Chapter Two: Roll that Performance Check

        Merton felt like he was wearing the most heavily armed wedding cake in the universe. His arms were thrust outwards and his legs were spread, and he simply stood perfectly still as intersecting layers of highly complex nanomachines and magical circuitry flowed around his limbs like thick, taffy esque water. He looked down at the billowy, white material, then over at the bald elf and the four armed scantily clad purple dominatrix slash science person who seemed to handle all the fancy gizmos on this spaceship.

        To think today had started off so normal . He had been going about his business, firmly sure that dragons and space empires were the realm of fiction. Now, he was on a draconic spaceship, betrothed to a woman he had met twice, and being dressed for a banquet to snub one of her former suitors.

        And, from the specifications he had heard, for potential battle .

        Also said suitor was also a dragon.

        Also, so was his betrothed.

        “The smart clothing is tasting your soul,” the purple woman said. “Hold still, we don’t want it to get confused. Calibrating for a mage-blind is like calibrating for someone without skin. Or bones.”

        “How comforting,” Merton said, his voice tight. The orange tabby cat - seeming to care as much for draconic security as it did for human whims - pawed around near Merton’s feet. Merton would have petted it, but he dared not move. The cat seemed to recognize he was helpless and began to knead at his shin, the tiny prick prick prick of its claws sending shooting pain through Merton’s body.

        “Before the dinner begins,” the bald elf said.

        “Wait,” Merton said, his voice vice tight as he tried to distract himself. “What’s your name?”

        “Thuwit,” he said, lifting his chin and puffing up his somewhat flabby chest as if he was on parade. “Seneschal of House Castrovel, tutor to the Princess Relix, Master of Assassins.” He pulled some glowing blue liquid to his lips via a clear plastic vial and sucked it all down with clear relish. He shuddered, licked his lips, then continued: “Slave-trained and chem-gelded on the pits of Torel, I survived ten years in the Blood Pits, five years in the Red Scholarium, and two at court as adjunct to Lord Dagon of the Fifth Circle of the Obsidian Eye, who himself served the Prismatic Emperor himself.”

        Merton nodded. “Right, got it, Thufir.”

        “Thuwit!” Thuwit snapped.

        “That’s what I said. Thufir.” Merton grinned, his knees nearly collapsing with relief. The cat had gotten bored and fucked off.

        “Maybe I did pick an imbecile after all,” Thuwit muttered to the purple skinned woman.

        “You haven’t read Dune ?” Merton asked.

        A red warning light flashed on behind the purple skinned woman. She turned to face it, her lower arms tapping at control crystals. She looked back at Merton, her voice severe. “Please,” she said. “Refrain from humor.”

        “Does it screw with the smart clothes?” Merton asked.

        “Yes,” she said. “Due to being mage-blind, it may misconstrue humor as a request for immediate exsanguinatative relocation.” She looked severe.

        Merton coughed. “R-Right. So. Thuwit. My name is Merton Miles.”

        Thuwit waited a few beats. “And?”

        “That’s it,” Merton said. “Merton Miles. Oh! Sorry, Merton Briggs Miles. My middle name was chosen by rolling on a random name table in an old edition of the FASA Mechwarrior game.”

        “I said refrain from humor!” the purple skinned woman said, her voice shifting from serious to utterly dire.

        “I am!” Merton exclaimed.

        Thuwit rubbed a finger along his temple. He licked his silvered lips and started to pace backwards and forwards, turning on his heel every time he reached one of the curved walls of the room. Merton’s arms were starting to ache. The idea of lowering them felt decidedly suicidal. He gritted his teeth.

        “We need something more,” he said. “What accomplishments have you completed in your short, pitiful, mage blind life?”

        Merton racked his brain.

Once more, his girlfriend came to his rescue. Even if she was currently in a transformation chamber, completing what had been a long, long, long time coming. He smiled at Thuwit.

“Okay...” he said. “Where to start ... ”

***

        The doors to the banquet hall on The Rad Baron’s solar palace opened with a blare of fanfare, played with traditional red dragon pigheadedness. It was brash and overpowering and hammered into the ears like the lance of a lightspeed charger. Relix bore it with stoic disdain and wished she could get away with a bit of shape-shifting. But shifting your form, even minutely, was a great way to begin a quiet war of subtle murder attempts. In fact, it’d be less provoking to be super obvious in your shifting. A subtle shift could add some tiny poison glands to your fingertip, or a biological flechette channel into your arm. Big shifts, like from humanoid to fully draconic forms, were less quietly dangerous.

        But...still dangerous. Since in her full dragon form she was thirty feet long from nose to tail and breathed plasma hotter than the surface of the sun that filled the windows.

        Despite that the temptation to make her ears vanish was overpowering.

