iam looking for another old story about a wizard an an infertile dragoness. the wizard enchants her with a firtility spell and she grows huge. before she pops the wizard casts another spell to prevent this. in the next part the wizard is confronted by her daughter and taken to the dragoness who has transformed into a brood mother. she demands the wizard to turn her daughter into a broodmother as well. i believe it use to be on pumkinbellies site

Umm, Is this it??


A Dragoness’ Tale, Part I
By Mortanius

Of ten nights, nine found Maya il’Trakken awake long before dawn’s light, panicked and plagued by nightmares she would not have wished upon her most hated of enemies. Tonight, it was a clap of thunder like a giant’s footstep that woke her and set her heart beating fit to burst. The door, left ajar by the storm, slammed loudly to and fro in the ceaseless wind. It was all out of place in the isolated green valley Maya called home, and still more so at this time of year—the storms rarely set in until autumn, and it was hardly summer. She slid the latch home and returned to bed, though she knew sleep would be slow to come.
A young half-dragoness of slim stature but impressive height (taller than most men by some inches), Maya was a stunning specimen of her kind. Segmented scales greener and more radiant by far than the weather-beaten foliage that had taken root in the valley covered her from her head to her digitigrade feet, paler along her belly and tail. It made her look as though the whole of her body had been fashioned from sea foam. Eyes the color of autumn pumpkins stared lidless from a face much like that of a human woman, but for its fine scales and elegant, crested fins where a woman’s ears would have been. A bosom high and full enough to turn the eyes of any man lay bare in the sickly purple light of pre-dawn. She buried her face in her tri-clawed hands, weeping silently more at her own weakness than at the storm.
“And you dare call yourself a dragoness,” she sniffed angrily. “You are so beautiful and your fins so colorful you’d be the envy of your clan, if you could bear even one clutch of eggs. Well, we will see if we cannot do something about that.”
She pondered the apprentice’s offer; it did seem rather too wonderful to be true, but to spend the rest of her days with no mate and no children…. She did not trust magicians of that sort, nor did the rest of her kind scattered about these mountain valleys far from the lands of men. Human men brought little but trouble and despair, and human magicians were the worst of that lot. Rogues were worse than that still, as they inevitably sought to steal the coin from under a friend’s nose, and had magic to help them in the task. Perhaps this one would think twice, wither her a half-dragoness head and shoulders taller than he. Alanius by name, Maya had encountered him purely by chance by the side of a drinking pool, and he seemed a nice enough fellow. She was too trusting, though, and all of them were noble and selfless at first. She would see. Her people were not strangers to feasting upon those human men and women that strayed from their known paths. Maya did not agree with such things, but if this man took her heart’s confidence and did her dishonor….
Despite these misgivings, she departed the following morning with a high heart even without a great deal of sleep. Over her shoulders was slung a hide carry pack containing enough provisions to last her two days or more, as magic often took its own good time to run its course. Maya took care to cover her distinct footsteps in the mud left by the storm, as no half-dragon with sense in his head sought help from a human—the lesser half of their race. It was not long before she came upon the watering pool, long forgotten by all but the forest dwellers. It was an idyllic place indeed, all rocks and ruins covered with moss. A palace had been built over it, or perhaps it had simply been built into the palace. Its beauty was all the greater with the walls and ceiling gone.
And there was Alanius, as he had promised. He was a young fellow, with barely enough years behind him to be an apprentice, and Maya supposed women of his own kind might have thought him handsome. It was his magic that brought her to him today, and his vow. She skirted him wearily, seating herself upon a crumbling limestone bench. She managed a smile, and hoped it convinced him she would not make a meal of him.
“I did not know whether you would come,” she admitted. “My kind and yours do not mix well.”
“True enough,” Alanius chuckled. His voice would have smoothed a mountain. “I long since abandoned the company of men, my Lady Maya. I do not think you have much to worry about around me.”
“Please, Maya will do.” It was not often she was called a Lady, and it made her blush. “Tell me, Alanius, what spells do you plan to work on me? I like to know what is being done to me and how.”
