By: David Ihnen

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This story is Copyright by David Ihnen. Please do not distribute without permission.

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Alan hopped down from the tall field chair and adjusted his pith helmet from the shade of the awning, watching the robots work. Each four-wheeled robot with is carry-tray drove up into the charger. Wisps of smoke and the smell of ozone accompanied it. Then down a ramp and in line for the excavator. It swung its scoop over, depositing a handful of possibly artifact rich dirt and detritus on the tray. They whirred and whined, rolling up the far slope and back through the mist towards the analysis shed to be picked apart scanned and photographed. The mist was the visible manifestation of the enviro-field that kept the dig at about 70 degrees and 20% humidity.

This was easier - and far more comfortable - than the old way of doing digs, but it was so boring! He missed getting his hands dirty. He looked over at the rough pillar again. He couldn't stop thinking about it. Sonar said a highly dense material was encased therein, it had been excavated around but not revealed. He grabbed the awning tablet from the hook and set up an override. He would excavate around the statue manually.

The cadence of the robots shifted as several left the procession to wait patiently by the pillar, ready lights glowing. They were shortly joined by an excavation awning, stretching itself over the area and painting the surfaces with a grid of laser-lines. Ah well, it beat setting up those strings and stakes. He grinned as he dug his clean hands into the warm dirt.

The robots had left only three inches or so around the extremities, so it didn't take him long to clear bulk of the surrounding dirt, nicely taken away by the endless procession of carry-bots. He started in with the brush and pan from the top down. As he revealed it, he found the statue consisted of a dark, glassy substance.

Its surface was equisitely detailed and preserved. The ebon ripples of two gently twisting horns rose from the statue's head. They gleamed even in the shade, the grid laser's red beams twinkling from the highly polished surfaces. He carefully worked his way down, brushing the dirt away.

He stood back and stared at the head. It was a remarkably human yet lizardish face. The horns made him think of traditional european dragons. He termed it anthropomorphic dragon. The fine detail of the scales that followed every curve and crevace of muscle and bone over the face was incredible. The mostly forward facing eyes gave it an appealingly human appearance. The short, slightly pointed muzzle was closed, its lips covered with even finer scales. The left corner of its mouth and left eyebrow were higher than their counterparts, giving it the expression of a smirk or amused curiosity. The cleaned portion glittered in the setting sun and laser grid, the light catching the edges the scales carved into the dark glassy surface glittering as he moved. This was truly an unusual find!

He had revealed a well-muscled and mostly human-like torso down to the belly button when the lights came on. He blinked and looked around. The sun was vanishing behind the trees. Dusk was short in the tropics. The statue seemed tall - possibly seven feet to his five, and all the more so as he worked down the torso. The shoulders, chest, and upper arms were protected by large, thick looking scales. It must have been carved by a master - the anatomical detail was stunning. Every ripple of muscle that curved a scale was represented, but not exaggerated. Perfect. Fascinated, he kept working.

The statue's back was also covered in the large, flexible scales. The spine was smooth, and as he continued cleaning, flowed into a thick tail over round buttocks. It flared out from the body before curving gracefully down. The edges of the top were ridged, the bottom smooth with smaller scales, but still strong. It was the thickness of his thigh at the top and his forearm at the bottom, where it rounded into a blunt tip, deflected to the right where it leaned against the plinth. He found himself sliding his fingers down the scales, spreading his hand to try and encompass its thickness. He pulled his hand away abruptly. One of the rules was to avoid soiling the artifacts with body oils.

He moved around to the front and started down from the naval. What he initially thought was a rock embedded firmly in the earth against the statue turned out to be a phallus. The tip was revealed in its ebony glory first, conical and curving upwards like a finger. It flared to a flare so thick he couldn't close his hand around it before narrowing to more reasonable size. The lower surface stood out with a rippled texture that had him running his fingers over it again and again. About ten inches in total length, it thickened as it neared the hips. Where it joined the body the scales of the hips flared around it. He could only liken it to photos of a dolphin, the way thick muscles bulged around its base. Just above the protruding phallus stood several rounded ridges, also pressing out from the finely carved slit. He could only imagine how good those would feel to the female of the species.

