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This is a commissioned piece for \n\t\t\t\t\tMarkus_McCloud. If you'd like to get some work done from me, please consider checking out my Linktree.

Posted using PostyBirb", "writing": "Markus approaches the dark castle. The dragon adventurer grips his trusty sword in his hand. The two-pronged blade crackles with electric fury, ready to be fully charged and to strike down the oppressive mistress of the keep, the great, terrible, and powerful Cynder.\nHis march through the dungeon is a thing of epic legend—a one-adventurer show of facing off against guardians and magical traps. His cloak is singed, and his armor dinged, but there’s no real damage that the simple chugging of a healing potion can’t undo.\nAnd he chugs it down, standing before the massive double doors that lead to the throne room. Of course, such an evil monarch would hold herself in a place of power even while all her defenses are falling down. The dragon steels himself, his weapon at the ready, and with a hefty kick, he knocks the doors open.\nIn the massive chamber, a carpet leads toward an ostentatious throne, much too large for anyone to sit on, dwarfing the magnificent size of the queen sitting upon it. It is Cynder, her dark scales gleaming, one leg crossed over the other, toes wiggling expectantly. Her claws clack on the arms of the chair and tap upon her bored cheek, a bemused smirk spreading over her face.\nHer body is draped by an inky black dress that covers her up in all the right places, showing off the scales at her sides and her thighs and plunging oh-so-low to show off.\nHer\nMassive\nFucking\nTits!\nMarkus’s grip loosens slightly as he stares at her, his jaw slack and eyes wide. When she presses her claws to the arms and pushes herself up to a standing position, he shakes himself out of his tit-induced stupor. He grips his weapon tightly, gritting his teeth. “I won’t let you continue your evil plan!” he shouts with the conviction of a hero.\nShe blinks, scowling. “At least let me have my villainous speech, you little peon!” she scoffs at him, stepping down from her throne, her tail and her hips swishing, her breasts bouncing.\n“Ah, right, I thought you were ready to fight!”\nShe rolls her eyes, hands on her hips. “It seems like someone is so wowed by the enormity of this situation. I might as well end you right here and now,” she says, spreading her wings and rushing toward him.\nMarkus leaps back, using his sword as a shield as she spins and slams her tail at him. Sparks crackle from the blade, and he parries her, sending her spinning around, but she dips down and swipes up with her palm, striking him on the jaw.\nMarkus stumbles back, but he puts up the defensive again as she comes in, swiping and slashing with tail and claw, staring down at the male with a smug look of superiority with each and every strike. “Is this the best the kingdom can do to send against me? I thought you were a great hero, not some novice swordsman! Are you nothing but some little baby!?” she leaps up, spinning forward, whipping her tail down at him with the force of her momentum!\nHe leaps out of the way, the tail crashing at the tiled floor, sending fragments flying upward through the force. They float through magical power, which she manipulates, sending forth with a wave of her hand.\nMarkus deflects each of them, the last one he infuses with the magical sparking of his sword and sends, striking her right upon the cheek.\nShe stumbles back, rubbing her cheek, growling, staring at him through an unscathed eye. “You are a mighty warrior, indeed!” she snarls. “Your trickery won’t get you far, though,” she says, holding her hand out and forming from the black ether her blade of dark magical energy.\nRushing forward, she clashes with him, the two dragons staring each other in the eyes as shadows and sparks clash, their muscles aching, their focus wavering as they press against each other, one blade bound to break before the other.\nAnd it is the blade of shadow that yields!\nMarkus follows this attack with a swift kick, sending Cynder stumbling back, clutching at her stomach.\n“How dare you make a mockery of me!” she snarls. “Don’t think you’ve won yet!”\n“It’s time to give it up,” Markus says, holding his sword to the side. He brings magical energy to it, swirling through the blade, sparking and crackling in the ether.\nHe grips it with handles and slashes, sending an electric streak of energy that goes straight for the stunned Cynder, striking her. The flashing explosion of the ultimate heroic strike fills the room!\nMarkus stands there, breathing heavily, lowering his weapon and his shoulders, staring off at the smoking remains where the hit struck Cynder. But through the magical mist, the dragon's form appears, stepping through, chuckling low, her hands on her hips.\nShe’s unhurt, save for some smudges from the magical explosion that hit her, her scales unmarred, her face as confident as ever.\nThere is one difference, though. That black dress has been slashed and shredded by the attack, the straps holding it over her shoulders destroyed, leaving the tattered fabric to lay by her hips.\nAnd with the material no longer covering her body, it reveals quite a surprise.\nNot only are her breasts massive, held by the fabric through hopes and prayers alone, but something drips from them. For a moment, Markus thought he might have cut her. No, the fluid drips straight from her nipples, dripping onto the floor, a creamy white substance that keeps spilling, even as she walks forward, not paying attention to it.\nBut he pays attention to that milk, licking his lips.\nHis stomach growls, and his eyes lock on it.\nSeeing all this, Cynder chuckles. “Well, now… isn’t this interesting…”", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Markus approaches the dark castle. The dragon adventurer grips his trusty sword in his hand. The two-pronged blade crackles with electric fury, ready to be fully charged and to strike down the oppressive mistress of the keep, the great, terrible, and powerful Cynder.