        At last, though, the trumpets faded and the hundred and twenty one banner bearers who held aloft the plumes and flags of the Singularity Principality – with its swirling accretion disk done in red dyed fabric and the blaze of hawking radiation done in colors most races couldn’t see, forming an eye slit like a dragon’s pupil in the heart of the symbolic black hole – stepped back with a rattle and crash of boots and smashing onyxwood flagpoles.

        This formed a straight avenue to The Red Baron’s table. He was seated there – as big as he could be while still remaining vaguely humanoid – and to his left sat his fifty six concubines, each one a different race, each one wearing a collar and absolutely nothing else. To his right were the few members of the House Thresh that lived on this backwater. There was Gimtesh Thresh, a half-dragon, half-elf who looked as if she ritually starved herself (in truth, her pinched expression was just a feature of a personality that could shatter entire planets.) And next to her was a large black egg with a bow-tie affixed gently onto the top.

        Ugh.

        She hated dining with babies . They were always so messy .

        Next to her, Merton had actually done a halfway respectable job in fancying himself up. He was dressed in proper smart clothes, which had been reformatted into a suit and tie that struck her as understated, but fashionable. The multicolored gemstones in the tie, the golden color of the smart-fibers, the rainbow cufflinks. All quite demure. She nodded subtly to herself, even as Merton adjusted his collar and muttered under his breath.

        “When do we enter?”

        “Once we’re announced, fiancee .” Relix slipped her arm through the crook of his arm and nestled close to him. He drew himself up and pressed against her and Relix found another thing to appreciate: He was warm . Humans were delightfully exothermic! Who knew? Well, humans must have, but who cared what they thought? They were mage-blind.

        “Announcing the glorious Princess Relix Castrovel of the Third Talon of the Spinward Front of the Chromatic Arm of the Galaxy, Mistress of Fifty Thousand Worlds, Protector of the Dragon Maw Nebula, and Scourge of Pirates,” a humanoid man with pale green skin, of a race Relix didn’t care to recall the name of, boomed out. He was reading from a gilded scroll, and looked rather at ease and then his brow furrowed as he found the scroll unfurled, and unfurled more, and finally, touched the ground at his feet. His reading went slower as he leaned his head forward. “And her husband to be...”

        Merton whispered something that sounded an awful lot like: Heeeere we go.

        “Merton the Merciless, Emperor of Mongo, Ruler of Moldavia, Scourge of Carpathia. Galor of Ghosts, Prophet to Goblins, Builder of Dungeons, Friend to Dragons and to Children. Savior of Kharak and Hiigara...” he paused. “Adjunct to the Lady of Pain, YISUN and Zardoz. Mechwarrior and Mechcommander, Chapter Master of the Salamanders and Rogue Trader of his Holy Majesty of Glorious Terra. Smiter of the Swarm, the Horde, the Undead Scourge of Azeroth...” He paused again. “Champion of Hadley’s Hope, CEO of the Weyland-Yutani Corporation, and...” He had worked his way almost all the way down the scroll. “...and...Master...of Orion.”

        Silence filled the hall.

        The Red Baron slowly set down his goblet – he had taken a sip near the beginning of the announcement and had slowly stopped as the list went on and on and on and on. He stood, then laughed. “We have a world eater here! Come! Let me get an eye on you!”

        “Oh wonderful ,” Gimtesh muttered, her snide voice carrying all the way to Relix’s aching ears. “This dinner conversation is going to be fascinating .”

        They came to their seats and sat down. Merton’s brow furrowed as he looked at the egg with the bowtie. He looked at Relix, mouthing confusion at her. She shook her head subtly. Then the Red Baron clapped his hands and waiters swept forward. Soon, the table was cluttered with normal red cuisine. There was a whole wild boar, who was snuffling at the table settings, stepping past goblets, large furry tail flipping from side to side. Merton grabbed his goblet before it got knocked over, showing he knew proper red dragon table manners. Next to the boat were several toughs of elkerian mind-eels.

        The Baron grabbed one with a scaled fist, and the eel started biting impotently at his wrist. He popped it into his mouth and started to chew, the squealing of the eel filling the air as he looked right at Merton.

        Merton, to Relix’ shock, looked back with a kind of cool, casual expression.

        “So!” The Baron growled. “Who was your most difficult enemy to best in single combat, oh world eater.”

        “Sans,” Merton said. “Sans Skeleton.”

        “One of this Undead Horde?” The Baron narrowed his eyes.

        “A freelancer, actually,” Merton said, leaning back in his seat.

        “Uuuugh!” Gimtesh groaned, then breathed a gout of flames onto the boar. The boar cried out, then dropped to the tabletop, knocking a few goblets over, splashing wine onto empty chairs. She reached out and grabbed some still burning boar flesh in her clawed hand, then chomped down on it.

        “My sister lacks an appreciation for the martial arts,” the Baron said, sounding irritated.

