The sprawl of Selene City twinkled in the artificial night as Joey watched it from his perch on top of the Capitol. It had not been long since he took an oath to serve and protect the people of Selene City as its newest defender, Squall, and yet every night he found himself drawn here, to the shoulders of the bronze statue of the goddess Tyche, just watching as the city’s thrumming pulse slowed in the night.

Selene City was one of the first major settlements humanity had created on the moon, surrounded by a large reinforced dome that helped maintain livable conditions on the surface. Joey had known this, before his move, but he had never truly appreciated the astounding level of engineering that was required to build the damn thing until he was actually living under it.

Terraforming initiatives in the centuries since the successful colonization of the moon had resulted in a self-sustaining and breathable atmosphere outside of the protective casings of the lunar cities. But it wasn’t possible to replicate Earth’s atmospheric pressure across the lunar surface.

Joey had also taken the concept of night and day for granted until he came to Selene City. He knew that one Moon "day" was 28 Earth days long, with 14 Earth days of light and 14 Earth days of dark, but it had never occurred to him how that might affect a person’s circadian rhythm. Luckily, he didn’t have to deal with it, as the domes ensured that each city had a proper 24-hour day-night cycle.

What the people of the Artemisian Commonwealth had accomplished since the early days of the lunar colonization was truly astounding. Joey felt more than a little bit proud that he was helping to protect that legacy. It felt like exactly the kind of change that he wanted to bring about. A better, safer world. And he hoped that once he had learned all he could, he could bring his experiences planet-side and build there something similar to the Commonwealth.

For now, though, Joey understood that he was far too immature. He hadn’t learned enough, hadn’t experienced enough. Even though he had Vextril, Seladonious and Arrataz to offer him wisdom whenever he needed it, he didn’t want to rely on the dragons. They also had a certain narcissistic streak that made it difficult to take their advice seriously, even when proferred sincerely.

In fact, for the past ten minutes, Joey had been actively tuning out Arrataz, who had launched into a rambling critique of his "thrusting technique." To give matters worse, Arrataz was giving him pointers on how to angle his hips and how to hold his partner in order to bring the greatest pleasure that he could to his bedmate.

Joey knew that it was done out of love, but goddamn was it fucking embarrassing. Castor had asked him about what the dragons talked to him about and the thought of sharing the utterly filthy things that were said with disturbing regularity in his mind mortified him.

Before he could spend much more time inadvertently listening to Arrataz drone on about the benefits of practicing with silicone toys, Joey heard a beep from the communicator on his wrist. It was, honestly, quite an ugly and unwieldy device. But it was more convenient than bringing his phone with him everywhere just to get communications from the Hall.

The communicator was apparently a first-generation device, and Joey could only hope that it would get better over time. "Squall here," he said, pushing the button to answer the call, "What’s up?"

"O-Oh, nothing major," said the somewhat-squeaky female voice on the other side of the line. "It’s just that the silent alarm at the Plutarch National on High Street was tripped and you’re the closest… I don’t really have intel but it doesn’t look like it’s a major incident. Would you mind checking it out?"

Joey smiled. He’d met the voice on the other end of the communicator once, when he was being inducted into the Hall. Her codename was Sibyl, but he’d learned that her real name was Jasmine. It was hard to find a word to describe the girl other than squirrely but Joey found her power truly fascinating.

Sibyl could hook into the surveillance infrastructure of the city and literally watch everything that was transpiring in its public spaces. It stood to reason that she was the "dispatcher" for the Hall. Joey liked her. Not in any romantic sense. Gods forbid.

"I’ll take a look. Thanks, Sibyl," said Joey.

"U-Um. N-No! Thank you!" stammered Sibyl. "O-Okay, bye now," she said. The communicator beeped to indicate that the call had been dropped. Joey thought that the way Sibyl got flustered around people was just adorable.

"She reminds me of the antelopes that I used to hunt on the Serengeti… So easily spooked and yet so cute." Vextril lingered on the last syllable for a moment longer than made Joey comfortable. He shuddered. He could almost hear the dragon smacking his chops. "They were also quite… delectable. A little gamey, but I liked that…"

"Pervert," murmured Seladonious as Joey leaned off the statue of Tyche and concentrated. It was possible to fly in his human form solely using magic, at least from what the dragons had told Joey, but he hadn’t been able to quite master that aspect of his powers yet. For now, he relied on his wings. Luckily for him, apparently he was the heir of the Dragon Force most adept at partial transformations.

Joey sighed as the pressure on his upper body eased away. He flexed his wings and stretched them out. They were enormous. But as he had found out the hard way, they weren’t really meant for powered flight. For one thing, they were too big and unwieldy to flap like that.

Which was why Joey hung out at one of the tallest buildings in the city. It was just much easier to get the air that he needed to fly from up here.

Pushing off the statue of Tyche, Joey simultaneously stretched his wings taut and summoned his magic to push air up into the underside of his wings. He flapped once and pushed himself a little bit higher up before angling toward the bank that Sibyl had told him about.

---

Joey landed gingerly on the roof of Plutarch National on High Street. It was one of the few buildings in Selene City that took after the high rises of the early 21st century and yet somehow still maintained a look reminiscent of classical Greece. He perched on one of the corners of the parapet overlooking the front of the building.

From his vantage point, Joey could see no outward signs of foul play. But it didn’t mean that there weren’t any. It was possible that this was all just a false alarm, but there was no reason to assume that. It was one thing to think optimistically, and another to be wilfully naïve.

Joey knew he had nothing more to gain by continuing to watch from above. He retracted his wings and walked off the side of the building. He called upon the nascent magic inside of him and conjured a cushion of air to slow his descent.

It was one of the few tricks that he’d learned on his own, and Joey was quite proud of it. The dragons, on the other hand, were baffled. They were of the opinion that if he could figure out the principles of magic necessary for controlled descent, he should have been able to figure out flight. As far as Joey was concerned, a controlled fall was an entirely different beast from flight.

Needless to say, right before walking into a potentially volatile situation was probably not the time to be thinking about things he couldn’t yet do.

Taking care to be quiet, Joey made his way out to the front of the building. He wouldn’t have noticed the sudden drop in temperature close to the doors of the bank if not for his enhanced sensitivity. He could almost feel the dragons perk up in his head, as if curious to see what was behind the cold.

Joey’s thoughts were cast back to the student he’d fought on the day his powers manifested, Rime. But Rime couldn’t possibly be behind the tripping of the alarm in the bank. Rime was still in Hall custody.

The glass doors of the bank were covered in frosty spirals, obscuring the view into the interior. Joey could make out blobs of light and dark, but that was about it. He had nearly reached out for the metal handle of the door when he realized what he was doing and snatched his fingers back.

The metal was incredibly cold. Even though Joey hadn’t touched the handle, he could feel the temperature at his fingertips. Mist curled around the metal, drifting down toward the ground. Considering how cold the door was, it was possible that the locking mechanism was stuck.

Closing his eyes, Joey concentrated. He held his arms out in front of him, palms facing toward the door. He called on the magic apportioned to him by the Dragon Force and took a deep breath. He opened his eyes. They briefly flashed white-hot, like lightning, and an expanding wave of concussive energy much like a thunderclap expanded from his open palms.

