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Man Becomes Legend
A commission for 
dan_aers
Ever since he had seen the tome embroidered with wings of gold, Graysa’s heart belonged to dragons. Long ago, as a wee boy in the market of Bolgunvillea, he’d found a book of stories. Some of them recounted the dragon’s upbringing in this little town. Some of them the dragon had written himself, recounting his Hatchling-Hood in this town up to the time of his more mysterious Coming of Age. But that book was long gone. Graysa wore a trimmed beard and a longing face, now. Twenty years had passed since his peek at that book. Ah, Graysa wished he could have afforded it then. The seller passed away years ago, and when Graysa had asked his wife what of the fate of the storybook, she had apologized; it had been stolen from her attic.
Twenty years since, Graysa had written his own storybook of sorts: a bestiary of all of Malygomire’s beautiful beasts, including birds, bovines, bears, basilisks, chawaajes and more. It spoke at length of his encounters with the wildlife. Writing stories in this bestiary had sparked his pursuit in the study of magic, for the bestiary had led him to study the dreamcatcher-tailed chawaajes, anthropomorphic avians, whose spell-work moved his soul. By apprenticing as a mage, Graysa became familiar with paralysis, frost and teleportation spells. And with those tools under his belt, he felt finally confident enough to revive his childhood fantasy.
He would approach the dragon.
Oh, Graysa had stumbled upon tracks and markings, and even heard tales from travelling storytellers that hinted at the dragon’s location. Not until now, however, did Graysa enter the dragon’s domain.
Oddly enough, Malygomire mostly nurtured toxic reptilians, spore-spewing mushrooms, festering swamps, and the like, but north of the dragon’s domain and encircling the domain itself, only pure life free of poison thrived.
A poison dragon whose ideal home bore air breathable by man… The queerness of this dragon never ceased to astound Graysa.
He climbed the ancient tree rumored to hold the dragon’s home. Jutting icicles he occasionally conjured, when no handhold of wood was to be seen, helped him on his way up. So did his stunning spell, with which he warded off a nest of aggressive, four-foot long geckos.
In the treetops no dragon showed face. Graysa, though, only became emboldened. Over the writhing, life-flourishing branches he skipped, dropping carnivorous hawks who would swoop at him from the treetops with paralysis and going nowhere near the webs—or eggs—of giant arachnids. A shadowy bowl shape appeared overhead. The tales of his childhood flashed before his eyes. His ribcage trembled.
He climbed. He scrounged himself up over a humongous tree limb. He slumped completely over the branch, belly-down. The heat and musk of a large creature proliferated the air, and ahead, what appeared to be a wall of twigs was quavering, producing the throaty warble of a grand predator, the sound deep, mysterious, dangerous.
Above the wall of twigs—the side of a nest, it was—there was the serpentine length of purple-over-black craned down on Graysa, and looming closest now, at the end of that length, were the grizzly jaws of a dragon. Nostrils on complexly patterned hide of black flaring. A purple snout-horn rearing ahead of eyes of the same hue that glowed like hot anvils.
A toxic breath blasted over Graysa’s face, more foul and furious than any gale, and the sour, sulfuric smell confirmed that this dragon was the one Graysa head seen in the words and illustrations of storybooks so long ago.
Sini.
A lick of the dragon’s lips revealed a fat and slimy tongue Graysa imagined must have been larger than either of his thighs—perhaps both of them, depending how far down you traveled. Every tooth in the dragon’s beaming maw sparkled, scared and threatened in itself, weighing not ounces, but pounds. The jaws opened again, expelling another spoiled purple breath, gnashing open, splattering ropy saliva over Graysa’s face.
The human gave a yelp, fell onto his hands and butt, scrambled in reverse toward the trunk of the tree. That dragon’s jaws gushed hot breath that shivered the air ahead to a pleased rumble bassier than a snore. Through those cavernous jowls the rancid neurotoxins hazed slowly through the air.
Then, the dragon brought one foot out of the nest. With sleek, powerful thuds he strode his way out of his nest towards Graysa, a riveting rattle rolling from his throat. The human had no time to flee—he had only so much as a glance over the large branch, knowing he lay far too high to flee—from the dragon, who had mastered these highways, at that.
