A Different Knight's Gambit

A renowned warrior-poet of old once wrote that love is a battlefield. Or something along those lines. Sir Charles couldn't be bothered to remember the specifics; he already knew he was on to something. A decisive victory could be won only with surprise and overwhelming force. But how?

Charles was no stranger to the wages of love, having bested, bedded, and wed a great red dragon. He was now more-or-less retired from his life as a paladin, mostly just protecting the town he and his wife Elizabeth had settled near and joining a crusade or two when they came knocking. Money certainly wasn't an issue and few outside the local area would trust a man who lived with a dragon, so he had little reason to work or travel.

It was this comfortable lifestyle that led his mind to wander. Since he had largely given up smiting, he would need something new to dedicate his life to. It was not long after that that he made his lover and one-time adversary his wife. He never regretted his decision, but it would not be inaccurate to say that it still felt as though something was missing. Their life was empty, a man and his dragon alone in an enormous cavern, more than a day from the nearest living soul. Life simply held no challenge, no motive force. Practically anything could be solved by nigh-infinite wealth and the city-destroying power.

Charles wracked his brain for a solution to his predicament, something he could do with his wife that would not be made trivial by breathing fire, a token of their love and mutual dedication, as well as a proper cause to which they could dedicate the whole of their effort and devotion. He was fairly confident that there was an obvious solution he was just overlooking. Whenever he had faced such dilemmas in the past, he sought the council of a priest of his faith, someone who had been educated in matters other than smiting heathens. The nearest temple operated by his order was nearly a month away, but he knew he must go.

He left the next morning, informing his wife that he was leaving on a quest for divine inspiration and that he would return shortly. There he met with a venerable cleric, a kind and insightful old man who presided over an orphanage. The conversation was short, ending almost immediately after the knight had finished recounting his concerns to the reverend, who unceremoniously ejected him from his chambers for "being a fool".

Lost and without a soul to turn to, he wandered the town in a trance. His idle wanderings led him to a fallowed field on the outskirts. By all rights, it should have been a lonely place, an isolated patch of land not even farmers would bother to visit until at least next season. Yet instead of being abandoned, it had become a playground for the village's children. Dozens of young boys and girls of all ages frolicked in the field,enjoying the brief period of youth before responsibility stole their carefree innocence. It was amazing how children could change so much just with their presence. Suddenly, while watching the children of the town bring warmth and happiness to a remote, lonely place, an idea came to him.

He approached a young girl who sat, resting on the soft field of clover. Few would have thought of such a solution, but Sir Charles prided himself on his ability to think outside of the box. He sat down next to her and began telling her his story. If his was problem even the sagacious priest could not solve, perhaps the youthful naivete of a young girl would provide an answer. They conversed for some time before she answered him. Upon hearing her answer, he knew immediately that this little girl was wise far beyond her years. The knight hopped up from the ground, armor clattering as he strode home with new-found enthusiasm. Time to make a baby.

A few months later, Sir Charles found himself at a table, surrounded by ancient manuscripts, in the nation's grand library. He sat with Elizabeth as they poured over the volumes day and night, pursuing his objective with the same single-minded dedication that led him to her during his days as a dragon slayer.

When he had returned to her after his journey for inspiration and told her of his plan, his elated spirit fell quickly at her despondent response. She should have conceived long ago, considering the frequency of their couplings and the notorious fertility of human/dragon relationships. As he came to learn, it was her concern over this matter that troubled her so these last few years. She had tried every solution known to dragonkind, yet could not seem to bear a child. She had even resorted to hiring sorcerers to improve her fertility by magic, yet none could tell her what was wrong, much less how to fix it.

Charles responded the only way he knew how, rushing off with Elizabeth to the nation's capital to research her condition themselves. It did not take long for them to discover what ailed her. On occasion, a dragon assuming the form of a human may make an error, rendering herself infertile in her human body in such a way that not even magic could restore her. While they celebrated the discovery at first, they quickly fell glum upon realizing their prognosis: conception was impossible while she took the form of a human woman.

