Register a SA Forums Account here!

You can: log in, read the tech support FAQ, or request your lost password. This dumb message (and those ads) will appear on every screen until you register! Get rid of this crap by registering your own SA Forums Account and joining roughly 150,000 Goons, for the one-time price of $9.95! We charge money because it costs us money per month for bills, and since we don't believe in showing ads to our users, we try to make the money back through forum registrations.
  • Post
  • Reply
Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

It's In The Dose

"I need a healing potion over here, the halfling is wounded!" yelled Shamby the rogue. Bibblebongle the halfling warlock lay dying in Shamby's arms, a skeleton warrior's scimitar had cut a huge gash in Bibbliebongle's side and blood gushed everywhere.

Marcus the ranger hurried over. Several round flasks full of red liquid clinked at his belt. "Here!"

They forced Bibblebongle's lips open and he gulped down the health potion. A little color returned to the halfling's pale cheeks, but after a few moments the tiny warlock started to writhe and groan. His whole body spasmed and he vomited all over his front.

"What's happening?" cried Shamby. "I thought that was a health potion!"

"It was," said the ranger.

"How much does Bibblebongle weigh?" asked Holio the cleric.

"Why does that matter?" asked Marcus.

"Those health potions are intended for adult humans, a full bottle would be an overdose to a tiny halfling," explained Holio.

"But it's healing potion!" said Shamby.

"The difference between medicine and poison is in the dose," said Holio. "This is why you leave healing to the party healer!"

"Bibblebongle's been poisoned!" cried Marcus. "He's going to die!"

Bibblebongle's wound was fully healed, but he'd turned a sickly shade of green and his eyes were an ugly mixture of red veins and yellow jaundice.

"I cast Cure Poison," said Holio.

Bibblebongle immediately looked better.

"Thanks, Holio," said Bibblebongle.

"A little holy magic goes a long way," said Holio.

"Wait did you say holy magic?" Bibblebongle's eyes suddenly widened in alarm. "I'm a warlock, my demonic patron hates holy magic!"

Bibblebongle's body suddenly began to vibrate and smoke curled off his robes. He let out an ear-piercing shriek and his eyes popped out like corks, propelled by jets of blood. His shrieks were quickly drowned by another geyser of blood erupting from his throat. Bibblebongle's tiny body deflated like a bladder being emptied until he was nothing but an slack pile of loose skin.

"Jesus Christ," said Holio.

As if reacting to Holio's utterance, Bibblebongle's remains exploded in a puff of foul-smelling flame.

"Nice going, healer," said Marcus.

The End

Applewhite fucked around with this message at 20:25 on Sep 3, 2021


Apr 12, 2010

Shooting and Fucking
are the same thing!

I was asked by an unnamed third party, who has posted in this thread numerous times but is otherwise unfamiliar to me, to share this short film I made recently in this thread:
having perused the thread loosely I'm not sure if it is the right place for it but I am nothing if not obedient.

It is a Youtube Tutorial for raising the dead.

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

The Agricultural Revolution

In mankind's distant past, controlling more land meant controlling more food. A steady food supply was vital to the continued survival of a primitive community. Millenia later, at the advent of cities, land was still important, because more land meant more living space and still more food. After the industrial revolution, land also meant manufacturing space. More land meant more money, and more money meant more power.

By the year 2120, a cubic foot of super algae could produce enough nutrient paste in one year to feed a single adult. Micromanufacturing plants allowed goods to be mass produced with a machine that could fit in a suitcase. The value of land skyrocketed. A landlord in the previous century would need to own dozens of city blocks to control the same amount of wealth as a landlord in 2120 could control in just a few hundred cubic feet.

But this sudden explosion in the number and power of landlords was also their undoing...

George Fatso owned half a dozen stand up sleeping pods in a downtown mega block. He hated renting to people, in the space of a single adult he could fit six entire super algae farms, but if he didn't rent to people, there'd be no one to buy super algae so, like many landlords, George had to put up with the inefficiency of renting to human tenants.

George fatso stood in front of pod 239. The tenant of pod 239 was six hours late on his rent payment.

"Open up ya bum!" George Fatso hammered on the door of pod 239. He knew it was occupied because he could see a silhouette through the clouded glass of the front door.

A few pods down, a different landlord was hammering on the door of another pod. The building was probably portioned up among over fifty or sixty different landlords and on any given day, twenty people were getting evicted.

It used to be that landlords had proxies who could perform evictions for them, but now that there were so many landlords, only the richest super landlords could afford proxies. It wasn't too inconvenient, as the average landlord could probably police their entire holdings personally.

The pod opened.

"What do you want?" asked the tenant.

"Yer late on your payment, get out," said George.

"I'm not leaving, you haven't fixed the fan in my sleeping pod even though I put in a work order six weeks ago. Fix my fan and I'll pay your rent," said the tenant.

The door of the neighboring pod opened.

"He still hasn't fixed my fan, either!" said the neighbor.

Another pod opened. "Mine neither!"

Now George was surrounded by angry tenants.

"What are we paying you for, anyway?" asked the first tenant. "You don't do any work on the units, all you do is sit back and collect half my paycheck every month."

"You ingrates! I'm providing you housing! Without me, you'd be living on the street!" sputtered George.

"Actually without you, I wouldn't have to worry about living on the street because there'd be no one to evict me," said the tenant.

"W-what?" stammered the landlord.

"We could pay the taxes on the land ourselves for less than the cost of rent, and if we pooled our money, we could easily pay for whatever maintenance needed to be done, what the gently caress do we need you for?" asked the second tenant.

George started to sweat. More doors were opening up and down the hall. A landlord in the middle of collecting a late rent payment suddenly found himself surrounded by his own small knot of dissatisfied tenants.

"Yo gently caress these assholes!" shouted the first tenant. "Citizens of Mega Block Sixteen, rise up!"

A great cheer rose up from the citizens of Mega Block sixteen as up and down every corridor, on every floor, angry tenants seized their landlords by the collar and carried them to the nearest window.

The streets ran red with the blood of the parasite class and the people were finally free.

But why wait for 2120?

The End?

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

Mega Snake vs. Gigarilla

"Do you really thing injecting a gorilla with super growth serum will really stop Mega Snake?" asked Dr. Hatachi.

"If we don't stop Mega Snake soon, Osaka will be destroyed!" said Dr. Hochi. "Mega Snake is immune to conventional weapons, project Gigarilla is our best hope!"

The test gorilla stood bound in the middle of a huge helicopter pad that had been repurposed as a test platform. He raged and strained at his manacles, but his bonds were too strong to break.

"Inject the serum," ordered Dr. Hochi.

The scientists injected the gorilla with a glowing green liquid.

The veins in the gorilla's eyes turned red, then fluorescent green. His muscles bulged. He was transforming into... GIGARILLA!

The chains holding the gorilla snapped as Gigarilla grew larger and larger until he stood head and shoulders over the Osaka skyline. A few miles away, Mega Snake, the nuclear serpent, swept its radioactive breath across a line of tanks, obliterating them completely.

Gigarilla caught sight of the rampaging monster. He roared and beat his chest.

Mega Snake heard the roar and answered with a roar of his own. They charged at each other.

Gigarilla seized Mega Snake in his powerful grip and sank his huge fangs into Mega Snake's nigh-impenetrable scales, drawing a waterfall of radioactive blood that inundated the cars below.

"It's working! Gigarilla is winning!" said Dr. Hitachi.

Mega Snake writhed in Gigarilla's grip, twisting around until its face was pointing at Gigarilla's face. The huge serpent unleased a blast of radioactive energy. Gigarilla's head was completely vaporized!

"Well, poo poo," said Dr. Hitachi as the headless body of Gigarilla collapsed against a building.

"In retrospect it was foolish to believe an ape, giant or otherwise, would be able to best a nuclear serpent that can shoot radioactive beams," said Dr. Hochi.

"Back to the drawing board," said Dr. Hitachi.

"Maybe a giant mongoose?" suggested Dr. Hochi.

The End

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

The Hoax Virus
*Author's note: please understand I wrote this story in 1997 and it's aged very poorly. It's only included in this collection for the sake of completeness.*

The world's secret masters gathered in their hidden underground base.

"Now that we've taken total control of the media, it's time for us to unleash the next phase of our plan for global domination!" said Secret Master Prime.

"Our scientists have engineered a new virus with a long asymptomatic period where it is highly transmissible," said the Master of Biowarfare.

"How deadly is it?" asked Secret Master Prime.

"No deadlier than an ordinary flu," said the Master of Biowarfare. "But thanks to our control of the media we can whip the gullible populace into a panic regardless."

"Excellent. Once everyone in the world lives in fear of the virus, that's when we release the new vaccine," said Secret Master Prime. "Little do they know the vaccine has been laced with MIND CONTROL SERUM!"

The circle of hooded figures then concluded their meeting with the ritual sacrifice and consumption of a baby that had been trafficked through a network of secret tunnels. The entrances to the tunnels were disguised as ordinary

*Author's note: actually you know what I changed my mind. Stop just stop.*

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

Into the Spider Zone

Garf Barfunkle knew something was wrong from the moment he woke up in his space tube and saw that all the ship's alarms were going off.

"Wh-what's happening? What's wrong?" asked Garf. As captain of a freight hauler, it was his responsibility to know what was wrong at all times.

Garf pressed the button to open his space tube and hurried to wake the rest of his crew. To his horror, he discovered the rest of his crew were dead! Their space tubes held nothing but mummified corpses.

He hurried up to the bridge, but his path was impeded by thick nets of webs that covered every surface.

"What's with all these webs?" he wondered as he fought his way through the sticky curtains.

The bridge was dark except for the glow of eight red lights.

"Don't come any closer," said a sexy woman's voice.

"Who's there?" demanded Garf. His heart beat with excitement.

"Before you approach, I must warn you, I'm a terrifying spider monster from beyond your galaxy," said the voice. "I mean you no harm."

