Category: Fiction

Sometimes I write short stories.

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Lost Summoner (Drabble)

Decorations rattled from the boom of suddenly displaced air. A figure appeared in the hallway across from the study. Her eyes met a dragoness on a couch, looking back with a neutral expression. “Where am I? Are you a demon?”

“My home. And it depends on where you are from, summoner.. However, I do enjoy collecting lost souls.” She smirked, “You seem a little lost.” The dragon stood slowly, tasting the fear radiating from her visitor.

The figure held her ground as the dragoness approached, smile growing wider, “Want to make a deal, my dear?”

“What kind of a deal?”

Drabble is a form of extremely short storytelling, where you are limited to exactly 100 words.

(This post was randomly blocked from archival by Internet Archive, so I made another version of it here.)

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Pocket Dragon (Furry NSFW Fiction)

A short work involving anthropomorphic canid characters and a dragon. Inspired by these images (but not directly based on them).

Kinks: furries, size-difference, transformation, vore.

It was just three of us, but we partied like a frat house. At some point I’d been dared to make myself 5 inches tall instead of 5 feet tall. Yeah, I was a little short for my girls, yet alone a dragon, and that was before the dare.

Well, I say my girls, but really I was theirs. A curse had bound me to Leslie, she was the black canine of indeterminate pedigree. Big floppy ears, a wolfish muzzle, but her voice was all fox. Anise was her best friend, a fennec who had to be gagged when her mate came to visit for a night or two.

So there I was, 5 inches tall thanks to Anise, and very very slowly realizing that the alcohol content in my blood did not shrink with the rest of me. If I were any other species, I’d have been dead already, fortunately dragons are a little harder to poison.

After recovering from a fit of giggles, Leslie looked a little concerned. “You okay there-” a snort, “lil.. little guy?” I’d already passed out, still standing.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up with my snout in a small warm divot on a large silky rug of some- I looked up, seeing the hills of my Leslie’s breasts and her face looking back down at me. The divot was her belly button. I blushed, there was a faint scent of musk in there from when she made me paint her with cum, and she hadn’t washed quite enough to remove it all. I got up onto my knees.

“Hey.. C’mere draggie.” Her hand, slightly larger than me, brushed against my back. The force of it knocked me right back over, dizzying me further.

Before I could react, her hand picked me up and pushed me under the hem of her panties. I immediately noticed that she was in only her panties, and the strong scent of alcohol-fueled arousal.

“C’mon dra.. draggie. Come in.. inside.” She gasped as her clumsy movements brushed my rough exterior against her bowling ball-sized clit. An involuntary movement pushed me harder against it, and my legs and tail were enveloped by sticky, puffy labia.

It was far more pleasurable at this scale than I expected, like being caressed by velvet.. that also happened to be a little too humid. The smell got a lot stronger as I felt her open up slightly to accept more. She finished shoving me inside with a moan and I was nearly folded in half in the process.

I took a moment to rest, breathing heavily in a way that made the all-encompassing pink walls around me quiver and further moisten. Thank goodness I didn’t need air for a while, especially at this smaller size, or I could have been in serious danger.

Grasping around – more than a little unsure of where I was with my level of intoxication – I must’ve found a sensitive spot as the walls of my cave trembled and squeezed me tighter. A muffled squeal came from deep within, and the squirt of lubrication that followed tried to drown me.

I don’t remember much after that, the lack of oxygen and booze enough to make me pass out again.

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Chocolate (Drabble)

(This post has been imported from an old blog of mine.)

Dark brown stains led down the hallway, a sticky substance showing the path my victim took. The stench of blood rose into the air. I followed the trail, heard ragged breathing from behind the closet door.

He tried to lunge for my knife as I exposed his hiding place, but the furry paws of a teddy bear are not very strong. I stabbed down, and more dark liquid poured from his wounds.

The sound of police sirens came from somewhere in the distance, I grabbed an arm and squeezed the blood into a container before running. Chocolate is so good.

Drabble is a form of extremely short storytelling, where you are limited to exactly 100 words. I wrote this one a long time ago.

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The Death of Me (Fiction)

(This post has been imported from an old blog of mine. Warning: Contains graphic descriptions.)

Somewhere in the distance I see her eyes, glowing green in the darkness. “Tes!” I call out for her, but she is already gone. I stand in the swirling black, watching the pine trees around me sway in the winds.

The world slowly rips apart, brightening and darkening in an erratic fashion. I know what is going to happen next, it happens the same way every time. A glowing white doorway opens in front of me.

I reach out, silently asking for help. A shadow comes to the doorway from the other side. Their eyes briefly show in clarity, an extremely pale blue. Then everything starts to fade, and the shadow’s eyes turn red.

I fall to the floor, and feel the stab wounds on my back. I reach for the doorway, seeing light reflect off of my hand. My hand is wet. With my other hand, I feel for where my guts were a moment ago.

I try to ask for help, but my throat only lets out the sound of a weak gargle. I taste bitter salt, my own blood and bile rising up. I feel ice water dashed across the back of my head, my face slams into the ground. It is concrete.

The cinder-block slides off of the back of my head. I wonder how I can withstand this much pain, and die.

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Feathers (Fiction)

(This post has been imported from an old blog of mine.)

I opened the door to my room, entered, threw my backpack on the floor, kicked the door shut, and fell to my bed. I lay face-down for a minute, thinking about how my day went, wondering if the school had called my parents yet for ditching half my classes again.

They hadn’t said anything to me when I came in, but that really didn’t mean anything. They were probably too mad to say anything to me about it. I’d really hear it from them later though, I knew that for sure.

I got up again, feeling the slight rush of fresh air after being buried in a pillow. I looked down at my bed, at the small feather laying there. At first I wasn’t sure how to react. Some times were good, some bad.

I started looking around my room, to see if anything was missing or out of place. I had cleaned up pretty well, so this had to mean someone had been in here. I double-checked the window, there was no way some random bird had gotten in.

The last time had only been earlier today, what was this for? Did someone come in here while I was being distracted? Or were they coming after me again this evening? Was it from my friends, or from those who tried to kill my friends?

I thought they didn’t know me – or at least if they did, they had left me alone. I hadn’t done anything to them. I barely knew they existed. It was only when- I stopped myself, shuddering at the thought. No one should die that way.

I was knocked out of my thoughts by the window breaking and a large stone flying into the side of my head. Everything went blurry, and for a moment I didn’t know who I was or what I was. I felt dizzy.. Had ice water been thrown down the side of my face?

I managed to stand up after a minute, and backed into the door to my room. I stumbled to the side and pulled it open. I made it down the hallway and into the bathroom. The mirror showed blood streaming down my face, staining my shirt.

Then everything went black.