Adam found there were no visible testicles between the powerful thighs. Eyes constantly drawn back to the phallus, he worked on cleaning the lower portion. The statue's sinewy arms hung in fists at his sides, each set of three long fingers tipped with a sturdy, short claw that detented the palm. The thumbs were held inside, an odd choice on the part of the artist. Thick cords of muscle ran down the digitigrade legs. He could almost see the legs quiver they were so lifelike. The hock was thick, sturdy, and the toes splayed, one behind to provide a stable platform, each tipped with a wickedly curved and thick claw. The artist had even replicated the rough, rounded tips of well-used foot claws. Exquisite!

The last dirt removed from the plinth, Adam stepped back. He had a boner hard enough to match the statue's. Well, scientifcally speaking more accurately characterized as a raging hardon. The phallus glittered beautifully as it caught the sharp light of the dig's illuminators and red sparkles of the grid.

Adam considered himself quite the connoisseir of penises. This one was absolutely gorgeous. As appealing as the statue was on whole - the exotic tail and feet, the smirking face - his eyes kept returning to the glittering, rock hard perfection of the statue's virility. He was making quite a mess of his shorts - precum had soaked through his boxers and started making a wet spot on his dirty trousers.

Adam decided to celebrate a job well done with a well deserved wank. He was breathing a bit fast - his skin felt like it was glowing in the cool, mildly humid air within the envirofield. He doubted he could remember ever being so hot and bothered before. He moved a stool back out of the range of dig scanners. There was no point in recording this for posterity. Or worse, for the intern monitors down in base camp. He had just lowered his trousers when the lights abruptly went out.

The stilness was deathly quiet compared to the incessant whirr, whine, and cooling blowers of the field generator and bots. As his eyes adjusted, he saw the only light now came from the full moon. It shown through a gap in the forest canopy low in the eastern sky. The silvery moonlight illuminated the statue from about the shoulders down, the awning obstructing the top.

He really should get back to camp, see what had become of the power. But the head, shrouded in shadow, odly caught stray glimmers of light. His breath caught. Did it move? Was that an eye that gleamed? A white tooth where there had been none visible on the obsidian structure? The night sounds of the jungle seemed to press in on his brain. The hot, moist air reasserted itself in the absence of the envirofield. He felt it on his hard cock. He heard a mosquito whine near his ear and batted at it. It was just him. Him and the statue and the jungle. He should get back to camp, it had to be close to midnight. The moon reflected from the statue's phallus.

His eyes locked on the phallus. It stood out plainly in the moonlight despite its dark obsidian surface, the sparkles catching the moonlight, drawing him closer. Without conciously commanding his limbs he found himself fondling, fingers tracing the surface of the cool stone. He shouldn't, he twitched his hands away. No oils on the statue. His sweat redoubled as the temperature continued to rise, he felt sweat tickle down his back.

Once again he found his hands moving, unlacing his boots. What was he doing? Things seemed fuzzy, unclear. It was right to do this, wasn't it? They came free with a tug, his trousers, socks and shirt followed. But why was it right?

He could feel the air flowing over his tongue and throat as he panted, breathing deeply. The air was so hot and moist it didn't register as a temperature against him. The night merged with him, surrounded him, became a part of him, and he it. Clothed by his surroundings, breath sung in an out of his lungs. He found himself straddling the thick tail, hugging the statue, fondling its pectorals. The tail between his legs was half as wide as the hips, following the scaley curve of the spine beautifully. He rubbed himself along the surface, leaving glistening ribbons of precum on the glassy scales. Oils nothing, this was bodily flids! But he coudln't stop, his will to do so leaking away like water in a sieve.

