Hidden far from the networks of flying machines and magical transportation, pockets of life are untouched by the world around them. And in these lonesome islands of civilization, the ancient rites of seemingly dead religions still resonate through the generations.
In such a village, nestled under the shadow of a great and impressive mountain, is the small village of Xanan. For generations, Xanan has existed as a place of prosperity, where the fruit grew plump and ripe, and the livestock produced milk and cheese. The people there were happy, and they had little to worry about.
But, all times of prosperity have to end, and for one reason or another, the time of plenty leads into the time of want.
“Winter is long this time,” says the village elder, stroking his beard.
“We hardly have the stores to sustain ourselves,” says the chieftain. “What can we do?”
“There is one thing we could try,” the elder muses. “But I had not heard of it since I was a boy.”
“Anything we can use to save my people and protect my legacy,” says the chief, bowing his head low.
“Then, listen to me carefully.”
—
“Tirna, my dearest daughter,” the chieftain says. “It is fortunate that you have entered the years of adulthood. Eighteen years ago, your mother gave you to me, and now I must ask you to do something great for our people.”
Tirna bows her head low. “Am I to be married to a neighboring tribe?” she asks.
“No, not yet,” says her father, a frown upon his face. “You must go on a pilgrimage and beseech the ancient spirits of our people. You will find the old shrine atop the mountain, and there, you will give this offering.” He says this, bringing to her a bundle, heavily burdening her.
“But father,” she says, “this must be the last food for the family.”
“No, enough for me. I will fast, and because of that, I cannot make the journey.”
“Father, you’re wasting away as is. Please, take my food, please…”
He holds his hand up. “No. You shall need it for the journey. Now, rest and prepare yourself for the journey through prayer and meditation.
—
Tirna stands at the foot of the mountain, staring up the mountain path traversed only by wild animals. Behind her, the people of her village watch with expectant eyes, sunken with the hunger that the famine had brought. She gulps, turning her eyes away, much brighter than her kin as she had fed as requested.
“Oh, don’t you worry about how we had to refit your traveler’s outfit, dear,” says one of the sewing matrons. “The mountain can get cold, and you can use the extra energy to make your way up the mountain.”
“The fat will burn away and reveal your strength underneath,” says another. “Like all good deliverers of the ancient sacrifice.”
She nods and adjusts the strap of her climbing pack, for within it is the sacrifice brought to her by her father in offering to the ancient spirits that protect her lands. Without looking further back to her people, she hikes up the trail with grim determination. She knows that she must make her way up to the top; along the way, she knows not what to expect.
As her figure disappears around the rocks and the naked trees, her father turns away, making his way to his hut, the elder's words reverberating through her mind.
“Yes, we were able to return to a time of plenty, oh great leader,” he had said, “I was a young boy, and my sister was chosen for the great task. She was a hero to us all, yet she had never returned to us again.”
—
The mountain path steepens the higher that Tirna gets. Eventually, she must crawl up along the mountain, her dedication strong, even as her body screams, fighting the weight of the sacrifice and the biting cold against her body. But she must not waver. She must make her way to the top and deliver the offering, lest the people of her village die.
This is a more significant duty than she would have ever expected of herself. All her life, she had prepared herself for marriage and for motherhood. She was no priestess who knew the ways of the ancient religions. She was no warrior who fought the beasts surrounding her home and offered their meat for her people’s sustenance.
Life had offered her one path, yanked it away from her, and offered another. All she cares for, climbing up this mountain, is that she does this duty and then returns, finding happiness as she had desired… in marriage and motherhood.
The last few feet of the path is a vertical cliff. Behind her is the nearly steep drop down the mountain. Getting down would be a terrible ordeal, but that is not what she cares about now. Instead, she hops up, grabs the ledge, and pulls herself over the edge.
She collapses on the summit. The platform she lays must have been made by her ancestors oh-so-long ago. The features of this place were worn away by time and by snow, which currently sprinkles itself upon her face. She picks herself up, trudging towards the center, where a large stone sits tall and regal before a slab laying before it.
When she reaches it, she falls to her knees, pulls the package complimentary, and dumps out the contents.
Skins and furs flop out, unraveling and revealing the rocks within.
“W… what? The food? Where’s the sacrifice!?” She scrambles through the material. “No… did someone take it? I have to… I have to go back?”
But as her heart fell and she turned to look over the edge of the mountain, a great shadow rose from the edge, wings spread, and eyes burned of flame.
“No,” says a booming voice. “You are the sacrifice!”


Tirna must have blacked out, or perhaps it was all just a dream. An enormous winged creature with eyes of fire atop a mountain in her lonely village? That’s impossible, and yet, the deep rumbling of the voice that penetrated through her significantly warmed her up in her chest, much like when she fantasized about what strapping man she would wed and bed.
The warmth continues, even as she stirs in her restfulness, not wanting to awaken from the soft bed, softer than her own bed.
When she doesn’t feel the usual contours of furs that make up her sleeping space, Tirna leaps up in gasping surprise. Suddenly, the brightness of the day hits her, making her wince and cover her face so the bright and burning sun no longer causes her discomfort.
Birds chirped, and elk called out through the bright and verdant plain. She is no longer in the mountains. She is no longer in the winter but in the summertime instead. She stands to her feet and, for the first time, realizes that the boots are gone, and instead, she stands with her soles bare, her toes curling into the earth.
She wraps her arms around herself, only to then gasp and cover herself, for she is naked.
She stumbles back, falling into a pile of leaves and vines tangled by the overgrowth. She squirms and fights to escape, but the more she does, the more they catch her, the more the fruits of the vine squish and burst under her, staining her back and dripping down her chest.
“You’re causing quite a stir down there, aren’t you?” says a booming voice filling her with that strange sensation from the mountaintop.
Tirna tilts her head back, and before her is a visage larger than she. It is so nearly like a reptile with massive scales and long horns jutting out from the back of its head. Its eyes burn with a glow of an otherworldy fire. Its quadrupedal body sits underneath a long neck, massive wings draped over its shoulders.
