series: Dragon's Horde

Dragon’s Horde: Stretch to drink

By STrRedWolf  Website
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• Latest update: 7 December. Next update: 21 December. (Submissions welcome.)

• Latest from BRK: “Flashmob”, Parts 9‑10.

 

Murry was getting rather productive since his life-changing visit to the Dragon’s Horde brewpub. The three-headed maltese tiger was able to catch more details from stories, and writing them up was rather fast. He started using his home PC and work laptop at the same time.

Yet, the old reporter’s senses kept telling him to ask some more questions at the brewpub. So he made some time that Friday night. He hoped to talk with Cyren over something he saw that weekend, something that kept buzzing at the back of his heads for ages.

The curious cat needed to ask that old dragon medic some anatomy questions.


A male fox shook his head, riffling through papers on his desk. His rubber company was just scraping by, surviving on regular orders. All their efforts in marketing, failing. It didn’t help that the “marketing geniuses” they kept hiring would take their money and head for the hills... the packwolf lawyers were still tracking them down. But the money would be lost anyway — any cash recovered would go to the lawyers.

At least they got the regulatory approval to make condoms, but the market was already saturated. Maybe they could squeeze in. Maybe. It gave the fox a headache that late Friday afternoon.

He decided he needed a drink, and headed to a place he overheard the workers say was good: The Dragon’s Horde.


Murry three-pawed himself down to the brewpub, which was just gearing up for the evening crowd. Dan, the four-armed dragon tending the bar, noticed him and called out “Oh hey! Murry! What’s news?”

“Dan!” Murry said with his middle head. ”Nothing much. I got questions, but thankfully not for a story this time. Some curiosity of mine. I doubt I can even make a story out of it.”

“How so?” Dan said, starting up a beer.

“Anatomy questions related to that chick last week,” Murry said. “And if you’re pouring, give me a low-ABV Pilsner.”

“That’s up my alley, then.” a muscular, stuffed into a three-peice suit dragon called out as he walked out. ”Hey Murry.”

“Hey Cyren,” Murry said as a thin fox walked into the bar. ”I got some anatomy questions for you concerning that chick from last week.”

“That’ll cost you, you know,” Cyren said, looking over at Dan who was pouring Murry’s beer. “But it looks like you’re prepaid. Slide on over. I put in some new seats for you to try.”

Dan handed Murry the mug of beer, before he noticed the fox. As Murry slid over, he said to the fox “Why hello there stranger? Welcome to the Dragon’s Horde. What can I getcha?”

“Beer. Just... beer.” the fox muttered.

“Nothing else for your troubles?” Dan said, prepping a glass and filling it with an IPA.

“Ooooh you don’t know my troubles.”

“Try me. I may have a solution.”

Dan poured the beer as the fox slowly poured over the problems at his company. He listened for hints and clues, before mixing up a depthcharged beer that the fox eagerly took to.

“So...” the fox said. “Whatcha think? Am I screwed? Should I fold the company?”

“Nah.” Dan said. “I think... I didn’t catch your name. It’s...”

“Doug.”

“Heh. I had a feeling about that. Nah, I think an opportunity will arise soon that you should take. Besides, you wouldn’t be the first one. Some may say it’s a growth industry.”

“Really?” Doug quizzingly said, starting to swagger a bit.

“I think so. But I also think you just hit your limit. Cash or charge?”


A long conversation with Cyren seemed to satisfy Murry’s curiosity, concerning the head-moving experience of a “Lowering” shot. Talk of airway and esophagus being redesigned and placed properly, male anatomy being integrated and moved, tails becoming prehensile, and female anatomy issues being worked out.

But by then, Doug had been taken by a driver to home, and Dan came up with a few mugs. Murry noticed, and at a stopping point he politely switched topics, and asked Dan “I think you got a story for me. What’s up?”

“That was Doug from Winger Rubber that I just sent home,” Dan said. ”I’d track the company over the next few days. If things pan out...” Dan then smiled...

“Oh you didn’t.” Cyren said.

“The beginiings of an opportunity came up.” Dan said. “So I pushed it a bit, just enough to see where it lands.”

“Hmmm...” Murry thought out loud. “Winger Rubber... they recently got clearance to make condoms... and they just won a lawsuit about their NevrBreak line...”

Cyren perked up and said “Dan, you sick puppy!”

“I know,” Dan said. “I know. I’m well on my way to being a meddling bartender.”


The sun broke over Doug’s face... or as much as it was not blocked by a huge object in his way. Still, it triggered a stir, and he yawned. Slowly he opened his eyes...

