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They tried to talk me out of it with the expected “It’s too dangerous” and “They’re going to eat you,” but the world needs people to understand these fiends if we’re to survive among them. That, and I’ve just always found them fascinating!\n\nThe first couple semesters were the usual liberal arts rigmarole I wanted to get out of the way early, just in case Monstrology didn’t work out. But the very week I enrolled in the Monstrology program, we received word that there will be an actual monster on campus-- as a TEACHER. There was the expected uproar from students, their families, and faculty alike about sharing space with a real, live, unleashed monster, but we were assured that whoever this beast was would be well-behaved and is suitably qualified for his position. Many students dropped out. But despite an initial dip in attendance, it attracted a different breed of students who were either curious, crazy, or both. Those who took their academic life elsewhere said those who remained were “idiots.” Since it would be hypocritical of me to stake out my future as a Monstrologist and refuse to be within spitting distance of one, I went to college to be an idiot.\n\nIt did not take long for me to spot the creature of controversy. Nine feet tall and wide enough his desk would be better suited as a bench, a bipedal dragon with dark eyes punctuating a toothy snout that could bite off a limb in a single chomp! If there was any penalty for failure, you’d think it would be getting stomped beneath one of his giant, burly, scaly soles into a red pulp after dousing your thesis in flames with a scalding scolding! One mindless swipe of his brawny tail would send even the most corpulent professor tumbling down like a stack of books in the library. I do not know if costuming him in a mortarboard cap, shawl, and tabard was his idea or the school’s to make him appear more sage and congruous, but I honestly found it gaudy and tacky. Nonetheless, many of those who chose to remain enrolled still gave the goliath a wide breadth.\n\nBut of course, much like the monster himself, even humans have their share of oddities. It was not uncommon for him to have an entourage of gawkers, inquirers, and some whom I’d dare call “fans”-- the type who would start a club for him that he’d know nothing about. I can’t deny that it made me curious to learn more about him. And it would seem I’d have my opportunity, since a number of professors who taught Monstrology had (ironically) dropped out, leaving their positions to be filled by none other than this erudite eldritch eccentricity known only as “Professaurus”-- another adornment I found confusing and garish in equal measure.\n\nAnd there, in “Monstrology 101: An Introductory History and Bestiary,” it began. Even seeing the scaly scholar beforehand, he appeared even larger, more imposing as his long neck bowed to duck beneath the double doors and proceed to the front of the classroom, having reached the desk even before his tail had fully withdrawn from the entrance. His academic attire did nothing to hide his behemoth proportions-- jarringly-large haunches with digitigrade legs that made every floorboard creak beneath his tremendous weight, long scaly snout riddled with fangs jutting outward from his maw like a crocodile, eyes like onyx orbs with a yellow iris bright as a single candle lit at the end of a dark attic, scales grassy green and his belly beige, and webbed wing-like frills adorning his ear holes that were... admittedly kind of cute.\n\n“Welcome, one and all! Welcome to what is not merely a class, but the first stirring notes of an overture that is the wondrous, mystic, dire, enlightening, and reflective story of monsters!” His voice resonated through the classroom like a gong, as one would expect from such a sizable maw, though one quite well-practiced in our own tongue. “You, my eager young academicians, have chosen to tread where few humans have dared to set foot. You have set aside your reservations and left your sanctums behind to venture into the terrifying unknown in the name of knowledge. For that, I commend you!” said our hulking, reptilian teacher with animated gestures of a cane bejeweled with an amethyst orb. “I am Professaurus, and should you find any [i]incredulity[/i] in that name, know this...” said the dragon with his neck craned low to look the student body sternly above the rim of his monocle. “...At least it’s easy to remember!”\n\nThe tense silence in the classroom was perforated with laughter, some of which was still uneasy, but I could feel the air warm as my anxiety eased.\n\n“Now,” Professaurus continued, “you may be wondering, ‘Why should we study these beasts? They are dangerous, deadly, utterly alien to our understanding of the world, and they smell bad!’ My friends, it is in their alien nature that we find the true value of Monstrology! We study monsters not to simply understand them, but to understand ourselves! For in the mirror of their eyes, we see reflected the very essence of what it means to be ourselves AND the other, because we are both one and the same at any instant in our lives,” said Professaurus to the enraptured classroom, though whether they were enraptured by his words or just what they were coming out of was uncertain. “Monsters are not merely creatures of myth and legend, nor are they not simply beasts to be slain hither and thither! No, they are sentient beings, each with their own cultures, societies, and histories. To study them is to explore the vast and wondrous diversity of life in this world. To ignore them is to turn a blind eye to the very richness and complexity of existence itself. Therefore, my chosen approach to the field of Monstrology will be that of providing you with the framework for building bridges, attaining understanding, and perhaps even forming bonds with monsters.”\n\nThis is more what I expected.\n\n“And with what better place to start than that very word: ‘monster,’” said Professaurus, scrawling it on the chalkboard and standing next to it as if providing a living illustration. “The very word I use to describe myself and others of my ilk, and use it liberally and without misgivings I do! It may seem counterintuitive, given our species’ contentious history, to not recoil at such a loaded term. If we are to one day coexist with you humans in harmony, why not begin by eradicating the very word that has come to represent all that is grotesque, malevolent, and frightening to you? Simply change the language, and lo! The barriers between us crumble away, peace reigns forevermore, and we all live happily ever after!” said Professaurus with disingenuous saccharine. “However! I submit to you, esteemed students, that to do so would be to pour a fresh layer of mortar upon the walls that already exist between our kinds!”\n\nMany eyes around me widened, alight with intrigue.\n\n“By attempting to bury the term ‘monster,’ we would only succeed in driving it deeper into the collective consciousness, a malignant seed from which resentment and fear would inevitably bloom anew. Instead of browbeating each other with inane linguistic acrobatics, let us defang the term, rather than pigeonhole it where it may fester and spoil from a category into a slur. We, human and monster both, must not lie to ourselves about our intrinsic differences. The cooperation and friendship humans and monsters may yet share must be earned, not forced. I am a monster. And it is a pleasure to meet you.”\n\nTruly, this was no feral brute. In mere minutes, what was once a sea of nervous and agitated students had metamorphosed into a throng of the enthralled.\n\nAnd the classes that followed proved to be no exception to that spell he so effortlessly cast each time we gathered. In every one, Professaurus conducted the room effortlessly, and I, like everyone else, found myself being drawn in more by the minute. His passion was effusive, his expertise voluminous, his enthusiasm galvanic, and his diction… well, a tad pleonastic, but at least I’m learning new words! With his tutelage, the prospects of my academic career brimmed with the promise of untold wonders and tantalizing revelations about the creatures I had been hearing about only in textbooks and gossip until now.\n\nOver the following semesters, we studied all manners of monster life, biology, behavior, and history, including the ecosystems they inhabit, the complex social structures of their societies, and the rich cultures they developed over millennia even without the influence of humans. Each lecture was a journey into the unknown, guided by one very learned leviathan. However, as much as I was learning about monsters, there was one I was learning practically nothing about: Professaurus himself. Where did he come from? How did he come to be so scholastic while the rest of his kin wallow in baneful savagery? Is “Professaurus” even his real name? I know not, but I will have time to inquire; due to so much of the teaching staff having absconded with their experience, it appeared much of the path to earning my Monstrology degree will be tread in his very large, anisodactyl footsteps.