Tirna screams, trying to extricate herself from her predicament.
The giant monster reaches forward with a scaled hand, sharp claws at the tip of its fingers wrapping around her but not touching or scratching her. The massive hand has her whole naked body in its grasp before the monster pulls her free, ripping her from the vines and then gently laying her on the bed she awoke on earlier.
Tirna still covers herself, but this time has a few more vines to keep herself from being overly exposed.
“A… are you… th-the ancient spirit protecting my village?” Tirna asks, her knees knocking together and her eyes wide as she watches the being.
The creature smirks through its snout and nods. “Why yes, I am the goddess of fertility. I can grant your land prosperity once again.”
“S… so you are real…” she says. “But if you are real, why haven’t you been blessing us? Why did I have to make a trip up to a mountain? Why am I naked before you! What’s going to happen to me?”
“So many silly questions from such a silly child,” the goddess speaks. As she does, she rears up to her hind legs, her form shifting and shrinking. It retains its monstrous appearance, in a way, but becomes more approachable. Curves and mounds appear, the scales soften, the forepaws and hindlegs making themselves much more humanoid in appearance, until suddenly this creature, this dragon, stands before Tirna, a full head taller than her, but with an almost matronly look upon her eyes.
A matronly but sad look.
“My child,” the goddess says, opening her arms up, showing before Tirna round and large and bountiful breasts. “I am sorry that my power is not what it once was. Some do not even remember my name, lest I have provided the bountiful harvests and blessed wombs for generations.”
“Then… where did our crops come from?”
“They came from your own ingenuity and perseverance. You have done a good job in my absence, but it can only last you for so long.”
“T… then what can we do? Can you help us? Did you accept the sacrifice? But… but you couldn’t have. There was no food. I am sorry.”
The dragon frowns, shaking her head. “Whatever are you talking about? The sacrifice is perfect.” She says this wrapping her arms around Tirna. “You are perfect.”
“I… w-wait!” Tirna squirms under the dragon’s grasp. “What do you mean? It was nothing but rocks and furs!”
“Oh, my dear,” the dragon coos, tilting her chin up and looking down at her. “YOu are the sacrifice, and you are a most beautiful one. With you, we shall be able to save your people.”
“M… mee?” She whines. “Bu-but I will be wed to a powerful young man in a neighboring village! I am to become a mother. I can’t be a sacrifice! I have too much to live for.”
The dragon sighs and leans in, pressing her snout to Tirna’s forehead. “The pact has already been sealed. You are no longer a human of your village. You are to be one of mine to have forever. With your help, we shall ensure your people are safe forever.”
Tirna shudders under the goddess’s caress, tears welling in her eyes. “I… I don’t understand what’s going on. Why would you take me from my home? What could I ever do for you. Who even are you, mysterious spirit?
The dragon steps away, her wings spreading, her arms wide open. “Why, I am the mother goddess of this world. I am the harbinger of the harvest and the bringer of births. I am Xasandra, dear Tirna. And from this moment on, you are mine!”


    Tirna stands before the magnificent monster before her, a dragon with a humanlike shape, her arms wide and her smile wider. Despite how vulnerable the villager is, the warmth of the place and the goddess before her leave her feeling oddly, supernaturally contented.
“X… Xasandra?” Tirna repeats that deity’s name. “I have never heard of Xasandra.”
The goddess frowns, sitting on the ground, pulling her knees closed, her wings draping over her shoulders. “It is unfortunate that many in the realm of mortals have forgotten my name. And I have tried, oh so very hard, to make my presence known in the world once again.”
She lifts a vine with her palm, gripping the large ripe fruit growing upon it. She sighs and nuzzles the thing against her cheek, glancing back at the human before her. “But, there are those out who hate me and would keep me from visiting your world. It is a shame, as I wish to be back there so much. It is my home, too, and I have so many children and grandchildren to check in on. Like in your village.”
Tirna sighs and follows the dragon to the ground, sitting similarly to her. Xasandra pinches the fruit off of its stem and hands it to Tirna.
In her hands, the fruit is large enough that she must hold it in two palms. Her stomach growls, so she partakes, biting into the crispy rind, juice squirting and dripping down her chin and chest.
She pauses to wipe, muttering an apology, but Xasandra shakes her hand. “No need to worry. Get a little messy. You can always clean up later. Nothing will harm you here if you get a little sticky.”
Tirna’s lips quiver, her fingers tightening on the fruit. Her arms shake, but soon she chomps into the thing, devouring it with abandon, tears rolling down her eyes.
“It’s delicious, is it not?” The dragon says.
Tirna nods, gulping down a large, pulpy mash of sweet fruity goodness. “Y-yes, goddess Xasandra. Could you please let my people have it?”
Xasandra chuckles, leaning forward and sitting on her knees. She pats the human on her head and closes her eyes. “I'm afraid it isn’t that simple.”
“W… why not?” Tirna asks.
“Because,” the goddess says, sitting back upon her rump. “Such a fruit requires strict devotion and the leadership of one with divine spark upon them. But, once the seed is sewn and the harvest is complete, it shall bear the fruit necessary to save your people.
Tirna falls to her knees, dropping the core of the fruit beside her. She bows her head, resting her forehead upon the loamy soil, digging her fingers deep into the bed. “Please, Xasandra, I came to you for help, and I have nothing to offer but myself. I don’t… I don’t want to be a sacrifice, but I am desperate, and you are my last option and-”
Suddenly, she’s whisked up from the ground, held in the strong hands of the goddess, carried as if a baby by her mother.
The goddess coos and leans in, nuzzling her nose upon the human woman’s. “You were deceived into coming here. I have noticed that. You were carelessly thrown to danger by disobedient children who have forgotten from where they come.”
“My father…”
“Is a devil in human form for what he did to you. He is not worthy to be a parent.” She pulls Tirna in, pressing the woman up against her breast. The scales are soft, with a slight texture to them. It’s odd to Tirna’s smooth skin but not unpleasant.