The frozen-shut doors shattered inward in a flurry of glass shards and diamond dust that scattered across the floor of the bank lobby. The interior of the building was so cold that every surface was covered in a thin layer of frost.

Joey was glad he had made haste to the bank. He didn’t think an average human could survive in these subzero temperatures for very long. His own suit only barely protected him. He could feel the chill creeping into his fingers. Only the power thrumming through his veins kept him warm. And even then, he doubted it would be enough.

Pushing the button on his communicator, Joey called Sibyl up. "Hey," he said, "this looks like the work of a super… I don’t have eyes on the perpetrator yet, but the temperature inside the building is probably not healthy."

Sibyl answered him. Her voice didn’t tremble, and she didn’t sound nearly as timid as she usually did. She seemed focused on the business at hand. "I can see that," she said, "the temperature reading from your suit is alarming. How are you holding up?"

"I’m doing okay," said Joey, making his way through the lobby up to the row of tellers. No one seemed to be behind the desks. "Do you know if there’s any staff in the bank right now?" he said. "I think my priority should be getting civilians out."

"That is correct," said Sibyl. "From what I can tell, SOP for Plutarch National dictates that at least three tellers and a manager be working during the evening hours. I can see four people are currently clocked in… Ah. There. Found them. They’re in the staff office and don’t appear to be doing too well."

Joey scanned his immediate vicinity for the staff office. He found it quickly and made his way over. "I’m trying to get eyes on the perp, but I can’t find them anywhere. Well, the cameras near the bank vault are frosted over, so that’s probably where they are. Get those civilians out, Squall, and sit tight. Help is on the way."

The door to the staff office was locked, but Joey had no problem kicking it down. He walked over to the staff and helped them to their feet. "Come on," he said, "we’re getting you out of here."

Joey shepherded the tellers out of the building. He couldn’t do anything to help them recover from the cold, so he stood with them until he saw the flashing lights of the ambulance down the street.

Forgetting what Sibyl had told him and eager to bring the criminal behind this attack to justice, Joey dashed back into the bank. Since Sibyl had said something about the bank vault, he asked one of the tellers for directions. It was a fairly straightforward walk, especially since all the security measures along the way had been disabled.

The thick door to the bank vault was wide open. The sight just beyond it, framed perfectly by the circular portal into the room beyond, was enough to make Joey stop in his tracks. The primitive, reptilian part of his hind brain short-circuited as his eyes drank in the slender legs and pert, round bottom of what he could only assume was the perpetrator.

"Frostling," hissed Vextril. Joey heard the disdain. He couldn’t quite understand it. But then again, he was probably biased. His cock, twitching to life in his suit, quite liked the sight.

Really, the only way to classify "Frostling," as Vextril had called the guy, was to call him a twink. Frostling had a slender, soft body. He moved with a lithe grace, a certain delicateness as he rifled through the vault’s safes, shattering their locks with but the touch of a finger.

Frostling was effete in his actions, but it was difficult to deny his manhood when it was practically dangling into the world for all to see. Frostling was wearing so little that he was basically naked. The ice-white thong that he wore blended into his pale, milky skin so well that Joey would have missed it if not for the fact that it was also so tight that it showed every contour of Frostling’s bulge.

"Stop what you’re doing!" Joey declared. He shook his head. Now was not the time to be thinking of sex. He had to focus. This wasn’t Cato, or one of the other friends with benefits he’d made since joining up with the Hall of Heroes. This was a criminal. And clearly, a powerful one at that.

"I’ll be done in a minute, darling," said Frostling. "Geez. It takes time to pull off a fabulous heist, you know? Besides… Shouldn’t you be more concerned about the poor shift manager over there by the door, hun?"

If Joey was being honest, he had barely even noticed the man lying slumped against the wall by the side of the vault. It was embarrassing, but he could scarcely be blamed for the tunnel-vision his raging libido had imposed on him.

Needless to say, as much as he hated to admit it, Frostling was right. The man was in a bad way. His hair was tipped with frost, his cheeks a faint shade of blue. Joey would not have been surprised if the shift manager was already suffering from severe hypothermia and frostbite, but at the very least the man seemed to still be breathing.

Swallowing down the urge to lock horns with the villain that was casually rifling through the materials in the vault, Joey made his way over to the shift manager. With a grunt, he lifted the man into his arms.

Speed was paramount. Not just because Frostling might get away, but because every second meant the difference between life and death. Joey didn’t give himself enough time to worry about tearing up the flooring of the bank as he sped out of the room, pumping his legs as hard as he could.

Joey was outside before he realized it, and it took him a moment to register the emergency responders asking him to put the man on a stretcher. He ran back in as soon as he knew that the man was being cared for. He didn’t have time to learn the man’s prognosis.

To his surprise, Joey returned to find Frostling still in the bank vault. He had moved down the wall of safes, and an assortment of bits and pieces, presumably from safes that had already been rifled through, was scattered across the floor.

"Back so quickly?" said Frostling, though he remained focused on what he was doing. "You’re a fast one, aren’t you? I don’t believe we’ve met before…" Frostling added, nonchalantly tossing what appeared to be a crumpled up wad of paper over his shoulder.

"You’re going to regret meeting me," said Joey. It wasn’t exactly his style, but it sounded cool, so he stuck with it. Truth be told, Joey wasn’t even sure what Frostling was after. From what he understood, currency in the commonwealth was largely digital, and in fact he couldn’t see a single bill of paper money in the vault at all.

"Oh am I, hun? Really?" said Frostling. He had a small smirk on his face as he turned to face Joey. Frostling put a fist on his hip. The motion drew Joey’s eyes and he spotted a pouch full of glittering gemstones and jewelry—likely Frostling’s target.

"Yeah. Because I’m going to bring you to justice!" said Joey. He was confident launching into that sentence, until halfway through Arrataz snorted with the first genuine amusement that he had ever detected from the dragon.

"Oh my god," said Frostling, gently tapping his forehead with his palm. "What the hell was that, honey? Do you think we’re in a comic book or something? Look, you’re cute. You look new. I’m going to let you off easy for now, okay? But next time, you seriously have to work on your dialogue."

"This isn’t—I’m not—We’re not—I didn’t ask for—" Joey pinched the bridge of his nose. He honestly had no idea how to respond to that. "You know what? Let’s just fight. But I’m warning you. I’m no pushover… Whatever you might think after that whole… You know what? Forget it. Just come at me!"

Frostling tutted his tongue three times in quick succession. "Oh honey," he said, his voice oozing with condescension. "I would destroy you before you even had the chance to blink. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather do this the easy way? Or, you know, the hard way?" said Frostling, nodding his head toward the straining erection in Joey’s suit.

"Shut up, Frostling!" said Joey. He called upon his magic. He could feel it coursing in his veins. Energy crackled under his skin, sparking between his fingers.

"Wait…" said Frostling, eyes wide and gleaming. He gasped, seemingly delighted. A wave of cold washed over Joey, shattering his concentration, sending his magic fleeing into the back of his mind. "You’re… You’re one of us! Heir to the Dragon Force, right?" said Frostling. As if to demonstrate his point, he shifted one of his hands into a scaled, draconic claw. "That is uh-maze-ing!"

