The Greed of a Dragonlord
Rarity stared forward in horror, her eyes wide and her face pale. “Oh, no,” she whispered.
Fifty feet before them, Spike let out a whimpering moan. The great red dragon—Gabble, Rarity thought his name was (or was it Garble?), the unrelenting brute—pushed his clawed foot a bit lower, increasing the pressure on Spike’s chest. Spike grunted, coughing in obvious pain as Garble sneered down at him.
“What a sissy little pony,” Garble said, leering at his captive. His claws flexed, digging into Spike’s scaled chest. Off to his side, a good twenty feet away, the bright blue dragoness from before—Ember, Rarity recalled—groaned quietly. She lay face-down, her form digging against the dirt where Garble had backhanded her. Garble’s toothy grin widened, and he leaned down to glare directly into Spike’s eyes. “‘Cuz that’s all you are, really. Just a pony. Aren’t I right?”
“Twilight!” Rarity called desperately, but they were too far away—Twilight couldn’t possibly do anything. And Garble… Oh, but he was hurting her Spike! Rarity turned to Twilight beside her, who was staring, her body stone-still. She pinched Twilight in the side, then shook her back and forth. “Twilight, we have to do something!”
Twilight’s mouth worked helplessly. “I—but—“
“Spike’s in danger!” Rarity’s eyes were wide, her pupils dilated. She could feel her heart palpitating at a thunderous rate. “We simply must help him. You’re a brilliant mage, Twilight—not to mention an alicorn! There must be something you can do!”
Spike gave another pathetic cry. Garble guffawed stupidly. Rarity hated him for it. “Just a tiny little pony,” he said. “It’s funny that you thought you could even take that stupid scepter. You’re such a tiny little wimp.”
“Please, Twilight,” Rarity begged. Twilight’s eyes darted back and forth rapidly, her muzzle widening in gradual, oncoming horror. “We have to do something—anything!”
Garble’s grunting laughter rang in her ears. “Little worm.”
Something in Twilight’s eyes sparked to life.
Yes, Rarity thought, seeing the aura around Twilight’s horn spring up—yes, perfect—but found her train of thought rather rudely interrupted when a bright purple aura sprang up around her body. “Oof!” she grunted, wriggling in a most unladylike fashion as Twilight levitated her into the air.
She stared, wide-eyed, down at Twilight, her hooves still wiggling ineffectively. “Twilight, dear,” she said, “what are you doing? How—“
“Hey, Spike!” Twilight hollered. “Heads up!” And she threw Rarity, lobbing her across the cave with the full force of her telekinesis.
Rarity screamed, her legs waving in every direction as her squeals bounced off the walls of the cavern. She could see the two dragons approaching as she flew rump-first toward them. Spike’s head jerked up, Garble’s dumb, brutish head turning in slow-motion as the whole world seemed to drag like molasses around them.
Something hard smacked against the side of her waggling hoof. She heard a loud grunt, felt something give as she rocketed past Garble’s head. A beat later, she felt herself hit the ground with a most unceremonious thump—with her crotch landing directly atop Spike’s snout.
There were no other words for it.. One moment, she was blazing through the air like a fashionable, jet-powered blimp...and the next, she found herself cunt-to-nose with Spike’s own muzzle, the little dragon’s snout poking deep into her exposed marehood. Rarity’s cheeks burned, her eyes opening so wide that it was a wonder they didn’t just pop right out of their sockets.
Strangely enough, Garble didn’t seem to be on top of Spike anymore. Odd, that. With his windpipe now freed, on pure reflex, Spike took a deep, shuddering breath, and caught a heaping lungful of Rarity’s feminine, musky scent. He stiffened immediately, his joints locking up against her as his eyes rolled back into his head.
And then he sniffed her again, and it wasn't the delicate inhalation of a gentledrake..