His march through the dungeon is a thing of epic legend—a one-adventurer show of facing off against guardians and magical traps. His cloak is singed, and his armor dinged, but there’s no real damage that the simple chugging of a healing potion can’t undo.
And he chugs it down, standing before the massive double doors that lead to the throne room. Of course, such an evil monarch would hold herself in a place of power even while all her defenses are falling down. The dragon steels himself, his weapon at the ready, and with a hefty kick, he knocks the doors open.
In the massive chamber, a carpet leads toward an ostentatious throne, much too large for anyone to sit on, dwarfing the magnificent size of the queen sitting upon it. It is Cynder, her dark scales gleaming, one leg crossed over the other, toes wiggling expectantly. Her claws clack on the arms of the chair and tap upon her bored cheek, a bemused smirk spreading over her face.
Her body is draped by an inky black dress that covers her up in all the right places, showing off the scales at her sides and her thighs and plunging oh-so-low to show off.
Her
Massive
Fucking
Tits!
Markus’s grip loosens slightly as he stares at her, his jaw slack and eyes wide. When she presses her claws to the arms and pushes herself up to a standing position, he shakes himself out of his tit-induced stupor. He grips his weapon tightly, gritting his teeth. “I won’t let you continue your evil plan!” he shouts with the conviction of a hero.
She blinks, scowling. “At least let me have my villainous speech, you little peon!” she scoffs at him, stepping down from her throne, her tail and her hips swishing, her breasts bouncing.
“Ah, right, I thought you were ready to fight!”
She rolls her eyes, hands on her hips. “It seems like someone is so wowed by the enormity of this situation. I might as well end you right here and now,” she says, spreading her wings and rushing toward him.
Markus leaps back, using his sword as a shield as she spins and slams her tail at him. Sparks crackle from the blade, and he parries her, sending her spinning around, but she dips down and swipes up with her palm, striking him on the jaw.
Markus stumbles back, but he puts up the defensive again as she comes in, swiping and slashing with tail and claw, staring down at the male with a smug look of superiority with each and every strike. “Is this the best the kingdom can do to send against me? I thought you were a great hero, not some novice swordsman! Are you nothing but some little baby!?” she leaps up, spinning forward, whipping her tail down at him with the force of her momentum!
He leaps out of the way, the tail crashing at the tiled floor, sending fragments flying upward through the force. They float through magical power, which she manipulates, sending forth with a wave of her hand.
Markus deflects each of them, the last one he infuses with the magical sparking of his sword and sends, striking her right upon the cheek.
She stumbles back, rubbing her cheek, growling, staring at him through an unscathed eye. “You are a mighty warrior, indeed!” she snarls.  “Your trickery won’t get you far, though,” she says, holding her hand out and forming from the black ether her blade of dark magical energy.
Rushing forward, she clashes with him, the two dragons staring each other in the eyes as shadows and sparks clash, their muscles aching, their focus wavering as they press against each other, one blade bound to break before the other.
And it is the blade of shadow that yields!
Markus follows this attack with a swift kick, sending Cynder stumbling back, clutching at her stomach.
“How dare you make a mockery of me!” she snarls. “Don’t think you’ve won yet!”
“It’s time to give it up,” Markus says, holding his sword to the side. He brings magical energy to it, swirling through the blade, sparking and crackling in the ether.
He grips it with handles and slashes, sending an electric streak of energy that goes straight for the stunned Cynder, striking her. The flashing explosion of the ultimate heroic strike fills the room!
Markus stands there, breathing heavily, lowering his weapon and his shoulders, staring off at the smoking remains where the hit struck Cynder. But through the magical mist, the dragon's form appears, stepping through, chuckling low, her hands on her hips.
She’s unhurt, save for some smudges from the magical explosion that hit her, her scales unmarred, her face as confident as ever.
There is one difference, though. That black dress has been slashed and shredded by the attack, the straps holding it over her shoulders destroyed, leaving the tattered fabric to lay by her hips.
And with the material no longer covering her body, it reveals quite a surprise.
Not only are her breasts massive, held by the fabric through hopes and prayers alone, but something drips from them. For a moment, Markus thought he might have cut her. No, the fluid drips straight from her nipples, dripping onto the floor, a creamy white substance that keeps spilling, even as she walks forward, not paying attention to it.
But he pays attention to that milk, licking his lips.
His stomach growls, and his eyes lock on it.
Seeing all this, Cynder chuckles. “Well, now… isn’t this interesting…”", "pools_count": 0, "title": "Cynder's Persuasive Proposal 1", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "text/plain", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "1", "rating_name": "Mature", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "2", "name": "Nudity", "description": "Nonsexual nudity exposing breasts or genitals (must not show arousal)", "rating_id": "1" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "f", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "0", "views": "107" }