“That much, we have in common.” Alanius nodded confidently and took a few tentative steps closer. “This will be more medicinal than magical. Truth to tell, I’m more a man of medicine than of magic, but I know enough of both to be a respectable apprentice, at best. My books often tell the one to be magicked to get in nothing but their skin, but I think we can do with just your belly open to me—that is where the herbs must be spread, after all. The herbs that might heal you, if all goes to plan.”
“You do me great honor,” Maya breathed, and gladly unlaced her loose-fitting tunic until the smooth green plane of her stomach lay bare. “If this sorcery of yours can do as you say, you are a blessing from the Goddess.”
“I don’t think I am that much.” It was Alanius’ turn to blush, and he masked that in turning to his satchel of herbs. Those, he ground in a lacquered bowl until they were made into a fine paste the color of skinned grapes. It did not look too pleasant to Maya, but she supposed there were worse forms of human medicine than herbal salve. Tales were told to hatchlings that would make any giant cringe, though half were not to be believed, and the other half were doubtless exaggerated by those of her people fearful of men. The salve was uncomfortable on her scales, and itched the skin beneath. Alanius looked less pleased spreading it with his hands, bare as they were, than she did having it spread over her. He laughed in spite of himself. “Some aspects of magic are less…agreeable than others, my Lady Dragoness. Medicine still more so.”
“A price any of my kind would pay, in this barren condition,” Maya replied firmly, and the young apprentice continued the anointment. She felt nothing but the itch of the herbal paste, but she supposed she could not hope for a clutch of eggs at her feet so soon. Too trusting, she’d been told by several of her people, and too eager. “This is not too comfortable, Master Alanius, but discomfort is bearable.”
Alanius said nothing, absorbed in his work. At last finished with that part of the spell, he turned to his books, a collection of thick volumes piled atop his own rucksack. Wetting his lips as though nervous—apprentices must always be nervous, with greater magicians peeping over their shoulders left and right—he selected one of the smaller tomes and flipped it open to a page he’d bent over to mark. The language in which he spoke then was some archaic tongue Maya knew nothing of, and did not want to. Ancient knowledge was a dangerous bauble, with a glitter to it that drew evil men to it like flies to a manure-heap. Time and again, Alanius would gesture sharply at her, and, unsure whether he meant her to do something in reply, she did nothing. At last he etched with his finger a complex symbol in the salve upon her belly.
A moment later, Maya felt a stirring within it, and her heart soared with delight.
It was a curious sensation much like that which took her when she swallowed a fish whole and alive. Though the salve was cold and gritty to the touch, she laid a hand across her belly, joyous to find a slight bulge in it, as if she’d eaten a particularly large supper. The bulge increased beneath her very fingers, and Maya chirped, delighted, at the feeling.
“I think I would take you as a husband, if you were to ask right now,” she sighed, happier than ever she had been. At last…. At last her clan would not laugh at the sight of her. “You should be a master, Alanius, not an apprentice.”
“You flatter me too early, I think,” Alanius stammered, and the book of spells fell from his grip as if heated over a fire. The stir of new life within Maya reached a boil, as though she were a teakettle. Her abdomen had grown large enough to hold a sow and a litter of piglets as well, and the riling inside was stronger by the second. She guessed her engorging womb could hold no less than ten eggs, now twelve, now fourteen…. If Maya had ever known fear, surely this was greater. She felt as if she’d been made to drink the watering pool down to the dregs, though she was not yet so large as that. Alanius was fluttering about his tomes like an agitated squirrel. “No, no, this is not right….”
