[b][u][center]The Curse of Two-Legged Understanding
Part 4
For Lightsun168
By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b]








Meero stood in front of the breeding post with his cheeks burning and his cock throbbing. For all that he stared at the messy hole in the middle of the post with distaste, his shaft bobbed up and down, slapping up against his belly before falling down and smearing the tip against the oozing end. It was nasty, slimy, [i]wrong,[/i] and yet, he was still standing there, still staring at the oozing hole, and still imagining how it was going to feel when he finally slammed his shaft into the opening. 

“You have your fun, I’ll keep an eye out,” Malcolm said, the boar leaning over the doorway that led out of the stable. “Just…get started. I’ll make sure that nobody sees what you’re doing.”

It was a scant comfort that nobody would see him humping the post. The idea that he was going to do it in the first place still sent a shiver down his spine. 

[i]Why? Why do this…thing?[/i]

Because he was throbbing, because his balls needed the chance to get emptied, and because his other choice was to make use of the boar that was trying to ‘help’ him. He was not allowed to leave the stables to meet with the archmage until he had been ‘drained,’ and that meant that his choices were to let the too-enthusiastic boar work on him, or he had to do something for himself. 

And the post…well, the post would be more effective than his hand…

Meero shivered as he ground his hips forward again, feeling the still-warm slime oozing out from inside. The stallion had left quite a mess inside the breeding post; it would be more than slick enough for him, particularly since he was nearly the thickness of the horse, but…

[i]This…this is humiliating…[/i]

“Go on. It’s not that hard; beasts can figure it out,” Malcolm hissed. 

That was the problem. [i]Beasts[/i] did this, and while he didn’t want to be a two-legged person, there was something wrong with the way that they referred to beasts compared to how he thought of them. 

[i]They think that anything that goes on all-fours is less intelligent, less capable, less ‘real’ than they are. Because their beasts can’t think, they believe that anything that goes on all fours is just as lowly, just as stupid. But they don’t understand what dragons are like, or the others like us…[/i]

For him, beasts were creatures that lived free, that were attached to nature rather than trying to dominate it. Beasts were those that did not defy the natural order of things, nor did they try and command it. They made their wishes known and lived in accordance with nature. Dragons were slightly different, as they could command the natural world if they really needed to, but that was rare. They were not often so selfish. 

And yet…here he was, about to use something that a dumb beast had used, and in the same way.

[i]Just…hopefully once is enough…[/i]

Meero knew that it wouldn’t be, but he had to think something to sell the lie to himself. 

He lined his cock up with the dripping hole, rubbing it up and down against the fake pucker that was cut crudely into the post. It oozed the last of the stallion’s seed over his cock, making it slick and slimy. Rolling his hips forward, he ground against it, feeling it resisting his cock at first. Just a little pressure, and his cock slid up, almost going up and over the post. He rolled his hips back, lined up a second time, and – 

POP! SQUELCH!

His breath caught in his throat at the messy mass of cum still inside the post. It was so much more than he’d expected, and it soaked over his shaft almost instantly. His eyes rolled back in raw embarrassment as he realized how his cock was probably soaked with stallion seed now, but at the same time, his hips bucked forward further, his cock slamming through the hole and the knot grinding against the base. His breath caught in his throat as he finally hilted with it and – 

And realized how good it felt. It was tighter, wetter, slicker than his hand by far, and while it wasn’t quite the same as jamming his dick into some other dragon like he was used to, it was…it was still hotter than he imagined. 

His hips started bucking on their own, his eyes rolling back as he started to ‘breed’ the post. Hump, hump, hump, his balls slapping against the bottom of the padded post and his cock thrusting as deep into it as he could manage. Might not have been as long as a horse, but even before his knot, he was just about as wide. If he could get his knot in, he might actually split the post from how good it felt; he was already throbbing hard, his breath catching as he imagined ramming his knot in and breaking a hole that a stallion couldn’t shatter. 

Throb. Pulse. Throb. Pulse. 