\n\nBut what a strange, surreal journey it has been. Two more semesters and more than half of those classes being headed by Professaurus has proven him to be quite the eclectic educator. Being a monster himself afforded Professaurus some unique methods of teaching-- ones that he certainly took advantage of.\n\nFor instance, in the class “Human Seeking Monster: Tracks and Trails,” our massive mentor sat upon one of the student’s benches and clasped his enormous, four-toed footclaws around two of the students’ heads to provide a sample for what a monster’s footprint looks like! And smells like.\n\n“Since it would be undeniably unwise to have you waltz willy-nilly through treacherous territories pursuing paws of fascinating fauna, I bring them to you!” said Professaurus, much to the dismay of those whose nostrils were ensnared in the folds of his fleshy feet.\n\nAnd that’s not all. He knew that there was still a lingering air of trepidation among the student body from having a monster as their instructor, and he used this to his advantage during his “Fundamentals of Field Research” course. The odd watermelon and coconuts on his desk came into use when he hoisted each one into his jaws and clamped them into mush with one swift bite as easily one would a grape. At first, I thought he had merely skipped lunch, until with a dramatic “YOU!” and a sweeping thrust of his cane, he pointed in the direction of one particularly skittish student who always sat as far away from the front as possible. “Step forward.”\n\nOnce the visibly-shaken student stood next to our titanic teacher, Professaurus clasped a claw upon his shoulder and turned to address us.\n\n“Know this, dear students. Monstrology is not all reviewing facts sequestered in the tomes of yesteryear,” he said, drumming his taloned fingers on the shoulder of his chosen pupil, “If you are to contribute to the annals of scholarship, you must be prepared to lay not only your comfort, but your very self upon the altar of discovery!” He used our stunned silence to pull a pad of paper and pencil from his desk and hand it to the student we were starting to see as a potential victim. “Your task for this lesson is to take detailed notes. On the interior of my mouth. From the [i]inside[/i].”\n\nThe color in the young man’s face was replaced with panicked confusion as to how that would be possible.\n\n“It’s quite simple! You will have three minutes to jot down every little detail of what your five senses perceive! The timer will begin the moment your [i]melon-sized, coconut-dense[/i] cranium is lodged between my jaws.” And so he did, encasing the jittery Junior’s head from cap to chin between his fully-exposed fangs.\n\nNobody could tell if the man was actually taking notes or if his hand was just shaking as the specter of death unveiled before him in the form of a red, ridged, slime-dripping gape lined with daggers, carpeted with a writhing pink slug as boggy brumes heaved directly into his face. After three minutes of morbid curiosity from the classroom and terror from the teacher’s test subject, the student was finally released-- just for Professaurus to read his notes aloud to the class.\n\n“Your notation was crude, your observations were curt, and halfway through it scrawled into a ‘final will and testament should anyone discover your remains.’ In other words, a FABULOUS first attempt! There is a monster field researcher in you yet! You may return to your seat.”\n\nOn one hand, I had never seen that lad so mortified before that day. But on the other hand, I never saw him so mortified any day after.\n\nAs the years drew on, the recurring classmates had come to expect unconventional lessons from the literary lizard, but who could expect anything else from such an unconventional educator? I’m just glad I wasn’t chosen for any of them. Yet.\n\nThe final credit of the final year arrived in the form of an upper-level class with every other penultimate course as a prerequisite, one which only students who had been on this journey since the beginning could sign up for: \"Relations With Monsters\"-- a new course being offered for the first time, with none other than the eccentric Professaurus at the helm.\nFor the nineteen students who remained after the prior semesters, this was the final hurdle between us and our certifications. But we nineteen were the most steadfast, most hardened, and boldest of the bunch, and we were ready for anything this finale could throw at us.\nAnd yet we still jumped in our seats the moment Professaurus’s form inflated through the still-too-small portal to the classroom the same way we had already witnessed hundreds of times before. As he sauntered up to the center of the dais and planted his claws upon the amethyst crown of his staff, he turned his draconic head slowly from side to side, long neck bent forward like a vulture, quietly surveying his most devoted students.\n\n“My esteemed colleagues,” Professaurus began, “Yes, ‘colleagues.’ I see you before me with a swelling of pride tempered with melancholy, for this is the capstone of your monstrologic journey. You stand now at the terminal port of your academic adventure with your eyes cast to the horizon. You, my friends, are those individuals whose curiosity has outweighed their aversion, who chose not to cower in the darkness but to seek light, and discerned insight as the antidote to fear. Even now, you are Monstrologists! And I am beyond elated to have been your guide on this extraordinary escapade.”\n\nProfessaurus paced across the front row, letting his tail sway behind him loftily. “Over the past years, you have dug through the soils of monster history, dived the briny depths of monster biology, and traversed the tangled woods of monster culture. You have equipped your minds with the tools and knowledge necessary to understand and interact with these enigmatic creatures! And now, it is time to put all that knowledge to the test.” he said, tapping the end of his cane on the hardwood floor. “This class, dear students, will take all that you have learned and catapult you headlong into the deepest chasms of Monstrology to explore the intricacies of coexistence with these magnificent beings! And though your accomplishments thus far have been commendable, I urge you to steel yourself for the challenges to come which shall test your mettle and push your every sense to its limit. As Monstrologists, you will venture into worlds unknown, facing fears and wonders that no human has ever imagined, and let me assure you, the first of those imaginings will happen [i]right here within these very walls![/i]”\n\nThe quiet hall somehow became even quieter.\n\n“I expect nothing but the best from each and every one of you. And with that, welcome to Relations With Monsters.”\n\nOur lessons started innocently enough. We learned the nuances of their movement, the importance of territorial respect, and the basic principles of monster diplomacy. Professaurus stressed that monsters respond to hostility with greater hostility, and by immersing ourselves in their worlds and learning their body language, customs, and rituals, we find roads which allow us to interact with them safely and amicably.\n\nHowever, though learning about these behaviors started off rather mundane, as the semester wore on, we began to learn some monster behaviors that humans would no doubt find uncomfortably physical… repellent… forceful… or even downright disgusting. Behaviors we non-monsters would find difficult to swallow… sometimes literally.\n\nFor one such instance, we learned how to earn the favor of the boar-like orcs should they build one of their many encampments within range of a human settlement. Towering, coarse-furred porcine brutes with snouts that snort rudely between their tusks, manes so bristly they poke holes through their ragged tunics, and the kind of intellect you'd think they could empty a whole keg of ale and come out SMARTER for it, one would assume to insult an orc would be a good way to decorate a pike with your neck hole. Rather, it so happens that the best way to get on an orc's good side is to brush up on your bar brawls! A lot of swearing, some clever verbal jabs provided they don't require TOO much brainpower to understand, and even though you'll inevitably end up roughhousing with the swine, it won't involve their spears! Be feisty, be scrappy. You'll lose the fight and probably your pride, but you'll win his respect. And to get us better used to interactions with them, Professaurus brought in one of the boarmen's tunics that has seen a LOT of melees. We were all instructed to get a good smell not just for territorial purposes, but to know what to expect should we tumble with one and find our faces pulled neck-deep into his sweltering, greasy, swampy armpit-- and to sniff that region specifically. Another one of their customs, it so happens. I’ll admit the phrase “sunk cost” crossed my mind when it was my turn.