Dragons Diet Dragon Tf

The so familiar rumbling of her captor's steps awoke princess Ophelia from her light slumber. The young woman rubbed her eyes, checking her reflection on the shiny treasure that laid near her sleeping spot.

With a slim yet pleasant hourglass figure, a soft bosom and surprisingly piercing eyes with her deep emerald eyes. Ophelia saw herself as the perfect vision of beauty, even among the naturally graceful elves. Her golden locks that cascaded down her back captured the gaze of many admirers throughout her kingdom. Suitors, from noblemen, to knights and merchants often gathered just to catch a mere glimpse of her figure. It was no surprise she was seen as a coveted prize in the eyes of men.

However, her latest admirer was far from a nobleman. He was the dreaded dragon, Belkax

And unlike the others who would send flowers, jewels or whole caravans of spices to gain Ophelia's attention. Belkax opted for a far more simple and direct approach: kidnapping her from her luxurious palace, and carrying the princess on his massive claws and soaring through the sky and out into his lair.

Despite the adrenaline of being hundreds of meters up in the sky, Ophelia remained surprisingly calm. After all, from the moment she was born, everyone around her had coddled and pampered the princess, ensuring that not even the slightest inconvenience marred her charmed life. Surely, some dashing knight would arrive to whisk me away before supper, she assumed.

But as hours became days, and days became weeks, time passed in the dark, treasure-filled cavern, with no rescue in sight.

"Of all the princesses in the world," she muttered to herself, "did he really have to pick me? Is it the hair?" Dragons do love gold." She sighed dramatically, as she tied her blonde hair into a ponytail. Even after this long, her silky voice was rich with the sort of indignation only a spoiled brat could express, even in these sorts of situations.

As the rumbling steps of her captor became louder, the elven princess prepared to greet him with the reverence he expected from her. "Good evening Lord Belkax," she said dryly, while giving the dragon a courtesy reserved only to those who were above her.

The dragon, a towering creature with scales darker than the shadows that he casted over her, gave Ophelia a small amused chuckle. "Defiant as ever I see," he replied, stepping over her, his claws inches away from turning the princess into a squashed insect.

Ophelia glanced up at him, observing the black dragon closely. Belkax was imposing as ever. His wings were folded at his sides, though they still gave the impression of being larger than life. Spikes ran down the length of his back, giving him an even more fearsome appearance. But surprisingly the horns atop of his head curled gracefully around it, framing themselves almost as a regal crown.

Despite his terrifying presence, Ophelia didn't waver, Instead she narrowed her eyes at him, still unbothered or maybe ignorant, by the obvious danger she found herself in by her constant disrespect and defiance.

"I shall go rest," the dragon's voice echoed around his lair, "I brought you substance. Eat." He ordered, dropping a cart with pillaged goods right in front of the princess, the wooden frame breaking into pieces and scattering the food around.

On impact, some of the squashed fruit stained Ophelia's dress. "This is real elven silk, you know," she muttered, casting an annoyed glance at Belkax. His answer was a mere flicker of his tail to make an even bigger mess that splashed against the princess.

"Rude," the princess huffed, cleaning herself off as best as she could.

Belkax continued to his sleeping quarters, leaving Ophelia alone with her thoughts once again.

Ideas of how to escape began to flood her mind as she looked over if there was anything edible in the mess that had once been a cart.

The lair was larger than she had ever imagined. The entrance alone was carved into the side of a mountain so high that she could see down into the clouds if she stood at the entrance.

"There's no way down from here," she thought grimly. "Not without falling to my doom."

Somehow the insides were even more intimidating: dark, sprawling and filled with the glittering spoils of Belkax's hoard. Gold coins from kingdoms long gone, shining relics from forgotten culture and ancient nameless artifacts were piled haphazardly across the ground, casting eerie reflections on the walls.

The dragon's cavern was silent, except for the distant rumbling sound of Belkax's snoring and the faint clicking of gold under Ophelia's cautious steps. She had wandered the lair before in the hope of finding a way out of here, to no avail so far. But this time she hoped this would be different.

