The Clutch of Kerann

This erotic story features anthropomorphic (furry) characters, intelligent humanoid beings with both animal and human characteristics.

"The Clutch Of Kerann"

SHORT STORY

Author's Note: sequel to 'Dragon Clan Mother'.

The air flows beneath me as I soar. I feel it in my wings, as they catch great gusts of it — dry and frigid to the skin. How high I must be. I feel it in my scales, the white touch of frost as I burst through clouds. My limbs tuck tight as I surge through the sky.

I see mountains. Huge peaks cresting the smoky sea of cloud. I start to descend.

Two follow me. Two drakes, who accompanied me as I struck out from my home, in search of glory.

I flew far and reigned in fire. Lands scorched. Prizes seized...tucked away in fresh-dug vaults of my own design. I fold my wings, arms and legs keeping their position in line with the spear of my body, and accelerate. My feet curl as the wind massages me. From horned head to taloned toe, I am battered by the pleasure of rapid descent.

The two behind me do the same. We all fall together.

We pass through the cloud layer. I breathe through air-whipped nostrils. Soon I shall be on firm land. Up on the mountainside — at the gates of my old home. It has been a long time. Years away. I try not to think about change. To me, it has always looked the same.

Though I try, I fail. It is more...

More crowded. More fortified.

This was my work.

Mother...

A thought enters my mind. A stray, wandering inkling. Heat flows from my core.

Mother. I will see her soon. What will she think of me? Of my last gift to her?

Changing course, steering towards the rocky mountain gate, I check behind me for my serving-drakes. Alrax and Gynvic — loyal to a fault. The only ones who followed me. The only ones Mother allowed to follow me, for the days of scarcity were plentiful, and we could not spare a soul to dally.

Alrax soars to the left. Over my shoulder I see his slender grey-blue body a distant blur. He is cold. Inside and out. Without flame. His colours speak that truth. Evidence of a weakened bloodline. I call him brood-brother regardless. I do not care for that world. Of race, and blood, and purity. I only wish to roam. But I must return. Somehow, I feel her calling me home.

Kerann...

My name rings out aloud in her voice. It is my mind. Tricks of tiredness. I continue my descent.

Gyvnic, shimmering green in the corner of my vision, turns along with me, matching my course and speed. He flies with impeccable skill: agile, and quick-witted. A pity also he shows signs of weakness in my mother's eyes. Small, just like Alrax. Yet he kept the flame. The trajectory of our kind a mystery to me, it seems. He shifts his position, wings dipping, acknowledging me.

Kerann!

I can hear Mother's voice, rich as the night I left.

That night...when I gave her everything she ever wanted. I picture it. I fade into her arms and die happy...my soul searching for a sensation to match.

The mountain rises before me, and I spread my wings to slow down. My body rights in mid-air, arms spreading out in front of my wings, legs ready to absorb the landing. Some dragons fly with coverings — fine cloth and jewels. To that I say no! Never! I fly nude, without embargo. Weighed down not by trinkets and finery. Scratch their jewels, I roar in my head, as if to confront something else. Something I cannot shake.

Mother. The one who adorns herself most with products made of metal and stone. I see her, and her gaudy decorations, but cannot turn away. Not for all the females in the lands could I do so, such is her pull. How I wish...

Kerann.

...how I wish to feel it again.

We sail, like the ships of the frightened hairless ones; those who filled mine and my companions bellies many times over. Without them, and their fragile forms, we three would've starved. I lick my lips, eagerly awaiting what the hunters of our home have brought as a feast for my return. They will have spied my approach, the best eyes among them keeping watch over the skies.

An outcrop at the foot of the path to the mountain gate is our landing. I collide with solid ground, buckling as I strike the protruding bulk of the world. I save myself from rolling by mustering the strength of my body, an inheritance from my father — greatest in the skies. And Mother's long-lost love.

I grunt. A burst of flame escapes my jaws. Rising, I look to the path, then my companions.

Alrax and Gynvic reach me, their bare bodies on display. I'd ordered them to do as I. Fly as our ancestors did: naked. They did not share my enthusiasm. I made them obey me, with threats of breaking wings if they stepped out of line. Sympathy for their lives, good or ill, aside, they are still mine to command. It is my right — another thing the ancestors of my kind I thank for.

