Dragon X

In a temperate morning, I slowly walked around the uneven land. Trees of various species surrounded me, almost as if they were trying to protect me from the elements. Although I knew that there was no need for such protection for the weather was calm and the sun was shining brightly above. Fog patches were thick and they had this icy smell to them, as I slid my tail through the bushes. Feeling the tiny branches and the leaves brushing against the scaly skin on my tail, I shuddered and regained my senses. I was spacing out, wandering through the woods aimlessly.

I was not a pure dragon. I never was.

My father was a pure dragon. My mother was a human. Although dragon clans usually secluded themselves from the society of human race, often there were humans invading our territories without knowing it. The elders had always told the clans that we needed to mark a more visible boundary between the human world and the dragon world. After all, it was against the rules of our Dragon Spirit to let humans and their ways influencing our sacred draconic culture. I never really understood the point of all these segregations though. Were we supposed to view ourselves as the superior race? Were humans ignorant and basically inane at everything happening around them? Granted, us dragons never fought with each other. And even if we did, we did it for the sole purpose of friendly competitions. Competitions ranged from mating season to annual mock-battles to prove which clan was better. My father always told me that humans were bloodthirsty. Useless pink creatures with their weapons and their senseless murdering just to gain something that they didn't have. Not for us though. We lived with nature.

As a young dragon, I had this light shade of green with a mix of icy blue. The green was visible on my back, which extended itself across my upper arms and legs down to the tip of my tail. The blue started from my belly, or the underside of my sleek body. It wasn't one of those navy colours where it was as dense as the mud in the pond near where I lived. It was more of a patched-on dye that was close to white. Hence I usually called it "icy blue" whenever my buddies asked about my unique colours.

To us dragons, our appearances signified everything. Ones with well-toned muscles were considered as hunters. They'd fly all over the mountains regardless of how far the preys had run. Since their body colours were dull and lack any form of glimmer, they were the perfect dragons to catch food for their clans without the games spotting them easily. Then there were ones with bright orange colours, sometimes close to red. These crimson dragons were the protectors. When humans ventured too close to our lands, these impatient adults roared and swiped their claws in the air. No, they were not aggressive toward humans. Not at all. They just wanted these puny creatures to leave immediately. And what happened if the humans refused to leave? Well, this was where our claws and wings came into use. We'd grab these intruders by their leathery clothes and flew all the way up into the limitless sky. Sky that was so huge that its horizon filled our eyesight. We'd then drop them back at a random human village and leave instantly. See. Not aggressive. Besides, these human didn't dare attacking us, for they knew our strengths, our powers, our sheer sizes and numbers. Then there were the common dragons that just lived out their lives digging caves and whatnot for other dragons to dwell in. They were usually grey. And sometimes small. Golden dragons were the elders. Legends had it that Dragon Spirit Himself created the elders. They were given this beautiful, wonderful, perfect colour as a symbol of wisdom and courage. The elders were by far the largest dragons in our lands. Their wings could fill the entire sky (from where I was sitting anyway). Their tails were like the comets in the heaven that occasionally showed up at night (from where I looked anyway).

I usually thought they were stingy old lizards. I couldn't remember how many times they had punished me because I usually hung out by myself, secluded from everyone else in my clan.

I was the only dragon born in tints of light green and icy blue. When I was born, my father exclaimed: "Why... this dragon is not a male nor a female. What is it?" Other dragons recoiled in surprise. Only my human mother cuddled me in her arms. You see, us dragons were born as tiny chibi dragons. So small, in fact, that other humans would think we were common lizards that just slithered around in the forests. But I tell you, give us a year or two and we'd grow up to be so huge that we could squash you with one foot.

I was the odd one. Never in the dragon history had there been a procreation between a dragon and a human. I mean, what madness would prompt such hideous action? Leave it to my father. He fell in love with my mother so much that he'd rather disobey the rage of the elders and mate with her. How they had met each other, I did not know exactly. I heard different versions of the story. Although I'd usually think that my mother ventured into our lands for whatever reasons were out there at that time. My father was going to send her back (he was the protector, with scale colour of blinding red he had quite a temper, really) but somehow he fell in love with her at the first sight.