A forepaw flattened on Graysa’s stomach, armed with deadly talons. The weight could have crushed him, but Sini perhaps wanted his prey alive and eased the pressure. Then, the dragon’s maw was a foot or two from his face, yawning wide… And the uvula began quaking like a punching bag taking a volley in the back of it. Graysa’s heart sank.
“Burrrrrrwwwwwwowoooooooooohhhhwwwwppppp!” A barbarous belch he uttered over Graysa’s body, louder than a mallet striking next to your ear. Tendrils of toxic filth spread over him from the dragon’s maw with the gushing purple, glowing, effervescing, stenching. The smell was meaty and acidic, but as foul as a cess pool.
Smacking his jaws, the dragon sniggered, his eyes weighing heavily down on his audience.
Tears filled up Graysa’s ears, not just from the toxic gases the beast expelled. That’s not the greeting of a civilized dragon at all. Part of Graysa rebuked this reality. This wasn’t Sini, surely? The Sini of the tales, of the vivid storybook pictures? It smells… partly of man… the burp… Graysa’s jaw went slack, and eyes glassy.
Was this the dragon he set out to study? Could living out in the wild and acquiring the diet of a feral dragon have warped and degraded Sini? Thoughts trampled over Graysa’s mind as he became steadily aware of the dragon’s gut prattling on, with its garbled, greasy dialect. Gastric words oozed, rolled, boiled, popped, festered. How much of the carnage inside isn’t animals decaying into pudge? How much of it is humanoid?
“You liked that, huh?”
Graysa’s thoughts had absorbed the man, and it took him a moment to understand the poison dragon had spoken to him. When he inhaled to speak—
“HuuuuuWWWRWRRRRRRRRrrrwrrwwwwwwwoooooooaaaahhckkk…”
Gagging, rib cage deprived of space beneath the dragon’s hot, thick paw-pad. Oh, the only breath he inhaled was sick and acidic and choked with tendrils of the violet stink. The belch rattled on like rapid gunfire, from a gun which happened to be overheating with fuming gases. Such pride in the dragon’s deep, rich, bellow…
The heat…
The stench…
Graysa could taste the fetid, meaty decay on his own tongue. There was no brew the wash it down, not even water. If gods there were, for what were they punishing him?
The fat lips of the dragon smacked together so closely to Graysa, his fantasies possessed him to touch them—hot, leathery ropes—
One purple eye followed Graysa’s hand. The dragon revealed a grin of weaponry.
“You did like that.”
“No, cough no… What has happened to you?”
Strange eyes studied the man. The scaly owner of them took a deep, long inhale. A sigh. “Nothing? I don’t believe we’ve met before, have we?” Nostrils scenting human flesh. “What happened to the humans inside my gut, though, is another story…” More of those white weapons were unsheathed in a smile, with a snarl ever so soft. “The smell of human fear is sweeter than cheesecake… I don’t suppose you’d agree, though, would you…”
The dragon lifted his foot, revealing the padding of the musky sole. The forepaw hovered, shadowed over Graysa. A couple of talons slid across the human’s neck. It was prickled with goosebumps, which Graysa imagined Sini could feel.
A talon rubbed over Graysa’s cheek, to a little whimper. The powerful musk of the dragon’s foot heightened both his wonder and fear; the fragrance attacked nostrils, pumped adrenaline through his being. He was pinned under the dragon’s footpaw, helpless as a fawn…
The dragon hummed and commented, “Your whole body is thrown into distress with my simple touch.” The dragon was chuckling, and out of his lips came a tongue like a fat pink serpent, which slurped the nose of the human. The human, soaked in another layer of the translucent bile, shivered even worse, despite the heat. “Yes,” Sini went on; “I have that power over you, because you are a mere… toy… beneath my paw…
“And soon you will be… a couple hundred pounds of pudge…” Sini mused: “Some black, some purple.”
Words wouldn’t leave Graysa’s mouth.