“But, mpph!”
She hardly has the moment to protest when the enormous nipple of the dragon goddess. Even though she felt the previous bit of flesh, this is warmer and softer still.
She pulls back, turning away, muttering a quick apology.
“No need to worry about that, my child,” the dragon says. “You have been given to me, and I shall treat you better than your mortal father ever did. We can prosper your people and punish those who wronged you.”
“I should have had a normal life,” Tirna says, turning her gaze towards those large, inviting breasts. “I should have been a mother… a wife. I couldn’t even be a daughter because I lost my own mother when I was young. She couldn’t teach me anything.”
“Then, allow me to set you on the path to becoming all three. You can be the one who spreads my will to the people of your village and become whatever you want.”
“You’d really let me… be whatever I want?”
“Truly. You must devote yourself to me, trust me, and spread my word.”
Tirna bites her lip, her hand resting upon her stomach. “I don’t know… what to do to seal such a pact.”
Xasandra shifts, her heaving breasts rolling over Tirna like a blanket. “First, you must sup upon my divine milk. Then, you will start to become my voice in the world.”
Tirna’s face flushes red, her eyes latching onto the large and leaky nipple right in front of her. “Y-you mean I have to… like-like a baby?”
“You’ve done it before, have you not?”
Tears roll down Tirna’s eyes and cheeks, mixing with the sweet juices of the fruit. “Yes… I had. So long ago, when I still had my mother. I had no care in the world when she sang me to sleep.
The dragon’s breath blows upon the woman’s ear, and she whispers to her in a strange and melodic language. Tirna recognizes the rhythm of it from those cold winter nights in her family’s hut, a voice coming from her mother, who has long since gone.
That’s when the human places her hands around the proffered tit and lifts it up, bringing that nipple to her lips.
And so, the process of her baptism begins.
The warm, sweet liquid flows readily from the breast of the bountiful goddess. Its delicacy swirls through Tirna’s mouth as she suckles upon that teet, letting it wash over her cheeks and coat her tastebuds with the otherworldly delight and warmth it provides.
Bringing back instincts that her body and mind had long forgotten, she latches on and suckles, letting more and more of that delightful treat fill her up, gulping it down in large, pleased swigs.
All the tiredness from her travel up the mountain disappears, and her worries bubble and flow through her body as if she had a sticky treat and washed it down with a refreshing poultice.
She breaks the seal around Xasandra’s nipple, some of the milk leaking down, flowing through her without end.
Tirna gasps, pressing her thumb to the mound and wiping the leaking liquid. “I-I’m sorry. W… will you stop, or…?”
Xasandra chuckles, stroking a hand over the woman’s hair. “Oh, it’s quite alright, my child. I always provide when my children hunger.”
“You have children?” Tirna asks.
“I have many children, for I symbolize bountiful births. I wish to show women what they are capable of—to be mothers that will help cultivate the next generation.”
Tirna licks her lips. “W… why are you a dragon?
Xasandra pats the woman on the head, gently letting her down onto her feet.
“There are many mysteries in this world that you need not worry about, but if you are to spread my word to the world, you should know a few things about me.”
She stands tall, stepping up behind Tirna, wrapping her arms around the human woman and pulling her in. Those titanic tits of hers rest upon Tirna’s shoulders while the goddess holds her arms delicately. “Dragons,” she begins, “are some of the oldest creatures in the world. And they are the most virile. Dragons can sire and birth beings with many creatures, creating beautiful babies.”
Tirna bites her lip, placing her hands on her stomach. “That’s true?”
“Very much,” says the goddess. “And they make for passionate lovers with those that they meet.”
Tirna spins around, wrapping her arms around the goddess. “Then, if I do a good job and bring your word to my people, will you find a dragon to be my husband and the father of my children. So they can show the others that our village and people are yours?”
Xasandra squats down before the woman, tits sliding down, staining her with milk. She stares eye-t0-eye with Tirna, giggling gently. “Oh, my child, how you have turned around to me and my ideas so quickly. Is this truly what you wish?”
The woman blushes slightly, looking away from the dragon’s eyes. “I’ve always wanted to be a wife and mother. Finding a husband among a nearby tribe was just a means to that end.”
“Is that so?” the dragon asks, resting the woman’s cheek upon her palm. “Then, perhaps you would be happy to know that you won’t have to worry about finding a mate anymore. After you supped upon my milk, you are mine.”
“Yours… so will you give me a son of yours to be my husband?”
The goddess smirks. “Oh, child, I need not do something so out-of-the-way. We have all that we need right here.”
Tirna frowns at this. “I don’t understand, oh mother goddess.”
The goddess responds, lifting the woman up once more in the grasp, but it is a bridal carry instead of that motherly hold. “My dear, I am the representation of all fertility. Nothing is beyond my grasp.”
“T-then, you shall provide me a child w-without a father?”
A soft growl rises up from the dragon’s throat. “Oh, but where’s the fun in that.” She says this, leaning in, her maw opening, her tongue slipping out, pressing upon the woman’s cheek, flicking under her chin. It picks up the remnants of juice and milk and flicks down over her neck.
“W… aha… what are you doing?”
“Do you wish for motherhood?”
“M-more than anything.”
“Then, let me grant it to you with all the enjoyment the process entails.
The woman blinks, and then she blushes, and then she squirms in the dragon’s grasp. “I… yes. Show me, oh goddess, your power.”
Xasandra lays the woman down on the soft earth, and she nuzzles upon Tirna’s neck. “We can get right to it, of course, but a field is sown when properly tended.”
She kisses the woman now, softely with that snout of a mouth. Tirna’s lips pucker against that scaley skin, only for the warm tongue to press against her lips.
She yields to Xasandra, feeling that warm and thick muscle fills her mouth and explore her, tasting every inch within her and even teasing her to the back of her throat.