His balls pulled up a bit at that, shooting pre-cum further into the post and leaving him whimpering as he bucked harder, faster. His body was taking control away from him, making it impossible for him to think straight as he kept bottoming out inside of the post. In, out, in, out, faster and faster, his shoulders hunching as he leaned forward and grabbed hold of it. His arms weren’t moving quite the way that they had when he had forelegs instead, but they remembered how to grab a mate, and they grabbed hold of the post in the same way. 

“Ah…ah…ah…”

“…Holy shit…”

Malcolm was watching him just as much as the doorway. He wanted to shout at the boar to stay focused, but – 

Hump. 

Hump. 

Hump.

His eyes were rolled back in their sockets, his mouth hanging open and his tongue lolling out. He couldn’t stop; he didn’t want to stop. Felt too good, the hole sucking around his shaft every time that he bottomed out, pulling him in again, making him fuck the tube harder, harder, and harder still.  

In. Out. In. Out. He moaned, huffing and growling like the beast in rut that he felt he was. The world faded around him, all his thoughts going right down to his cock and balls and the slowly-rising feeling that he had from the latter. He was drooling down his chest, over the breeding post, and he couldn’t give less of a care. All that mattered was blowing his load. All that mattered was filling the hole under him. 

“Ah…ah…ah…”

His claws curled tighter, pulling himself deeper and closer to the post. Every squelch as he bottomed out was another wet mess over his balls, but it just meant that he was scraping out the claim of the other male on this slutty little hole. Meero leaned forward more and more, his chest pressed against the post, his eyes closed tight as he humped, his tail rising up more and more as he kept slamming in, grinding his knot against the post-hole, and feeling the pressure of his orgasm right around the bend. He was so close, so desperately close, and – 

The soft pressure of a finger under his tail was all he felt before he went over the edge. He moaned, all but roaring as he rammed his cock in to the knot. The thick part of that hard bulge almost slid past the opening, so close to locking him in place, but it was just that little bit too big. Even as he ground forward, he couldn’t quite get it past. All he could do was hump and grind and growl as he just…kept…huffing…

“Nnngh…mmmph…NNGH!”

Then the finger in his ass – just one, just one, but still inside of him and rubbing [i]that[/i] spot – was getting him off again. A gentle touch, a gentle stroke was all it took to have him bucking forward again. More slime shot out of the other end of the breeding post as he was milked into it, little whimpers escaping him as he kept grinding away. He could feel that finger curling again, his asshole squeezing tighter and tighter around it, all but milking it like it was a cock inside of him – like he was the bottom – and he had to force himself to look over his shoulder to see what it was. 

It was Malcolm. Of course it was the boar. The two-legged soldier had one hand down his pants and the other under Meero’s tail and he – at least he had the grace to look a little embarrassed about what he was doing. He stopped thrusting his finger around, staring up at the dragon as Meero glared at him. 

“What – Nnngh – what the fuck do you – ah – what are you doing?” the blue dragon growled, trying to keep his hips from bucking any further and barely managing it. 

“I – I thought you could use – maybe some help or –”

“Nnngh…what about…watching the door?”

No, no, no, he didn’t want that finger to feel good. It was not the same as having another male in the wild, not the same as another dragon giving him a bit of tongue back there or having another drake occasionally frotting with him. This was a two-legged male, someone that didn’t even look at him as something other than a talking beast. Malcolm was probably someone that would have gotten hard for a mare winking in heat; someone like him was just safer. 

He tried to pull back, only for the post to suck on his cock as he pulled back. Meero barely managed to get his cock halfway out before his hips bucked forward and – 

“NNNGH!”

The dragon almost screamed at the top of his lungs as he buried his cock inside of the slimy post again. It was so messy, so hot, but so good at the same time; it felt right to bury his cock there, hotter than ever to…to fuck it, even if his cock was hyper-sensitive and almost felt painful from ramming in again so soon after cumming. Malcolm rubbed his hip.

“Don’t worry. You can keep humping it. You got time.”

“Nnngh…I don’t…don’t want to keep…NNNGH!”