Rarity’s cheeks blushed a bright, almost painful red. She couldn’t keep herself from squirming, her body grinding reflexively against Spike’s muzzle. “Oh my goodness,” she said, talking so quickly that she was very nearly babbling. ‘I’m so very sorry, Spike—I don’t know what came over Twilight. She simply doesn’t—“
She shut up very quickly when she felt something long, hard, and quite wet poking up against her backside. Rarity let out a quiet “eep!” when she felt another one against her other buttcheek, realizing very quickly that there were two somethings—and that, given the way Spike was positioned, it was very difficult not to guess what those two somethings were.
Spike took a third deep breath, as if attempting to bring her scent entirely into himself. “Rarity…” he mumbled, sounding woozy. The vibrations felt oddly delightful against Rarity’s exposed labia, and she quickly pulled herself off. She winced when she saw a small trail of feminine juices tracing across his lips.
“Spike?” Rarity said, somewhat cautiously. “Are...you okay?” She tried to ignore—she really did—the way his long, prehensile tongue darted out to lap up the juices around his snout. The impropriety of it all was just overwhelming!
“Rarity...need…” Spike grunted, his eyes squeezing shut. He balled his little fists, clenching his jaw as he mumbled aloud. “I...want Rarity. Spike...want…”
Rarity was already on her hooves. She flushed even deeper when she noticed the two, small dragonhoods standing at full attention between his legs. For Celestia’s sake, he was a baby dragon! And yet...something about him just made something stir in her that she’d never quite dared contemplate. She’d never been with a dragon before…
She very nearly slapped herself. “I’m so sorry, Spike. I couldn’t possibly intend to—“
Beside her, Garble groaned. There was a particularly round hoof-shaped mark on his temple. Rarity snapped to glare at him, snarling, “Oh, hush, you oafish buffoon! Can’t you see I’m trying to comfort Spike?”
Spike squirmed on the cave floor. His chest was heaving, his irises dilated. His slitted pupils thinned, elongating, a furnace of buried draconic instincts stirring behind them. “Spike...want Rarity… Want…”
Garble was already getting to his feet, though. He grunted, gritted his teeth, then glared at Rarity. She stepped back, her breath catching in her chest. She’d quite forgotten that he simply towered over her—and while dumb, the muscles in those arms were almost certainly not for show. “You,” he growled, taking a step forward, “are going to hurt, you prissy little pony.”
There was an ominous rumbling.
“Spike...WANT!”
The cavern seemed to explode, thousands of gallons of air suddenly crashing into the walls as they were abruptly displaced. A field of flexing, quivering purple filled Rarity’s vision; with a grunt, she felt herself being pushed back by the force of it, landing on her back with her belly and crotch completely exposed.
Somewhat woozily, Rarity squirmed around to look up at the new object filling the cavern—and up, and up, and up. Somewhere along the line, she got a crick in her neck, massaged it briefly, and continued to look upward. Her vision finally settled on a trio of large, elongated, dragonish snouts, which finally coalesced into a single, very large dragonish snout.
“Oh; Oh my,” she said, very quietly. And then a large, dragonish hand—easily bigger than she was—swept her up into the air a strangely familiar possessiveness. She squealed, wriggling and kicking as torrents of air rushed past her, whipping past her cheeks and thoroughly ruining her hairdo.
Her assailant finally jerked her to a halting stop some forty-odd feet above the ground. Rarity took deep breaths, her chest inflating and deflating rapidly as she struggled not to hyperventilate. Decorum, Rarity, she told herself; a lady is always in control. Don’t look down, she told herself, don’t look do—
She looked down. She screamed briefly, got bored, and then decided to look back up. Then she screamed again.
An enormous dragon regarded her steadily, its pupils dilated, its tongue flickering occasionally out of its mouth. It was big, it was purple, and there was a ridge of green scales patterning its crest and back.
Rarity inhaled sharply. “S-spike?” And just like that, Twilight’s plan fell into place.
