Chapter 28 - Mercy
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[Word Count: 2567]
[Content Warnings: SOFT/SAFE VORE, Mentions of Hard Vore (none happen), Mentions of Digestion and Death (again, none happen), Fear, HEAVY Angst]
[Once more, the following chapter contains VORE – feel free to skim, skip, or block the tags ‘tw vore’ and/or ‘extreme cuddling’ if this makes you uncomfortable!]
“Wait, NO!!!” Bad shrieked hysterically, squirming against the clawed fingers that held him captive. All of a sudden, he had a very clear idea of what the dragon was about to do, and it did not bode well for him. With every ounce of strength he had left, the Enderfolk began to fight the beast’s hold on him, intent on not becoming the dragon’s lunch.
The corners of the creature’s mouth curled slightly upwards into an amused smile, a deep, rumbling chuckle feeling as though it was rattling his very bones. The monster was laughing at him. Then, it started to lower him in.
He kicked desperately at the dragon’s tongue as soon as it was within reach, only for the pink muscle to unexpectedly slither up behind his legs and back. He yelped reflexively, at the same time feeling the grip of the dragon’s paws suddenly releasing him, freeing his arms just before he began to slide downwards into the creature’s maw.
He shoved wildly against the tongue that was attempting to draw him in, his hands slipping as he futilely tried to find some kind of handhold. Warm drool soaked through his clothes as his whole body was pulled into the tooth-lined mouth, the tongue curling around his struggling form without any sign of being affected.
“Dream, don’t do this!” Bad tried again, shuddering as the slimy muscle urged him further back, the knife-like teeth slowly closing all around him.
In a rush of sheer panic, he managed to roll himself over, desperately scrabbling at the slick tongue as he struggled back towards the light, but the daggerlike fangs promptly snapped shut in front of him.
All at once, he was sealed in damp darkness.
A shriek escaped him as as he felt himself sliding, the mouth around him slowly tipping to send him falling backwards, and towards the gaping throat.
Digging his fingertips into the plush muscle beneath him, he frantically attempted to claw his way back towards the front of the monster’s gigantic mouth, but his gloved fingers just couldn’t find purchase on the slobber-slicked flesh.
Before he could fall too far, however, he was abruptly caught by the tongue pressing him to the roof of the mouth, momentarily knocking the wind out of him.
Bad soon found himself being shoved and squashed at insistently, the slimy muscle pushing at him all over, slathering him in hot drool. There was no hint of carefulness from the beast, rolling him around and licking at him as though he were nothing more than a morsel of food. At any moment, he expected the beast to get tired of him, to cram him towards those horrifyingly massive fangs and end him – and there was nothing he could do about it.
Between his throbbing head, his aching body, and his struggles to even breathe past all the slobber, he could only pray that it would be quick.
And then, ever-so-subtly, he felt gravity beginning to shift, the motion around him slowing.
A rippling swallow abruptly tugged him downwards, and he cried out in fear as he found his legs almost completely enveloped in hot, slimy flesh – presumably the creature’s throat.
With renewed vigor, he once more began to fight, thrashing and striking out with his hands to the best of his ability, even as he was pinned more securely in-place by the tongue.
The dragon wasn’t chewing him to pieces – it was going to swallow him whole.
He let out a fearful whine. The dragon was holding him in-place for the moment, the plush muscle holding him firmly against the very back of the hard palate while his lower half was pressed dangerously close to the point of no return. Nearly his whole body was drenched with saliva, the horrible tongue massaging and curling around him.
“Please don’t do this,” he whimpered hopelessly, feeling the wet muscle running up and down his back, further slathering him in terrible slobber.
It was tasting him.
“Dream, please!” Bad cried out, squirming frantically. Tears were stinging at his eyes, and a sob jerked through his whole body. This was so, so wrong.
A deep rumble shook all around him, the beast probably laughing at him again. Then, he felt himself squeezed even tighter as a deafening gulp dragged him down into the dragon’s throat.
Rippling flesh squashed against him, his body slipping deeper and deeper into the creature’s gullet. A quick succession of swallows pressed in on him from all sides. The throat was almost suffocatingly tight, each fresh gulp crushing the air out of him and leaving him desperately panting for breath. There wasn’t anything he could do, nowhere he could go but down.
It wasn’t much longer until he heard and felt the steady booming of the dragon’s heart, pounding so much slower and louder than his own. Afterwards, the pressure around him seemed to increase, to the point he couldn’t even take in a breath.
