[b][u][center]The Golden Alchemist The Fall of Arrowdell, Part 2 For Engy By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b] Malcolm, the mayor of Arrowdell, was praying in the church the day that everything changed. Perhaps things might have been different if he was in his office, or if he’d been wandering the town as some of the prior mayors had done, but he wasn’t. He was seated in the wooden pews, his ass hurting like it did every time that he came to pray, and he was doing his best to ignore the outside world for some precious few minutes. His fingers ached as he clenched them together a bit tighter, lowering his head over his hands and bumping his forehead against his fists. The feeling was not dissimilar to the constant pounding headache he had from all the people in Arrowdell complaining about their alchemist. [i]We need an alchemist,[/i] he’d told them. [i]If you want to complain, complain at him. I don’t have time for this.[/i] They didn’t want to listen to that. They wanted him to kick the dragon out, to send him flying to the far corners of the town, to make him leave them alone. The citizens that were angry just wouldn’t stop, and the people that seemed to like this ‘Engy’ – for reasons that he generally couldn’t figure out – were never there to give their own case on the matter. In the end, he just told them to sort it out themselves. He wasn’t going to come out and say that the dragon deserved to stay. That would cost him the next election, and he wanted to keep his position, much as there were days when he utterly hated all the responsibilities that came with it. [i]They’re nothing but a bunch of fools. Who cares if he is a dragon? He’s an alchemist, and we need an alchemist, no matter who they are.[/i] Particularly for all the taxes that meant would come through the city. Arrowdell had become more and more of a farming town, with fewer and fewer luxuries available to them. The fewer of those there were, the less that the town actually made. But alchemy? Potions? Those were the bread and butter of small towns like theirs. If they didn’t have someone making them, particularly in large batches to sell on the road, then this place would dry up. He needed Engy to keep making potions. Besides, the guy was a dragon. He could take what they dished out, the mayor was sure. Non-humans didn’t need human help. At least, that was what the priests said. Malcolm opened his eyes, the middle-aged mayor sighing as he looked past tanned hands that still hadn’t lost the wrinkles and callouses that working in the field had given them. He had stained them with ink so many times before he got used to the feeling of pens and paper rather than hard, blunt tools. Still, they were better than they had been, softened by the work that he did day in and day out to keep the town profitable. The priests appreciated that, particularly when he had established a trade route back to the capital via a few other towns. It gave them a more direct connection with the treasuries that their greater, more successful cathedrals had…and they didn’t mind sending him a kickback now and then when he asked, so long as he kept those trade routes open. In exchange, he allowed them to operate as they liked. He even followed their god, some sort of amalgamation of everything that was good about humans, as far as he could gather. According to them, this deity created humans first, with all the other races being some deviation from the prime human stock, and the monsters being humans that had fallen from grace. He wasn’t sure if he believed it, but if it got him paid, then he was fine enough with pretending to, and even throwing a few festivals in their honor to get the rest of the townsfolk to donate to them afterward. Still, times like this, he would have liked to have a little peace. Maybe there was a point in pursuing the religion properly, rather than just giving it lip service. [i]And if it gives me reason to actually push the alchemist into a tight contract or something…[/i] Malcolm smiled a bit at that. It was a temptation, really. The dragon was an adventurer, and someone that obviously had enough power to be dangerous if he ever got upset. That was one reason that he had allowed the amputee entry to the city, to avoid any conflict between the fat guards that kept Arrowdell safe and the adventurer that could probably make mincemeat of the lot of them. The last thing that he wanted was to see the streets run red with blood, particularly when it was human blood. But if he could leash the dragon, making sure that the profit kept flowing and that the dragon himself was no longer a danger, then he would certainly be tempted. Tempted enough to send a message to the capital and get a mage down here to make it happen, perhaps. And then the citizens would leave the dragon alone, too. After all, he’d be leashed. He’d be kept on a collar for the mayor, no threat to anyone, really. [i]Hmmm, it might be worth pursuing. I’ll have to ask the high priest if there’s a clause in their religion about indentured servants – or even slaves.