“W-what’s happened?” Maya felt the fear in her voice, and her efforts to stifle it became frantic as still she swelled, her once-slim form bloating until the fine scales of her belly began to part. It was not her midsection alone, either; her breasts, filling with milk with which to nurse her dragonets, stretched at her tunic’s laces on the verge of bursting free. Maya writhed about, the pressure in her belly growing painful. “No, this—this is not what I wanted—I—please stop me, I’ll—“
“I am trying, I am trying!” Alanius exclaimed, hurriedly flipping through the pages set out before him. “I—I do not understand it, this should not be—“
“S-s-stop this, sorcerer, or I swear I’ll burst like a dropped waterskin!” Maya exclaimed, not so hasty to ease herself off the stone bench for fear that she would do just that. She felt as though she had a clutch inside her enough to produce an entire clan of her own and more. She had seen human women great with two and three unborn, and they had not been half her size. Still the dragoness’ middle swelled out, her navel jutting much the same as the cork plug in the neck of an overfull wineskin. So full was she now that her insides had been pushed about by her expanding womb, and her scales seemed nothing more than sparse decoration. Surely, only the Goddess might ever have felt such abundant life inside her, and Maya was no Goddess. Her womb was not fit to bear a universe—or such a number of her own people. She reached for Alanius, and he shrank from her in horror as if afraid she would burst on him. “If that is what you fear, apprentice, you must stop this magic or I will explode. You d-do not want me to mess your robes. Please, it h-h-hurts—“
At last, too wide for the crumbling bench to support her weight and girth, she dropped to the soft moss at the poolside, fingers splayed across the growing surface of her abdomen perhaps in the hope that she might hold herself together at the seams. Stretched tighter than a drum, Maya’s belly rippled as she grew ever riper with eggs, her gravid body rising like a bellows, or a loaf of baking bread. Such was the pressure in her that her eyes felt ready to burst from their wide sockets, and the rest of her simply felt ready to burst. Was this some punishment from the Goddess for asking release from her barrenness, or mere foolish inexperience on the magician’s part? It mattered little, when Maya lay squirming about with her skin stretched thin over a sac gorged with eggs that felt bigger than the moon.
At length, when the pain was enough to make her wish for death or madness, she abruptly ceased to expand. She grew no smaller, nor was the pressure relieved in the slightest, but at least she was bloating no further—perhaps because her hide would not allow it. Her belly might have accommodated five men a head taller than Alanius, who still whisked through those volumes of magic. A cloud seemed to descend over her thoughts. For the life of her, she could find neither reason nor sense in her head, smaller now than her child-ready breasts and doubtless comical atop the great expanse of her belly. Magic does us nothing but wrong, and you, Maya il’Trakken, the trusting one, the beautiful—you would just take it upon yourself to find a rogue as clumsy as this.
“That,” Alanius breathed at last, “was too close.”
“What have you done to me?” Maya demanded, her long, spear-like tongue drooping from her mouth in exhaustion. It was all she could do to utter a word, and she might as well have tried hewing a mountain to the ground as moving about. Inside her, a sea of soft-shelled dragonets and protective fluids rippled the surface of her womb. In vain, she attempted nursing from herself to relieve the burden of sweet milk within her bosom, and only felt her belly grow tighter for it. “One more egg in me and I think I would pop like an overripe melon fallen from a tree. You have destroyed me, wizard. I—I am stuffed fuller than a turkey on feast-day.”
“I have just saved your life,” Alanius replied. “And the lives within you. I—I do not know what went awry with the magic, but I have slowed it enough to give you a week’s time. After that…well, I do not want to think what might happen to you. I have done you wrong, and now I must right it. I will be at your side through this. In a week’s time, I think, you must come back to me, and we shall try to make you a bit more elastic. Otherwise…. Otherwise, I fear you may suffer a rather…messy fate indeed….”
-----
To Be Continued….

A Dragoness’ Tale, Part II
By Mortanius

Maya il’Trakken recalled a time only a week past. She’d been a joke to her noble clan, a half-dragon as free as any other, but possessed of a womb as barren as any desert—shameful. Now, she was a dragoness unbound in fecundity, but rendered entirely immobile with the great burden of eggs within her body. The bitter irony of her predicament was hardly lost on her, and she was not a student of irony. She was a student of nothing but fertility anymore. Her bloated dirigible of a womb had grown larger than all the rest of her combined, filled near to bursting with her dragonets, secure within the leathern shells of their eggs. She feared she might become nothing but a bag of young with a brain to keep things in working order—her arms and legs, thin as sticks beside her monstrously gravid belly, were surely of no use, and she had not spoken to anyone, man or half-dragon, since her…transmogrification.