Of course, this did mean that her draconic body was still fertile. However, the prospect of a mere human impregnating a being so large was dubious at best. They searched tirelessly for a solution, yet nothing they could think of would work. Fertility magic could not make up for their size difference. Even size alteration would not work unless the effects were permanent. Naturally, neither would accept the idea of having another man or woman sire their child. They were stumped.

During one of their long, lonely nights in the library, Charles hatched a plan. If the problem was just size and volume, certainly old-fashioned human ingenuity could solve it. Producing such an enormous quantity of semen would be difficult, but certainly doable. He attacked the library with unrestrained vigor, knowing for the first time since they arrived where to look. Elizabeth seemed nearly frightened by his manic excitement. There it was. His solution, plain as day. An answer no one else would even consider. It was beautiful. It was ingenious. It was mad.

A common man may think that siege weapons had no place in the bedroom. Sir Charles was no common man. In the time between sleep and wakefulness in the deserted library, a fleeting memory of the siege of Dunlain entered his mind. There had been a great wheeled tower, equipped with a massive ramp and an iron ram for pounding though thick castle walls. He was a mere squire at the time, a brash youth full of immaturity and contempt for proper behavior. Riddled with the hormones and stupidity endemic to a pubescent male, he snickered inappropriately at the phallic imagery of the ram smashing through the gates of the city and the tide of men flooding into the city.

The memory from his youth made him cringe in embarrassment (particularly since he fell off his horse almost immediately thereafter, in front of the other squires), but it proved invaluable now. If he could not impregnate her directly, he would invent something that could. He spoke not a word to his wife, intent upon surprising her. He feigned disappointment, sending her home in apparent defeat while he stayed behind to "tie up loose ends". The next day, he sought a carpenter. A carpenter who would no ask too many questions.

--------------------------------------------------------------

"Would you like a hand, dear? I am quite a bit larger than you."

Accepting help at this point would totally defeat the purpose, though Charles did have to admit that he underestimated the amount of chain required to tie down a dragon. The idea seemed so much sexier before he thought it all the way through. He hadn't actually expected her to accept the idea of being bound so quickly. If nothing else, it was something interesting to keep in mind for the future.

They had not even begun and he was already breathing hard and sweating as he secured the last chains to the eye bolts he had set in the cavern floor the day before. He inspected his work carefully, testing every chain and every linkage. Chains wrapped around her body and legs, binding her to the floor. Her tail was bound up, a leather harness holding aloft the base of her tail to keep her sex exposed. Certain of the quality of his work, the paladin finally allowed himself to step back and observe the fruits of his labor.

The sight of his draconic mate blindfolded and restrained was more than he could take. Rivulets of her fluids rolled down her thick scales, the puddle between her legs testifying to her arousal. The smell was intoxicating, the air wet and heavy with the fiery aroma of her lust. It was all Charles could do to restrain himself from crawling inside her, surrounding himself in her warmth and scent and the pleasure of her clenching walls. Her soft, heavy breaths of anticipation cut through his reverie before he gave in to temptation. She was waiting, literally dripping with anticipation and here he was, fantasizing about her.

He sought penance by working quickly, removing the gift wrapping from the enormous wheeled battering ram. The ram itself was light, for a ram, an unfortunate concession he had to make to ensure that he could operate it by himself. Still, there was a certain unique appeal in seeing an enormous model of your own cock sculpted from wood and lacquered smooth, even if it took a week to find a carpenter willing to take his measurements. It swayed majestically from a set of well-oiled ropes, looking to him as if it were just as eager to begin as he. Despite the arousal slowly clouding his mind, he knew that if he did not do this right, he may as well not do it at all. A few quick checks and adjustments told him that the ram, at least, was ready for action. All that remained was the final surprise, the ultimate fruit of his labor.