[/i] The once-farmer was just starting to smile when the world shook. The priests were thrown from their feet, and even the mayor was almost knocked out of his own pew from the violence of the earthquake. He grabbed the seat in front of him, waiting for it to fade, and was shocked when it took almost a minute to completely fade away. Getting to his feet, the mayor grabbed one of the silver-robed priests running by. “What was that?” “The end of the world…” “What are you talking about?” “Look outside!” As the priest wiggled free, the mayor made his way to one of the windows. He glanced outside, and as far as he could tell, everything was fine. The houses were all standing, the grasses looked good… And then he looked up. Malcolm’s eyes went wide as he saw the burning dome that covered the town, his mouth hanging open as the heat started to spread through the air. He broke out in a sweat as soon as it touched him, and he panted for breath as the air turned humid and hot. The rest of the priests were panicking, with only the head priest at the far end of the church behind the altar looking at all calm. He wasn’t even sure that the bearded man was, however; all he could see was a still face and a rapidly-moving mouth. [i]What the hell is this magic?[/i] There were no wizards in town, no sorcerers that could cause this sort of sudden explosion of power. There weren’t any registered demon-touched folks, either, though that might have slipped the notice, considering the corruption of his clerks. He’d encouraged it, and it might have come back to bite him in the ass. He didn’t think that was it, though. This didn’t feel like that…not to mention that the dome was already starting to disappear. It had formed, burned, and faded, and the sky was blue above them again. Almost. Almost blue. He stared at the sparkling lights in the sky, realizing that there was still something up there. The fire might have faded, but the magic that had created it was still present. Something still covered the town of Arrowdell. [i]What…the fuck…[/i] Something had gone beyond wrong, and they needed to figure it out soon if they were going to fix it. If they were going to live through it, more accurately. Malcolm left the window, marching towards the door out of the church. He threw it open – “Holy fuck!” And had to lean back almost immediately. It wasn’t so much like standing in front of a fire as it was standing in front of a blacksmith’s forge. The road through town had gone fire-red, and it burned with such heat that his robes of office were immediately drenched, soaked through in the front and clinging to him. Malcolm slammed the doors shut, barely able to breathe through the heat that still lingered afterwards. He stumbled back to the pews, shaking his head and gasping until the air was cool enough not to scorch his lungs. As he flattened himself against it, he felt the heat around them growing higher and higher, all coming from the road. There was no way that any of them would be able to leave, not now. The air was too hot for any human to take. They were isolated, forced to stay indoors. Why? Who had done this? When he had recovered enough, he managed to get back to his feet. He stumbled along the central aisle of the church, walking up to the altar where the priests congregated. Most of them were on their knees, praying to the idol of their god, while the head priest stood behind it, his arms outstretched and his eyes closed. Malcolm stood behind him, whispering quietly. “What is going on?” “I speak for the gods when I say, a monster has come upon us.” “What kind?” “A monster of yellow and gold, who brews unspeakable things.” “Engy, then. There’s no way that alchemist would have the balls to do something like this.” “The horrors of hell, the corrupted of mankind, have much to their credit. He is coming.” “Here?” “There is no other place that he hates more than here. He will come, and he will seek our destruction.” Well, that was something worth knowing about. It wasn’t the best outcome, but if Engy was coming…well, perhaps there was a deal to be made. He was good at that. # A half hour later, the door to the church burst open. Malcolm, along with the priests, turned their heads from the altar to the front door, even as the sweat-inducing heat entered with their new guests. He should have expected that there would be some changes. If the alchemist was on the warpath, then he would have a number of things to turn against the townsfolk. What he hadn’t expected was the degree of changes. Seeing a snake, two geckos, a muscular reptile, and a kobold was strange enough. There were none of them in the village, as he had allowed none of them to settle there, but he supposed that the dragon might have called in friends from far-off for his despicable deeds. The dragon himself, though, was something different. He was used to a slightly portly dragon, someone that had been softening from the adventurer’s life, someone that had been letting the settled life start to soak into how he presented himself and how fit he was. What stood before him now as a dragon that had muscles that most adventurers would envy, scales that were stiffer than most steel armor that he had seen, and… Well, the fact that he was naked probably shouldn’t have been a surprise. After all, even the two-legged dragons were part beast. They probably hated clothes at the best of times. The yellow-gold dragon stepped forward, leaving his little entourage – save for the Komodo Dragon – behind. Engy’s footsteps left sweaty footprints on the stone floor of the church, and the heat made sure that everyone continued to drip. The rank smell of hot musk and sweat filled the room, too, making it hard to focus on anything but the smell of men and masculinity. Malcolm rubbed his nose a number of times, trying to snort the smell out of his face, but it refused to leave. One of the priests stepped forward, holding the symbol of the church – a man standing with his arms and legs spread, forming a star – out in front of him. “You will leave this house, monster. You will return from whence you came, and – ah!” The dragon flapped his wings once, and the priest fell to his knees, gasping and grabbing himself by the crotch. Malcolm’s eyes