The goddess sits up, licking her mouth and nodding. “You drank so much that you taste my milk,” she sighs. “That is the devotion that I appreciate.”
Clawed hands reach down, tracing along Tirna’s collar and then swirling over the curve of her breasts. “These will become heavy soon, filled with your own milk, ready to feed your child as I have fed you.”
Tirna lifts her chest, closing her eyes.
She gasps when that dragon's tongue swirls around her nipple, flicking over the thing, stiffening that nub up.
“Yes, you will be an excellent mother, and I shall give you all the seed you need to become one and lead my people into their new lives.
“H… how…?” Tirna asks.
“Patience,” the dragon growls, her hand slipping down the woman’s side. “There’s so much more I need to enjoy from you before you receive me. And in this realm, we have all the time in eternity to show you every last thing.”


Tirna had never felt so intimate with another person. She had no idea that one could be so caring and so tender while exploring her body. Those long, dragon-tongue licks cover her body,  painting her with glistening delight. Her chest heaves up and down as the dragon moves her mouth lower and lower over her body, passing her breasts, tracing the mounds, and slipping along the side of her stomach.
The woman lays back, letting the dragon do as she pleases over her naked body. Tirna enjoyed the sun's warmth that beat down upon her, much warmer than she had remembered in a long time but not unpleasant.
The dragon’s tongue swirls around her navel, and soon, that snout presses against her womb, nuzzling her tenderly at that place of motherhood. Clawed hands slip up along her legs, massaging her calves and her thighs, slipping inside, cupping her deliberately.
Xasandra pulls those legs apart, the dragon’s breath hot and heavy upon the woman’s sensitive flesh. She presses her snout against Tirna’s body, nuzzling the peach. The glistening moistness teases the tip of her nose, and the goddess sniffs a long, sustained breath.
Tirna bites her lip, daring herself to move for the first time, reaching down over her body, feeling herself, cupping her breasts. Xasandra may be a goddess, but here and now, she feels like she is the one being worshiped.
She presses her thighs together, hoping to urge the goddess to keep her from disappearing from between her legs. Xasandra’s grip tightens, and she holds the human in place, a soft growl rising from her voice.
The goddess stares up at Tirna, over her delightful curves and wondrous mounds, a look of possessive dominance upon her draconic features.
Tirna whimpers at sight, but those fierce eyes shift and soften, a gentle giggle rising up from the motherly form between the virgin’s legs.
“Patience, my child,” Xasandra says. “You shall get what you deserve when I deem it. Now… let us see how well you are.”
Xasandra opens her maw wide, her tongue lashing out, thick and robust. It presses against the bottom of Tirna’s lips, molding itself around her shape. Pressing in against the woman’s flesh, the dragon’s tongue slips upward, tasting upon it the delight and desire that glistens at the woman’s folds, the thick base of that muscle making its way to her nub, rolling with expert attention at the clitoris.
Tirna gasps, raising her hips, pressing her elbows to the dirt beneath her. She forces herself up against Xasandra’s mouth, and the dragon responds by gripping her plump cheeks, lifting her up, and bringing Tirna’s womanhood up against her tongue even further.
That is when the appendage penetrates Tirna, wriggling within her, dancing within the woman’s walls in ways no mortal tongue could ever allow. It’s almost like a living thing in its own right.
Tirna’s eyes widened, her voice heightened, and she lifted herself by her hips, her shoulders holding her to the ground, giving her a view of the goddess before her.
Xasandra sits on her knees, holding the woman by the waist, her tongue deep inside of Tirna, wriggling and delveing into her. The thing is so big, so deep, plunging into depths far more than Tirna ever felt possible.
And the bulge in her body, moving around as the thick thing finds itself filling her. It is an experience of divine inspiration and of excitement unlike anything else. She cannot hold on. Her whole form tingles, her core warms even more than what the sun can provide. The pressure and the delight, and the burning desire make her mind cloud.
But that is nothing compared to the final moment, when the tip of that tongue presses up against the final barrier within her, wriggling at that entryway and then poking through.
It is an explosion of heat and sunlight that ravages the woman’s body at that very moment. No amount of self pleasureing she had done alone in her tent our out in the forest could compare her to the complet and total takeover that the goddess’s tongue had given her. She is a deluge of pure delight, her body convulsing against her will and responding to its own pleasures, unlocked by this experience of deific dalliance.
Xasandra pulls her tongue free from the womb of the woman beneath her, gently laying the convulsing human down onto the ground. She slurps her tongue back into her mouth, a soft chuckle rising from her throat. “Very good, indeed,” she coos. “You are indeed a worthy vessel for my seed.”
Bleary-eyed and dazed with pleasure, Tirna grunts and then adds. “Y… your?”
The goddess stands, one foot and then the other, towering over the woman, blocking out the sun with her size. “Oh, yes, my seed. Who else is better to give you what you need?”
“B… but… how?”
Xasandra smirks. “I am the goddess of fertility. I can be many things.” She places her hands upon her collar. “Mother, goddess…” she slides her fingers down, trailing over her breasts, swirling over her nipples. “Even a father.”
“I… impossible.”
“Not with my power, it isn’t,” Xasandra coos, her hands down over her body, slipping down her sides, tracing her pelvic bone, slipping in between, fingers on her thighs, thumbs together right above her womanhood.
Her clitoris throbs underneath those clawed digits, and with a sigh and a thrust of her hips, it erupts from within her, a glistening pole, quivering and pulsing.
Tirna hops up to her elbows, gasping. “T… that’s…!”
Gripping that shaft, the goddess, growls. “Oh yes, it’s for you, and it’s the tool with which you shall receive your firstborn. Now, are you ready for it?”
Tirna swallows, patting her stomach, feeling that warmth tingling within her. She closes her eyes, sighs and smiles. “Yes, my goddess… let me bear your children.”


Xasandra, draconic goddess of fertility and deliverer of all bounty, stands before the newest convert to her worship. The goddess’s newly grown cock glistens in the sunlight, dripping with the juices of its genesis.
