This little quickie was written to include prompts thrown at me by readers during a guest author day at the Romance Lives Forever Yahoo Group. A special thanks for Kayelle Allen and her group for letting me come out and play that day!

The prompts were all medieval themed, including Lancelot, dragon, iron maiden, privy, etc.

PIERS by Kiernan Kelly

There simply had to be more to life than this.

Pierpont - even he rolled his eyes at the pretentiousness of his name - flopped down next to the lake, the breath from his nostrils rippling the placid blue water. At twenty, he was in his prime - huge, powerfully muscled, his scales unscathed by claw or sword.

He should be happy sailing along the air currents between the clouds, snacking on the odd cow or peasant farmer. But the sad fact was that Pierpont - Piers to his friends, had he had any - was lonely.

"What troubles such a fine, young dragon?"

Piers glanced up and cocked his head, looking at the slim, beautiful human woman who'd risen out of the depths of the lake. Her gown was the same brilliant blue of the water, her eyes sparkling with kindness.

If he'd had any energy at all, he would have eaten her. But that would involve moving, and he was too depressed for that.

"I'm alone."

"All dragons are alone. `Tis the nature of the beast," the Lady said gently.

If she kept this up, he might very well find the energy to bite her head off after all.

"I don't care what other dragons do. I don't want to be alone. I've got…needs."

"Needs?"

"Do you have water in your ears? Yes, Needs. Needs that I can't take care of by myself. Well, I could, but I'd rather…oh, forget it," Piers huffed, plopping his head down on the bank again.

"Poor dragon. I dislike seeing one so majestic brought low. Therefore, I will help you, sweet dragon."

"I don't do dames," Piers said, twin puffs of smoke drifting from his nostrils.

"What? Oh, no…what I meant was that I shall make you human so that you might bide with human folk for a time."

"Bide? Is that the same as shag until their eyes cross?" Piers asked, feeling a stirring of excitement in his groin - or where his groin would be once he was in human form.

"Uh, sure." The Lady lifted her hand and a slim wand appeared in her delicate fingers. She waved it toward Piers.

In the blink of an eye where had once sat a dragon now sat…a dragon. Piers blinked then cocked an eyebrow (yes, dragons had eyebrows), at the Lady.

The Lady looked at her wand, smacked it against her thigh a few times then pointed it back at Piers.

Poof!!

In the space of a heartbeat, Piers was transformed from a huge, hulking dragon into a puny little man. Puny and little in comparison to his dragon form, anyway. In relation to humans, Piers was six-four, and carried over two hundred pounds of solid muscle.

Looking at himself in the reflection of the water, he grimaced at the homely sight. Wide, brilliant green eyes framed by thick black lashes stared back at him, from a deeply tanned, high cheek-boned face dusted with scruff. Sleek dark brows knitted as Piers took in his shoulder-length, wavy black hair, aquiline nose, and full, sensuous lips. Not a single scale to be seen anywhere. Really, how did humans stand to look at one another?

"Who's going to want to shag this?" he cried. But there was no one to hear his cries, for the Lady had already melted back into her watery home, leaving him alone.

Piers shuddered looking down at himself. For starters, he only had two legs. Two! No matter that they were firmly muscled and dusted with silky soft black hair, they were still far less than his usual six. Given that his wings had disappeared, he was going to have to walk to the nearest human settlement and with only two legs it was going to take him forever.

He near wept when he saw his dragonhood. Great Fae Farts! It was a mere ten inches - half the size it was in his dragon form! What the hell was he was supposed to do with that? Fuck field mice?

Piers cast a baleful eye at the lake. Let that watery bitch show herself again and he'd gladly drown as long as he could bite her head off before he went under. Sighing deeply, he turned and started walking.

It was a long, long time before Piers left the ivy-and-bramble clotted forest and entered a meadow. He breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted the spires of a castle nestled in the hills in the distance.

Finally! Civilization! He feared that if he had to walk much further his legs would have been ground down into stumps.

And, as a human, he was quite short enough already, in his opinion.

Hollow clopping reached his ears - which, by the way, didn't pivot the way proper ears should, necessitating him to swivel his entire head toward the sound. Piers spotted a large white horse - delicious, he reminded himself, with a dash of oregano - trotting in his direction. The beast carried a human on its back that in turned carried a long, pointy lance.

