Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 52915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 265(@200wpm)___ 212(@250wpm)___ 176(@300wpm)
His cock slides forward to find the molten core of me, the tight virginal hole protected by a laughable scrap of tissue that will not do anything to stop him from entering me over and over.
“Breathe,” he reminds me again, his concern for me so evident in his voice but lacking in the lewd and vulnerable position he has trapped me in. I am very much captive as the dragon spreads my thighs with large claws, opening my body to him. The sight of the huge scaled rod pressing against the soft dark down of my sex is absolutely perverse. It seems certain he will not be able to fit inside me, that I will never be able to stretch wide enough to take him.
But I do not have a choice. I am a virgin, and the purpose of a virgin in the arms of a dragon is to be deflowered. And so he surges forward, and the strange yet perfectly made cock of the alien dragon king parts my outer lips, and my inner lips, rends the soft tissue of virginity and begins to spread me wider and deeper than I ever thought possible.
As my body is transformed by becoming the possession of this terrible alien monster, my inner self stretching for him, an emptiness I did not know I had becoming filled….
I was so innocent not so long ago…
Not so long ago…
“Once upon a time…”
It’s 7:55 pm on a Tuesday night, and if I can get little Chip Taunton to sleep before 8, I will still have an hour to work on my philosophy term paper. I never thought when I started babysitting when I was twelve that I’d still be doing it a decade later, but inflation has made this a great gig. I’m putting myself through college by having absolutely no nightlife whatsoever. It’s worth it, though on nights like these it does start to grate.
“Long, long ago, a far-king long way away, lived a far-king alien,” I say in a vain yet valiant attempt to not go entirely mad.
“That’s not how the story goes,” Chip complains. He has brown hair, buck teeth that’ll be fixed with braces soon enough, and an intense brown stare. Chip misses absolutely nothing. He’s wearing his race car pajamas, because that’s what he wears on Tuesday nights. He had his chocolate milk before bed, and then he brushed his teeth because as gross as that is, that’s how he likes it. Chip likes his routines, and woe betide the babysitter who fails to follow them.
“It’s not? I feel like it is, though.”
Chip recites from memory. “A long, long time ago, far far away, lived a king.” He gives me a disgruntled stare. “He wasn’t an alien.”
“Oh. Well, in this version of the story, he’s a far-king alien.”
Chip screws up his face, because like all children, he wants to hear the same story over and over again until you want to gouge your far-king eyes out.
“Just listen,” I tell him. “This is a better story.”
“Does it have a princess?”
“What? I guess.”
“I don’t like girls.”
“Okay, it doesn’t have a princess.”
Chip’s eyes bulge with outrage. “I said I don’t like girls! I like princesses!”
“Alright, well, that’s going to be something you have to work through one day, but for now, let’s just say there’s a princess, but the far-king alien has to find her.”
Chip considers that for a moment. “Aliens are cool.”
“Yes. They are,” I agree.
“Can the alien be green? He should be green.”
“Yes. The alien king is green.”
“Does he have to slay a dragon to get the princess?”
“That’s a little derivative.”
Chip pouts, and I know I am about to get a lecture about how all good stories have dragons.
“Okay, fine. He has to slay a dragon. Can I start telling the story now?”
Chip nods, and I begin again.
“Once upon a time…”
It’s one in the morning before I get to leave the Taunton household. Mr Taunton apologizes profusely for being back so late from work. His collar has lipstick on it. Mrs Taunton is in the Seychelles on a conference. So. Doing the math on that, poor Chip has more to contend with than aliens and dragons. I now have seven hours to finish my term paper.
It’s a hazy kind of night and haze does weird things. It makes car headlights look twice as large as usual, and it makes streetlights gleam like orbs. I draw my coat tighter around myself even though it’s not really cold out. There’s a strangeness in the air, a sort of fairytale fatedness. I spent a long time telling Chip the tale of the alien king without his queen. There were a lot of questions, and even more objections, and he did not get to sleep by eight o’clock.
He didn’t get to sleep by nine o’clock, either. I thought he was asleep at ten, but I heard the microwave bell go off and found him making popcorn. I told him to go back to bed, and he told me that he thought it must be very sad for a king not to have a princess, but even sadder for a princess not to have a king, and did I have a person I would marry. I told him no and took the popcorn. By eleven o’clock, I was asleep, and then by one, I was woken by surreptitious whispering and kissing at the front door, by a man who had the absolute nerve to have his side piece drop him home.