Time seemed to slow as the dragons in the back of Joey’s mind spoke to him. "It is as we feared," said Seladonious. "This one is an Heir just like yourself. But unlike you his heart is impure and given, perhaps not to malice, but to selfishness."

"Thou must not listen to the Frostling’s honeyed words," insisted Vextril. He seemed more heated than the others. This seemed personal. "One of my favored Heirs fell prey to that enchanting rhetoric and abandoned his righteous path. One of these days I will get that bastard Barghild back for his theft."

"And if this Heir has been in commune with his Guides for as long as his mastery of his abilities shows, thou must be careful in thine engagements with thy enemy," said Arrataz. "Retreat is as wise a course of action as choosing the clash."

"So, what you’re saying is that I should probably back away from this one?" said Joey.

"We would never presume to dictate thine course," said Seladonious. "The choice is ultimately thine. We shall offer thee our strength and our counsel regardless of the path thou chooses unless thou seek’st to dive into darkness"

Joey sighed. Useless, all three of them.

But the choice to stay and test his mettle or flee to fight another day had already been made for Joey. With superhuman speed, Frostling launched at him from across the room, claws outstretched. Joey’s improved reflexes were all that saved him as he ducked out of the way.

Having missed, Frostling dropped to the ground and rolled into a stance. His teeth were bared in a wide grin, and his eyes gleamed with a ferocity that Joey would have never associated with his outward appearance. "Oh, I think I’m going to enjoy this. He’s going to enjoy this."

"He?" said Joey, dodging out of the way of five razor-sharp claws pointed right at his face. He parried a swipe from the other side and struck back, his own hands transforming into scaled fists that bounced off of Frostling’s impeccable defense.

Joey learned that he was faster than Frostling. Far faster. But Frostling was more skilled, could predict his moves before he made them. In terms of hand-to-hand combat, they were evenly matched. Even when Joey brought out the tail, Frostling deftly hopped over the sweep and parried the follow-up. "Don’t worry that pretty little head for now," said Frostling, with a savage grin.

Joey and Frostling matched blows for a few seconds. Even though he wasn’t yet as accustomed to his powers as Frostling, he was, surprisingly, holding his own. He was doing his best, but it was difficult. There were times when he had to yield to his instincts, the draconic heritage thrumming through his veins, when he felt that his reaction speed was lagging.

Through a combination of the training that he had been doing, the natural reflexes that he had been endowed with, and just sheer dumb luck, Joey was able to weather Frostling’s relentless assault.

It helped that the scales of Joey’s partial dragon transformations were stronger than Frostling’s claws. If not for that fact he was sure he would have been torn to shreds by now. As it stood, though, he couldn’t afford to cover every inch of his body with scales. He had to rely on his tail and the scales covering his arms and legs to shield the rest of his fleshy bits from Frostling’s attacks.

But even Joey knew that he couldn’t keep up the defense forever. Frostling was clearly more experienced, a better fighter. One way or another Joey was going to make a misstep and then it would all be over.

One thing that Joey did have over Frostling was that he had reinforcements on the way. He was sure that if he held on just a little bit longer he could get himself out of the mess that he had gotten himself into.

But then there was a sudden break in the action. Frostling hopped away from him, his talons drawing deep gouges across the concrete floor of the room just outside the bank vault. His teeth gleamed in the light, his eyes sparkling with playful malice. Something was wrong, but Joey didn’t know what.

"You put up a great fight, honey," said Frostling, sarcasm practically dripping from his lips, but with a tinge of genuine respect. "It’s a pity that we’re going to have to end it here… Now that I’ve won."

"What?" Joey sputtered. "Y-Y-You…" he stammered, his teeth suddenly chattering as he tried to get the words out. "Y-You haven’t w-w-w-won!" he managed to blurt out. He shivered. His legs trembled. His knees gave out from under him, forcing him to the ground. "W-w-what are you d-d-doing?" Joey demanded, weakly.

"Right now?" said Frostling, the corners of his lips turning upward in a smirk as he shifted out of his partial transformation. "I’m doing nothing… Just watching. I bet that fight really got you heated, didn’t it? But now that you’ve stopped, well… I hardly need to spell it out, do I, babe?"

Joey wrapped his arms around himself, struggling to focus on anything but the temperature in the room. Cold. Cold. Cold. It was the only word rattling around in his head as he watched the edges of his vision go blurry and dark.

The pain was sharpest in Joey’s extremities as the temperature forced him back into his fully-human form. It felt like sharp needles were being driven into his nose and under his fingernails. The cold air stung the insides of his lungs, too, and every breath felt like icicles scraping along his throat.

Joey slumped over onto the floor, shivering, as he pulled himself into a fetal position. He was starting to get sleepy. The dragons in the back of his head were screaming at him to get up, to use his magic to warm up, but he couldn’t even muster the concentration to reach out to his magic.

The dragons’ voices were also beginning to fade, melting into the static buzz in the back of Joey’s mind. All over the floor in front of him, he could see ice crystals beginning to form over the veneer of frost that already covered the ground.

"Do you like it?" said Frostling, leaning down next to Joey’s head. He brushed his fingers across the growing crystals, creating tracks on the floor. "I can make my own dry ice," Frostling giggled, as he brushed his freezing-cold fingers across Joey’s brow. "Now go to sleep little wyrmling, I promise you’ll be warm again soon enough…"

Joey struggled to stay awake. He was at least alert enough to know that you do not sleep when a villain tells you to sleep. But it was hard. Harder than he could have imagined. Sleep felt like such a good idea. His whole body wanted to just… drift off. Especially since Frostling had said something about being warm again if he just went to sleep.

It was cold. So, so cold. Surely it wouldn’t hurt… To just nap a little bit. His friends were coming… They wouldn’t take too long… Maybe when he woke up he would be warm again, just like Frostling had said…

---

The first thing Joey noticed upon waking up was the heat. The feeling of the ground on his bare feet was the second. The stone under his toes felt slightly damp, little surprise because the air was so humid every breath felt like sucking in lungfuls of soup.

Sweat trickled over Joey’s brow, down the side of his face, dripping from his chin. He was in some sort of cave system, but that was hardly the strangest thing about the place. All over the floor were scattered gold coins gleaming in the dim light. Those paled in comparison to the shining heap of precious metals and jewels piled high in the center of the room. A veritable hoard of treasure.

A strange, primitive part of Joey’s brain, one that he had never realized had existed, wanted nothing more than to scramble forward and shovel as much of the astounding wealth on display into his arms. But the strange, dark desire was unwelcome. He forced it down with a grimace.

Warily, Joey reached out to his draconic Guides. For once, Vextril was silent, exuding an aura of intense concentration. He seemed to be struggling to restrain himself, likely afflicted by the same desire that Joey felt in the pit of his stomach.

Seladonious and Arrataz were both silent, but Joey could sense their disdain even if distantly. It wasn’t directed at anyone in particular, but from what he could tell both dragons were also paying close attention to the treasure.

Waking up was a slow process. Joey felt like he had been sleeping for days, if not weeks. Despite the heat of the environment, his arms and legs felt cool and numb until the blood started pumping through them again.