Every time that he tried to pull out, the sheer size of his cock worked against him. If he’d been less endowed, he could have slid out with ease, but with more heft behind his shaft, he could barely get halfway out before the oversensitivity completely overrode his brain and made him thrust back in. That made all the slime inside squirt back against him, almost short-circuiting his thoughts completely, and only the pain that came with the pleasure kept him from going back to humping. 

For a while, at least. 

Then he’d try again, and once more, he’d barely be able to get halfway out of the post before the whole air-suction problem pulled his cock right back in, dragging it back to where it belonged, making him feel how good it was to hump. 

Hump. 

Hump. 

Hump like a beast. 

Hump like a rutting beast. 

He was shivering in seconds, his cock swelling and throbbing and his knot feeling like it was pulsing with every beat of his heart. His breath came in a rush every time that he took one, and he whimpered as he felt the raw pleasure that came from just…giving in…not thinking…being a little fucking – 

“MMPH!”

The second finger in his ass broke him out of it. He swatted sideways with his tail, hitting something – probably Malcolm from the shout – and sending it flying. The fingers popped out and Meero shoved himself back. The pain-pleasure hit him hard as he slumped away from the breeding post, landing flat on his ass and immediately cupping his crotch. Another whimper seized him, leaving him shivering from head to toe as his cock throbbed in raw frustration. 

“What was that for?” Malcolm groaned. 

“Nnngh…I didn’t…say…you could do…that,” Meero groaned, each word coming out as a growl as he lifted his head to the boar. “You…you just walked over…and did that…What if someone had…had come in?”

“You – I just – I wanted to help.”

“Your cock…was doing…the thinking…for you.”

“I – I just…”

Meero shook his head, gradually rolling onto all fours. The pressure of his cock on his mind – all those breeding, humping instincts – were almost enough to convince him to go back to the post or to take the fucking boar up on his earlier offer. The possibility of just…cumming his brains out for as long as possible to forget everything else was almost overwhelming. If he could just – 

No. 

No. 

[i]No.[/i]

He might not be one of the two-legged folk, but he was not a dumb beast that only thought with its cock. He was still a dragon, and dragons had some kind of self-control. As tempting as it was to just let himself go and rut away, he knew better than to give in. That would lead him to a deadly place. 

Abomination, they called him. Abomination he would become if all that mattered to him were his own lusts. He had to be better than that if he wanted to keep his head attached to his shoulders, and right at that moment, he wanted that very badly indeed. 

“I…am more…than a rutting beast,” he said. 

Malcolm nodded. 

“Now…I am clear-headed. I will not be doing…that. We will go.”

“But –”

“We. Will. Go.”

“Okay, okay!”

The boar hurried to his feet and out the door. Doubtlessly he was going to get his superior or something of the like. Meero shook his head, slowly sitting down on one of the stools scattered around the room. 

[i]I don’t know what he will do…I don’t know what the archmage will want…but I will not be the beast that they see me as. I am myself. I am Meero. I am…I am better than what they think I am.[/i]

He would not become the lustful abomination that the archmage and Malcolm – for very different reasons – wanted him to become. 

#

A half hour later, he was met with an escort of various soldiers. Malcolm was among them, dressed in the least metal and the most leather, while the ram from before – Finlay – wore full plate. They lined up, four soldiers on each side with Finlay in front, and the ram smirked as he walked down the middle of the stable. He kept one hand on a sheathed sword and the other on his spear that he used as a walking stick, his head tilted back with all the smugness in the world writ on his face. 

“Looks like you’re just as much of a rutting beast as the rest of the stallions in here. Use the breeding post for yourself, or did you bend over for one of them?” Finlay asked. 

“…”

“I asked you a question, abomination. Or did you forget how to speak already?”

“I used the post.”

“Heh. You smell like one of the breeding studs.”

“Better a stud than a mare.” He leaned in, sniffing the ram. “Or a ewe.”

Several soldiers bit off a chuckle at that. Finlay whipped his head around, but the whole squad had gone silent by the time that he glared at them. The ram shook his head, turning back to the dragon. 

“I am no ewe. I am a ram.”

“Anyone who has to say it…”

“Impudent beast.”