\n\nNaturally, scent played a large part in monster communication, as Professaurus taught us in another lesson. Many monsters excrete potent oils and pheromones for purposes of marking territory, communication, or as a natural defense. Of course, none of that is unheard of for anyone who owns pets or livestock. But how many humans are willing to press their noses under the hoisted tail of a sabrecat and lick his dirty anus for upwards of thirty minutes? Because THAT is how sabrecats prove they have no intention of challenging an alpha male’s status. Encountering sabrecats in the wild, (provided you were not ambushed from the brush and penetrated by fangs as long as your arms before you could even react), they pace from side to side in a manner that appears to be sizing up their prey. But note how they turn AWAY and flick their tails up each time they change direction . This is your chance to approach, slowly and reverently, and start slurping sabrecat sphincter. Though you will notice the odor before your tongue makes physical contact, you will eat it all up for as long as HE demands it-- which can be up to and over half an hour. If he lies down, get on your belly. If he walks away, follow him; just do NOT let neither of your “lips,” your front nor his rear, disconnect. Slurp his musk, and slurp it LOUDLY. Only when he turns around and licks you back, do you know you have made a friend, a hunting partner, and possibly even a mount. How… fortuitous it was that Professaurus had with him bottles of male sabrecat anal secretions for us all to sample, and NOT just with a simple sniff. He even brought crackers.\n\nBut the lesson that changed everything was the lesson on Mandrake Majors: burly walking dragons who adorn themselves in salvaged armor, shields, and swords, fetishizing human militaristic traditions and blending it with their own savage nature. Crudely chivalrous, elegantly barbarous, or as I call it, “Semper Filthy.” They travel in squads and practice their swordplay on anything they can to keep their skills honed, from tree trunks to travelers. And to keep their sword arms strong, since the ferocity with which they spar would surely kill their brothers-in-arms should they use real weaponry, they resort to the next “best” thing: mutual masturbation. In the rare instance you catch a company of Mandrake Majors at ease, seeing the martial reptiles standing in a circle, arms reached out to their sides, leathery bodies shaking as they grab and stroke each others’ members, evaluating their dexterity based on how well the others manipulate and fondle their most delicate, private regions. “The manner in which you run your fingertip across the curve of my coronal ridge is commendable. I can achieve orgasm from that action alone,” you may hear with the seriousness as if he was addressing an officer. “Sir, your claws are getting caught in my scrotal skin. You are focusing too much on your comrade’s penis. Cup my testicles in your palm and let gravity control the strength of your grip,” another will command. “Mind my phimosis. Greatly slow your downward stroke so the tightness of my foreskin’s opening provides stimulation around my glans. The underside shall become even more sensitive from the plumpness: a weak spot in my defenses.” \n\nSo what advice did Professaurus have for us to approach this odd lizard infantry? That, he said, is still somewhat of a puzzle, for the loyalty, exclusiveness, and combative nature of Mandrake Majors have left them largely a mystery-- a mystery that we, as future monstrologists, may yet solve. The theory that seems to have the most traction, Professaurus claimed, is that you may not be able to infiltrate their circles, but you may yet be able to get inside one of their CIRCLES. Their [i]training circles[/i]. And in order to do that, we must become accustomed to the company of masturbating dragons.\n\n“Are all monsters this, er… lewd?” asked one student. “If they are, how can we know how to… I guess ‘relate’ to them here, if they’re so… naughty?” And Professaurus needn’t answer with words.\n\nWith one little leap back, our prodigious professor bounded back upon his teacher’s desk, legs spread wide and tail curled low. And with a swipe of his claw, he brushed his tabard aside, and exposed to the whole class what it had been concealing this whole time.\n\nWe were all enamored and awed by Professaurus’s first appearance on the first day of our first year in monstrologic studies. His exotic form, his eloquent elocution, his capacity of knowing the unknowable... but all those things had become familiar to us as time and exposure made him less of a novelty. But here, in our final semester, we were gifted with the opportunity to see Professaurus for the first time, a second time.\n\nBetween his muscular, barrel-like thighs, the span of beige underbelly scales was anything but barren. Two massively-plump gonads stretched pink-tinted scrotal skin outward and across his smooth reptilian underside. And lying atop, nestled corpulently between the two engorged bulbs, slumped our professor’s penis, a distinguishable shaft of flesh enveloped by a thick yet supple hide that congregated at the tip into a bunchy foreskin that sagged further down the cleft between his testes. Not much further down, where his tail met his hips, a noticeably-darker mound of thickened flesh with a recessed pucker in its core was quite obviously his anus. It was a trifecta of sights I never thought I would see in such fine detail, because the entire bundle of Professaurus’s private parts were large enough that I had to question if I had been underestimating the size of his tabard if it was able to hide it all!\n\nToes wiggling and visage beaming as brightly as ever, the draconic don’s excitement radiated to more than just his feet and face. Whether it was all the previous discussions of monster intimacy or just having all eyes in the classroom fixated on his gifted goods, Professaurus’s serpentine cock wasted no time rising from its scrotal throne with heavy bobs as if nodding approvingly of the events to come, with a wink of his pucker just to complete the tableau.\n\n“I understand that what I ask of you is beyond memorizing facts and dates for exams, my dear students. Naked, I may be, but I assure you there is nothing more naked before you now than my soul! I ventured forth yearning to know and trust humans, and now, I beseech that you venture forth with a yearning to know and trust me, so that one day, human and monsterkind will know and trust each other. The classroom is nothing more than an imperfect illusion of reality, a burlesque that makes potable and elegant of the grim and vulgar. And while over the remainder of this final semester there will be much petting and probing of flesh and orifices alike with smells and substances strange and shocking, it is all but a rehearsal to the unscripted stage play life has set before you! We all began this voyage as strangers; me to you, you to I and each other. But when you have washed your hands of my class for the final time and I am but a glinting memory in your mind’s eye, you will know that there is no odyssey too bizarre to be comprehended, no challenge too obstructing to be surmounted. And I dare say, that is one of the greatest lessons that this institution, a teacher, AND life can offer: the courage to reach out and embrace the unfamiliar until it is familiar to the heart. As a monster myself, this is my gift to give. And with it, may we all learn, grow, and thrive.”\n\nSilence sat in the hall like a fog so thick, you could hear the blood surging through the dragon’s erect, throbbing penis.\n\n“Now, may I have a volunteer?”\n\n-------------------------------\n\nLike what I do and would like to support me? Check out my [b][url=https://t.me/+4YH_8zQ4KY4yMmVh]Telegram channel[/url][/b] for announcements and updates, and my [b][url=https://www.patreon.com/Dracovar]Patreon[/url][/b] for early access, WIPs, and polls on future art!", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Colleges are nothing if not open-minded.

