User:Azimuth/Examination no. 460

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This story contains adult content.
Page with a different name due to technical limitations surrounding the #, hash, pound sign, or scene break. 2005 era: you may notice. Written for a brief portfolio of work I was intending to use to try and auction story commissions to willing furries. Purposefully done as an example, to display that although I can write erotic fiction, I should be allowed to avoid doing so. Meanwhile I thought this was very silly, but people enjoyed it anyway! In this, Riley and a rock become good friends, and an ancient, powerful, vaguely-draconic eldritch force does what any consenting adult would do after being trapped for a zillion years. Well, kinda...


Examination #460

Author: Azimuth

About all that could be heard in the museum's office area at such a late hour was the ticking of the clock, a large and stately affair with a gold pendulum that didn't move and didn't actually need to. This was bad, knew Riley, because it meant that he wasn't hearing the sound of his own tapping on the computer's keyboard and, if he wasn't doing that, it meant he was getting closer and closer to his report's deadline and he wasn't writing any of it down. Naturally, if he didn't have to do any of his report, he wouldn't have decided to shut himself in his research area until way past the hours when even the curators have gone home, off to better things than wasting time, thinking about nonsense - until he realised that's what he was doing anyway. At that realisation, he stood up, gave a great sigh, and slid his chair back under the table with a screech. He needed a walk, and he had the quietest place ever to do it in, all to himself. That made him smile, actually.

He pulled at the door-latch and wandered out, torch with him because he didn't have the keys to get to the main lights circuit in the basement, nor did he fancy walking all that way. Kinda eerie, he thought, but he had his light source and so he didn't care much about it.

The place was indeed as mute as he had suspected, which was pretty standard: large rooms even in the back, no people, and no neighbours. Even if there were neighbours they'd be the sort that wouldn't be here at this hour, which meant peace, quiet, solace, and such. In fact, he could die in here and nobody would notice for at least two days; it was the start of the weekend, after all, and nobody but him had anything that would press them into overtime. Yes. He shivered and sighed. Beyond all that, it was boring as hell.

His torch found a statue in the darkness of the adjacent room, and Riley felt the need to stop in front of it. This was his report's focus, really; a strange, three foot object constructed of stone and clay. It was unclear what it was meant to be, but he did remember when it arrived: he was on hand, actually, and it hadn't been much longer than a fortnight...

A crate had come in, labelled from their digging team out in the middle of Africa somewhere; the source wasn't his business, but what was strange about it was that nothing had been sent with it to explain what it was or when they'd pulled it out or even where it was from. This was strange, and unhelpful, since it made his job harder.

Riley had been looking for a bit of extra money so he could finally throw off the shackles of work and country for a week or so and go visit family in Oz. Nice sun, nicer people, and strange coloured accents had all been part of his decision to study this unknown thing -- and he really didn't have any more news for them, which was bad, since he'd asked for a few more days to get the last bits finished and he'd not even started the 'last bits', it was just a bluff. Sigh. He leaned over the object and stared it in the whatever, trying to find another answer or so. This was his second night and he'd been doing this a lot more than he'd let on.

"Look at this, I'm willing a rock to tell me its life history." he said, nonchalantly, breaking the veil of silence over the room. Smile.

He decided he'd give it its 460th examination today, right now, planting both hands on the table beside it and leaning close. "Don't worry mister rock, I'll be back soon." nodding and heading towards the sink area, pulling some disposable forensic gloves from a box near it and slipping them on before heading back over, removing his work jacket, and rolling up his sleeves. Riley had, though it wasn't obvious to him at this point, forgotten to put a lid on a large, mostly empty bottle of port he had in his office. This made the room smell faintly of wine turning into vinegar, and probably explained why he was talking to rocks in the early hours of a Saturday morning.

Still, he knew that he was steady as the rock he had now picked up, holding it gingerly and wandering off to the fridge, not because he felt like a snack, but because that was their pet name for the museum cold room, a nice neutral and somewhat chilly atmosphere where one was supposed to examine things like statues, relics, trinkets, and pointless bits of stone (like his!) without the risk that came from a more normal environment. Course, to avoid getting wet and cold feet, he put on wellingtons before opening the big steel door with a push of his nose on a button, smirking and watching the thing slowly open, fsssh of escaping cold air, ominous white dry-ice-like smoke. Looked like something from out of sci-fi, which thrilled Riley to bits.