As he was still panicking about his inability to breathe, he felt his feet suddenly squeezed into a hot, damp space below.
The dragon’s stomach.
He was powerless to stop himself as the beast gave one final swallow, shoving the rest of him down and into a round, fleshy chamber, with walls covered in slime and mucus. He gasped for air, only to cough and gag bitterly on the stale, humid supply he was met with.
For a minute or two, he could only lay limply in the pit of the creature’s velvety stomach, breathing heavily in an attempt to refill his deflated lungs. It was too dark to see anything, the only source of light coming from his gleaming eyes, which were too dim to illuminate much. Unknown fluids pooled around him, and he felt the flesh shift slightly beneath him.
If he didn’t get out of here, and quick…
Bad sat up in a hurry, attempting to get as much of himself out of the acids as possible. The stomach wasn’t as large as he’d expected, but that didn’t matter – what mattered was getting out of there as quickly as he could. Frantically, he began to shove at the walls, kicking and clawing at everything within reach in the hopes of giving the beast some kind of bellyache.
Aside from an irritated grunt, the dragon did not react.
“Dream, let me out!” he screamed desperately, pressing his hands into one of the walls as far as they’d go.
Bad suddenly slipped, falling face-first against the slime-covered flesh. He hurriedly sat up, hastily scrubbing the fluids off of his face to the best of his ability.
He began pounding on the walls again, trying to elicit some kind of response, some nauseated movement, or— or something! There had to be some particularly sensitive spot he could strike!
With every attack, he could feel the soft flesh giving way, stretching with his every attempt to hurt the creature, but nothing seemed to be working. Even if it was, the beast didn’t seem inclined to share.
He could feel exhaustion pulsing through his limbs as he continued to struggle, his panicked shoves and smacks gradually weakening as his muscles begged for rest. There was no way he could keep this up.
Still, the dragon did nothing to help him.
The slayer whimpered as his arms finally gave out, not knowing what else he could do. The acids were probably already setting to work digesting him. He couldn’t seem to cause enough discomfort to make the beast let him go, and he already knew he wouldn’t be able to talk his way out. There was nothing he could do…
He was going to die in here.
The tears were back, streaking down his dark face to mix with whatever slime was still clinging to him. He slumped against a wall, not even thinking about the shallow pool of strange liquids he was sitting in as he broke down crying.
“Dream, please,” he sobbed pitifully, “please don’t kill me…”
The dragon remained silent, its thunderous heartbeat and the whooshing of air in its lungs being the only indicator it was even still alive.
Sniffling bitterly, Bad curled in on himself, continuing to weep as he waited for the end. It couldn’t be long, now. After spending his whole life killing dragons, he was ultimately done in by a fellow slayer whom he’d considered an ally. He wondered what his friends would think, or if they’d ever find out what happened to him. They’d probably never know that it was Dream that killed him… or even that Dream could transform into a dragon.
No one would ever know where he’d gone.
Bad pulled his legs in tighter, sobbing even harder. He’d never get to find the ancestral home of his people, or destroy its draconic tyrant. After all these years of practice, it all amounted to nothing. His reason for living, the thing that brought him and his friends together, that had given his life meaning – it was all for nothing!
That’s when he at last took notice of something stiff pressed uncomfortably against his ankle. What was…? With a shaky hand, he reached down into his boot, and found the hilt of his knife.
His knife!
He’d completely forgotten about the knife he kept in his boot!
Heart racing, he pulled the blade from its sheath, seeing the light from his eyes reflecting against the polished metal, a shimmering beacon of hope in the pitch-blackness of the stomach that surrounded him. Bad clutched the dagger tightly, sitting up as he considered his next actions. Could he cut himself out, somehow? He actually wasn’t sure where a dragon’s stomach was, in relation to the rest of their body.
He quickly focused on the sounds made by the beast’s inner workings, trying to pinpoint where exactly he was. On either side, and maybe slightly above him, he could hear the rushing of air through the creature’s massive lungs, and its heart was pounding somewhere beside him.
Wait, beside him?
Was it supposed to sound so close?
The arrangement of the surrounding organs was baffling, though its heartbeat was a start. Raising himself onto his knees, he turned so that the heart was somewhere to his left. He gripped the knife tighter, contemplating where to plunge it. Then he jumped in surprise at an unexpected sound that had come from behind him.
It was the quiet growl of a stomach.
It didn’t sound close at all.