I’ve decided to study Monstrology, despite my family’s objections. They tried to talk me out of it with the expected “It’s too dangerous” and “They’re going to eat you,” but the world needs people to understand these fiends if we’re to survive among them. That, and I’ve just always found them fascinating!

The first couple semesters were the usual liberal arts rigmarole I wanted to get out of the way early, just in case Monstrology didn’t work out. But the very week I enrolled in the Monstrology program, we received word that there will be an actual monster on campus-- as a TEACHER. There was the expected uproar from students, their families, and faculty alike about sharing space with a real, live, unleashed monster, but we were assured that whoever this beast was would be well-behaved and is suitably qualified for his position. Many students dropped out. But despite an initial dip in attendance, it attracted a different breed of students who were either curious, crazy, or both. Those who took their academic life elsewhere said those who remained were “idiots.” Since it would be hypocritical of me to stake out my future as a Monstrologist and refuse to be within spitting distance of one, I went to college to be an idiot.

It did not take long for me to spot the creature of controversy. Nine feet tall and wide enough his desk would be better suited as a bench, a bipedal dragon with dark eyes punctuating a toothy snout that could bite off a limb in a single chomp! If there was any penalty for failure, you’d think it would be getting stomped beneath one of his giant, burly, scaly soles into a red pulp after dousing your thesis in flames with a scalding scolding! One mindless swipe of his brawny tail would send even the most corpulent professor tumbling down like a stack of books in the library. I do not know if costuming him in a mortarboard cap, shawl, and tabard was his idea or the school’s to make him appear more sage and congruous, but I honestly found it gaudy and tacky. Nonetheless, many of those who chose to remain enrolled still gave the goliath a wide breadth.