The massive drake smirked. “Spike,” he said, nodding, his tongue tasting the air in a sinuous flicker. His gaze fell over her crotch, and he leered crudely at her exposed genitals. “Want.”
Rarity instinctively jerked to cover herself up, and found she couldn’t. Spike’s finger kept both her legs firmly in place above her torso. His grip was surprisingly gentle, though. His last word rang in her ears, and for a brief moment, she glanced downward again.
“Oh,” she said. “Oh, my.” A massive, pink fleshy head stared back up at her, easily half again as wide as her entire body. From here, there was no way to tell just how long it was, but Rarity estimated it to come up to just below Spike’s—magnificent; were those pectoral muscles even real?—chest. A shiver went up her spine when she noticed that it was joined by a second one, completely identical. She could scarcely tell if it were a shiver of fear, though, or of arousal—and then quickly decided on the latter when she felt an accompanying pang of need in her marehood.
Some part of her was thinking of the best sort of, well, emphasis for Spike’s new body. It was, however, rapidly silenced by certain concerns of fitting.
Rarity’s cheeks flushed as she glanced back up at Spike. There was a clear vision of lust flickering in those deep, slitted eyes, and she saw one of those massive members flare in the bottom of her vision. A thick glob of precum as thick as one of her hooves, beaded on the tip before dripping down the side, streaking across Spike’s incredible girth.
She swallowed, still halfway between arousal and fear. Still...she couldn’t deny that even one of those gargantuan phalluses was incredibly enticing—and that was before the deep, spicy scent of dragon arousal began to flood her lungs. She coughed, moaning softly as her lower body clenched involuntarily.
“Well,” she said, a bit breathless, “it would be a rather...difficult fit—not to mention unconventional. But…” She blushed a bit deeper. “So long as you, ah, remained a gentledrake about it, I don’t see why you can’t—“
“Agh! Giant freak!”
“—excuse me.” Rarity paused, then glanced downward toward the distant ground. Spike looked down too, his giant nostrils flaring as his eyes focused on the tiny form beneath them. A reddish, sharp-angled creature appeared to have run into one of Spike’s legs, and was currently doing its best to wrestle with his ankle.
Spike caught Rarity’s eye for a moment—even driven feral with lust, there was still a note of awkward apology in his gaze, a kind of “Sorry, is this guy bothering you?" Rarity put on her best pout, fluttering her eyelashes toward the nuisance on the ground. Spike smirked, then grunted.
Taking care to keep Rarity secure, he reached down toward the much smaller dragon hammering pathetically at his thigh. With a squeak much like a squeeze toy, Garble found himself entrapped in a massive, clawed hand. He screamed girlishly as Spike lifted him into the air, his wings squirming against the sides of Spike’s palm with each foot of altitude.
When Garble’s personal “elevator” reached the top floor, though, he took a deep breath, and then glared at Rarity. “You did this!” he snarled. “What kind of stupid pony magic is this?”
“It’s not pony magic.” Twilight’s voice sounded odd from so far away. Still, there was no missing the overwhelming smugness - and was that arousal? - in her tone. “In fact, it’s one of the most dragonish things there is.”
A low growl rumbled through the air. Garble jerked back in Spike’s direction, his mouth open as if ready to deliver a retort—and then froze, as if noticing for the first time that his assailant’s head was several times larger than his entire body.
“Um. Hey, so, look, Sparkle Warkle,” he said.
“Spike,” Spike growled.
“Spike.” Garble swallowed visibly. “Right.” Rarity smirked as Spike regarded him, giving him all of the attention he might bestow a particularly annoying insect. If red scales could be said to turn pink, Garble was certainly doing his best to show so. “Could you, ah, put me down? Please?”
Spike raised an eyebrow. Rarity, seeing an opportunity, began to nuzzle against Spike’s thumb. Specifically, she made sure that as her muzzle pressed against the broad face of his finger, her exposed pussy was rubbing against the inside of his palm, her leaking juices streaking across his scales. A lady should know how to make a polite request, after all.