“Your mouth is shy, but it tries.” Leaning closer, the dragon imposed upon Graysa his vile breath: “What does it try to say?”
The hungry dragon cocked his head, waiting. His patience gave Graysa a whole minute.
“Humans raised you…” The man’s words were strangled by brambles and thorns. “Your storybook says so. You were raised in Bolgunvillea with the humans and I come from there.”
The dragon’s smile did not change, nor did any wrinkle in his face. Only, his eyes twinkled a little more.
“And?”
That simple And blew out the man’s fires. His bones froze, and so did his tears. Or, at least, they no longer bothered to leave the corners of his eyes. He is Sini, then. But he is not even angry, not even happy to hear about Bolgunvillea… simply apathetic.
“Awwr. The human thought I’d—buurrraaaaaaaAAAAAAWWRRRP!”—his eyes flew open, to the gusts punching open his lips, then fell halfway again as he lazily rolled his tongue over those lips—“let him go because he grew up where I did. How cute.” The dragon, with excitement building over his body and deep in his chest, licked the human’s head back with quickening strokes. “You’re not the only human I’ll have eaten from there, but you Bolgunvilleans are always my favorites…”
The dragon took a moment to grind the taste in his mouth. Graysa felt the tension tightening in the air, knew the fate of his life hung from a thinning thread. A wild instinct took a hold of him, the desire to live. He watched his knees arch and his hands shove him over the branch.
Rolling… spinning… the world full of color… as he fell…
A heavy BOOM of winds, and a hurricane of heat. Something hot seized his body. When he opened his eyes, purple talons belonging to black scales had curled him in a grasp. Freedom, beneath him, was shrinking again, to the rhythm of leathery wings rising, the sound of smaller branches crackling and snapping with their wingspan…
The top of a nest appeared. The claws let go, dropping Graysa into the cushiony bottom of a twigged bowl.
“You’ve only made this worse on yourself,” said the almighty voice above him, mixed with amusement and sternness. Wing beats slowed. A weight crashed into the nest, shaking its confines. When Graysa looked up the dragon’s snout plucked him up by the collar of his robe. Screams. Kicks.
Gravity shifted. A slick tongue became the ground, curling over him like the talons, but more snake-like… Rows of teeth shut over him, cramping him against jowls running with drool. Rotten heat gushed from the throaty depths past the uvula into the live room.
The tongue unrolled, and daylight fluttered in and out to a voice: “I cannot be so kind to you now…” A drawn out hiss. “I hope you must know…”
As the dragon spoke Graysa took greedy gasps of the outside world’s air rushing inside the jaws. Then, SNAP, and that luxury fleeted with the light.
The human struggled while Sini played with his body using his large, dextrous tongue. Graysa’s attempts to wrestle free of the giant serpent were only fruitful when the serpent allowed. Letting him slip free, then catching him again, was part of the fun.
Screams resonated dully out of the dragon’s jaws, cut off suddenly by
“URRRAAAAAAWWHHOP!”
A light belch, but the power of it inside the jaws was tenfolded. Bouncing through the confines of the maw, soundwaves of devastation. A fluctuating chamber of harmony was flooded with purple…
“GRRRRAAHHCK! URRAAAWRRROOP!”
Guttural belches, belches mauling the little cavern, belches warlike and disciplinary.
“URRRRRRRRRRMMMPHHH… mmf… URRRRRRRRRRRRROOOAAAP… BURRRRRRRRRRRRROOOAPPP!”
The uvula flying like a punching bag from the barrage of a pro athelete’s fists. The man wheezing. The monster pink tongue shoving the man against his jowls, rubbing out of him his flavor while smothering him in flesh, saliva, and miasma.
The dragon the human had always dreamt of had become his worst nightmare.
Why did he come here?
Gravity shifted again. The tongue retired. The human’s body curled in motion, and he fell toward the abyss, into the gullet’s embrace.
His last sight of the upper world was the uvula still thrashing, dripping toxic juices.