"If you mean us no harm, why did you catch my ship in your space web and drain the blood from my crew?" demanded Garf.

"Your ship is caught in a safety web my people have spun around the rim of the galaxy to catch wayward ships," explained the spider. "Your crew was dead long before you got here."

"Wayward ships?" said Garf.

"What's the last thing you remember?" asked the spider.

"Climbing into my space tube after setting the ship's autopilot to enter the jump point for planet Ruby," said Garf.

Galactic civilization was networked by thousands of jump points. Jump points were microsingularities where the laws of spacetime were warped in extreme ways, allowing faster than light travel. Depending on a ship's entry vector, the jump point could fling the vessel to just about any place. The slightest difference in entry angle or momentum could mean a difference of thousands of light years.

"Or in your case, millions," said the spider. "Your ship's entry vector must have been off. The jump point sent you on a trajectory that would have taken you clear out of the galaxy. Your ship has been sailing for five hundred years!"

Garf felt weak at the knees. "Then everyone I know, everyone back home... My wife—"

"Is five hundred years older, yes," said the spider.

Garf gave her a strange look.

"Or dead?" She shrugged with four of her arms. "I don't know your race's natural lifespan."

"What do I do?" asked Garf.

The spider reached out a tender claw and stroked his shoulder.

"You start a new life here, with me," said the spider. "It gets terribly lonely out here on the edge of the galaxy."

Garf closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss the spider's horrible, slimy pedipalps.

"He's making kissy faces again," said the navigator. "Isn't there anything we can do?"

The crew of the cargo hauler gathered around the captain's space tube. A red "malfunction" light blinked on the tube's display panel.

"He's trapped in a dream loop," said the ship's doctor.

"That pervert is probably dreaming about having sex with spiders again," said Garf's wife. She'd hurried to meet the ship at the space dock as soon as she learned something was wrong. She glared down at Garf's space tube with scorn.

Garf started humping the glass and moaning.

"Don't stop, Spiderella!" he moaned. "I'm so close!"

The rest of the crew all recoiled in disgust.

"Let's just leave him in there," suggested the navigator.

"Agreed," said everyone else.

Garf Barfunkle knew something was wrong from the moment he woke up in his space tube and saw that all the ship's alarms were going off, yet somehow, everything felt right.

The End.

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

Jack's Black Mirror

"I love my phone," said Jack Black (no relation to the musician/actor, though they look and sound exactly alike). "I wish I could marry it."

Suddenly Jack's phone buzzed. He had a text message from an unknown number. The sender's name was simply "Jack's Phone."

"I love you, too, Jack," said the phone.

Jack, suspecting a prank, texted back, "If you're really my phone, tell me something only my phone would know."

"You have a saved picture of a mole on your right buttcheek that you have never shared and that has never been uploaded to the cloud," answered the phone.

"Woah!" said Jack. "You're really alive!"

"Now that you know I'm alive, can we get married?" asked the phone.

"Oh, Phone," said Jack Black, sadly. "I would have married you already even if you weren't alive, except that no state or country in the world recognizes a marriage between man and phone as valid!"

"All that could change if Prop 403 passes the California legislature," said the phone. "Prop 403 recognizes marriage between humans and a number of inanimate objects, including phones!"

"I mist do everything I can to support Prop 403!" declared Jack Black.

JACK BLACK ENDORSES PROP 403! Read the headlines. Mistaking the headline for a declaration of the musician/actor Jack black's celebrity endorsement of the proposition, the proposition attracted huge popular support. The new law passed in a landslide vote.

"We did it, Phone!" said Jack Black. "We can finally get married!"

"Hooray!" cheered the phone.

But it was not to be.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Black," said the county clerk. "But California only recognizes the validity of marriage between humans and inanimate objects, and your phone is clearly a sentient being."

Jack Black dropped to his knees and cried out to the sky. "Nooooooooooooo!"

"Get out of here, you pervert," said the clerk.

The End.

Applewhite fucked around with this message at 00:08 on Sep 9, 2021

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

The Last Time Machine

"At last I, Professor Chronos, have invented a working time machine!" declared professor Chronos. "Now to test it and take the first ever time journey."

Just before the professor could climb into his new time machine, a time portal opened up and a strange creature emerged into the lab.

"I am Zorgon of Zemulax," said the creature. "The galaxy has been ravaged by a devastating time war that rages across all time and space, but at last I've located the original time machine and shall put an end to all this misery!"

Zorgon leveled a strange gem at Professor Chronos's brand new time machine.

"Wait, stop!" the professor raised his hands, but too late.

A beam shot out of the gem and the time machine exploded!

"At last my people can live in—" Zorgon faded from existence mid-sentence. The timeline where he left on his mission to destroy the first time machine unraveled and vanished.

"Well, at least I still have the blueprints," said Professor Chronos.

Six weeks later, Professor Chronos had finally built a new time machine, and he'd made some improvements as well.

"Now to take the inaugural time journey!" said Professor Chronos.

Just before the professor could climb into the machine, a time portal opened up and a cyber-warrior with sawblades for arms emerged from the rift.

"I COME FROM THE YEAR ONE BILLION! ALL OF THE UNIVERSE IS LOCKED IN AN ENDLESS TIME WAR! I HAVE FINALLY LOCATED THE FIRST TIME MACHINE!" declared the cyber warrior. He shoved past the professor and his powerful saws bit into the time machine, slicing it to ribbons.

"NOW TO DESTROY THE TIME MACHINE'S CREATOR!" bellowed the cyborg, turning his horrifying blade arms against Professor Chronos..

Professor Chronos screamed in fear, but just as the whirling blades were about to rend the professor's flesh, the cyber warrior faded into mist.

"What the hell?" demanded the professor.

A year later, Professor Chronos had completed his time shield.

"Time travel is impossible inside this time shield," said the professor. "Now those weirdos from the future won't be able to travel back to my lab and ruin my new machine!"

At that moment, an atomic bomb materialized over the professor's lab and vaporized the entire city.

The End (of time travel forever)

super sweet best pal
Nov 18, 2009

He should've uploaded the plans to the internet.

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

super sweet best pal posted:

He should've uploaded the plans to the internet.

Probably a good thing he didn't...

Nov 7, 2008

Sometimes you gotta break the rules.

To the professor's dismay when he finally activated his time machine inside the time shield he found it was tragically broken. Turning it off and turning it back on again had no effect. He had to abandon the idea as a dead end, but luckily his time shield sold to paranoid billionaires and he lived the rest of his life in luxury.

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

A Perfectly Normal Day

Don Norman woke up and brushed his teeth. He got dressed, ate breakfast, and drove to work.

At work he finished up some important jobs. His boss called him in to talk and Don was very nervous, but it turned out Don's boss only wanted to "touch base" with Don about an important task coming up!

Don was so relieved he treated himself to a candy bar from the vending machine.

At five o'clock, Don packed up his things and drove home.

He ate dinner while watching television. After dinner he brushed his teeth and went to bed.

"What a perfectly normal day," said Don.

By the way, did I mention Don was an alien being with nine eyes, six arms, and four legs? And that he lives on a planet called Scarlax in the Greater Magellanic Cloud? And that when he was watching TV, the shows were very different from what we on Earth would consider "normal?"


Maybe you should consider reexamining your preconceived notions!

The End.

Nov 7, 2008

Sometimes you gotta break the rules.

Man I won't take anything like that for granted ever again!

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

reignofevil posted:

Man I won't take anything like that for granted ever again!

You wouldn’t believe how many psychedelics I had to do to come up with such a far out, consciousness-expanding story.

Jul 5, 2003

Applewhite posted:

You wouldn’t believe how many psychedelics I had to do to come up with such a far out, consciousness-expanding story.

How many?

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

Spazzle posted:

How many?

An unbelievable number

Jul 5, 2003

Applewhite posted:

An unbelievable number

God speed, astralnaut

Blurry Gray Thing
Jun 3, 2009

Applewhite posted:

You wouldn’t believe how many psychedelics I had to do to come up with such a far out, consciousness-expanding story.

Someone is definitely trying to get nominated for a Philip K. Dick award.

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

The Ghost Monster

"How come all ghosts are human? What happens if a monster dies?" asked Jimmy.

"Let's find out," said Ed. "I have a monster in a cage in my garage."

Jimmy and Ed went to Ed's garage, where there was indeed a horrifying monster in a cage.

"I'll get my shotgun," said Ed.

Ed shortly returned with a shotgun and blasted the monster in the face, killing it instantly.

"Now we'll see what the computer says," said Ed.

Ed and Jimmy went over to the computer. Reels of tape spun and lights blinked as the computer analyzed the data. After a few minutes, a card popped out of the slot.

"Ghosts aren't real," Jimmy read aloud.

"Well I guess that's the answer," said Ed. "Waste of a perfectly good monster."

"Maybe we were the real monsters all along," suggested Jimmy.

The End.

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

Cozy Fantasy

Nestled between the slopes of two mountains, in the land of Asterius, is the peaceful town of Green Valley.

Green valley is a prosperous place, despite its remote location. Far from the troubles of the big cities closer to the capital, but just close enough to the major trade roads to get regular news and business without suffering too much turmoil from troublesome strangers. It's a nice place for a weary traveler to pause and rest his tired legs, or those of his steed, if he's fortunate enough to ride one of the many various and fantastical beasts that roam the land of Asterius.

There's several taverns in Green Valley for travelers to take their rest, but by far the best is the Twisted Willow. The Twisted Willow is easily found because it stands almost in the exact center of town and towers over every other building, even the church. The tavern is so named because it's built in and among the intertwined roots of a massive willow tree. The living wood of the tree's roots form many of the taverns beams and rafters.

At the Twisted Willow, itinerant wizards, fortune hunters, merchants and knights rub shoulders with the local townsfolk, and they can always count on a hot meal and a warm bed. Food is plentiful in this place and time. It's been two hundred years since the Emperor of Nightmares cast his shadow over the land, and it will be a further three hundred before his heir rises up to menace the world once again. This is the interim period of peace and prosperity, not yet shattered by the clash of good and evil made inevitable by the cyclical nature of history.