A low, pleased rumbling began in Spike’s chest. A sweating Garble laughed awkwardly. “You know, just let me down onto the ground? We’ll just, uh, call it a misunderstanding, or whatever. I just want you to put me down—”
“Garble want?”
The inflection in Spike’s voice didn’t tip Garble off that anything was amiss; perhaps he was just desperate enough for a coherent answer that he didn’t care. “Yes!” he said, bobbing his head rapidly. “Garble want down, you big moron!”
One corner of Spike’s mouth curved. His smile flicked over to Rarity for a moment, but then settled on Garble. “Garble want,” he said simply. “Spike want.”
“Oh, thank you,” Garble babbled, his voice shaking as he began to descend. “Just, like, let me down or whatever and I’ll leave you alone. And your stupid princess and ponies or whatever. I’ll—oh flames below what are you DOING—”
The only thing that Rarity heard after that was a rather high-pitched squeal, an audible throb, and a low, cracking moan. Peering down curiously, she spotted Garble speared rather nicely atop Spike’s leftward shaft. Quite the juxtaposition, she thought. Garble wasn’t nearly as attractive as the penis beneath him. There had been enough pre—dozens of gallons of it by that point, really—that lubrication hadn’t been a problem. Then again, given that Garble was a good foot and a half shorter than the cock that was currently stuffing him, that probably hadn’t been the first thing that he’d worried about, anyway.
Spike’s cock did more than fill Garble—it bulged him, swelling out his belly and forcing his hips wide enough to take the entirety of the invading girth. Garble let out a, well, garbled gurgle as another foot of Spike’s length pushed into him; before long, the full mushroom shape of Spike’s gargantuan crown was stuffed inside Garble’s rear, deforming the skin around his belly so well that she could see the clean outline of Spike’s member beneath Garble’s dull, crimson scales. And that was just the head…
Spike grunted happily, then began to pull downward. His tongue flickered out past his snout, tasting on the scent of his rival’s submission. Rarity could smell the lust from here, her lungs stuffed with a mixture of Spike’s stifling musk and a tinge of Garble’s own meeker, almost shameful arousal. Garble squeaked again, his whimpering grunts growing louder as Spike’s massive hand pushed more and more of his cock inside, distending Garble’s belly to the point where he would have looked nearly pregnant had Spike’s member not been outlined so well. As it was, the sheer volume of precum gushing into Garble was rapidly softening those angles; each six inches Spike pushed into him were quickly matched by a good gallon of liquid arousal, the total mass expanding his belly nearly fast enough to hide Spike’s cock.
Soon enough, though, Spike’s patience reached an end. With a growl and a short, hard motion, he jerked Garble down as he might a toy—and found all eight feet of his member bulging out Garble’s stomach a beat later. Garble twitched, moaning incoherently as he squirmed around the pillar of meat that had quite obviously rearranged most of his internal organs. The defeated brute was, Rarity noticed with a twinge of satisfaction, also completely hard.
But then again, in a matter of speaking, so was she. “Tut, tut!” Rarity called out, catching Spike just before he began to pull Garble’s distended form back up his length. He turned to face her, wincing a bit at the firmness in her voice. “You would show that ruffian a good time, but without so much as offering a claw to the lady? Whatever happened to chivalry, darling?”
Spike cringed at her words. When he recovered, though, he nodded, then began to lower her as well. His tongue lashed against her exposed marehood for a moment, leaving her squirming with delight. She gave a whimpering moan, squirming in his grip as his tongue left her. Rarity eyed the approaching giant organ with mixed trepidation of excitement. She could already feel her clit winking, liquid arousal dripping down the insides of her legs as those twin pillars of sex drew ever closer.
She held her breath when they drew mere inches apart; as Spike’s tip began prodding against her clit, she heard Twilight audibly gasp. But Rarity did away with all fear, and nodded confidently up at her “captor.” She gave him her best confident, runway grin; a moment later, she released her breath, exhaling slowly as a huge—no, impossibly large—object began pushing past her defenses and into her wet, velvety cunt.