But of course, much like the monster himself, even humans have their share of oddities. It was not uncommon for him to have an entourage of gawkers, inquirers, and some whom I’d dare call “fans”-- the type who would start a club for him that he’d know nothing about. I can’t deny that it made me curious to learn more about him. And it would seem I’d have my opportunity, since a number of professors who taught Monstrology had (ironically) dropped out, leaving their positions to be filled by none other than this erudite eldritch eccentricity known only as “Professaurus”-- another adornment I found confusing and garish in equal measure.

And there, in “Monstrology 101: An Introductory History and Bestiary,” it began. Even seeing the scaly scholar beforehand, he appeared even larger, more imposing as his long neck bowed to duck beneath the double doors and proceed to the front of the classroom, having reached the desk even before his tail had fully withdrawn from the entrance. His academic attire did nothing to hide his behemoth proportions-- jarringly-large haunches with digitigrade legs that made every floorboard creak beneath his tremendous weight, long scaly snout riddled with fangs jutting outward from his maw like a crocodile, eyes like onyx orbs with a yellow iris bright as a single candle lit at the end of a dark attic, scales grassy green and his belly beige, and webbed wing-like frills adorning his ear holes that were... admittedly kind of cute.

“Welcome, one and all! Welcome to what is not merely a class, but the first stirring notes of an overture that is the wondrous, mystic, dire, enlightening, and reflective story of monsters!” His voice resonated through the classroom like a gong, as one would expect from such a sizable maw, though one quite well-practiced in our own tongue. “You, my eager young academicians, have chosen to tread where few humans have dared to set foot. You have set aside your reservations and left your sanctums behind to venture into the terrifying unknown in the name of knowledge. For that, I commend you!” said our hulking, reptilian teacher with animated gestures of a cane bejeweled with an amethyst orb. “I am Professaurus, and should you find any incredulity in that name, know this...” said the dragon with his neck craned low to look the student body sternly above the rim of his monocle. “...At least it’s easy to remember!”

The tense silence in the classroom was perforated with laughter, some of which was still uneasy, but I could feel the air warm as my anxiety eased.

“Now,” Professaurus continued, “you may be wondering, ‘Why should we study these beasts? They are dangerous, deadly, utterly alien to our understanding of the world, and they smell bad!’ My friends, it is in their alien nature that we find the true value of Monstrology! We study monsters not to simply understand them, but to understand ourselves! For in the mirror of their eyes, we see reflected the very essence of what it means to be ourselves AND the other, because we are both one and the same at any instant in our lives,” said Professaurus to the enraptured classroom, though whether they were enraptured by his words or just what they were coming out of was uncertain. “Monsters are not merely creatures of myth and legend, nor are they not simply beasts to be slain hither and thither! No, they are sentient beings, each with their own cultures, societies, and histories. To study them is to explore the vast and wondrous diversity of life in this world. To ignore them is to turn a blind eye to the very richness and complexity of existence itself. Therefore, my chosen approach to the field of Monstrology will be that of providing you with the framework for building bridges, attaining understanding, and perhaps even forming bonds with monsters.”

This is more what I expected.