Gyvnic is spry. He lands without trouble. Alrax reaches the outcrop, and hits his leg off of the rocky edge. He tumbles forward, smashing into the ground to piteous remarks from his green-scaled equal. I turn, and glower at Gyvnic. He knows better than to put lesser drakes down. That is my prerogative, if it is anyone's to wield.

Up ahead, the entrance is marked with wide stone pillars. A fortress of squat creatures once stood here, before our kind took it from them. Now no roads lead up the mountain, for the way has been scorched and broken. Dragon-fire can crack even the sturdiest stone.

We three ascend, walking the dusty path. I growl. My feet will need washing, and my underlings are poor servants. Too quick to waste water and not thorough enough to reach every spot.

Arriving at the gate, two sterling drakes, hardy ones, flank the great pillars of the ruined stronghold. They are new, and surprise me with their stature. One looks at the other as I walk closer, craning forward in his post to get a clearer picture. Their faces belie their astonishment.

Reaching them, with my drakes in tow, I regard them as they did me. It's impressive...they almost reach my height, give or take a few horn-lengths. Muscled. Solid bodies. Rich scale colouration. They stand to attention, holding themselves with impeccable discipline. Mother has trained them well, I think in the back of my mind. They have piercings, along the frill of their ears and in certain corners of their wings. Her touch again. Bracelets, ringlets, greaves decorated with engraved lines — criss-crossing scratches of draconic talons. Small bands of fabric hold parts together, and a golden cuirass adorns their front, moulded to fit the hills and valleys of their chests. Beneath, hung from the waist by fancy rope, a satchel of cloth. Theirs bulge with maleness, all bunched up tight. I stand free, my shaft and stones dangling before their very eyes. They know not where to look. I grin, and chuckle. Mine exceeds theirs by quite an amount.

Even sharing my blood in their veins they do not best me!

One speaks, his voice furtive. "F-Father-Of-All!" he blurts out, the other hissing at his undisciplined exuberance.

Pride swells within me as I hear the honorific. The truth revealed at last, to my great satisfaction. My sons — the product of a union between myself and my dear mother, the matriarch of our clan. More are inside...I hear their deep voices, caught in raucous conversation.

I take a step forward, and they move aside, eager to let their legendary father greet the rest. Oh, yes — as I hear from new faces the tales that have been told of me. Tales recited by the Clan Mother welcome me home, myself the subject of stories circulated through the whole mountain! Whether conjured from the depths of Mother's imagination, or those that her kobold spies relayed to her from the far places of the world, they entrance my children. Now I stand, with reluctance, at the centre. I see that I've been thrown into the forefront. The heart of a crowd of six (no...seven!) of my progeny.

By the ancestors, I muse as I witness them gather, Mother was bountiful!

"Father-Of-All! Welcome home."

My serving-drakes fall by the wayside, forgotten, as I bask in admiration.

"Greatwing! Welcome!"

"We are honoured to receive you."

"Father...you are more than we ever imagined."

I let that last one simmer for a moment, before moving through the crowd. My heart pounds. My loins tingle. I am surrounded by my children. Seeds I never expected to sow. And they adore me!

Was this what I could hope enjoy if I didn't race for the skies like a wild creature?

Perhaps Mother was right...in some ways at least...

* * *

Celebration captured the mood of the clan. The halls of ancient stone echo with the delight of dragons, male and female alike. Numerous lesser drakes flit to-and-fro, serving drink and meats roasted by my proud sons blasting their breath on a spit in the dead centre of the hall. I sit at the head of a long table, toasting my brethren...my children...

Who honour me in return.

"Father-Of-All!" Horns of hard ale slosh their contents: dwarf-brew, centuries old, dredged from barrels deep in the cavernous storerooms of this fortress.

I down a gallon of the drink. It runs down my neck and splashes on my chest, reflecting light from mounted fires surrounding the hall in the droplets. I groan, and look down. Between my legs I feel a wet sensation growing. My naked body relaxes against the seat, decorated like a throne. Meeting the eyes of the small dragon tending to my exposed shaft, serpentine tongue darting and circling around my length, I sense a growing urge to dominate. To conquer my own kind. This is new. Flying with my two attendants did not garner such feelings, and so strong they are. It's intoxicating. I watch the small male do his best to please me, averting his gaze from mine when his task is as yet unfulfilled.

Glancing around the table, amongst my sons, I see a similar sight. Beneath its massive oaken surface, occupying themselves between the broad thighs of my progeny, many lesser drakes suck and lick and caress the cocks and balls of their more powerful brethren. They enjoy it, my sons, sharing looks with their father that speak at great volume.

