Wow! At just beneath five thousand words, this is my longest story to date (March 15th, 2013). I hope it's my best as well, but that's for you to be the judge! I sure love reviews, even if they're somewhat negative. So, go ahead; I like to be reminded that I have actual readers. n.n'
Before Ryga, I always felt as if I had been stuck in the shadow of the wings. It wasn't until he pushed me that I ever left the wings' shadow and stepped out onto the stage. When was that? Literally speaking, it hasn't happened yet; I'm backstage in the school auditorium, though, with a couple of hours before showtime. Figuratively speaking, I've been steadily creeping out of the shadow since around a year-and-a-half ago, just before the beginning of my sophomore year of high school.
As the student director of this play, Jessica, had to teach me, "Listen close, Chad," - Chad is my name - "The 'wings' are the curtains on either side of the stage that extend out a little bit, but don't really cover much. Usually, an actor about to make an entrance waits behind the wings, but make sure to stay where you can't be seen until the right time; if you can see the audience, they can see you. When the stage lights are on, if you stand in the shadow of the wings, you should be completely invisible."
I suppose it could be said that Ryga convinced me to step out of the shadow, but it's more like he swooped down, picked me up, and dropped me onto the stage. Before him, I was the kid whom you know you'd seen before, but you can't figure out who he was, what his voice sounded like, or where you had seen him. I used to like it that way, though; people scared me. Heck, they still do. I'm getting better with that, though, even though I'm human myself.
It's all thanks to Ryga. As hard as it may be to believe, I'm less scared of a fire-breathing, flying reptile of ultimate destructive capabilities of one-and-a-half times my height than my own kind. Crazy, right? Well, the thing is we've known each other since I was in the crib. I don't really know his background story; he's been living in my house for longer than me, though as a Charmeleon through my younger years.
He's been kind of like a big brother to me. One huge thing I appreciate is that he understands me and accepts me for who I am, a rare quality among us homo sapiens. He knows I'd love to speak once in a while but am simply too shy and timid for such to happen. I don't need to be told that it's irrational; I know, and I'm working on it. Getting into drama has been a huge help for that, I think. But Ryga just gets me. He's always been a scaly shoulder to cry on, a pair of strong arms to be hugged by, and a flame-tipped tail to keep me warm on those cold northern winter nights as well as shield me from the abyss of darkness before I ended up growing out of that fear. Good thing, too, because it's dark backstage.
My ninth birthday, now, is when something really significant came to pass. I had just sat down at the kitchen table, Dad had just placed the ornate cake in front of me, and Ryga, a Charmeleon at the time, had subsequently deftly swept his tail over all nine candle wicks and ignited the world's tastiest chocolate cake of all time. All three stood around me, Ryga to the left, Dad to the right, and Mom right behind me. "Blow 'em out, bud!" encouraged Ryga just after nudging my arm with his elbow. That grin he was wearing seemed so sincere, and it's brightness could have lit up the dark well enough to be the envy of his tailflame.
I huffed, and I puffed, and I blew those candles out. Mom clapped. Dad pat me on the back. Ryga was the most enthusiastic of the bunch, quite literally tackling me to the ground, chair and all, in a slightly overzealous birthday hug. Ugh, my head hurts just recalling it. My parents screamed in shock initially, but when I embraced Ryga in return, they laughed, a bright flash indicating that our picture had been taken. As my parents laughed, so did Ryga and I.
Ryga had and has always sported an above-human body temperature, but following the next moment and intense heat consumed my body all over. As well, more light even brighter than the camera and not disappearing after a microsecond forced my eyelids shut. The heat was so intense, like sitting by a campfire but sitting a bit too close. Ryga says my parents freaked out and tried to pry him off of me, but by that point he was too heavy to move. My eyes were squeezed shut the whole time until the head aborted its quest to roast me like a marshmallow. I still didn't part my eyelids instantly, though.
Something poked my left eyelid after all had passed, and I was no longer under the pressure of Ryga's weight for some odd reason. It came to be that the reason was illuminated when that which had prodded my eyelid tentatively lifted it up. My having eyes having been clamped, my vision was a little blurry until I relaxed and let the claw no longer need to be pulling my eyes open. Another pair of eyes met mine.