        “Well, fortunately, my wife and I think as one,” Merton said, grinning at Relix.

        Relix looked at him. Her brow furrowed. And then she realized...that her husband was actually trying to be something more than just a false front. He was trying to actually be a partner. If she and he got along, the Baron would see no weakness. No place to slide himself into her life and swoop her into his own household. Her heart started to race as she grinned back. “Yesss,” she said. “Should we tell him about, ah, Mongo?”

        “Mongo!” Merton laughed. “Mongo, Mongo, Mongo!”

        “Mongo?” The Baron asked. His veneer of joviality was starting to wear thin. He had grabbed up three more mind-eels, and they were squealing and writhing and chomping at the air and his fingers.

        “It’s how we met,” Merton said. “I was leading a fleet of, oh, five gunships. They’re primitive next to your ships. Fusion torches, no shields, no adamantine armor, no sophisticated magitech other than a few simple light spells, you know.” He waved his hand. “But we were loaded for bear . X-Ray lasers, railguns, tac-nukes...”

        “Don’t forget your drakes,” Relix said, grinning.

        “How could I forget the drakes?” Merton said, taking her hand, then kissing her knuckles. “I used to think they were the most beautiful draconic being in the galaxy...until I met you.”

        Relix flushed . Her hearts started to thump thump faster and faster. Her nipples tingled and she looked aside, grinning despite herself. Merton laughed and kissed her knuckles again. His warm, warm, warm lips were so soft against her scales. Her tail coiled around his ankle under the table – even as Merton looked back at the Baron. “We were in trouble. Mongo was defended by this tin-pot dictator, Ming, and while I had the orbital advantage, they had better heat sinks, since they could tap into the methane lakes. So, I had lost two of my ships when suddenly, this beauty appears...”

        “Youuuu!” Relix squealed.

        “Oh, honey, I meant the Talon-9 ,” Merton said, grinning.

        Relix slapped at his shoulder and Merton laughed.

        The Baron, meanwhile, had gone from pretend jovial, to forcing a smile, to literally crushing his goblet between his fingers while smoke roiled from his snout. He was still sitting there and fuming as Merton wrapped his rather colorful tale of impaling Ming, the former Emperor of Mongo, through the chest with the nose cone of his last remaining sublight fighter. “And, well, I don’t want to brag, but let’s just say that Ming’s daughter cried out a lot that night...but there weren’t many tears ,” Merton said, winking at the Baron.

        Relix chortled, her tail having gone from squeezing Merton’s ankle to wrapping entirely around his calf. Her hand had dropped to caress his thigh. She looked at him and wondered: Had she noticed how handsome he looked? Yes, he had no scales, but at least he wasn’t hairy . Beyond that tuft on his head, but it was quite well managed. And his eyes were the most remarkable shade of chocolate brown. She cocked her head, barely listening as he described the reason why he was called the Galor of Ghosts.

         Dear gods, his eyes are beautiful, she thought. Not just remarkable, not just arresting. They’re honestly beautiful .

        Then Relix sat up, her eyes widening.

        “And then I said: Yes, sir, this man indeed has no genitalia,” Merton said, grinning.

        The Baron snorted, despite himself, while his half-sister threw her head back and let out the most horrifying series of harpy laughs that Relix had ever heard. The egg wobbled from side to side, almost falling off the table with mirth. As the mirth faded, Relix tried to cover her own reaction by picking up a goblet of blood wine and drinking it down. Her throat bobbed – and she missed the warning sign until it was far, far too late.

        “You do tell many good yarns,” the Baron said, his tones light. Airy, even. “But I wonder, how do you handle when facing something more than local brigands and sub-magic pirates?”

        Relix choked on her bloodwine. She coughed, trying to speak, but Merton – too confident by half – said: “I expect I can handle myself.”

        “Shall we see that?” Baron asked. “How do you feel about a gentleman’s wager.”

        “Honey,” Relix said, putting her hand on Merton’s shoulder. Her claws pricked his skin through his smart clothes, trying to get his attention.

        “This is a talk between males, Princess,” the Baron growled, his own claws lifted, his fingers spread.

        Merton’s poker face remained game. He picked up his glass, tipped it back, then set it down. Relix noticed, then, that despite having been doing that the whole meal, the cup had never been even close to empty. Let alone refilled. Merton was picking his battles – blood wine was strong, even for dragons. “What would the terms of the wager be?”

        “Simple,” the Baron said, his voice growing flat. “If you don’t win, I rip your throat out, take your woman, your holdings, your house and your planet.”

        “Is that all?” Merton asked, his dryness only slightly marred by a tiny hint of fear.

        The Baron grinned, wickedly. “If you win...”

        “I get him,” Merton said, nodding to the egg.