The other 459 examinations had all been like this, really: Riley had to admit he was a little tipsy, but he'd done this spiel so many times that he might even have done it a few more times in his sleep and not realised, The rock seemed to change a bit when he wasn't looking, so he hadn't ruled it out. The cold room invited him and he wandered in, ignoring the thin heat jackets for now because the cold would wake him up a bit: he was feeling like yawning a little when he'd stood up, and he knew there was absolutely nothing of further interest to find of this blasted bit of stone. Still, he was doing this to give him yet a little more to write about, so he wasn't ready for anything surprising. In fact, the only surprise he got was when his foot encountered something in the way just beneath the layers of white smoke, his other foot gave way on that useless rubber sole, and he slipped over with a shout of alarm, the statue being given its first taste of flight while Riley fell over.

Unfortunately, the young researcher knew precisely how brittle his current study was, looking back up just in time to miss its landing. The pieces were visible though, and he did swear quite loudly, and it echoed around as though the walls were swearing at his clumsiness. His boss would also do the same on Monday. He sighed. Still, at least he didn't have a report to do any more. However, the cold whiteness of the floor started to spread away from the area of impact as a wind began to blow, getting quite strong in a manner of seconds, as smoke billowed up from the ground and spun around, and Riley just watched, quite confused. Now his hair was messed up too. Wah. It wasn't his day.

He heard a noise like a great rumble, which startled him: it wasn't quiet, nor was it his, nor was it pleasant sounding, and it really made him wish he had been to the bathroom before doing this. It settled down, seeming to enunciate into speech:

"You have freed me, mortal."

Being well versed in B movies, Riley knew that this was two things precisely: incredibly corny, and incredibly bad for him.

"In gratitude I shall set you above your peers, and put you at my right hand side. Remain kneeled, and receive your blessing," continued the voice. The smoke seemed to be coalescing slightly, although he could feel eyes upon him already, watching him, directed at him. Up to this point, he could have happily subscribed to the belief he was drunk.. but that was changed after white trails from the smoke flew at him, gripping strongly about his wrists and pulling them aside, suspending him in the air: another two gripped his feet, and instinctively Riley wriggled against it, though it was quite impossible to even begin to move his limbs. He could even see the imprints in the rubber boots pushed against his shin: it didn't hurt, but it was firm. His movie history again suggested this was even worse than really bad. But, he had two things in his favour: he wasn't female, and it didn't have tentacles.

The gloves on his hands started to feel very warm, before they actually almost felt like his hands were burning, and he shouted and wriggled at his arms uselessly, turning his head up to watch them. They were standard, white latex, and they seemed to be smoothing out over his hands.. before sharp jolts formed in his fingers and he watched as both whole hands grew, the fingers stretching and becoming misshapen, pointed at their tips, four forward and the thumb twisting and facing back as the stretchy material sunk into his skin proper. His feet started to feel warm as well, which prompted him to look down.

Held either side, his footwear was actually imploding, the rubber being pulled back up against his skin, clinging to his feet and holding them tightly, the sole and the rounded shape of the rubber boots progressively thinning, before he could see the shape of his toes, the yellow material pressing against him strangely, from boot to halfway up the shin. Then, the toes themselves bulged and the feet wiggled and got larger, the instep stretching while the toes bulged and spread out, two outer toes falling together and resulting in four large, smooth claws, menacing while actually not very sharp at all, pointed and tapered at the ends of his feet. Slightly overcome, he looked back to the whatever-it-was.

"What're you doing?! This is a blessing? I'm nobody, I- I didn't ask for this!" he spoke, jabbering on, because he really needed to say something.

