I sat at my desk, university coursework fading in and out of focus. Leaning back, I stretched out and yawned, trying to blink away the tiredness, but it was no good.

Really, I was finally going to get out of this boring town, then covid hit. No getting drunk and kissing girls and making amazing mistakes. Sure, I still met a ton of new people, and the LGBTQ society ran fun events even if they were online, but it wasn’t the same. If I wanted to flirt with girls online, well, I’d already done that for years.

Rubbing my eyes, I felt the last of my motivation leave for the night. Like a switch was flipped, my eyes refused to open more than a crack, head drooping down.

Half asleep, I started gathering my willpower, but drifted off before I could do anything with it. Darkness, endless darkness.

Then a ripple.

“Please! Oh gods—”

I jerked awake, heart pounding. That voice I dreamed up had sounded so strained, begging—like she was being tortured. I shook it off, then shuffled over to bed. Already in my pyjamas, I just had to lie down and close my eyes, should have been easy when I was so sleepy before.

But I couldn’t fall asleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard echoes. Groans and grunts and a deep, menacing voice, the words too muffled to make out, but they sounded like scolding.

By morning, I felt exhausted. Still, I was young and bounced back, getting through my online lectures for the day. Working on my coursework, though, my thoughts kept drifting, hard to focus. I usually kept on top of it, so one day slacking wasn’t a big deal.

Then it was night again. I worried the voices would be back, but it turned out I worried for nothing, silence when I closed my eyes.

I felt relieved too soon.

A flicker of dream, a pale face stained with tears, cheeks red, lips quivering. My eyes shot open, heart pounding. Somehow, I knew it was her, the woman calling for help. After a minute of deep breaths, my heart calmed down. Hesitating, I tried closing my eyes again, waiting, waiting for—

That face appeared again, this time pressed down against the bed, her eyes closed, eyelashes quivering. Her mouth slightly open, she let out a pained moan—

Jerking up, I blinked away the lingering image of her, heart pounding again. This was too much of a coincidence, I thought. Magic, real fantasy magic, wasn’t something I believed in, not religion either. No gods or chakras or anything like that.

But since when did I have such vivid dreams? The same dream two nights in a row? A dream I could remember after waking up?

I idly rubbed my arm, trying to distract my hands from where they wanted to touch. Her face had looked so sexy. I felt disgusted with myself for thinking that, knowing she was being tortured, but I couldn’t stop my body’s reaction.

“That’s it, I’m just horny,” I muttered, giving up on ignoring it.

Pulling down my pyjama bottoms a little, I licked two fingers and then slipped them under my knickers. Breaths already hot, pulse quick, I didn’t need to warm up much, wet enough to slide my fingers in. A groan slipped out before I caught it, painfully conscious of how thin the walls were and that my younger brother was next door and liked to stay up late gaming.

But I couldn’t stop now.

Slow and careful, I fingered myself. It was like tickling my vagina, teasing it, making it clench and squirm. I liked doing it softly. If I rubbed my clit, it happened so fast and felt kind of empty. So I stroked my insides, just enough to feel it build up. The little clenches, my pulse speeding up, breaths getting heavier. I didn’t know if it was because of that, but then I started feeling light-headed. My body felt fuzzy. I kind of felt disconnected, everything drowned out by what my vagina felt. There was just this tingling feeling, getting louder and louder until it was all I could hear.

And when I couldn’t take it any more, I plunged my fingers in as deep as they’d go and curled them, my thumb pressing my clit, rubbing it through the hood.

Just like that, my whole body tensed up, legs shaking, and there was a moment where it was like I needed to breathe in, but couldn’t, and my vagina pulsed, squeezing my fingers over and over.

Then the tension popped and there was just bliss, feeling like I had no bones or muscles in my body. Mind a happy puddle, every breath fresh, almost giddy, stuck grinning. I idly brought up my fingers to clean them, kind of liked the taste of my own juices. Probably because I’d associated the taste with pleasure.

Still, I wondered if other girls tasted so nice. Other women. With my ex-girlfriend, we only went as far as kissing and feeling each other up, but we were only fourteen. University was supposed to give me an answer. Oh well.

Coming down, I idly rubbed my pussy. Not sexually, just sort of cupping the whole thing and rocking back and forth, kind of massaging it. My pussy didn’t hurt or anything, but this felt nice. I was still sensitive, so just a gentle touch. While I was there, I cleaned up some of my juices before they spilled, my pussy a bit, well, sloppy.

After a while, the feeling faded. I took a tissue from my bedside table and then shuffled to my tiny en-suite bathroom for a wee. Bladder infections were no joke. Besides, I needed to wash my hand anyway.

Back in bed, closing my eyes, there was no woman. I let out a long sigh. Finally, a good night’s rest.

But she returned the next night and the night after. I didn’t usually masturbate that much, twice a week. This was the first time I’d done it three nights in a row.

…. I didn’t hate it, exactly. But I was worried about my brother hearing, worried I’d get used to it and have to, like, masturbate harder, worried my room would start stinking. I was kind of a worrier.