        The Baron looked deeply confused. And for just a moment, Relix swore that she saw a flicker of fear in those golden eyes. Which was absurd. Reds didn’t have familial bonds, beyond what could be extorted or manipulated.  “You...want my cousin?” Listening to the confusion in his voice, Relix was assured that what she had seen hadn’t been fear. Just…

        Understandable bafflement.

        “I’m magnanimous,” Merton said, shrugging.

        “Yay!” A muffled voice came from within the egg.

        “Shush, Brash!” Gimtesh hissed.

        “So, are we agreed?” Bex asked. Out of the corner of her eye, Relix could see Merton considering. Strangely, his expression was more concerned as he looked at the egg - which was absurd. It was an egg , not something fragile or helpless. She’d have to talk to him about that later. But, for now, she needed to make sure that he didn’t make this any worse than it already was.

        She leaned her nose close to Merton’s ear, risking a quiet whisper. “Honey, you have to accept. The Baron’s challenged your honor and pride. Pulling back now means that the Baron will think you’re weak and we’ll be up to our snouts in assassins within the day.” Her hand caressed his thigh, as if this was a more sensual caress than a strategic one.

        Merton’s expression shifted into a fierce grin, as if the Baron had just slipped into his trap. “As the challenged party, I chose contests, yes?”

        The Baron shrugged. “Is that the mode among your kind? Very well.”

        Relix felt her belly turn to ice. Bex Thresh might be a braggart and a showboating bully, but he wasn’t the Baron of the Singularity Principalities for nothing. He had been using complex sublight strategic and tactical maneuvers since before he had cleaned off his eggshell. The many black holes of the Principalities meant a great deal of gravitational flux, as well as resource rich accretion disks full of Hawking Pirates and nihilists. He had been dodging railguns, plasma torpedoes, suicide assassin squads and death drones since before he had first gone into heat. Any avenue of conflict, from the strategic to the tactical to the physical…

        All led to disaster.

        “I challenge you to a game of my people – one that reflects the high regard we have for dragons, both Prismatic and Chromatic,” Merton said, then thrust his finger at the Baron. “I challenge you, Baron Bex Thresh of the Singularity Principalities...to DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS !”

        The Red Baron leaned back in his seat. Hardened metal groaned and wood creaked. His scaled hand cupped his narrow snout and smoke roiled from his nostrils. “Is it some kind of strategy game?” he asked, curiously. “Like Gateway?”

        “Uh, kind of,” Merton said, nodding.

         Oh no, no, no, no! Relix thought. Oh, my dear Merton, what have you done !?

        “I accept,” the Red Baron said, grinning broadly.

        Merton beamed.

        And Relix realized she had just called him ‘my dear’ in her head. Not as a falsehood, not as a lie, not as a manipulation. Very quietly, she whispered to herself. “ Drat .”

***

        Merton was feeling like he had been grabbed by a rather large, three headed dog and then wrung through a huge mess of nerd-mashing machinery. His head and shoulders were studded with knots of tension, while his lower back twinged as if he had spent his whole day lifting boxes at the box factory. And the fact that he was still half certain that he wouldn’t live to get out of these smart-clothes before they decided to relocate his blood was just a delicious, terrifying cherry on the top of the longest, most unpleasant dinner conversation he had ever been a part of.

        For one thing, Relix had been really into her act. That was technically a good thing, but it was kind of hard to think of bullshit and spin it into a convincing story when huge boobs were being mashed against your face every other word. Not that Relix was exceptionally stacked, but Merton was judging based off a comparison of the other, vast array of titties that had been mashed into his face.

        I.E, zero. Anything was bigger than zero.

        But there had also been the living food, the fact that the person across the table had been a feudal era psychopath, and the fact that Merton had gotten a good look out the window. The whole freaking palace had been built onto the photosphere of a fucking sun. The entire dinner had been his brain screaming at him about all the manifold ways that they were going to die. But now? Now they were back on the Talon-9 and Merton could-

        “What. Were. You. Thinking !?”

        Relix’s hands grabbed onto his shoulders and she started to shake him. She was roughly the same height as he was, but her muscles were corded with enough strength that Merton was positive he’d get whiplash if she kept that up. But in the moment between the shaking starting and Merton reacting to it, he had the most vivid flashback in his life. It was to him, seated at the table, looking at that egg that Bex had brought out to show off.

That innocent little egg. Holding an innocent little dragon - ready to hatch and be raised by that asshole . Sitting there, looking at the egg, there had been literally nothing that Merton could have wanted more than to save that kid.

There were enough abused kids out there. He was going to go to hell before he let there be another.

Then time snapped back to full speed and Merton felt his head jerking back and forth as he was shook and shook and shook.  He lifted his arms, crying out.

        “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!”

