The Horde (Fiction, Size Diff, Hetro, Monstergirl)
It’s a shame that Darian wasn’t as smart as he was deft of hand. For then perhaps the cutpurse wouldn’t be hanging upside down as his mind raced towards how long he had to live.
The life of a thief was never easy, true. Yet Darian had carved a path all his own. A pivot of the heel and a smile had kept his knife sheathed and his skin unbruised. Rare was the day he chose to pick pockets anymore-there were far too many unsatisfied noblemen’s wives for that. But it was his confidence that had led him to the cave despite his fence warning him of the dragon. Confidence had a horrible way of making men assume they were far smarter than they truly were. In Darian’s case, that assumption was a gross overestimation.
He’d known better than to fail listening to Lothar, the mountain of flesh that composed his fence. The old one-eyed bastard had never steered him wrong-and was as honest a man as could be had in their profession. Though even as Lothar shook his head speaking of the heat and the danger and the pitfalls of going after an untapped wealth, the fence knew what he was doing. Darian was his best client after all-a haul for the rogue meant a haul for the fence. Darian had kept his tongue still as Lothar mentioned nobody had returned, slamming his tankard on the wood countertop as he drained it.
“Well, they aren’t I, now are they old timer? Why, that sounds simple. In and out, right?” said Darian, his old smirk peeling across his lips.
Lothar took a deep breath as he swiped the tankard and pulled a rag from his shoulder. As he scrubbed the inside of it, he let out a sigh that echoed in the empty bar that moonlighted other operations. “Aye lad, but a single wrong step-and yer up in flames. Don’ ye seek a long life? Mayhap a lady friend, some children?”
“Gods no,” replied Darian, letting out a belly laugh. “A family is an anchor you can’t shake, and for thieves that’s a weight none can bear. ‘Sides, I’ve no doubt my share of bastards over the realm. Seeds just as rotten as the ones I grew from. Why face what wickedly grew in my absence?”
Lothar opened his mouth to say something, shut it, then lifted a finger to point at the rogue. “That’s a load o’ shite and you know it. Yer a good lad Darian. Tavern would be boring wit’out ye. So come back, at the least. Can you do that for me?”
“Oh, you’d miss me that much? It’s the lyre playing, isn’t it?” said Darian as he placed a hand over his heart. To this, Lothar finally pelted out a laugh of his own.
“Lords above lad, absolutely not. But ye’ jokes and kindness? Aye, I’d miss that quite a bit,” said the fence.
Darian snorted, and tapped the counter. The fence poured him more grog, and tossed the rag over his shoulder. As the rogue lifted the glass to his lips, he paused. “So, a dragon you say? That can’t be right. Why, I’ve never so much as seen a single wing in the sky,”
Lothar shrugged as his massive arms crossed his chest. “Aye, a dragon. ‘Lest that’s what I’ve heard. Apparently the whole hole of that gash in the earth radiates heat. Could be anything kin, but there’s plenty o’ talk of strange noises ‘rupting from there at all hours. And ‘sides, ye’ve seen the fae folk haven’t ye? Doth one not imply the other lives and breathes?”
Darian grimaced, but if it was caused by the grogg or the fence’s words only he could say. He let out a sputter and put a finger up as he cleared his throat. “That was different. How was I supposed to know that was Queen Mabb?”
The fence rolled his eyes and tilted his head. “Aye lad, by her fuckin’ wings maybe?”
“Silk wings were in fashion at the time!” spat back the rogue.
“Aye, may that be true. But she worked magic on ye?” said Lothar with a grin.
“Only to keep me ere-dancing. Gods, those fae and their dancing-”
“Oy, and what o’ the centaur folk in the verdant woods o’ the lords domain?” said Lothar, his grin wide as he eyed Darian.
Darian nearly choked as he slammed his tankard down and jabbed a finger towards the fence. “That was different too!”
Lothar let out an enormous laugh, and said “Aye! Different indeed, but nothin’ a milk stool couldn’t fix fer ye’ and she, aye laddy?”
Darian’s face grew hot as Lothar laughed so hard his face turned red. The rogue grimaced and crossed his arms, and waited until Lothar was gasping for air at his own joke. Darian took a deep breath, and lifted a palm towards the barkeep.