Once again, Ophelia carefully picked her way through the mess of scattered gold and trinkets that laid around her. She kicked a gem the size of her fist out of the way, as she tried a few crowns encrusted to diamonds of incalculable price. Of course she did so for the chance of one of them having magical powers and not just to see how they looked on her.

Her delicate fingers skimmed over the surface of a jeweled goblet as she passed. "Focus," she muttered, shaking her head and throwing the crown to the side.

The deeper she went, the more the air around her seemed to...hum with something. There was something here that gave off an aura of power, something that felt alive.

She had been walking around for what felt like hours when her eyes caught a smaller glinting at the edge of her vision. Her curiosity piqued, she unburied the thing that had caught her attention: It was a dagger, slender and wickedly sharp as the day it had been forged. Intricate runes that meant nothing to the young woman adorned one side of the blade, a single transparent gem sat on the hilt. On the other side a single word adorned the blade: Hubris.

Ophelia hesitated for a second, her breath caught in her throat as she picked the dagger, its hilt cool and strangely comforting in her hands.

She knew little of weapons, others had wielded them for her. But something about Hubris called to her; reassured her that her next step would be the correct one.

The dragon's thunderous snores grew louder as Opheila slowly crept closer toward him. The mighty and fearsome dragon was sprawled out across his most valuable treasures, his chest steadily rising and falling with each breath he took.

Silently Ophelia crept closer and closer, the dagger clenched in a death grip in her hand. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing in her ears like a war drum that forced her to never stop marching forwards.

She had never been one for violence, others had done it for her. But now, standing over the massive beast, she knew it was now or never.

With one swift, precise motion, Hubris drove itself deep into the dragon's neck. Belkax's eyes flew open, glowing with shock, pain and fury...but it was too late. The blade had found its mark. A low agonized roar escaped the dragon's throat, his body twitching as he thrashed around.

Ophelia held onto Hubris for dear life, the dagger refusing to unanchor itself.

The dragon's roars became weaker by the second, before letting one final gurgling one as he collapsed to his death.

Ophelia stepped back, her dagger in hand as it tickled down the thick blood of her captor, the gem on the hilt taking the same shade of crimson. She had done it; she had slain the dragon.

For a moment there was only silence, the princess didn't even register the loud heaving of her breath as she observed the massive lifeless body in front of her.

Her initial triumph quickly gave way to the biggest realization of them all. Now what? She was still stuck in the dragon's lair, high up on a mountain with no way down.

For days, she wandered the cavern, clutching Hubris close to her chest as searched for any way to escape. Hunger starting to gnaw at her stomach after she ate the last of the food the black dragon had ruined. At first she refused to even consider it. The mere idea was too much for the princess.

But eventually, her instincts won out. There was nothing else to eat. And with the same weapon she had used to slain it, Ophelia steeled herself and began to consume the dragon's flesh. It wasn't a very princessly thing to do; far from it. But Ophelia wasn't feeling much like one at the moment.

And to her horror, it wasn't the worst meat she had eaten in her life.

The changes were subtle at first. Ophelia noticed how her strength was returning, faster than she had expected. And then she felt a strength that she knew didn't belong to her, began to fill up her body.

Then came the strange sensations, her body felt heavier, her skiing tingling with an unfamiliar feeling. "That's the only thing I was missing," she grumbled as she scratched at the patches of dry skin that began to appear on her arms and legs, "I'm allergic to dragon's meat."

Day by day, the changes became more pronounced. The dry skin gave away to small patches of black scales, dark like Belkax's. Once she noticed these changes, she refused to keep eating the dragon for a whole week, until the hunger forced her back.

The massive remains of her former captor was a sight that left her speechless each time she saw it. The dragon looked no different from the moment she killed him. Like it got frozen in time the moment she struck him down. She hesitated, refusing to do it again until the complaints of her empty stomach were too much to bear.