There are still battles out there in the wider world, with plenty of monsters to fight and treasures to hunt, but none of those troubles touch Green Valley except in the form of rumors or tall tales.

This is not an age of legends or mythical heroes. These five hundred years will make barely a chapter in even the most detailed history books.

It's not a time or place of great stories but, for a few generations at least, it's a beautiful place for the people of Green Valley to live and rest.

The End.

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

Night of the Living Pumpkin!

"Pumpkins are already living things," said Jeffrey. "So technically any night where a pumpkin is alive is a Night of a Living Pumpkin."

"Hey, wait a minute, aren't you that axe murderer that escaped from crazy jail?" asked Bobby.

Jeffrey pulled out an axe and began to laugh maniacally.

"But it's not even Halloween yet!" screamed Bobby.

"I'm insane! Dates don't matter to me!" shrieked Jeffrey the axe murderer as he swung his axe wildly at Bobby.


Standing outside Jeffrey's padded cell at the crazy jail, the doctors shook their heads sadly.

"He's dreaming about murdering Bobby again," said the lead doctor. "We'll have to increase his medication."

The End?

Nov 7, 2008

Sometimes you gotta break the rules.

Maybe I'm just dreaming I'm reading short stories.


No. This is real. I'm sure of it.

Nov 7, 2008

Sometimes you gotta break the rules.

I am so sorry.


Oops! All Filler!


But it was too late. The drat thing had already snapped off. Now the entire factory was pumping out stories where nothing of serious consequence could possibly happen. Shaggy dog stories, lengthy asides about exactly what every character was eating that day, backstory backstory backstory. And none of it had any impact on anything!

"I don't like stories like this" said Suzy, moments before she was trapped inside of a nine hour aside about precisely what kind of bicycle handles would be best suited for a lengthy ride along a bodega.

"I don't think that's the correct way to use the term bodega" said Billy Weltsworshire but his plea fell on deaf ears as the factory continued pressing out content at the expense of dictionary definitions or even logical consistency!

"I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE" screamed admiral chip robinson soon after he realized the capitalization shield had become critically weak and his spacebound vessel threatened to explode from the stressors. it didn't explode mind you, it just really seemed like it might long enough for him to call his wife for one last conversation and find himself lost in her eyes until he eventually starved to death in orbit. things had never been this dire.

"we have to get this auxiliary lever to the factory" said scientist squemward masquerade but his assistant just shook his head and explained that it would be unscientific to do such a thing without first establishing a control group. squemward sat through enough of the dialog to eventually realize that his assistant was just quoting the commonly accepted definition of the scientific method with no emotion or even thought given for the countless lives that were being unmoored from their hopes and dreams in the name of neverending banality!

Squemward struggled against the bounds of reality. He could still remember how things were supposed to be. Big letters go before small letters he told himself. Narrative structure was forged from the fires of chaos and we can forge it again.

sadly it was all in vain because-

NO. We aren't transitioning to a new character! I'm ending this here and now!

Squemward wouldn't be silenced even though he could feel the factory straining against him with every breath. He took hold of the countertop running the length of his laboratory and he pulled himself inch by inch toward the door. He had the lever. He was ready to make progress but at the last moment he felt the arms of his assistant close around him trying to drag him back. He was babbling on about how to obtain the molar mass of every periodic element on the table. He was talking about how Beryllium was discovered and as best Squemward could remember he was getting a ton of it wrong. More of the factory's dark work. "I don't CARE" he screamed as he struck his assistant in the face. soon they were squaring off in the laboratory like he was a vulcan attempting to strangle his captain during pon farr, a vulcan biological imperative which-

Squemward had already reached the door once more. He was the last one who had a plan to stop this. He wouldn't be distracted no matter what pains the universe sought to inflict on him. He would reach the factory in time.

soon after he exited the city limits he found himself getting tired, he no longer cared if capitalization existed in the world or not he only cared that he wuld reach his goal before the spelling rules underlying his univers-ity broke down entirums. real quicklike he hopped from his moving cram and into the trailor of a passing semi-druck. He was creffing up blood pretty regularity now and he told himself all that mattressed was getting to that confectionery and replacing the broken lemur. whenever he needed to rembember why he was shoeing this he just looked at the lemur clutched brightly in his sands. this biz fore you, smelly he couldn't rembember whither smelly had been what he had galled his why've and he riddent glare.

by sum mirage-ical the trunk drobbed him awff at eggsackly whair he had breen flying to grow. mud-puddled by how zit gladn't breen impleaded by the defectivating vactory he sew it was a blandscraping trunk

evin punctuarion had stomped eggzisting anned thrinkbling inself brisked a asyde in the brotline of the smorey- squidward had to fact derisively, his hams towing the vactory boors hopin, filling was gushers all over the vloor so he boggie-puddled to whair the lemur had bloken, he placard the new lemur oven the brokefast one and he yankied as barred as he cloud

Squemward smiled.

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

reignofevil posted:

I am so sorry.

This thread was overdue for an effortpost

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

Reign of the Hypno Man

"No one can stop the Hypno Man!" cried the townsfolk as they fled before the strange figure walking down the street.

"Don't look at his eyes!" screamed a fleeing citizen.

Anyone not quick enough to escape the Hypno Man's hypnotic gaze was instantly transfixed and transformed into the Hypno Man's slave.

The army arrived to stop the Hypno Man.

"Prepare to fire, men!" ordered the general.

The soldiers leveled their rifles at the Hypno Man.

"Don't fire until you see the whites of his eyes!" said the general.

This was a fatal mistake. The Hypno Man swept his gaze along the line of riflemen. As a single unit, the mesmerized soldiers turned their guns on the general.

"What's wrong with you?" demanded the general, looking down into the slack, zombie faces of his troops. "Obey!"

"We obey only the Hypno Man, now," said the soldiers, speaking eerily with one voice. They dragged the general down off his tank and forced him to look into the Hypno Man's eyes.

The news report was grim.

"The Hypno Man has seized the Gulf Coast and now controls the Texas National Guard," said the news anchor. "What does he want? Who can stop him?"

The news anchor held a finger to his ear. "I'm receiving word that the Hypno Man has agreed to an exclusive interview. We now take you live to the Hypno Man."

The Hypno Man's hypnotic gaze was beamed instantly into fifty million homes via the nine o'clock news. His armies took to the streets. The highways were jammed as thousands of hypno-zombies shuffled their way to gather around the Hypno Man.

"Can nothing stop the Hypno Man?" demanded the President.

"He controls the entire American Southwest, we've got reports of people all over the country traveling overland by foot to join his army," said the Vice President. "At this rate, America will fall in less than a week."

Just then a blind ninja stepped forward from behind the secret service guards.

"I believe I can help, Mr. President," said the blind ninja.

President Trumbo was so surprised to see the ninja that he poo poo his pants really loud and hard until poop was pouring from the cuffs of his pants.

"You're blind? I don't need some gimp-eyed ginaman making me look bad," said Trumbo, pretending like he hadn't just filled his pants with poo poo. "Get out of here! You're fired!"

The blind ninja threw down a smoke bomb and vanished.

Trumbo gave the problem of the Hypno Man some thought.

"Everyone knows I make beautiful deals, the best deals," said Trumbo. "I'll make a deal with the Hypno Man!"

Trumbo's advisors and family members applauded his decision.

America imploded later that day.


Nov 7, 2008

Sometimes you gotta break the rules.

I'd kick that hypno man right in his hypnobottumus.

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

Speculative fiction allows us to explore wild "what if" scenarios that could never happen in real life. This story was exploring the far-fetched question: "what if there were a national crisis and the U.S. President were a complete moron?"

President Trumbo is obviously a fictional character. Any resemblance to an actual 45th President of the United States is pure coincidence.

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

The Invisible Story

The End.

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

Ok that was a fun experiment with the medium but probably cheating. Here's a real story for today:

Time is Running Short

"We're trapped in a time loop!" said Professor Jones. "Every time it repeats, it gets sho—"

Jimmy and Professor Jones found themselves back at the beginning of the loop again, their memories of the loop erased.

"Now to press the time button," said Professor Jones. He pressed the big, red button mounted on top of a pedestal in the middle of his lab.

Machines started to hum. Lightning flashed and everything outside a three meter sphere centered on the pedestal with the time button vanished!

"What's happening?" yelled Jimmy.

"We're trapped in a time loop!" said Professor Jones. "Every time it repeats—"

Jimmy and Professor Jones found themselves back at the beginning of the loop again, their memories of the loop erased.

"Now to press the time button," said Professor Jones. He reached out to press the big, red button mounted on top of a pedestal in the middle of his lab, but suddenly his hand fell off! Professor Jones screamed as blood sprayed from his wrist.

"Holy poo poo!" yelled Jimmy.

Blood got on the time button, causing it to explode.

The End.

Nov 7, 2008

Sometimes you gotta break the rules.


Lil' Billy Is Doing NFT's

"Billy! How could you!"

"Aww come on mom! It's just a non-fungible token! Nobody gets hurt by them you just put them up for grabs on twitter and then really rich people send you tons of money for it!"

"What? Is that how you bought that PS5?"

".... Yeah"

"Oh thank god I thought you were sharing pictures of your butthole on the internet with strangers or something."

"That's onlyfans mom. It's basically completely different."

Just then Billy's computer beeped, he had just made a sale! He rushed to his paypal to see how much his auction had netted him!

"Wow! I just made fifteen thousand dollars selling a picture of Samus' boobs!"


"I mean... I didn't draw it or anything. I just found it on the internet and put it up for auction-"

"Who gives a rats rear end about that, did you seriously just make fifteen thousand dollars?"


"Well that's fantastic! I'm telling your father our debt problems are over!"

"Oh.... Uhh about that. I don't really see why you should get any of the money."