Piers winced. He knew what a lance was - it was like a spear. In dragonspeak, the word "spear" meant "put a big freakin' hole in your hide that hurts like hell." He was tempted to run away, but knew that his spindly human legs wouldn't carry him farenough, fast enough. He opted for sucking in a deep breath and puffing out his chest, hoping to appear larger than he was and perhaps frighten the rider away.

No such luck.

"Greetings, traveler," the man said as he and his tasty-looking mount approached. The man was nearly as big as Piers, which in Piers' eyes made him about the size of the average housecat. Long, flowing blonde hair fell in a silken sheath halfway down his broad back. Blue eyes the color of a clear summer sky twinkled as they gazed down at Piers.

And then darkened with a look that made Piers' dangly bits feel all warm and tingly.

"I am Lancelot," the stranger said, smiling.

Lancelot? What kind of a person bore a name that meant Spears-a-lot? Oh shit, I am in six kinds of trouble, Piers thought, wondering exactly how many big freakin' holes that hurt like hell his man-hide could take and before going toes-up. Not many, he feared. His new warm and tingly feelings faded, his dangly bits trying to tuck themselves up inside of his body.

"Have you a name, traveler?" Lancelot, evidently, was a persistent little bugger. He didn't seem to be falling for Piers' puffed-out-chest ploy, either. "Are you holding your breath?" he asked, cocking his head at Piers.

Piers realized that the jig was up, and let his breath out in a long whoosh. "I am Piers," he said, squeezing his eyes shut, waiting for the first of the lances to pierce his man-hide.

He felt nothing but the gentle caress of the breeze on his un-scaly skin.

"Um…might there be a reason that you wish to keep your eyes closed, young Piers? Is it a game? Gawain often insists on playing What's In My Pocket." Of course, we always know exactly what's in his pocket, even though he makes us reach in there and fondle it anyway. The man has no imagination. At least Galahad makes his do shadow puppets."

Piers opened his eyes and cocked a brow. "You've been trounced in the joust one time too many, haven't you?" he asked, thinking that Lancelot was a bit daft. He was kind of cute in a human-mouse sort of way, but but as crazy as a privy-house rat nonetheless.

"No, I never joust. Jousting is for amateurs," Lancelot answered. "Why are you naked?"

"Why are you not naked?" Piers countered.

"Because…because… " Lancelot's voice faded, as he obviously fumbled for a good enough reason.

Ha! Score one point for the dragon, Piers thought triumphantly.

"Should I be naked?" Lancelot asked, a confused, befuddled look spreading across his handsome face.

Piers thought it over. It was an interesting proposition. He wanted company - Lancelot, although as nutty as a squirrel in a walnut tree, was rather appealing. To meet anyone else, Piers would need to travel all the way to the castle. Piers' legs still ached from walking, and he would need to hike another thirty or forty miles to reach the castle - which was no doubt surrounded by a moat or other obstacles - while Lancelot was right there in front of him. Piers' dangly bits had come out of hiding, which was a good sign that his body was reacting favorably to Lancelot.

Also on the plus side, Lancelot, regardless of his name, seemed to have no interest in poking big freakin' holes that hurt like hell into Pier's hide - at least, not yet.

All in all, it seemed like a win-win situation.

"Yes, you should be naked," Piers answered.

Lancelot blinked, but dismounted, clanking and clattering his way to the ground. Armor, Piers thought, was not the stealthiest of human clothing. A deaf dragon in the middle of a thunderstorm could hear him coming from a mile away.

Clank. Lancelot tossed his breastplate to the ground. Clank, clank. His gauntlets followed it. Swish, chink. Lancelot's chainmail landed on top of the growing pile of metal. At last he stood before Piers in nothing but his skin…except for a small piece of material covering the one part of him Piers most wanted to see.

"What's that? Remove it," he ordered Lancelot.

"It's a codpiece. It protects my Lance-a-little."

That didn't sound promising, but Piers had come too far to be stymied now. "There's nothing here that will harm your…er…Little Lance."

"Lance-a-little. He's sensitive about his name. Said the other way implies that he's small, and he's not. He's big for his age."

"Ri-ight. Off with it, then."

Lancelot removed his codpiece, patting Lance-a-little fondly on the head as he released it. Piers wondered briefly whether the rest of the Round Table knew that Lancelot was running about the countryside, free, or if they thought he was chained up safely in a dungeon somewhere in Camelot. He was definitely one point short of a pentacle.

