and current boyfriend) has a bit of a secret. Turns out the student has a secret too, one that will likely spell change for the whole campus.

Kevin Connors tugged at the shirt beneath his letterman jacket, trying to stretch it a bit—the freshman fifteen hadn’t exactly stopped at fifteen, nor had it slowed down in the three years since. While his girth (and inability to find clothes that fit properly) had done nothing to help his natural bashfulness, he definitely stood out in a crowd. Perhaps it was his size that had first attracted Professor Drake’s attention, or perhaps it was the way Kevin threw himself into the coursework, asking questions in class and writing insightful papers.

Whatever the cause, the six-foot-tall brunette had found himself growing closer to his professor, attracted not only to the bald head, well-kept beard, and big belly, but also to the brain and spirit within. And now that he’d progressed to other courses, he was able to pursue a less-academic relationship with the grandfatherly Matt Drake.

Kevin fidgeted with his shirt again, and then hitched up his pants, wanting to look good for his—he couldn’t bring himself to say boyfriend, not yet—his good friend and former professor. The elevator dinged and the doors opened, preventing further primping. Professor Drake’s door was just down the hall, and Kevin half thought he could smell the older man’s distinctive scent wafting through the corridor; he didn’t know if it was a special cologne, or a fancy beard oil, or an unusual blend of pipe tobacco, or if it was just the older man’s natural scent. Whatever the source, it always made his blood a little hotter, made him want to draw closer, wrap his arms around the big belly and bury his face in the professor’s thick chest hair.

He checked his watch: it was three-thirty, plenty of time for Matt to have finished his last class of the day, answer any of his students’ questions, and stroll over from the lecture hall. Kevin had to adjust his pants again (specifically the front) as he drew near to the office door. A tentative knock was answered with a grunted, “Come in,” and he opened the door to reveal the gleaming head and snowy white beard bent low over the massive desk that took up most of the little room.

The rest of the space was given over to bookshelves: some with locked doors hiding who knows what ancient and valuable tomes, but the rest visibly sagged under the weight of books on—and from—nearly every era of human history. The big man looked up at his guest and his demeanor entirely changed. He set down the red ballpoint pen and shoved aside the poorly-written term paper he’d been grading and turned his full attention to his favorite former student.

“Kevin, my boy, come in! I suppose I lost track of the time,” he admitted with a blush. Rubbing his head, he stood and walked out from behind his desk, allowing

Kevin to leap forward and wrap his arms around him. “Ha! I missed you too!” the professor grunted with surprise, then followed suit, pulling Kevin closer, their lips meeting in a long kiss. Anyone watching might have thought that they’d been apart for a month instead of just a day, given the fervor of their caresses, the tenderness of the kiss, and the way their eyes closed, shutting out the world.

When they pulled apart, it was with bashful grins. “I see you missed me,” Matt remarked.

Kevin’s hand slipped down to the front of the professor’s khakis: “I see you missed me too.”

Matt matched him leer for leer, his own hand finding the bulge in his former student’s jeans. Kevin moaned, melting in the older man’s embrace, throbbing at the touch; they kissed again, half-hugging with one arm each as they caressed the other’s erections.

Without warning, Matt broke the kiss, a pained look on his face. “Kevin, I—I have to…” Matt tried to speak, to form coherent thoughts, but the passion was too great, the pleasure too much: he could already feel his seams straining. “Oh fuck, Kevin, I…get back, please… I’m going to…”

Surprised and not a little alarmed, Kevin stood back as ordered, giving the other man space for…for what? He could see that something odd was happening, see the way the fat belly and thick thighs seemed to be swelling, making the khakis and sweater vest look like they’d been painted on; he could see the blood pulsing in the long erection that throbbed down one leg, and the nipples looked ready to poke through the fabric that stretched over them.

There was a quiet pop, then another. Quickly the pops became a low tearing sound. Professor Matt Drake flexed his arms, bursting the sleeves of his shirt and revealing oddly-colored skin. He groaned, his mouth holding too many—and toosharp—teeth, his glasses askew on his face as he tossed his head back in a guttural roar. The khakis lost the fight, falling away like they’d been cut from the back—and Kevin could see why, as a long tail curled around the professor’s bare thigh.

He wanted to scream, to laugh, to ask what was going on, to run away, to reach out and touch it and make sure it wasn’t an hallucination, to do something, to do nothing. He stood, watching his beloved professor denude himself thread by thread. The sweater vest was next to go, bursting from the strain of belly and moobs that seemed twice their former size.

With another roar, the changing man seemed to focus his energies downward, and Kevin watched as the black Oxford shoes bulged and pulsed, their glossy surface catching the light and showing every shifting curve. Stress creases formed in the leather, which creaked and stretched before giving up the ghost entirely and bursting. Three thick toes (each one as wide as three of Kevin’s fingers) now pushed out between sole and upper, each tipped with a blunt conical golden claw.

That’s when Kevin noticed the other man’s skin—or, rather, lack thereof: scales had replaced human skin, thumbnail-sized, glossy, and yellow-gold. His eyes took in the creature before him, watching as shredded fabric was removed, more and more scaled flesh was revealed, cock throbbing, chest heaving, eyes pleading; even those had changed: once deeply-mysterious green, now they flashed with gold.

“I…I couldn’t stop it.” the creature-formerly-known-as Matt Drake said in the softest voice Kevin had ever heard him use. “There’s a potion I take that keeps me human, even when aroused, and…I forgot to take it today.”

“So…it’s still you, in there?”

“Kevin, my boy, it’s always been me. I mean, I’ve always been this. You don’t know how hard it’s been, hiding…”

Kevin placed a hand on the scaled forearm. “I can imagine,” he said, recalling all the times he’d had to keep his own feelings hidden. He shuddered at the feel of the inhuman flesh beneath his fingers, but it wasn’t a shudder of revulsion. “So, Professor, this is the real you?”

“This is the form I was born with…almost four thousand years ago now. I’m a dragon…well, dragonman, if you want to be technical. Graha nāra, in Sanskrit, or Aikasama Ágrios in Linear B. ‘Wild pointed-head’ indeed,” he chuckled at the ancient appellation, revealing the same historian’s soul that had first attracted Kevin during his freshman “Into to History” class.

He glanced down at the remains of the professor’s sweater vest. “And you’d been hiding that all this time?”

The long scaley head, still bald and whitely-bearded, nodded. “We decided—the dragonman council—that it was the best solution. There were too few of us: even with our powers, a war with the humans would only be a stalemate, a war of attrition that would only result in ruin for both species, and hatred for the survivors. So we agreed to go into hiding, to use our magics to fit in with the humans, living among them, watching and waiting…”

“Until what? A surprise attack?” Kevin kept his voice light, his eyebrows arched: he couldn’t believe that the man he’d come to care for would be part of some secret conspiracy, let alone one plotting the doom of humanity.

“Ha, no, my boy. Waiting for a chance to reveal ourselves in friendship and love. I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”

“I don’t know, four thousand years is hardly ‘soon.’ Though it does explain why you’re such a good history teacher.”

“What can I say? I’ve lived through a lot.”

Kevin leaned forward, pulling the dragonized professor close. Looking up he realized there must be three feet’s difference in height between them now, the smooth head and frilled ears just inches below the little office’s ceiling. He rested his head against the solid chest, feeling the soft thatch of hair over the firm scales, the warmth and scent that suffused the room a far more concentrated version of the aroma he’d already found so alluring. Professor Drake’s scales smelled like old book leather and rich sweet pipe smoke, with just a hint of brimstone to give it a bit of a spicy kick. Sliding his head to one side, he was better able to inhale deeply of the masculine musk coming from dragon’s armpit, a deliciously concentrated version.

“So…Kevin, it seems like you don’t…mind…this?” The hesitation in the dragon’s voice was almost heartbreaking, the fear of rejection and loss, giving the soft rumbling tones a brittle edge. Kevin wondered if his professor had had this conversation before, if he’d been denied love and respect because of fear; had he had to use some sort of magic or potion to erase the memory of any human privy to his secret? Or had he simply hidden once more, running to a distant corner of the globe to wait until he was forgotten again?

The human wrapped his arms as far around the big fire-filled belly as he could reach, burying his face in the long white beard that dangled between the thick moobs. For a moment, he was silent, feeling the centuries of pain and fear. When he looked up at Matt, there were tears spangling his eyelashes. “Mind? How could

I? This is—you are—incredible! Don’t get me wrong, you were pretty damn hot as a human, but this…” He blushed as his cock jerked in his jeans, and he could feel the dragon’s long shaft starting to re-stiffen, pressing up against his own shirtcovered belly. “I want you,” he whispered, barely audible to himself, but clearly the dragon had keener senses, because he leaned down and placed his lipped beak close to Kevin’s ear.

“I want you too.”