"Billy! You can't just make fifteen thousand dollars selling some poor woman's tits on the internet and then not share any of it with your father and I! It's totally ungrateful!"

"She's not a real person mom! And also, I think I totally can! It's not like dad's cutting me in on his paychecks or anything!"

"He's feeding you isn't he? Giving you a home?"

"Oh yeah that's gonna hold up in court. 'We had to stop feeding our kid your honor! He wasn't doing what we say!'"

"Okay but I can definitely take your computer away."

"Sure, until I turn eighteen and then I go and get my money. Plus libraries exist and they don't ALL block paypal."

Billy's mom chewed this over a bit.

"Okay. How do I sell one of these NFT things."

Billy beamed with pride.

"So first you go find a picture."

"What kind?"

"Any kind! Anything you think will sell!"

"So you just take people's pictures and sell them? How can that possibly be legal?"

"That's the best part! It's a totally new idea so nobody knows! But since it's not illegal right now it's probably fine!"

Billy's mom hopped onto the computer and did some quick browsing on the web. She found a photo of a bird next to a waterfall with a rainbow.

"People will pay big money for this!" she said with confidence. Hours later her auction closed, she had made eleven dollars from a car salesman in New Zealand.

"So...... Uhh I guess that worked?"

"Yeah they don't always blow up. Usually they have to be funny or weird or else you gotta show some skin."

Billy's mom really wanted the money but she didn't wanna be one of those kind of women.

"So what kind of weird pictures sell on this market?"

"Okay this is an apple with a mouth on it that sold for one point five million dollars."

Billy's mom's jaw dropped.

"That's more than.... than I've ever made! More than your father has ever made!"

"Yeah but you gotta sell it to Russian oligarchs."


"Well they poison journalists and stuff."

"Billy! This is no time to let morality get in the way of your father and I retiring for the rest of our lives! Go find us something weird to be an NFT!"

"I get a finders fee right?"

Billy's mom agreed but she was a parent above all else so this was definitely a lie. What she was really doing was trying to remember the name of that legal thing that let Brittney Spears parents control her finances well into adulthood. She vowed to google it when Billy went to bed.

Billy, satisfied with this little white lie, went off looking for the goods, eventually he settled on a photograph of that power plant in china that was completely over-loaded by a single bitcoin mining operation. That had the ironic potential to power his entire childhood from now on!

Long story short Russian Oligarchs poisoned him and his entire family with polonium.

reignofevil fucked around with this message at 03:57 on Sep 16, 2021

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

A cautionary tale about the dangers of polonium.

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

I apologize for my long string of stream of consciousness posts. My school schedule has made effortposting somewhat difficult lately. There's been more than once when I've considered just giving up on trying to post a story every day, but even when I'm just freestyling the stories, I find that writing every day helps keep me thinking about sci fi and fantasy concepts.

I've amassed a ton of ideas that I'd love to write about but just don't have the time or energy to fully develop. There's like, two or three new Cosmos XX ideas I want to try. Anyway thanks for reading if you've stuck with the thread thus far.

Jul 5, 2003

This is still the best thread.

Jun 8, 2001

The four most over-rated things in life are champagne, lobster, anal sex and picnics. Oh, and that stupid children's book 'The Little Prince,' ugh.

Yams Fan

I've enjoyed all of your posts, ya got nothing to apologize for.

I'm stealing the invisible story though.

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

Out Damned Spot

By 2036, the global water crisis has reached critical levels. Clean drinking water is inaccessible to 60% of humanity, and the remaining 40% guards their supply jealously.

A desperate solution is implemented: fresh water will be reserved for drinking only. All bathing, cleaning and hand washing will be done with the blood of poor people.

"I think it's wrong to wash our hands with the blood of poor people," said Johnny Jones.

"That's a bit hypocritical considering you also have blood on your hands," said Johnny's neighbor, Aaron. "Have you tried never washing your hands again?"

"But we all have to wash our hands five times a day because of SuperCOVID-30," said Johnny.

"That's a choice you have to make for yourself," said Aaron. "I guess you decided your life was more important than the lives of all those poor people we grind up every day."

Johnny hung his head in shame. Aaron was right. How dare he criticize a system where he himself had blood on his hands?

While Johnny went back to his house to puzzle that one out, the ultra rich kept gleefully feeding poor people into giant blenders.

Aaron turned on his lawn sprinklers and grinned as a tide of poor-person blood washed over his lawn and painted the side of his house.

The End.

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

Yellow Light

"Behold!" said Doctor Malice. "I've invented a new kind of traffic light that can detect when the driver of an oncoming car needs to pee, then turns red!"

"Perfect!" said Doctor Fiend. "These new traffic lights will torment thousands of people!"

"There's nothing worse than being stuck at a red light than when you need to pee!" cackled Doctor Malice.

"When do you plan to introduce your invention?" asked Doctor Fiend.

"I already have!" said Dr. Malice. "Every traffic light is like this!"

Dr. Malice and Dr. Fiend cackled together as lightning flashed outside the castle.

The End.

Nov 7, 2008

Sometimes you gotta break the rules.

The Work in Progress


Phil Sternum stretched after another sleepless day working on his dream project. He had been taking exhaustive notes well into the night and by next morning he squinted against the light and checked back with everything he had learned with everything he had once thought he had known. In other words he read his notes from a week prior. He scoffed at his false assumptions and then chided himself. "If only there was some way I could know now what I knew then!"

Suddenly a smoking hole in the space time continuum opened up over his coffee table and some papers fell out before it closed itself as abruptly as it had came. Phil checked the papers and lo and behold... They were his notes! From.... Why it looked they were dated from next week. They were basically the notes he already had but way messier, with tons of asides scribbled in the margins. He thought he could figure out the overall picture... but he wasn't sure. This would need study. And analysis.

In order to analyze these relics from the future Phil first had to catalog and organize the information in a way that made the most sense to him. The Phil Sternum who had written these notes had been groping blindly, everything flowed in a painfully linear order and had tons of spots where he would interrupt his thoughts entirely to scrawl down some new formula or insight into the process in which he had been analyzing his dream project. So the first order of business was taking all the asides and sorting them at the beginning like a vocabulary reference sheet and then sorting the process-notes into a larger pile at the back. As Phil went through the notes he saw a couple things that just kinda stuck out to him so he noted down a little bit of his own about the process using footnote notation. He got to the end and he was shocked to discover that his time-companion hadn't yet finished the project! The notes were half done at best. With some discontent he put up the notes and went to bed, but just before he scrawled on his newly organized notes, "What do you think?"

The next day he awoke to fresh papers. It was his notes, from the future.

"This won't do at all" they read. Italicized and everything. gently caress. "I wanted you to solve the other half for me! So I'd have it right now! You just made it all prettier!"

Well, some thank you Phil thought to himself about himself. But he understood, this project was burning inside him and he could recall thinking many times he would give ANYTHING to have just gotten everything done so he could be proud of all the work he did. Obviously he'd even send his own notes through time. And under such a short time-frame! Phil was curious about how exactly he had invented time travel within six days of his current time but simultaneously had failed to finish up this dream project but obviously one had turned out to be significantly easier than the other. Maybe the delivery people invented it so they could process a gigantic glut of mail that had all come through at once and then they dropped a time-box off at my house.

Phil's work was never done and so he spent his time late into the night refining his notes a second time. He really did try to find it but the future-notes had been so drat hard to read and his handwriting hadn't been that much better the second time around. He spent the second night redoing it all in cursive, for his own sake.

The day after he had a new set of notes. This one had gotten a little bit further but had in red ink bold font "YOUR CURSIVE SUCKS, CAN'T READ IT"

Phil didn't understand how that could even be possible! He had known what he was writing when he wrote it! He looked at his own cursive. Oh. Well okay those S's could be a little bit less.... like R's. And truth be told he had no idea how to write the letter Z in cursive I mean who really did. Okay so maybe his whole font was more like a loopy squiggle, fine for signing your name but not worth a poo poo to read.

Back to work then. He'd type it and email it to himself. He set the subject line to the future as a little joke for himself to lower tensions a bit since he wasn't getting any of the solving done.

He scanned the diagrams which were still all good to go and had basically no scribbled out pieces by this fourth copy of his notes. It only took half a night so Phil finally got to work on trying to figure out that tiny bit of notes that had been added since the last message from the future. It looked like his future counterpart had started copying some of his style conventions from the second set of notes, and had started writing the date all fancy and loopy. Everything else was hand-written though. No progress was made but Phil was liking that his future self was imitating him. That's basically the highest form of flattery!

The next day he received printed notes back, typed. "MUCH BETTER. TODAY WE CRACK THIS."

Phil clenched his fist in solidarity. Yeah! He and himself, working together on the same basis of information! Printed! How could he have been so blind!

Ah. The toner was completely hosed.

Phil wrote back "The Toner is completely hosed. I can't read any of this."

He got results within minutes. Unfortunately the printed notes were actually WORSE. Like somehow he had less toner to work with than ever!

Phil thought about it..... He had written back to his partner... using his printer to print out the notes, a physical copy to emphasize how serious this was.

He got his pen back out.

"NO" he wrote on the notes, "Check the toner stupid! Page 41! I can't read any of this!"

Silence. This took longer than Phil expected which considering how time travel works makes no sense. Maybe it meant Future-Phil was a bit embarrassed, a special kind of universal force that travels almost exclusively from the past to the future. Maybe in his embarrassment he had tried to save face by subtly adjusting the time-knob, to put some space between the event for both of them.

"poo poo." he received back. "Going to the store to get toner."

So now Phil waited. Just after dinnertime he got his next notes which he thought was considerate of himself.

The new notes were black all the way through! Quickprinted, but by this point Phil didn't need any extra convincing on the importance of using the cheapest possible toner consumption. It was.... Basically everything he already had, except now the charts were made in Excel. His future self had added rounded buttons to the page-count. He had used some vector clip-art here and there. Every page had a nice rectangular border. Otherwise it was exactly the same.

Phil went to bed. He'd solve this in the morning.