As he was reaching up to scratch an itch on his nose, Joey realized that he couldn’t. He hadn’t noticed at first, taken in by the grand display of wealth glimmering in front of his eyes, but it was hard to miss now. He was bound between two pillars. He was naked, too, but modesty was one of the things that Joey had learned to give up in order to stay sane past the dragons’ teasing.

Joey was spread between the pillars by chains made of a strange dark metal attached to thick steel manacles at his wrists and ankles. In the dim light it was easy to see the glyphs carved into the metal. "Thou art correct," murmured Seladonious. "They are, as you suspected, glyphs of binding and permanence."

Before Joey could ask about their options, a tall man, with bronzed skin, broad shoulders, and muscles that would have been right at home on the marble sculpture of any Greek God, walked into his field of vision.

The man was wearing only a pair of form-fitting shorts that left his muscular torso and powerful legs bare. Every motion, every step, was accentuated by the rippling of the powerful musculature that accompanied it.

The man made his way to the pile of gold and picked something out of the glittering heap. At first it appeared to be a circlet made of solid gold, but Joey quickly realized that it was a collar.

A cool breeze wafting across the room offered Joey a brief reprieve from the oppressive heat of the cave. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as Frostling came up to stand beside the tall man. "Oooh," said Frostling, the quaver of his voice failing to conceal his excitement, "Is that for him?"

The tall man scoffed. "This meager thing?" he said, in a deep, sexy, baritone voice that sent chills right down Joey’s spine to the tip of his cock. "Hardly…" The man turned to face Frostling, his fingers deftly snapping the collar open. "This one is for you, dear Frostling."

Frostling laughed. For whatever reason, the other Heir clearly thought that the man was joking. From where Joey was standing, he had heard no hint of humor in the man’s voice. "Seriously?" he said, a small smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as he rolled his eyes. "Rexxy, you know that your trinkets don’t work on me."

"Is that so?" said the tall man. His tone was even, but the way that he lingered on the final syllable of those three simple words sent a shock of instinctive fear straight through Joey. Which was saying something. Dragons were predators, not prey. And yet this man made him feel like an antelope stalked by a lioness. Somehow, he doubted that the man’s name was "Rexxy."

It was clear, though, that the question had had the same effect on Frostling. The Heir let out a quiet, nervous laugh. He took a step back as the man took a step forward. "Or… Is it possible… You didn’t consider… That I let you think that?" said the man.

"What?" said Frostling, stammering halfway through the question. "B-But… But you tried it on me… Didn’t you? Y-You said it wouldn’t work on the White Heir!"

The man raised an eyebrow. "Did I?" he said. The man’s face was impassive and impossible to read. "I don’t recall… But if I did, then I’m afraid I must apologize." The man took another step, pushing Frostling further back. "I lied."

"No…" said Frostling, shaking his head as the man slowly backed him toward one of the cave walls. "No, no, no, no… You’re… You’re shitting me. You’re messing with me. Pulling my leg." Frostling took another step back. The man took another step forward.

"S-Stop it!" said Frostling, as the man reached up to brush his thumb across Frostling’s cheek. "Ha. Ha. Ha. Okay. I get it. You can stop now. Let’s scare poor little Frostling. It’s going to be hilarious!"

Frostling’s eyes were wide. They darted around, refusing to land on the man slowly advancing on him. Joey and Frostling locked gazes for a moment. "Stop it, Rexxy! It’s not fucking funny!" Frostling said, practically screaming.

Joey’s heart jumped in his chest. There was something about watching Frostling’s cool, playful demeanor rapidly degenerate into utter terror that was just so viscerally horrifying. Joey wanted to look away, but at the same time, he just couldn’t.

"I told you, my dear," said the man. "I don’t appreciate having to get my hands dirty. You made me get my hands dirty tonight, little Heir. This means, unfortunately for you, that I must demand thrice the normal amount of tribute."

"But… But I already gave you… I brought you another… Isn’t he enough?!" Frostling screeched, pointing at Joey with frantic eyes. He jabbed his finger repeatedly in Joey’s direction as if it would make persuading the man any easier. "I don’t have any more to give!"

"What, him?" said the man, glancing for the first time at Joey. It was the first time that Joey saw the man’s whole face. He was fucking handsome. His face was chiseled, just like his body, perfectly framed in dark hair that brought out the fiery red of his eyes. "I’m of the opinion that he was a gift made in good faith… For all that we’ve been through together."

"I… I…" Frostling muttered, looking down at his feet. He screamed when his back hit the wall and started sobbing. "I… I don’t have anything left to give you…" he said, sliding all the way down to the ground along the cave wall.

The man lowered himself onto his haunches in front of Frostling. With his forefinger and his thumb, he caught Frostling’s chin and tilted Frostling’s face up toward him. "But you do, my dear… You have something left to give me…"

With his free hand, the man pressed the collar up against Frostling’s throat. "You have yet to give me yourself, little Heir," said the man, as the collar clicked shut with a resounding finality.

The effect was immediate. Frostling’s eyes glazed over. His jaw hung open as drool dribbled from the corner of his mouth down his chin. The clothes on his body dissolved to dust, just in time to show off his rapidly inflating cock.

The man stood up and dusted himself off. Frostling quietly crawled forward, keeping his eyes firmly on the ground until he came to the man’s feet. Frostling lowered himself to the cave floor, mouth outstretched to lick at the man’s feet.

But it seemed that the man had other plans. "Stay right where you are," the man commanded, planting his foot on top of Frostling’s head, pushing it to the ground. Then, the man walked around behind Frostling and roughly kicked Frostling’s legs apart.

"Don’t move. And be silent," the man commanded. Just like that, Frostling’s body seemed to lock into position. The man raised his foot between Frostling’s legs, tracing the underside of Frostling’s hard, throbbing cock with his big toe.

"Worthless. Petty. Thief!" the man snarled, drawing his foot back and delivering a kick straight to Frostling’s balls that lifted Frostling’s behind about a foot into the air before his knees slammed back onto the ground.

Frostling made no sound, not even the slightest whimper of agony. Joey imagined that Frostling couldn’t. He had been commanded to not move and to make no sound, after all. Even when the man walked away, Frostling remained locked in his position.

Halfway back to the hoard, the man stopped. "Oh, and I nearly forgot…" murmured the man, extending an arm out toward Frostling. "Zanhar, Xelethrim, Lokhingr, you are mine, now."

Three ethereal figures, seemingly made of frost, drifted up from Frostling’s prone form. The glittering ice crystals made up the visages of dragons from the neck up, displaying golden collars much like the one Frostling had. Their heads were bowed low in deference. "Yes, thy majesty; our loyalty is thine."

"Good," breathed the man. He flippantly waved his hand to dismiss the dragons and as suddenly as they appeared, they disappeared into mist that faded into the hot muggy air.

With one fluid motion, the man swung his arm out to the side. When it came to a stop, held at shoulder height, the man’s fingers were closed around a razor-sharp sword made of ice. The man chuckled and tossed the weapon aside, which turned to steam long before it hit the ground.