Where the might of dragons and the minds of sages failed, the tenacity and strength of a knight would succeed. More than fifty gallons worth of his own semen, magically preserved and sealed inside an airtight cask sat behind the ram. A hose of intestines, reinforced by leather stretched to create a sealed path between the ram and the tank. An iron lever held closed a simple valve at the end of the hose, halting the incredible mass of fertility from entering the urethra-by-proxy. It was a masterpiece of creativity, perseverance, and over-frequent masturbation -- too insane to fail.

He aligned the contraption, setting his sights on the greatest thing this world had to offer. Puffy. Dragon. Vulva. He could not help but feel a pang of jealousy as he drew the enormous dildo back, his own erection growing uncomfortable and straining against the leather apron he wore. With a grunt of exertion, he threw the ram forward with all his might, striking his target with practiced skill.

The model cock slammed into place, spearing her to the hilt in an instant. Elizabeth had no idea what hit her. The massive intrusion spread her soaking folds with incredible ease before withdrawing as quickly as it entered. She quivered in anticipation as she waited for the next thrust to split her open. A slow but steady rhythm of powerful strikes struck her, hammering into her with mechanical precision. She lowered her hips, aligning her sodden hole to place her most sensitive spots in the path of the ram.

Nothing she ever felt before could compare to this. The bizarre contraption fucked her mindlessly, seeking no pleasure for itself while allowing her to direct its travel. That she could do nothing to vary its speed only turned her on more, her body tightening and rushing to meet its rhythmic thrusts and tingling numbly ever time it left. It existed solely to please her, a gift from her husband to fuck her in a way he never could on his own.

Her first orgasm came quickly, the long preparation having set her on a hair trigger. Her cunt struggled to hold and squeeze the intruding member, defeated easily by its momentum and the excessive lubricant that poured from inside her. Her claws tore against the stone floor as she howled, nostrils alight with the literal flames of desire. He fucked her without respite, plowing straight through her orgasm at the same pace.

Even when the pleasure faded, her sensitivity had not. Every thrust set her nerves alight as post-orgasm sensitivity left her gasping. The ram plowed her without slowing, heedless of the overwhelming pleasure that racked her body. Tied down and blindfolded, she could do nothing to avoid its mechanical penetration. She was entirely at his mercy and loving it. Her cunt was raw and probably bruised from the force of its thrusts, but oh so very sensitive. Every inch of her engorged passage tingled with pleasure before being overcome with each new penetration.

Her body slumped to the floor, her hips alone raised above the cold stone as she welcomed every thrust without resistance. Her hind legs stood unsteadily, shaking involuntarily and adding a pleasing vibration to the relentless onslaught of the fake cock. Her voice flowed unrestrained, moaning and pleading for more as she reveled in submissive fantasy. They fought for dominance so often that she could not help but delight in her helplessness, gasping and pleading as much for her own entertainment as his. She could do nothing but accept his love with enthusiasm.

She came again while picturing her husband's reaction to her strained vocalizations and twitching sex. She hoped he was touching himself, pleasing his own cock as he set her alight with pleasure. She strained to hold her rear in place, legs long since devoid of feeling as all other stimulus faded to irrelevance next to the ecstatic heat that spread from her sex. She thought of nothing but the next stroke, the next wave of pleasure that gripped her as she spasmed fruitlessly around an artificial cock. A deep pleasured welled up inside her, pressure building in a place she never knew she had. The pressure burst at last in a spray of her fluids, coating everything behind her in the product of her ecstasy. She moaned and shuddered as she squirted, overcome by the new sensation.

Again the cock did not relent, slowing not even a fraction as her body writhed with mixed pleasure and pain as her sensitivity stretched her endurance to its limit. She could no longer feel individual thrusts, simply a constant dull pleasure and the hammering of her heart as her senses faded in self-preservation. Yet even as she teetered on the edge of consciousness, the incredible feeling of being pushed past her limits and fucked silly did not abate. Her cunt throbbed, clearly swollen and irritated by the uncaring ministrations of the mechanical member. She knew even with the fading light of her consciousness that she would not be able to sit for days, yet she held her rear resolutely in the air, eager to please and be pleased until she could stand no longer.