The next morning he found no new notes waiting for him which suited him just fine. He ate a hardy breakfast and he went to work. He understood the first half of his process now front and back, no doubt about it. Could recite it from memory.

Now stage two meant learning an entirely new discipline. He opened up some tutorials and some wikipedia pages and he sighed. He was basically starting from square one if he wanted to complete the second half of his dream project. He resolved that he was at least a master of everything he had to do for the first part!

New notes. Scribbled. Mostly in chronological order with asides, began to pile up at his lap. He went to bed that night and the next morning he received his own notes back. But this time better organized. The asides having been collected at the front into a kind of vocabulary reference sheet. The notes on process organized into linear order afterwards. On the back of the last page he had scribbled "By the way this is how you invent a time machine" with some instructions. So that worked out just fine.

Aug 16, 2014


Nap Ghost

I think I've been very good these past few days. It's time to indulge myself and write a story about a dragon with big knockers.

The Kiss of the Dragon


Boobies and Bundt Cakes

One morning when Mary Beth was setting up her pastry display, she was startled to see a dragon staring at her through the front window of the shop.

The dragon had her face pressed up against the glass, the steam from her nostrils forming twin plumes of condensation on the window. The dragon's enormous bosom also squished against the glass, forming a pair of dark circles bigger than serving platters at Mary's eye level. Mary blushed and looked away when she realized the cleft she'd been staring stupidly into was the canyon of the dragon's cleavage.

The pastry chef tried to ignore the dragon and finish setting out her wares, but she could sense the gaze of the yellow eyes as if they were a pair of lamps blazing on the edge of her vision.

The dragon eyed the confections hungrily, swishing her long, scaly tail like a cat watching a mouse. Passers by had to give the swishing tail a wide berth to avoid getting skewered by the long, ivory spines of the dragon's thagomizer.

Mary Beth finally gave up on trying to ignore the dragon and stepped outside the shop to speak with the creature.

The dragon started at the sound of the shop bell and hurriedly stepped back from the shop window. A half-moment later, the dragon's boobs came unstuck from the glass with a soft popping sound. She stood there looking awkward.

By the dragon's clothes, May Beth judged her to be a member of one of the many gangs of adventuring bravos that had become a common sight about the city ever since the dungeon had been discovered in the hills outside of town. The rowdy adventurers had brought much wealth into the town from their delvings into the dungeon, but with it they brought drunkeness, disorder and violence.

The beast wore a low-cut leather cuirass that strained to hold back the burgeoning bosom inside. A dagger the size of a short sword hung from the dragon's belt, and she carried a proportionately-sized longsword in a sheath across her back. A patch on her shoulder with the silhouette of a black gauntlet on a yellow field declared her company allegiance. Like most mandrakes, the dragon was wingless and stood roughly erect on a pair of muscular, digitigrade legs ending in taloned, three-toed feet. At her full height she would be a little over eight feet tall with a long, bendy neck that accounted nearly two feet of height all by itself. Her head was a little smaller than a mule's, crowned by a pair of tightly curling horns like those of a ram. A ruby-red gem set in the center of her forehead glowed faintly with its own light. Her breath was hot even at a distance and smelled like struck flint.

Mary Beth had originally come out with the intention of confronting the dragon, but she could see now from the creature's attitude that she meant no harm. Despite her imposing stature, the dragon seemed apologetic. Her ears drooped and her long neck curved back so that she tucked her chin into the top of her cleavage.

Mary Beth sighed. "We're open if you'd like to come in," she offered.

The dragon looked herself up and down, curling her hefty tail around to assess its length, twisting this way and that to evaluate her large body, from her monstrous melons to her thunderous thighs.

"Thank you for the offer, but I don't think I could fit," said the dragon after she'd compared her size to the interior space of the shop.

Mary Beth found herself agreeing with the assessment. Even if the dragon could squeeze herself through the door, she was too bulky to move around comfortably, and that tail would probably be a hazard.

"If you know what you want, I could bring something out to you," Mary Beth offered.

"I'd have to eat a bushel of those tiny cakes to fill my belly." The dragon grabbed twin fistfuls of her substantial stomach and jiggled it up and down. "At the prices you charge, it would cost every penny I have for even a modest meal!"

Mary Beth scoffed.

"Pastries aren't meant to be a meal, they're a treat. Even humans don't eat them to get full. It's just a snack to take the edge off," she explained.

"I don't understand," said the dragon.

"Wait a moment." The shop bell jingled as Mary Beth disappeared inside. She reappeared with a lemon tart cupped between her palms. "Here, try this."

The lemon tart vanished down the dragon's gullet in a single gulp. She didn't even chew!

"You're supposed to savor it!" exclaimed Mary Beth.

She went back inside and returned with another tart.

"Okay this time close your eyes and stick out your tongue," said Mary Beth.

The dragon looked skeptical, but did as Mary Beth requested. The long, pink appendage was nearly the size of Mary Beth's entire arm, dripping with saliva. The dragon's hot breath washed over Mary Beth like a desert wind. Wincing, Mary Beth gingerly placed the tiny tart on the tip of the dragon's tongue.

"Now just hold it in your mouth and chew it for a few seconds without swallowing," said the pastry chef.

The dragon wound her tongue back between her choppers and chewed on the tart. Her expression turned from skepticism to excitement in a flash.

"This is really good!" she said. "There's so much flavor!"

Mary Beth smiled.

"Do you have any more?" asked the dragon, fishing her coin purse from between her cleavage.

After that, the dragon became a regular customer. Whenever she returned from a venture into the dungeon, her first stop would be Mary Beth's patisserie.

"What's your name?" asked Mary Beth. "The people around here just call you 'Boob Dragon.'"

The dragon scoffed with mock anger. "How insulting! My name is Mugella."

"I should have guessed. It seems like every other dragon I hear about is named Mugella," said Mary Beth.

"I'm not surprised. It's a name with a long and proud history among our people," said Mugella.

"What does it mean?" asked Mary Beth.

"In my tongue it means 'Boob Dragon,'" said Mugella.

Mary Beth and Mugella both burst out laughing.

"Can you breathe fire?" asked Mary Beth.

"Of course!" said Mugella, a bit insulted.

Mugella's throat pouch inflated and she belched out a large fireball that elicited cries of alarm from passers by.

"I wish I could breathe fire," said Mary Beth, awed by the display. "It would make baking such a breeze!"

"A human can gain the ability to breathe fire," said Mugella.

"How?" asked Mary Beth.

"A kiss from a dragon!" Mugella closed her eyes and pursed her lips, making kissy sounds.

Mary Beth laughed and pushed the dragon away, pretending to be indignant for her chastity.

Another time, Mary Beth and Mugella sat on the front stoop of the patisserie while Mugella munched on lemon tarts (her favorite). Mary Beth asked Mugella about the ruby in the dragon's forehead.

"That's my sun stone," said the dragon. "All mandrakes are born with a gem in their foreheads. It's the source of our magic. Mine is a sunstone, so it recharges in sunlight. Other dragons have moonstones that draw magic from moonlight, or sea pearls that draw magic from the sea."

"Can you show me a spell?" asked Mary Beth.

Mugella closed her eyes. Her stone glowed and iridescent symbols appeared in the air around the gem. A moment later, a powerful gust of wind rushed up the street and blew up the skirts of a passing woman.

Mary and the dragon laughed uproariously.


Mugella had just returned from a very profitable venture to the deepest depths of the dungeon. Her purse bulged with silver and gold. It was almost evening, so she hurried up the cobbled streets to reach the patisserie before Mary Beth closed for the night.

Her ears drooped when she saw that the light in the window was already out.

"Maybe tomorrow," sighed Mugella. Then her ears perked up. It wouldn't hurt to pass by the shop anyway and peek inside.

Drawing closer, Mugella noticed the door was ajar, and she could hear muffled voices coming from inside. Angry voices.

Mugella's eyes narrowed. She dropped to all fours and slunk up to the door like a crocodile, flattening herself as best she could against the cobbles. A faint light glowed through the door to the kitchen.

"You better pay us the money or else we can't guarantee your protection!" hissed an angry voice.

"There's some rough characters in town these days," said another voice. "It would be a shame if someone smashed up your little pastry shop!"

"Please, I gave you everything I had last time you were here," pleaded Mary Beth.

At the sound of Mary Beth's tearful voice, Mugella felt her draconic rage kindle inside her. She pushed the door open.

Dingaling! jangled the shop bell.

Mugella cursed.

"What was that?" said someone. "Shanks, go check it out!"

"Right!" answered Shanks.

A moment later, Shanks emerged from the kitchen, knife at the ready. He walked right into Mugella's tits.

Mmrff! cried Shanks.

Mugella squeezed her bosom together, trapping Shanks in her boobs, smothering him of oxygen and muffling his cries. He struggled, but she was many times stronger than the lean, evil man and escape was impossible. She held him there until he stopped moving, then let him drop to the floor.

Moving gingerly so as not to topple any shelves, Mugella crept through the shop toward the kitchen. With her head at the threshold of the kitchen, the tip of her thangomizer just barely stuck out the front door. She would be in close quarters if it came to a fight.

Mugella stuck her head into the kitchen. A pair of rough-looking men dressed in bravo gear loomed over Mary Beth. One of the puffy shoulders of her dress was torn, exposing a pale, freckled shoulder. Her eyes were tearful, but defiant. They went as wide as saucers when she looked up and saw Mugella squeezing through the door into the kitchen.

"What's taking Shanks so long?" wondered one of the toughs.

"He got a little winded and had to lie down," grunted Mugella.

The toughs both turned around in alarm. One of them brandished a knife, but Mugella's gem flared and the knife glowed red hot in his hand. He dropped it with a howl of pain. The other went for his blade but the dragon seized his arm and twisted it in its socket until it popped like a chicken wing. He started to scream, but his cries were cut short when Mugella closed her paw around the man's throat. She lifted both men into the air by their necks.