"Even in death, you keep finding ways to bother me," Ophelia muttered as she sliced another chunk out of the black dragon's body. She grimaced as she brought it to her lips, trying to ignore how she was getting used to the taste of it.

The first bit had been difficult, impossible even! But now? Now she hardly hesitated. Worse still, the more she ate the more her body kept on adapting, and the more she adapted the more she...enjoyed it.

Her body continued to change with every bite, and over the days the patches began to spread across her arms and legs. The scales at first constantly itched, an itch she tried to scratch with her sharpening nails. But to her horror and surprise these changes felt good. After the initial discomfort, there was an undeniable sensation that boarded on pleasure.

At first, she told herself this was a necessary sacrifice. She would 'endure' this for now, and once she was saved, the royal apothecaries would find a way to reverse this.

But as the days passed, and her back began to ache and crack as bones and muscles began to reshape themselves, she could no longer deny it, the changes excited her. Her big smile fully showcased her growing fangs, as she admired the small leathery nubs that had sprouted on her back, on the hoard: Her future wings. Caressing it with her fingers sent a jolt of pleasure that made her whole body shudder in excitement.

The more she consumed, the more pleasure surged through her, lighting her veins with an intoxicating power. She could feel the strength of the dragon merging with her own elven grace as the black scales began to lighten up, taking a more golden hue that was similar to her hair's tone.

"Beautiful," over the next few days, Ophelia often found herself admiring her constantly changing body, even being proud of it. So much so, that she even forgo wearing her dress. It had begun to get ripped by her sharp scales. Besides, her figure was a thousands times more beautiful than that old thing could show

The transformation clearly wasn't merely physical. Her thought process changed too without her notice. Her pride, already big enough to rival a dragon's before the changes, soared to new heights. And she finally realized the undeniable appeal of the hoard of treasures, it was the only thing that could reflect their own magnificence! No wonder they were so obsessed with them!

By the time her wings had grown big enough to carry her, Ophelia had started to lay upon the heaps of gold from her hoard, basking in its warmth and her own splendour, knowing that she was now more magnificent than ever before.

At no point did they feel even remotely foreign, they felt like an extension of herself from the moment she tested them. Her powerful muscles rippled beneath her golden scales, the wind rushing beneath them as she soared the sky for the first time. It was liberating.

And that was when the realization hit her. She could leave if she wanted now. Her wings would easily carry her down from her lair, back to the world she once knew...but why would she do it?

The idea of returning to her old life, to the kingdom that seemingly forgot about her these last few months, no longer appealed to her. Why should she leave? Why return to being a mere princess when she was so much more now.

What had once been her prison now felt like her own personal palace...no, her own lair.

Admiring herself on the reflection of the pile of treasure, she grew increasingly enamoured by her figure. A mix of humanoid and draconic features.

She was easily three meters tall now, and she could feel deep down that she would keep growing. Belkax had been massive after all, given enough time and she would match his size.

She caressed her chest with a clawed hand, tracing the contours of it. She had barely noticed how her breasts had faded away, only leaving a smooth scaled surface.

There was no sight of her once soft and pampered skin, every inch of her body was covered by her glistening golden scales that shimmered with every movement.

But the change that should have alerted her the most, the transformation of her face, only excited her to no end. The way her delicate features had sharpened, her elongated jawline forming a snout that contained her long and sharp fangs. How her eyes seemed to gleam with a bright emerald, full of a predatory allure.

Each glance at her reflection only stirred her ego further. The sharp ridges, every edge that graced her features, she marveled at how every monstrous feature only seemed to emphasize her inherent grandeur.

Her mouth curled into a self-satisfied smirk, the sinister gleam of her teeth adding a dangerous edge to her smile. Ophelia didn't just feel magnificent, she felt godlike.

"Ophelia, hmmm..." That name no longer felt right in her mind. "I should think of something more appropriate. Something fitting of my greatness." Unfolding her wings and wiping her tail against the ground, the new dragoness took flight, thinking about ways to grow her hoard.

Of course, the bigger her ambitions grew and the more she flexed her new freedom to do as she pleased, the more she had to deal with pestering fools, trying to take out the old beast she had vanquished many moons ago.