A coat of orca black
A belly of royal purple
Eyes of literary intelligence, eyes like a human’s
This was his last sight of all those romantic associations he had made with Sini, too. This was no friendly, civilized dragon of majesty. This was a deranged jokester, a scandalous eater, a gluttonous carnivore.
Of, course, then, returned the reality—long bodies dressed in flesh shimmying over his own, bumping into him, smearing him in saliva, talking his ears off with
SHULP, SHULP, SHHHULP
The throaty party knocked him about; the warm bodies caused him to sweat; syrupy layers of slobber wrapped his robes, robes in themselves. The dragon’s content rumbled through the world, his heartbeat thundering through the esophagus.
Bands of flesh constricted around Graysa, before opening up, returning him to Freefall.
The atmosphere broadened. Humidity spiked, along with the heat, and the strength of Malodor.
SPWOOSH. A sea of sparkling purple filled his eyes, his body falling slowly torpedoing through murky, cloudy depths. As white foam rose from him, tiny microbes nipped at his skin; fires ignited in his lungs. His body burst into animation. He clawed to the surface—head exploding. Out came a gasp, but the indrawn gases only fueled the flames grilling his chest.
Bellowing. Splashing his arms. Wading toward the illumined walls of this place, which were full of locomotion from the dragon’s hum of pleasure. The drenched man clawed at the walls—eyes set on the passage from whence he came—but kept slipping. He was parched, exhausted already, abandoning escape. He was trying to rip off his heavy and damp robe, but every grasp was confused, frazzled.
He finally succeeded in disrobing, leaving only a juice-soaked loincloth around his waist.
Right—less weight, easier to climb…
He reached for the pink mattresses again.
The cavern shifted jarringly, queasingly. The sensation reminded Graysa of travelling in a caravan towed by an unruly horse. His sight went toward the roof, and his hands snatched out at nothing—foam, hot juices dunking him with a painful splash, bathing him again…
A taunting, teasing voice was speaking, but the words were garbled. The noises of the juices took priority. That, and Graysa’s thoughts were thick and syrupy now…
His lungs squeezed tighter, as the dragon outside crooned: a worldly, reverberating sound. Then
“OUURRRRWRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOAAAAAAAWWHPPP…”
Cannonballed back into the stomach juices, beneath the swampy surface of purple, which bubbled and whose bubbles pregnantly swelled and popped… Fizz filled his eyes…
Laughter
A purr
The stories were fading. He tried not to forget them, tried not to think of the reality. With his own fading impressions of Sini—legendary, deadly, but friendly to man—he was lulled to sleep.
There was the sudden cease of wriggling inside his stomach. The sudden quietus. The smooth coast of the activity in his belly. The dragon wings, which had been outstretched, now came back to him. Playtime was over. The poison dragon hummed, sprawled and eased his stomach over the nest. All that was left, now, of the storm was the eye.
“There was magic on you,” Sini murmured. He licked the saccharine of mana from his lips. “Very tasty.”
The dragon’s stomach seemed mostly calm on the surface, but would occasionally burble loudly enough to keep the nearby lizards and geckos far away from him, granting him peace. On the inside, however, it stewed away with wetly drumming orchestras on the remnants of the man.
Over the course of several hours Sini would roll in his nest, letting out monstrous belches at first, but hour after hour, those belches dwindled into casual urps, which only added soft blasts of perfume to the purple-hazed miasma surrounding his large nest.
Pudge would add to his stomach, join the pudge of the other travelling humans he had added to his gut today. Storytellers, they called themselves. Well, now the only story they would be telling would be through guttural, gastric noises. But Sini would enjoy them nevertheless. Even when they finished their tales, they added the slivers of pudge here and there, to his haunches, to his tail, to his forelegs…
Later, Sini would add a new tally mark to his storybook. The one he reclaimed from some woman in Bolgunvillea. Each tally mark represented a human he had eaten since he had left the town, and he had filled up a dozen pages with tallies, now.
If someone Graysa knew twenty years ago that he would become part of Sini’s storybook, he would have been the happiest child in Malygomire. Ah well. He was legend now.