“And with what better place to start than that very word: ‘monster,’” said Professaurus, scrawling it on the chalkboard and standing next to it as if providing a living illustration. “The very word I use to describe myself and others of my ilk, and use it liberally and without misgivings I do! It may seem counterintuitive, given our species’ contentious history, to not recoil at such a loaded term. If we are to one day coexist with you humans in harmony, why not begin by eradicating the very word that has come to represent all that is grotesque, malevolent, and frightening to you? Simply change the language, and lo! The barriers between us crumble away, peace reigns forevermore, and we all live happily ever after!” said Professaurus with disingenuous saccharine. “However! I submit to you, esteemed students, that to do so would be to pour a fresh layer of mortar upon the walls that already exist between our kinds!”

Many eyes around me widened, alight with intrigue.

“By attempting to bury the term ‘monster,’ we would only succeed in driving it deeper into the collective consciousness, a malignant seed from which resentment and fear would inevitably bloom anew. Instead of browbeating each other with inane linguistic acrobatics, let us defang the term, rather than pigeonhole it where it may fester and spoil from a category into a slur. We, human and monster both, must not lie to ourselves about our intrinsic differences. The cooperation and friendship humans and monsters may yet share must be earned, not forced. I am a monster. And it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Truly, this was no feral brute. In mere minutes, what was once a sea of nervous and agitated students had metamorphosed into a throng of the enthralled.

And the classes that followed proved to be no exception to that spell he so effortlessly cast each time we gathered. In every one, Professaurus conducted the room effortlessly, and I, like everyone else, found myself being drawn in more by the minute. His passion was effusive, his expertise voluminous, his enthusiasm galvanic, and his diction… well, a tad pleonastic, but at least I’m learning new words! With his tutelage, the prospects of my academic career brimmed with the promise of untold wonders and tantalizing revelations about the creatures I had been hearing about only in textbooks and gossip until now.

Over the following semesters, we studied all manners of monster life, biology, behavior, and history, including the ecosystems they inhabit, the complex social structures of their societies, and the rich cultures they developed over millennia even without the influence of humans. Each lecture was a journey into the unknown, guided by one very learned leviathan. However, as much as I was learning about monsters, there was one I was learning practically nothing about: Professaurus himself. Where did he come from? How did he come to be so scholastic while the rest of his kin wallow in baneful savagery? Is “Professaurus” even his real name? I know not, but I will have time to inquire; due to so much of the teaching staff having absconded with their experience, it appeared much of the path to earning my Monstrology degree will be tread in his very large, anisodactyl footsteps.

But what a strange, surreal journey it has been. Two more semesters and more than half of those classes being headed by Professaurus has proven him to be quite the eclectic educator. Being a monster himself afforded Professaurus some unique methods of teaching-- ones that he certainly took advantage of.

For instance, in the class “Human Seeking Monster: Tracks and Trails,” our massive mentor sat upon one of the student’s benches and clasped his enormous, four-toed footclaws around two of the students’ heads to provide a sample for what a monster’s footprint looks like! And smells like.

“Since it would be undeniably unwise to have you waltz willy-nilly through treacherous territories pursuing paws of fascinating fauna, I bring them to you!” said Professaurus, much to the dismay of those whose nostrils were ensnared in the folds of his fleshy feet.

And that’s not all. He knew that there was still a lingering air of trepidation among the student body from having a monster as their instructor, and he used this to his advantage during his “Fundamentals of Field Research” course. The odd watermelon and coconuts on his desk came into use when he hoisted each one into his jaws and clamped them into mush with one swift bite as easily one would a grape. At first, I thought he had merely skipped lunch, until with a dramatic “YOU!” and a sweeping thrust of his cane, he pointed in the direction of one particularly skittish student who always sat as far away from the front as possible. “Step forward.”

Once the visibly-shaken student stood next to our titanic teacher, Professaurus clasped a claw upon his shoulder and turned to address us.

“Know this, dear students. Monstrology is not all reviewing facts sequestered in the tomes of yesteryear,” he said, drumming his taloned fingers on the shoulder of his chosen pupil, “If you are to contribute to the annals of scholarship, you must be prepared to lay not only your comfort, but your very self upon the altar of discovery!” He used our stunned silence to pull a pad of paper and pencil from his desk and hand it to the student we were starting to see as a potential victim. “Your task for this lesson is to take detailed notes. On the interior of my mouth. From the inside.”

The color in the young man’s face was replaced with panicked confusion as to how that would be possible.

“It’s quite simple! You will have three minutes to jot down every little detail of what your five senses perceive! The timer will begin the moment your melon-sized, coconut-dense cranium is lodged between my jaws.” And so he did, encasing the jittery Junior’s head from cap to chin between his fully-exposed fangs.

Nobody could tell if the man was actually taking notes or if his hand was just shaking as the specter of death unveiled before him in the form of a red, ridged, slime-dripping gape lined with daggers, carpeted with a writhing pink slug as boggy brumes heaved directly into his face. After three minutes of morbid curiosity from the classroom and terror from the teacher’s test subject, the student was finally released-- just for Professaurus to read his notes aloud to the class.

“Your notation was crude, your observations were curt, and halfway through it scrawled into a ‘final will and testament should anyone discover your remains.’ In other words, a FABULOUS first attempt! There is a monster field researcher in you yet! You may return to your seat.”