For a while they stood still. Lancelot stared at Piers, and Piers stared right back, not sure of how to proceed. Piers just didn't know the human protocol. He didn't know the dragon protocol either, for that matter, but really didn't wish to dwell on that sad fact.

Lancelot's Lance-a-little, while pathetic in dragon terms, was nicely sufficient for a human. Nearly as big as Piers' organ, it was reddened and thick, and from the look of the way it stuck straight out from between his legs, hard enough to crack walnuts on.

Piers finally broke the silence. "So… "

Lancelot was equally eloquent. "Um… "

Piers rolled his eyes. He'd heard of people having more fun than this inside an iron maiden. "Look, Lancelot, while I don't doubt that you're as bright as any of the Round Table, " he said, thinking that he meant the actual table - since Lancelot was obviously as clever as your average, everyday brick, "but we seem to be at an impasse here. I'm going to tell you the truth. I'm not really human. I'm a dragon who was magicked into human form, and I don't have much time, so I'm going to be blunt. I need to get laid."

"I thought all dragons were laid. Don't you all come from eggs?"

Piers swiped a weary hand over his face. "Yes, but that's not what I meant. What I'm trying to tell you is that I need to fuck. You do know what "fuck" means, don't you?"

"Oh… " Lancelot said, nodding as a sly, understanding grin slowly lifted his lips. "Why didn't you just say so?"

"I don't know…I thought the "get naked" conversation might have given you a clue."

"Well then…I'm ready. Bend over."

Piers blinked. "What?"

"Bend over," Lancelot repeated, fisting his thick length, "so that I may verily have at your ass."

"Verily, I shall tear off your dick and beat you upside the head with it," Piers snarled. "I top."

"Nay. I'm a Knight. Knights top."

"Yeah? Well, I'm a dragon. I'm higher on the food chain, bucko."

"The food… " Piers watched Lancelot's face pale as he considered the meaning of the phrase. "Oh, well, if you put it that way… " Looking as though he'd rather have his hands manacled and his head thrust face down in a privy, Lancelot slowly turned around, and bent over at the waist.

Piers stared long and hard at the twin pale globes that Lancelot presented to him. There didn't seem to be any visible means of entry, and Lancelot didn't come equipped with directions. He knew that on dragons the way in was also the way out, so to speak, said way being located directly under the dragon's tail.

Lancelot sadly lacked even the must rudimentary tail.

"Er…Lancelot? Exactly where on the human body does one, er…I mean, how…"

Lancelot shot him a disgusted look from over his shoulder. "Here. Right here," he said, pointing to his ass.

"I realize that, but there doesn't seem to be any access. Do you have a drawbridge or a hidden panel or something?"

"For someone at the top of the food chain, you're a little slow, aren't you? How have you not ended up as a pair of boots?" Lancelot grumbled. He grabbed his ass, fingers prying apart the crack. "There. See it?"

"No," Piers said. "You must be defective. There's nothing there."

"Of course there's something there. It's right here," he said. One long finger tickled at a tiny, puckered bit of russet flesh tucked away deeply between his ass cheeks.

"There? Oh, come on. You're kidding me, right?"

"No, I am not kidding. That's where it goes."

"I can't fit in there. Even a human dick is too big for that!" Piers protested. He wondered why Lancelot had chosen this particular time to torture him with practical jokes. Obviously, the man was one thread short of a tapestry.

"Trust me. It stretches. Unless you want me to show you… " Lancelot offered with a hopeful note in his voice.

"No, I'll take your word on it. But if I split you in two, kindly don't cry to me about it." Piers said, still doubtful that the mechanics of what Lancelot was telling him to do would prove anything but horribly messy. He walked up behind Lancelot, aligning his cock with Lancelot's tiny, supposedly stretchable, hole.

"You'll need to wet it," Lancelot said, just as Piers began to press the head of his erection against Lancelot's asshole.

"Wet what?"

"Your organ. It needs to be slick."

"Why?"

"Friction hurts, that's why. No fun for anyone."

"There's no water nearby," Piers protested, getting a little annoyed. "Stop trying to procrastinate."

"I'm not procrastinating. It's true. Use whatever you have available. Oil, a potion…whatever liquid you've got. Spit on it if you have to, just hurry up!"

