The Dragon's Vessel, Part One
You train for a year to be a priest of the dragon. You keep the temple clean and serve the older priests, and at night you stretch yourself with increasingly large dildos, to properly give your master pleasure.
Finally, it is your time, and you climb the mountain to his nest. At first you think there has been a rockslide, but then it moves and one giant orange eye opens and looks you over. You understand that none of your stretching was close to enough to withstand this massive creature.
Welcome, new mate. The voice echoes in your mind. Come closer.
You walk up to his side. His skin is warm to the touch. When he lifts himself off the mountain pass, you can walk under his belly. His shaft pokes out of its sheath, a promise of what you have trained for.
"Is there a ritual?" you ask. "Should I--I don't know. Will you buy me a drink first?" Your eyes are fixed on his cock, growing steadily, getting longer, and thicker, and longer... It won't fit. You've made a terrible mistake somewhere along the way. The other priests must have served smaller dragons.
He bucks his hips towards you, shifts until his cock rests against your chest. It leaks down your robes, it smells like musk and smoke, and you do as you are meant to do.
You can't take it in your mouth, but you rub it between both your hands, which can fit around the head but not the girthy shaft. You stroke and lick until you are swallowing gobs of precum, until you are drenched with your slick and his. You strip off your sweaty robes and keep working.
Suddenly, he shifts and knocks you flat on your back. Your entire vision is his thick scaled belly. He lines up his cock and eases in. You sob at the stretch. He goes as deep as you think possible, then deeper. Your stomach bulges. You burn with heat. He thrusts a few times, rearranging your organs, and then he presses past your cervix.
You lose yourself to sensation after that. Pain, and pleasure, and the caress of his mind against yours, coaxing you to orgasm after orgasm. The breeding lasts for hours. It grows dark, and then light again. Still he is inside you, thrusting, resting. You are nothing but a sleeve for a cock beyond imagining.
When he cums, gallons flood your womb, between your thighs, the dust beneath your back. You are drenched in it. Your stomach distends until you look full term. Even when you stagger to your feet, his precious seed leaking from you, you stay rounded.
He gently gathers you in his claws and flies you back to your monastery.