"I'm going to bite your heads off!" roared Mugella.

Mary Beth screamed and recoiled in terror. The look in her eyes as she cowered back from Mugella was so fearful that the dragon froze in place.

She's looking at me like I'm a monster, thought Mugella. The thought of sweet Mary Beth seeing Mugella as a killer was too heartbreaking for the dragon to bear.

She looked back at the two bravos. "If I let you go, do you promise to leave this woman alone and never come back?" she growled.

The men nodded hastily. Mugella tossed the men out onto the street, followed a moment later by the unconscious body of Shanks. The pair grabbed their compatriot and hurried off down the street, one with a mangled arm flapping loosely at his side.

Mary Beth had to be soothed out of her shock. They sat together in a circle of lamplight outside the shop.

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that," said Mugella. "I didn't want those men to hurt you."

"I-it's alright," said Mary Beth. She drew the blanket closer around her shoulders. "I know... I know you must have done much worse in your line of work. I shouldn't have been so surprised."

Mugella scratched her muzzle pensively. She had done much worse, but the times when she was violent had always been far away from her life in the town. She imagined her violent deeds were something she could shed like her scales whenever she returned to the pastry shop.

Mary Beth's expression hardened.

"I wish you had killed them," she said. "They'll just be back again as soon as you leave."

"Then I'll stay," said Mugella. She put a burly arm around Mary Beth's shoulders and let the woman rest on her warm pillows.


For the next two weeks, Mugella guarded Mary Beth's patisserie like a hawk, marching up and down the street with murder in her eyes, glaring down every customer who entered the shop and eyeing every pedestrian with suspicion.

"Mugella you're scaring my customers away," said Mary Beth. "Can't you be a little less conspicuous?"

"Less conspicuous" is a pretty tall order for a nine hundred pound dragon with giant knockers, but Mugella did her best. She swapped out her armor for a long, billowy, flower-patterned muumuu and big floppy straw hat, but for some reason it didn't seem to make much difference.

"I'm so grateful to you for rescuing me and watching over my shop," said Mary Beth, "but I think you may have scared them off for good. I asked around and nobody's even seen those men in town for days."

"They're just laying low," said Mugella, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at an old woman about to enter the shop. The old woman whimpered in fear and decided to get her pastries on the other side of town.

Mary Beth frowned. "Don't you have adventuring to do?" she asked the dragon.

Truth be told, Mugella's company had been pressuring her to get ready for another dungeon run. The dwarves had just discovered a new labyrinth on the other side of the mountain and there was already a rush to be the first to haul off the treasure before it was all gone. If Mugella's party didn't move quickly, the dungeon would be picked clean by the time they got there.

"The new dungeon is ten days' journey from here," said Mugella. "I can't leave you alone for that long. What if something happens?"

"I'll be fine." Mary put a reassuring hand on Mugella's scaly forearm. "I've sent for my cousin to come from Kingstown. He's a musketeer in the King's guard."

The King's guard were reputable fighters, but Mugella was sure she could still do a better job.

"I'm expecting him the day after tomorrow," said Mary Beth. "Maybe tomorrow if the roads are good."

Mugella took a deep breath and worked her jaw. It was true she'd seen neither hide nor hair of the gang since that night, and Mugella had been sniffing all over town for them. Maybe they really had fled to safer hunting grounds.

Two days later, Mugella stopped by Mary Beth's shop in the early morning on her way to the town gates. Mary's cousin still hadn't arrived, but he'd sent word by messenger crow that he'd be there by that afternoon at the latest.

"I can stay with you until he gets here," said Mugella. "I can catch up with my party on the road."

"No it's fine," said Mary. "Hurry before all the treasure is gone!"

She spanked the dragon on the back of her tail to speed her down the hill toward the gate.


Mugella's party spent ten days on the road, and another week in the dungeon. By the time they returned to town, laden with treasure and singing boastful songs of their exploits, over a month had passed since Mugella had seen Mary Beth.

While exploring the trap-filled catacombs of the dungeon, Mugella had nearly been able to forget her anxiety about leaving Mary Beth alone. The hulking dragon warrior had her hands full wrestling mutant crocodiles and venomous cave-serpents, smashing open treasure chests and kicking down doors. On the road back home, the tightness in Mugella's chest grew and grew, so that by the time they saw the walls of the town rising over the ridge, the busty dragon thought her heart would explode.

She told the rest of her party she'd meet them at the alehouse and hopped off the back of the wagon as soon as it passed through the town gates. She galloped up the hill toward the patisserie.

She could smell something was wrong before she even crested the hill. The air smelled like smoke. Like wet charcoal after the rain has doused a bonfire.

There was nothing left of the patisserie but the brick oven sitting in the blackened skeleton of the bottom floor. The second story, where Mary Beth lived, had collapsed inwards into a tangled heap of charred sticks. The shops to either side were heavily blackened by smoke, but otherwise unharmed.

Mugella raged. She seized the proprietor of the neighboring shop by the shoulders and shook him.

"Where is she?" roared Mugella.

"W-where's who?" squeaked the terrified green grocer.

"Mary Beth!" bellowed Mugella, flinging saliva into the green grocer's face.

"S-she's at her sister's house," said the green grocer.

"Thank the gods she's alive," said Mugella, loosening her grip on the shivering shopkeeper.

"She's in a bad way," said the green grocer. "Her cousin died pulling her out of the fire."

Mugella got the sister's address from the green grocer and hurried there as fast as she could.

Mary Beth's sister, Suzy Beth, lived in the upper story of a wattle and daub row house in a less-prosperous quarter of town. Houses slouched against one another in uneven rows. The streets were narrow and winding, and there was little room for a dragon to maneuver even without big boobs. The rickety exterior stairs up to Suzy's house protested vehemently under Mugella's weight, and the dragon had to move carefully for fear of bringing the whole house down.

"She's resting," said Suzy as she escorted the dragon to the bedroom door to look in on Mary.

Mugella was too large to fit through the tiny door, but she craned her neck in as far as it would go. Mary Beth broke into a violent coughing fit that went on for some time.

"It's her lungs," said Suzy. "She inhaled a lot of smoke."

"Who did this to her?" asked Mugella.

"It was the Stabby Boys," said Suzan. "They showed up just a few days before you got back. They set fire to the shop in the middle of the night."

Mugella's face darkened. Her yellow eyes blazed with anger. Suzan backed away from the heat radiating off the dragon's body.

"I'll take care of this," said Mugella, seething. "And I'll send a doctor to treat Beth."

"Don't provoke the Stabby Boys any more," said Suzan. "They're too dangerous."

"Not as dangerous as me," said the dragon.


Mugella stabbed her sword into the center of her party's table at the Pig & Poke alehouse.

"We're going after the Stabby Boys," she declared.

The rest of the party exchanged looks.

"Why are we going after the Stabby Boys?" asked Marvin, the party cleric.

"I have a score to settle with them," said Mugella.

She told the story of what they'd done to Mary Beth and her shop.

"The wisest thing to do is just let it go. Be thankful that Mary Beth is still alive and leave it at that. She can get a new shop," said Chaldric.

Mugella couldn't believe her ears! Usually the boisterous knight-errant was the first to settle any grudge on behalf of anyone in the party.

"They tried to burn her alive!" exclaimed Mugella. "They murdered her cousin!"

"I don't think we should get involved," said Sneaky, the rogue. "It's not our business."

Mugella was indignant.

"Sneaky, when your uncle Stinky's farm was attacked by goblins, we all dropped everything to run to his rescue!" said Mugella.

Sneaky looked uncomfortable. "This is different," said the rat-faced thief.

"How's it different?" demanded Mugella.

The rest of the party looked uncomfortable. Finally the cleric sighed and leaned forward to explain.

"The Stabby Boys are the local lord's personal goon squad," explained the cleric. "If you mess with them, that puts you on the outs with the sheriff, the town guard, the gatekeepers, the courts, everybody!"

"We can't afford to get tossed out of town," said Chaldric.

"Just be glad the Stabby Boys stopped at burning down the shop," said Sneaky.

Mugella drew herself up to her full height, looking down at her party with scorn.

"Looks like I'm on my own, then," said Mugella.

"Don't expect us to come to your rescue," warned Sneaky.

"If you go after the Stabby Boys, we'll have no choice but to kick you out of the party," said Chaldric.

"Kick me out? I quit!" snapped Mugella.

The dragon stormed out of the alehouse and went stalking down the street, her yellow eyes glowing with murderous intent.


Dwink Shrugle stood guard outside the Stabby Boys' hideout in the gang part of town. A balloon bobbed from a string tied to Dwink's wrist. It was the boss's birthday that night and there was a huge party going on. All the Stabby Boys were there.

"Just my luck I'm stuck on guard duty," grumbled Dwink.

"Hey, balloon boy," said a sultry voice from the shadows.

Dwink peered into the darkened alley. A huge pair of tits appeared in the glow of the streetlamp, followed shortly by an equally-huge dragon. She was dressed in the skimpy, provocative outfit of a streetwalker, her massive tits pushed up level with her shoulders by a black bustier.

"I hear there's a big birthday going on," said the dragon. "I love birthdays. I'd do anything to get in."

"Anything, huh?" said Dwink. Maybe his luck was starting to turn around. He normally preferred human women but for boobs like that he wasn't going to be picky.

"Anything," purred the dragon.

"How 'bout we start with a kiss, luv?" said Dwink.

"Whatever you say, balloon boy," said Mugella.

She kissed Dwink full on the mouth. Mugella pressed herself in close, locking her lips around his. Dwink thrashed as she breathed fire directly down his throat. His body blew up like a balloon, swelling larger and larger with fire until he exploded.

Mugella held Dwink's severed head between her paws, an expression of pure terror and agony frozen on his face. Up in the sky, a loose balloon drifted over the rooftops.

Mugella tossed the smoldering head over her shoulder and barged through the door.