They’d had sex before, of course, and Kevin had always been surprised at how capacious Matt’s rear had been, feeling like the proverbial “hot dog in a hallway” despite his own girth. Now, he thought as he undressed, I know why. He slipped out of his jeans and underwear, leaving his shoes on for traction against the cheap office carpeting, and draped his shirt and jacket on a chair pushed to one side. Arrayed before him was a massive golden ass: looking it over, he could still recognize the shape, the peculiarities of fat and muscle and bone that made Matt Drake’s rump distinctively his, but now there was the thigh-thick tail, the smooth, wide scutes and diamond-shaped scales, not to mention the deeper yellow pucker that seemed to bulge out at him.

Stepping forward, rock hard, he reached down and caressed the heavy balls with their little mohawk of hair running down the middle. Matt started purring, actually purring, at his touch, and Kevin slipped his other hand between the meaty thighs to grip the thick shaft—far too thick for any human to take. Good thing he’s a bottom, Kevin thought, momentarily wondering if the size disparity were the reason for the professor’s preference, or if that were just how he was wired. Shrugging it off, he slid his hand further down, feeling the broad head with its nub-studded corona, and the thick dollop of slick precum that spurted out.

“Guess we don’t need lube,” he giggled, slathering his own cock with the sweetsmelling slimy handful.

The dragon panted, moaning where he sprawled hunched over the desk. “It’s almost like we were built for—nnngh—sex. Ohhh fuck,” he added eloquently as Kevin slid inside.

The hole surrounding his shaft felt bigger, to be sure, but it felt more…dexterous was the only word he could think of as it milked and squeezed and tugged at him. Swiftly overwhelmed by the sensations, his mind danced around with odd ideas, wondering if he could be sucked into the dragon’s hole, slurped up and bundled into a giant egg, or perhaps the tail pressed up against his chest was flexible enough to slip around and spear him in turn…or even how it might feel to lay such an egg himself. He made a mental note to try this with Matt on his back, so he could play with the dragon’s impressive tackle, watch the chest heaving, see the expressions on his beloved’s new muzzle. There was so much to do, so much ahead of them, so much he wanted to try with this beast of a man, so much to learn…but right now the most important thing was keeping his own orgasm at bay for as long as possible.

He almost fell back when the dragon’s shoulders rippled and bulged, sprouting a pair of bat-like wings, the long fingery bones connected by a golden membrane that reminded Kevin of a stained glass window. He reached out to feel them, which set Matt to shuddering and moaning, “No one has touched me there in centuries.”

Despite his surprise, Kevin managed to keep his composure, thrusting into the dragon’s ass as smoothly as he could manage, caressing and stroking the wings as they fluttered and flexed. He didn’t notice his own body changing, only that his shaft seemed to fill more of Matt’s hole, and that he needed to squat a little to maintain the same angle of approach. Then there was a noise behind them.

Kevin froze as they both turned to look at the door: a student in gym clothes had poked through the opening, staring back at them open-mouthed. His face seemed to ripple as his shock softened to surprise, and then melted to obvious arousal.

He leaned into the room as he sniffed and panted, his nostrils looking oddly large as his slightly-bulked-up body was revealed by the opening door.

“Oh, sorry,” he slurred, “Didn’t realize you were busy. I’ll come back later, Professor.” His voice had an odd lilt to it, as though he were holding back a moan. Kevin and Matt watched as he turned to leave, the growing bulge in the front of his workout shorts echoed by a bulge in the back. As he stepped away, they could see a stubby little tail poking out above the waistband, purple-scaled with an orange spike on the tip. Kevin couldn’t help but think that his alterations were reminiscent of Spyro—but a Spyro without polygons, alive and in the real world.

With a swift push of his own tail, Professor Drake shut the door and flicked the lock, but then Kevin’s shaft within him twitched, seeming to grow harder from the movement, and they were both lost to passion once more. He hunched forward, rutting into that golden backside, thighs pressed against thighs, feet brushing talons, so into it that he didn’t notice that the height difference seemed to be lessening with each thrust.

Kevin did notice a growing pressure around his feet, as though his shoes had shrunk. Still focusing on the hole wrapped around his cock, he straightened out his bunched-up toes. There was a moment of resistance, a popping, ripping sound, and then he felt them wiggling free once more. Something was brushing against the backs of his thighs, but he ignored it, feeling himself drawing closer to climax.

An ache on his back and a whoosh of air threatened to break his concentration too, but Kevin Connors was no quitter. He grabbed onto Professor Drake’s tail, pulled the meaty thickness to his chest, warm scales against warm scales as he humped into the dragonman he now towered over. Then he realized: scales! His chest, his arms, his big round belly…they were all sprouting thick hair and covered in glossy green and yellow scales!

“Oh…fuck, Professor…I’m…” was all he could get out before a triumphant roar burst from his lungs. His loins surged, scale-covered balls drawing up tight as he pumped his first load of dragoncum into his beloved professor’s hole. Several books fell from their shelves with the power of that roar, the vibrations of his powerful hips, and the thrashing of his wings.

He flopped onto Matt’s back, shifting the thick tail to one side so it wouldn’t get crushed, and waited for his cock to soften enough to pull out. As he did so, he took stock of himself: sure enough, his chest and belly had broad yellow scales, and his shoulders, and arms, and—what he could see from this angle—legs all had diamond-shaped green scales on them, scales that somehow also had hair growing from them, making him look like the bearish men he’d envied.

Kevin felt bigger too, his head threatening to scrape the ceiling if he stood up straight. And not only had he grown a tail just as thick and long as the Professor’s, but he also had a pair of bat-like wings as well; reaching back to touch the translucent yellow membrane of a limb that hadn’t existed an hour ago was nearly enough to send him rocketing through another orgasm. The way his slowly wagging tail seemed to tug at his hole and taint didn’t help matters either.

Glancing down, he caught sight of his right shoe: the front end had burst, splitting between the sole and upper, and revealing three thick, bulbous, clawtipped claws, just like Matt’s. They were covered in the same green scales as most of the rest of him, and wiggled when he sent thoughts their way; he couldn’t feel any other toes, and assumed that they’d been merged into the three when he changed species.

“I…I don’t know what just happened,” Professor Drake moaned beneath him. “Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming…this sort of thing, it’s never happened before. Unless…you’re not secretly a dragonman too? But no, I would have smelled that.”

Kevin sniffed at that, smelling the professor’s pipe-and-old-book aroma, but also a new scent. It was cool and fresh, quite unlike what one would expect to come from two massive beasts rutting. He lifted his arm—so much bigger and heavier than it’d been just a few minutes ago—and inhaled through the soft tuft of hair. His new draconic nostrils held far more scent receptors within them, it seemed, than even the best human nose. He found himself able to distinguish several dozen different scents: the floor polish used on the linoleum tiles outside the office, the lingering sweat wafted in by the interrupting student, the age, sex, and general health of several people who’d walked down the hallway in the past few hours, and the peppermint aroma that seemed to be exuded by his own body. Beneath that, he realized he could smell a hint of spice that his newly-upgraded snout labeled as “dragonman.” Yes, he could have smelled what I was, he thought, especially if I weren’t human.

But the professor was lost in thought now, even with the new dragonman’s cock still tucked up under his tail. “It almost sounds like…but it can’t be…” Abstractly, he pushed himself up off the desk (which seemed to have subsided a bit from the humping) and pulled away from Kevin, whose cock slipped out with an almostaudible pop and a spurt of cum that dribbled down Matt’s leg. The peppermint smell in the room increased a thousandfold, but the golden dragonman was too intent on his inner debate to notice. His bobbing erection pointing the way as he shuffled over to one wall, withdrawing a large tome, A History of Drachman University Faculty Dissertations, Vol III, the sort of dry-looking text that was sure to be ignored by anyone intent on searching the office for plunder.

Kevin watched as the naked, thick-set, bearded, and balding dragon opened the book, revealing blank pages and a rectangular hole. Professor Drake reached in, sticking his arm far further than the book should have had any space for, rummaged around, and finally withdrew it with a small scroll clutched daintily between his talons. “Yes, here it is…I can’t quite believe it…” He held up the scroll and tapped gently at a line of marks that looked like sets of claw-scratches. “It’s an ancient prophecy, talking about a human who can become ‘dragonkind’ without the use of spells or potions, and how he will be key to the future of our two species.”

“You mean…me?” Kevin ran his claws over his body, feeling the new scales, the new muscle and fat of his changed body. Looking at the room around him, he realized that he was taller even than his beloved’s massive form, and both of them were several feet bigger than they’d been as humans. He thought hard, focusing all of his mental energies on his right hand, held before his snout. His grunt of surprise and effort caught Matt’s attention: they both stared as a pinkie split off from the left-most finger, scales retreated and claws withdrew, leaving a smaller, pinkish, and very normal, human hand. He relaxed his focus and, like a tennis ball returning to shape after being hit with a racquet, his draconic hand popped back to existence as though it had never left. “So,” he asked tentatively, “you can’t do that?”

