It’s a dragonette, flying along.
And when she gets within forty feet or so I can see she’s a professor. That’s what the white dot was, her white robes. I’ve never seen her before but she’s definitely wearing the Institute’s robe and cloak.
As I stay hidden out of sight against the wall and watch her approach I notice her robe is cut short and that her toe claws are painted pink. She also has these two boss black horns on her scaly green head, which must be seven feet long and curve up into these three-pronged tips, which look way legit.
But what really catches my attention about this dragoness is her thick green tail, which looks to be twice as thick as a normal dragon tail. And I really don’t know how to say this, except to say that this dragoness is seriously luscious. And juicy. Maybe that’s a terrible thing to say because I’m dying and all, but there it is. This is one seriously juicy-looking dragonette.
So that’s what the powerful oily odor is.
Her musk, her mating scent. She’s in heat. This is the time of her Mating Cycle when she’s most fertile.
You don’t need to be a genius to know this, because you can just feel it with every molecule in your body.
I’ve never smelled anything like it. The chicks at WarWings have their Mating Cycles, but they’re not old enough to exude a scent like this. This thick musk can only come from an ovowomb that knows exactly what it wants and how to get it.
I realize my tongue is drooping out of my beak, and I’m panting.
Now this is a monstrous humiliation. To be dying, and yet to be so amped up with luscious feeling because of this dragoness’s powerful odor. There’s no dignity in it, that’s for sure. And if I had enough TURBO FIEND juice to move my tail it would slink between my hind legs, because of how skeezy I’m feeling right now.
Now this glorious chick with the pink toe claws is maybe thirty feet away from where I’m lying slumped against the crook in the wall, and she is lazily flapping her wings and flying in my direction. But this dragoness doesn’t see me here on account of how I’m slumped over so low to the ground. I can’t keep my eyes off her massive green tail. The sight of it arched high over her scaly head is intoxicating.
Anyway, a thick tail like that coupled with her potent raw mating musk is a deadly combo, let me tell you. I feel a delirious bolt of lust surge through my haunches, and dark clouds appear on the horizon of my mind.
If I wasn’t so excited, I’d be terrified.
[ 33 ]
THE MYSTERIOUS DRAGONESS WITH THE THICK TAIL
I squirm out from my hiding place and slither on my belly like a snake out to the middle of the corridor.
Well this dragonette abruptly comes to a halt and hovers there flapping her wings and treading air, looking down at me with surprise.
“Hey,” I whisper from down on the floor, as I eyeball her thick tail swishing around behind her. “You smellth goodth. Where here Dr. Terrible is?”
Because my BIOCON LEVS have run dry, my speech and cognition functions have melted.
“You talking about the Dr. Terrible?” she purrs.
I notice how the chick’s voice echoes off the stone walls. Behind this dragonette I see what I think are a pair of yellow eyeballs looking at me from down the hall, but I can’t be sure. Mainly because it’s hard for me to focus on anything with this dragonette’s fine giant tail waving around like that. And it makes my green scales pucker up and I feel kind of funny, like there are little lightning bolts shooting up and down my tail.
Now there’s really no other way for me to put this, except to say I’m overcome by a super-strong and specific desire to rub scales with this chick. Like I might go insane if I don’t rub scales with this dragoness, is the way I’m feeling.
“Just oneth Dr. Terrible,” I whisper. At that moment I start coughing like a bastard and blood spurts out my nostrils onto the floor. It’s embarrassing, to be spurting up blood like this. To completely lose control of my body in front of this chick.
Uh-oh. Here we go.
So this is what dying feels like.
“Thorry,” I whisper, looking up at the dragoness, who is still hovering above me in midair with her huge tail whipping back and forth.
I start coughing again and more blood spurts out my nostrils. And the blood seems to be gushing more freely, like a dam has broken.
“Really thorry,” I whisper. Normally, saying sorry would be a death sentence but since I’m already dying, it doesn’t matter. Now my left wing convulses and my wing bends against the floor and pushes me forward into the pool of my own blood.
“I dying fasth,” I whisper.
The way this dragonette’s enormous tail is wagging back and forth like that, I feel like I’m being hypnotized. And her thick oily funky scent shooting up my nasal passages sends a strong lust rippling through my haunches and makes my toe claws shudder. I can’t really explain it but I suddenly have the strongest desire for this older dragonette to lay my eggs. I want to mate with her. I can practically feel her ovowomb throbbing here in the corridor.
“No, I don’t imagine there is more than one Dr. Terrible,” she purrs. “They certainly broke the mold when they made that old dragon!”
Her wings are still flapping and she’s hovering here in front of me, treading air.
I force myself to look away from the tail and instead to peer into this dragonette’s hooded yellow eyes.
“He’th my grandpath. Where he? I need’th talkth wid that bastardth.” And then I add: “Niceth tail. Yours. Ith thick. Yourth tailth thick.”
She makes a little excited screeching sound in the back of her throat and then flaps her wings and flies in closer and peers down at me.
“I knew there was something familiar ’bout you,” she purrs.
She reaches out and puts a long black claw under my beak and raises it so she can see me better. Now our faces are just inches apart, and in the dim corridor light I can see each individual green scale around her eyes quite clearly and they are luscious to be sure.
Bar none, this is the most gorgeous dragonette I’ve ever crossed paths with.
At that moment, I cough up more blood out of my beak.
“You wannath lay my eggsth?” I whisper.
She huffs softly. “Why I shoulda seen it sooner. You’re the spitting image of your granddaddy. You’re a Terrible, ain’tcha?”
“Yesth ma’am.”
“?’Course you are. Why you couldn’t hide the fact that you’re a Terrible no more than a monkey could talk with its butt. You Terribles is something special, I’ll say. You goin’ to grow up and conquer your own galaxy and rule over it with an iron talon, like your granddaddy did?”
“Yesth ma’am. I aimth to anyway.”
Now I’m struck by how yellow this dragoness’s eyes are, how piercing they are. I sense a power there that I don’t understand. Plus I can feel myself blushing just slightly. Or maybe it’s just my blood has stopped circulating and I’m dying.