He worshipped the statue. He licked, stroked, and fondled the unresponsive stone. He couldn't put his finger on why - it just felt good and right. Doing it soothed some of the lust aching deep inside him. Something in his head complained that this was highly unusual, that he should maintain an objective, scientific detachment. He acknowledged that was true with a whisper... But he didn't agree. He was not in his proper head just now, and it felt good.

The stone wasn't cold against his flesh any more. It didnt radiate heat, yet when where touched it felt hot. The almost painful intensity of the sensation was incredibly delightful. He somehow understood that if he could only burn himself white all over with that heat, he would never need more pleasure again. The surface of the statue was so silky smooth, even the edges of the scales seemed rounded, somehow soft or yielding against his flesh. He found himself with his arms around the statue's neck, legs wrapped around its torso. His head spun with sensation. He kissed the unresponsive, short muzzle, tongue sliding over the slickened surface. He felt throbbing, chanting, like a roar of a ceremony around him. Fuck science, this felt good! He lowered himself onto the upturned phallus like it was the most natural thing in the world. The tapered tip found his pucker with no effort. Tension drained from him, his mind seemed to sharpen as his body welcomed it.

The heat that he already felt where skin touched stone surged into him. His pelvis now flared in intense heat, heat inside him. Every movement was at once burn and pleasure. He had never felt anything so arousing, he loved it. He was so hard, he could feel tingles of pain as his cock twitched, forcing a spurt of precum out to splatter and drip down the statue's scaled stomach. He effortlessly lifted himself from the statue's phallus. He relished the cool absence of not touching it for long seconds. His lungs drew a deep, shuddering breath. He exhaled loudly, he knew what to do. He had to let go, give it all. Give it up. And it was going to fell so good. Letting his arms relax, he finally let the thickness of the draconic shaft spread him wide. It penetrated far deeper than he thought anything could. He gasped, body twitching without command, adjusting to the impossibly huge penetration. The heat came in waves now. It filled his stomach and thighs, his torso and calves. He couldn't breath enough, sucking in the muggy jungle air repeatedly. It was pleasure more than he could think. And he knew what he had to do to get more.

After far, far more than expected of the draconic shaft penetrated him, he felt the burning sensation of his quiverying cheeks pressing against the scaled stone thighs. The ridges above the cock pressed into his perinum and root of his twitching cock. His body convulsed, fireworks went off in his head. Nothing ever felt so good! He writhed, grinding himself against the statue in a frenzy. The ridges completed the building sensations like a key in a lock. Heat exploded throughout his body, the world vanishing in a convulsion of pleasure. Somewhere in there he distantly felt himself cumming. It was almost tertiary - he felt so good that even orgasm was unimportant. But with the pulsings, his ass clenched around the textured shaft, rounded spines pressing into his groin, deeper and deeper. His dick kept pumping with no more to spurt, a delicious convulsion of pleasure spiking through his gut, a glorious counterpoint to the utter bliss that was having the cock buried him. Things seemed to be indistinct, unreal.

There was tickle of fluid as something dripped down his front. He could feel his grip loosening. He tried to tighten it fearing he would fall, but his muscles weren't answering.


The drack sprinted across the valley. His lungs burned, breath rushing in and out as he bounded forward. The grass whipped against his legs, a soft sensation against his strong scales. He concentrated on his cadence as coached, spring-flex, spring-flex. Claws dug into the ground, finding copious purchase in the grassland tangle. This was no time to stumble. His powerful legs thrust him forward across the ground so fast the wind pushed into his open mouth, enough to making his tongue flap if he relaxed it. The others were right behind. He could see the temple ahead atop the jungled hill, bright flag flying from its highest point. He WOULD win the race!


"Oye, Alan! You okay?"

Alan twitched, and smiled at the memory of the dream. A heat still pulsed deep inside him reminding him of the night before. He could do with some more of that. His eye was opened by somebody, and he turned his head away, wincing at the brightness that flared in.