“Not without taking the potion that helps me maintain my human guise, and then it’s all or nothing, I can’t go piecemeal. And did you see Josh? The student who burst in on us?” They both chuckled bashfully at the memory of being walked-in on mid-passion. “It’s like he just suddenly accepted the reality of two dragonmen fucking being entirely normal. And he didn’t even notice his own changes. I’ve never seen anything like that before, not in all my years…” he moaned and bit his lip, a hand reaching down to his own arousal. “Speaking of which…I can’t take my own potion until I, um, take care of this…”

As swiftly as he could move his massive new body in the small and closely-packed room, Kevin stepped up next to the gold dragon, wrapping his arms around the thick, hairy chest and sharing their first kiss as non-humans. “As much as I’d love to have you stay this way, Professor, I’ve got no clue if Josh’s reaction was a fluke or what. Let’s get you back to normal.” His meaty, three-fingered hand slipped down to caress the shaft, his thumb stroking the smooth head of the alien member.

Moaning at the touch, his pulse throbbing in his temples (and elsewhere), the older man managed to mutter: “I think…by this point, nngh, you’ve earned permission to call me ‘Matt,’ Kevin.”

“Okay, Matt, though I’ll admit it’s an unusual name for a dragon. Still,” he gripped the base of the shaft where it emerged from smooth scales beneath the overhanging round belly, “I think it’s pretty sexy.”

With a roar, Professor Drake came. The power of his built-up orgasm sent a long jet of cum shooting through the open office window, arching through the air and splashing down somewhere in the campus aquatics facility, which was next door to the Humanities building. Neither of the two dragonmen noticed, however, as

Kevin was too busy milking every last drop from Matt, and Matt was too overwhelmed for any sort of thought.

Licking the cum (with its intense flavor profile like a concentrated mix of smoke and old books, a distilled essence-of-Matt) that had dribbled down his hand, Kevin surveyed the damage. Many of the books that lined the room had been knocked askew, but thankfully none of them seemed to have been damaged. The professor’s desk, on the other hand, had taken a beating: crushed down in the middle from Matt’s weight and the power of Kevin’s thrusts, and raked across its surface by two different sets of claws, it would need quite a lot of repair, if not outright replacement. And then he noticed his clothes.

“Aw man,” Kevin groaned as he lifted up his letterman jacket, a gift from his friend Hart. An errant claw swipe had nearly split it in two, from shoulder to waist, right across the back. He’d draped it across his chair, but then he hadn’t expected to grow claws at the time. His shoes and socks were ruined, of course, unless you liked the werewolf-bursting-out kind of fashion. And of course the professor’s clothes had been completely shredded by his transformation.

Matt looked up from the drawer he’d been rummaging in, holding up a vial of deep violet fluid. “What’s wrong?” He glanced at the other dragonman. “Oh, I see. I’m sorry about your jacket, Kevin; it’s not as though either of us could have predicted this, though. You know what, why don’t we head over to the football stadium, Paul—Coach Cummings—owes me a favor and I’ll bet he’s got access to plenty of new letterman jackets, maybe a size or two bigger, too. Can you change back? I’m afraid this potion is only formulated for hiding a dragonman’s true nature, and with you being human-born and all, I’ve got no idea what effects it might have—if any. Besides, I’ve only got the one dose here.”

Focusing his attention, Kevin coaxed his hands and arms to begin shifting back, grunted as his face followed suit. Given the ruin of his footwear, he decided to leave his draconic feet as they were, since the thick scales would be more than enough protection from anything he’d be walking across on campus. The air around him suddenly felt cool as his torso shrank, scales replaced once more by human skin, and the loss of sensation from his retreating tail and wings was decidedly unnerving.

Even as his body returned to normal, he realized it wasn’t quite normal. He still had some of the girth and stature of his draconic form, and when he put on his tshirt, he found it stretching across a more solid belly and thicker pecs. He didn’t even need a belt to keep his jeans on now, too, with his enhanced rump and plussized package keeping everything tight. He was thankful he’d gotten a loosefitting pair, or else his dragonfeet would never have fit through the legs—as it was, the claws tore the seams at the ends, leaving them slightly loose and flared, DIY bellbottoms. He stroked his face as he thought, and realized that there was hair there: while he’d been clean-shaven before, he now had a small beard; his arms and legs were similarly-thatched, and through the tight-pulled shirt’s fabric he could see the soft tufts of hair that ran down his belly.

Meanwhile, Matt had taken the potion, returned to his normal form, and gotten dressed in a spare set of clothes he’d kept in a lower drawer for just such an emergency.

Looking them both over, Kevin realized that the professor’s imposing stature—more than six feet tall, and with his round belly and thick limbs—was likely the result of his true draconic nature. But when Matt leaned in for another kiss, rubbing his hands over Kevin’s now skin-tight clothing, they both realized that

Kevin was taller than he’d been, and at least an inch taller than the professor’s human form. Perhaps that was due to the thickness of the dragonfeet he still had, toes flexing and stretching with every step, feeling the floor beneath him, or perhaps the height was from a lengthening of Kevin’s spine. It would be hard to tell without a detailed analysis, and both men were too intent on the stoked fires of their passion.

Even as they kissed, Kevin felt his body straining, aching to grow again, to burst these human clothes and this human stature, to once more be a dragonman. His cock throbbing and bouncing in the crotch of his jeans, jostling with his balls for room as he tasted the fruity-meaty remnants of the potion on Matt’s tongue, felt the tingle of its magic flooding through him. Just as his face was about to stretch forward into a muzzle, he pulled back, breaking the kiss and taking a few calming breaths. His body’s thrumming stilled as he regained his composure.

“You…you almost changed back, didn’t you?” Matt asked, panting and wiping a little drool from his beard with the back of his hand. “I guess we’ll need to be more…choosy when we feel inclined to be, ahem, passionate. Sorry…about this whole thing. I mean, this certainly changes your life, and who knows what else…” Plunging from budding re-arousal down to guilt-laced depression, Matt seemed to deflate, losing his hot grandfatherly nature and looking more like a sad fat old man.

“Hey, none of that, big guy! You know how I feel about you—that hasn’t changed. As for changing my life, I can only see this as being good. Who else can turn himself into a dragon…or human for that matter, just by thinking about it? And finding out that you’re secretly a dragon? That there are dragons? That’s certainly nothing to apologize for.” He pulled the professor into a big bear hug, the traces of his dragon form’s strength giving him ample power to squeeze Matt reassuringly. “And yes,” he added in a soft voice, “we’ll need to be more careful about getting riled up. That’s a price I’m willing to pay. That and the cost of the occasional ripped-up outfit.”

They both laughed at that, good moods restored. Tidying the office up as much as they could without a woodworking crew, and returning the ancient scroll to its mundane hiding place, they left and headed across campus to the football stadium and adjacent athletics building where Coach Paul Cummings had his office and the team had their locker room. They both had a lot to think about as they walked, holding hands. Kevin was surprised by how good it felt to stroll with bare dragonfeet, his talons giving him purchase when they crossed grassy areas, and the scales giving him ample protection from any stones or rubbish he stepped on; it actually felt good, leaving him to wonder if that was why dragons (mythological ones, anyways) tended to frequent stony, craggy places.

By the time they reached the athletics building, practice was already done. They could hear the coach barking at his team even from outside, his voice getting louder as they approached the locker room. They peeked through the doors, and watched the shorter man—like a squashed-down Bluto from the Popeye cartoons, Kevin thought—black beard bristling as he chewed out the team for not working hard enough at practice.

Peering through the wire grille protecting the little window of the locker room door, Kevin picked his friend Hart out of the huddle of cowed players. It was heartbreaking to see his friend looking so hangdog, trying to make his 6’2” linebacker’s physique as small as possible as he cowered from his coach. It seemed to Kevin that something should be done.

Finally Coach Cummings dismissed his team and stormed off to his office, leaving the players to shower in stunned silence. Kevin and Matt slipped through the doors and made their way to the coach’s office. Professor Drake’s firm knock got a growled “Whaddayawant?” in reply, so he simply pushed through.

The coach’s stormy expression lightened slightly when he saw it was a peer and not a student that wanted his attention. “Drake,” he said, green eyes brightening as he stood to greet his friend. “What brings you to to my lair?”

“I had a favor to ask you, but…Paul, what was all the shouting about?”

“Oh you know, these kids don’t listen to a thing I say unless I yell. I swear sometimes I feel like they ain’t listening unless I roar full blast.” He shrugged eloquently as he sat back on the edge of his desk.

As the two faculty members talked—practically ignoring Kevin—he noticed that

Coach Cummings’ nostrils started to flare as he inhaled deeply, obviously smelling something over the general locker room funk of sweat and bleach. He was also, Kevin could see, starting to get hard: his seventies-style basketball shorts were starting to grow tight, the silky fabric easily showing off the outline of a not-insubstantial bulge. As he watched the thick head and shaft pulsing, he could feel his own shaft starting to grow…and grow more than a normal erection would have accomplished. There was a fire in his belly, and when the coach stood and stretched, showing off the hairy, solid gut beneath his polo shirt, Kevin smiled deviously, trying to picture what Paul Cummings would look like with scales.