Finlay might have been an ass, but he was quick. Meero didn’t even see the spear come swinging ‘round before it hit him in the side of the head, sending him falling to the ground from the impact. He groaned, shaking his head and rubbing the point of impact. 

“You will watch your tongue.”

“Mmmph…quick.”

“I am a trained warrior. Don’t believe for a moment that I would hesitate to put you down; if you show any sign of danger, then you will not see the archmage. Nor will you see the spear before it punches through your chest.”

He could believe that, or at least, believe that Finlay would try. A moment ago, he would have thought the attempt doomed to failure, but that swing…

[i]He might be strong enough to do some damage. Maybe even enough damage to end me…[/i]

His head still hurt from the blow, which meant that his scales weren’t as strong as they had been. Stronger than mere skin and fur, admittedly, because he was still conscious and that blow should have knocked him out, but not invulnerable. The rest of his body might be stronger, particularly against something sharp instead of something blunt, but he was no longer so willing to test that. 

Shaking his head, Meero slowly pushed himself off the ground once more, dragging himself to his feet with a grunt and a huff. His wings swayed behind him as he found his balance, a few puffs of air moving as he settled them into a more comfortable position. 

“Do you understand me, abomination?” Finlay asked, tapping the side of his spear-tip against the dragon’s cheek. 

“…Yes.”

“Good. Now. This way.”

Taking the ram’s gesture to step ahead, Meero joined the formation of soldiers. Two took the lead, two stood at his side, and the remaining four – plus Finlay – took up the rear. They were ready to stab him in the back at the slightest provocation, and he wouldn’t put it past the ram to do it just for fun after their little exchange. 

He forced himself to walk; if nothing else, he had to present as good an image as he could when he finally met the archmage, and that meant not coming in with more bruises along his face or anywhere else. The dragon’s lack of clothing meant that there was nothing to hide them if he had to be punished further, and he doubted that the archmage would believe he’d been tortured instead of earning them. 

[i]Quiet. Focused. Compliant. For now.[/i]

Out of the stables and through the City again, though not out and into the City. No, they remained in the same towered, walled place where they’d first imprisoned him, and they even led him through the same stone corridors to the tower that he remembered waking up in. The walls still reeked of the same wards and magic from the night before, and he barely kept the grimace off his face as he remembered the drained feeling they’d brought before. 

The guards nudged him, seemingly trying to provoke some sort of reaction as they kept shoving him, changing directions, forcing him to stay precisely between them if he didn’t want to get injured. They were almost making a game of it, seeing if they could get him off-balance so that they could get some kind of revenge. He didn’t know why; he just knew that they were cruel enough to take it further if he gave them an excuse. 

So, he didn’t. 

He learned how they moved. He learned how to read their steps as they shifted toward a fake turn versus how they would turn for real. He got to know the difference in step-timing when they were going to stop all of a sudden and trip him up. He learned everything that could be used as a tell to avoid getting in trouble, and he learned it fast. 

They were only halfway to the tower’s peak when they stopped. Either they were too close to bother risking hurting him now, or they’d given up. Either way, he was happy. 

They climbed to the top of a large flight of stairs and stopped beside a stone door that was marked with endless blue, white, and black runes. They glowed in their own ethereal way, even the black runes, though they were more just shimmering darkly against the brighter door. Each one had its own power, and – surprisingly – Meero didn’t know all of them. Most, yes, perhaps even all but a few, but the fact that there were even those few that were unknown to him was a shock. 

Perhaps this archmage knew a little more magic than he had been giving the other man credit for. 

Finlay shouldered his way to the front and knocked on the door. He had rapped his knuckles but once before – 

“[i][b]Enter.[/b][/i]”

The word came with an undercurrent of power, one that the dragon felt and made him stand up a little straighter as a result. His eyes widened as he felt the tower shift ever so slightly, the stones themselves rearranging all around the doorway and then parting. It was not that the door opened, but more that the tower itself offered entrance. 

The rest of the soldiers didn’t seem to know what had happened. They probably didn’t; even Meero had barely noticed the level of power and command in such a subtle touch. He held his breath as he walked through, shaking his head slowly. 