        Relix let him go, panting, her cheeks flushed. Her scales were a glittering silver, so that meant that her blush showed up as a warm blueness that spread along her cheeks. But as he watched, he saw the color shift to red, her frilly hair-feathers lifting up as she made herself look bigger. She stabbed her finger at his chest. This was even scarier than it would have been normally, since her finger came to a wicked, bladed claw-tip.

        “I told you! I told you that he was a tactical and strategic genius! You could have challenged him to Egg, Talon, Tail! Or dice! Something where you’d at least have a chance of winning!”

        “Yeah, like he’d have- wait, Egg, Talon, Tail?” Merton asked, making the mental cultural translation fairly easily. He wondered which beat which. “He’d have respected me if I tried that?”

        “Well. No , but...” Relix’s tail lashed.

        This marital spat was interrupted then by the arrival of Thuwit and a blur of blue hair and nubile flesh. Merton staggered and thumped to the ground as he was hugged so tightly that his clothes hardened and deployed some ablative layers to prevent any danger from energy weapons. The girl who had tackled him looked exactly like how he expected her too. She was slender, with a smallish chest, and a face that hovered somewhere between pixie, elf, and Asian. Her hair was blue and tied back into a pair of long, winding braids that reached down almost to her tiny rump. She was dressed in an incredibly loose T-shirt, which billowed out big enough to almost work as a mumu.

        She...was Julia.

        I.E, Jules, post magically induced gender transformation.

        “Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!” Julia squealed, between kisses and snuggles and licks.

        Merton laughed, winced slightly as the back of his head started to grumble about being mashed into the floor, and patted her on the back. “Uh, it’s...” He squirmed as she licked his neck, then kissed his chin. “Anyone would do it. Cool. Yeah.”

        Julia squeaked as she was grabbed – literally by the scruff of her neck – and lifted off Merton. Relix held her aloft, her eyes narrowing as she eyed the slender, blue haired girl who looked nearly consumed by her T-shirt. The T-shirt, now that Merton could look at it without being distracted by being tackled and licked and thanked profusely, was the same T-shirt that Julia had been wearing when she was Jules. Hence why it was huge on her now.

        “Who is this?” Relix asked, narrowing her eyes as she sniffed at Julia.

        “Uh...” Julia grinned weakly. “I’m...his concubine?”

        “Oh!” Relix looked relieved. “I didn’t realize you’d be biosculpting your household.” She dropped Julie back onto Merton’s lap, making Merton grunt with the impact. Julia might no longer be a two hundred pound black man, but she wasn’t exactly light as a feather.

        “She’s not my-” Merton looked at Julia, then up at Relix. “She’s not my concubine!” He started to stand, trying to keep an arm around Julia at the same time. This ended up being incredibly awkward and nearly finished with both of them faceplanted on the ground. Relix watched the maneuver with a faintly confused expression on her face.

        “And yet, when you said you wanted to bring your concubine and your family and your friends,” Relix said. “And I had my High Magos pluck all of them via a soul-scan of your desires. This former male was one of them.”

        “I was never male,” Julia said, snapping a finger dismissively. “I was just twenty, maybe, fifteen percent less cute.” She giggled and spun on her toe. “Merton, I can dance now! My bum knee’s gone! I feel like I’m fifte-” She coughed. “Er, uh, eighteen again!” She looked left and right, suspiciously. “Anyone who says otherwise is a fucking cop .”

        Merton blinked slightly.

        Relix waved her hand. “Never fear. It is normal for people to have concubines. Why, I had twelve rather strapping orcs until recently,” she said, turning away from him, her tail lashing from side to side as she spoke.

        “What happened to them?” Julia asked, her brow furrowing.

        “Oh, they died,” Relix said, sounding distracted. “I need to make some arrangements.”

        And with that, she was off.

        “Did she mean to imply she killed them, or is she just really good at sounding evil by accident?” Julia asked.

        Merton sagged against the wall. “Honestly, at this point, either answer wouldn’t shock me.” He closed his eyes, groaning. “What the fuck else can go weird today?” He sighed again – then smiled as Julia nuzzled against him, hugging and licking him again.

        Okay. Maybe he could handle this.

***

        “You idiot !” Gimtesh snarled at Bex as the immense red dragon coiled on his pile of golden coins. Bex had, after the dinner party, murdered several of his more annoying house slaves to try and take the edge off his temper. It hadn’t worked. And so, now, he was sitting on a pile of gold, in his largest, most draconic form possible, and was sulking. Well. Gimtesh wasn’t about to let him just sulk . She stood before him, her hands on her hips, her eyes flashing as she continued her invective. “What were you thinking ?”

        “I was thinking that I was dealing with a mage-blind backwoods fool,” Bex snarled, his voice a bass rumble that buzzed through the entire room – it even set the coins to rattling. “And your intelligence operatives said that he would know nothing . And yet, when faced with a challenge, he singled out the only thing that could reveal the plot and have us all up before the Prismatic Thrones on charges of treason . I couldn’t say anything about lest I give a hint that that damn Thuwit might use to have us impaled for !”