Wasn't that cute? My ill-tempered father. Loving a female human. At least that was what I was trying to think. It was a better form of the gossips that had been circulating around ever since that day.

Was I happy? Not really. Only a handful of dragons would want to hang out with me. The rest viewed me as an abomination. First, they viewed me as a bastard dragon. Second, they discriminated against me because my body colours were vastly different. Third, my personality was beyond the comprehension of a normal dragon. What could I say, really? I mean, it was not as if I wanted to act all weird or anything. I just wanted to be myself. Was that so hard to ask? And even the friends that hung out with me would talk behind my back. I knew. They thought I didn't know, or wouldn't know, what they had said whenever I was not around or out of earshot. But due to my nature, I always tried to act as if I didn't hear anything and I'd smile and wag my tail playfully while approaching them. However, I knew I was just trying to comfort myself from the loneliness.

The valley that our clan lived in was a steep, isolated place. Thousands of feet of cliff walls in black rose like magical barriers from both sides. Normally, the massive, natural walls would block the sun, as tedious shadows draped themselves across our lands. But when the sun was high in the peak of noon, all of us would lie in the warm, cozy rays of yellow and white, savouring the temperate light bathing against our bodies. During that sacred time, which the wind was a nice addition to the rising temperature, I'd always take a dip in a hidden pond far away from others. I knew they wouldn't like playing in the same area of the water that I was in. I was fortunate, too, for the pond was hidden behind abundant bushes and trees that most dragons would have overlooked.

In that little pond of mine, the crystal clear pond, the pond that acted like a mirror with the light blue ripples, was my own little haven. Whenever I was sad, or scared, or angry, I'd silently fly to this insignificant place. Insignificant, for the other dragons, but valuable for me. I'd sit beside the pond with my feet and claws digging into the wet, soggy mud, and stared at the reflection produced by the stillness of the cool water surface. I was a skinny dragon, not to mention small. The elders always looked at me with an expression of disgrace. My father usually didn't say much, although I could see the disappointment in his eyes. As for my mother? Before she died shortly after she gave birth to me, she'd kiss my forehead and caress my face. She'd tell me how beautiful I was. Even if I was too young to reply with a coherent word, I'd squeak and snuggle against her breasts. My short little tail would wag as if it was going to fall off. And I'd use my weak little wings, which were just thin membranes at the time, to wrap around her hands and arms. She'd giggle softly and hold me tightly against her.

After she died, I'd ask my father: "Why was mother a human?"

He'd answer: "Because she just was."

I'd then pressed on with that high, immature voice of mine: "But why did you choose her?"

He'd then sigh and replied: "Because I was in love with her."

We'd go back and forth on a routine basis with such questions. But I'd always stop when I realized how hurt my father was. The corner of his light red eyes would be filled with tears.

Looking at the pond, I often played the "what if" game to myself. I'd bring my legs close to me and hug myself into a fetus position while asking: "What if I was not the dragon offspring of a human? What if I had both parents alive? What if I had more friends to play with? What if more people could understand me instead of rejecting me?" This kind of games usually made me ending up depressed. I forgot how many times I had cried or how many times I wandered around the forests by myself.

That was how my childhood passed. A waste of time. A waste of my life. A life that shouldn't be given to me at all. I'd be better off not exist in this world in the first place.

Us dragons usually went through frequent mating seasons. At least ten times per year. The main reason, I'd guess, would be simply the fact that the fertility rate for dragons was incredibly low. I had seen dragons mating with each other over a dozen times per year and they still couldn't get an offspring to carry on their bloodline. Nonetheless, many of these dragon couples would have plenty of time, since the lust for procreation would last at least eighty years, in human's perception. Ah, during these periods of constant male versus male competitions in order to win the heart of a female dragon, no humans dared to come within our lands for miles. With hormones high in the air, these people would be ripped to shreds should they dare to interrupt such sacred acts.