“A map, if you’d kindly?” said the rogue, his tone flat.
Lothar-wiping the tears from his eyes and still chuckling-pulled a quill from behind his ears. He giggled as he drew the way on a scrap piece of paper near the bottles, and handed it over. He let out the last of his chuckles and took a deep breath. He looked up once more at Darian as his humor dropped for all of a moment.
“Just, please kin. Be careful. No gold in all the worlds is worth an early grave. Savvy?” said the fence.
Darian nodded as he looked over the paper, and folded it. He tucked it into his belt and shot a hand forward, one that looked miniscule in the barkeep’s own. “Keep the grog flowing for me?”
Lothar snorted, and gave a nod. “Aye, ye’ve a tab to pay! Of course I will,”
With a twist and smile so practiced it came effortlessly, Darian leapt off his stool and was out the door, wrapped in the shadows of the night with only the moon to guide him.
@@@
Oh, what eagerness he had possessed. What self assurance of his own cunning he clung to. Even as he approached the dark gash in the earth, Darian had been so incredibly sure of himself. He’d faced worse just on the road to get here-how much trouble could a dragon be, really? His footfalls had been so quiet upon the slick ebony rock none would have noticed. His hands were deft as he checked for traps. There wasn’t a single one-yet the heat around him grew in palpable discomfort as he descended. He slipped from his clock, his shirt and even his breeches. Upon him he kept a single cloth bag and a lithe blade at his neck. Of little threat to anyone, it had been his trusty tripwire cutter for years.
Any rogue worth his salt had one. Darian certainly was that-salty, mind. Sweat beaded down his brow into his eyes and lips as the cavern took him into the bowels of the earth. The heat was all around him, a wet wool blanket of discomfort that dulled his wit. Perhaps that’s why the moment he saw the glow of the antechamber he made the one mistake he loathed to make on jobs.
He ran right towards the mark.
To put a measure on the wealth would do little but dull the enormity of it. Gold glittered like a lake, punctuated with stones the size of Darians head. A madness struck him then, one like he hadn’t felt since his first major score. As his feet moved like manic pistons towards the horde, the idea of what a single sack of this could do for him filled every limb. He could pay off his tab at Lothar’s!
Hells, he could buy Lothar’s!
On and on the rogue went as his boots scored over slick rock and coin. A laughter bubbled up from the back of his throat as he hugged the closest pile. He tried to hold it in check, but it escaped all the same. An uproaring noise of insane joy it was, one that echoed throughout the antechamber. He laughed and laughed as he rolled in the pile. Coins cascaded over his skin, his hair, his fingers. He didn’t give much thought to why such a thing would happen. What’s more, why the entire mound shook and began to move. Darian had never been very good at that. Thinking.
Not until it was far too late.
A bellowing snort came from behind him, one that sent coins scattering to the far reaches of the room. Darian paused, his mouth agape in a massive grin as his mind wracked for what might have made that noise. He’d been so caught in his pre-destined purchases that any idea of the hideos, ominous lizard that could incinerate him to dust had fled from his mind. Until another snort came with such a gust it sent the rogue straight to his feet, crashing back into a reality that was far less glamorous than his life to come.
If he made it that long.
Darian didn’t know much about dragons, save that they were big, terrifying and scary. They were also fond of freshly cooked food. That was enough to have kept him from jobs like this in the past, far away from anything even resembling a mountain. He cast his gaze down at the coins gathered round his feet, and took a deep breath.
Perhaps the wyrm had only moved in it’s slumber. Yes, that’s it. There’s no possible way I woke the beast he thought. It was a foolhardy idea, he knew. But as he had with others, Darian lied to himself. He assumed it was okay to turn, to perhaps face his scaled adversary. He did so by degrees, so slowly even the stoic monks in town would have grown impatient. His mind raced over swaths of images. Scales as big as shields, horns that could gore a man in twain, and-
TITS.
Darian blinked, and lifted his hands to rub his eyes. He slapped his face for good measure. If any water had been ready, he no doubt would have dumped the entire basin over his head. He blinked several more times as warmth flooded his cheeks, and he lifted his gaze over the delicately scaled mounts of flesh before him.