Alanius had slowed the process, he’d told her; the magic was still at work inside her, but it did not fill her so quickly that she noticed it. She might wake up and feel her skin was a bit tighter than it had been the previous evening, but it was nothing beside the panic she’d experienced when the spell had first been cast. How much bigger could she grow? Would her rubbery hide hold together before this enormous clutch was out of her, or would she pop like a child’s toy ball thrown into a cookfire? Would she ever see her people again, or would she remain here, stretched thin as parchment and forever waiting for her young to be laid? Such questions had plagued her during those first few awful nights in her present condition, but days spent with nothing of consequence inside you but your full womb and no one for company but the dragonets within changed a dragoness’ perspective on these things.
At last Maya had summoned her sister, Aqua sa’Trakken, two years younger than herself but similar in stature. She was a beautiful specimen, with a band of sea-green along her nose that had given her the name Aqua. Slim and buxom, she sometimes found the coupling of narrow waist and full bosom a matter of discomfort; bearing such a quantity of voluptuous flesh was no easy task. Aqua was yet a maiden, with no children to call her own. Maya had not put the details of her quandary into her message to the younger dragoness; Aqua was a faithful sister, an open ear when none would listen, and Maya had no doubt in her heart that she would come. The sisters did not live far apart, with only a river between them, and that easily forded. So it was that Aqua came to her sister’s aid, and sealed her own fate.
Maya, unable to move as she was and barely able to see over the great dome of pale green before her, welcomed her as best she could. Words of greeting caught in Aqua’s slender throat at the sight of what Maya had become. The girl was speechless for some time, before Maya finally spoke. She could barely utter a word, without her insides sloshing about in a most unpleasant fashion.
“Have I ch-changed so much, sister?” she croaked.
“Maya, you have become the Goddess in flesh,” Aqua managed. “I must be dreaming—this is too strange.”
“There is a story behind my…my circumstances, of course,” Maya assured her, and shrugged. I must look like a festival balloon shrugging its string, she thought. “I fear I’ve brought all this upon myself. It is so good to see you, Aqua. To see anyone, but especially you.”
“And you, Maya.” Aqua nodded, but her voice was filled with horror, and perhaps just a touch of envy—she dearly wanted children of her own, but she was very choosy when she spoke of potential mates, and inevitably wound up empty-handed. Aqua approached her, but slowly. “Is there anything you would have me do, sister? How do you feel? I cannot imagine you are in great comfort.”
“I am not,” Maya sighed. She nestled her chin into her breasts, each swollen to half and again the size of her head. “Please, Aqua—I do not mean to sound…odd, or to impose upon you so quickly, but…would you take some of this out of me? It hurts me so, I feel ready to burst.”
“Yes, sister,” Aqua conceded solemnly, laying her hands upon Maya’s abdomen. “I think this might be the most practical way. Do you think you will be able to bear my weight?” She covered her mouth demurely and giggled in spite of herself. “I am a small dragoness, after all.”
“We shall see, little one.” Maya gasped as Aqua climbed gently atop her engorged womb—surely, any sudden movement on her part would rupture her tight-stretched skin. Scrabbling for purchase on the parted scales and at last resting atop the center of the great bag of eggs Maya had become, Aqua rested for a moment, head laid against her bulging abdomen as though listening to whispers. She looked like a child on the back of some giant tortoise. At last she took one of Maya’s swollen breasts in her hands, drawing the tender sac of dragonsmilk to her lips. The relief was instant and wonderful, enough to make Maya gulp and gasp with pleasure as her milk drained into Aqua’s gullet. Her sister nursed slowly, and then with increasing hunger, squeezing and kneading like a baker over bread. With one bosom quickly emptied and half its gorged size, Aqua eagerly seized the other and began to suckle anew. So eager was she to drink from Maya that her own belly began to swell noticeably with sweet milk, and when both Maya’s breasts lay empty and stretched out of all shape, she sat back on her haunches with sadness painting her delicate features.