        His voice had lifted to a roar then. His body started to move upwards. When a dragon – thirty foot from nose to tail – stood, it was a ponderous thing. Coins cascaded from his back and pattered between his claws like rain. His tail swept to the left and sent more coins scattering across the vast chamber’s floor. His eyes – each nearly as big as Gimtesh’s humanoid form – narrowed as he swung his head to the side, bringing his teeth and snout in-line with Gimtesh. It was meant to be intimidating.

        It was intimidating. Gimtesh forced herself to not gulp.

        “And I think that the old adage of the Black Dragons remains true: Garbage In. Garbage Out . I cannot spin victory out of lies and mud and dung and that was what your spy in the Castrovel household fed me...” Bex growled. “A general needs good information. And if you cannot provide good information, then why shouldn’t I…” his mouth opened. His teeth were very long.

        And very sharp.

        Gimtesh lifted her hands. “Well. Then. I suppose, since you cannot withdraw the egg...then you must simply win.”

        “But I don’t wanna be withdrawn!”

        The plaintive, youthful voice came from the egg itself. It had been wheeled into the room, to rest near the immense magical-focusing apertures that it required to maintain its special properties. Those apertures were normally hidden. Any dragon, any magos, who saw them would start to put the puzzle pieces together and start asking questions. Questions the Thresh household needed to keep buried, as deep as a voidsman corpse in a black hole.

        “ SILENCE !” Bex roared at the egg. A quiet whimper came from within the egg, which shivered and started to roll slightly away from the immense red. Bex swung his head back to face Gimtesh. “I shall win at this Dungeons and Dragons game. I will rip that meddling human’s throat out...” he looked at the egg. “And our little egg will hatch when I say it will...”

        The egg quivered in fear.

        Bex grinned. “And when it does, I shall be the one to take the throne.”

***

        Merton rubbed his temples as Lisa, Carlos, Trevor, and his parents all looked at him. Lisa looked pissed. Carlos looked scared. Trevor looked argumentative. Mom and Dad both looked genuinely concerned. He’d be watching Julia, but she felt like she’d need a crowbar to get her off his back, where she was cuddling against him. And since being held by her felt like the only good thing going for him right now, Merton was okay with this.

        “Let me get this straight,” Mom said, slowly. “If you don’t win this game against this...dragon...we’re all at his mercy?”

        “Basically,” Merton said.

        “Did anyone tell him you can’t win D&D? It has no win condition!” Lisa exclaimed.

        “Oh, that’s very clever!” Dad said, chuckling.

        “No it’s not!” Lisa snarled. “Listen, this guy sounds like an authoritarian dickhead. Do you know what authoritarian dickheads don’t do? Follow the letter of the law when a wily trickster tricks them. No! That’s when the rectal feeding tubes and rubber truncheons come out!”

        “I know, Lisa,” Merton said, rubbing his temples harder. “That’s why we’re not going to play D&D.”

        “What are you going to play, Apocalypse World?” Trevor asked, his voice snide. “Oh! I know! Traveller! Get him killed during chargen, that’ll work.”

        Carlos snickered. “Okay, I know you’re just joking, Trevor, but I am totally down for AW. Or Monsterhearts. Or Broken World! Or Spirit of 77!”

        “Those are all the same fucking game !” Trevor’s voice nearly became a shriek at the last word.

        Merton leaned back into Julia. She nuzzled his neck and whispered in his ear. “I give you permission to take credit for my idea.” She sounded amused. Her teeth gently nipped at his earlobe and Merton felt the many, complicated, confusing feelings that Julia kicked off in him roil around. On the one hand, he loved her. He had loved her since they had met online. But on the other hand, he wasn’t sure how to take the fact that, even after almost two years, she hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him that she was trans.

        “I’m going to send him 4 th  edition,” Merton said.

        “Are you insane ?” Lisa said. “4 th  edition is like playing with fucking kid gloves! Babies can run in 4E and not get killed! Your Mom  could play 4E and I once saw her lose a game of Life !”

        Mom sniffed, looking somewhat insulted.

        Merton grinned, slowly as he sprawled back into the comfortableness that was a snuggle from his girlfriend. “I never said it was 4 th  edition D&D,” he said. “I’m going to send him the PDFs for the 4 th  edition of Hackmaster .”

        Dead silence from his nerd friends. Pure confusion from his parents. And the tabby cat that had been ported up with them walked over to start nosing at his thigh, clearly wanting some kind of pets or treats or tummy rubs. Merton picked the cat up and started to pet his belly.

        “That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Trevor said.

        “Merton, you’re a genius,” Lisa said.