[i]The power of the Binders is greater than I thought…[/i]

If the archmage could use his power to control the very stones of his tower like this, then that meant that there was enough power there to keep him cautious. Even with all the power that he would have in his normal form, unburdened and unmarked, Meero would have a hard time fighting back against someone like that. He would have to make sure that he timed his escape when the archmage was otherwise occupied. 

Inside the room, the light was dim. A single floating ball of stolen sunlight glimmered over the lion’s desk, shining daylight on the parchment under inspection. A large open space in the middle of the floor was marked with half-finished rune circles and other such things. Meero could guess what most of them were – summoning circles, fitted with binding spells to ensure that anything brought up wouldn’t have the chance to run wild. He could only imagine the sort of things that the archmage would be conversing with on a day-to-day basis, or what he would be doing with them. 

The lion finally looked up as the door closed. The archmage’s face was wreathed by both his mane and the blue-white robe that he wore. It was a fancy sort of attire, something very different to the practical armor of the soldiers. He had a staff leaning against the desk, too, one that was topped with another ball of light. He looked from the soldiers to the dragon, fixed him with a stare for a few seconds, then glanced back at Finlay. 

“There was no trouble bringing him here?”

“Not much,” the ram said, shaking his head. “Clumsy dragon nearly got himself thrown down the tower steps, though.”

“Hmm.”

“And he used the breeding post down in the –”

“I am aware,” the archmage said. 

“You – what?”

“Your men are there to keep an eye on him, but you are hardly the only ones keeping an eye on prisoners. I would not trust that to just one group,” the lion said, shaking his head as he pushed himself to his feet. “And I saw what he did. And I also saw that he was pushed to do it. I will not hold that against him right now.”

“…Archmage Fergus, no normal man would do that.”

“None?”

“…”

“You may go,” Fergus said, nodding at the door. “I will call you when it is time to take him away again.”

“Sir –”

“I said you may go.”

Meero remained where he was as the soldiers filed out around him. He didn’t look over his shoulder as they disappeared; he didn’t want to look attached or fearful, or even curious. If anything, he wanted to cultivate a slightly more detached appearance. The more that he looked like someone that didn’t have any attachments or anything to lose, the harder it would be for Fergus to threaten him. 

The door shut. The lion remained behind his desk for a moment before shaking his head. 

“He wants you dead,” Fergus said. 

“I know.”

“He’s not the only one.”

“I know.”

“You’re making my life very difficult, abomination. I wish that I hadn’t agreed to the meeting with Weaver, now; it would have been so much simpler if he had just failed and we could have integrated his people with mine. Instead…we have you. And a war that’s bubbling just below the surface.”

“War?” He blinked. “What war?”

“The Weavers and the Binders have been on the edge of one for decades,” Fergus said, shaking his head as he paced around his desk. “The only thing keeping it from boiling over was the idea that either the Weavers would disappear and fade away as the Binders’ magic got too powerful, too useful to ignore, or – on their side – that the people would grow to hate the more ‘restrictive’ use of the Binding magic we practice.”

“Ironic that his Weaving was what bound me into this shape…”

“And ironic that I could not do something like that myself; Binding the living is a very different skill to what he managed. And unfortunately, it inspired the rest of his people to keep fighting. Which means mine must do the same.”

The idea of the mages fighting through the wilds was enough to send a small shiver down his spine. The magic was already difficult to manage, and the flow of nature was in enough flux as it was. Having Weavers begging favors and Binders messing with the natural state of things even further was not going to make the world calm down. 

“But that is neither here nor there, abomination,” the lion said, stopping at the one window in the room and looking outside. “I was hoping that a night in the stables would settle you in one direction or another. To become more feral, and bestial, so that I could justify killing you, or to take you the other way…”

“Where you could kill me for being something possessed?”

“The thought [i]had[/i] crossed my mind,” Fergus admitted, the mage’s voice almost wistful as he sighed. “But no. It would have, at least temporarily, made others consider you as one of them. A strange one, admittedly, but one of them. And it would have settled the argument instead of making it rage up even higher.”