Part of a legend, anyhow.
dan_aers
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Ever since he had seen the tome embroidered with wings of gold, Graysa’s heart belonged to dragons. Long ago, as a wee boy in the market of Bolgunvillea, he’d found a book of stories. Some of them recounted the dragon’s upbringing in this little town. Some of them the dragon had written himself, recounting his Hatchling-Hood in this town up to the time of his more mysterious Coming of Age. But that book was long gone. Graysa wore a trimmed beard and a longing face, now. Twenty years had passed since his peek at that book. Ah, Graysa wished he could have afforded it then. The seller passed away years ago, and when Graysa had asked his wife what of the fate of the storybook, she had apologized; it had been stolen from her attic.
Twenty years since, Graysa had written his own storybook of sorts: a bestiary of all of Malygomire’s beautiful beasts, including birds, bovines, bears, basilisks, chawaajes and more. It spoke at length of his encounters with the wildlife. Writing stories in this bestiary had sparked his pursuit in the study of magic, for the bestiary had led him to study the dreamcatcher-tailed chawaajes, anthropomorphic avians, whose spell-work moved his soul. By apprenticing as a mage, Graysa became familiar with paralysis, frost and teleportation spells. And with those tools under his belt, he felt finally confident enough to revive his childhood fantasy.
He would approach the dragon.
Oh, Graysa had stumbled upon tracks and markings, and even heard tales from travelling storytellers that hinted at the dragon’s location. Not until now, however, did Graysa enter the dragon’s domain.
Oddly enough, Malygomire mostly nurtured toxic reptilians, spore-spewing mushrooms, festering swamps, and the like, but north of the dragon’s domain and encircling the domain itself, only pure life free of poison thrived.
A poison dragon whose ideal home bore air breathable by man… The queerness of this dragon never ceased to astound Graysa.
He climbed the ancient tree rumored to hold the dragon’s home. Jutting icicles he occasionally conjured, when no handhold of wood was to be seen, helped him on his way up. So did his stunning spell, with which he warded off a nest of aggressive, four-foot long geckos.
In the treetops no dragon showed face. Graysa, though, only became emboldened. Over the writhing, life-flourishing branches he skipped, dropping carnivorous hawks who would swoop at him from the treetops with paralysis and going nowhere near the webs—or eggs—of giant arachnids. A shadowy bowl shape appeared overhead. The tales of his childhood flashed before his eyes. His ribcage trembled.
He climbed. He scrounged himself up over a humongous tree limb. He slumped completely over the branch, belly-down. The heat and musk of a large creature proliferated the air, and ahead, what appeared to be a wall of twigs was quavering, producing the throaty warble of a grand predator, the sound deep, mysterious, dangerous.
Above the wall of twigs—the side of a nest, it was—there was the serpentine length of purple-over-black craned down on Graysa, and looming closest now, at the end of that length, were the grizzly jaws of a dragon. Nostrils on complexly patterned hide of black flaring. A purple snout-horn rearing ahead of eyes of the same hue that glowed like hot anvils.
A toxic breath blasted over Graysa’s face, more foul and furious than any gale, and the sour, sulfuric smell confirmed that this dragon was the one Graysa head seen in the words and illustrations of storybooks so long ago.
Sini.
A lick of the dragon’s lips revealed a fat and slimy tongue Graysa imagined must have been larger than either of his thighs—perhaps both of them, depending how far down you traveled. Every tooth in the dragon’s beaming maw sparkled, scared and threatened in itself, weighing not ounces, but pounds. The jaws opened again, expelling another spoiled purple breath, gnashing open, splattering ropy saliva over Graysa’s face.
The human gave a yelp, fell onto his hands and butt, scrambled in reverse toward the trunk of the tree. That dragon’s jaws gushed hot breath that shivered the air ahead to a pleased rumble bassier than a snore. Through those cavernous jowls the rancid neurotoxins hazed slowly through the air.
Then, the dragon brought one foot out of the nest. With sleek, powerful thuds he strode his way out of his nest towards Graysa, a riveting rattle rolling from his throat. The human had no time to flee—he had only so much as a glance over the large branch, knowing he lay far too high to flee—from the dragon, who had mastered these highways, at that.