...and saw a big, black cock as thick as he was in his face.

He looked around it, moving his hands around it. Hard and thick, and possibly ready to go...

“Yep,” he said. “It’s wood.”

He then propped his upper body up to see how long it was... and ended up seeing how long he was. His torso had stretched up, lengthening from his old 5’ 4” height to an even 16’. He had stretched from the end of the L-shaped couch at the small corner near the door to the other end, with his cock bridging erect between the two ends across futon.

Doug looked at the length and the girth of the massive member, with beachball-sized nuts resting heavily on the floor. He said “Damn, I need clothes and even condoms big enough to handle this beast. And nobody makes then this big...”

He touched his member, solid and steady. A shudder went through his body... and then the idea hit.

“...yet.” the fox added, grinning. He snaked his chest back over to the short side of the couch and picked up the phone, dialing an on-duty manager at the company.

“Charlie! It’s Doug.” he started. “Listen, you got that artist kid right? The one who does 3D stuff... you do? What’s his name and can you spare him? Tim? Yeah, ask him if he’s done plaster life casting. No, I found a niche market that we can get into with our NevrBreak. Just ask and if he says yes, get him here on the phone. I’ll hold.”


Two hours later, a ring at Doug’s door chimed. Doug said “Hey Bob, can you answer that?”

A latexed-up lynx said “Sure, chief.” and opened the door, showing a triplicated, stretched red cougar.

“Hi! Red from Gwen’s. You call for a tailor?”

“Yeah.” the lynx said. “The cheif did. Come on in, we’re almost done.”

Red came in and dragged three totes behind, carefully manuvering his multiple massive members encased in his jeans around. ”I heard someone got smashed at the Dragon’s...”

That’s when he came upon Doug, with his member being propped up and encased in plaster, with Tim drying it off with a large hair dryer.

“Hello there!” Doug said. “You must be from Gwen’s.”

“Yeah, I’m Red, the head designer for Gwen’s. Looks like you got hit with a few too many specialty shots. They tend to do a number on you like they did to me... but I’m enjoying ‘em.”

“Same here. I’m Doug from Winger Rubber.”

“Oh hey, I have to talk to you about your NevrBurst latex. That stuff’s hard to work with for clothing.”

“We’re going to switch it to a new condom line that nobody has ever seen before, and... heh, it looks like you could use it.”

“Yeah, I’ve been starting to leak. It’s embarrassing.”

“Now you know why I’m getting my cock cloned.” Doug looked at Tim, a latex-clad coyote, who said “Five minutes, boss. We could use some more samples, though.”

“Tell you what,” Doug said to Red. “You look like you’re packing thrice. Let’s clone yours and get you a pack as well, so that you can keep yourself in check.”

“If it’s good, you’ll need a subscription service. Sure, but let’s get some measurements first and get you some base clothing so you can get out.”


That night, Doug duck heavily into the Dragon’s Horde, and walked up to the bar. There, Dan recognized him and motioned him to some special seating: A barstool he could sit sideways on, then a padded shelf to coil his torso around a pole. This hid the Eastern dragon design on his new tee, but let the stretched fox take the weight off his extended back.

“Hey Doug. How’s it going?” Dan asked.

“Much better, actually. We’re developing a new line of condoms for those who are heavy producers, like I’ve become. We’re going to make them for Gwen’s.”

“Hey, sounds like a good deal.”

“I’d say. We’re using the new latex we developed and it’s holding up quite well. Some say we should get into garbage bags as well... but I think this will be the first time we have to have a pick-up service for customers.”

“Even better! What can I get you?”

“An answer. What did you give me last night?”

“Oh, nothing much. Mainly a few Ferrinters and Mirrose to a depth-charged beer. Looks good on ‘ya.”

“I’d say. Just a regular IPA today, nothing added.”

That’s when Tim, the latex-clad coyote, came in. “Boss! Hey boss! We got a problem. We’re getting orders for multiple sizes and shapes. I’m getting overwelmed on the designs.”

“Hmmm...” Dan said, placing a hand on his chin and looking at Tim. “...you like being squeaky, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but I don’t see... Wait, this is the Dragon’s Horde, right? The place where Vikki went all rubber in those videos?”

Dan grinned “Yep, we have a drink for that. And I think we can make you a bit inflatable too...”

Doug shot that sly grin of all foxes, and said “Show ‘em your ID, Tim, and lets see if we can ease those designs.”

As Tim pulled out his wallet, Doug knew an old quote was true at the Dragon’s Horde: Beer, the cause of, and solution to, all of life’s problems.


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