Oh, those most certainly were breasts. And a large, soft tummy. Thighs thick as boulders. Atop this overpowering checklist of intimidation was a soft, brown face frocked by red hair. The beast was hardly that-and as her emerald eyes centered on him, her nostrils flared. Smoke curled around its face as a massive clawed hand lifted from the horde, and the dragon rested it’s chin upon it. It’s lips curled as it’s eyes cinched shut, and it emitted a yawn that shook the cavern and sent coins flying. Darian felt his hair fly back-and what was left of his undergarments gave way with it’s faulty stitching. Clad in only his boots and the thin blade around his neck, something dawned on Darian in that moment that made his stomach clench.
Small. I am very, very fucking small. Oh gods above, please grant me some measure of peace, make it qui-
The beast-in name only-opened its eyes once more. They settled on Darian with a radiant beauty that made the rogue’s entire body go rigid.
Every part.
Gods, how embarrassing.
The dragon resettled upon its gold piles and leaned forward. A wave of riches piled around Darian’s ankles, and he had to keep in a continuous high step to keep from being buried. All the while is cock smacked against his belly-which made the beast laugh in a timbre that sounded like a honeyed choir.
Darian glanced up, the sweat on his brow doubled what it had been as he had descended. The beast smiled and snorted massive plumes of gray smoke. It parted it’s lips, and rolled it’s tongue over it’s scaled lips.
“You must be the delivery boy,” it said, every syllable more sultry than the last. For a long moment, Darian didn’t know what to say. Yes, the words made sense, and were in his common tongue. But what did-
“I-I’m sorry?” he sputtered, his voice so soft by comparison to the beauty before him. The dragon lifted a massive palm, and dragged its talons across it’s chest in an errant scratch. It’s brow furrowed as it tilted it’s head, sending a crimson river of curls cascading over it’s shoulders.
“The…delivery boy? The king sends one every so often? The last one wasn’t any fun at all. But you-you’re going to be quite a bit of fun aren’t you?” it said, voice bellowing within the chamber.
“I- ” started Darian, “I-I suppose that I could entertain you ma’am, if that’s what’s required. I wasn’t uh-hah! I wasn’t given instructions as to my cause exactly?” said the rogue. A practiced smile pelled across his lips as a hand met his hip. The same tactic had worked on the nobility, so surely it would-
The dragon guffawed, and the gold piles behind it shook as a copper-colored tail rose. Massive and huge, it gave a calamitous thump as it hit the gold beneath it. The dragon leaned forward, and extended it’s enormous palm towards Darian. He stood stock still, hoping for not a single movement to betray the truth of his own terror.
“Well, go on then. Can’t very well leave you there, can we?” she said with an arch of her brow. Darian swallowed hard as he glanced at the dragon’s palm-but moved forward, gold coins crunching beneath his boots. He slipped between the dragon’s fingers, and seated himself upon her palm. The scales beneath him were rigid-but far more comfortable than he would have ever imagined.
He was still hard. By the gods, why was he hard?!
The dragon shifted as it brought him close, her massive face magnitudes more beautiful in the glowing light of the horde. She smiled as she eyed him, revealing scores of teeth like bastard swords.
“Rise. Let me get a look at you all over. And come closer to me. I want to feel your warmth,”
Darian-his eyes fixed upon the massive teeth-quickly as the large, terrifying (in a way he had never anticipated) dragoness asked. He stood tall, his spine iron as he goose-stepped towards her.
Only for her mouth to widen and a massive pink tongue flick all over his body. The first time he merely stood there, the horror that befell him far too strong to will his muscles to do anything. But then the second lick came, and he couldn’t help the moan that escaped his lips. Her tongue was so warm and massive against his body, so slick. His cock throbbed against it as the third lick came, and the dragoness simply laughed.
“Oh, you’ll do quite nicely. Quite nicely indeed,” she said as she rolled, the clamor of scattering coins washing the rogue in a wave of sound that sent him to his feet. The dragoness came to rest upon her back. She tilted her palm-and dropped Darian right between her massive, full breasts. Her clawed hands went to the top of her chest and rolled over them. They jiggled with such a rolling fury that standing at all was to be impossible.