A forepaw flattened on Graysa’s stomach, armed with deadly talons. The weight could have crushed him, but Sini perhaps wanted his prey alive and eased the pressure. Then, the dragon’s maw was a foot or two from his face, yawning wide… And the uvula began quaking like a punching bag taking a volley in the back of it. Graysa’s heart sank.
“Burrrrrrwwwwwwowoooooooooohhhhwwwwppppp!” A barbarous belch he uttered over Graysa’s body, louder than a mallet striking next to your ear. Tendrils of toxic filth spread over him from the dragon’s maw with the gushing purple, glowing, effervescing, stenching. The smell was meaty and acidic, but as foul as a cess pool.
Smacking his jaws, the dragon sniggered, his eyes weighing heavily down on his audience.
Tears filled up Graysa’s ears, not just from the toxic gases the beast expelled. That’s not the greeting of a civilized dragon at all. Part of Graysa rebuked this reality. This wasn’t Sini, surely? The Sini of the tales, of the vivid storybook pictures? It smells… partly of man… the burp… Graysa’s jaw went slack, and eyes glassy.
Was this the dragon he set out to study? Could living out in the wild and acquiring the diet of a feral dragon have warped and degraded Sini? Thoughts trampled over Graysa’s mind as he became steadily aware of the dragon’s gut prattling on, with its garbled, greasy dialect. Gastric words oozed, rolled, boiled, popped, festered. How much of the carnage inside isn’t animals decaying into pudge? How much of it is humanoid?
“You liked that, huh?”
Graysa’s thoughts had absorbed the man, and it took him a moment to understand the poison dragon had spoken to him. When he inhaled to speak—
“HuuuuuWWWRWRRRRRRRRrrrwrrwwwwwwwoooooooaaaahhckkk…”
Gagging, rib cage deprived of space beneath the dragon’s hot, thick paw-pad. Oh, the only breath he inhaled was sick and acidic and choked with tendrils of the violet stink. The belch rattled on like rapid gunfire, from a gun which happened to be overheating with fuming gases. Such pride in the dragon’s deep, rich, bellow…
The heat…
The stench…
Graysa could taste the fetid, meaty decay on his own tongue. There was no brew the wash it down, not even water. If gods there were, for what were they punishing him?
The fat lips of the dragon smacked together so closely to Graysa, his fantasies possessed him to touch them—hot, leathery ropes—
One purple eye followed Graysa’s hand. The dragon revealed a grin of weaponry.
“You did like that.”
“No, cough no… What has happened to you?”
Strange eyes studied the man. The scaly owner of them took a deep, long inhale. A sigh. “Nothing? I don’t believe we’ve met before, have we?” Nostrils scenting human flesh. “What happened to the humans inside my gut, though, is another story…” More of those white weapons were unsheathed in a smile, with a snarl ever so soft. “The smell of human fear is sweeter than cheesecake… I don’t suppose you’d agree, though, would you…”
The dragon lifted his foot, revealing the padding of the musky sole. The forepaw hovered, shadowed over Graysa. A couple of talons slid across the human’s neck. It was prickled with goosebumps, which Graysa imagined Sini could feel.
A talon rubbed over Graysa’s cheek, to a little whimper. The powerful musk of the dragon’s foot heightened both his wonder and fear; the fragrance attacked nostrils, pumped adrenaline through his being. He was pinned under the dragon’s footpaw, helpless as a fawn…
The dragon hummed and commented, “Your whole body is thrown into distress with my simple touch.” The dragon was chuckling, and out of his lips came a tongue like a fat pink serpent, which slurped the nose of the human. The human, soaked in another layer of the translucent bile, shivered even worse, despite the heat. “Yes,” Sini went on; “I have that power over you, because you are a mere… toy… beneath my paw…
“And soon you will be… a couple hundred pounds of pudge…” Sini mused: “Some black, some purple.”
Words wouldn’t leave Graysa’s mouth.
“Your mouth is shy, but it tries.” Leaning closer, the dragon imposed upon Graysa his vile breath: “What does it try to say?”