That pair was such a lucid blue that they gave the impression of staring into the clearest, deepest ocean the mind can comprehend. Their host body was kneeling beside me but was not that of a Charmeleon. You get the point, right? Ryga had evolved. The next thing I remember from that little mini-party was me riding on Ryga's shoulders with a fist in the air before my father followed to have us declare, "Evolution!" for another picture
For a decent couple of months after my ninth, though, we had a problem regarding beds. As in, Ryga no longer fit in his. Something we intended to be a temporary measure was having Ryga take the carpet floor of my bedroom with a king-sized comforter thrown over him. He never complained, though, and I never felt the need to; after all, in my head, he was my big brother.
Whenever I felt like I needed something, I ran to my big bro for help. Homework? You wouldn't believe how skilled Ryga is with any sort of math. Not bad for having obviously never stepped inside a school himself. Heck, I credit him with my current C in Algebra II right now. Having been no older than nine, I sometimes needed a little playmate, shoes that Ryga always seemed content to fill.
A couple of months after that memorable birthday, I comfortingly found that he was a superior nightmare-chaser-away(er?). I don't even remember what I was dreaming about, but it must have been bad, because I woke up shivering and on the floor. Those abyssal azure eyes met mine following mine's opening.
I quickly averted them, though, in a sort of submissive, respectful gesture. At that point I never spoke, so it was the closest thing I was capable of giving to an apology, breathing hard from some lingering fear of the dream and hugging myself. Ryga isn't the 'go away you little squirt' big brother, though. He lifted up the blanket, beckoned me over, and invited with a whisper, "Come on, Chad. come here." One strong tug later, I ended up being cuddled comfortingly as if I was a teddy Beartic, his scaly chest eventually turning out to be what I found to be the best pillow in the absence of a real one. He looked down on me for a few minutes by craning his neck before returning to slumber, I soon after.
From that night on, it seemed I frequently experienced bad dreams when I slept in my bed. Not always, but enough to definitely make me uncomfortable. That was okay, though; it just meant I had to avoid sleeping there. It wasn't my idea at first; the following nights, the same thing kept happening over and over until it ended up being that my bed may as well have been replaced by a block of cement with equal dimensions. After a while, it just ended up becoming a permanent arrangement, a tacit agreement that Ryga and I slept on the floor together.
It's really no exaggeration to say that Ryga is the best friend I've ever had. Despite my muteness, I did seem to manage making a couple of acquaintances since I'm such a good listener, but Ryga was and is my friend.
Over the past year, though, that's changed a bit, and I say Ryga has gotten me where I am now, I think. Hey, I'm getting set to perform in my first leading role. That's something right? Since I hear chatter out in the seats, the audience must be arriving. Ryga has promised me he'd be there, adding excitement to counter my nerves. He's never broken a promise to me yet, after all.
Ah, yeah, that brings me back to last year, when he made me the most sacred promise possible. Summer was nearly over, and I was worried about my sophomore year of high school, freshman year not having treated me so greatly. Still, just the previous year, two years back from today that would be, Ryga had been a huge help with a couple of issues that had arisen. In other words, he caught my on my laptop looking at things I used to be sure nobody would approve of.
But I, surprisingly, misjudged by brother. Ryga totally understood. "It's natural," he told me with a shrug after letting me put some pants on, "It happens to Pokemon, too. When we get into that pubescent period and afterwards, it's just the sort of urge that's hard to resist." At the same time, though, I held my head down in shame while he had a paw resting on my back. "And since Pokemon are every bit as sentient as humans, what is there to be ashamed of there?" Yet I did not rise; if the 'but' hadn't been brought up yet, it was sure to be soon. "And who am I to tell you which sex you have to or even can be attracted to?" Well, as can be imagined, I had no way of seeing any that coming. I'm ashamed to admit having been a bit fearful when the scary-looking, fire-breathing, sharp-toothed, long-clawed, beastly dragon reached out with those claws of his at me, for, I needed not be, it seems. What he did with them was comfortingly stroke my cheek with a touch to rival the gentleness and care that a mother Kangaskhan would show her young. "Hey," he told me in a hushed tone, "it's okay." How could I have known how okay it was, though? Well, the answer is that I could have waited until that night, but right now that sort of time isn't available to me. I'm on in ten, after all.
I have to admit that Ryga definitely did it right. Considering the circumstances, I wouldn't be shocked to find that my parents gave him some advice or tips. Boy, was I surprised to find that they were in on the event. Being such devout Arceans, it still seems crazy, though I'm happy about it.
What Ryga did that night was lead me by the hand behind the house with the claim that he had a surprise for me. As it turned out, he did. It must have been a perfectly comfortable 65 degrees fahrenheit/18.3 degrees celsius outside. So late at night, the wide, full moon accompanied by its ensemble of variously sized and lustrous stars set the mood pretty darn well. I was pulled relatively hard but tolerably so into the deep woods just beyond the boundary of the backyard. Something around fifteen seconds in, Ryga quit walking, released my sweaty hand, and spinned around towards me.