The only response he was given was the feeling of rubber and latex swirling around his limbs, flowing up and along his legs and arms and then around his torso, constricting him. Eventually the two streams met at his mouth and warmed up his nose, forming into a smooth muzzle suspended a little ahead of his face, and then stretching over his nose and mouth, rubber flowing around his head and hair to keep it in place. Riley muffled a shout as his face was dragged forward to sit snugly up to the covering material, his sight disappearing as his eyes were covered by yellow and white, and so he had to just feel, while his entire form was slowly moulded around by the 'living' substances, busying themselves in claiming every square inch of his human form.

As they did so, he felt a certain sense of detachment, as his senses stopped picking anything up except for the smell of rubber, the sound of nothing, and the feel of it all over, completely ignoring his garments which had probably perished in the heat or something. Not long later, his eyes opened again without him trying: his sight had returned, and the feeling of movement was replaced by something sliding its way into him, through him from the skin down, bathing his insides in the warmth that had gone around his outside earlier. His legs were getting thicker, more suited to those large feet he had, quite powerful they felt to him, even while trapped in this grip and this 'cocoon'. Something poked its way out of his head on either side, and he could again hear!

The same seemed to be happening with his hands.. well, whatever kind of hands they were: white and stretchy with tracks of yellow beginning at the wrists. He even didn't feel as restrained any more, feeling the air on himself as though he had a second skin.. which when the pressure of the creature's grip returned to his limbs, he could see they were: his body was actively squashing under it. He bit his tongue, since he could again move his mouth, and it squished as well. The shock stripped anything he might have wanted to say just at that point, really.

Something grabbed the bottom of his spine and dragged it out, he leaning his head forward and shaking his head in contempt, before he felt himself moving his spine there, although he realised when he moved it and saw the tip barely appearing in his sight that this was a tail, and he wasn't even close to looking human any more. Well, that and being able to see his bright yellow muzzle right in front of his eyes. Kind of a giveaway.

Riley pulled at the bonds a bit while the force again pulled, this time at the back of his shoulders. Something actually connected with him there: he knew what those were, what his limbs were, what he now was - if a damn sight smoother and somewhat less 'alive'. While his wings were moulded into shape properly, and left to flop against his back, the hold on his limbs was quelled and the once-researcher was dropped to the floor, where he landed with a dull thud, the sort of thud only manageable by the two-feet drop of a shiny, supple, yellow and white, rubber-latex dragon. Impossible, thought he, but he could see, he could feel: he wasn't going to deny the basics. He also realised he'd never be able to explain this to his boss.

"Stand and be recognised as a dragon." announced the voice, while Riley shook a bit and dragged himself to his feet. They sagged a little on his weight, but that felt quite natural, and he quite able to bounce if he wished. Extending the wings tentatively, just to see what that felt like: the breeze blew right across their smooth sides like they weren't there.

".. woah. But um, um.. .. who are you anyway?"

The main question here, at least to him. He already knew that he was stuck like he was, purely from the aura this creature put out.

"I am myself. I am from long ago, when the mortal races were much newer. I have been sealed away for a very long time, even by my standard of time."

"So what do you want now that you're back?" wondered the smooth dragon. He was answered;

"Just to be free. I was used as a source of power while trapped, but I am not vengeful, and such mortals have long died. I must take a form again soon, it has been so long since mine was taken from me." he explained, carefully, as Riley spent more time examining himself, poking and prodding idly, though he was indeed listening.

"That is what you will do." it said, concisely, the mass of smoke drifting towards and enveloping the unsuspecting rubber-dragon, who looked up in surprise. "Eh?" and promptly shivered as something grabbed him and pulled at him, prying open his mouth, holding up his tail. Riley somehow knew that even as he'd lost mortality, no lunch was ever quite that free in reality, and he squirmed once more.

Then, the smoke started to flow into him, and the dragon could feel his actual movement diminishing, motor controls seeming beyond him but instead at the whims of this creature that he was absorbing, his own rubber arms twitching slightly and then their claws flexing, quite naturally, as he began to move without wanting to. Instinct told him to fight it, but actually he was being soothed: even as the creature took his body for itself, it wasn't being evil. Sure, it was putting himself above Riley, but why not; it would live forever and had unearthly powers. Nonetheless, even as it told him these things in thought, Riley felt naturally like he'd been given the hard end of the stick.