When I turned into a young teenager, I, too, tried to search for a partner. A soul mate, if you would want to call that. Alas, because my body size was significantly smaller than the rest of the dragons (and slender of course), I was often ignored by those beautiful females. One time, I tried to catch this female dragon's attention by showing off my agility in the air. She angrily used her long, slender tail to smack me in the neck. It felt as if a huge bolt of lightening had surged through my body. Losing all senses and balances; I fell from the sky and crashed against the hard, solid ground. When I regained consciousness, I was covered in dirt. A few young dragons laughed at me as I licked my wounds and slowly walked off.

But the feeling of wanting to mate was too strong for me. I'd pace in circles for hours at a time at the little pond that I had grown up with. Many times, I'd gaze at the pond and just wondered: "What if I can never get a mate?" The mere thought of lifetime loneliness was too much for me to handle. Within the next few months, the trees nearby were slashed in half by my claws and tail. The feeling. The lust. The heat. These were sensations that I couldn't handle. I'd wake up in the night with sweat covering my scaly body. My sheath would be erect. I would be panting, while rolling around in pain. Not the type of pain which one would go screaming into the night sky because he felt as if millions of arrows were piercing his flesh. It was the type of pain that demanded relief and comfort. The type that was within.

One night at the side of the pond, I was so in heat that I subconsciously touched my sheath. Immediately and surprisingly, a jolt of ecstasy flashed through my body. I trembled as I started to caress it. I had never felt anything like it before. Was this how the couples felt when they were mating? Soon, my eyes were closed tightly. My claws were lightly scratching my private as my fingers were rubbing my sheath up and down. Soon, the tip of my penis appeared. It felt wonderful. It felt as if I was in heaven, in fact. Slowly I opened one eye. I saw the pointy tip of my cock pointing upward into the firmament. A transparent liquid was forming at the top. I sighed and closed my eyes again. I didn't need to see it to know that it felt good just by touching myself. In the end, I grasped my cock tightly with my right hand, taking care not to injure myself with my claws. More liquid appeared and it dripped down the sides of my shaft. I didn't know an erected penis could be so huge and long. Then again, I had never seen another male's penis from the beginning. It felt hot as well. I could feel the veins pulsing with a rhythm, which was connected to my heart. Soon, I was rubbing my cock faster and faster, in a tempo that was impossible to be disrupted. The strange liquid had now covered my cock and my hand. It acted as a lubricant. My heart raced quicker and quicker, as my breath became shallow and short. Sweat was drenching my entire slender dragon body, as my scales reflected the moonlight like mirrors. With a loud growl, I exploded in delight. The thrill of my cock pulsing through my fingers. The excitement of the gooey substance that had splashed onto my neck, chest, and legs. It just kept on coming like ocean waves that were always around no matter what.

When I reopened my eyes with a deep groan, I was smothered in whitish, sticky, thing. It smelled so different, so foreign, that I didn't know how to describe it. When I tried to shift into a more comfortable position on the muddy ground, the gooey stuff ran down the sides of my soft chest. My cock was still erect. It was glossy and shiny from the liquid that had covered it fully. In absolute curiosity, I brought my right hand to my face. Licking my fangs with my long, sleek tongue, I opened my mouth and gave my claws a quick lick. Whatever the stuff that came shooting out of my penis was, it tasted kind of sweet. Among that unique flavour, it was a bit salty too. I gave my palm a lick as well, where there was a good quantity of the whitish stuff that had remained. It gradually rested on the tip of my hot, steamy tongue and tenderly trickled down into the back of my throat. This time, the aroma of the liquid was denser and more intense. To be honest, I liked it. I liked it a lot. With a gulp, I swallowed it.

That night was the first time I slept well. I felt so tired afterward that I instantly went into a deep slumber. I didn't bother cleaning myself up, for I figured I could just wash off everything the next morning. That night was also the first time I realized how I could relieve myself of the hormone driven lust for mating. By touching myself and shooting off (that was what I called it at the time), I could feel good and relaxed without any delay.

It continued on for the next three months. I'd sleep by the pond, hidden from the eyes of everyone else, touch myself, shoot off, and then sleep. Little did I know, there was someone spying on me one night, as I exploded in pleasure and licked myself clean of the gooey, sticky stuff.

To be continued....