Several more tables are dotted around the hall, and I notice someone walking towards me at a brisk pace. It's Alrax, freshly washed and clothed. His eyes plead with me, for soon I see the cause of his concern. A muscled male approaches, quickly catching Alrax. He yelps, and speaks to me deferentially:

"Kerann—F-F-Father-Of-All," he corrects himself in the presence of others, "I do not wish to—"

"Silence!" I raise my hand, claws glimmering menacingly in the torch-light. The male behind Alrax sneaks a hand underneath his tail, and grabs himself a handful of blue-scaled rear. Alrax is cowed. Is this how Father must've felt, all those years ago? Or Mother? How it feels to command others...

I cannot maintain my composure any longer. The distraction of my many children calling me to act in a manner appropriate force my hand. I scowl, and look at the weakling who'd accompanied me so far and wide. Light, slender, short. Nothing compared to the strong clutch I'd sowed.

Gyvnic has encountered a similar conflict. He arrives, his head bowed, knowing how to address his better. "Father-Of-All," he says, "I ask your permission to leave. As does my brood-brother Alrax."

"No."

For a split second they look at me with shock, before retaining their grace in the presence of their lord.

"No," I say again, "you stay." The others demand I support them. Strong drakes, many who had grown up in awe of my deeds as relayed by Mother. I should not disappoint them. They see an alpha, a king — I will grant them that.

"The strong rule over the weak," the words flow naturally, as echoes of my great ancestors emerge from my stern voice, "you must convince the strong you can serve them, as you have served me."

I clench my rear as I feel the male servicing me improve in his attempts. Distractions aplenty, I do my best to ignore the mounting pleasure. The wet, sopping sounds of the lesser male sucking me as if starving are audible to many, but they don't care. They have their own toys.

I give Alrax and Gyvnic orders to fall to their knees and start pleasuring their greater kin. Their obedience, without another word of protest, makes me think. I detect the vice of command growing stronger; the whisper that encourages me to give in, to adopt my role as greater than the others. It tingles in the corner of my mind, yet I am too preoccupied with thoughts of a different nature. The slavish devotion of the male between my legs bring forth pleasant memories. This pleasure I want more of. But not here. Not from this male.

This is not my place. Not among the boisterous, crowded feast hall. I give in to my wandering imagination. Pulling out and leaving the submissive clan-drake without a sordid meal I stretch my wings, drawing eyes from around the room. My erection hangs proudly, slick with saliva.

I want pleasure. Not among these dragons. I seek the fine decoration of royal quarters, the comforting bed that beckons me...and...

...and...

Her.

I leave the festivities. Mother is nowhere to be seen. I want her...I need her. I crave her. Whatever is in the air has caught me by surprise — rich, luscious scents of sex and seduction. The crowd ignores my departure, delving once more into debauchery. I am scenery at this point. My mark of fatherhood forgotten in the carnal fires. No-one bids me farewell.

Entering one of the adjacent corridors, I start walking. No sooner have I done so that I see someone approach. A female of my clutch. More impressive than the thin wisps I call sister. She smiles as she notices me, her body muscled and rounded. The corner of my mouth curls upwards in a slight grin while I nod to her. We pass, and part ways, no words exchanged. I seek another...

* * *

The draughty hallways spread heat throughout the lair. I feel a small gust carry the sounds of celebration all the way from the clan gathering. Tempted to return by the scent of good food — my stomach unfilled — I keep going. My feet beat a rhythm on the stone floor, breaking the silence alongside the crackle of burning braziers.

Mother's chambers come into view. My shaft stiffens, shedding the lingering delight of the male servant's tongue. It grows hard, and heavy. As I step closer my balls ache, the large orbs bouncing between my thighs. The need burns. Captured...ensnared by her presence...I cannot help but approach...

Her voice is the first thing I notice. Light, cheery; as if perpetually happy. Murmurs and moans emerge from the entrance to her chambers. As my claws scratch the bare rock I crane my head around.

"Yessss..." her voice descends into a hiss. Mother-Of-All. My sweet mother — darling on the one hand, domineering on the other — reclines in her luxurious bed. A female attendant crawls between her broad thighs, meting out pleasure with her mouth. Golden bracelets and anklets jingle amid a silken sea. Mother's adornment was always extravagant, but as I see her now she is nothing less than spectacular. I don't choose to don a single shred of cloth these days, but something about what she wears traps me. I cannot tear my eyes away from her.