The young man waited until the coach’s eyes flicked over to him, and took the opportunity to adjust his cock in his jeans—which were starting to grow even more snug—which caused the coach to manhandle his own; soon the professor had to do the same, even as he continued talking with his friend. Neither of the two faculty members noticed when the fabric of Professor Drake’s khakis was pushed to the limit and burst, revealing the thick gold dragoncock within. The released tension caused the shaft to fling out, launching a thick drop of precum that landed on Coach Cummings’ hairy leg. Kevin watched as the fluid seemed to sparkle, soaking into the skin.

Like watching a plant growing in slow motion, he stared as the shaft within those glossy shorts lengthened, thickened, straining the fabric, and finally emerging from the left leg, dark violet-red and definitely inhuman. In fact, it had almost an equine quality to it, with the flared head and thick ring around the middle.

Another bulge further stretched the coach’s shorts, and he scratched idly at his right leg, hiking up the hem and allowing a pair of heavy, smooth-scaled balls to flop out.

Another rip sounded, drawing Kevin’s attention back to his beloved professor, the seat of whose pants had been ripped by the re-growth of his thick tail; his wings made short work of another shirt and sweater vest. As the fabric fluttered to the ground, Coach paused mid-tirade, tongue suddenly too big for his human mouth, drool starting to drip down the front of his shirt. His idle fidgeting with increasingly-unwieldy hands had turned to active masturbation as he watched his friend becoming a dragonman before him…and yet something was keeping him from actively reacting. It’s as though each second the “normal reality” he expected to see were shifted to include Matt’s current percentage of human-todragon, the increasing proportion of scales covering his body, and the fact that

Professor Drake was now quite nude, standing in the ruins of another set of clothes.

Kevin watched as Paul’s eyes began to water—or perhaps those were manly tears—as though the coach had had a bit of a secret crush on the professor, choosing a stoic silence on the matter, rather than let affection get in the way of his coaching duties. Of course, that was just a guess, but given the increasing amount of drool the coach’s growing mouth continued to pump out, and the way he was hungrily eyeing the golden dragon’s shaft, he might have been right.

Kevin, meanwhile, had been dragonizing as well—once he noticed that Coach Cummings seemed to be of an accepting frame of mind, he let his body change. It was like releasing a compressed spring: with a swiftness that made him wonder,

Kevin’s wings sprouted, his belly swelled, cock and balls engorged, and hands clawed-up to better match his still-dragony feet.

The two dragons cornered the human, caressing his thickly-muscled body, stroking the black beard and body hair, helping him tear the sleeves from his polo shirt—revealing thickly-muscled shoulders and arms—and rip off his pants. His cock was swelling too, still vaguely horse-shaped, but now there was what seemed to be a loop of skin pulling it closer to his belly…a sheath. He dropped to the floor, on all fours between the two dragonmen, his face pushing forward to meet Kevin’s cock as his nascent tail lifts up to present itself to Matt.

And as he nuzzled against them, front and back, he was mumbling. Kevin’s powerful draconic senses could make out snatches of phrases like: “…Connors, oh damn Connors, that dick…” and “…fuck me, Drake, please. I need you…” His horsey dick was slapping against his bare chest, leaving a puddle of pre on the floor beneath him, as his skin started to shift. It rippled and shuddered, shivering like a hive of fire ants swarming him: in a moment his whole body was covered in fiery red scales.

His face finished changing, now plenty big enough to engulf Kevin’s shaft, and with an extra-long tongue to slip down under his balls too. Working together, Kevin and Matt lifted Coach Cummings up onto his desk, flipped onto his back for better access. The lengthening tail drooped down as the arms and legs curled up, fists and feet balled up into cute, clumsy-big, pawlike feet; they looked like the talons Kevin and Matt currently stood on, but rounder, more stubby. Kevin ran a hand along the underside of the coach’s neck, making him purr and moan, then down the scaled chest and belly, past the now four pairs of nipples, to the sheathed shaft. A few tugs on the glossy violet member got both of them in the mood, and his own cock slipped easily between the coach’s jaws.

Matt, meanwhile, had grabbed the thickened legs, and was using them to help him hump up into his fellow faculty member’s hole, the growing tail wagging between the professor’s meaty legs. In moments, there were no traces of humanity left, just three dragonmen in the throes of a little orgy. At one point, Matt even leaned forward as he hunched into Paul’s tailhole, and pulled Kevin into a long kiss, one hand caressing Kevin’s lengthened draconic ear; the strength, flexibility, and size of their bodies made this so much easier than it would have been as humans, and their stamina allowed all three to continue performing for what felt like hours.

It was very late indeed when they finally stopped, scales gleaming with sweat and Coach Cummings dripping from both ends; he’d even blasted his own chin a few times, using those awkward wristfeet to paw himself through orgasm, and he licked his cum up with his long and flexible tongue, bending in a circle to clean his shaft before it retreated (part-way, anyways) into its new sheath. He then rolled off the desk, landing on all fours and seeming perfectly happy to stay that way. He grinned up at them like a happy dog, tongue lolling and eyes bright. “You said you had a favor to ask, Drake?” Even his voice sounded canine, like a cartoon dog talking with a half-growl, forcing words around an inhuman mouth.

Having regained his faculties somewhat, the professor looked down at the red, feral-looking dragonman before him. They’d been colleagues and friends for years, but he’d never known Paul to look so…at ease; and of course the new comfortable sexuality was a lot more fun than the veiled tension he’d noticed before. “Yeah, I damaged Kevin’s letterman…by accident…and was hoping you had a spare, perhaps one in a little bit bigger size?”

“Oh sure, follow me, Connors,” he said over his shoulder, leading the green dragonman from the office. He had to use his tongue to open the door, but otherwise seemed perfectly at ease with his new waist-high viewpoint and quadrupedal stature. His plus-sized genitals forced him into a more spreadlegged gait, but he didn’t mind, since his shaft seemed permanently half-hard, leaving a snail trail of precum as he walked through the locker room to the storage closet. “You’ve definitely bulked up since I had you in my archery? Track? Football class…what was it, two years ago?”

“Three, sir. And it was soccer, sir.”

“Please, Connors, call me Coach.” He smiled like a big happy dog, tongue lolling and shaft re-plumping. “I remember now how you’d always run barefoot—good thing too, since there’s no way we’d have found cleats to fit those monsters of yours.” The blunt-ended muzzle tipped down, eyes hungrily examining the appendages in question, long tongue flicking out occasionally. “They look as lickable as they did back then.” He burped eloquently. “Maybe next time you swing around I could have a little…taste.”

Before Kevin had a chance to respond, he was back on task, rummaging through the battered cardboard boxes for the biggest letterman jacket he had. “There, that size suits you much better,” he said after using his mouth to toss the jacket to the younger dragon, watching as Kevin used a claw to deftly rip two holes in the back, just right for him to slide his wings through. After borrowing some sweats from the lost-and-found for Professor Drake’s nude draconic body, Kevin fished his wallet and keys from the pocket of his ruined jeans and they left, watching as Coach Paul pushed the fabric scraps into a nest in the corner of his office.

“He smells different from you,” Kevin remarked as they walked out, “a bit like blue raspberry Powerade.”

“That’s…well, it’s not unexpected, I mean, each dragonman has his own unique odor. It’s a form of pheromone identification; I’m sure you’ve noticed your own minty scent. What’s odd is that his smell is so…unnatural. Could you imagine a dragonman from a thousand years or more ago, smelling like that? Still, it’s an improvement over the usual human smells—n-not that it’s bad or anything,” he blushed, glancing over at his friend and lover, “it’s just really nice to not be alone. I haven’t seen another dragonman in centuries and, well, I know he’s not a real dragonman—not hatched as one—but it still feels nice, like the old days. By the way, did you realize that you’re not wearing pants?”

Kevin glanced down and blushed under his green scales: he was indeed wearing nothing apart from the letterman jacket, and even that was unbuttoned, flapping open around his belly as they walked. Then again, it wasn’t like the professor’s borrowed sweats were doing much to hide his bulging crotch, let alone his wings and tail. Kevin could feel his arousal building—even so soon after the threesome with Coach Cummings—just looking at his professor’s hairy, scaley body stretching and straining the thin fabric; he was glad he’d left his new letterman unbuttoned, so the cold night air could blow around him, cooling off his blood.

He opened his wings and let them catch the breeze as well.

They both returned to their separate apartments, “To keep some semblance of normalcy,” Matt had said, in case the reality-altering effect Kevin seemed to be generating had a limit: neither dragonman wanted to wake up to screams and questions. Kevin was surprised to find his bed bigger, sturdier, as if it were built to handle his nearly half-ton of weight; there was even a depression in the mattress, as though he’d been sleeping on his wings for months. He was far too tired to puzzle it out—let alone the mystery of Coach’s seemingly altered memories—and fell asleep with his smooth draconic shaft pulsing in his hand.

Having slept for twelve or thirteen hours—he wasn’t sure—he woke with the realization that it should be time for the football team to be at practice again. He’d returned to his old human form in his sleep—albeit the bigger and hairier version thereof—and decided to go and check on his friend, Jimmy Hart. Maybe, he thought as he willed his hand to turn to scales and back to skin, he’d like to see my new trick.