“I hope you do not think me wanton or simply mad, sister Maya,” Aqua panted, wiping a rivulet of white from her chin, “but I have experienced nothing of this sort. I am looking a bit round myself. I’ve not had a bigger or better meal in all my life.” She lay back on the hide rug, hands resting upon her distended stomach. “When…when will you be…full again, dear sister?”
“It is only a matter of time, Aqua,” Maya sighed. Doubtless she would fill once more when her body realized she’d been emptied. She had nursed herself of late so her breasts would not burst or overwhelm her, but she did not think she could hold much more in her belly than was already there, and it was awkward to drain herself. “A matter of time.”
Aqua’s eyes bulged out suddenly until Maya thought they might pop out of her head, and the girl began to whimper in pain like some beast of burden kicked by a long-time master. Her stomach had begun to bloat anew, and with frightening speed, until the younger of the two dragonesses resembled more than anything a great green fruit, her navel the stem. Writhing as her once-lithe body expanded around her spinal cord to accommodate whatever growing thing had taken root inside her, Aqua began to foam at the mouth, her shrieks muffled. Her lungs had been crushed within her, and the snap of bones was sickening. Her young breasts filled until ready to burst at the seams, aureoles stretched flat and pale. Maya struggled in vain beneath the burden of her own weight, panicked at her impotence to do something, anything, to rescue her sibling from this madness. A plant might have stood a better chance of uprooting itself. Aqua had swollen into a massive sphere of stretched scales and skin bloated to translucence, her eyes wide in fear and pain, arms waving uselessly at her sides. She looked like a pond leech gorged too long on blood.
Maya felt her heart clench when Aqua pleaded her last, and popped.
Her skin lay open in a grotesque flower, exposing a ruptured womb overfilled with soft-shelled eggs. Dragonets moved within, ready to be born. It is my fault, Maya thought, horrified. Oh, it is my fault, I asked her to drink out of me and the magic spread to her, and without the wizard to stop her, she….
Alanius had promised no others would be hurt. He had promised her safety, and to help her through her predicament. Now Aqua, such an innocent and well-meaning little dragoness, had died because of him—because of Alanius’ clumsy magic, and Maya’s ignorance. No doubt the apprentice had run back to his master. Well, if Maya ever was able to move again, he would feel pain like no other man. Averting her eyes from what remained of her sister, Maya cried until it seemed her tears must form a river around her.
Alanius came to her a day after, a man too young yet to be a wizard, and when he stumbled upon Aqua’s body burst open on the floor and covered in swarms of dragonets crowding to slurp from her over-swollen breasts, he balked. He trembled from head to toe when he at last noticed Maya half-asleep and bloated in her chair. Stepping gingerly around Aqua’s remains and children, he hefted a spellbook in his hands and nodded.
“Another spell, I think, will make it so this does not happen to you,” he stammered. “W-who was she?”
“Your magic has claimed my sister,” Maya hissed, nearly unable to think for the spreading mass of life inside her. “How will you bring her back, sorcerer? How will you escape me if you do not?”
“I do not think escape is the question so much as why you should want to kill me.” Alanius shrank back from her, nonetheless. “I wish to the Goddess I could give your sister life, but I cannot. I hardly blame you for wanting my death, but you must see that without me at your side, you will stretch too thin. You will die as she did, and I know you do not want that.”
Maya let out a primal shriek at that, for she knew he was right. She raged in vain for a time, waving her spindly limbs at nothing, until her anger at last subsided. She snarled at the cowering apprentice, eyes fixed upon his book of cancerous spells, and he needed nothing more than a glance from her to open it to the spell he’d mentioned--the spell that would lend her leathery hide enough elasticity to bear this out. There were no salves with this one, no grand ritual; he simply waved his hand over her burgeoning form and recited something in that archaic tongue. She felt a loosening within her, a slight relief from the tightness of her stretched skin, and sighed.
“Do you feel anything?” Alanius inquired, optimism shining in his eyes. “Anything at all?”
“Oh yes, sorcerer,” Maya replied, and managed a smile. “Perhaps it is time to see just what the Goddess made flesh can do.”