Scratch that. Her cunt was rapidly becoming all of her insides. Rarity’s breath grew labored, stars of pleasure and pain flashing across her vision. One foot became two, then became three. A succession of miniature climaxes hit her, her arousal ebbing and flowing as naturally as the tide itself. She rubbed the rigidly defined bulge in her belly, nay, the loving conquest of her entire torso, savoring every exquisite inch of radius that Spike’s colossal malehood gave her rounding middle. The aftermath of her mounting, total sense of orgasm hit her, and she sighed happily. A gentledrake always made sure his lady got off repeatedly, after all.
And there was just so much of him! So much more than any stallion could have ever given her. She groaned, letting her sense of self fade as Spike took her entire body and more, feeling her form distort and distend around his massive maleness. Why, the amount of precum rushing past her pussy lips, combined with the sheer tightness of it—she was cumming from that alone!
Three seconds later, she realized she hadn’t been truly climaxing at ll - or ever before. Not like this. Never like this. Rarity squealed, her whole body wildly spasming in climax as Spike finished pushing into her; staking his claim on her very being. Before her, her cock-stuffed belly rode up like a monument of draconic maleness; she could see every vein, every contour, every throb of Spike’s member outlined perfectly beneath her fur. “Gah,” she moaned weakly, twitching as a haze of pleasure set into her. “Guh.” Yes.
It was gentle, at first, when Spike began to thrust, his claws squeezing tightly around her as he pumped her up and down his length. As his cock grew stiffer inside of her, though, the output of precum doubling, Spike’s pace redoubled as well. Rarity heart beat like a thundering drum as he began to jerk her up and down his shaft in earnest, using her entire body like a too-tight cocksleeve. Yet, somehow, every time he bottomed out inside of her, she still felt like she could take more - like she needed more with every fiber of her being.
Beside her, she could just barely make out Garble, his longer body squirming as guttural moans and gurgles slipped past his snout. Spike snorted, smoke curling beneath his nostrils far above them as he began to piston his hips forward with each pump. Garble’s grunts and groans were like music to Rarity’s ears—and, apparently, even moreso to Spike’s, whose cock began to buck and lurch within Garble’s too-small body.
It was ridiculous, really. Rarity’s breath grew short, her vision nearly whitening with each thrust of Spike’s mountainous length inside of her. He wasn’t merely rearranging her organs—he was remaking her. He was a craftsdrake, some idle part of her fancied, to match her letting out the fittings on a vintage dress. He was using her as nothing more than a simple tool of pleasure—and when that wasn’t enough, widening her, stretching her, until she was big enough to please him. Her hooves wriggled pathetically-- delicately, her inner governess insisted!-- against the sides of his mighty shaft, drool running down her chin as each flare of his cock inside of her brought her ever-closer to her next climax.
Below them, from his titanic ballsack, there began an ominous rumbling. Spike’s grunts and moans were growing shorter, tighter, their volume mounting as each thrust of his hips grew more desperate. The next time Rarity was driven down his length, she let herself really feel the curve of his balls pressing into her rump—feel the churning, the swelling of untold volumes of seed in those smooth, hot orbs. And then she was being lifted back up again, her world spinning, her brain dizzy and blank and screaming save for whichever lash of pleasure was next to strike—
With a mighty roar worthy of the dragonlord himself, Spike bottomed out in each of them one final time. His cocks swelled up inside of them—in a second, Garble’s distended stomach was bloated out at least twice its width, his entire body bending around Spike’s lurching malehood. Rarity let out a squeal of anticipation and delight, her feminine lips contracting yet again in preparation for the final rush. Spike’s members bulged, throbbed, his veins alone stretching their bellies out impossibly wide as his orgasm built and churned and grew in the volumes of his testes below—
Whiteness, all-powerful whiteness, rushed into Rarity. She couldn’t even see it, what with Spike’s cock stuffed so far up her cunt that it might as well have been coming out the other end, but she felt it, a pure, cascading heat of pure, liquid lust that exploded inside of her like a volcano—which, she felt, was rather appropriate given that its source was a dragon.