"Yeah, yeah. i'm fine." he said, muttering, "enough with the light!"

"Its the sun, it don't go out, mate! What the 'ell 'appened here?" the aussie demanded, "The power goes out and in the chaos, nobody notices you missing from the camp. I hike all the way up here and find ya layin sprawled out, out cold, bare-ass naked in the dirt! I dunno what the 'ell you been drinkin', but I want some!" He rummaged around Adam's hastily discarded garments hopefully.

Alan smiled and shook his head, sitting up and brushing dirt from his arms. At least he wasn't hard any more.

"I didn't drink anything Bert." he said, "Hand me my shorts?"

Bert did just that, admiring the statue. "Its a wonder you didn't get eaten alive up here with the fields down. Hey, that's spectacular!"

Alan nodded, tying his shoes. "Bugs don't seem to like the taste of me. Yeah, its a beaut - especially the phallus!"

"Eh? What phallus?"

Alan finished pulled his shirt over his head and blinked at the statue. The groin of the dragon-man was smooth and scaled - a barely visible slit carved into the stone across the gentle swell of the pubic mound. He blinked and looked again. Pristine. No break. Completely intact.

"Just a minute." he said, grabbing the canopy's interface tablet and scanning back in the system memory.

Its history went back only an hour, apparently when power was restored.

"Whu... Where the bloody hell is my data?" he sputtered, paging through the sensor log screens, searching for time spans within the last evening. Nothing but some test data existed on the system that was any older than an hour.

"The whole network went down last night." explained Bert cheerfully, "The data drives were a mess! They've sent them back to the college for retrieval, installed the backup set. Good news is, we can keep going as planned! Ain't technology grand? What didja want to show me?"

Adam frowned. It just didn't seem right to say. What was he going to say? The statue had a dick and I fucked myself with it? He had his career to think about.

"nuh.. Nothing. Anyway, I'm starved, you got any breakfast?"


His cock flexed, blood roaring in his head. The scent of in-heat female drack combined with the lustful musk of the onlookers was almost too much, his hips would start twitching and he could feel his seed leaking, dripping down his shaft and thigh shamefully, wastefully. He stood atop the platform while the drums beat and the priests chanted. Heat wavered from their torches, from the bonfires around him, and most of all from the potion inside him. Heat that felt like it would consume him in an instant, yet if it did, fulfill every pleasure concievable. And it kept getting hotter, hotter, he couldn't move, he didn't want to move. Perception of the world was fading, but it didn't matter. It was replaced by heat and pleasure, his ears full of a peaceful roar.


Adam woke with painfully hard morning wood. The dream flickered through his head. He dreamed again that he had been like the dragon-man of the statue, running a race against other dragon-men. Dracks. He could remember the feel of the grass whipping against legs and tail, digging claws into dirt and stone as he powered across the grasslands. A temple sparkled atop a mountain in the distance, peering above the verdant green of the jungle. Then heat, arousing, heat. Heat everywhere. Geeze he had to pee. He reached down to his morning wood and gave it a few half-hearted strokes. It just wasn't working. It was odd, and he couldn't quite put his brain on the slippery issue. It wasn't his cock. But he knew it was his cock. It felt like his cock always had. Except that he couldn't get off. Mumbling to himself he stumbled to his feet, moving the two steps to lean against the wall of the tiny RV restroom as he pulled down his shorts and... What was he trying to do? He yawned and fumbled, finally aiming his slowly relaxing penis into the bowl.


