Sophie's Adventure

ALL PEOPLE ENGAGING IN SEXUAL ACTS OR AYTHING OF SEXUAL NATURE ARE ALL OF THE AGE OF 18 OR OLDER, THE MAIN CHARACTER IS 18, IF THIS IS NOT THE LEGAL AGE TO CONSENT TO SEX IN YOUR AREA OR COUNTRY, DO NOT READ.

Huge thanks to CopperSkink; an amazing editor~

Chapter one.

Sophie had been raised in New Zealand; born April 3rd 1991 at St Georgia's hospital on what was most probably a cold autumn day.

Her family had consisted of a father whose job was a pilot for a well-to-do airplane company which shall go unnamed.

A stay-at-home-mother, an elder sister born 18 months prior, and of course in two years time a younger sister would be born into this darling little family, making Sophie the middle child.

A family that seemed perfectly normal.

If course it wasn't.

As Sophie grew, she had been like most children her age: a free spirit, confident, happy. But she was different, a thing her father, a perfectionist, abhorred.

He didn't know how to handle her; she wasn't acting "normal", not like other kids her age. It was around this time her father had developed Multiple Myeloma, a plasma cell cancer.

Her mother had always mused that it was due to flying so close to the sun all the time.

The medicine was harsh and often had horrible side-effects like aggression and psychotic behaviour.

Her father had always been an angry man; it had just gotten worse because of the medicine; her mother had always wanted to separate from her father, now found it impossible. He was dying, and she couldn't just leave him.

And that is where Sophie payed the price.

The verbal abuse had been outrageous and demeaning; she and her sisters would be slandered everyday.

It was always her, always her, that got the cruellest remarks because he couldn't understand her, and humans fear things they don't understand; and like animals when we are scared, we get angry and vicious.

Of course this was mostly at home; but even in public there would still be remarks, comments that would go over the head of most but would strike deep into her heart.

One of her most vivid memories had been at the zoo in Singapore; she and her father had been looking at the Malayan Tapirs (a large black-and-white browsing mammal, roughly pig-like in shape, small beady eyes, with a prehensile snout that reminded her of an elephant's trunk).

Her father had made an off-hand comment, "You look just like a Tapir."

To most it would have been seen as a father joking with his daughter, but it stuck with her.

Always.

And in the year of her 12th birthday, her father passed; of course it had been Guy Fawkes, the 5th of November; her mother had made a comment that it was just like her father to go on a day they wouldn't forget.

For most, his friends and his family, it had been a sad day of crying and mourning; but for Sophie, she didn't care, the day her father died was just another day.

She'd known it was going to happen sooner or later; infact, when she had been told of her fathers death, it had been a simple "Oh" that she had said, the only thing she had said on the matter.

The funeral had been a modest affair before the body was cremated and sent to Auckland to be buried at his family's plot.

She had always been "The Middle Child." The one overlooked, cast into the background.

She had always had the harshest discipline because "The Eldest Child" had been spoilt, being the firstborn.

All the leniency had gone to "The Youngest Child" because she was the baby.

As the middle child, she had to fight harder to be heard, always in the shadow of her siblings, never being first.

She grew to resent her family and became more disconnected from them, and as such she never connected with her sisters, had never gotten along with them. They took this as a prime example to bully her.

Her older sister was particularly vicious, favouring the way of other women alike and the skills of her father with a sharp tongue and a cutting wit. She was sure it would have made her father proud as she regularly cut her down and left her raging in her room in despair.

Sophie simply didn't have a quick enough wit to keep up with her sister.

Her temper had always been horrid, zero to critical meltdown instantaneously, but oddly enough she hated confrontation, often starting verbal shouting matches before halfway through walking out of the room, just wanting the argument to stop. She didn't care that her sisters thought she was out of insults.

All through school it was the same; she always gave off a hard edge, a tough exterior and a temper that had people staying away from her. She gave off an aura that if you fucked with her she would drop you like a brick.

Which was complete bullshit; she just liked people believing that. She acted the role of a big tough bitch so people wouldn't bully her. She only ever acted like that with her friends, people she was close to, or fellow classmates. If they feared her enough to think she'd punch them, they wouldn't bully her, it was a self-defence mechanism grown from a life of being bullied by those surrounding her; it was her way of being safe.