        “Let's meet halfway,” Carlos suggested, his finger thrust into the air. “Idiot savant!”

        Merton lifted his hand, ticking the points off on the fingers. “Firstly, Hackmaster was written as a joke about how killer game-masters see the players as the enemy. It even explicitly makes fun of other game systems saying that roleplaying games aren’t competitive. It states that, to win, players get loads of gold and level up, while the GM wins by killing them. Secondly, Hackmaster is hugely complicated and written in the most obtuse manner possible – again, as a joke . It’ll take Bex the Bastard, what, two weeks just to get it translated, and a week after that to learn it, and a day to make a character. Thirdly, I can run it perfectly fairly and still end up killing his character with a goblin carrying a rusty pitchfork.”

        Lisa bit her lip.

        “Okay, I’ve never played Hackmaster,” Carlos said. “Why is it so complicated?”

        “The roll to determine how effective a critical hit is is an exploding one-dee-eight plus to hit armor class fifteen times negative one plus your base attack bonus plus the enemy AC, cross referenced on one of three one to ten thousand result tables,” Julia said, casually. “And don’t even get me started on Charlatans.”

        “More like Best-a-tans,” Merton murmured, holding out his hand for a high five.

        “Damn straight.” Julia slapped his palm.

        Lisa rubbed her hands against her face, blowing out a slow sigh. “Hell of a gamble you’re running, Miles.”

        Merton sighed. “It’s either that or try and learn null-gravity fencing in a week and then beat a guy who can bend steel girders with his bare hands,” he said, sitting up slightly.

        Carlos nodded.

        “Trevor? What do you think of my plan?” Merton asked, looking at his third friend. Trevor was looking down at his hands. Then, slowly, he sighed.

        “Well,” he said. “It could be worse. You could be trying Starfinder.”

        “Oh come on!” Carlos exclaimed. “It’s not that bad, you sourpuss!”

        Trevor looked mulish and stubborn. But Carlos was ready to have none of it: “Its got magic, its got spaceships, its got a cool ass setting, its got sexy bug ladies, what more do you fucking want, you goddamn un-fun having realism stickler douche canoe.”

        The door to their palatial chambers opened before the debate could get into full swing and Thuwit entered, flanked by two heavily armed and armored humanoids. Their races were concealed by face covering helmets, and they had heavy swords and rifles and pistols and knives and other tools of destruction strapped everywhere on their bodies. Behind them was yet another figure. This one was red robed, with a conical hood that concealed most of his face, save for the insectoid mandibles that thrust from underneath the cowl. His eyes were compounded and bulged out past the eye-holes on the cone-hood. He wore a large, hissing backpack, with tubes running into his arms and wrists, which themselves were covered with thick leather and metal armor.

        In short, he looked like a space KKK bug-man.

        “Presenting Xa’cock, the seneschal to House Thresh,” Thuwit said. “Here to take the rules and regulations for the Dungeons and the Dragons.”

        “Of course,” Merton said, standing up. He snapped his fingers. Julia, playing the part of good concubine, hurried over and grabbed his laptop from his backpack, which had been yoinked to space with the rest of him. He held the laptop aloft. “Do you know how to transfer files from this? I’ve labeled them very specifically.”

        Xa’cock hissed. “How difficult can it be?” He sounded snide.

        Merton grinned slowly. “Of course.” He held the laptop out – and felt a twinge of fear. But he could live without a laptop. He could get a new one if they survived this.

        Xa’cock and Thuwit left.

        “Merton,” Julia asked, her voice dreamy. “Did you ever update from Vista?”

        “Never got around to it,” Merton murmured.

        This time Julia was the one who held her hand down-low for a high five.

***

        Relix bit down on her pillow and tried to imagine anyone but Merton’s handsome face as her tail slithered into her own sex. Her claws dug into the bed as her hips lifted and rocked with every motion. Her eyes closed tightly, and her tail-tip spread her cunt wide as the ridges along the upper edge of her tail bumped against her clit with every inch that slid into her. Her wings fanned outwards as she rolled her head back, gasping quietly. Her tongue lolled from her muzzle.

        She wasn’t just soaked.

        She was so fucking horny that she was positively dripping . Her juices sizzled along her thighs, skittering against scales that had become the fierce, furnace hot of a real mating urge . At that moment, her body felt her soul’s desire, and an instinct as ancient as dragon kind was kicking on. Some dragons, when they first learned to shift, got lost in wallowing in pleasure. Every noble house had one or two of such ilk: Dribbling mounds of barely controlled muscle. Nervous systems suspended in an amorphous ooze of flesh that had a few mouths to breathe and eat and drink with, tended to by a few mute slaves. The rest of their bodies? Riddled with drug-glands, pumping their bodies with whatever narcotic joy they had grown addicted too.