Adam scanned through possible artifacts on the computer screen. Pottery shards, worked paving and building stone bits, lime plaster, it went on and on. Most artifacts went into the record-and-return queue. He rubbed at his neck absently, it itched. Then pulled at his shirt, it was uncomforably tight across his shoulders. He had worn this shirt for years. Everything seemed to itch, not just on the surface, deep inside. God he was horny. He felt like his balls were primed to explode, a lustful pressure between his legs. Double-checking to make sure he was still alone, he pushed back in his chair and tried a wank. He gave up after about five minutes of nothing. He hadn't cum since the night with the statue. Now it was like trying to get off stroking somebody else's cock... entertaining in a vague way but not accomplishing the goal at hand. It had been two weeks since the night on the mountain. He was a healthy man, had always been able to choke one out in a few minutes. The pressure was just getting worse. This was no ordinary horny, he needed a lay in the worst way. He wriggled in his chair, rubbing his itching lower back against it. God that itched. He reached back and scratched hard, digging his blunt nails into the already raw flesh.


Adam stood on the tiny balcony of the hotel room, feeling awkward. It was such a cheap hotel they didn't even have an environment field. A ceiling fan spun in lazy circles, drawn along by a long leather belt that dissappeared through a slot in the wall. It barely more than stirred the air. He was hot and itchier than ever. Hot and horny and itchy. His lately insensitive cock seemed to be either half or fully hard continuously. It currently bulged his pants against his tented boxers.

He had tried wank off a dozen times in the last day, but it hadn't done one iota of good. Just when he started to get going, this itch all over him needed scratched. And in his groin and back especially. The doctor said he was perfectly healthy, stood an extra foot taller than he ever had and weighed 50 pounds more. But all he needed was a lay and some calomine. What the fuck, he had been 5 feet tall since seventh grade! The medicine didn't work at all, and he already knew he needed a lay in worst way! He had finally given up and ordered a working boy. Something about scratching yourself all the time made it difficult to get a date. He ground his lower back hard enough against the stucco wall that he could feel it ripping at his skin, the burning a pleasant replacement for the itch. He hopefully scanned up the narrow street. A man slowly pushed a handcart loaded with a generator. There! A skinny teenager came around the corner, wearing white canvas pants and a small brown vest over the deep brown skin of his chest. The boy's eyes met his. Oh yes. His heart hammered unexpected, his arousal surged. This was his boy. He could feel the precum trickling down his balls. He tugged his pants tight, making his arousal obvious over the railing.

The boy wet his lips with a red tongue, and smiled. "Un momento, senor!" he called, and dissappeared into the hotel entrance.

Adam couldn't get his clothes off fast enough. He was working on unbuttoning his shirt after he shed boots and shorts when a soft tap came on the door.

"Senor?" a soft voice spoke.

He ripped off his new shirt, spraying buttons bedamned, and opened the door. He didn't even wait for the door to close before he was on him. His hands tugged the boy's minimal clothing off and he had him layed out on the bed before they hit the floor.

"Oh, Senor!" he said, helping by pulling his legs up, spread wide.

His brown-skinned arousal was fairly small, but very hard. That didn't matter, it wasn't what Adam wanted. Hardly understanding himself he knelt down, breathing the youthful male musk. It connected something in his head he hadn't know was there. If his dick was stone before, it was steel now. He shoved his nose against the balls, breathing the scent, tongue out and licking the boy's brown pucker. It was musky, relatively clean even, but he didn't care one way or the other. His lips burned delightfully as he pressed them against the boy's ass, his tongue flaring in equally pleasurable intensity as he pressed both against him. He strained, licking, pressing. The smell excited him, drove him on. He felt his hips twitch, a dry orgasm washing over his hips. After so long without any it felt so very, very good.

He rubbed his face against the boy's thighs, balls, and ass. He licked, driving his burning tongue into him, far deeper than he ever could before. His tongue burned with intense heat, but he drove it into the boy over and over, deeper and deeper. Every inch more made his hips twitch in more orgasm. It felt so good! As the heat faded he realized he had *more* tongue. And this was how his tongue should be. How was it ever any different. He could feel around inside the boy, feel the hard lump of his aroused prostate, the soft crevasses of his colon. Even the bitter taste of digested beans that didn't disgust him in the least. Every exquisite sensation was arousal, his nose huffing as he breathed the musky scent. The boy gurgled and gasped, wordless. Feeling his ring flex inside he wrapped his tongue around the prostate, squeezing and tickling it. The boy came with a ragged gasp, ribbons of sticky seed fountaining over his chest.