"It's a lovely night," commented Ryga, which might have seemed like an offhand remark if a pair of cerulean drills weren't penetrating my very essence while those four simple words were uttered. I did nod, though, having to agree wholeheartedly. In such darkness, Ryga's tail provided the only dim light. Since the flame was behind him, I was standing in the shadow of his spread wings. I was a bit confused, having not expected to have been extracted from my bedroom to discuss the night.
Even brighter than Ryga's roaring fire was the smile he followed to shoot in my direction. It showed no teeth, but wasn't quite a smirk. It was like the expression one wears after having seen a really good movie. Ryga continues, "But beside you, even the Mona Lisa herself shies away in shame." Okay, what? "And yet, it is she who is celebrated while the sweet treat that is you is concealed in shadows." Yeah. Try to imagine my shocked my reaction... but bear in mind it was a pleasant shock.
Ryga's follow-up was to grasp my shoulders and step closer. Much closer. "You're a song I don't want to stop listening to, a Poochyena I want to pick up and hold, never putting you down." Something along the lines of impossible was what was going through my head; the possible implications of this speech were few, and all eventually led to the same place. "Though it's inconsequential in your company, the stars are bright and smiling down upon us tonight. I wish to have your smile to fuel my fire." Shoulder-grasping turned into a full-on bear - or dragon - hug. I don't think I could have wiggled out of that even if I'd tried.
"Human suitors often seek the matron and sire's blessing, I understand. Yours have given theirs." Okay, that was when I started feeling as if I could no longer think clearly, as if my head was filled with water and not my brain. 'Suitor?' It doesn't get much more obvious than that. "Chad, I seek you to be my lifelong made." Though it was music to my ears, and I saw it coming from a small way off, I wasn't just thrown for a loop; I was thrown for the entire roller coaster ride. Even I don't know all that which passed within the confines of my mind, so I won't bother trying to recall it. Back to the roller coaster ride.
It was a short ride.
With extreme eagerness it was that I sprang upward and forward, embracing the big guy around the base of the neck. Heck, I almost shouted, "Yes!" Almost. Almost was good enough for Ryga, though; he got the message. Around my hands, I could feel the deep rumble that was a content and perhaps somewhat amused chuckle. I think his body temperature might have gone up a bit, too.
While squeezing me tightly, Ryga arched his neck and firmly nuzzled my left cheek. His breath was hot and strongly pushing against my skin even if his nose itself was gentle on the level of the down comforter we yet sleep beneath. Such a creature almost looks like too much of a brute for such caring and consideration, but that's Ryga for you. The way he held me made me feel almost trapped, but there are definitely worse fates and places than being stuck in Ryga's loving embrace.
His following spontaneous kiss on the forehead was a real pleasant surprise as well. As shouldn't be super hard to believe, I'd never been kissed in any form before, and now I finally get why people on TV go into a brief state of stupification when it happens unexpectedly. Heck, it wasn't even the real thing for me right then, but it still got my mouth to gape open for a second or two. Well, that worked out for Ryga, who, taking his chance, pushed me out to his arm's length, grasping my shoulders yet, to make it easier on his neck to let his draconic apply force against mine with force that surprised me whole night was full of surprised, it seemed; his passion seemed to be getting the best of him, that wild kiss feeling like an otherwise soft cloth had been shoved into my face.
My mouth still agape and I likely looking about as intelligent as a Magikarp out of water, it was child's - or whelp's - play for the Charizard to glide a long, wet, wide tongue past my lips' open borders. All the while he licked everything in my mouth that was lickable, his flame barely illuminated the woods enough for me to be able to see nothing besides those shiny blue eyes that almost seemed to glow on their own. They were so close to mine, too; everything felt close. Everything was close.