-----

By Mortanius

Fifty years past, the wizard Alanius had failed a woman who’d become dear to him, in her own way. Now, a gray-haired old man with nothing to his name save his carry pack and the books within, he had only the past to keep his mind at ease, and his past was a thing that curdled his stomach when he thought of it. Thus he returned to this mountain valley, home to shadowed races long thought lost to the ages. In truth, Alanius would not mind spending the rest of his days in this place, away from the world of men. He had no right to call himself a wizard, until he faced Maya il’Trakken once more.
The modest hutch in which the half-dragoness had nested herself when last he’d seen her lay in pieces as if torn apart by brigands, consumed by vines, moss and time. Perhaps his well-meaning but ill-practiced magic had at last wrought her destruction, yet he found no bones to indicate as such. Perhaps she had won her people’s acceptance, and had moved on with them. Her last words made him shiver: Let us see just what this Goddess made flesh can do…. Had his magic twisted her mind so much, or had it simply warped with her body? Alanius scraped at a bit of rotting wood with his cane, and a fat golden beetle scurried deeper into the ancient plank. This was a dead place.
“Who are you?” Alanius leapt, his heart beating faster than was good for him at his age, and found himself face to face with a pretty young half-dragoness not dissimilar in appearance to Maya, when she’d first come to him with her troubles. Of a height with him and considerably younger, her skin was the color of a wave, white mottling along her legs and face the hue of foam. Her fine-scaled bosom was high and gleaming in the setting sun, and the rest of her was a thing of beauty as well. Something about her, perhaps the manner in which she carried herself, suggested more true dragoness in her than woman. Apparently she thought nothing of her nakedness. A smile spread across her thin blue lips. “I think you are the Wizard, yes?”
“I am a wizard.” Alanius nodded tentatively. “I do not think you’ve met me, though.”
“I am Ayla,” the young woman introduced herself, and Alanius frowned as she extended her hand: her three fingers were all nail and no flesh, or else as thickly armored as the scarab he’d knocked loose. Had Maya’s people entered a state of change, or was this simply a trait of Ayla’s clan? “You seek the Mother, do you not?”
“If her name is Maya il’Trakken,” Alanius replied, “then yes, I seek her.”
“Do not speak her name!” Ayla gasped, and scrutinized him closer. At last she tugged at the hem of his weather-beaten scarlet robe. “Come. The Mother speaks much of you. She wants you to….” She scratched her scaly head as if in remembrance. “She wants you to see what you’ve wrought, she says. We do not always understand what the Mother says. This way.”
Ayla scuttled eagerly on all fours, and Alanius was reminded once more of the beetle as he followed at a distance. This part of the valley was more jungle than forest, a thick canopy of leaves both humid and shadowed beneath, and he felt eyes all about him. At length reaching a high crest of dark soil rich with fungi and various species of glowing plant that would no doubt be handy in magical practices, Ayla arched herself over and beckoned Alanius to follow. He did, though hauling his old bones along with him was a task, to be sure. The sight dropped his jaw.
Beneath him lay a city as grand as any of those ancient sanctuaries of which he’d read as an apprentice and later as a stodgy old sorcerer. A circle of high watchtowers converged above a vast courtyard of limestone and crumbling granite. Amidst carvings of half-dragons and true dragons overtaken by vines walked myriad half-dragon men and women, all of them lithe and sea-blue like Ayla. They, at least, had the decency to cover themselves, if sparsely. Wares were peddled in a series of limestone booths Alanius took to be a marketplace of sorts, though he knew not what men would find themselves in this place of their own accord. The true spectacle lay at the center of the courtyard: it was Maya il’Trakken, and she was far from the woman Alanius had left to her fate so long before.