Adam slurped his tongue out of the ass and licked up the musky fluid. His face itched intensely where he had rubbed it against the boy, the fire penetrating through his head. He felt like his face was stretching, but he ignored it for the moment. There was cum. He made short work of the tasty mess. He even wrapped his tongue tightly around the cock and balls, milking and squeeing to make sure he got every bit. He even using the pointed tip to tease the last few drops out. Satisfied that there was no more nectar, he shifted his hips forward.

The heat that burned through him flared into a sun the moment his tip pressed against the pucker. He gasped, the boy yelped, mouth open, eyes clamped closed. Adam's body was on fire, and his groin was the flame of pleasure. And there was movement, like a muscle he never relaxed before, inside him. Yes, THIS was what he had been missing! This felt right!

His pubic mound swelled, spreading beneath the skin. the itching and stretching surged, the heat almost unbearable. His muscles quivered and he clenched. The movement inside clamped down again. His old cock was half-in the boy's ass, but he was barely paying attention to that any more. This was it! Giggling under his breath he did *it* again and watched his mound swell, and with a *slide* he felt his cock... dropping sounded right. This was his cock, not this little fleshy thing that itched. It made perfect sense, this was why he hadn't been able to get off, he hadd been stroking the wrong cock! His old cock burned inside where the pointed tip of his inner cock pressed into it.

He backed up, growling through grit his teeth, and let his arousal push it out. A burning wave of heat blasted through his groin as the dragon cock came out, forced down his cock, replacing the incessant itch with the burning intensity. He just wanted more of it! The skin of his cock was now swollen grotesquely, stretched and aching in distension. The familiar shape of the first half of the dragon's cock completely filled his member, pulling the skin tighter as it continued to slide out. Excitement making him feel giddy. The girth of the draconic phallus was easily twice his usual. He felt so huge and powerful, just seeing that thick cock pressing from his groin! The skin tingled, taut around its thickness. His mound tented, pulled by the cock inside, the burning so intense.

His cock ripped open.

He whimpered at the release, his... yes, his big draconic cock snapped out fully from the constraint in a splatter of blood as he staggered unsteadily. For the first time ever he felt himself erect fully. It was good. A solid, virile weight. The texture of the glans and shaft stood out, ridges poking through his pubic flesh. It felt so good to be out, and hard! A clenching flex shot through his hips and a spout of precum splattered against the crucifix over the bed.

The limp skin dangling around his cock didn't hurt so much as itch. Oh how it itched, his useless old cock itched. His fingers itched. He flexed his hands and in a blissful shiver of itch-fulfillment, found thick, sharp claws protruding from the tips. He easily gripped the split and bleeding flesh of his groin. From perinum to mound the claws dug in, soothing the itch. Yesss... with a surprizingly gentle pull he ripped it off, balls, cock skin, and all. Damn, that felt good! He opened his mouth wide, and the itch of his face was soothed as his cheeks ripped. He shoved the flesh into his mouth. The blood was delicious, the texture rare. It cut easily on his sharp teeth.

"Dios Mio! Es un diablo!" the boy gibbered.

But now his vision was obscured, he couldn't see! A rake and pull with his claws yanked the itching, obscuring flesh from his face, eyes blinking double with two membranes. He breathed deeply and it was good. The boy had scrambled back into the corner of the room, eyes wide as saucers, crossing himself with one hand while his other gripped his crucific pendant.