went wide as the priest’s hair fell out all at once, blue scales starting to pop in where the hair had been. [i]Holy…[/i] The other priests gathered together, trying to chant some holy prayer. A shimmering semi-barrier popped up between them and the rest of the church, and Malcolm realized that he had a choice to make: he could either stay under the barrier, or he could take a risk and step outside of it, putting himself in danger but possibly being able to turn the dragon to his side. A glance outside showed that there was some power that Engy had managed to harness. It would not do him any good to fight against that, not if he wanted to come out of this alive, or in good stead. He could see which way the wind was blowing. So, he stepped forward, through the barrier. The alchemist blinked at him, and the mayor forced a smile despite the raw smell in the air. It was hotter than the worst of the summer days that he had been through in his many years in the fields, and he struggled to breathe through the humidity. Nevertheless, he forced the smile to stay on his face, just as he had done when he had been campaigning to get this office in the first place. “Engy. This is a most…unusual appearance for you.” “I’m here to make it stop.” “To make what stop? If you have a grievance, you could have petitioned me.” “Did. Too many times.” “I must have missed the paperwork,” he lied, shaking his head. “Come on, let’s go back to my office and you can fill it out with me.” “No.” “Engy, I understand you’re upset –” “No. You understand…you don’t understand. You don’t.” The dragon grabbed him, and the mayor realized that, despite the lack of shouting, Engy was angrier than he had ever seen the dragon before. Angrier than the day that he walked into the office with his arm half-broken, beaten from a bunch of teens that wanted to take their anger out on the foreigner. Angrier than the day when his house had almost burned down. Angrier and more hurt than the day when someone rolled a boulder down the mountain and it had broken one of his wings. He remembered seeing that anger and dodging it, being out of the office for the visit. He remembered the hurt, the anger, the…the everything that the dragon had shown then. He remembered all of that, and none of it compared to how Engy looked right then. The gold dragon looked like he was ready to rip Malcolm’s head off, and the mayor gulped. “Engy…” The Komodo Dragon stepped up beside the metal-armed alchemist, putting a hand on his arm. Malcolm took that moment to pull himself out of the dragon’s grip, rubbing his shoulder. It was bruised already, just from that one grab. “Fuck…” “Fuck?” Engy looked back. “Fuck? That’s all you can say?” “I…I know that you’re upset…” “You know nothing. You know what happened to me, and you didn’t do anything. You didn’t do a goddamn thing to help me.” “You were just one citizen. And you were bringing it on yourself.” “How?” “By…by…” By being a dragon? How was that bringing it on himself, the mayor suddenly wondered? Was that a thing? Was he bringing prosperity on himself by being a human? No. Was he bringing the good things to the town by being human? No. What the hell? Why did this make sense a few minutes ago, but now it didn’t? As he fumbled for an answer, Engy flapped his wings again. This time, Malcolm was right there to catch the brunt of it, and it knocked him right off his feet. He gasped, tumbling backwards, barely catching himself before he could crack his head on the floor, but that was all secondary to…to that scent… He felt floaty, like that time that one of his fields had caught fire and the herbs had burned in sweet smoke. He felt…he felt high, high on pleasure and power and…and who knew what else? All he knew was that it felt good, that his mind wasn’t entirely there, that he was enjoying the smell. Flap. Another blast of air, and heat, and his mind fell deeper, his body warming up with something besides the heat of the fiery path outside. He groaned under his breath, his head rolling backwards. Flap. Another breath, and that heady musk burned in him, going right between his legs. His toes curled in his boots as his robes suddenly bulged, his legs forced apart by a swelling that pushed them aside. Malcolm groaned, wobbling as he tried to lift his head again. He looked down at his crotch, and he saw the way that his legs were spreading around a growing ball bulge. Too high to care about modesty, he reached down, pulling his robes up to see what was happening. Balls paler than his sun-tanned hands were swelling, the hairs on them disappearing as they grew, as they swelled. Already, they were too big to hold in one hand, and he reached down with both to try and support them. It wasn’t enough, as each flap of the dragon’s wings made them swell more. He groaned under his breath, his air coming to him slowly, haltingly, struggling to keep up with the hot air that was all around him. Every time he breathed in, his balls swelled further, making them feel heavier, thicker, harder to ignore. “You kept running away from me…from your responsibility. You’re the mayor. The mayor. That means that you take care of people. I was one of your people, wasn’t I?” “You…” “Wasn’t I?!” “Yes…” “Then why…why didn’t you do anything?” “Because…” He couldn’t lie anymore. “Because you weren’t human. If I did anything, I’d stop being mayor. They’d kick me out. You could suffer it; it didn’t matter if you weren’t human…” He groaned, too drunk on his own pleasure to quite see the pain on the dragon’s face as he answered, too focused on the pleasure of his balls. He wanted to feel them again, and as he hefted them, he had to strain to work with their weight. They were so big that they were overflowing both hands now, almost falling to the floor, too big for him to lift easily. [i]How the hell am I going to walk with these?