On the fourth night, though, I had a different dream.

“Great Knight, does our words reach thee?”

Not the woman’s voice, but an old, gravelly voice.

“Great Knight, does our words reach thee?”

That question again, I wondered if they were talking to me and hesitantly said, “Yes?”

“Ah, incredible! Great Knight, pray heed our request,” the voice said.

“What request?” I asked.

“The Princess, one’s daughter, has been taken captive by a fiendish dragon. Merlin has found thee with his magic, someone of great potential who may conquer the monster. Please, Great Knight, if not thee, one dares not consider to what torment one’s daughter will be subjected.”

Just like that, everything clicked into place. Who the woman was, what had happened to her, why me. However, there was something confusing me. “I’m not a knight, I don’t think I can slay a dragon,” I said.

“Fear not. The ritual to summon thee will imbue thee with the powers to overcome thy trials,” the voice—the King—said.

“Very convenient,” I said, nodding along.

“Verily,” the King said.

Thinking for a moment, the reward for rescuing a princess was usually her hand in marriage… and she was beautiful. But I wasn’t going to marry her against her will. That said, maybe she would be… thankful.

Not to mention, I had barely left the house in months.

“When will you summon me?” I asked.

“Thee agrees?” the King asked, excited.

“Yes.”

There was no answer, one moment in that empty dream, the next feeling like a caught fish being reeled in. Fortunately, the pull was on my stomach, not my cheek, but it still felt horrible, the drag making me bend backwards. At least I was flexible, otherwise I might not have made it.

After a minute of that—it felt a lot longer—I appeared in a lake. No breath in my lungs, I panicked, swimming madly and hoping I was going up. As soon as I broke above the water, I gasped.

“Ah, Great Knight!” the King shouted.

I looked over and saw him by the shore, a jolly-looking man with a kindly face and overly ornate crown sitting on his head. Next to him was, presumably, Merlin, a tall and skinny man in a simple, brown robe, holding a staff.

The shore was very far away. The water was cold. I was wearing pyjamas.

Well, no good deed went unpunished.

Not wanting to wait around to freeze or cramp up, I started swimming, surprised to find it easy. The pyjamas were a huge drag, but my arms and legs barely felt the pull. That was when I remembered: the power to overcome my trials.

Well, this was certainly my first trial, failure meaning death.

Coming to the shore, I crawled onto land and caught my breath. Once settled, I stood up, looked down, then crossed my arms, covering my chest as my cheeks started burning.

Not helping matters, I saw Merlin glance at me. Fortunately, he was kind enough to flick his staff and a gust of hot air blew down from above me, drying me off. A swing this time, a suit of armour appeared over my pyjamas. Not video game bikini armour, but a full suit, surprisingly light and, some parts made of overlapping layers, it was surprisingly flexible too.

“Of course, this shan’t help with what comes out the dragon’s mouth,” Merlin said, his voice a bit high-pitched and drawling.

“Dodge the fire, got it,” I said.

The corner of his mouth pulled up, just for a moment.

“Well,” the King said, clapping his hands together, “let’s not dally, yes? Thee only has until thy body wakes.”

I frowned, lifting the helmet’s visor to see better. “What if I don’t rescue the Princess in time?”

“As long as thee are willing, one supposes the ritual may be cast as many times as necessary,” the King said. Merlin rolled his eyes, but didn’t disagree.

“Well, sure, I don’t see why not,” I said. Better to be careful and not end up roasted, I thought.

“Wonderful, just wonderful,” the King said, clapping again.

“So, where’s the Princess being held?” I asked.

The King turned and pointed. Looking, I spotted the tall tower easily enough, nestled beyond two hills… a bit phallic. But I guessed they summoned me here because it was near, so that helped.

Thinking of that, I asked, “Any chance I don’t get summoned into the lake next time?”

The King turned to Merlin who shook his head. “My apologies, Great Knight, but the location is not exact, so rather appear above or below the water than the ground.”

I winced, the sound of that pretty unpleasant. “I understand, and thanks for your care.”

His lips curled again. “The only thanks necessary is the safe return of the Princess.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said, smiling—not that they could see it with the helmet on.

Nothing else to keep me, I went off with a goodbye to them. The lake naturally in a sort of valley, the walk to the tower was uphill, but it wasn’t tiring, even with the armour. That Great Knight blessing really was no joke.

It took half an hour to get beyond the two hills to the clearing where the tower was. Sure enough, it looked like a dragon’s lair, ground scorched and covered in huge claw marks. There were even some half-melted suits of armour—next to conspicuous lumps of rock that had something carved into them, a slight mound in front.

Hopefully I wouldn’t have one of my own. I probably should have asked if I’d actually die or just wake up safe and sound. Well, too late for that now. I’d use tonight to scout things out, I thought.

First scouting report, there definitely wasn’t a dragon here. The tower was the only cover and, based on the claw marks, the dragon couldn’t hide behind the tower. There weren’t any caves or anything like that nearby, so I assumed the dragon was far away, maybe eating up sheep.