Before her, the human woman Tirna spreads her legs for the first time, her elbows supporting her as she sits upon the mossy earth of the goddess’s divine realm.
“You can feel the anticipation welling up within you, can’t you?” the goddess asks, hands sliding up and down her scaled body. One cups a bountiful breast, squeezing it. Droplets of milk slip out from between her fingers, rolling down as rivulets down the back of her hand and her arm.
Tirna gulped, her mouth going dry as she stared at the wonderful body of the woman, the miracle, before her. She nods, squeaking out an affirmation.
“Very good,” The goddess says, her free hand wrapping around that feminine cock. She strokes along that thing, slipping the lubrication over it, licking her lips. “For it has been awhile since I have sired a new life into the world. Those born of my womb are of this realm, but those who take root within the body of a mortal are meant for greatness in yours.”
“T… there are others out here…?  In your realm?”
Xasandra climbs down onto her knees, grabbing the woman’s thighs and pulling them apart. “Perhaps,” she coos, letting the cock rest upon the servant’s pelvic mound. “But your womanhood is for mine this day.”
The dragon pulls her hips back, her cock sliding across that untested womanhood. Those lips, enver having tasted a penis before, salivate in their preparation.
When the tip presses against their folds, Tirna blushes, bringing her legs together, clamping them around the goddess’s sides.
“Don’t you worry, my dear,” the dragon coos, brushing her palm along Tirna’s cheek. “I shall take care of you. Shh… shss….”
She pushes forward, but in a slow, deliberate action. Despite the anticipation of the human woman, her inexperience in the realm of sex, she accepts it eagerly, if only with a few hesitations from her body.
“You are so tense right now,” the goddess says, laying down upon the woman. Their breasts press together as the weight of the deity’s curvacious body warms up the already warmed skin of the woman.
“I… I’m worried, but…”
“But there’s nothing to worry about. I shall take care of you, if you follow me.”
“O… of course…” Tirna says, her lips quivering.
Hesitating for but a moment, Tirna presses her lips against the dragon’s mouth, pecking her.
“How adorable,” the dragon says, pulling her hips back. She pushes them in gently more, inching further within.
“Ah!?”
From that gasp, Xasandra’s tongue can enter Tirna’s mouth, slithering around, filling her.
Tirna’s eyes roll back, and her body collapses into a puddle of sensation and delight. She Parts of her relax, while others tense up. She grips onto that muscled and scaled back of the matronly deity. Her thighs preass against wherever they could. Her toes curl, and she pushes her hisp up,
The goddess pulls her mouth back, slurping her tongue in after the fact, licking her lips. “Still so tense. That’s alright, though. We shall make sure that you are pleased before the day is through.”
She pushes forward again, hands resting upon her servant’s butt, lifting her up gently to give it a mroe adequate angle. The length slips in, then pulls out, and then it slips in further.
Tirna sighs, loosening the grip on her thighs, letting her hands finally fall to the sides, and she just learns to let go and let the goddess have her way.
She closes her eyes, biting her lips, humming in delight as the pace quickens and her walls give way, giving up.
“My, my, you’re an active girl, aren’t you?” the goddesss says, pushing her way deeper, filling the woman up, a bulge forming in her stomach from the sheer girth of the cock.
“A… aah…. Nnnnn…?
“That’s fine,” the goddess coos, kissing upon the woman’s neck. She nuzzles her, licking the sensitive skin.
“Let’s get ready for the real fun,” the goddesss says, pushing her hips forward, making that thing slip deeper to the point where finally their bodies connect.
The woman underneath grits her teeth, her body quivering. Never had she felt something so rigid within her. It’s so different than that tongue that invated her earlier, and so much better!
“Good,” The goddess growls, pulling back and slapping her hips agianst the woman’s body. This begins the thrusting, plapping pace that continues their fucking, all the while the goddess licks and kisses over her servant’s body, cooing and whispering gently into her with the language of dragonkinds.
Tirna huffs and gasps with higher and higher pitch as the goddess claims her every inch , slapping aginast her body, rubbing and stimulating and hitting her spot over and over again.
“I’m getting close, dear…” the goddess says. “Soon, you’ll have my child!”
“Y… yes!” the woman cries, her thighs squeezing the goddess. Her legs wrap around her, pulling her in, forcing her deep, connecting the two together like never before.
The woman howls in pure delight as her walls contract around that cock, her world rocked in ways she’d never have in the ralms of mortality. She knows htis, and she loves the goddess for showing her this.
But even that climactic high is nothing compared to the sheer torrent of warmth that shoots up into her, deluging her with the seeds of new life, swimming deep in her warm body, seeking the egg that is in there, and burrowing into it.
All this she feels and she knows on an instinctual level. And the goddess does not pull away, keeping into her, huffing and nuzzling against Tirna’s neck.
“And soon,” the goddess says, “you shall be a mother.
“But more than that, you are my divine herald… and to be that, you shall be reborn.”
“W… what shall I do…?’ Tirna asks.
“Soon, you shall see,” the goddess says, picking the woman up, wrapping her in a tight embrace.


Tirna curls up in the hold of the powerful and sensitive dragon. Within her churns the starter of new life, coalescing into the first moments that shall one day lead to the next generation—a leader for her people, and one who will be of great use to all.
“Now, my dear child,” the goddess says, whispering into the woman’s ear. “If you wish, you may go through the rite of rebirth yourself, and through that rite, you shall become that which delivers your people out of their despair and famine.
Tirna’s eyes flutter open as she glances up to Xasandra’s, a smile forming on her lips. “What other wondrous thing must I commit to in order to do that, my love?”
The goddess chuckles, extending her powerful wings. She places the woman down on the ground before her and she too sits upon the soft soil.
It is the goddess’s turn to sit back, spreading her legs, wider than Tirna had ever seen anyone able, or willing, to accomplish.