        That was why Relix never shapeshifted save for cold, hard, tactical reasons and that one time when she wanted the entire dozen of her orcish harem to fit in her at once.

        But there were instincts deeper than training.

        Needs more intense than the simple pleasure of being rutted by a dozen incredibly well hung green boys.

        The heat between her thighs, surrounding her tail, ratcheted up a few scales, drawing a ragged, needy keen from her as her tail slipped from her sex. She couldn’t control it anymore. It was thrust into the air, arching desperately. Presenting her puffy, inflamed cunt-lips to any who might see her. Here she was, a Princess, a direct descendant of the Prismatic Emperor himself, and she was going into heat over a few flirtatious words from a mage-blind monkey . But as much as her logical mind tried to sneer herself into calmness…

        She needed this.

        She buried her face into the pillows, whining and rocking her hips against an invisible cock. Her arm snaked out and she grabbed onto the com-crystal that rested on her night-stand. The cold stone filled her palm and then warmed with magic. The urge to call Thuwit and to have him bring her husband to her was overpowering. It burned on her tongue.

        She turned her head against the pillows. No. No! NO ! The thought thundered through her and she roared in displeasure, hurling the crystal away from her. It skittered along the floor as she tried to force her tail back into doing what she needed it to do. But the heat was growing too intense. Her claws dug into the mattress underneath the silksteel sheets. Her nose pressed into the downy fabric and she whuffed out hot, humid breaths that were tinged with the natural lightning that was her breath weapon. The whole room was beginning to hum with static as she felt every single droplet of her eagerness pattering along her thighs, dripping onto the bed. Her tail, merciless in its instincts, thrust upwards and let the painfully cool air of the room caress her needing sex.

        The temptation to call Merton...to have his cock…

         To be bred by him…

         “No!” She growled again. “I...didn’t...get...that... mage  blind...” She rocked her hips with every word, the slight motion enough to send cascading fireworks through her eyes as her brain sparked with that intense need. “Monkey ...to be an actual husband . I needed a tool !” She roared in frustration and lust at the same time. Her back arched and she grabbed onto her headboard. Then her eyes fell upon the light crystal that was set on the other night-stand. It was sleek. Straight. Phallic.

        Her clawed hand grabbed onto it, clenching tightly enough to make it creak, and barely managed to get it underneath her quivering, twitching thighs before her knees folded and she sat on the bed. The crystal plunged into her sex. If she had been a weakling, like an elf or an orc or a dwarf, she might have felt pain. But a dragon’s sex was made of sterner stuff. Her thighs started to rise and fall, rise and fall, rise and fall as she felt the faux-cock plunge into her sex. It wasn’t enough . But it was close. Her eyes half closed and she let her mind wallow in the idea of Merton taking her.

        His delightfully endothermic body.

        His warm, soft, supple lips. Closing around her nipple.

        “Oh Merton!” she moaned. “Yes! Yes, fuck my hot scaled pussy, yes! Oh yes! Oh yes !”

        Her hips drove up and down with a sound not unlike a drum being played by a drummer whose conductor had just taken a hit of cocaine. Her lust addled brain felt a real cock between her thighs. She could feel Merton’s balls slapping her rump as he fucked her from behind. Then suddenly, the mental image shifted and he was above her. She was on her back and his fingers were lacing through her. That voice that had told such arresting tales, such funny jokes, was whispering in her ear.

         Relix…

        Just her name. Filled with real...tenderness.

        Relix shuddered and her back arched, her breasts bouncing in a perfect circle, her gleaming nipples drawing arcs in the air as her sex clenched on the light-crystal. The crystal itself started to glow, its magical generator kicked on by the raw lust pouring through her body. Her tail writhed behind her and her wings fanned outwards as Relix’s jaw opened wide. Her tongue lolled from the side of her mouth and she panted heavily, her eyes drooping as she looked sightlessly at the window that spread behind her bed.

        There, with the starry void as a backdrop, the window acted as a mirror. And she saw herself as her eyes slowly ticked into focus as the mind-shattering orgasm faded from her body.

        Cock-drunk on a mage-blind male who wasn’t even there, dripping with arousal, tingling and buzzing with the after-effects of going into heat. Going into heat , because of Merton Miles , a man who had – according to himself  – had no titles. No nobility. No kills. Nothing.

        Relix hurled the light crystal against the wall hard enough to shatter it. Her snarl came soft and deadly.

        “Never. Again.” She closed her eyes. Her heart hardened. In the Five Talon Empire…

        Her hand touched her breast. Her memory shifted, slowly, back to the only time she had ever shown something close to affection. She could still remember the squealing groan as the airlock began to peel open. The cries of her harem. The feeling of Kellen pushing her to safety moments before the bulkhead slammed shut.

        She gritted her teeth, banishing the memory. Her hand tightened on her chest. The heart was for pumping blood .

        Nothing more.