Wasn’t this perfect? I could rescue the Princess and avoid risking my life.

Thinking like that, I took a last look around, then rushed towards the tower. Just that, halfway there, I slowed to a stop, seeing someone walking out. Did the dragon have a butler or something? I knew it wouldn’t be the Princess, so I was wary, watching them.

At this moment, I realised no one had given me a sword.

A sudden chill ran down my spine, nervous hands clenching and unclenching, trying to keep my legs from shaking. Closer, the person came. Closer and closer until—

I’d been freaking out too much before, but now I saw everything. Scaly skin like emeralds, glittering green, nose squarish and upturned, a bit like a pug, and two short horns on top of her head that pointed backwards, black and with a spiral groove.

And she was absolutely gorgeous.

I thought they were female because her face was a little soft, chin pointy-but-not-pointed, lips full, cheeks ever so slightly puffy. Also, she only wore a simple robe and it hung off her chest in an unflattering way that told me her boobs were pretty big. Why a dragon-woman had boobs, I didn’t even think about. The world was a better place with more boobs.

So, that was why I thought she was a woman. As for why I thought she was gorgeous, well, her scales were like emeralds, so pretty, and her eyes were a bright yellow with black irises—round, not slits like I expected. Those eyes, even from far away, pierced me. Enchanting.

Then there were her legs, so long, the robe sliding up and down with every stride, giving me a glimpse of her thick thighs. Along with her big boobs, I guessed she had a curvy figure, maybe even chubby, which was my favourite type. Well, my ex was a bit chubby and I really liked cuddling with her. A sort of chicken-and-egg thing.

Anyway, she had a striking appearance, maybe a sexy figure, and the way she strode with a cold expression made her seem like a stern teacher, or a strict boss—and I needed a good, hard scolding.

Masturbating for three nights in a row may have influenced me, or maybe I was always a bit of a pervert and just hadn’t met the right woman yet.

While I was fantasising, she finished walking over, stopped a few steps in front of me. However, she didn’t say a word, instead she stared at me with her arms crossed, waiting. I shivered, viscerally feeling the impatience shining from her eyes.

Thoughts colouring my voice, I sounded a bit husky when I said, “Hi.”

Her lips curled, different to how Merlin’s did. “Greetings, knight,” she said, her voice deep, but smooth, a tendril of smoke rising out her nostrils as she spoke.

Definitely a dragon.

But… she was gorgeous.

“I don’t suppose you’re single?” I asked, pitch rising with every word.

For a moment, she stared at me, daring me to flinch, then she chuckled, more smoke rising. “Are you not here to rescue the Princess?” she asked as if mocking me.

I bit my lip, trying to use the pain to keep my composure, on the verge of turning into a puddle from her scolding. “Maybe I could swap with her?” I asked.

She slowly looked me up and down with a disappointed look, blatant enough to make me clench, breath hitched. “I am afraid I do not do charity,” she said.

Torn between wanting her to humiliate me more and hitting on her, I decided that the latter would lead to the former. “That’s fine, my name’s not Charity,” I said.

Staring at me with her piercing eyes, I suppressed the shudder until she finally smirked. “What a queer knight you are,” she said, a hint of interest in her tone.

I couldn’t help but throw myself at the opportunity. “Oh, I’m queer all right, and you’re gorgeous.”

Her one eyebrow rose. Well, she didn’t have hair, but the ridge above her eye. “Am I now?” she asked.

“Absolutely stunning,” I said, vigorously nodding, the visor on my helmet clacking up and down.

She took a step forward and reached out, touching the armour under my chin and forcing my head up. “Take it off,” she whispered, cold.

My body listened to her without a thought, instinctually obeying. I lifted off the helmet and dropped it on the floor. Her hand came back, holding my chin and turning my head left and right, staring right through me.

Rather than plastic-y, her skin felt like soft leather, smooth and supple, small ridges between the scales that I could feel when she pulled her hand back, stroking my chin as she did. A shudder running through me, I wondered how amazing those ridges would feel along my slit.

“Strip.”

Dignity long since abandoned before her, I complied right away. At least, I tried, the armour having magically appeared on me and so I had no clue how to undo it. After fiddling with the straps for a bit, she sighed. Right before my eyes, her nails lengthened into claws and, with a lazy curl of her finger, she cut strap after strap until everything but my boots had fallen to the ground. Not wanting to disappoint her, I scrambled to get the boots off, staggering around as my balance wavered.

Once I was done, I stood at attention. Back straight, chest out, eyes forward.

She circled me, her fingertips loosely sliding over my pyjamas, the slightest touch tickling me, sending tingles straight to my spine that I desperately resisted.

“Well, I suppose you may make for an interesting toy,” she muttered; I’d never been so happy to be objectified before.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I didn’t dare speak.

“Come along, then, my little bunny gets lonely if I leave her too long,” she said, striding off towards the tower.

It took me a second to process what she’d said, then I hurried after her. “Your, um, bunny?” I asked.

I couldn’t see her face, but heard the smirk in her voice. “Why, my pet princess, of course.”