Getting dressed, even though a part of him wanted to parade around campus completely naked, Kevin headed out. By the time he got back to the locker room (after an admittedly large meal at the dining commons—his draconic appetite, it would seem, being harder to banish than his claws or scales) the team was done with practice.

This time, however, he noticed Coach (also human once more) paying more attention to his players, complimenting good plays and offering constructive criticism; a far cry from the shouts he’d been using to berate them just the night before. Kevin did spy the older man’s tongue flicking out to lick his nose once in a while, the nostrils flaring wider with each breath, and he seemed to have lost a few inches of height. He could see Coach Cummings’ crotch tenting the silky basketball shorts he always wore, and wondered what else had remained…altered. Hiding a blush, the coach gave his team a few last words, told them to shower up for the day, and ducked into his office with a: “Good practice, boys, now don’t bother me, I’ve got some—ahem—paperwork to take care of.”

Through the closed door, Kevin’s still-dragony hearing—despite having human-shaped ears instead of the longer draconic ones—could make out the sound of ripping cloth and the soft rasp of scales-on-scales. Tempted as he was to peek in and see if Coach was indeed reverting to his new draconic form, and pawing himself off with increasingly-dragon-footy hands, his attention was caught by the drama playing out in the showers.

A short redheaded jock—Rick Harden, if Kevin remembered correctly—was jabbing his finger at the big, hairy chest of Jimmy. “Look, you big oaf,” he was saying, “just because coach thinks meatheads like you make good linebackers, doesn’t mean I don’t want you in my way. You got that through your thick skull, Jimmy? I better not see you loping around like this is some sort of fun kids’ game. Stay outta my way, lunk, and that means now.” He pushed the other player back like he was the bigger man—even though he was a full head shorter than Jimmy—and strutted into the showers.

Kevin could tell that Jimmy’d been hurt by it, especially the way that jerk Rick had used his name like it was an insult, and wished there were something he could do to help. As he watched the team beginning to shower from his place in the shadows, he began to get an idea.

Stripping off his human-sized clothes and stashing them in an empty locker, he waited until the whole team had gotten in the showers. With the spray of water and the echoes off wet tile to mask the sounds of his movements, he stepped into

Coach’s office. Sure enough, the older man was naked and on his back, rubbing at the larger, more-equine member—though the rest of his body hadn’t changed much apart from the patches of growing scales. “Hey Coach,” Kevin whispered, reaching out to caress the other man’s belly. “Your team has worked so hard, why don’t you get changed so you can give them a nice reward.” Under his fingers, skin completed change to scale as Coach Cummings blushed red, the color suffusing his skin, and darkening to violet on his genitals and underside.

Grinning like a madman (with too many—and too-pointed—teeth for a normal human), Kevin left the office door open as he snuck back to the showers; no one seemed to notice him. As he walked towards Jimmy Hart, who was showering on one end of the big, tiled space away from the others, he began to change. He let the transformation flow across his body, stretching him taller, thicker, hairier, scalier, returning him to the form that already felt so natural.

The green and yellow now-dragonman stepped up behind Hart, belly almost against the human’s back. He placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder, which caused the naked linebacker to spin around. It was obvious from the defensive look on his face that he was expecting more hazing from his teammates, but that quickly changed to surprise at the sight of the nine-and-a-half foot tall dragon standing before him. His mouth opened to shout or scream, but the intake of breath took with it Kevin Connors’ scent as well, and there was something in the minty musk that changed his mind. Perhaps it was the steamy air enhancing the effectiveness, or perhaps it was those familiar blue eyes, the same as he’d known for years, that made his defenses drop and his feelings soar. And as his mood rose, so too did his cock, like a rock jutting out of a waterfall, the shower spray bouncing off of the thick—and thickening—member.

Kevin’s draconic shaft wasn’t at all slow in reciprocating, and in a twinkling it was just as hard as his friend’s, jutting straight out, their tips almost touching. With a deviously playful rumble, he rolled his hips forward just a few inches, and rumbled in the back of his throat as he felt the human’s smaller cock slipping into his own.

Jimmy Hart moaned an echo of his draconic friend’s masculine purr as he realized he was now fucking the massive beast’s massive shaft, but he had no time to think about it: Kevin’s longer neck enabled him to bend down, without changing the slow rhythm of their thrusts, and kiss his friend. The human’s mouth tingled from the feel of the soft scales of the dragonman’s lips, the warmth and strength of his tongue, the soft beard that hadn’t been there when he’d been just a human, the viscous saliva that seemed to be concentrated Kevin-scent. He didn’t even notice as the dragon began a slow orgasm, pumping seed through their joined shafts, filling Jimmy’s balls with potent magics.

Between them, the human’s balls began to inflate, the wrinkly, blonde-haired, water-chilled sac filling up and smoothing out. The skin turned a bright, light blue as hair vanished and re-grew, leaving a thick blonde trail running along the middle of the balloon-taut pouch. Kevin’s moans changed pitch as he realized what was happening, and he opened his mouth wider, pulling his best friend into a deeper, French-ier kiss. His glands seemed to double, then triple, their production, pumping out more and more drool to pour through their joined mouths. Eyes rolled back in pleasure, Jimmy put up no resistance to the onslaught, gulping down the saliva as though it were a thick mint milkshake.

Soon their heads were pushed further apart, maintaining the kiss as Jimmy Hart’s face turned blue, his teeth sharpening and nostrils flaring. The green dragon pulled back, and was surprised to find that Jimmy’s blue-ing face was coming with him, jaw lengthening to maintain the kiss. A longer, stronger tongue was now meeting his, and the taste had shifted: cinnamon and vanilla now mingled with the pervasive mintyness of Kevin’s saliva.

He rocked his hips back, pulling his cock off the shaft it had engulfed. With each inch that was revealed, it seemed another half inch was waiting to come out, fatter, bluer, smoother. Finally, with an audible pop, Jimmy’s cock sprung free, flinging strands of dragoncum all over the showers as it finally came to rest—still just as aroused as before—wobbling above his pleasantly swollen balls. Both

Kevin and Jimmy felt themselves at the cusp of a truly draconic orgasm, but just as surely they both knew that something more was needed.

Breaking the kiss with no small amount of reluctance, Jimmy pulled away, turned his back to his friend, and placed his hands on the shower wall. Kevin could see the hands shifting, pinkies receding as nails grew into claws, and the rump that was presented to him was even plumper than its former linebacker largeness; the little stump of a tail that wagged above the deep cleft was all the invitation he needed.

Growling softly, Kevin slid his dripping shaft between those massive globes, gliding easily into the new dragon’s waiting hole. He hilted himself, causing both of them to moan like the beasts they were; each thrust seeming to pump Jimmy bigger, bluer, thicker. His feet stretched out beneath them, each one now having just three clawed toes in a shoe-burstingly-large arrangement, the skin darkening and smoothing until it was the same cyan blue as his face, while his swelling belly and thick moobs were covered with the same long and smooth sky blue scales as on his balls and under his growing tail. And across those wide swathes of scales grew a thick thatch of hair, matching Kevin’s and making the two dragonmen look a bit like they could be brothers.

And yet still none of the team had noticed the the two rutting; none, that is, but one. Rick Harden, the short jock who had been bullying Jimmy for his tenderness, had caught a glimpse of green and yellow dragon entering the shower. His mouth, opening to shout some obscenity at what was clearly—to him—some weirdo in a costume, instead pulled in lungfulls of Kevin’s musk, rendering him temporarily mute and confused. Thanks to Kevin’s magic, he now saw the green dragonman for what he was: Jimmy’s best friend, who would often watch the team practice. And now Rick knew why. Sadness filled his gaze as he watched the two getting busy, sharing a tenderness and affection he was afraid of, and afraid he’d never feel. His hand dropped to his own shaft as he spied on them from behind one of the chrome shower pillars.

Kevin stared through lidded eyes as his friend’s back seemed to ripple, short red spikes forming in a regular line down his spine and—with the next thrust—a pair of batlike wings popped out of their surrounding scales as well. In no time the only things left of Jimmy Hart, the human linebacker, were his intense huskyblue eyes and of course the tender soul lodged behind them. Then the newer dragonman closed and opened his eyes, revealing deep red irises that seemed to speak eloquently of the love their owner held for the green and yellow dragon. Neither could keep from roaring now, the sounds echoing off the tiled walls as they rutted, sounding like a T-Rex orgy.

The rest of the team finally noticed the almost-feral gay display before them, and most of them were initially quite surprised, but the combined musk and steamy air made quick work of their resistance: with every breath they found the sight more…normal, more acceptable, more right, and more arousing. The green dragonman growled as he neared his climax, gently biting the shoulder of the new blue one, nibbling tenderly and licking the scales that had only just popped into existence, the rumbling sound finding resonance in the team’s cocks.

The humans moaned as their shafts vibrated, growing thick and hard, dripping changing pre-cum onto the shower floor. To a man, their nostrils flared as they tried to inhale every molecule of minty musk, and they panted at the added taste of cinnamon and vanilla that Jimmy was providing. In moments, they began to turn to one another, leaning close to make out, to stroke one another’s shafts and bodies, whimpering in ecstasy as they felt their bodies changing…even though none of them consciously noticed that anything had changed.