"Gods help us," Seladonious breathed. Joey hadn’t noticed, but he had been holding his breath for much of the interaction between the man and Frostling. It seemed that the dragons had been, too. They had all been riveted into the display that had taken place in front of them.

The palpable concern in Seladonious’ utterance didn’t leave much room for interpretation. It certainly didn’t help a whit with the gut-wrenching fear that was coursing through Joey’s veins.

It wasn’t all too heroic to act like a scared little boy, but the truth was Joey was more than a little bit intimidated by the man. Not to mention the seemingly absolute command that he had exercised over Frostling the moment that the collar had snapped shut around the other Heir’s neck. "Why were we not made aware of this?" Arrataz hissed.

"It is likely that not even the Chorus knows," said Vextril, after a moment of silence. The dragon sounded subdued. Quiet. Far from his usual mischievous self.

"Can you stop speaking in vagueries, guys? None of this is helping. I don’t care who he is or what that guy is. All I know is that we can’t stay here. You saw what he did to Frostling and, I assume, Frostling’s Guides!" said Joey.

Vextril scoffed. At the very least, his cynicism hadn’t changed. "Thou can scarcely muster the power to fly of thy own accord. If thou hast, unbeknownst to us, unlocked the queer power of breaking through enchantment, thou art more than welcome to demonstrate. If not, thou wouldst stand a better chance of trying to teach the bull to waltz or the rock to bleed than thou wouldst at breaking these glyphs that bind thee."

Arrataz offered his grudging counsel in a low, grumbling voice. He sounded every bit as resigned as Vextril. "If thou wouldst listen to counsel but this once, thou shouldst pay attention. The hierarchy of dragons is cloven to power, and thy time would be better spent on reconciliation with what is to be thine fate."

"What? Why?" said Joey. "Can’t I turn into a dragon? Wouldn’t that break these chains? And why should I just give up? That’s nothing like what you’ve taught me! I want to fight. I’m not just going to lay down and take this!"

"If it were that simple, we would have conseled thee to that course already," said Seladonious. It was surprising to hear him so downtrodden. "But the man that thou seest before thee, if our suspicions are proven correct, is a Domus. He is a dragon prince. One of a rare breed of Heir who possesses absolute power over the Dragon Force and those that belong to it."

"Sorry to break up what I am sure is a riveting conversation between yourself and your guides, but I must insist that you pay heed to my words while you are a guest in my humble abode," said a voice, startling Joey out of his exchange with his Guides.

Joey blinked. The man was standing in front of him, a small smirk playing on his lips and another collar in his hands. This one was not a simple band of gold like the one Frostling was wearing now. Rather, it was encrusted with jewels the likes of which Joey had never even seen before.

"Such a delicate little flower," murmured the man. "It will be a pleasure to break you to my will."

"I’ll never break!" Joey hissed. But the dragons in his head remained silent. Fine. If they weren’t going to help him, then he was going to do this on his own. He had managed life without help from anyone, after all.

Sure, Joey was facing a man who he had just watched enslave, in the blink of an eye, one of the most formidable foes he had ever encountered, but that didn’t mean that he had a pass to just give up.

"Ahh… Such a vibrant spark," said the man. "I should have expected no less from the Heir of the Storm. That is what will make breaking you so sweet."

"I don’t care if you turn me into a helpless puppet like you did Frostling," Joey snarled, somehow finding the courage for words despite the primal fear pounding at the edges of his consciousness. "I don’t care if you’re a Domus or a prince or whatever the fuck you are. I’m going to fight you with every fibre of my being!"

The man’s smirk widened. The fire in his eyes glowed even brighter. His teeth sharpened into points as his pupils turned into reptilian slits. "A prince?" the man said, his voice now low like the sound of a rumbling volcano. "You misapprehend my darling treasure. I AM DRACONIS REX. I AM NO PRINCE. I. AM. A. KING."

The entire cavern shook with the force of Draconis Rex’s final utterance. Such was the intensity of Draconis Rex’s speech that for a moment, the fire of rebellion in Joey’s heart was quelled.

Cracks spiderwebbed across the floor, the walls, and the ceiling. Red hot magma showed through as the ambient temperature shot up to near-unbearable levels. And yet, Draconis Rex seemed to take it in without so much as a hint of discomfort. "You have such fire, little Stormling… I approve."

"You think that you can fight me unless I allow it?" Draconis Rex sneered, scales breaching the flesh around his nose and under his eyes as his features took on a decidedly more draconic appearance.

Joey spat in his captor’s face, the fire burning bright once again. The fear from before roiled in the back of his head, but he knew that he couldn’t let it win. His very freedom depended on it. He was going to fight. With every scrap of his strength. Guides or no. "I have no doubt," he growled.

"Then let me show you how truly powerless you are against me," said Draconis Rex. His eyes were the color of burning embers as they glowed with searing light. Joey winced as he felt Draconis Rex’s fingers threading through the locks of hair plastered against his scalp. He stifled the scream as Draconis Rex pulled.

Draconis Rex’s hand came away with a shower of crackling sparks. Lightning gathered together in the form of a dragon’s head and neck by some mystical force hovered in the air in front of Joey. "Vextril," said Draconis Rex, the single word, the name, thrumming with palpable power. "You are mine, now."

A golden collar like the one that Draconis Rex held in his other hand materialized around Vextril’s neck. Vextril ducked his head and murmured, "Yes, thy majesty."

As the likeness of the dragon faded away, Joey felt like a part of him had been ripped clea off his soul. There was an emptiness left behind, a void that was hungry for something to fill it. There was a space now where there had once been a voice, and it starved for a new one to replace it.

Joey growled, jangling his chains as Draconis Rex’s hand pulled on his hair again, this time coming away with a draconic visage visibly broader than Vextril’s had been. "Arrataz," Draconis Rex declared, the muscles in his neck bulging, "You are mine, now."

As Vextril before him, Arrataz, the one that Joey would have called the strongest, the most bullheaded of his Guides, ducked his head and accepted his collar. "Yes, thy majesty," Arrataz whispered with seemingly no remorse.

"Perhaps it is for the best," counseled Seladonious, before the absence of Arrataz truly hit Joey. The yawning chasm inside of him tore even bigger. Tears ran down Joey’s face from the grief of loss.

Fearing the worst, Joey summoned his lightning. Draconis Rex was about to pull when Seladonious drifted out of him without the need for violence. The lightning coursing in Joey’s veins evaporated as Seladonious bowed his head to his new lord and master like the other two before him.

"Power is everything to Heirs like us," said Draconis Rex. "He who is with power is with the divine right to rule. The Dragon Force knows not good or evil. It is merely a force of nature. And there are those blessed with the ability to wield it better than others."

"Where is your gith now, little Stormling?" said Draconis Rex, sneering as he chuckled. "Where is your spark? The lightning that coursed through your veins? I know… Would you like me to show you?"

Joey looked up at Draconis Rex. He felt so empty, so cold inside. He had never realized how bad loneliness could feel until he was alone in his own head. He glared dully at Draconis Rex, trying to fill the void in his soul with anger. But the darkness only swallowed his rage and left him feeling even emptier.