Bad blinked in confusion. There was no mistaking what he’d heard – that was definitely a stomach growling.
So why did it sound so far away?
Cautiously, the Enderfolk considered his surroundings. He hadn’t heard a single growl or groan from the chamber he was in since he’d been swallowed. He had been lying in the acids for quite some time now, and he had yet to feel any painful burning, or even any mild tingling. The stomach – if it even was a stomach – didn’t seem to be active in the first place. As soon as he’d thought about it, he realized that there weren’t that many fluids to begin with – just a shallow pool that didn’t even submerge his legs.
These weren’t acids!
He didn’t really want to think about what they were, but it was very clear that they weren’t hurting him. This wasn’t the beast’s stomach.
He was safe – he wasn’t being harmed, just… contained.
So why would Dream have eaten him in the first place?
The answer came to him abruptly, and Bad immediately felt like slapping himself. He’d shot down the other dragon-person, who was apparently a friend of Dream’s – of course Dream would’ve been mad!
When he thought about it, it was a wonder he wasn’t stewing in acids for what he’d done.
Suddenly feeling rather guilty, the slayer carefully returned the knife to its sheath. If the dragon wasn’t going to hurt him, even after all the harm he’d caused, then there was no reason for him to hurt the dragon.
“Dream?” he raised his voice, which was still a little rough from all the shouting and crying he’d been doing.
A guttural snarl echoed around him. Well, it was better than nothing.
“…I’m sorry,” Bad called quietly.
The dragon didn’t respond beyond a deep sigh.
Bad didn’t particularly blame him.
Much calmer than he had been before, the Enderfolk settled down with his head and shoulders propped up against the nearest wall, lying sprawled out on his back. He was exhausted. After all of the fear, fighting, and emotional turmoil, Bad wanted nothing more than to pass out for several hours.
And at the moment, there seemed no better place to nap than the dark, humid warmth of the dragon’s pseudo-stomach.
It was strange to think about. If it had been any other dragon, he probably would have been dead. Instead, he was held apparently safe and unharmed, tucked away somewhere incredibly soft and warm. The ambient sounds didn’t unsettle him as greatly as they had initially. The air was a little stuffy, but nonetheless breathable now that he wasn’t panicking. The yielding flesh beneath him seemed to cradle his whole body, the heat relaxing his aching muscles and slowly lulling him to sleep.
His eyes closed readily, his breaths leveling into soft, sleepy snores.
Dream was seething.
He still had half a mind to digest the Enderfolk for what he’d done. But Dream wasn’t an idiot – he knew that Bad had likely told his two slayer friends where he was going, and he knew they’d probably go looking for him if he didn’t come back. Those mountains by Aureus were the only place in the world that he felt safe transforming in, and he wasn’t about to have vengeful dragon hunters ruining that in search of the beast that killed BadBoyHalo.
Besides, Dream could act predatory, but he wasn’t that cruel.
He idly wondered what all had been going through the slayer’s mind. It was clear that he’d figured out he wasn’t going to die, but how long had he clung to that initial thought? What had been the thing that made him realize he was safe? Questions continued to buzz in his head as he gently felt at the motionless weight inside, careful not to wake him.
Dream could already feel faint waves of pain pulsing through his abused crop, on account of all of the careless pushes and shoves perpetrated by Bad. He hadn’t reacted at the time, but all of that struggling had genuinely hurt. After all was said and done, he was probably going to be bruised and achy for some time. But on the bright side, his steadfast silence had achieved the desired terror. He’d gotten his revenge on Bad, and he didn’t have to kill him.
He still kind of wanted to, though.
The green dragon sighed deeply, lowering his chin to rest on the cold stone floor. He curled up in a comfortable position, his tail wrapping around himself as he settled down. Dream had to agree with Bad – sleep didn’t sound like a terrible idea. At least if he was asleep, he wouldn’t have to argue with himself over what to do with the Enderfolk in his crop. That was an issue he could sort out when he woke up.
The dragon’s eyelids fell shut, and he was out in minutes.
[Author’s Note: Remember what I said all the way back in chapter 3 about writing a later part of the story? Here it is, the first vore scene I ever wrote for this fanfiction! Okay, well… admittedly, I did end up rewriting it TWICE. That being said, I’m really happy with how it turned out! This story has had a disappointing lack of angsty noms ever since that one two-chapter scene in Part I, so I hope y’all enjoyed this one! Lord knows it won’t be the last scene like this, hehe…]