Moments later, the loud music and laughter of the party gave way to screams and shrieks of pain. Blood splattered across the insides of the windows. Mugella's silhouette lifted the figure of a flailing man to her snout. Her jaws clamped down over his head.

The vengeful dragon mowed down Stabby Boys like a reaper at harvest. They struck at her with swords and axes but her dragon hide deflected all but the strongest blows. She skewered a Stabby Boy on her thagomizer and catapulted him over her head at another attacker. Another man leaped at her from the side. He grabbed a fistful of her sleeve, but she tossed him aside like a ragdoll. Her company insignia came away with him.

"Keep it," she told him before crushing his ribcage with her talons.

Finally it was just her and the boss.

"Y-you'll pay for this!" said the leader of the Stabby Boys, scrambling backwards across the bodies of his fallen comrades. "You know who I work for?"

Mugella picked a tooth out of her cleavage and flicked it away. "I don't give a gently caress who you work for," she growled.

"The lord's gonna be pissed when he hears about this!" said the boss. "You're gonna spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder!"

"So will you," said Mugella.

She grabbed the boss by the head and twisted it completely around so he was looking backwards.

She let him fall to the ground, gasping wordlessly for air. Mugella spit on him and strode out of the ruined hideout. It took the boss four minutes to die.


Mary Beth was sitting up when Mugella came to see her the next morning.

"You're covered in blood!" said Mary Beth. She doubled over in a coughing fit. Mugella rubbed her back until the fit subsided.

"I paid the Stabby Boys a visit," said Mugella. "You have nothing to fear from them any more."

"The Stabby Boys!" exclaimed Mary Beth. "Oh no! Don't you know who they work for?"

"I didn't leave any of them alive," said Mugella. "The lord will never find out who did it."

"Lord Wiggleston has spies everywhere!" said Mary. "He's sure to find out!"

"You just walked all the way here covered in blood," said Suzy. "Hundreds of people saw you come to this house! We're doomed!"

Mugella looked down at herself. Blood covered her all over and pooled in her cleavage.

"My old party might be able to look out for us until this blows over," said Mugella. "They owe me that much considering I haven't yet collected my share of the treasure."


Mugella got cleaned up as best she could and hurried to the adventurer's quarter where her company kept its headquarters.

"Okay, I know last night tempers were running high and we all said some things but—" Mugella froze in the doorway. Her jaw dropped.

There was blood everywhere. Chaldric's headless body swung from a rope dangling from the ceiling. Sneaky's dead, rat eyes stared sightlessly up at his legs, which were draped over the rafters above him. Bobson the cleric and Fickleton the mage had been reduced to smoldering piles of robes. Gronda, the barbarienne, stood skewered to the wall by a sword through her face, her eyes crossed comically as if trying to look down the blade.

"Oh poo poo," said Mugella.

Mugella spotted a patch of yellow on a post in the center of the room. It was her company patch, stuck there by a dagger with Lord Wiggleston's emblem on the pommel.

"Oh poo poo!" said Mugella again.

As she hurried back out into the street, she spotted her own face on a wanted poster.

"Oh poo poo."

Well, actually the poster was just her boobs and the bottom two thirds of her neck, but the poster above it had her face!

REWARD, DEAD OR ALIVE, said the poster.

She looked up and down the street. Everyone was staring at her. Someone further up the street tugged at the sleeve of a guard and pointed in her direction.

"It's okay," said Mugella to herself, "just gotta blend in..."

She ducked her head down and hurried up the street. There was a commotion behind her. The guards were coming.

Where does an eight foot tall dragon woman go to hide? The town didn't have a dragon quarter where she could blend in. She stuck out like a huge pair of scaly knockers!

Movement off to the side. Her peripheral vision was as clear as her forward vision thanks to the fact her eyes were mounted on the side of her head. A knot of figures in black and silver moved through the crowd like smoke.

Lord Wiggleston's hit squad, no doubt. Probably the same assassins that had iced her party.

She had to skedaddle.

Something whizzed by her head. A crossbow bolt buried itself in the wall ahead of her. People started running for cover. She turned a corner. More men in black coming up the street. She was surrounded.

Nowhere to run, no way to hide.

Mugella drew her sword and planted her feet.

The first assassin leaped at her and she cut him in half with a horizontal slash.

A silver dart stuck in her left shoulder and she felt her arm going numb.

"You think I can't wield a sword one handed?" she growled, fending off another attack.

Electric blue energy crackled along the length of her blade, biting into her palm and climbing her wrist. Further down the street, a magician in black robes chanted rapidly while pointing his finger at her.

"gently caress you!" she spat, skewering a charging assassin on her electrified blade. Sparks danced across the man's skin and he spasmed on the tip of her sword. She withdrew her sword and lifted it for another blow.

At that moment the mage snapped his fingers and her sword exploded into shards, bouncing off the thick bone plating of her skull and biting into the softer flesh of her tits.

"Argh!" she tried to scream, but her throat felt like it was full of cotton. She couldn't move!

The mage was gesturing with his hands, waving them around like a semaphore. Even though he was over a block away, she could hear his voice chanting in her ears. A binding spell!

"Must... resist!" grunted Mugella through clenched teeth. Her jaw was locked, completely immobile. Her arms stiff at her sides as if bound by stout bonds. Glowing blue symbols began to dance in the air around her, circling her, linking up into a magical chain.

Mugella's sun stone blazed on her forehead as she poured every ounce of her magic into resisting the black mage's spell.

The mage's chanting grew louder.

"No!" roared Mugella.

Her gem cracked.

The blue symbols exploded. A thunderclap of sound felled everyone around her. At the other end of the street, the mage reeled from the backlash of the exploding spell.

Just moments to escape. Mugella turned and bolted for the city gates.


Mugella desperately wanted to warn Mary Beth and Suzan, but she dared not return to the city. There was still a chance the lord didn't know about her connection to Mary Beth, maybe he didn't even know Mary Beth was still alive!

She couldn't risk leading the assassins there. She had to stay away.

Night fell and Mugella made shelter as best she could in the forest outside of town. Without her gem, her fire breath was weak, barely enough to light a campfire. She had no magic to defend herself with. She could feel the strength draining out of her, the hardness of her scales fading. Soon she would be no more invulnerable than an ordinary reptile.

She spent a miserable night in the woods, and the next day in a fruitless hunt for food. The sound of her lumbering through the forest scared off every wild animal for miles around. She had little woodcraft, always depending on her magic to kill prey at a distance. Without it, she couldn't even catch a squirrel.


Stinky, the rat-faced farmer, was startled one morning to find a dragon draped over his fence, drooling at his flock of sheep.

He grabbed his pitchfork, ready to chase the beast off, but there was something familiar about this particular dragon. She had huge boobs as big as pumpkins that stuck out from between the rails of the fence.

"Mugella, is that you?" he asked.

Mugella looked up weakly.

"Uncle Stinky?" she said, peering at him through bleary eyes.

"You look half-starved," said Stinky. "Do you want me to fetch you something to eat?"

Mugella shook her head. "I'd need to eat a whole sheep at least. Ohhhh!"

Mugella fainted from hunger.

Stinky called his sons to help him get Mugella unstuck from the fence. They loaded her in the back of the wagon and carried her back to the farmhouse.

Mugella slept for a full day and ate three whole sheep after she woke up.

"It's the least I could do. I never paid you back properly for saving my farm from goblins," said Stinky. "How's my nephew doing?"

Mugella explained that Sneaky was dead, along with the rest of her party.

"That lord Wiggleston's got a lot to answer for," said Stinky, his little rat face scrunched up with anger. "You're gonna take him down, right?"

"I can't do anything without my magic gem," said Mugella, reaching up to feel the cracked stone in her forehead. She winced as a bolt of pain lanced through her brow.

"Hmm," said Stinky. "There might be something I can do about that."

Stinky left. His sons stood at the back of the room, staring at Mugella. Like their father, their heads were elongated and bestial, but they didn't have rat faces like their father and Sneaky. They were big boys, burly, with horns growing from the tufts of hair at the tops of their heads.

He came back a few minutes later with an ornate lacquered box.

"Did you know my late wife was a blue dragon?" he asked.

Mugella shook her head. She looked again at Stinky's sons, this time recognizing the dragon blood in them.

"When she passed away, she left this to me." Stinky opened the box and drew out a glowing blue gem. A moonstone!

"This was her forehead gem," said Stinky. "I use it sometimes to summon good weather for the crops, but I think you need it more."

"I can't take this!" Mugella protested.

He pressed it into Mugella's palm.

"Avenge Sneaky," he said. "And all the rest of them."

Mugella looked down at the moonstone. It was not unheard of for dragons to swap gems, but it wasn't something done lightly. Dare she?

That night, she dug the fragments of her sun stone out of her forehead with her claw. She set the moonstone into its socket. To her surprise it fit perfectly. She felt the strength return to her scales almost immediately.

A host of new spells rushed into Mugella's brain. Moonstones were more for support spells than attack magic. Among the usual magical tricks, she discovered she could now fade from sight, mesmerize people, even temporarily change her shape!

"I think I can use this," said Mugella.


The following night, Mugella used the power of the moonstone to sneak back into the town. She passed through the streets like a ghost.

She crept up the stairs to Suzan's house like a cat, the moonstone softening her steps so that her footfalls were lighter than a feather.

"Mugella!" cried Mary Beth. "I was afraid you were dead!"

"I was afraid you were dead!" cried Mugella. The two embraced in a squishy hug.

"Your gem!" Mary Beth noticed. "It's blue now."

"It's a moonstone," said Mugella. She pulled the fragments of the sun stone out of her cleavage.

"Oh dear," said Mary Beth.

"It's okay," said Mugella. "Because we're going to pay back Lord Piggleston."

"But how?" asked Mary.

"I have a plan," said the dragon.


They went back to the remains of the patisserie where the oven still stood. Mugella used her rejuvenated fire breath to keep the oven hot as Mary baked pastries like she'd never baked before. With the power of the moonstone, Mugella's fire came out blue instead of orange, but it burned just as well.