The hungry dragon cocked his head, waiting. His patience gave Graysa a whole minute.
“Humans raised you…” The man’s words were strangled by brambles and thorns. “Your storybook says so. You were raised in Bolgunvillea with the humans and I come from there.”
The dragon’s smile did not change, nor did any wrinkle in his face. Only, his eyes twinkled a little more.
“And?”
That simple And blew out the man’s fires. His bones froze, and so did his tears. Or, at least, they no longer bothered to leave the corners of his eyes. He is Sini, then. But he is not even angry, not even happy to hear about Bolgunvillea… simply apathetic.
“Awwr. The human thought I’d—buurrraaaaaaaAAAAAAWWRRRP!”—his eyes flew open, to the gusts punching open his lips, then fell halfway again as he lazily rolled his tongue over those lips—“let him go because he grew up where I did. How cute.” The dragon, with excitement building over his body and deep in his chest, licked the human’s head back with quickening strokes. “You’re not the only human I’ll have eaten from there, but you Bolgunvilleans are always my favorites…”
The dragon took a moment to grind the taste in his mouth. Graysa felt the tension tightening in the air, knew the fate of his life hung from a thinning thread. A wild instinct took a hold of him, the desire to live. He watched his knees arch and his hands shove him over the branch.
Rolling… spinning… the world full of color… as he fell…
A heavy BOOM of winds, and a hurricane of heat. Something hot seized his body. When he opened his eyes, purple talons belonging to black scales had curled him in a grasp. Freedom, beneath him, was shrinking again, to the rhythm of leathery wings rising, the sound of smaller branches crackling and snapping with their wingspan…
The top of a nest appeared. The claws let go, dropping Graysa into the cushiony bottom of a twigged bowl.
“You’ve only made this worse on yourself,” said the almighty voice above him, mixed with amusement and sternness. Wing beats slowed. A weight crashed into the nest, shaking its confines. When Graysa looked up the dragon’s snout plucked him up by the collar of his robe. Screams. Kicks.
Gravity shifted. A slick tongue became the ground, curling over him like the talons, but more snake-like… Rows of teeth shut over him, cramping him against jowls running with drool. Rotten heat gushed from the throaty depths past the uvula into the live room.
The tongue unrolled, and daylight fluttered in and out to a voice: “I cannot be so kind to you now…” A drawn out hiss. “I hope you must know…”
As the dragon spoke Graysa took greedy gasps of the outside world’s air rushing inside the jaws. Then, SNAP, and that luxury fleeted with the light.
The human struggled while Sini played with his body using his large, dextrous tongue. Graysa’s attempts to wrestle free of the giant serpent were only fruitful when the serpent allowed. Letting him slip free, then catching him again, was part of the fun.
Screams resonated dully out of the dragon’s jaws, cut off suddenly by
“URRRAAAAAAWWHHOP!”
A light belch, but the power of it inside the jaws was tenfolded. Bouncing through the confines of the maw, soundwaves of devastation. A fluctuating chamber of harmony was flooded with purple…
“GRRRRAAHHCK! URRAAAWRRROOP!”
Guttural belches, belches mauling the little cavern, belches warlike and disciplinary.
“URRRRRRRRRRMMMPHHH… mmf… URRRRRRRRRRRRROOOAAAP… BURRRRRRRRRRRRROOOAPPP!”
The uvula flying like a punching bag from the barrage of a pro athelete’s fists. The man wheezing. The monster pink tongue shoving the man against his jowls, rubbing out of him his flavor while smothering him in flesh, saliva, and miasma.
The dragon the human had always dreamt of had become his worst nightmare.
Why did he come here?
Gravity shifted again. The tongue retired. The human’s body curled in motion, and he fell toward the abyss, into the gullet’s embrace.
His last sight of the upper world was the uvula still thrashing, dripping toxic juices.
A coat of orca black
A belly of royal purple
Eyes of literary intelligence, eyes like a human’s
This was his last sight of all those romantic associations he had made with Sini, too. This was no friendly, civilized dragon of majesty. This was a deranged jokester, a scandalous eater, a gluttonous carnivore.