She was nothing but kind and courteous to strangers, reaching out to steady someone if they tripped, offering a helping hand, carrying groceries of an old lady to her car; a good citizen, if you would.

But she was always cautious of them, always on edge that at any moment they would rear their head like a cobra, and strike.

She could never relax and never trust completely.

Even though she had such a temper, she had always been kind, always helpful even if it didn't benefit her. Little kids had always been drawn to her, and she in returned had loved children, loved being with them and playing with them. Children at such a young age didn't know any better, didn't judge as cruelly as teenagers and adults that were often blunt and tactless in their thoughts, which was oddly refreshing.

It helped that they never called her fat.

Oh how she loathed that word.

It had been the bane of her existence. She'd always loved sweets and creams and delightful fluffy things that made her mouth water with their sugary goodness.

But that wasn't the leading cause of her puffing up like a marshmallow. Whenever her father and mother got into a ferocious fight, her mother when generally pack them off, and they'd go off to eat at a fast food restaurant until their father cooled off, and this happened a lot.

"Bulking up" was simply more ammo for her father before he passed.

It wasn't until her 14th year she realized just how much she hated her father.

Her 14th year and been her roughest year. Diagnosed with depression, she dropped from school. Huddling into her room, rarely leaving, only stepping out when it was for food or use of the toilet.

Her sisters' slander still continued, not caring that their sister was obviously slipping deeper into her own world, cutting herself off from reality.

So the years dragged by as she was caught in her rut; her rut of no job, no friends, no life, no happiness and going nowhere.

But the times where changing.

It had started in the year 2006; the Magical Community saw fit to reveal itself. Fairies, Elves, Vampires, Demons, shape-shifters, witches, and so many others it was unbelievable and so fantastic that they actually existed. Sophie was in wonder.

The rest of the world? Not so much.

The government was in uproar.

Over what? A secret community living right under their noses the whole time? Kind of, but that wasn't the worst. Secret community living right under their noses that have supernatural abilities that easily surpasses the greatest human and their military toys? Yes, that was it. Wars broke out, humans demanding the "creatures" give them all their information on magic, of history, of everything; and in reality, they wanted them to bow down to them.

Yeah, right, like that was going to happen.

While the rest of the world was waring, New Zealand was relatively peaceful.

The majority of New Zealanders had always been laid-back and pretty open-minded; the Prime Minister of New Zealand didn't have such a staggering ego like most other countries. It easily sorted out the problems facing New Zealand creatures and welcomed them all as brothers of the people of Aotearoa.

Against the other nations' advice, more like command, New Zealand was the first nation to declare creatures citizen rights, allowing others into the country to seek asylum. Australia soon followed as well as other countries. New Zealand with its clean water, pristine environment, and acceptance of creatures soon became a Mecca for supernatural life.

Of course this isn't to say it didn't have its rough patches, which would be ludicrous. New Zealand had just as many groups of prejudice assholes as the rest of the world. They were just fewer in number.

Sophie had all but wished she could be apart of the Creature Community. Little did she know she already was.

They'd been on holiday at the time, whale-watching in Kaikoura at the time, they'd decided to check out the local fauna by going on a nature walk.

Of course, her dear loving older sister had to make the walk all the more enjoyable by offering "encouragement".

Sophie had of course kept her mouth shut, not wanting to make a scene and embarrass herself; but after a particularly barbed comment, she told her sister exactly were she should shove her comment.

Of course it wasn't put as eloquently as that and it involved much more vulgar swearing. None the less, not wanting to deal with the backlash, she took a quick right off the path and into the woods, something she would generally not do.

Now, like most women, Sophie's moods could quickly fluctuate. She'd generally explode into a temper, fewer than five minutes later be completely cooled off and over it.

Not this time; this time it kept building and building.

How dare that bitch talk to her like that? What right did that no-good slut have? Sophie had never felt this angry before; it felt like a hot ball of magma continuously turning and rolling growing bigger and hotter, and it burned her insides, set aflame her heart and roared through her veins.