On one hand, I had never seen that lad so mortified before that day. But on the other hand, I never saw him so mortified any day after.

As the years drew on, the recurring classmates had come to expect unconventional lessons from the literary lizard, but who could expect anything else from such an unconventional educator? I’m just glad I wasn’t chosen for any of them. Yet.

The final credit of the final year arrived in the form of an upper-level class with every other penultimate course as a prerequisite, one which only students who had been on this journey since the beginning could sign up for: "Relations With Monsters"-- a new course being offered for the first time, with none other than the eccentric Professaurus at the helm.
For the nineteen students who remained after the prior semesters, this was the final hurdle between us and our certifications. But we nineteen were the most steadfast, most hardened, and boldest of the bunch, and we were ready for anything this finale could throw at us.
And yet we still jumped in our seats the moment Professaurus’s form inflated through the still-too-small portal to the classroom the same way we had already witnessed hundreds of times before. As he sauntered up to the center of the dais and planted his claws upon the amethyst crown of his staff, he turned his draconic head slowly from side to side, long neck bent forward like a vulture, quietly surveying his most devoted students.

“My esteemed colleagues,” Professaurus began, “Yes, ‘colleagues.’ I see you before me with a swelling of pride tempered with melancholy, for this is the capstone of your monstrologic journey. You stand now at the terminal port of your academic adventure with your eyes cast to the horizon. You, my friends, are those individuals whose curiosity has outweighed their aversion, who chose not to cower in the darkness but to seek light, and discerned insight as the antidote to fear. Even now, you are Monstrologists! And I am beyond elated to have been your guide on this extraordinary escapade.”

Professaurus paced across the front row, letting his tail sway behind him loftily. “Over the past years, you have dug through the soils of monster history, dived the briny depths of monster biology, and traversed the tangled woods of monster culture. You have equipped your minds with the tools and knowledge necessary to understand and interact with these enigmatic creatures! And now, it is time to put all that knowledge to the test.” he said, tapping the end of his cane on the hardwood floor. “This class, dear students, will take all that you have learned and catapult you headlong into the deepest chasms of Monstrology to explore the intricacies of coexistence with these magnificent beings! And though your accomplishments thus far have been commendable, I urge you to steel yourself for the challenges to come which shall test your mettle and push your every sense to its limit. As Monstrologists, you will venture into worlds unknown, facing fears and wonders that no human has ever imagined, and let me assure you, the first of those imaginings will happen right here within these very walls!”

The quiet hall somehow became even quieter.

“I expect nothing but the best from each and every one of you. And with that, welcome to Relations With Monsters.”

Our lessons started innocently enough. We learned the nuances of their movement, the importance of territorial respect, and the basic principles of monster diplomacy. Professaurus stressed that monsters respond to hostility with greater hostility, and by immersing ourselves in their worlds and learning their body language, customs, and rituals, we find roads which allow us to interact with them safely and amicably.

However, though learning about these behaviors started off rather mundane, as the semester wore on, we began to learn some monster behaviors that humans would no doubt find uncomfortably physical… repellent… forceful… or even downright disgusting. Behaviors we non-monsters would find difficult to swallow… sometimes literally.

For one such instance, we learned how to earn the favor of the boar-like orcs should they build one of their many encampments within range of a human settlement. Towering, coarse-furred porcine brutes with snouts that snort rudely between their tusks, manes so bristly they poke holes through their ragged tunics, and the kind of intellect you'd think they could empty a whole keg of ale and come out SMARTER for it, one would assume to insult an orc would be a good way to decorate a pike with your neck hole. Rather, it so happens that the best way to get on an orc's good side is to brush up on your bar brawls! A lot of swearing, some clever verbal jabs provided they don't require TOO much brainpower to understand, and even though you'll inevitably end up roughhousing with the swine, it won't involve their spears! Be feisty, be scrappy. You'll lose the fight and probably your pride, but you'll win his respect. And to get us better used to interactions with them, Professaurus brought in one of the boarmen's tunics that has seen a LOT of melees. We were all instructed to get a good smell not just for territorial purposes, but to know what to expect should we tumble with one and find our faces pulled neck-deep into his sweltering, greasy, swampy armpit-- and to sniff that region specifically. Another one of their customs, it so happens. I’ll admit the phrase “sunk cost” crossed my mind when it was my turn.

Naturally, scent played a large part in monster communication, as Professaurus taught us in another lesson. Many monsters excrete potent oils and pheromones for purposes of marking territory, communication, or as a natural defense. Of course, none of that is unheard of for anyone who owns pets or livestock. But how many humans are willing to press their noses under the hoisted tail of a sabrecat and lick his dirty anus for upwards of thirty minutes? Because THAT is how sabrecats prove they have no intention of challenging an alpha male’s status. Encountering sabrecats in the wild, (provided you were not ambushed from the brush and penetrated by fangs as long as your arms before you could even react), they pace from side to side in a manner that appears to be sizing up their prey. But note how they turn AWAY and flick their tails up each time they change direction . This is your chance to approach, slowly and reverently, and start slurping sabrecat sphincter. Though you will notice the odor before your tongue makes physical contact, you will eat it all up for as long as HE demands it-- which can be up to and over half an hour. If he lies down, get on your belly. If he walks away, follow him; just do NOT let neither of your “lips,” your front nor his rear, disconnect. Slurp his musk, and slurp it LOUDLY. Only when he turns around and licks you back, do you know you have made a friend, a hunting partner, and possibly even a mount. How… fortuitous it was that Professaurus had with him bottles of male sabrecat anal secretions for us all to sample, and NOT just with a simple sniff. He even brought crackers.