Draconis Rex’s fingers dug into the flesh of Joey’s stomach before Joey could spit at him. A split second later, Joey’s entire body convulsed as he felt the raw, unfettered power of a lightning bolt course through his body. Without his powers to protect him, the electricity seared every cell of his being.

"You have no power here, little Stormling. You have no hope. Without your Guides you are nothing. An empty shell. One without a destiny," said Draocnis Rex.

Joey’s vision was black as he heard the sound of chains breaking. He felt the pain of his knees hitting the cave floor. But he was just numb, his body twitching occasionally due to the residual electricity.

As Joey’s sight returned to him, he looked up at Draconis Rex with tears in his eyes. "But I can give you power," said Draconis Rex. "I can make you something again. I can give you a new Destiny. The only catch is that you will have to be mine, my little Stormling."

Draconis Rex let the collar fall to the ground. A loud clang rang out through the cave as it hit the stone. None of the glimmering gemstones set into the collar popped out. "You will never fill that void inside of you again. Not while I have your Guides. Not unless I fill it. The choice is yours. Get up and get out of here. Or stay and be made anew."

With those words, Draconis Rex walked away.

Despite himself, Joey stared at the collar. He should have just shut his eyes and walked out. But he felt so weak, so powerless. His arms and legs felt like jelly. And the yawning chasm inside of him called out, desperate to be filled. He couldn’t imagine living with that emptiness, no matter how hard he tried.

For a long time, Joey knelt there, staring at the collar. He didn’t know how long he stayed, fighting to keep his wits about him, fighting to stay strong. But he tired, eventually, like any warrior would. His Guides were gone. Draconis Rex was right. He was lost. Empty. He could not live with the void inside of him.

Joey didn’t want to give up the fight, but as time passed he only became more aware of the emptiness in his chest. He felt he had no choice as his fingers twitched toward the collar. He picked it up in his hands, tracing the metal made warm by the heat of the cave. It was heavy in his hands, heavy like the choice that weighed on him.

Joey had no doubt that this would be the last time he felt the collar’s weight anywhere but around his neck. With a sigh, he lowered his head. He brought the collar up to his throat and shut it on his nape with a loud click. The void disappeared, filled with a deep, pleasant heat.

"I must commend you," Draconis Rex murmured, approaching from the periphery of Joey’s vision. Joey hadn’t noticed Draconis Rex had been nearby at all. "You lasted longer than I anticipated."

The words were echoed by the warmth inside of him, emanating from the heat that filled the chasm that had been left behind in his soul. "From this day until your last day, you are mine, little Stormling."

Joey felt a pang of regret, but the emotion was muted, like he was feeling it through someone else. He resigned himself to the thought of belonging to Draconis Rex for the rest of his life and felt an involuntary flush of arousal through his body. He wanted to reject the sensation, wanted to will down the stirring in his groin. But he couldn’t. He simply couldn’t.

"I see that you haven’t yet been given a name," said Draconis Rex. "Hardly a surprise as your Guides appear to be on the traditional side… There is power in the names of dragons, you know. Traditionally it is found on a journey of self-discovery. It is a sign of individual growth and power to give oneself a draconic name."

"But you hardly qualify for that now, don’t you?" said Draconis Rex. Joey’s body moved of its own accord, shaking his head from side to side. Begrudgingly, Joey accepted the answer that had been forced on him and felt another wave of sensual pleasure wash over him.

"It seems hardly appropriate to give you the chance to choose your own draconic name when you will never make another independent decision for the rest of your life," said Draconis Rex. "Well, not unless I give you explicit permission."

"Stand up," commanded Draconis Rex. Joey felt his wobbly legs muster, somehow, the strength to rise. Fire erupted in a circle around him and his new master. Draconis Rex walked up to him, so close that he could feel the older man’s body heat radiating onto his skin.

"Look into my eyes and acknowledge the power I now hold over you," said Draconis Rex. Joey had no choice but to follow the command, gulping audibly. "From this day until your last day, Heir of the Dragon Force, Scion of the Raging Storm, the blood of dragons that flows in your veins shall endow upon you the name Belarion."

Something resonated deep inside Joey as Draconis Rex uttered that word. That name. Somehow, he knew what it meant. Belarion. Treasure. But not treasure in the way that one might call one’s beloved. Treasure in the same sense as the gold coins scattered across the cave floor, as the heap of gold and jewels in the center of the room. Treasure, like that fit to crown a dragon king’s hoard.

It wasn’t the worst name. Joey had expected something far more demeaning. Belarion, at least, implied some value. Another surge of pleasure accompanied his surrender to his new name, and this time he couldn’t stifle the moan that slipped past his lips.

For what it was worth, though, Joey was glad that he had kept his mind. He hadn’t been turned into a mindless thrall like Frostling had been. It was the silver lining to a very, very dark storm cloud.

Joey wished he could say that he hated the collar that hung around his neck with every fibre of his being, but even hate felt muted to him. The collar was more comfortable than he had imagined, and the acknowledgement of the fact earned him more pleasure that went straight to his cock.

Even when Draconis Rex turned his back to Joey, Joey couldn’t muster the strength to so much as move his hand to strike his master from behind. Rebellion felt like it was beyond reach, and the merest thought of it slipped through his fingers, drifting away like ashes in the wind.

Draconis Rex walked away from Joey, climbing over the hoard with a practiced grace. His feet seemed to find the most stable spots as coins slid down the gently sloping sides with a quiet, delicate tinkle. Draconis Rex crested the mound and hopped off the other side.

With a swagger in his step, Draconis Rex walked up to a dais on the opposite side of the pile. He turrned around and faced Joey, clapping his hands thrice and throwing his arms open before letting himself fall backward onto what appeared to be thin air.

A gilded throne, rising from some hidden compartment beneath the dais, broke Draconis Rex’s fall. He lounged over one of the arm rests, a small smirk on his face. "Come here, my treasure," whispered Draconis Rex, beckoning Joey toward him with a hooked finger. "It is time I properly claimed you."

A chill surged down Joey’s spine, but disobedience was as distant a dream as rebellion. His limbs carried him forward, propelling him over the hoard with the same grace that Draconis Rex had displayed. He came to a stop before the king’s throne.

"Kneel," said Draconis Rex. Joey figured that there was no sense resisting when he clearly couldn’t. He sank to his knees of his own accord and felt a flush of pleasure wash over his body. He gritted his teeth around the moan, but his hard cock betrayed him by leaking a pearl of pre-cum onto the floor.

Joey’s powers had gone with his Guides, but clearly the libido he’d inherited from the Dragon Force was still present. The pleasure of obedience was nothing like he’d ever felt before. It left a mark. One that he couldn’t stop thinking about. It wasn’t intense, but it was good. And his cock twitched eagerly at the prospect of getting to feel it again.

Joey felt disgust at his own complacency, how eagerly his body was giving into Draconis Rex’s manipulation, but as with anger, it felt like an emotion that belonged to someone else.

"Good boy," said Draconis Rex. Master. King. "It is time you learned worship. The way I prefer it… I imagine this will be your first time tasting dragon cock. I suggest you get used to it. It will not be your last. Not that it matters, of course. Soon enough you will be begging for it."

"Oh…" said Draconis Rex, "and feel free to speak your mind. I promise I won’t get hurt by your words."