The once mighty cock that sprouted out of the goddess’s pussy shrinks back to the clitoral nub. What greets the human, then, is the glistening and enflamed lips of the dragon goddess’s womanhood, lookingh so inviting and warm.
“But, goddess,” teh woman says, scooting up towards that delightful peach, “I have nothing with which to please your body.”
Xasandra flutters her eyes. “Not as your current self, you don’t,” she admits, “but if you taket he plunge, you can become something much more, something that will be the perfect mother for what grows within you.”
Tirna places her hands on her stomach, rubbing it gently. “And what if I don’t take this step?”
“You may not be strong enough to control the divine child that grows within you. It could become a curse upon the world. Perhaps it could even lead your whole village to ruin.”
“W… why did you let this happen without telling me?” Tirna asks, gripping her stomach.
“No mother knows what their child will become,” the goddess says, curling a finger in toward herself, beckoning Tirna closer. “We only do what we can with what we’re given by nature and by nurture. I simply offer you more tools to handle what is to come. No human in history has handled their progeny perfectly. You will be no exception, unless you take this trial.”
“So, I shall be perfect?”
“Perfect for what’s to come after you.”
Tirna swallows and crawls forward. “What do you need of me, oh goddess?”
Xasandra places her hand upon the woman’s head, pressing her face right up against her divine feminity.
Tirna squeaks, but her voice is muffled up against that hot, steamy core. She makes like the goddess before her and produces kisses that go upon the lips.
The goddess wraps her long, strong tail around the human, guiding it around her stomach, squeezing her with a gentle intention. Her legs close in, heels pressing upon Tirna’s ass. All these things serve to push her further, and Tirna takes it as needing to open her mouth and to let her tongue slide out.
It laps up and down along Xasandra’s folds, tasting the deific nectar that Xasandra produces, showing to the world how ready the goddess is to take some god’s powerufl rod. But Tirna has no such thing. She can never have such a thing. SHe is but a mortal woman who has hardly experienced the joys of sex before this day. What can she, with only a tongue, do for the great Xasandra.
And yet, Xasandra tilts her head back and she ltes out a great sigh. She coaxes the woman further, pushing her in, but surely it’s enough? Tirna presses her hands against the dragon’s thighs, seeking stability, even as those lips part further and further, allowing her nose and mouth to slip in.
With another push from the goddess, the mortal realizes that something much more is at work here, for with that shove from her feet and tail, Tirna’s face disappears within the warmth of the goddess.
She squeaks and she moans and she squirms around, faced wtih that warm darkness surrounding her. It’s moist and the scent overwhelms her, but it isn’t terrifying. In fact, as more of her head slides within, she finds herself eager then to see exactly what was going to happen. She presses her knees against the ground, pushinging herself, wriggling as her neck disappears inside, spinning around as she leans this way and that to let one shoulder an then another, kiss the goddess’s folds.
Outside, Xasandra groans, shuddering, licking her lips. “Oh, yes, my dear. To become a full daughter of mine, you msut be re born… and to be reborn, you must enter the womb again!”
She gets both hands around the human now, pushing her further within, gripping her tightly, standing and shoving her further up within her, the womb itself so inviting and gripping, pulling and sucking Tirna inside of her, disappearing past her breasts, squeezing her upper body, making the comfort so much more palpable.
Tirna scooches and reaches upward, climbing now, reaching for that womb, excitedly meeping and cooing as she kicks her feet.
It is wiht the goddess’s hands that guide her that she’s able to have her  hips push through. And the goddess then takes to the sky, flying high into the air, and flipping to face down.
Now with gravity working among them, Tirna finally disappears within the folds of the mother goddess, and in that warmth, she wraps herself up, her arms around her knees, her knees aginst her chest.
And she closes her eyes, falling asleep to the comforting tones of the dragon who pats her stomach, fying off into the great blue sky of that divine realm.


Inside the black warmth of her divine mother’s womb, Tirna experiences a calm the likes of which she had never felt before. No, that isn’t quit right. For she had felt this way before she had been born, when the most primordial of her feelings gave her nothing but the most comfort and the most love befor seh could even conceive of the concepts. That was what life in the womb was, and to grant something this feeling when they are cognizant of its warmth and genuine love is the greatest of feats that a goddess could surely provide.
She cannot see inside the body of her divine mother, but she knows that they are moving. To where, of course, she doesn’t know. But she lets herself curl up into that fetal ball, nuzzling against herself as the warmth and love envelops her, taking her away from this life and into another, one charged with the divine energy that is sure to be something far greater than she could ever conceive of.
—
Xasandra lands on the mountaintop, taking her majestic dragon form, which is much more suited for carrying something of the size of Tirna within her. She walks along the entrance to her cave, when she stops, sniffing the air and pausing.
“You can come out now,” she says. “I won’t bite, unless you want me to.”
From the darkness of the cave, there emerges another dragon whose scales are that of a deep rose. She eyes the goddess, her own wings draped over her shoulders like a regal cloak. “I seem to have come at a bad time?”
“There’s no such thing,” Xasandra coos. “Of course, I must warn you that I already have a seed growing within me. It’ll take awhile before she’s ready to come out, Straiesha.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” responds thes pink dragon, stepping past the goddess and sitting upon the cliff, looking ofver the divine domain.
Xasandra steps up beside the other dragon, sitting behind her, looming over her with her much more massive size. “So, what news has the council have that they’d send a member like you to my domain? It must take a lot of power, not to mention wealth from their hoards, to send someone here.”
“I’m not here on behalf of the council,” Straiesha says. “I’ve come to speak with you.”
“Well, isn’t this a rare treat,’ the goddess coos. “And why would you want to converse with a ‘traitor’ like me?”
“I don’t see you like that.” Straiesha says.”
“No?” Says Xasandra, resting her head upon the other dragon’s horns. “But I gave up my status as a mortal dragon. I forsook my place among the council. I’ve joined the ranks of the divine they so desperatrely want to call themselves better than.”
“They’re foolish,” Straiesha says,” They claim they want to preserve this world, but they only seek to stagnate it.”