She didn't know how far she had stumbled into the undergrowth, but it must have been far; the trees and ferns were far to overgrown to be near the hiking track.

None of that matter to Sophie as she tumbled to her knees. The raging inferno inside her head was so hot, she thought as she clutched at her head.

A short cry was all she gave as she felt her nails tear into her scalp.

Nails far longer then she remembered keeping them at dug into her skull, but she didn't care; the absolute ferocity of her fury had her snarling in an animalistic way that should not have been possible for her human vocal chords.

That's when it happened: with a terrible scream, her rage erupted.

Her body expanded massively. Bones cracking, tendons snapping, muscles growing, her cheeks swelled with blood as her gums bled with the forcing of new teeth jabbing through her gums. The new set of teeth bit and ripped through her own mouth.

She could feel her soul unravel to feel the new void of her body, then, she felt it, felt everything, the overwhelming something.

Her new bigger, longer, and heavier head reared back, smashing through the trees. She stumbled, new legs unready for movement in the way she was used to.

There was a loud crackle along her... flesh? that felt like prickles being viciously rubbed into her skin before she saw them. There where "people" there now, five of them, talking to her in a language she didn't know but she felt as if she did.

She didn't know what was happening, she was scared and angry, still so very, very angry. She wanted to destroy and kill and eat, and she should because at the moment that felt right.

Before she could even contemplate it further, one of the people, (long white hair, very long, held in a high ponytail, super high, with a large knot; didn't see that everyday) jumped high, higher than possible; she felt something slam into her breast bone, well, what she would have considered her breast bone before...this whatever-it-was happened.

Left with a stagging sense of realization bought on by the horribly incapacitating pain that they had hurt her.

Before she knew what had happened, her bare ass hit the ground with a condensed thud.

With a hiccuping sob, she scrambled backwards, trying to gain some sense of modesty her arms quickly sought to hide her naked skin, her legs still punching her back through the dead flora and remanets of what used to be her clothing.

She was scared, frightened, and her body hurt all over.

Through eyes blurred with tears she saw the only woman (blue hair; blue hair isn't natural on a human) sweep forwards towards her. It was then she managed to choke out a wavering and obviously frightened "stay back" that was of course before she did something she'd never done before.

No, It not was some kind of attack; jeeze, what do you take her for? Some superhero that gets dumped into a vat of radioactive waste and miraculously knows how to use their superpowers?

No, this isn't some kind of Mary-Sue comic book written by a deranged fan; no, Sophie did something not half as impressive.

She passed out.

When she woke next, it was back in her motel room.

She sat straight up, none of that bullshit about slowly rousing because you forgot all about what the fuck just happened to you, even though it was ridiculously traumatic.

It was when she spotted the five strangers from before that she managed to pull a crazed move of rolling out of bed up and onto her feet and pointing in a quite eloquent way of saying, "YOU."

It was then her mother who spoke up, looking very serious. Something rare coming from a woman who liked to sing and dance while driving.

Apparently they needed to talk.

Then was when she found out whom, or more importantly what, she was.

Apparently through her Norwegian bloodline on her father's side, about 1000 years back give or take a century, there had been a dragon in her family tree. Not just any dragon; Lord Sverrie Anaerath, direct descendant of Anaerath one of The Great Seven, Last Ancient Golden Dragon, One of the Seven Heads of the Dragon Council, and apparently she was a direct descendant.

She needed to sit down because this was not were it stopped.

Apparently she had awoken her Dragon blood that was in dormance.

She needed to go with them to assume her rightful place as one of the heads of the dragon council and lord of her domain and blah, blah, blah, political crap. This is where she stopped paying attention. Not because it wasn't interesting, but because she'd just been told she was a dragon.

She loved dragons.

In fact when she was younger she'd collected porcelain dragon statues. She'd always thought they were the best magical creature with their intelligence and ferocity along with there immortal lifespan and everything else; she still had the figurines.

While she tried to get over the shock of the information that had just been dropped on her, they decided to answer her question, the most prominent in her mind, which was, shouldn't they want her elder sister? She was a direct line as well, and didn't the firstborn always rule? First born, first in line for the throne or something?

