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.