“You almost sound like you want me to live.”

“I have considered the implications. There are advantages to it, much as I believe that you are a walking abomination. There exists no beast in this world that has the mind to settle on its hind legs and walk about as one of us; it is only a matter of time until you go mad and harm someone, of that I’m sure.”

Meero didn’t have a response for that. The casual way that Fergus was talking about just…slaughtering him was hard to absorb. He wasn’t used to someone that was at once so blunt and so casual, and it was messing with him. 

“But…as I said, it is still hazy. You using the breeding post is a problem, but at the same time, you were encouraged. I am aware of Malcolm’s…proclivities toward the bestial. He has spent more time in that stable than is seemly, and I have no doubt that he has encouraged most of the beasts to use the breeding post while he’s watched. I don’t know what is going through that boar’s head, but I cannot deny that he’s one of the best stable-workers we’ve ever had. I just don’t want to think about why.”

“…”

“For now, I will put the decision whether to kill you further down the road.”

“Then what happens to me?”

“I will be putting you to work. And we shall see how long it takes for stress and strain to bring out the true you.” 

“You think that working me to the bone is going to make me more bestial?”

“Stress is one of the most reliable ways to cut through all the layers that we put on ourselves,” Fergus said, walking back to his desk. “Every mask, every disguise, every nicety that we wear is something that can be stripped away as our bodies and minds are put to the grindstone. The further that we push ourselves, the more of our true selves comes out. And for some, that will mean showing that they are genuinely as good as their mask presented them to be, while for others…”

“They show themselves as beasts.”

“Precisely.”

“Does our conversation mean anything?” Meero asked, crossing his arms. “Would a beast be able to talk to you like this?”

“Would a person need to empty their sac a dozen times or more to have a sane conversation? Would they become violent if they were touched in a way that was pleasurable but not what they wanted, instead of speaking like someone civilized?”

“…”

“I told you. I keep an eye on things. And I will continue to keep an eye on things going forward.”

The lion sat down. Meero didn’t know what to think; it had been bad enough to have an audience from Malcolm down in the stable, but to know that the archmage himself could open a spell and watch at any time made it so much worse. Malcolm, at least, didn’t have his life in his hands. Fergus did. 

“So, work. What kind of work?” he asked.

“Hard work. Mining work, specifically. There is an iron mine a week’s travel from here, and I will be sending you along with Captain Finlay and his men to it. You will be given the tools to work there, though obviously less than the average person; your dragon strength will make up the difference.”

“You’re throwing me in the mines. Hard labor. To see if I should be killed because I can’t control myself?”

“It seems as apt a test as any to me,” Fergus said, shrugging. “And it will at least make sure that you are useful to the realm.”

“…Finlay wants me dead. What’s to keep him from killing me on the road?”

“Your good behavior, and my command to him to not do so. He is a zealous man…but a man, nonetheless. I expect him to rise above his baser instincts, and so long as he does so, I do not think that you will be in danger.”

“You may be giving him too much credit…”

“We shall see. And as for you, abomination. I will be seeing to it that you are marked before you go. I cannot have you running into the wilds on a lucky break, should the soldiers give you an opening. Tomorrow, before you leave, I will have an enchanted rune to put on you, one that even non-Binders can use to track you.”

His heart dropped out of his chest. So much for that forming plan. 

“And perhaps something to add to that stress. A ring that keeps you from orgasming. That might be an interesting stress-test for you.”

“You – why?!”

“To see how much you can take.”

“You’re setting me up to fail.”

“If so little will make you fail, then you’ve already lost. Prove me wrong.”











[b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]

Summary: A bit of a dialogue-heavy chapter in the second half, but with plenty of fun sexy bits in the first half with a breeding post that really needs a good fucking. 

Tags: M/solo, M/M, Dragon, Boar, Breeding Post, Leftover Cum, Humiliation, Orgasm, Cum, Hypersensitivity, Toy Fucking, Stables, Fingering, Forced Pleasure, Corruption, Series, Dialogue, Fighting,