She was vast, distorted and insect-like. Her torso had become so emaciated that her ribs showed clean through and her scales flaked as though diseased, yet her breasts had swollen to sheer enormity, veins straining upon her tight-stretched hide. Beneath this first pair, Maya had…evolved…twin rows of milk-bloated sacs that suited her like a caterpillar’s legs. She’d grown an extra set of arms to match those with which she’d been born; those were thin, spiny and armored now, spindly as an insect’s legs beside the rest of her. At the waist, she swelled into a great membranous sac, rippling and full to bursting with squirming dragonets and those yet within their shells. An ocean roiled and churned inside her. All round her ludicrously bulging body swarmed dragonets and adults alike, eager to tend to her needs, as she was quite obviously unable to do so herself. Dragonets scrabbled over her enormous girth, affixing themselves to her breasts, drinking their fill, and at last dropping from her to lie helplessly engorged at her side. Her features had become almost those of a true dragoness, all but unrecognizable as those of Maya il’Trakken. She was, in a way, beautiful, though hardly in the sense that she had once been.
“What have I done?” Alanius murmured, approaching the bloated monarch with the caution of a man weaponless at the mouth of a lion’s den. Ayla followed close behind, eyes wide in awe of her impossibly gravid mother. All of these must be Maya’s children—tens, hundreds of them, with as many more inside her. The dragoness writhed, her four scythe-taloned arms and disjointed, useless little legs waving at her sides as though of their own accord. Doubtless little remained of her but brain and womb. “Maya? I doubt you will remember me.”
“How could I forget?” Maya’s voice was that of a beetle that had learned to speak, grating and high. She breathed deeply, the whole of her blue-mottled body expanding; so certain was Alanius that she would simply pop like a festival balloon that he turned from her. Maya leant toward him, her swollen breasts touching the soil. “See how I have become like the Goddess herself, Alanius. My body no longer has need for your magic—this, I have done of my own will. I have…changed. Do you see me for what I am, little apprentice?”
“I see you,” he replied tensely. “You’ve not become the Goddess—you’ve become nothing but a—a bloated stick-insect!”
“So foolish,” Maya chuckled, and waved her multitude of arms about once more as her young-filled body contorted to the shape of a great dewdrop and relaxed. Surely she must burst; Alanius’ magic had not given her immortality. She leant forward again, her scythe-claw stroking Ayla beneath her chin. The young dragoness smiled broadly. “I see you have met Ayla. She is one of my favorites. Would you like something as well, Ayla? You look as if you have not fed in a month.”
“Oh, yes,” Ayla squealed, delighted, and leapt to her mother at a playful gait. Stretching her mouth wide around a nipple, she began to suckle, her young throat distending with each gulp of dragonsmilk. An overzealous child, she began to tug and bite, to her mother’s discomfort. Filling herself to her very gills, her leathery hide began to stretch. At last sated and twice as gorged as her new-hatched brethren, she lay immobile, full to capacity and gasping for breath, eyes half-closed, whether from some natural soporific in the milk or from the quantity of nectar within her. If not even a tenth her mother’s size, she looked ready to bear a sizable clutch herself.
“Such a task, minding these children,” Maya sighed breathlessly. “They drink too deeply from me, and would go the way of my sister if I did not tell them just when to stop. You do remember my sister, Aqua? See how I have given birth to a new people. My people.”
“You have birthed a nightmare,” Alanius breathed.
“I think I have made the best of what you have given me.” Maya smiled, and it was a sick, mad smile devoid of humor. “I was angry with you, until I realized what you had…bestowed upon me. Now, you shall repay me.”
“What would you ask of me?”
“I wish you to make another,” Maya breathed roughly, and her laugh was like ice. Her body rippled and swelled with it. “Another like me.”
“Why would I ever…?” Maya shrieked, drawing the attention of every half-dragon and new-spawned dragonet within earshot. Alanius relented. “Very well. But where on Earth would I find one willing to become…like you?”
“Some would be more eager to accept than you might think.” Maya leant awkwardly to one side, her torso on the verge of tearing free of the rest of her bulk, and nuzzled Ayla’s swollen abdomen. “Ayla,” she purred. “Ayla, my daughter….”
“M-mother,” the young dragoness bubbled, a rivulet of white trickling from her lips. “Will the Wizard make me like you now?”
“Yes,” Maya assured her, and glanced to Alanius with ice in her eyes. “Yes, he will. Soon.”
-----

thats the one thanks mate

No probs.