Dragon Breeder 3 by Dante King (motivational books for students txt) 📗

I felt the most intense rush of carnal gratification as my seed poured into her, an overwhelming, gushing tide of warmth that pumped until I was empty.

Looking through eyelids that I could barely keep open, I saw a bright orange flash of light in her lower abdomen that became an intense glow emanating from Tamsin’s pussy.

“Is that… is that what I think it is?” the hobgoblin panted, her breath coming in short gasps as the supernova of our joint orgasm faded.

I nodded. “Yeah, I think it does. You’re carrying a dragonling now.”

About five minutes later, I led the elated Tamsin out of the tent. We were looking quite a bit more disheveled than when we went in, but I imagined General Shiloh wouldn’t take umbrage at us being a little slovenly in our appearance. After all, I had been doing her bidding, hadn’t I? Now all I had to do was get my sword belt properly fastened, head over to the General's quarters, and give her the good news in private.

As I pulled back the tent flap, Tamsin and I were met with a booming roar of noise. Soldiers were gathered all around our tent, as were my dragonmancer colleagues. My mouth dropped open. I felt like I was part of one of those olden day weddings where everyone gets drunk and then cheers the bride and groom off to their bedroom where they are meant to consummate their marriage. Only, this was in reverse.

I looked at the General, who was standing in the front row. The bullish woman clapped a couple of times along with the rest.

She inclined her auburn head at me. “I see you are certainly not one to rest on your laurels, Dragonmancer Noctis.”

“Yeah, I’m not one to beat around the bush,” I replied. Then I added, “Not unless it’s an order, General.”

The crowd roared with approval and laughter. General Shiloh almost lost control of that sternly imperious face of hers.

“Good!” she said. “That’s what I need in a dragonmancer.” She switched her gaze to Tamsin who had her hands clasped over her stomach. Then, gazing about at the gathered soldiery she boomed, “Now, it’s time to prepare for the coming of this dragonling in true Mystocean fashion!”

Chapter 18

The knowledge that the army town surrounding the base of Galipolas Mountain, and one of the entrances to the Subterranean Realms, was to potentially play host to a dragon birth was greeted with great delight by the inhabitants.

Not having been born and raised in the Mystocean Empire, I was more detached from the novelty and inconceivable import of a new dragon being birthed. Add this to the fact that I was the very catalyst for the celebration.

Excited chattering ran through the place that I was more and more starting to think of as Dodge City. Hardened soldiers were turned suddenly into feverish washerwomen. Gossip passed from ear to ear. Speculation was rife as to what sort of dragon I, the Dragon Breeder, had knocked up with the fearsome hobgoblin dragonmancer.

The battle in the Subterranean Realms against the ratfolk and, in particular, the wild dragon had been deemed classified by General Shiloh and the rest of the brass. This, of course, meant that every single trooper in the camp knew what had happened. Somehow, even word of what had happened down the tunnel, in the ratfolk’s settlement, had made it into general circulation in Dodge City.

The rumors and tangled stories, the conclusions drawn about ratfolk that conducted bizarre rituals in honor of wild dragons, and the presence of bearmancers running about in profusion in the Subterranean Realms were not so far from the truth as soldier’s gossip usually is.

A few days after Tamsin and I had tested the dragondust, and I had successfully impregnated the hobgoblin, preparations for a large celebration were in full flight. Those who had not been present during General Shiloh’s announcement were uncertain who had given the order for the designated merrymaking. Some of the Empire’s warriors guessed that the order had come down from General Shiloh herself, while others were more inclined to believe that Old Sleazy had got the ball rolling.

Old Sleazy was an individual that could smell an opportunity to profit from a mile away. A military victory, combined with the unprecedented revelation that there were still wild dragons in the bowels of the earth and a dragonmancer pregnancy… Well, if a gnoll couldn’t wring a scale or two out of that sort of excitement then was he even a gnoll?

I was quite willing to bet that General Shiloh had not expressly organized the celebrations, which looked like they were fast taking on Mardi Gras proportions. However, the head of this outpost was a woman who knew which way the wind was blowing. She would be quite aware that putting a stop to the celebrations would have a detrimental effect on the camp’s morale. Better to keep a close eye on things and let the men and women of the Galipolas Mountain battalion have their fun. I imagined that a bit of carousing and a lot of hangovers were a fair trade for asking the troopers to give their lives if required.

The military was still busy clearing out the depths of the mountain, so until the area was safe, most of us were all on standby.

I spent the days wandering around the encampment, exploring the various stalls and grog shops, and generally enjoying a little downtime. I walked through the bustling, muddy streets with their sidewalks of hastily constructed timber planking, passing by groups of off-duty soldiers dicing or playing hands of Maim Mr. Turnip. There was a great deal of singing and story-swapping in the rough taverns, soldiers fought good-naturedly in the street, and men and women labored to erect scores of booths, stages, and carts.

Four days after