“Oh, is this because you’re a horny dragon?” Xasandra says. “All of our kind want to fuck. It’s only natural.”
“I’ve tried to explain that to them!” Straiesha snarls, but they won’t give the other beings a chance. Why, because they are not related to dragon-kind?”
Xasandra coos and sits next to her, gazing over the domain. “If that’s all there is, I have been championing a solution to that for a while now.”
“I know, and that’s why I’m here.” Straiesha says. “I want magic to be passed down by generations. I want the smaller, shorter-lived races to have a happy existence, and I wan t them to live how they’d want it—not how that council deems it necessary.”
“Passing down magical knowledge through family lines? Why, that’s quite discordant of you, isn’t it? YOu could cause a lot of trouble like that, but it’s easily doable, if you join the ranks of the divine, yoruself.”
Straeisha snarls at that. “No. After what you had to do to become a goddess, why would I even consider such a thing!”
Xasandra chuckles slightly, patting her stomach. “Well, let’s not get too heated. It will be too much for the new rebirth inside me,” she says. “We don’t want to give this new one any nightmares.
She flutters her eyes, smirking at Straiesha, “But, we could give her a little something special, if you want. Come back and see me when she’s ready to come out.”
“And when might that be, oh divine being?”
—
Tirna stirs and stretches, only to find that she has hit resistance. She plants her palmst against the side of the rounded walls around her, swirling around in the dark warmth that had been her home for who knows how long. Suddenly, thenshe feels something happening around her, but what it is, she cannot tell.
Beyond her home, Xasandra lays upon the ground, her hind legs spread, her rear risen. And before her stands the more humanoid-shaped Straiesha, holding her hands out wide. The pink dragoness narrows her gaze as the vagina walls open and spread, the white egg crowning, glistening with teh juices of delight.
“Here she comes!” Straiesha says. “It looks alright!
With a nod, the goddess grunts, and the egg plops out of her, so easily as to show how often the goddess has granted new life to this world. It tumbles out, knocking the pink dragonesss over, laying heavily upon her chest.
Xasandra stands up, taking on the more humanoid aspect that Tirna was familiar with and presses her body up against the form, stroking her hands over the egg, nuzzling it. “Oh, Straiesha, the things we’re going to do to this new rebirth… we’re going to create a world so fecund… so virile. It will spread forever.”
“It’s a price we have to pay to give people the freedom they deserve, “ the pink dreagoness says.
And upon saying those words, she witnesses the first of many cracks appearing on the shell.
Tirna stirs inside her surrogate womb, the  human woman hearing sounds of both familiar and unknown voices, muffled through the dark shell. She stretches and pats against the walls of her prison, now so cold and seperate. She is no longer inside her divine mother, the light of the sun around her is enough for that. It is a distant, uncaring warmth compared to the heat from within Xasandra’s womg, yet iit is still one that she wishes to bask in under her own flesh.
Her palms aren’t enough to shatter the exterior. She slams her body against it, breasts squishing against the egg, making it roll back and forth. She bashes her forehead through the shell, but it doesn’t work either.
Her breath returns to her as she wobbles about. That means that fluid that sustained her all this time no longer can. Her lungs scream for the fresh air of her divine mother’s realm. Her nails scratch and scrape, finally puncturing through.
She claws and scratches, but the tiny aperture is not enough. She presses her feet against the bottom and butts her head against it, this time the top of her cranium. But bewfore she can feel the impact upon her skull, something else on her crown strikes the shell, shattering it, breaking her free.
What emerges from the egg rears back, screaming out in an inhuman voice as it gulps down the first breaths of air in a time she does not recount. When she collapses onto the ground, draped in the fluid that held her alive for so long, she claws the dirt, breathing heavily.
“I will get used to this,” speaks the unknown voice. The pink dragon looms over the newly birthed woman.
“That’s because you lack the vision, and a mother’s love. You really should try it sometime, Straiesha.”
“M… Mother…?” Tirna groans, shuddering.
A gentle thumb brushes Tirna’s face, pulling the amniotic fluid from her eyes. When the woman blinks, she sees the goddess in her humanoid dragon form sitting before her now, and a moment later, Xasandra plulls her in, their scaled bodies rubbing against one another, the wamrth so delicate and wonderful.
Tirna’s wings unfurl as the goddess’s hands run over her back, her tail slipping from side to side.
It is at that moment that she roars and writhes in her mother’s grasp, claws gripping Xasandra’s shoulders, footclaws digging into the ground and against her divine mother’ thighs, climbing and scrambling to get away.
“She’s not exactly the most stable, is she?” complains Straiesha, who stands there in that anthropomorphic form with a taller, leaner build than Xasandra. She strokes her chin, narrowing her gaze.
“There there, baby,” Xasandra coos, “your divine mother has you. You’re alright, you’re alright!”
Hearing that voice and feeling those arms hold her close, the newly birthed dragon woman huffs and puffs and leans against Xasandra’s shoulder, clinging to her. “What did you do to me?”
“You weren’t strong enough as a human to bear the burden of your destiny,” The goddess says. “So, you have become a demigod of your own right, one who can raise her child to be something much greater than what it could have been otherwise.”
It takes a while for the newly hatched dragon to come to some sort of sense, but once she does, her voice comes softly and gently. “C… can I see?”
“Of course,” Xasandra says, stroking her crown. She lifts Tirna up and carries her bridal style past the small clearing and to a crystal clear lakeside. Placing the neophyte down, the goddess stands behind her, smiling always at her new creation.
Straeisha steps up to stand behind Xasandra, holding her arms close to herself. “How long does this fog usually last?”
“It’s different for each of my children,” the goddess admits. “It sometimes takes a lifetime to regain their personality and faculties from their previous lives. Others, of course, are completely reborn as something new.”
“You mean something inept.”
“You have a problem with my children?”
‘”I have a problem,” Straiesha growls,” with taking a life and addling their mind for your eugenics.”