Quite literally, it was the hottest kiss I'd ever had. Ryga didn't seem satisfied before more of his saliva was in my mouth than my own, and by the time his draconic head put any distance between itself and mine, my mouth felt as if I had just eaten a bowl of hot macaroni and cheese. He rumbled deeply in a sort of satisfied tone. It ended up being that he subsequently took be my the hand again back inside, though quietly so as not to wake my parents. Fine by me, though, was such; I had nothing to say, and not just because I never spoke anyway. True, I was sort of hoping to speed along into being rutted like the submissive mate Ryga was making me feel like, yet simultaneously his softer approach was a sort of pleasure in itself entirely. So, the Charizard seeming to be in control, I did things his way
As it turned out, his way was to open our bedroom door, flip on the lights, make an 'after you' gesture, let me be a couple of steps away from the bed, suddenly shove me from behind so that I'm sprawled out on my own bed, and climb on top of me to pin me by the shoulders. Okay, I shamefully admit experiencing a moment of fear and distrust upon finding myself thrown into such a powerless, helpless state, but that was a big mistake. My guess is, though, that Ryga had a sort of sense for my fright, as he did his best to calm me down. He gave me a long, soft "Shhh..." that faded in volume each second until it dissipated into the air. Despite still holding me firmly in place, the shoulders I was being pinned by soon became the shoulders on the receiving end of a little massage. For any who have never been massaged by a dragon, his hands were strong and firm but as well caring and deliberate.
At the same time, he arched his neck and nuzzled me all over my own neck, the back of my head, and some of my upper back as well. Actually, it felt quite nice and relaxing. Quickly enough, I found myself calm and serene-feeling. "Have you ever mated before, Chad?" Ryga asked me curiously while his hands worked their way down my back. Funnily enough, his claws ended up inadvertently scratching some itches that I never had known were even there.
As much as was possible with my right cheek kissing the bedsheets, I shook my head in a 'no' answer. How could I have, anyway? I had always been invisible, after all, living in the shadow of the wings. I was never someone whom any had ever gotten eye on himself by anyone. Save for Ryga.
"Perfect," was the Charizard's lusty grow lof a response to the gesture. I bet I know what he was thinking, too: beyond a nice, snug fit for him, it meant he would forever be the only male ever to pleasure me so as I would be to him. Yes, the the commitment we made that night was lifelong, and I have less than no inclination to break my promise as I know he has as well.
When Ryga's hands had fallen far enough down, he slipped his draconic paws beneath my T-shirt and wormed them up my back towards my shoulders. I received the message he intended to send, lifting my arms up in front of myself sort of like a Superman pose. My dragon used such to deftly slip the article off of me and toss it aside like some worthless piece of garbage. "Why you humans insist on wearing these garments is something I'll never understand," remarked Ryga. I kicked off my shoes as he spoke. And, you know what? He's kind of right! Why do we wear clothes?
Well, that irrelevant point aside, sneakers gone, Ryga's scaly appendages had the opening for snaking back down my body towards my shorts. By that point, I was feeling far more than both close and intimate; I was feeling, something I finally understand well, lustful. What can I say? I didn't get touched like that really often. Had I not been lying on my front, my sign of arousal would have been perfectly visible.
Before I knew it, barrier number three between me and utter clotheslessness had been glided right off of my body.
"But no matter," remarked Ryga in a continuation of his previous comment. "We'll fix that now." In his excitement, he spread his leathery wings, enveloping me in their shadow. His claws hooked around the rim of my boxers to end up yanking them off significantly more roughly than my other clothes. "Ooh," was his follow-up comment, "That's MUCH better. Such a compliment made me blush in slight embarrassment; none had ever previously spoken to me in such a manner.
"And now I intend to claim you as my mate forevermore." Ryga said that in a far more serious tone, and now I know that such was instinctive; it's part of the standard wild Charizard mating ritual. "Contest me or submit." Well, there was definitely no nonsense there. It's probably obvious who 'wears the pants' in our relationship, which is pretty ironic since he never actually wears pants.
Guessing what I did next shouldn't be overly hard. The fact that I displayed submission by remaining on my belly but raising my hindquarters through getting my knees beneath me should be pretty predictable. There was some fear, though; Ryga is by no means small where it matters, and I was a first-timer. I was sure agony was imminent. Strangely enough, though, it was not. Quick biology lesson; apparently, female Charizard are so tight that the only reason a male can penetrate her is because he secretes great amounts of precum before even slipping into his bitch... which, in this case, is me.
So, when Ryga grabbed my raised hips quite firmly and started slipping himself in, my uncomfortability level was minimal. That extra pre ended up allowing him to work in an entire eight of his eleven inches into my rear before it got to the point that pain had set in too deeply. At this point, the female usually handles lubrication as the male returns to a typical secretion rate, but since I am not female, time needed to be taken. As big and strong of a beast as Ryga may be, he's a gentle giant. He was perfectly willing to pause for a minute or two to get my rear to quit burning so intensely.