Her final orgasm cam without warning, an act of desperation from an exhausted body. Another spray of fluid shot from her depths as she shuddered and gasped, too fatigued to even moan. Her stupor was broken as the invading cock stopped suddenly at the bottom of a stroke, base rubbing gently against her swollen slit. A second later, a pleasant warmth flooded her soaking passage, escaping in spurts through the space between her convulsing sex and the rod lodged firmly inside her. A familiar wet trickle ran down her hindquarters as fluid continued to flow into her.

She knew this feeling, though she had not felt it in this form for some centuries. She was being fertilized. What would have been an extraordinary load even among her own kind flowed into her in a continuous stream. The realization alone sent her into a miniature orgasm no stronger than her aftershocks as she was filled. She knew at once that this was his true gift to her. There was no way she could not be pregnant after this. Her last thoughts as sleep gripped her was of her husband, her family-to-be, and the incredible effort he must have gone through to prepare this. He probably should have researched how much dragons cum, though. Cleaning this up was going to be a nightmare.

Charles wiped the sweat from his brow as he pushed the last of the mixed fluids into the drain with what now had to be the world's most disgusting mop. He had untied and led his exhausted wife from the room once she recovered, laying her to rest atop her hoard while he cleaned up from their prior activities. To be frank, he had no idea how much fifty gallons was. It seemed like so much less when he was filling the cask. Still, the floor was now relatively clean, even if it would take a fireball or two to unclog the drain before he could soap it down properly.

He had yet to clean himself off. Though the apron fought valiantly it had lost in the end to the sheer quantity of fluids flying around the room. Honestly, the smell was enticing-enough that he let it be, electing to put off bathing until cleanup was finished. He scrubbed, dried, and waxed the ram, paying special attention to clean and preserve the wooden phallus like the carpenter who made it had taught him. Content with his work, he sat on the mildly sticky floor to rest before putting away their various playthings.

The excitement now over, he found himself fretting over the real reason for the morning's activities. Had he succeeded? He was pretty sure that he could have gotten more than one session out of the amount he saved up, but the day was auspicious and he got caught up in the moment. The fertility cycle of dragons was arcane and never recorded by human hands, but he was absolutely certain that this was the best day for at least two years. He wanted to make absolutely certain that they would conceive and may have overdone things a little.

He was so distracted that he failed to notice the dragon in the room, standing as silently as a 30' pile of muscle and hardened scale could. It was only that she made a terror-inducing sound he recognized as her clearing her throat that his attention returned to the world around him. She was on him in an instant, nuzzling and licking affectionately as he did his best to rise to his feet.

"So I take it you liked your surprise."

She did not bother to respond verbally, instead nudging him insistently with her snout and rumbling with pleasure. He half-patted, half-pushed her snout when he realized that something was sticking from her mouth. He looked up at her quizzically as he took it. It was a wooden box, no larger than his hand but carved ornately and displaying beautiful craftsmanship on the hinges and latch. She nodded in silent command as he fiddled with the latch, opening it and puzzling over the contents. A small bottle of pink crystal sat atop a pillow.

"I've had this laying around for a while. I was waiting for a special occasion to give it to you. You worked so hard and so-" she glanced at the cask, still dripping long pearly strands, "incredibly long for my sake that I figured I should give something back. It's a potent aphrodisiac, probably the last surviving concoction of a long-dead alchemist. With this, I can make love to you for as long as you wish without pause or fatigue. I'd like to give you the same pleasure you gave me."

He stared suspiciously at the tiny bit of clear fluid inside the crystal. "Long-dead" meant that it had to be at least a hundred years old. He had consumed an old healing potion in the past and spent that night struggling to fend off a skeletal horde while expelling everything he had eaten in the last week from both ends at once. Perhaps if his opponents had been human, the fight would not have gone better. The mindless undead were, however, entirely unphased by his newly acquired breath weapon. It was an experience he had no interest in repeating.