“Says that dragon who wants to seed the population with magical bloodlines. In fact,” she says, turning to the dragon. “You are free to do so with my new daughter here whenever you are ready.”
“I’ll wait to see what she has to say on the matter.”
Tirna sits by the lakeside, looking at the warbling reflection beneath her. She brushes her scaled fingers over her cheek and down along her snout. Much like Xasandra, she was humanoid in shape but with draconic features in the face. Her body is scaled, but still noticably the same sort of gentle roundness she had as a human. On top of that is a noticeable belly, gravid with an egg of her own, not doubt. AS she rubs her palm over the swollen thing, she gulps and turns hjer large, sorrowful eyes up towards the two dragons talking about her. “How long have I been in you?”
Xasandra smiles and pats her daughter upon the cheek. “Oh, my dear thing. “Time is different for you now as you are not bound by the human conceptions of age.”
“How long has it been?”
Streisha steps forward this time, holding out a hand. “Long enough that the village you return to, while prosperous, won’t remember Tirna.”
“M… my father?”
“He led a great and long life. His reign will be remembered as one of prsoperity,” Xasandra says.
Tirna curls back up into that fetal position she had so recently had. It’s comfort soothes her for the duration of this strangeness, this alien body, this new time.
“Be not worrisome, my child,” Xasandra says. “ Would not have done this for you if I did not know what was in your heart. Your desire to be a mother and to help your people are both realized. They need to see their goddess now, and you shall return to them.”
Hidden far from the world of draconic order is the village of Xanan. It is a place that has lived in prosperity for at least a generation, thanks to the sacrifice made by its leader of his only child. Despite the lineage breaking, the people of the village and their closest neighbors enjoy the prosperity of bountiful harvests and plentiful population growth, to the point where they have spread all around the mountain that peaks above their home, creating a ring around it.
It is a peaceful, if uneventful, existence, and one that the people would not give up for anything.
So, when teh mountain rumbles with a strange and unpredicted anger, many stopped their daily lives to watch with fear and trembling as a massive shadow descended from it, spreading across teh entire town to eclipse the life-giving warmth of the sun for only a minute, but it is a minute that changes their lives forever.
“The spirits of the mountain must demand more from us,” says the current leader. He turns to his only child, his son, Kiernan, and with a heavy burden on his heart, sends the boy, no man, for he is now 18, up the mountain.
Kiernan climbs the steep and trecherous path, eventually making his way to the summit with the backpack laden wiht offerings. He makes it to the altar stone and dumps his contents out before it, only to pause and frantically search through the stones and debris.
“Tricked you up here, didn’t they?” comes the playful voice from behind him.
Kiernan spins around. The young man’s eyes widen as he sees the cloaked figure sitting on the cold rock. Where her skin shows is scaley, and in her hands she holds an egg, placed upon her lap. When she looks up, her dragon’s snout becomes visible, and through it she shows her bright blue eyes. “My name is Tirna. Do you know of me?”
Kiernan shakes his head.
“So, the people have already forgotten me? Has it really been that long?”
“Who are you… I mean, what are you? The spirit.”
“I’m a spirit, but not the one the altar is for.”
“Oh, I see…” he says. “I didn’t mean to bring nothing. I was told this had food in it, our prosperity given to the goddess who lives here.”
She stands, her cloak falling aside, revealing her curvy and bountiful form and bright green scales. “Oh, but you have given out of your prosperity.” She says this, walking up to him, one hand caressing her egg, the other pressing against his chest. “For the men of your village weren’t nearly as robust the last time I was there.
“I… is that so?” he gasps, gulping.
“Oh yes. You’re a strong lad, aren’t you?” she leans in, sniffing. “And you’re 18?”
“I started the trek on the morning of my birthday,” he admits.
“So, you are a virgin?”
He puffs out his chest. “Of course I am. What a silly question.”
“Do you still want to be, now that the taboo of Aoc is no longer a curse upon your head?”
He blinks. “I, uh, don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to,” she says, stroking over his shirt. “All you need to know is that you’ve brought the sacrifice, and I’m ready to receive it,” she punctuates this with a primordial growl and a licking of her snout.
“Oh? Ohh!”
“Yes.”
She grips his shirt, pulling it up over his head. The young man complies, showing off the muscles he obtained with the mix of a healthy diet and the strenuous exercise of a farmer. She pushes him down against the stone slab, knocking the pebbles and rocks aside as she climbs atop him, always holding her egg close. She leans in over him, her breasts dangling above his face. “You’ve been staring at this, young man,” she growls. “Go ahead and take of them what you will.”
He grabs at those wonderous breasts, bringing them together and wrapping his lips around them, groaning as he suckles upon them, her milk springing free.
Beyond the veil, in the realm of the goddess, Xasandra coos gently, sitting back and petting the head of another one of her pets. “And so, the circle of life continues.”
She shudders, her breath becoming visible. “Even here in my realm?” She says, swirling around.
Behind her, an icy simulacrum of a majestic dragon appears before her, its crystalline eyes weeping as it melts in the warmth of her domain.
“You’re treading on dangerous ground, Xasandra,” the icy voice beckons to her. “You are really going to give the lesser races magic?”
“I didn’t see you trying to stop me,” she purrs, standing up and tapping her chin. “Oh, that’s right, you can’t! Because I’m a goddess, and you’re just a mortal yourself. How does it feel, Trey, being a so-called lesser race to someone as mighty as myself?”
He growls, stepping back from her. “You betray dragonkind, and for what?”
“For something greater than dragonkind, for an immortality beyond that you could conceive of—the immortality of ideas of bloodlines. Deep down, we are all the same things, bit by bit. What comes together makes us different, and that difference is merely superficial.”
“Not when you are made of something, not of this world. You gave up your body, your people, and your world. Your seed and your may still exist in the prime material, but you cannot. One day, Xasandra, you and the other gods will fall. It is only a matter of time.
“Yes, but what I plant shall grow into something wonderful.”