The team members were so wrapped up in the dragons showing off before them that they also didn’t notice the four-legged red dragonman—still wearing his trademark ballcap and whistle—saunter out of the coach’s office and step up to the open doorway of the shower. They didn’t see him flopping onto his back, looking upside-down at them as he used his four dragony feet to caress his violet equine cock in time with the thrusts of the green dragonman.

All too soon, Kevin found himself unable to resist the climax that he’d been holding off for what felt like forever. With a roar that shook tiles off the wall, he came, flooding Jimmy’s innards and rushing his change to completion and—though he didn’t know it yet—permanence. The flood of pheromones and magic caused the other two dragonman to climax as well: Jimmy’s balls unloading the last of their human seed as well as a full load of new dragoncum, and Coach Cummings spraying his load all over the team.

Harden, aware of the changes and without any other team member’s attention to distract him, saw their changed coach’s shaft pulsing and spraying across the showers, and dove for the jet open-mouthed. Gulping down the blue-raspberry flavored cum, he moaned as his own body began to alter, quicker than any of the others, fueled by his secret desires and sadness. His form swelled up, growing wider and thicker but only a few inches taller (making him, apart from Coach Cummings, the shortest dragonman yet), packing on muscle and thick sturdy bone. His skin blushed into smooth pink scales, lighter on his belly and underside, with his long red hair bleaching into fluffy white locks. A line of white hair, like whipped cream decoration, ran down the middle of his chest and belly, giving him a slick, ottery look compared to the far more bearish Jimmy and Kevin.

A smell of cherries and sugar poured from Rick’s body as his new feathery wings burst from his back; but most dramatic of all was his expression, brightening to an ecstatic joy as his eyes took in his slowly-changing team and the newfound affection they had for one another. His clawed hand pumped at his enlarged shaft, making the white-tufted balls swing and bounce in their heavy pouch before he added his own cum to the streamers coating the other athletes.

And while their changes continued to progress (as well as their own orgasms) and unnoticed by the other dragonmen, he leapt from the showers, his wings giving him a swiftness that belied his bulkily-muscular body. In a twinkling he’d slipped into one of the equipment lockers and withdrew a bow and quiver of arrows.

At the touch of his cum-splattered hands, the bow shifted from a normal modern composite to an almost-cartoonish wooden recurve and the simple cylindrical quiver of steel-pointed shafts became an ornate pink-and-gold confection carrying countless heart-tipped arrows, the fletching on them identical to the feathers on his own wings. Leaving the rest of his team to explore the rainbow of flavors their new forms had released, he flew out of the locker room, intent on spreading the love and joy he’d found all over campus.

With no small amount of reluctance, Kevin left the locker room. Once the orgy had finished, Coach stepped up to the plate, began instructing his team on the proper care and “feeding” of their new bodies. Most of them were giggling and rolling their eyes, as though they’d gotten this lecture many times before. Hart, too, was sitting bare-assed on the tiles with the rest of the team. He’d given Kevin a kiss and a grope goodbye, saying he had to finish practice, but that he’d meet up with him later on for their date.

Blushing and still horny, Kevin restored his body to human form (apart from the feet, of course) and re-dressed himself in the clothes he’d stuffed in the locker. He had a lot to report to Matt, and wanted to get back to his office before he forgot any of the delicious details. So intent was he as he drew near to the professor’s building that he didn’t see the man approaching until they nearly collided.

“Oh, excuse me!” The chubby older man said with a blush, his hand accidentally coming to rest on Kevin’s chest. Kevin blinked and realized that the other man wasn’t entirely human. He had the beginnings of a muzzle, purple, pointed, scruffy, with violet hair that shaded to black where it tufted out around his shirt collar. “I wonder if you can help me: I’ve been asking all over campus and I haven’t had much luck.”

Licking his lips and clearing his suddenly-dry throat, Kevin exerted his will to remain in his mostly-human form, feeling his body straining to grow at the older man’s touch and obvious change. “W-what can I help you with, sir?”

“I’m trying to find Kevin Connors.”

Hearing the gravelly voice say his name nearly made Kevin moan, but he kept his cool, saying jauntily: “Well, you just did.”

“Ah! Wonderful,” he removed his hand from Kevin’s chest, instead holding it up to shake. “Name’s Axel, I just wanted to thank you for all of your help.”

“My help?”

“Oh, I’m such a scale-brain sometimes. My son—with my son, Josh. You’ve been tutoring him, helping him with his history studies, right? He said you’ve really helped change his view, and he said that Professor Drake has been impressed with the improvement of his…work.” The part-human licked his lips again, as though recalling a pleasant taste. He blushed purple and added, “Not to mention other…techniques. He’s even given me some pointers on how to give good blowjobs.”

Kevin blinked, trying to process what he’d heard. Josh, the student who’d burst in on Kevin and the professor mid-rut, the student who’d grown a Spyro-styled tail and likely had a draconic cock to match—this was his father? A father he’d been swapping blowjob tips with? That certainly explains the muzzle, he thought, though I don’t remember tutoring…or maybe I do?

Even though the details were fuzzy, he now could remember sitting with the other student, discussing history as well as Professor Drake’s stylistic preferences when it came to term papers…and there had been some dragony fun as well, he recalled. He was so busy trying to envision the specifics that he didn’t notice the dragon-faced man pulling him into a hug, pulling the hug into a kiss, the squarish purple snout puckering to meet the still-human lips.

The taste was decidedly grapey, but further thought—and further exploration of the slobbery insides of the part-dragon’s mouth—suggested a richer flavor. It reminded Kevin of a drink he’d had a while back, at a fancy speakeasy-style bar: crème de cassis, the sweet blackcurrant liqueur that at first blush had tasted like a melted grape otter pop (Or are they called dragon pops now, he thought with a smirk as he dove in for another kiss.) but revealed the tangy complexities of its flavor slowly. This man tasted the same, and Kevin was sorely tempted to dive down to sample other aspects of him.

With obvious reluctance, however, Axel broke the kiss, blushing as his body shifted, having gained a few hundred pounds of dragony fat, his shirt now stretched tight around the violet—but still human-skinned—belly. “Well, now that I’ve found you, I’d better head back to Josh’s dorm room. He said he’s got some other tricks to show me. Thank you so much for helping him!” Kevin watched as the dad-dragon’s button-down shirt finally gave way under the massive bulk that hadn’t been there a few moments ago: with a scattershot of buttons, the belly burst free, revealing a hairy chest and belly.

He leaned a little closer, and his muzzle continued the movement, growing out into his usual beakish snout. Kevin inhaled deeply with the return of his draconic senses, burying his nose in the grape-purple shag carpet that had grown from the dad’s enlarged chest and belly. In addition to the rich cassis aroma, he could now detect that same chemical tag that seemed to say: “This is a dragonman.” His cock jumped and spurted in his jeans, flashing from human to draconic in an instant, and making his talons dig into the earth with the pleasure of it.

Chuckling at the impetuosity of youth, the increasingly purple dad patted Kevin’s head and chuckled, then reluctantly pulled away to head back to the dorm and his son. But as he turned around, Kevin couldn’t stop himself. The chubby plump rump was straining the material of Axel’s black khakis, and it—along with the mental vision of the student he’d only glimpsed, but now seemed to be tutoring, making out with this chunky hairy hunk of a father—was too much to bear. He ripped his jeans open, his cock springing free (after all, dragons and nearly-dragons don’t have much use for underwear) to fling a spurt of thick precum across the other man’s back. There was a tearing sound and Kevin watched as, before his eyes, a purple tail split the seat of the khakis. It was an exact match for the one his son had sprouted earlier, though plumper and dusted with violet hair in contrast to his son’s bright orange mane.

Kevin drooled at the sight, his body straining the rest of his clothes. The heightened horniness seemed contagious, as a few other guys walking by took notice, their feet bursting from their shoes, draconic claws clenching shredded rubber and canvas as they watched the plump purple Axel waddle away with his new tail. It took a significant force of will for Kevin to resist the urge to take the man then and there, plowing his shaft between the thick lavender-scaled globes, but he managed…barely.

A roar and a loud splash caught his attention, and his body seemed to relax with the distraction, once more only just on the cusp of bursting out of his remaining clothes—his jeans were left in tatters on the path behind him. The aquatics complex backed onto the tall building where Professor Drake had his office, the window of which overlooked the biggest of the campus’s three pools. The window! Kevin thought, recalling what had happened just the day before, the errant shot of dragoncum that had flown out unheeded.

A jet of water spouted high in the air, but the complex’s fence was too tall for Kevin to see over. Dragon-footed students and dragon-assed father alike forgotten, he raced over to the barrier. He could hear gurgles and shouts, and what sounded like roars among the splashing. His wings sprouted, threading themselves through the claw-cut holes in his shirt and letterman, flapping twice to easily loft the human high enough to see over the fence.

Kevin also noticed an open office window, with a familiar bald-and-bearded head peering out. Their eyes met and the professor gestured down at the pool.