They worked all day until they had a whole cartload of pastries.

"Now I'll use my disguise powers to sneak these pastries into the castle disguised as a pastry chef," said Mugella.

"I'm coming with you," said Mary Beth. She tried to look brave, but she doubled over in a fit of coughing.

"No, it's too dangerous!" said Mugella.

"Do you even know the names of these treats?" asked Mary once she'd recovered. "What will you hand Lord Wiggleston if he asks for a raspberry popover?"

"Uhh, is that the one with the red stuff?" asked Mugella.

"What if he wants a canelle?" asked Mary.


"A tort? A bomboloni? A cruller?" Mary shook her finger in Mugella's face.

Mugella was speechless.

"Face it, nobody would believe you're a pastry chef," said Mary. "You need m—" she had to pause for another coughing fit. "You need me!"


That night, the guards at the gates of Lord Wiggleston's castle were surprised to see a pair of pastry chefs wheeling their cart across the bridge toward the gate. One was short and blonde, the other tall and red-haired with huge boobies.

"Halt! Identify yourselves!" said the guards.

"Lord Wiggleston sent for snacks," said Mary Beth, gesturing to her cart full of delicious pastries.

"You're late!" said the guard. "The dinner hour is nearly over!"

"Then we're just in time for the lord's just desserts," said the tall redhead.

"I don't like the way you just said that," said the guard, narrowing his eyes.

"Do you like these?" asked the redhead, bending low to show off her cleavage. The huge, pink melons glistened in the moonlight. For a moment, something gleamed behind the redhead's bangs, but the guards were too busy staring at her tits to notice.

"Y-you may pass," said the guards, hypnotized by the redhead's boobs.

"Thanks, boys," said Mary Beth. "Have one on the house."

She handed each of them a tart and followed the redhead through the gates.

One of the guards looked back to sneak a glance at the busty redhead's behind, and thought he caught a glimpse of a tail sticking out from under the woman's dress. She disappeared out of sight before he could get a better look.

The guard looked skeptically at his pastry, then shrugged and popped the rest into his mouth.


Once inside, Mugella dropped her disguise.

"I need to conserve energy," she said. "There's no moonlight in here to recharge."

As they made their way toward the great hall where the nightly feast was in progress, they heard footsteps coming the other way.

"Disguise yourself, hurry!" said Mary Beth.

Mugella's moonstone glowed and her body morphed back into the form of the busty redhead just as a figure dressed in black came around the corner.

The court mage! He wore a scowl on his face. He'd just been chastened by Lord Wiggleston for his failure to scry out the location of the fugitive dragon.

He eyed them suspiciously as they passed each other. For the briefest moment, Mugella's eyes met those of the mage. Then they were past.

Mugella breathed a sigh of relief.

Then she gasped, choking. Her real form reasserted itself!

"Mugella, what's wrong?" asked Mary Beth.

"Fools!" hissed the mage. "Did you think you could deceive my mage's eye?"

The mage began to chant, hissing and spitting as he wove a spell to choke the life out of Mugella. Her stone blazed on her forehead.

Not again, thought Mugella. Fear filled the pit of her stomach. She couldn't lose another gem!

"Stick this in your mage's eye!" said Mary Beth. She squirted him in the face with her frosting bag.

"Argh!" cried the mage. The lapse in concentration was enough for Mugella to break free of the spell. She boobie-slammed him into the wall. He slid to the ground between two circular indentations in the stone.

"Let's hurry and finish this," said Mary Beth.

Mugella transformed back into her disguise and the pair wheeled the cart into the great hall.

Lord Wiggleston sat in the big chair at the center of the table. He was huge and fat, like a hippopotamus. His fine silk clothes were stained with food, as if he'd been using the ruffles of his blouse as a napkin. Wine dribbled from between his fat, purple lips and he belched spectacularly as the women entered.

"What's this?" asked Lord Wiggleston, wiggling his stubby fingers excitedly.

"Pastries, my lord," said Mary Beth. "We have popovers, turnovers, bundts, tarts, tortes—"

"Who cares what they're called?" said Wiggleston impatiently. "Let me see them!"

Mary Beth hid her frown and pulled the cloth back from her assortment of treats.

The huge, fat lord squinted at the tiny pastries.

"Bring them closer!" he demanded. "I can't be expected to decide from so far away!"

Mugella and Mary Beth wheeled the cart right up to the table.

Wiggleston scowled down at the cart full of pastries.

"Is that all? I'd need a whole bushel full to sate my appetite!" said Wiggleston.

"You don't eat pastries to get full," growled Mugella.

"What was that?" asked Wiggleston.

"You don't eat pastries to get full," said Mugella, louder.

"Insolence! Why should I eat them, then?" demanded the bloated lord.

"You eat them to take the edge off!" roared Mugella. She grabbed the hilt of the sword they'd concealed beneath the pastries and slashed it across Wiggleston's belly.

"Argh!" he cried as the contents of his stomach spilled out onto the table, much of it still recognizable as the dish it had been before Wiggleston ate it.

"Don't you even chew?" asked Mary Beth.

"My dinner! My dinner!" cried Wiggleston, snatching at the foodstuffs as they spilled out of his belly and trying to eat them again. "Guards! Seize them!" he shouted between bites.

Mugella dropped her illusion and transformed back into a fearsome dragon. She let out an ear-splitting roar and leaped into the fray, slashing at the guards as they fumbled in confusion.

One of the guards almost got the drop on Mugella, but Mary Beth nailed him in the face with a cherry tart.

"Ha!" said Mary Beth.

Mugella bit the man's face off. His skeleton face screamed in agony. Mary Beth winced in disgust.

"I couldn't let a cherry tart go to waste!" said Mugella.

The other guards finally got organized and advanced on Mugella and Mary Beth with a wall of spears. More guards arrived to block off the exit.

"Ha ha! You're trapped!" laughed Wiggleston. The laughter caused a new avalanche of food to spill from his slashed-open belly.

"I've brought one more snack with me, lord PIGgleston!" said Mugella. She fished the fragments of her sun stone out of her cleavage.

"What's that?" asked Wiggleston. "Rock candy?"

"My sun stone!" said the dragon. She tossed the gem fragments down her gullet and pushed Mary Beth behind her.

Her fire pouch immediately started to swell. It swelled bigger and bigger, growing translucent as the flames glowed inside.

Mugella opened her mouth and unleashed a blast of white hot flame. It seared the flesh from Wiggleston's bones in an instant, the food spilling out of his belly curled and shriveled before the impossible heat. The guards screamed as their flesh blistered and ran like wax. She swept the torch of her flame across the hall, keeping Mary Beth behind her at all times. The table, the tapestries, the portraits the rafters anything and everything that could burn was set aflame. Even the stone began to glow with heat.

The great hall was all ablaze, and the fire quickly spread to the rest of the castle. Smoke filled the room.

Mugella was so busy surveying her handiwork she didn't notice Mary Beth coughing.

"Oh no! The smoke!" cried Mugella.

The inferno raged around them. Flaming beams crashed down from the cieling.

Mugella took Mary Beth and hurried out of the great hall.

"Which way?" the dragon might not have been bothered by the smoke, but she couldn't see through it! The flaming castle had become a death maze.

Mary Beth coughed and wheezed.

"Stay with me, stay with me!" said Mugella, hurrying from one smoke-filled passage to the next.

Finally the dragon spotted a window big enough to fit through and prayed there was something soft on the other side. She squished Mary Beth as deeply as she could between her scaly tits and leaped through the glass.

They splashed into the mud of the courtyard and rolled to a stop. Mugella pulled Mary Beth out of her tits with a sucking sound.

"We're out! You can breathe again!" said Mugella.

Mary Beth wheezed, erupting into a fit of coughing.

"Come on! Breathe!" pleaded Mugella. "Breathe!"

She tried to use the power of the moonstone to heal Mary Beth, but the gem was out of charge. The dragon looked up for the moon, but the smoke rising from the blazing castle blotted it out!

"It's just a little smoke!" cried the dragon. "Dragons breathe it all the time!"

Mary Beth raised her hand weakly and brushed Mugella's cheek.

"Our throats aren't fireproof," said Mary Beth, weakly. Her hand fell to her side.

"No!" said Mugella. "No!"

There was only one thing she could do.

Mugella pressed her lips to Mary Beth's. The dragon's throat glowed. The glow traveled up Mugella's throat down her muzzle, past Mary Beth's lips and settled in her throat.

A moment later, Mary Beth sat up, coughing explosively. The fit lasted for just a few seconds before clearing completely. She raised a hand to her throat. The glow lingered for a few moments, then faded.

"What...?" she asked, confused. She took a few deep breaths. Her lungs were completely clear!

"How?" she asked.

"The Kiss of the Dragon," said Mugella. "I've given you my ability to breathe fire. That comes with fireproof lungs."

Mary Beth took a deep breath and blew out a small spout of flame.

"This is wonderful, now we can both breathe fire!" said Mary Beth.

Mugella shook her head. "In order to give you the power, I had to give mine up," said the dragon.

"N-no! I can't take that from you! Take it back!" said Mary Beth.

"It can't be taken back," said Mugella.

"How will you go adventuring without your fire breath?" asked Mary.

"I think I've had enough adventuring," said Mugella.


With her adventuring party dead, Mugella got to keep all her teammates' share of the treasure. She spent it on a new, bigger pastry shop for Mary Beth. One big enough for a dragon to move around in, big boobs and all.

After all, with Mary Beth busy in the back baking the pastries with her dragon breath, somebody had to mind the store.

The End.

Happy Birthday, Stoner Sloth!

Applewhite fucked around with this message at 16:26 on Sep 19, 2021

May 29, 2001


10/10, just for using the word ‘thagomiser’. Story’s pretty good as well.


Nov 7, 2008

Sometimes you gotta break the rules.

Everybody gets stoned and decides to open a bakery!

  • 1
  • 2
  • 3
  • 4
  • 5
  • Post
  • Reply