The ripe lesser female eagerly licks around her treasure, summoning powerful moans from Mother. She writhes about the bed, twisting the sheets into a dishevelled mess. Licking my lips, I keep myself hidden. Alas, it is not enough.

Her gaze pierces the murk of my shadowy silhouette. She knows exactly who it is.

"Kerann," she whispers, loud enough for the name to carry its way to me. I gulp.

The small female follows her line-of-sight to me, emerging from the entrance. She yelps as she see the Clan Mother's chief son.

My interruption is unwelcome in parts, as on Mother's face a disappointed expression forms. She sits up, gathering herself and her tussled clothes. Dismissing the attendant, she focuses her attention on my presence, standing and sauntering slowly towards me. I remain still. My heart flutters.

"M-Mother," I bleat. She quickens her pace, arriving in front of me with swift grace.

"Kerann, my child," she coos, and reaches out, pulling me into a warm embrace. "You have honoured me with this return."

"I wanted to come home. To visit." Visit you.

"Wonderful, child. You can remain as long as you like. I know you have a penchant for the freedom of the skies, I will not deny you that by commanding you stay."

Appreciation surges within me. I rub my hands over her shoulders, then down the ridges of her spine, reaching the crest of her plump rear. A loud thwack shatters my dreamlike state. Mother's tail flicks wildly, cutting grooves into the floor with its sharp spines. I rest my snout against her neck, jewellery prodding my scales. The mounds on her chest squash against me, threatening to consume me. Only the silk loincloth suspended by silver and emerald chains prevent my maleness from touching her soft nether-lips, having been draped back over once she'd dismissed her servant. How I wish she wore nothing!

And she...she explores me as well. Her smooth palms grace my abdomen, dallying dangerously near my exposed shaft, but pulling away at the last second to tease me. I groan. Her fingers dig deep furrows in my bulk, roving up-and-down my torso. Every inch of her claws excite me. Warmth. Heat. Lust. Emotions build. We hold one another tight. I hear the jangling of her finery, my eyes closed. I drink in the moment. And I feel her do likewise.

Eventually, she speaks: "Kerann, you are as fine a dragon as ever." My chest puffs out as my heart fills with pride. "A true testament to your father and I."

Father. Now there was a dragon who ruled the skies. I recall old memories. Scant images of my forebear. Lost to time now, only the blurriest remain. But if Mother thinks me a suitable heir, who am I to complain?

"Mother, our children..."

"Yes Kerann, you proved true to your abilities. A clutch of sixteen: ten males, six females. Inheriting your prowess, though not many can compare to the original." She smirked. I hear a clucking sound in my left ear. Mother's stifled laughter.

"I can't believe it's been so many years since—"

"And I have not lain with a male since you left."

I cease my embrace, and pull back. "Is that true?"

My mother growls, a spurt of flame shooting from her nostrils. "Much to my annoyance — yes. Though I expected visits earlier!"

"I'm sorry." A pit forms in my stomach. Having saved herself for the day I would return, my distance from Mother now seemed petty. I wanted to fly, she wanted to keep us strong. Seems so...imbalanced in hindsight.

She continues: "but I tended myself as best I could. Each night I close my eyes, and see you, my true son, atop me. The others see it as a violation of the blood-bond of family, but they silenced themselves once our children hatched. Hah! It seems restoring our clan to its former strength with your seed was more important than the fact it was yours to begin with."

"So it seems, Mother." I walk further into her chamber. Little has changed since I saw it all those years ago. Then again, she'd already taken the best for her own during the lean times. Clan-drakes eke a living from raiding farmlands to the South, while she plucks whatever she desires from their measly mitts. I cared about that once, when I was away. Strange now that those feelings have disappeared in her presence. We are bound. Inexorably. There's no escaping that.

"My son, you are quiet." Mother follows me, hips swaying, silk gown swishing. Music to my ears! I glance over my shoulder, and see almost everything. Her crimson scales cover all except a sliver of underbelly, guarded by gold plate. Two perfect breasts burgeon forth from her chest, huge mounds of womanly flesh, nipples hidden by solid metallic clasps. "Too quiet," she murrs. Her hips shift, and she rests her voluptuous weight on one leg. The slow tug of pinched fingers on string draw back the curtain of her purple loincloth, unveiling her pierced lips.