"I'm sorry. But I shall try and make it up to you." it thought back to him, stretching slightly as Riley's mind sat somewhere in free space, feeling but not acting.

The dragon sat down and then; "Feel." and ran his smoothened paw along his own belly. Riley wasn't expecting much, but if he could have he would have sat up straight and gasped at the sensitivity. It was being augmented, just for him, it made even the deific dragon shiver and shake a bit. Riley thought for not a very long time at all before he realised quite what was planned: something to make the Greek myths proud and ashamed at the same time. Something for him indeed? Without pause the dragon's paw slipped down between his legs and started to rub at himself. Riley was lucky not to have his own eyes just then, else they'd have popped out of his skull.

"Wait, you're not going to.."

The dragon pawed between its legs without care for Riley's tolerance, rubbing away and leaning back a bit, teasing at the edge of a fold of rubber that the once-human hadn't noticed was there before. Still, he could damn well feel what it was for, murmuring and being led on, unable to actually move himself at all as something poked out of the rubber sheath and instantly set upon by a single paw-finger. At least Riley was being allowed to forget about his troubles.

He sat, he felt, and he watched through the dragon's eyes while it gingerly played with its own tip, pulling a bit at the shaft as it slid out. The dragon gave a gag and let his tongue hang out; Riley felt kind of pervy really, but he wasn't even going to think about lying and saying he felt bad.

Eventually the dragon squeezed himself, moving the paw up and down, so Riley could feel that not a lot had changed for some things in the great expanse of history that this particular creature had existed through. He worked himself somewhat, licking the tip of his nose and shivering needfully. It finally occurred to Riley that if the smoke creature had been sat in that stone for a very long time, it would have been rather a long time since it had done this. The only reply the deity could come up with was to say "Not to be puerile, but the idea that mortals should enjoy procreation was based on the gods that came before." That kept him quiet.

It got faster and faster, the squeezing of the smooth rubber and its squirking against itself caused warmth, while the dragon fell on its back, turned to one side, squeezing its yellow rubbery self and pawing back and forth and back and forth again. It shook about, and Riley had stopped bothering to think independently any more, just slipping into what the dragon was thinking. It snorted rhythmically and stared ahead, tense and clinging to itself, the other hand fishing around its own tail-base absently; it was seeking a needful release.

It came, after a few minutes more, Riley far into it by then, a loud and guttural growl sounding as the dragon bucked once and then curled up, a stream of liquid rubber falling onto the floor beside it and being pumped into as it worked its way down, letting the once-human realise where he was and who he was and do the mental equivalent of a double take. If he wasn't feeling great when he began, he was certainly much better now. Not a word from him.

While Riley was getting reoriented, the dragon sat up and touched its rubber effluence. He quickly recovered, feeling it doing something and then, all his feeling disappeared, and he stopped being able to see. This was more than mildly frightening, but he waited, nowhere in space.

Meanwhile, knowingly, the deific dragon watched as a muzzle started to form out of the loose rubber that had been ejected just a few minutes ago, followed by the rest of a head. Two paws, followed by a torso. The dragon it was making now wouldn't be upright, like he was. Riley did notice he was regaining feeling in his mouth, and spoke.

".. what're you doing now?.." his eyes not yet opened.

"Something for you, like I said." it replied, smiling and pulling out a tail, as the rest of the rubber was pulled into newly forming hindpaws, leaving a lil' dragon no longer than half an arm, poking his head around in confusion, and sniffing scents through a rubber nose.

The taller dragon was quite pleased with that result, and already quite sure that Riley would have rather a lot of questions when his eyes reopened. It seemed to it that this once-human might actually be good company, which was something he hadn't noticed he'd been missing until that point. Perhaps this would be one of its better ideas after all.


When the destroyed statue was found on Monday, the boss had indeed gone looking for Riley. Couldn't find him, though: nobody had seen him, his time-clock hadn't been stamped out, and the only things he'd left in the office that were at all unusual was the bottle of port turned vinegar, which woulda got him fired if he was ever seen again, and the last lines of his work report, unfinished, which just read 'on holiday, be back later'."