[/i] he wondered. Flap. Flap. Flap. Engy was flapping his wings faster and faster, and his balls grew with them. The entire church was awash with the smell of ball musk, of the smell of dragon cock, of the scent of pure domination. The world was warping around them, the pews going from straight benches to curved seats, seats that would force people to sit face to face rather than straight ahead. The floor burned beneath him, heating up beneath his ass and his balls, making him sweat. The candles that hung from the walls turned phallic, with oil for the flames held in big spheres beneath them. “You…ran…away…” Malcolm panted, but nodded. It was true. He had run away from his responsibilities as a mayor, and had left the dragon to face all the pain of an unleashed community without the protection of the office. “You ran away. You…No more running…No more!” “No running…” The smell was as hypnotic as it was arousing, and there was no way that he could ignore or argue with what the gold dragon was saying. Each breath burned the truth of the matter into his nose that much harder. “You will do…your fucking…job,” Engy said between flaps of his wings. “I will do…my job…” “No more running…” “No more running.” “Just make it safe.” “Make it…safe…” His balls continued to grow, pinning his hands under him, swelling out under his legs and then lifting them up as they kept growing. The Komodo dragon circled around the pews, moving to the mayor’s side to lift him up, and he realized that he was sitting on balls that were bigger than a couch. They were so big, so swollen, that they might as well have been a throne of flesh. It was embarrassing and hot at the same time. He was stripped of his robe, his humanity falling with it. His balls had already grown scaled, turned into something that didn’t belong on a human, and the scales continued to push around, moving up and over his body. His cheeks started swelling, growing rounder, wider, getting thicker and starting to droop slightly. [i]Iguana,[/i] popped into his head, and he realized that was probably what he was becoming. Thick, heavyset, with balls that would keep him from going anywhere unless there was someone to help him out. As the scales spread over him, he couldn’t help but keep thinking of the balls he was sitting on. His balls. He’d never imagined that they would be this big, never thought that they’d be so…so well-rounded, so heavy, so attention-grabbing. There was no way for him to not notice them, considering that he was using them for his own chair. The feeling of them churning was new, too. They were so big that it was impossible to miss it. If one imagined how it felt when one’s stomach rumbled, when it rolled and worked, but made every motion pleasurable, like one could feel a half-orgasm every time that they moved and rolled and made more cum, that was what it felt like. A constant motion with constant, lovely pleasure. He moaned, running his hands and even his feet over the bulging balls as his clothes continued to break down, feeling the way that everything rumbled and bubbled inside. He could feel the vibrations against the soles of his scaly feet, feeling them bubbling and rolling and even starting to bulge a bit more. The scales felt so tight, so taut, and he wondered if he would ever be in danger from this. If he was, he wasn’t sure that he could bring himself to entirely care. Maybe he’d need to have someone around to take care of his balls from now on, but other than that… Malcolm shivered as he ran his hands along those massive balls, feeling every twitch that they made. His cock looked so small compared to them, even as it rose to a full, pink eleven inches. There was no hiding it, admittedly, but compared to the massive orbs, it was like there was almost nothing there, like a tiny straw to suck out a lake. He rolled back, then forward, back, then forward, feeling the shifting weight of all that seed. The mayor knew that if he rolled too far back, he’d be buried beneath his own sack, unable to get out, unable to get free. The idea was sexy, and he was almost tempted to do it – [i]You will not run.[/i] And then he was brought back with a gasp, a reminder of the responsibilities that came from being mayor, that came with being…being like this… [i]I will not run.[/i] Malcolm came back to the moment, his breath still coming in huffs and puffs and pants, but at least he was able to focus on the world around him again rather than just his balls. He looked down at the dragon – No, not dragon. Looking at the alchemist now, he felt something else. A submission, an urge to…to give in. And so he did, bowing his head. “Master.” “Mayor. You will stay…mayor…” Engy said, almost as if he was fighting himself. “You’ll stay mayor, and you’ll take care of things. And do [i]better.