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A Year Later

After an arduous journey, Lady Priscilla had finally reached the lair of the malevolent dragon Belkax. Donning a dented armour, the once polished sheen had been dulled by the grueling journey. Her heart raced, her grip tightening around the hilt of her sword. The Queen had personally tasked her with slaying the beast and rescuing the lost princess Ophelia. Many others had come before her, but she was determined to succeed where those had failed.

Priscilla stood before the entrance, breathless after climbing the deadly mountain. Steeling her resolve, she slowly made her way inside.

The sound of the howling wind became more quiet as the knight made her deeper and deeper into the black dragon's lair. The hoard inside casting wrapped reflections of her all over the walls.

But what she saw inside made her freeze in place. Above a massive pile of gold and jewels, sat a massive dragon, far larger than what Priscilla anticipated. But this one was not black-scaled like the one she had heard on the bards' tales. No, this one's scales gleamed with a golden radiance that matched the gold surrounding it. Its form was immense, yes, but it wasn't as bulky as she expected it to be. The curves of its body were more elegant than what she had pictured in her mind.

The beast laid draped over its treasure, seemingly unaware of the knight's presence...until its sharp eye fell on her.

Priscilla's heart skipped a beat as those eyes turned towards her, those predatory emerald eyes sent a child down her spine.

"Well well well, what do we have here?" The dragon purred in a deep, yet feminine voice. Her sharp claws tapped against her golden hoard, and her tail lazily swept across the floor, causing the coins to clatter around. "Another insignificant fool trying to find the lost princess?"

"What have you done with Princess Ophelia?" Sir Priscilla lifted her sword into a fighting position. "And with the Dark Scourge, Belkax?"

"Dark Scourge?" The dragoness chuckled, her fanged grin gleaming dangerously "I've taken care of him." She said, her serpentine eyes are narrowing. "But I'm deeply disappointed with you Lady Knight, not recognising the Princess you swore to serve?"

Priscilla's breath hitched. That couldn't be real. "Princess Ophelia?" She asked cautiously, her voice betraying the surprise she tried to conceal.

"I go by Opheriax now," the dragoness replied, her voice rumbling through the cavern floor. "A far more fitting name for my grandiose self, wouldn't you agree?"

Sir Priscilla's grip on her sword faltered as she started down at the dragoness in disbelief. This couldn't be real...

Taking advantage of the momentary hesitation, Opheriax' tail snapped out like a whip, coiling around the knight's waist and pinning her arms to her sides. Priscilla struggled in vain, her sword clattering to the ground as she was lifted into the air, her feet dangling helplessly.

"Uggh...you...can't be the Princess," the knight tried and failed to break free. "That's, ugh! that's impossible you foul beast!"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," Opheriax chided with a mocking grin, her fangs gleaming in the dim light of her lair. "After all, you should feel honoured. You might not be a princess...but you will do nicely as my first captured maiden."

Priscilla's eyes darted around, searching for an escape, but there was none. She had faced countless enemies before, but nothing could have prepared her for this: a princess turned dragon, more dangerous and unpredictable than any creature she had encountered.

"I wonder how you look under that," Opheriax mused aloud, tilting her head as she examined the knight in her grasp. Turning Priscilla around, she began to shake her down until her helmet clanked down. "Oh my! You are exactly my type." The dragoness said, brushing Priscilla's golden locks with a dangerously sharp claw.

"And I got the perfect outfit for you." The golden dragon's laughter filled the lair as she pulled the knight closer, her hot breath brushing against her face.

It took her a moment, but Opheriax finally found what she was searching for.

"This is real elven silk, you know," the dragoness said, as she showed the lifted knight her old dress. It had some small scratches here and there, but it was almost as beautiful as the day Ophelia was kidnapped. "I know you will look great on it, once I take you out of your tin can, hehe."

The dragoness had finally found the central piece of her growing hoard. After all, what was the point of being so majestic, if there was no one to admire your greatness?