"Ew!"

"Just do it!"

Pushy little bastard, Piers thought. He hocked up a big, wet one and spat it onto his erection. Yuck. Humans, Piers decided, were just plain disgusting. He pushed the thought from his head, concentrating on the task at hand. Time to get on with business. He pressed the head of his erection against Lancelot's tiny opening, mentally crossed his fingers that he didn't cleave Lancelot in two - at least not before Piers was finished - and pushed.

Surprisingly, Lancelot had known what he had been talking about. With just a little urging from Piers, his cock slid into Lancelot's body until it was fully encased and Piers' balls banged up against Lancelot's ass.

Holy Hannah.

Humans, evidently, had forges hidden inside their bodies, because Lancelot's ass was as hot as a kiln, fully fired up and smoking. Piers had a sudden fear that his dick would be charred to a cinder, although at that point nothing short of beheading could have stopped him from fucking Lancelot blind. He didn't care if he combusted entirely, burning until he was nothing more than a dragon-sized pile of ash, as long as he got to come first.

Withdrawing, Piers slammed himself back up to the hilt. Lancelot mewled, but backed up into Piers' thrust, his body clenching around Piers' shaft. Ye gods, he was so tight! Piers' cock felt as though it were wrapped in the finest silk as the muscles of Lancelot's ass squeezed even tighter around him. Again and again he pounded himself into Lancelot's body, until Piers felt a deliciously decadent tickle swirl through his nether regions, quickly growing into a roaring, eye-crossing orgasm of such magnitude that Piers seriously thought it might kill him. Not that he cared if he keeled over dead at the moment. - it would have been a small price to pay for the mind-boggling orgasm he was experiencing.

Lancelot was making peculiar sounds, his hand pumping his own organ furiously. When his body shuddered violently, Piers realized that either Lancelot had come, or he was having a seizure. Either way, Piers' work here was done.

They separated, both sinking to the grass in exhaustion, panting heavily. Piers felt his heart hammering in his chest, a pleasant buzz filling his entire body. Nice. Messy, sticky, and far too quick, but nice, he thought. It was almost worth being stuck in a puny human body. He looked over at Lancelot, who had fallen onto his back, looking like a limp, if satisfied, noodle.

Not bad. Not bad at all. Piers wondered whether Lancelot might be amenable to a more permanent relationship with a dragon. It would be wonderful to be able to do this again and again. To be able to sink himself in up to the hips anytime Piers felt like it.

After all, Lancelot had been right. His body did stretch. Surely it could stretch wide enough to accommodate a dragon dick.

And if not, well…Piers could be assured of having at least one more go at Lancelot before he split open like an overripe melon. At which point, Piers could enjoy an after-sex snack. He didn't see how he could possibly lose. Regardless of the fact that Pier's body still trembled from the aftermath of his orgasm, his cock twitched, trying to come back to life like a phoenix.

"I need to get back to Camelot. Arthur will wonder where I've gotten off to," Lancelot murmured, trying to sit up. He failed, falling back into the grass. There was a sleepy, sated look on his face.

"Don't go back. Run away with me. I've got a sweet little lair tucked into the mountainside. We can live there and be happy."

"Sorry. I have to get back. Arthur depends on me to service Guinevere so that the bitch will leave him alone."

It was at that very moment that the Lady of the Lake's spell wore off, and Piers reverted to his dragon form.

Grinning a mouthful of sharp, dagger-like teeth, Piers scooped Lancelot up in his talons, spread his mighty wings, and leapt into the sky. He carried Lancelot away to his mountain lair, where dragon-legend has it that he proved that the human body could stretch to accommodate a dragon dick.

As for Arthur and the rest of the Round Table, Lancelot's disappearance sparked quite a controversy. Gawain, for one, was particularly put out, because Arthur charged him with servicing Guinevere in Lancelot's absence, which precluded any more games of What's In My Pocket.

After a while, fact became myth, and myth became legend. It was said that Lancelot died a natural death, along with Guinevere. The truth of the matter is that after servicing Arthur's lady for so many years and listening to her whine every damn night, Gawain finally lost his knightly marbles and clonked Guinevere over the head with a vase.

As for Piers and Lancelot, they lived happily ever after.

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Copyright© 2005 - 2007 Kiernan Kelly