He wasn't passive during my respite, though, not by two longshos. Ryga must have run his claws over every skin cell that I possess in his attempt to soothe me as the pain passed. Mostly, though, he concentrated on my back and sides. His touch was so gentle. The entire time that I was getting another sort of massage from the dragon, he rumbled deeply, sounding content. Under his care and over time it ended up being that the stinging receded, only a full, complete kind of sensation remaining.
Damn, it was good, and nobody was even moving yet.
I fixed that, though, by turning back to face him and his bright-as-the-moon eyes to nod. Ryga nodded back in eager agreement and resumed a strong hold on a hip with one hand while the other grasped my side. At first, I regretted nodding; it meant that Ryga had to withdraw some of his cock, which felt significantly less good. Thankfully, such sensation was brief; at about the three-inch mark, Ryga changed direction and plowed six more right back up my tailpipe, only a bit deeper than before but feeling like much, much more. Can I be blamed for gasping slightly due to the sudden burst of pleasure?
I sure hope not, because it ended up happening a lot. As big and strong of a beast Ryga may be, he was so slow and gentle with his initial thrusts. While I worked my elbows beneath myself in order to attain a more comfortable, maintainable position, he was moving to the beat of an imaginary metronome. My body ended up swaying forward and back despite Ryga's hold on me.
Tick, tock, in, out, push, pull. That's the sort of ecstasy I was being given for who knows how long. No idea had I just how much there is to sex, either. Far more passed than our physical motions; it is and was a sort of magical feeling, mutually pleasuring one another in the way the two of us could only do to each other. It was like we two had become one, joined by the ass and cock.
Ryga's rumbling failed to cease or decrease in volume while he humped me. Every tooth in his maw was shining in a lusterous grin as each second passed and the seconds turned to minutes. My body seemed to become more accommodating to him during that process, opening up the opportunity to shove 10 and, as he began to lightly pound me, all 11 inches up inside me. My eyes were squeezed shut by then while my lips seemed to form a perfect O-shape.
I wanted to shout for it harder. I wished I could have begged and mewled like a submissive breeding partner for Ryga to pound me into the ground and fill me up with fresh dragon spunk, but I stayed quiet while my new lover dominated me, save for th occasional gasp. In both of our minds, Ryga was in charge and I his to be used. At the same time, though, he in a sense also belonged to me.
Faster and faster and faster still Ryga pumped himself within me, his rumbles becoming heavy breath and an occasional content grunt. I pity those who know not the heaven of being drilled by a dragon; they're almost incomprehensible, all the sensations. Ryga, after all, is no six-inched human, but a large and powerful beast. Getting stabbed by him like a knight slaying, ironically, a dragon may even be too much pleasure for the mind to handle.
I actually felt a little light-headed around the 15-minute mark, but it ended up passing. Besides, I wasn't about to let it stop me, remove me from my new home around Ryga's dragon dick. It must have been for a total of around 35 consecutive minutes that we rutted. Can anyone imagine 35 minutes straight of domination by Charizard cock? It's crazy.
How many times did I end up staining the sheets? I'm sure it was at least twice. I couldn't have helped myself, though; it just felt so freakin' good. So full so loved, so dominated, so complete. The adjectives could continue for eternity and a day just as I wish Ryga's and my my mating could have.
But all things must end, and even my dragon has his limits. Some details are a bit of a blur, but I'm pretty sure we shouted each other's name to the ceiling fan at the climax. As I spasmodically squeezed him with my rear, my strongest orgasm of the night wracked me. Simultaneously, Ryga met the same fate; he pulled me into himself as hard as was possible to ensure that his plentiful, fresh Charizard cum got poured good and deep into my depths. In a second my insides, just like my heart, were good and warm.
Three minutes later, all of them spent injeting thick Pokemon seed into me, we wee both so exhausted after that, we ended up collapsing. It ended up being that I slept underneath him that night. We probably looked pretty silly, too. Oddly enough, since then, I've stopped having nightmares when sleeping in that bed, though 's more of a sex platform in my mind than a place to sleep; that honor yet belongs to the floor beside Ryga.
Between then and now, I ended up finding my voice when out of nowhere I needlessly informed Ryga that I loved him. He, of course, knew that already, but he gave me a huge hug in the excitement of hearing me speak anyway. At first it was only to Ryga that I could speak, but now I can talk to anybody as long as he's around. That's why I really hope he's in the audience tonight.
Well, I'm in costume, I'm ready and set to go, and there's my cue. After taking the deepest of breaths, one foot ends up in front of the other. I step onto the stage.
I leave the shadow of the wings.