Beside her, Garble actually began to gurgle as thick jets of creamy-white spooge erupted in spurting volleys of force from his mouth. He choked, coughing, as each spasm of Spike’s shaft inside of him forced another gallon-sized wad of jizz out his mouth. It was almost hypnotic to watch: a geyser of thick, musky cum so pure and so virile that it could have been an exhibit at an art museum. Even so, the escape valve of his warm, overstuffed insides was hardly wide enough to allow for a full pressure release. The eruption of cum inside of him was easy enough to see, and Rarity was only barely able to watch in awe as Garble’s belly rounded out in the simple blink of an eye, growing spherical and bloated and sloshing in a single contraction of Spike’s member. And then it was her turn.
She groaned, whimpering, hugging the massive pillar of sex rising up from her middle. She felt her pussy lips convulsing, clenching, cumming again and again as Spike came into her. She could feel his orgasm destroying any sense of separation between them for good, each gallon of seed that came flooding into her driving her mind even further into the dirty, sexual nirvana that her impalement had begun. A lady did not scream, “Yes! Fuck, fuck, yes!”—but then again, a lady did not often find herself impaled upon an eight-foot, orgasming dragoncock. Perhaps it was time to write new rules.
It was a full three minutes before Spike finally finished. His balls, which had begun hanging down nearly to his knees, had shrunk to only half that radius when his cocks convulsed for the last time. Rarity groaned, almost surprised that no cum had or would cum from her mouth as it had Garble’s. She felt so full, so hot—why, she could actually see the steam rising up from her coat where Spike’s red-hot spunk was filling it. The sight of it nearly made her go wild with lust all over again.
Casually, as though he were simply rolling off a used condom, Spike pulled Garble off his tip and placed him onto the ground. Garble lay there, moaning atop a ten-foot-wide cum-gut as just half of Spike’s load sloshed and gurgled within him. A cascade of jizz poured forth from his gaping, abused asshole, but even that would take quite a while to empty him completely.
He was quite a bit more careful with Rarity, though. Still, she couldn’t quite stifle the mental image of him tying her up somehow like a condom, just to keep any of his cum from leaking out. Rarity giggled as she descended toward the ground, and grunted when her cum-padded belly, at least four times her own mass, squished gently against the ground. She caught Spike staring intently down at her, and smiled back up at him.
He smiled back. Somewhere behind those feral, slitted eyes, grinned the little Spike that she’d already grown to love. With a flicker of his great tongue—oh, the things he could do with it; she hadn’t even thought of that—he nodded, then turned away, his great claws causing the cave to shake beneath his weight.
“Wherever are you going?” she asked, over Garble’s weakening moans.
He turned back and smirked at her. “Scepter,” he said, inclining his head toward the great pile of rocks, and the ruby-red glow that lay within. “Spike want.”
As he stomped away, Rarity took notice of a small, turquoise-blue form staggering up beside her. Ember gave a sharp breath, stumbled, then sagged against Rarity’s enormous cum-belly to steady herself.
“Whoa,” Ember breathed. “He’s...enormous.”
“He’s magnificent,” Rarity agreed. She glanced down at the dragoness. There was something glimmering in Ember’s face: longing, fear, awe...lust?
Ember licked her lips as she watched Spike cover the distance in a scant two strides, his massive endowments swinging haphazardly between his legs as he walked. Why, his head was very nearly scraping the cavern’s ceiling! “Do you—do you think—“
“Stay away from him, you hussy,” Rarity said happily. She patted her belly, and smiled when she felt the gallons of sperm sloshing inside. “He’s mine.”