So Darian didn’t. He did however bite his lip as he watched the dragoness tugged her nipples, a smirk rolling across her face.
“Aye, uh. Miss? What exactly does a delivery boy do?” he said.
The dragon smiled, and tilted her head. “Keep me entertained. And you intend to do that, don’t you my sweet? Grip your cock for me. Let me watch you,”
“I-what?!” stammered Darian.
“I said, let me watch you pleasure yourself. That’s quite a girthy member you have there. I want to see you splatter release all over me. Please?” she said, her smile widening once more.
Darian blinked, but rose to his feet. His hands gripped his member, the slayer of so many noble households. He swallowed, and began to tug slowly as he stared the dragoness in the eye.
“I-hah!-I’d like to know your name, i-if that’s alright miss?” he stuttered as his balls slapped against his knuckles. The dragoness chuckled, a deep roiling sound that shook her entire body.
“Bathsheba. And you, my pet?”
“D-darian, I’m Darian,” replied the rogue, pumping into his two fisted grip.
Bathsheba inhaled, and tugged her massive nipples once more as her legs parted. As she grew comfortable beneath him, her gaze fixed, she laughed once more.
“Well then. Darian. What a nice name. You and I are going to enjoy each other so much, aren’t we?”
“I s-suppose, ma’am. I suppose we will,” he replied. Darian eased himself down, never taking his hands from his cock. Bathsheba rolled a hand from her breast between her thighs, her soft gasps enveloping his own as her fingers began to rub…
@@@
Lothar had the shock of a man who just heard a beloved family member was dead or that it was the best day of his life. Often in the village, it was one and the same-but the response he gave was anything but normal. He shoved the gold back towards Darian, his head wagging defiance before Darian could even speak.
“Laddy, o’ gods no. I’ve no idea whomst ye’ slain to acquire it and I don’t care-but, I can’t accept. Oh gods above, this is far too much for this shitehole and ye’ know it, I-”
“Hey Lothar?” said Darian, the tankard in his grip delicious as it met his lips. He drank the grog deep, his tongue appreciating the salty brine of it for the first time in months.
“Aye, Lad?” responded the barkeep as his eyes darted between the gold and the rogue.
The tankard hit the countertop with a heavy thud. Darian wiped his lips on the back of his bracer, and smiled.
“You’re the best fucking man I have ever met in my life. Yes, I’ll own the bar. But it’s still yours. All the way. Nothing will change. And there’s more where this comes if the need arises. Okay?”
Lothar parted his lips to speak, then shut them. He looked back down at the gold, and took a deep breath.
“This ain’ no blood money, izzit kin? Ye’ didn’t harm nobody to get it, did you?” said the barkeep.
“Nope, not a soul. You know me,”
“Aye, I knew ye’. But-” said the barkeep as a trembling hand met his brow.
“Lothar, take the money. And I am to have no tab ever again. Deal?” said Darian, his brow raised. He pointed at his tankard, and Lothar stood there for a long moment just looking at the glass.
Then the barkeep rounded the corner, and marched towards Darian. By the time his massive arms were around him and Darian’s feet were dangling, he was laughing.
“Aye, you fuckin’ arse, you right fuckin’ nonce,” he said. Darian laughed, and clapped an arm over his shoulder. Lothar sat him back upon the stool, and tapped the wood countertop.
“An my first renovation is gonna be this. Marble, I tell ye’! Marble countertops the whole way! Oh, and a paintin’ or two! Gods, we can make the place real classy now couldn’t we?” said the barkeep, his eyes wide as he looked all about him. He turned back to Darian as his hands clapped together.
“Oy, lad. Ye’ know any bands that’d like steady work?”
Darian laughed, and gave a shrug. “Maybe, but uh. Lothar, I need one more thing?”
Lothar crossed his arms, his smile warm and huge as he nodded. “Aye, anything ye’ need la-Boss, I mean boss!”
Darian almost didn’t say it. But, truth be told-he really did need it. After all, he had a new line of work he had to keep up.
He lifted his head, and with a smirk that had slain thousands said “A ladder. The biggest gods damn ladder you can find,”