Adam didn't care. He was so hot, and god, the itching! Gulping down his face, he went for his lower back. A sink and pull and he felt the thick stub of his tail. Of course, thats what itched there! He exultantly clawed at his flesh where it itched. Blood splattered as he yanked strips free, leaving dripping gashes lower back. It was loosest and itchiest in the front. He stripped the shedding skin away from his front. It came off in chunks and strips, sticky against the hard scales beneath. Chunks were jambed it into his maw as fast as he could rip them off. Every swallow was like a pump, making his body flare with heat, maing him feel bigger and stronger.

He couldn't believe how good it felt to finally be rid of the itching. He tasted so good, like steak and cake. Damn he was so horny! He stroked his big cock with a fistful of flesh in one clawed hand, ripping at his forearm with the other. His scales still itched where the flesh stuck to him. It came free with a burst of intense burn and then blissful cool. The cieling fan glanced off his head, dislodging its drive belt. He ignored it. A thick tail waved behind him, balancing him as it grew. He stuffed his mouth over and over, swallowing eagerly. His swelling legs split the skin of his thighs and calves, he stripped off the flesh. He wrested the bothersome skin off one foot and ankle in a big chunk with a slorch, blood splattering across the room. It slid down his throat delightfully. Yes, so GOOD! He flexed his powerful foot claws, digging them into the floorboards. He twisted and pulled the other still covered foot, to his mouth, the thick foot-claws already perforating it. His teeth and tongue sucked the itching skin off his leg easily. Much better. Short horns poked through burning points at his forehead.

He pulled his hair off, scalping himself without a thought. He twisted and grabbed, ripping the flesh from his shoulders, bunching it up and snarfing it down. He grabbed, ripped, gulped. His tongue snaked out, long and powerful, grabbing and pulling where he couldn't reach easily, cleaning the blood that dripped down his scales. He stood, half-stooped in the low cielinged room, tail flexing behind him to balance. He panted, chest heaving. That was it. He Felt Glorious. The itching was gone. He grinned, panted, looking around. He had made a royal mess - blood was everywhere. The bed, the floor, splattered up the walls, even on the now stopped cieling fan. There was a splatter of gore across the boy's brown flesh where he trembled in the corner.

He was still crossing himself desperately, eyes locked on the dragon-man panting hard in the center of the room.

Adam spoke, his voice unexpectedly deep and commanding. Now was the time. "En la cama." he said, pointing to the bed.

"no me muerte" the boy whined, "tienes hermanas, los necessitame para la comida!"

"solo sexo, no muerte. Cama." Adam ordered again, showing his many sharp teeth.

The boy moved to the bed and Adam pounced. It was so easy to move. With merely a thought he lept, gripping the boy firmly, spinning and laying him out on the bed. One more flex and his twtching phallus was planted against his pucker. His tongue snaked out with barely a thought, slurping the gore from his body. The feeling of his cock sinking into the yielding flesh was pure ecstacy. He closed his eyes, tail lashing joyfully as he plowed into him. Something hit his tail and fell over with a clatter, probably the dish and pitcher on the table. God the ass was tight around his big cock. And he could feel every milimeter of his insides, as he could with his tongue. The familiar lump of his prostate, the ripples of the muscles along his walls. The muscles clenched, squeezing. He thrusted deep, and felt an electric buzz that drove through his brain as the ridges pressed into the boy's flesh.

The boy came again, from somewhere finding more white seed to dribble down the side of the helplessly spasming cock. Adam matched him jet for clench. The deep need that had been building for so long finally found some vent with each of the contractions around him. But all too soon, it faded. He had more... but without the clenching ass it wasn't going to flow. He sniffed at the boy. The boy was out cold, drenched in sweat.

Adam drew his cock out of the stretched ass with a rude slorch. He did feel better. Much better. He retracted his penis without even thinking as the immediacy of his arousal waned. But he would need to find more soon. He stretched and turned to the shower, claws thumping against the still bloody floorboards. He was still feeling a bit sticky, a nice hot shower was in order. Didn't that boy say he had sisters? Normally the thought would revolt him, but it had a certain eager appeal to his new body just now...

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