[/i] Understand?” “I understand.” “Now, keep playing…If you do good, you’ll feel good. Remember that. Do good, feel good.” “Do good, feel good.” “Now, watch…” Malcolm had to wiggle a lot, the iguana’s forming tail helping him swivel about on his enormous sack as the dragon walked by him. The Komodo Dragon passed by, too, and the muscular man helped him get into a better position. Which he appreciated, once the show started. The priests still believed that their barrier would keep Engy from reaching them. They still thought that they had a chance to hold back the master. They were so very, very wrong, and now, they were going to pay. One wing flap, two, three, and the barrier started to crack. The master glared at it, pulling something from his pouches and drinking it. The gold dragon’s balls swelled still further, forcing him to stand slightly bow-legged, but he flapped his wings again, and – CRACK! The waves of fumes shattered the holy barrier, and the priests fell flat on their backs. Even from where he sat, Malcolm could see the haziness that filled their eyes, the hunger, the wonder that came with it. He smiled, rubbing his balls, ignoring his cock as he savored the sight of his master striding toward the altar. The priests were helpless against him, unable to resist as he approached. They stared at him in fear, then in awe as the scent of his sack brought them forward. Malcolm smiled at the sight of the master taking control, bowing his head. For the first time, he felt like there was a god. For the first time, he felt like there was someone powerful enough to deserve his worship, and merciful enough for what he had done to actually earn it. He lowered his head and whispered his prayers to the golden alchemist, whispering breaths of praise as he sucked in the scent that still filled the church. Little by little, the building started to change. He could feel it in the walls and in the earth around him, the stone curving, becoming less straight and more rounded. There were alcoves where the seats sunk in, almost as if by sitting there you were resting in a giant ballsack. The already-bent seats moved closer, where men would have to frot each other as they listened to sermons. And as the master ascended onto the altar, his balls rested on it, and the human idol cracked. It fell to the floor, shattered to pieces, the god refusing to change and breaking instead. The altar itself dented, giving in, sinking down in response to the power of the master’s balls. They marked the top of the altar, giving it the impression of a heavy pair of balls, and the scent of them spread over the side. Sweat, musk, cock, balls; the smell was everywhere, soaking the minds of everyone. And the priests, no longer garbed in silver but corrupted to the yellow-gold of their master, came forward. One by one, they knelt by the master’s sack, and they kissed it, licked it, worshiped it the way that they would have once done for the idol. Malcolm bowed his head, whispering once more his prayers to the Golden Alchemist, the god of Arrowdell. # Standing at the altar, Engy had never felt more powerful than he did right at that moment. Not in any adventure, not before any god, not with any magic item. Everything that he had done in the last hour felt like he had exceeded any of his prior feats. And considering that he had claimed a town for his own, he probably had. None of the other adventurers that he had been with had done anything like this, nor would they have been able to do it. They would have either rushed in and gotten their heads lopped off, or they would have tried a different type of magic that could have been cancelled out. Not him. Not the alchemist. [i]The Golden Achemist.[/i] He looked down at the various men that were shifting before him, all of them gradually turning from human to reptiles. These ones seemed to be becoming lizards, fairly standard ones, but they were so deep in worship that they didn’t seem to even notice what was happening to them. They were more focused on his balls than anything else. It was…so strange. He had been so angry, so very, very angry, and Joseph had to pull him back from completely obliterating the mayor’s mind when he realized that the human had been part of the whole problem. Nobody – nobody in power, at the very least – had cared about him. Only a few people like his hunter friend had bothered to be there for him, to commiserate and try and make things a little better. He’d wanted to take everything from the mayor, to render him to nothing, but Joseph had stopped him. Made him make the mayor useful instead. Useful, because he had a head for numbers…and if he could stop just thinking for himself, he could help the other people in Arrowdell. As the kisses on his balls gradually worked their way up, lips finding his cock, others going back down when there was no room, Engy looked up at the ceiling. He could still feel the dome of fire that could spark at any time. He had thrown that when he was angry, marking his territory the way that a feral dragon would have, claiming it and daring anyone to take it from him. It was his place, one of scales and claws, where flesh was not welcome. This was [i]his[/i], and now he had to make it good. [i]Because nobody else will…[/i] Even Joseph, the best of them, hadn’t done much to change anything. He hadn’t done anything else, even though he said he should have. He’d just been there to cheer him up some nights, to bring him gifts; he’d never done anything to stop what the people in town were doing to him. [i]I have to…[/i] If there was one thing that Engy had learned, it was that humans, that most anyone that wasn’t scaly, was probably going to be against him. They would see him, turn him away at best, or try and take him down at worst. If he didn’t take control, if he wasn’t the one in charge, then they would just keep doing it until one of them got lucky. [i]I have to be in charge…and I have to be…careful…[/i] Because Joseph had been right about one thing. He had almost gone too far. Almost. Hadn’t. But almost. [i]There’s no one to stop me. Not gods. Not man. Just…me…[/i] And there was so little of him left. He stroked the heads of the priests around him, hearing their prayers, and he smiled slightly. “Yes…worship me…worship the balls of your new god.” [b][u][center]The End[/center][/u][/b]