Of, course, then, returned the reality—long bodies dressed in flesh shimmying over his own, bumping into him, smearing him in saliva, talking his ears off with
SHULP, SHULP, SHHHULP
The throaty party knocked him about; the warm bodies caused him to sweat; syrupy layers of slobber wrapped his robes, robes in themselves. The dragon’s content rumbled through the world, his heartbeat thundering through the esophagus.
Bands of flesh constricted around Graysa, before opening up, returning him to Freefall.
The atmosphere broadened. Humidity spiked, along with the heat, and the strength of Malodor.
SPWOOSH. A sea of sparkling purple filled his eyes, his body falling slowly torpedoing through murky, cloudy depths. As white foam rose from him, tiny microbes nipped at his skin; fires ignited in his lungs. His body burst into animation. He clawed to the surface—head exploding. Out came a gasp, but the indrawn gases only fueled the flames grilling his chest.
Bellowing. Splashing his arms. Wading toward the illumined walls of this place, which were full of locomotion from the dragon’s hum of pleasure. The drenched man clawed at the walls—eyes set on the passage from whence he came—but kept slipping. He was parched, exhausted already, abandoning escape. He was trying to rip off his heavy and damp robe, but every grasp was confused, frazzled.
He finally succeeded in disrobing, leaving only a juice-soaked loincloth around his waist.
Right—less weight, easier to climb…
He reached for the pink mattresses again.
The cavern shifted jarringly, queasingly. The sensation reminded Graysa of travelling in a caravan towed by an unruly horse. His sight went toward the roof, and his hands snatched out at nothing—foam, hot juices dunking him with a painful splash, bathing him again…
A taunting, teasing voice was speaking, but the words were garbled. The noises of the juices took priority. That, and Graysa’s thoughts were thick and syrupy now…
His lungs squeezed tighter, as the dragon outside crooned: a worldly, reverberating sound. Then
“OUURRRRWRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOAAAAAAAWWHPPP…”
Cannonballed back into the stomach juices, beneath the swampy surface of purple, which bubbled and whose bubbles pregnantly swelled and popped… Fizz filled his eyes…
Laughter
A purr
The stories were fading. He tried not to forget them, tried not to think of the reality. With his own fading impressions of Sini—legendary, deadly, but friendly to man—he was lulled to sleep.
SINIThere was the sudden cease of wriggling inside his stomach. The sudden quietus. The smooth coast of the activity in his belly. The dragon wings, which had been outstretched, now came back to him. Playtime was over. The poison dragon hummed, sprawled and eased his stomach over the nest. All that was left, now, of the storm was the eye.
“There was magic on you,” Sini murmured. He licked the saccharine of mana from his lips. “Very tasty.”
The dragon’s stomach seemed mostly calm on the surface, but would occasionally burble loudly enough to keep the nearby lizards and geckos far away from him, granting him peace. On the inside, however, it stewed away with wetly drumming orchestras on the remnants of the man.
Over the course of several hours Sini would roll in his nest, letting out monstrous belches at first, but hour after hour, those belches dwindled into casual urps, which only added soft blasts of perfume to the purple-hazed miasma surrounding his large nest.
Pudge would add to his stomach, join the pudge of the other travelling humans he had added to his gut today. Storytellers, they called themselves. Well, now the only story they would be telling would be through guttural, gastric noises. But Sini would enjoy them nevertheless. Even when they finished their tales, they added the slivers of pudge here and there, to his haunches, to his tail, to his forelegs…
Later, Sini would add a new tally mark to his storybook. The one he reclaimed from some woman in Bolgunvillea. Each tally mark represented a human he had eaten since he had left the town, and he had filled up a dozen pages with tallies, now.
If someone Graysa knew twenty years ago that he would become part of Sini’s storybook, he would have been the happiest child in Malygomire. Ah well. He was legend now.
Part of a legend, anyhow.
Category Story / Vore
Species Western Dragon
Size 120 x 120px
File Size 100.9 kB
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