Gasping at the sudden freedom to speak, like a weight had been lifted off his chest, Joey glared at Draconis Rex. "This is sick," he said, through gritted teeth. "You’re sick." he said. But the disgust he felt was still distant, detached, numbed.

"Oh, I’m sure that you’ll be singing a different tune before long," said Draconis Rex. His eyes gleamed again, like coals burning hotter in a strong breeze. The shorts wrapped so sensuously wrapped around Draconis Rex’s crotch so as to leave nothing to the imagination burned to ash in a matter of seconds, revealing something that Joey was entirely unprepared for.

Between Draconis Rex’s legs, where he would have expected a thick, throbbing, veiny cock, was instead a scaly mound with a slit down the middle. "I’m sure it’s not what you’re used to," said Draconis Rex, flashing a toothy, partially-transformed draconic grin at Joey. "But trust me when I say it will be all too familiar soon enough."

"Come forward," Draconis Rex commanded. "Worship me with your tongue."

Joey shivered as the command washed over him. There was absolute authority in Draconis Rex’s voice. His tone was the tone of a man who knew that he had a right to rule, who knew that his place was above all things.

As he shuffled forward, Joey looked up at Draconis Rex with new eyes. The self-styled king had commanded him to worship, so an alien sensation of veneration and awe filled Joey.

Joey leaned in as Draconis Rex hiked his legs apart for easy access. The musk was thick and heady in the air long before Joey even got close to Draconis Rex’s slit. It smelled Earthy. Sexy. With a hint of smoke.

Obedience was the only meaningful choice that Joey had, and as he performed as he was commanded, another wave of pleasure washed over him. He moaned, his cock throbbing between his legs, leaking pre-cum all over the dais as, as he lowered his face to Draconis Rex’s slit.

Tentatively, Joey stuck his tongue out to lap at the scaly crevice. He expected something smooth and hard like a shell as he traced his tongue along the edges of Draconis Rex’s slit, but instead the scales there were surprisingly soft and pliable.

A deep, baritone moan escaped Draconis Rex as Joey got his first taste of his new lord and master’s sex. It was salty and sweet at the same time, with a faint hint of bitterness and a hint of spiciness.

Sparks flew in Joey’s head as he struggled to explain why Draconis Rex tasted so good to him. It wasn’t a flavor profile that he would have particularly appreciated in food, but here, between his king’s legs, it was like ambrosia. The food of the gods.

Truly this man was worthy of worship if he tasted so heavenly, Joey thought to himself, and was rewarded with a pulse of mind-numbing pleasure.

Joey’s breathing picked up the pace as he rested his nose against the side of his new master’s slit and felt himself overcome with the need to revere and worship. Pleasure crashed against him again as he slid his tongue up and down the length of the slit between Draconis Rex’s legs.

Joey moaned as he felt Draconis Rex opening up for him, the crevice loosening for his tongue, becoming looser and wetter. Joey had never gone down on a girl before — had never wanted to — but he imagined that if he had, it would have been much like this.

However, as Joey’s tongue sought deeper, chasing after that delicious, intoxicating taste, he found something with the tip of his tongue. Something soft, fleshy. It was like a nub, except it was hot and wet, salty-sweet at the tip. He flicked his tongue against it and felt it twitch, eliciting a groan from Draconis Rex.

Joey looked up at his master with wide eyes, lost in the haze of pleasure that was a direct reward for his obedience. He couldn’t process what it was that he had found, what he had encountered inside his master’s sex. But he got no explanation, only a knowing smirk as he felt the nub swell against his tongue.

A moment later, Joey realized what it was. His cock pulsed and throbbed between his legs as waves of intense, crippling pleasure crashed over him.

Thoughts of resistance all but shattered in Joey’s mind as the growing member began to slide out of Draconis Rex’s slit. It psuhed Joey’s tongue out of the way, slipping past the folds of Draconis Rex’s scaly slit, emerging into the light in all its full, glistening glory.

"Do you like it, my little treasure?" said Draconis Rex. The dragon cock standing proudly in front of Joey was magnificent. It was the only word truly worthy to describe what had manifested before him. He moaned, his own cock pitifully leaking onto the floor between his legs, neglected in the presence of this mighty pillar of meat.

"With this scepter, I will make you mine," said Draconis Rex. And it was a majestic scepter indeed. It was a faint reddish color, tapered at the tip. A ridge at the top, a raised line of flesh from about a quarter of an inch from the tip to the base, bore what appeared to be small fleshy spines that pointed away from the tapered end. A similar line but with slightly bigger spines traced the underside of the mighty dragon cock.

Joey darted forward and licked a line up from the base of Draconis Rex’s cock to the tip. There had been no command for him to do so. He was acting on desire, eager now to worship the beautiful cock before his eyes.

"There is no choice but surrender," said Draconis Rex.

Joey looked up at him with glazed-over eyes. He had long since succumbed. Surrender was a formality. His body, wracked with pleasure, had turned to instinct and had abandoned all principle. "Yes, your majesty," he breathed, as he worked his tongue over the hot, supple length of Draconis Rex’s cock.

As he worked his mouth along the length of Draconis Rex’s shaft, Joey wondered at how it would feel inside of him. The pleasure reward that he received from that thought was so powerful that he nearly screamed out loud.

Instincts, both ones that he had already had inside of him and the ones that had been planted in him by Draconis Rex, left Joey with no choice. He opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around the tapered head of the mighty dragon cock.

It tasted so good. It was heavenly. Rapturous. A revelation of truth that Joey could not deny. This was where he was meant to be. This was what he was meant to be. Subservient. A slave to the king’s will. A slave to the king’s cock.

Slowly and without prompting, Joey closed his eyes and worked his lips down the massive ridged shaft. It hit the back of his throat before long, but the tapered shape helped it slide down his airway.

Joey didn’t get it all down, however. He only got about a third of the way down before his jaw refused to open any wider. And before he could control himself, he huffed in annoyance at not being able to take the whole thing.

A moan bubbled up out of Joey’s stomach as he was rewarded for his desire to swallow his master’s entire cock, but Draconis Rex merely chuckled. "I don’t mind, my treasure. There will be more than enough time together for you to get used to my size. But for now you should focus on getting me wet enough to claim you."

It hadn’t been a command, but it had been spoken in the imperative. In the space of a heartbeat, Joey’s mind snapped into clear focus. He slurped and slobbered over the few inches that he could actually manage in his mouth, moaning and groaning as a steady stream of delicious, salty-sweet dragon pre-cum slid down the back of his throat.

As he bobbed his head up and down the hot, throbbing meat between Draconis Rex’s legs, Joey’s thoughts drifted further and further away from the noble heroism that had brought him before his king in the first place. It was like Draconis Rex’s cock was pushing out his principles, replacing them with utter devotion.

The desire for rebellion became a distant memory, like a dream from another life. And as Joey finally let go of his last hopes of getting out, pleasure washed over him again and again and again, reinforcing his obedience, pushing him, nudging him ever closer to the ideal picture of subservience that Draconis Rex had in mind.