The water was choppy and flecked with foam, but he could see plainly enough that the athletes within had been altered. The professor’s window-shot orgasm had been after the swim team’s practice had already finished for the day, so it had had time to disperse throughout the water. Which meant that the first swimmer diving in for practice just minutes ago had begun the process of creating a team of aquatic dragonmen. From what Kevin could see, they weren’t scaled the way he and the professor and Hart and the football team were; instead, they gleamed slickly in the bright light reflecting from the white pool deck and walls, their skin smooth like a dolphin’s.

With another flap, Kevin mounted the fence, perching like a gargoyle on the corner post, his bare claws perfectly suited for the job. Down in the deep end of the water, several swimmers cavorted, obviously making out, groping one another’s bodies, with no indication that they ever needed to come up for air. A splash and sprinkle of mist drew his attention to the shallower end where three swimmers were breaching like whales, leaping up through the water to splash down, their thick arousals taking the brunt of the impact. I guess it feels good, Kevin thought, a hand straying to his own bare crotch, otherwise they wouldn’t keep doing it!

One particularly thick aquatic dragon—built more like a linebacker than the lean ottery swimmer stereotype, he looked like he’d be an excellent addition to the school’s water polo team—had his arms stretched out across the rough surface of the pool deck. The rhythmic waves emanating from his body beneath the surface of the water showed just what he was up to: he was fucking the one of the water outlet holes where hot water emerged from the boilers tucked away to one side of the building which helped maintain the pool’s temperature.

Just then, the main doors opened, and the swim coach emerged. “Ok fellas,” he shouted good-naturedly. “That’s enough horsing around, let’s get started…practicing…?” He had a few other swimmers in tow, including one that Kevin recognized. He watched as the coach, his friend Tim, and the other still-dry swimmers stopped and stared at the cavorting of the aquatic dragons. At first they seemed conflicted, confused—a few even had the beginnings of fear show on their faces—but the mist from the breaching aquatic dragons must have carried some of the Professor’s diluted seed, certainly more than enough for the spectators to accept the altered reality.

The coach—who looked like an aging surfer, blond locks and all—turned to Tim, placing a hand on the swimmer’s bare chest, and draping the other arm around his shoulders to pull him in for a long kiss. Tim’s arousal was obvious from the tent in his golden speedo, and the other new-comers now seemed just as worked up by what they were seeing.

Just then, the thick dragon who’d been humping the hot water vent reached his climax. With a roar, his claws dug into the concrete of the pool deck, which split as his forceful orgasm burst the pipes all the way back through the pump and into the boiler itself. Hot steamy cum rained down, soaking everyone, frothing the water, slickening the pool deck, and spurring their changes on faster.

Tim’s growing and strengthening arms wrapped around his coach, holding him up even as his body shrank, surfer hair growing out into a long mohawk down his spine, quadrupedal limbs now ending in broad flippery claws. And still Tim made out with his coach, even as his speedo burst from the strain of holding back the newly dragonized swimmer’s tackle and tail.

Surprised from the speed of the transformation, which had been even more dramatic than the football team’s, Kevin looked up at the professor’s window. He quirked an eyebrow at the bald head, as though silently asking, “Well, you wanna join in?”

The question hardly needed to be asked, though, as both men grinned with growing muzzles and shed their own clothes. Kevin jumped from his perch, strong flaps letting him hover above the water. Matt leapt from his open window just before he’d grown too big to fit through, his wings spreading to let him glide down to Kevin’s waiting arms.

Even as they embraced, two swimmer-dragons spied them and porpoised across the water, lunging up to latch on to the flying dragon’s cocks. The blunt muzzles and soft tongues easily slurped down the shafts, but the weight of their new passengers caused Kevin and Matt to tumble, losing balance and dropping the twenty feet to the frothing, cum-tainted pool.

But once below the surface the two swimmers, lithe and playful as giant otters, coiled up to them; as though born to it, they began acting like living scuba tanks.

Their kisses long and air-filled, their rubbery lips making an excellent seal around the less-aquatic dragons’ mouths. Kevin glanced through the churning water at his beloved professor and saw the blissful look on the old dragon’s face as his blunter snout made out with the swimmer. His “scuba tank” was currently wrapped around his body, their cocks grinding and visibly leaking, pearly bubbles of precum floating up. Kevin’s own breathing aid must have had a beard as a human, because finny protuberances extended from his jaw, matching the frill that ran down from the center of his forehead.

When Kevin and Matt had recovered enough composure (and dragon-flavored air) to be able to swim to the surface on their own, the two scuba dragons detached, once again entwining with one another, an eel-like knot that slowly sank to the bottom of the pool. Still holding his breath, still underwater, Kevin watched as they continued to drop: the pool now seemed as deep and mysterious as any Loch. He could just barely make out their writhing forms in the dimness, still rutting without needing to rise for air.

Striking out with a few strong kicks, Kevin rose back to the surface where he found Matt languidly floating. Holding hands and swishing their tails for slow and easy propulsion, they glided towards the shallower end where their claws found purchase on the suddenly-stony bottom of the pool.

It struck Kevin that it seemed that the more dragons were involved, the more things changed: the aquatics complex looked less like the aging flat planes and rectangles of a modernist building from forty years ago, and now seemed to be more natural, like an ancient grotto shaped and cultivated over centuries. There were even reeds growing from the pool deck now, rattling softly in the wind, and providing low-calorie snacks for peckish swimmerdragons.

Wiping the admittedly-salty water from his eyes, he turned again to watch his friend Tim with the swimming coach. The faculty member had lost all resemblance to a surfer, his splayed legs and thick plank-like body making him look more like a smoothed-over alligator, his scales gleaming bluish-white, with a gold “racing stripe” on either side of his long blond mane. As Kevin watched, the thick thatch of hair fluttered as though in a breeze, stiffened, and merged into a spine-studded fin. His cock stretched out—just as Coach Cummings’s had—but instead of shifting to look more equine, it became a long flexible taper, like a whale’s, and the precum it was now leaking seemed more like fluid surfboard wax, perfect for keeping his swimmers’ scales bright and slick.

While the coach’s scales matched the school colors, the swimmer dragon he was currently blowing was now a deep and berry-like purple. Kevin waved at his friend, and Tim started to wave back, but shuddered, moaning and struggling to keep his footing as well as his hold on the quadruped. The coach’s long tongue had slipped down to tease the swimmer’s hole without ceasing the blowjob.

With a fluting roar and a spray of water from his mouth—reminding Kevin of his own fire-breath—Tim came straight down the coach’s throat, Tim’s changes completing as sea-ice-teal racing stripes zipped down the sides of his body, his eyes flashing from blue to match them. Just like the football coach, this prompting from his swimmer was more than enough for the swim coach to reach his own orgasm.

The former surfer’s flexible cock sprayed back and forth like a firehose, dousing the pool deck, the nearby swimmers, and even Kevin and Matt. Feeling suddenly friskier, Kevin licked the pearly cum from his muzzle, then slurped it off Matt’s bald head, enjoying the piña colada flavor. He was so busy lapping up the strands of tropical fruitiness that at first he didn’t even hear his name being called.

A throaty roar finally did catch his attention, and he turned back to look at the door leading to the locker room—which, from the amount of steam boiling out, now seemed more like a hot springs or onsen; indeed, there was a small rivulet of hot water flowing out from the door into the main pool—where a newly-familiar form stood waving at him. Kevin licked his lips, almost able to taste the cinnamon-and-vanilla scent of the blue dragon.

“Jimmy, what are you doing here?” He climbed out of the shallows, at first trying to cover his naked body before he realized that the football-playing dragon was just as nude as he was. The creamy white bellyscales and row of red spikes glinted in the sun, especially when his little batwings fluttered and dispersed the steam somewhat. He flexed and posed, showing off his chubby muscles.

“Silly,” Jimmy Hart said, chuckling as a wing-aided leap sent him barreling into Kevin’s arms. “I’m here for our date. Or did you not want to meet at the campus swimming hole?”

Kevin was too enthralled to reply, staring into Jimmy’s deep crimson eyes. The kiss caught him by surprise, but his beakish mouth parted easily to welcome his friend…or perhaps more than friend. He loved Matt, and he loved Jimmy. At that thought, he blinked and pulled back. Blushing fiercely beneath the green scales of his face, he turned to where the professor was still floating, fondling himself as he watched the two younger dragons making out.

“Don’t stop on my account,” the golden dragon rumbled happily, squeezing the base of his cock for emphasis. “You two fit so well together.”

“Y-you don’t mind?”

“Not at all, though I do mind not being introduced…or have I?” He scratched the glossy scales of his bald head, struck by the same sort of half-remembered new memories that Kevin had experienced before. It was as though he knew how things had been—a lonely dragonman, hiding as a human history professor, notquite-dating (but definitely fooling around with) his former student—and also remembered them as reality now said they were. He licked his lips, the taste of cinnamon and vanilla coming to mind.

Seeing Matt’s consternation, the blue dragon spoke up. “I’m Jimmy, Jimmy Hart, sir. Kevin and I, well…” he blushed, unable to finish the sentence either from bashfulness or from the still-altering reality.