But the lesson that changed everything was the lesson on Mandrake Majors: burly walking dragons who adorn themselves in salvaged armor, shields, and swords, fetishizing human militaristic traditions and blending it with their own savage nature. Crudely chivalrous, elegantly barbarous, or as I call it, “Semper Filthy.” They travel in squads and practice their swordplay on anything they can to keep their skills honed, from tree trunks to travelers. And to keep their sword arms strong, since the ferocity with which they spar would surely kill their brothers-in-arms should they use real weaponry, they resort to the next “best” thing: mutual masturbation. In the rare instance you catch a company of Mandrake Majors at ease, seeing the martial reptiles standing in a circle, arms reached out to their sides, leathery bodies shaking as they grab and stroke each others’ members, evaluating their dexterity based on how well the others manipulate and fondle their most delicate, private regions. “The manner in which you run your fingertip across the curve of my coronal ridge is commendable. I can achieve orgasm from that action alone,” you may hear with the seriousness as if he was addressing an officer. “Sir, your claws are getting caught in my scrotal skin. You are focusing too much on your comrade’s penis. Cup my testicles in your palm and let gravity control the strength of your grip,” another will command. “Mind my phimosis. Greatly slow your downward stroke so the tightness of my foreskin’s opening provides stimulation around my glans. The underside shall become even more sensitive from the plumpness: a weak spot in my defenses.”

So what advice did Professaurus have for us to approach this odd lizard infantry? That, he said, is still somewhat of a puzzle, for the loyalty, exclusiveness, and combative nature of Mandrake Majors have left them largely a mystery-- a mystery that we, as future monstrologists, may yet solve. The theory that seems to have the most traction, Professaurus claimed, is that you may not be able to infiltrate their circles, but you may yet be able to get inside one of their CIRCLES. Their training circles. And in order to do that, we must become accustomed to the company of masturbating dragons.

“Are all monsters this, er… lewd?” asked one student. “If they are, how can we know how to… I guess ‘relate’ to them here, if they’re so… naughty?” And Professaurus needn’t answer with words.

With one little leap back, our prodigious professor bounded back upon his teacher’s desk, legs spread wide and tail curled low. And with a swipe of his claw, he brushed his tabard aside, and exposed to the whole class what it had been concealing this whole time.

We were all enamored and awed by Professaurus’s first appearance on the first day of our first year in monstrologic studies. His exotic form, his eloquent elocution, his capacity of knowing the unknowable... but all those things had become familiar to us as time and exposure made him less of a novelty. But here, in our final semester, we were gifted with the opportunity to see Professaurus for the first time, a second time.

Between his muscular, barrel-like thighs, the span of beige underbelly scales was anything but barren. Two massively-plump gonads stretched pink-tinted scrotal skin outward and across his smooth reptilian underside. And lying atop, nestled corpulently between the two engorged bulbs, slumped our professor’s penis, a distinguishable shaft of flesh enveloped by a thick yet supple hide that congregated at the tip into a bunchy foreskin that sagged further down the cleft between his testes. Not much further down, where his tail met his hips, a noticeably-darker mound of thickened flesh with a recessed pucker in its core was quite obviously his anus. It was a trifecta of sights I never thought I would see in such fine detail, because the entire bundle of Professaurus’s private parts were large enough that I had to question if I had been underestimating the size of his tabard if it was able to hide it all!

Toes wiggling and visage beaming as brightly as ever, the draconic don’s excitement radiated to more than just his feet and face. Whether it was all the previous discussions of monster intimacy or just having all eyes in the classroom fixated on his gifted goods, Professaurus’s serpentine cock wasted no time rising from its scrotal throne with heavy bobs as if nodding approvingly of the events to come, with a wink of his pucker just to complete the tableau.

“I understand that what I ask of you is beyond memorizing facts and dates for exams, my dear students. Naked, I may be, but I assure you there is nothing more naked before you now than my soul! I ventured forth yearning to know and trust humans, and now, I beseech that you venture forth with a yearning to know and trust me, so that one day, human and monsterkind will know and trust each other. The classroom is nothing more than an imperfect illusion of reality, a burlesque that makes potable and elegant of the grim and vulgar. And while over the remainder of this final semester there will be much petting and probing of flesh and orifices alike with smells and substances strange and shocking, it is all but a rehearsal to the unscripted stage play life has set before you! We all began this voyage as strangers; me to you, you to I and each other. But when you have washed your hands of my class for the final time and I am but a glinting memory in your mind’s eye, you will know that there is no odyssey too bizarre to be comprehended, no challenge too obstructing to be surmounted. And I dare say, that is one of the greatest lessons that this institution, a teacher, AND life can offer: the courage to reach out and embrace the unfamiliar until it is familiar to the heart. As a monster myself, this is my gift to give. And with it, may we all learn, grow, and thrive.”

Silence sat in the hall like a fog so thick, you could hear the blood surging through the dragon’s erect, throbbing penis.

“Now, may I have a volunteer?”

-------------------------------

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