Apparently neither her elder sister nor her younger had the dragon blood, only her in her entire family.

For once in her life she was truly unique, and she loved it. She knew they couldn't be lying. How she knew they weren't lying, she didn't know, but she'd follow these instincts of hers for now.

She'd learn later about dragon blood memories, memories ancestors passed down from parent to child through the blood. She just called them "instincts".

So with a quick lie to all those concerned, including her sisters, she departed.

Apparently no one could know about what had occurred except for her mother. She felt giddy about knowing something her sisters didn't. With that, they were leaving, apparently to a place called "The Realm."

-----------A Year later, Sophie was close to turning 19 --------------

"Fuuuuuuuuuck~" was Sophie's drawn-out exasperation as she plummeted to her bed. The bed itself was several feet wide, covered in a swath of both furs and fine sheets. She was after all nearly a damn queen; she needed finery. Well, that was the excuse the ladies of court had given to her.

With a huff, she rolled onto her back, the rustling of important political papers getting trapped beneath her large silken dressing gown. She was supposed to be getting ready for bed, hence the gown, but this bloody paperwork wouldn't get done by itself.

Sophie wasn't the most beautiful girl, with a height of five-foot-seven, a short batch of reddish brown hair, the excess of a once home-done red dye job, turning amber in towards her roots another botched dye job by the looks of it. The ends curled off her collarbone with a flick and a side part splitting her hair down the right.

With her chubby body covered in varying stages of freckles; some large, some small, some dark, some light, covering her body sparsely; she was "cute" and "pretty", but not beautiful.

Her black square glasses framed a stunning set of doll-like eyes, large mid-blue-hued orbs surrounded by a ring of dark navy, nearly black in shade; her mother commented that they were "bedroom eyes." That comment had just made Sophie laugh.

A round cherub face with freckles adding cuteness to her appeal, and of course being a larger, more "real" woman as Sophie would have put it, she had the breasts to match. A healthy E-cup that didn't look oversized for her chubby frame; they looked as natural as a large B on a size-six girl.

One of the things in fiction writing is almost always spelling out numbers where we can get away with it.

Sophie didn't mind her large breasts in the least.

With another huff, Sophie rolled once more onto her stomach, splaying herself out spread-eagle on the over-sized bed.

There was a quick knock at the door which had Sophie groaning out in despair.

"Go away, Mort, I don't need anymore bloody fucking papers, I've got enough to last me 'till the end of eternity!" Sophie bemoaned.

Mortimus Heavenrow was a top mage. Well over a couple hundred years old with his long white bread that merged with his equally long white hair, he looked like a regular Merlin, or for more "Modern" wizards, Dumbledore from Harry Potter. He had been appointed her retainer to guide her through her studies, politics, tasks, and the vast ocean that was her paperwork. He was also her man-servant.

Though if Mort heard her call him a man-servant, he'd curse her ears off.

Literally.

But he obviously felt it necessary to ignore her comment and come in anyway, if the creaking of the giant oak doors was anything to go by.

But what had Sophie lifting her head harshly was the voice that certainly did not belong to Mort.

"Ahh, we are so sorry to disturb you, M'Lady, but, we though you might be in need of our....services this evening," came the slow and seductive drawl of one of her concubines, Riwa.

Yes, that's right, concubines; she had four of them, in fact.

There was the eldest, Tobi, a Guilly, a type of humanoid like creature nearly identical to humans if not for the dog like markings that dotted their skin, Tobi's markings were a splattering of Dalmatian-like spots coming from before his ears across the expanse of his cheeks until they reached the corner of his mouth. The dark chocolate colour of the spots matched the mass of scruffy dark chocolate-coloured hair that sat atop his head. His skin was a fetching shade of pale that stretched over his towering six-five height.

He was an incredible lover, though not Sophie's favourite. When she ever felt the need to sleep with Tobi, everything was for her sake: every touch, every caress, and every jarring thrust was acutely specified for her enjoyment, not for his. Which left Sophie feeling that Tobi was a bit mechanical in his movements.