“You two are quite a cute couple,” the professor said, slowly, testing how the sentence felt in his mouth and head. Finding it pleasant, he added, “I feel almost like a father to you two.”

Kevin took up the train of thought, blinking in surprise—it was as though he were reading a script he’d only just been handed. “Well, and why not? You’d make a great dad and—” he blushed again, remembering what Axel had told him about his relationship with Josh. “I mean, I feel so close to you…’Dad’…” He leaned in, offering his muzzle to the older dragon, eyes misty.

“Well, ‘son,’ I can’t argue with that,” Matt said softly, craning his neck to meet Kevin’s lips, their draconic beards twining as they shifted, each looking a little more like the other. The kiss was long and slow, and seemed to blot out reality: the splashes and trumpeting roars of the swimmers faded away, the water and concrete and stone of the pool vanishing to insensibility, even their bodies dwindling from their awareness, until all that was left was two tongues, two mouths, two hearts.

The tongue on his rump slowly brought Kevin back to reality.

He felt it delving deeper, as though trying to kiss him inside as well as out. A quick glance backward confirmed his suspicion: a blue head with blond hair and red spikes was tucked up under his thick tail, the tongue occasionally lapping out to slurp at his balls. His underside was decidedly, deliciously moist.

Rising up from the water like some great seabeast, Matt sat on the edge of the pool, maneuvering his body so he was now under Kevin. Belly-to-belly, cock-tocock, chest-to-hairy chest, four sturdy green-scaled pillars holding the younger dragon up over his new “father.” Kevin felt his tail lifted by a strong hand, tender claws caressing the yellow scutes, sliding downwards.

His mouth found Matt’s just in time, as the first thrust from the blue dragon’s thick shaft pushed the other two into a deep kiss. “Ohhhh guck mmmfh,” Kevin moaned through the soft white beard of his professor ‘dad.’

“That’s the idea,” Jimmy purred, leaning forward to whisper in one of Kevin’s long ears. “I love you, you know,” they both shuddered happily at that statement,

Kevin wordlessly moaning his assent. With a roll of his hips, the blue dragonman pistoned his shaft deeper into Kevin, who was nearly insensate from the feeling of the subtle ridges and bumps—not to mention the size—that made a dragonman cock so much more interesting than a human’s. Fur-tufted ball sacs brushed against one another, churning and heavy.

Matt was in heaven, loving the fact that his big belly was being used as a fulcrum for his ‘sons-with-benefits’ to make love. The older dragon’s cock kept bumping against Kevin’s, pressing together with each thrust, sweet peppermint precum mixing with his own leather-and-pipe-smoke juices, slickening their bellies and puddling down around his hips.

Jimmy seemed lost to the world: his wings hung slack and his tail was motionless, barely used for counterbalance as he humped his mate. His massive draconic heart was pumping hard, filling his shaft with blood as he drew closer; his claws dug harmlessly into tail and flank, giving him better leverage.

Then, suddenly, Kevin felt something odd. A part of his mind had been keeping track of the way Matt’s shaft was swelling within him, longer, thicker, harder, hotter, aided by the occasional spurt of cinnamon-vanilla pre. The way the shy and uncertain man had come into his own as a dragon really warmed his heart (not to mention his currently-being-pounded rump), and the green dragonman felt himself swooning into the kiss he shared with Matt. The professor was being so supportive, figuratively and literally, and Kevin wondered abstractedly if the three of them would end up just sharing a big bed together. Or do dragonmen sleep in nests? he wondered…but at the thought of that word, “nest,” he also thought of the other thing creatures did in nests.

Because there was indeed something odd going on in his insides. Whether it was his own magic reacting to his thoughts, or the combined energies of father and lover, or simply a natural outgrowth of the changes thus far, he couldn’t have said. What he could say—if he weren’t still sharing breath with the bald golden dragon—was that something had changed. It was though a biological clock he hadn’t known existed had suddenly begun to tick, as though glands that hadn’t existed started producing…what?

He got his answer all too soon. Jimmy’s cock met resistance, preventing him from pushing forward the last inch or so. Acting on newfound instinct, he leaned forward, his teeth gently gripping Kevin’s shoulder in a love bite that sent hormones coursing through the green dragonman’s body. The resistance melted away, and Jimmy hilted himself in his mate, growling around the drool-soaked shoulder as his muscles tightened reflexively and he came.

The flood of hot cream warmed Kevin from the inside out, and he moaned into Matt’s mouth, his own shaft throbbing, his own orgasm almost reached…but something was holding him back. Something was incomplete.

“Oh, fuck…Kevin…I’ve never…” Jimmy grunted as another wave flooded through him, as though his body were trying to fill the other dragon to the brim. “I’ve never cum this much before,” he finished, panting. He fell backwards onto the pool deck, his shaft emerging with a lewd wet pop that drew applause from the swimmers who’d been gathered around to watch the show. A few shots of aquatic cum blasted into the air as a few of them expressed their extreme appreciation for such a deliciously lurid act of love.

Kevin finally broke the kiss with his professor, his insides feeling heavy and hot, and unsettled. “Matt, what…oh…wow…” It seemed as though the gallon-or-so of cinnamon-vanilla cum had suddenly vanished, sucked up by his innards, which now felt even heavier. Something within him moved, a smooth boulder or metal nugget perhaps. The golden dragon below him looked up with knitted brows, pushing himself up on his elbows for a closer look at his son’s face.

“Kevin, are you all right?”

“Y-yeah, it doesn’t hurt—it…oh…it feels pretty good—it’s just…weird…oh fuck.” Kevin’s head dropped, pressing into Matt’s chest, for comfort or support he didn’t know. The gold claws caressed the green scales as Kevin’s cock pulsed and dripped and his tail raised high of its own accord.

Jimmy, meanwhile, had recovered his composure and was crouched on his knees, staring at the smooth-scaled donut he’d so recently been plowing. “Kevin…there’s something…”

“Catch it!” was all Kevin could grunt as his innards squeezed and his hole stretched open, his whole body focused on pushing—so much so that he didn’t even realize he was orgasming until he felt the thick ropes of cum splattering his down-thrust chin, dripping onto Matt’s chest.

“Holy fuck, Kevin,” Jimmy said, with surprise and what might have been pride in his voice. “You’ve gotta see this.”

Matt craned his neck, looking over the bulk of his son. His eyes went wide when he saw what the blue dragon was holding, and he gently gripped Kevin’s arm, squeezing it to bring him back to reality.

Lifting his head, Kevin’s eyes met Matt’s, and he stared with almost-drunken amorousness at the older beast, cum dripping from his long muzzle. Matt leaned forward to slurp at the runnels, cleaning up his boy, then he gestured with an eloquent eyebrow.

Finally back to his senses, Kevin arched his neck, looking back over his shoulder at the blue dragon still squatting behind him. “Jimmy, is that…did that…did that come out of me?”

Grinning like a proud father, the football player held a precious weight cradled in both arms. A blue-speckled egg, dripping glossy goo, sat heavily in his grasp. It was roughly the size and shape of a rugby ball—fatter and less pointed than its American cousin—and the smooth and slightly-flexible surface made for easier laying. Kevin still couldn’t quite believe what had happened, despite the fact that he was there for every moment of it.

Matt and Kevin, in a tangle of limbs and bellies, managed to get up off the pool deck and take the short few steps to where Jimmy crouched with his armful of new life. Kevin placed a hand on its gloopy surface, feeling the pulsing heat from within.

“So it really is an egg,” Matt mused. “And yet, you’re certainly not female,” he glanced down appreciatively at his newly-adopted son’s still drooling cock. “Kevin, it’s possible that you’ve affected reality more than I’d have imagined—” he paused, interrupted by an odd, churning sensation inside him. It was as though he’d suddenly sprouted a new organ or gland, something that would make it possible for him to lay eggs too. Making a mental note to stop by the Medical Sciences building, he stepped forward, touching the egg with tender reverence.

“I guess that makes you a granddad, Professor,” Jimmy said, blushing hard. He dipped his head to lick his egg—his son-to-be—clean, so the others couldn’t see the joyful tears spangling his sparkling eyes.

“We’re quite the family,” Kevin said, draping an arm around each of his two favorite men—dragonmen—in the world. “Though, something tells me we’re about to make our little family a bit bigger…”

Matt couldn’t quite tell if his son was referring to the changes he’d noticed on campus, or the changes he’d felt within his own body, but whatever happened, he was glad. After centuries of being the only dragonman, of having to hide his existence, his true self, he was finally able to spread his wings. And thanks to his adopted son-with-benefits, he’d felt more alive than he had in a long time.

Thinking about the future, he puffed a smoke ring that floated out over the pool, watching as it was speared by water jets (and other sorts of fluids) shot out by the playful swimmerdragons. He placed a hand on his belly, not noticing that it seemed to be a bit bigger than before, a bit more…full. If this kept up, he thought, he’d need help keeping track of the different types of dragons his beloved Kevin was bringing into existence.

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