Joey suckled and slurped on Draconis Rex’s cock like his life depended on it. He didn’t stop; not even when his jaw grew sore or his stomach swelled full of pre-cum. He loved it. He loved the taste. Loved the heat. Loved the sensation of the spines brushing against the roof of his mouth and his tongue.

Until Draconis Rex finally gave the command for him to stop and face away on all fours, Joey eagerly wetted his master’s cock as he had been commanded. Individuality, self-determination, free will, it was slowly eroded with every drop of pre-cum that was eagerly swallowed. The fight leached out fo him, seemingly leaking out of his hard, neglected cock.

Following his new orders, Joey held himself to the floor, his head against the stone, his knees as wide apart as they could go. He arched his back, pushing his ass as high up in the air as it would go. He could think of nothing else except what his master desired, could desire nothing more than be a good slave and give his master pleasure.

Joey’s old self retreated further and further away, replaced by new goals and new values. Where once there had been three dragon Guides speaking to him and offering him wisdom, there was now a single voice, the overwhelming voice of a dragon king that would give no advice but would instead dictate his will.

Bucking his hips as he felt Draconis Rex’s cock line up with his entrance, Joey moaned. Pleasure again washed over him. His cock leaked. It was no longer a prize from Draconis Rex, a reward for being obedient. The pleasure came from Joey, a thrill at finally being taken.

At first, Draconis Rex breached Joey without trouble. It didn’t hurt as the tapered head spread him open. The ridges and spines felt good, rubbing his insides in just the right way.

But before long Draconis Rex’s cock started spreading Joey’s hole beyond what he’d experienced before. The girth, while only uncomfortable initially, became increasingly agonizing as Joey was pulled back onto Draconis Rex’s cock.

Joey felt like he was being split apart, a spear of burning-hot pain being thrust inside of him. His mind came apart at the seams, lost in the haze of pleasure-pain until he felt Draconis Rex’s hips come to rest against his.

Joey was full. So full. He could almost feel the heat of Draconis Rex’s cock in his stomach. It was that deep inside of him. And the pain was intense. It was unlike any he had experienced before. The only thing that made it tolerable was the rapturous pleasure that accompanied the pain.

In the back of Joey’s mind, he felt a dark sort of satisfaction. Draconis Rex’s cock should have destroyed him. Should have broken him. And yet he had bottomed out without so much as losing consciousness.

It felt good. So good to be worthy of Draconis Rex’s cock. Even more so when it started moving inside of Joey, scraping his insides with the spiny ridges.

Despite his aggression, his assertiveness, Draconis Rex proved a surprisingly tender lover. "Don’t get used to this, my treasure," Draconis Rex whispered, as he slowly rolled his hips, fucking his cock into Joey with a strange gentleness that made Joey’s insides twitch. "I expect that you will practice for me every day until you can take me in my full rut. Dragon seed demands to be spilled often, after all. Especially the seed of a king."

Joey whimpered, feeling the tapered tip of Draconis Rex’s cock slowly trace a line backward and forward over his prostate. It felt good. So good. He could scarcely manage a whispered, "Yes, your majesty," to his master.

For a few minutes, the two of them kept at that pace. Draconis Rex slowly and lovingly worked his cock in and out of Joey. Each thrust stretched Joey out a little more. It was good. It was intense. It was painful. But Joey weathered it. For his master.

As the pain finally gave way, dissolving into nothing, Draconis Rex seemed to pick up on the change right away. His movements became sharper. Faster. He wasn’t as careful or as thoughtful about the way that he moved his hips. His fingers dug deeper into Joey’s skin.

Faster. Harder. Every thrust worked Joey up, just a little bit, toward that frenzied rutting he’d experienced from the other side every time he fucked Castor. Faster. Harder. Each stroke longer. Deeper. His master’s cock pulling out further and further with each pump.

Strength gradually returned to Joey’s limbs. He moved with Draconis Rex, meeting every thrust with his hips. In and out. In and out. Harder and faster with every snap forward.

The ridges along the top and bottom of Draconis Rex’s cock made Joey’s hole tingle and twitch. He moaned out loud. It was a deep sound, a primal utterance. In and out. In and out. Pummeling his insides to a pulp.

It felt good. So good. To be used as a possession. To be owned wholly and without question.

Draconis Rex fucked Joey with impunity. Harder and faster. It was brutal. Vicious. The rut had come on and Draconis Rex was merciless. But Joey took it to the best of his abilities, to say nothing of his resilience. He braved the ferocity of Draconis Rex’s fuck, moaning with every pull out, and meeting every slam back in.

Joey’s cock leaked and splattered pre-cum all over the ground, swinging this way and that from the brutal lovemaking.

Faster. Harder. In. Out. Until every thrust became more ragged, until the rutting lost its rhythm. Raw instinct and desire won out. Joey moaned, screaming his throat raw. It felt good. So good.

Whatever remained of Joey’s old self was disoldged and pulverized in the thorough rutting. Joey couldn’t bring himself to care. It felt good. So good to be owned. To be used. To be so thoroughly fucked.

Draconis Rex leaned over Joey, his hips jackhammering his cock into Joey’s poor hole. He was close. Joey could tell. Growling and snarling, Draconis Rex buried his teeth into Joey’s shoulder as the cock inside of him expanded, pulsing and swelling and throbbing as the cum surged up its length.

Joey moaned, his eyes rolling back into his head as white-hot blast of cum after white-hot blast of cum seared his insides. Agony and pleasure in equal mind-numbing measure filled him as his cock exploded, spraying cum all over the stone floor.

The barrage of sensations overwhelmed him, made his brain short-circuit. With a cry, he hit a second orgasm right after the first and lost consciousness.

---

Joseph sat up in his bed with a start. A cold sweat ran down his spine. The void in his chest suddenly felt stark at the memory of what had been there once, long ago.

Joseph rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he groaned. Why today, of all days, did he have to remember his youth? It had been a dark time. And yet, his cock was hard under the sheets. As it was every time that he dreamed of the night of his surrender.

Wrapping his fingers around his cock, Joseph quickly brought himself to completion. He ignored the fantasies that flashed briefly through his mind, of feeling the weight of the golden collar on his neck again. It was quick and methodical, but no less pleasurable.

When he was done, Joseph let the hot cum cool on his chest and stomach. He lied there for a moment, using the silence to gather his wits about him. After a few minutes, he tossed the blankets off his legs and rose for his morning ablutions.

Joseph had scarcely sat down to have coffee in his quarters at the Hall of Heroes before he heard a knock at the door. Right. Today was the day he was supposed to start participating in that program. He had almost forgotten. He sighed. "Who is it?" he called out.

"L-Lord Fulminant, sir?" called a voice from outside his door. "I-I’m here today to start my apprenticeship…"

Joseph rolled his eyes. Oh to be young again. He walked to the door and opened it. The pneumatics hissed as the door slid into the wall. A precocious youngster with innocence in his eyes greeted him. "And your name is?" Joseph said.

"C-Corey, sir. Corey Cooper," stammered the youngster.

Joseph rolled his eyes. "Your codename, kid," he said. "Gods. Don’t they ever teach you juniors anything these days?"

"S-Sorry, sir…" said Corey, sheepishly scratching the back of his head. "U-Um… they call me Tempest."