A certain chocolate covered muse, has raised the complaint
that she never got to have any fun with the Dragon. Now it
doesn't do to have a muse upset with you so ... 

St. Friday and the Dragon
by Arty

The afternoon was warm and humid; the background hum of bees
and other flying insects lent the day an indolent air. A
silver-clad figure rode easily on a chestnut mare of
impressive height. As the figure approaches it becomes
apparent, from the fact that the helmet to the armour is
clipped to the saddle horn, that she is an attractive woman.
It is also apparent; as she gets closer that she is not a
happy bunny!

"Would you like to tell me why, exactly, I'm sitting on this
horse, dressed in this ridiculous tin suit?" She rapped
sharply on the magnificently endowed breastplate; a hollow
ringing emanated from it as a result of this action. "Which
reminds me, why am I 'advertising' like this? And while
we're on the subject of armour, have you tried to take a
leak in one of these things?"

Further questioning was cut short as Friday belatedly
realised that her squire was no longer with her. Turning in
her saddle she looked back along the track. Just as she was
considering turning back to look for the errant squire, she
appeared, cantering out of a small copse.

"Sorry to interrupt your tirade, but I just had to answer
that 'call of nature'."

"Of course it's so easy for you; I, on the other hand, have
to schedule things like that a day in advance!" Grumped
Friday.

"So how far had you got?"

"The advertising and the bathroom arrangements!"

Cat grinned.

"Stop smiling, it'll be your turn to wear this metal
monstrosity next."

"Oooo nice alliteration."

Friday stuck out her tongue at her 'squire'. "So what's the
plan, now that Frank and Nick have him all riled up?"

"Don't ask me, you're the author of 'The Care and Feeding of
Dragons' deary."

"Am I ever going to live that one down? I mean, I post one
lousy article and now I'm forever cast as the resident
Dragon expert! Here I am, dressed up in this ridiculous tin
suit …" Words failed her at this point.

Cat grinned again. "Oh come on it's not all that bad."

Friday roused herself to fresh irritation. "No. Some of it's
worse!" She drew her sword. "You know what the worst part
is?"

"No. But I just know you're going to tell me."

"The very worst part is this terrible pun of a sword." So
saying she swung the sword in a series of impressive cuts,
as she did so, Cat and Friday could clearly hear, in place
of the expected swoosh as the blade cut through the air,
'Snicker Snack Snicker Snack Snicker Snack.'

Cat giggled.

"Oh don't laugh, it only encourages him; the next thing you
know we'll be deluged in peanut filled chocolate bars!"

"I am feeling a bit peckish."

Friday waved her sword threateningly at Cat. "If you keep it
up I may feel the urge to try out this 'Vorpal Sword' for
real."

"Okay. Okay, I'll behave."

Friday sheathed the sword and the subliminal chant of
'Snicker Snack' was silenced. The two women heaved a sigh of
relief as the chanting was cut off. "Next time I really will
have to think twice before posting." muttered Friday under
her breath.

By now the two horses had carried the two female folk
heroines almost to the village that was their destination.
It seemed a prosperous sort of place. An impressive sign
stood outside the village boundary, it said. "Welcome to
FDWritings population 253. Please Post Carefully." As the
two read the sign the 3 was magically transformed into a 4.

"Seems a popular place." Snickered Cat suggestively.

"Enough with the puns already!" Friday was obviously not
speaking to her, so Cat ignored this outburst.

As they approached the entrance to the Village a small
welcoming committee had formed. At the centre of it was an
older man, who exuded a quiet authority. "Welcome to our
humble village Sir …" He paused, but recovered himself
quickly. "Lady Knights. I'm grateful that the foremost
Dragon tamer in all the land would deign to answer our call
for assistance so promptly. Please enter." He looked
shrewdly at Friday. "It's a long journey and you must be
tired. We have a guesthouse that you can use. There will be
no charge of course."

"Thank you. You won't believe how uncomfortable this stuff
gets after a while." Friday shrugged her shoulders to
indicate the suit of armour that she was wearing.

With practised ease Friday dismounted, somewhat noisily,
from her horse. [Don't blame me; it's all that armour you're
wearing! "And whose fault is that?" Okay, Okay just be
patient you won't be wearing it for much longer. "Oh goody!
No doubt it'll be exchanged for something impractical and
revealing?" Would I do that to you? "Yes! Oh well anything,
no scrub that; almost anything is better than this metal
stuff."]

While Friday was mentally chastising the fates over her fate
here, Cat had also dismounted and taken charge of both
horses. The Village blacksmith had appeared and offered to
stable their mounts. Cat had agreed and took the opportunity
to flirt with the craggily handsome man*, who appeared to be
wearing a leather apron and not much else.

(*I'll be taking bribes later from anyone who wants to
appear in later stories as the Blacksmith!)

The deputation and the two visitors made their way to the
guesthouse and the villagers wished the pair a good evening.
Friday and Cat had declined an invitation to a feast in
their honour as they said they would need to rest before
meeting the Dragon tomorrow. ["That's not fair! Why do I
never get to 'eat, drink and be merry' in these stories?"
You need the sleep that's why. Look there's only one bed,
I'm sure you and Cat can find something to do to amuse
yourselves for a while. She did pack the runny honey. "!"]

Not wishing to annoy his heroines too much the author did
not chronicle the exploits within the room that night. So we
rejoin the action reasonably early the next morning. Friday
was looking at the clothes that Cat had put out for her to
wear.

"You're as bad as 'he' is! I refuse to wear such an awful
dress."

"It's not awful, look I'm wearing the same thing myself."

"I know it's the two of us wearing the same dress that is
awful."

Cat bristled. "Why?"

"You're a Knight too right?"

"Yes." Said Cat wondering where this was going.

"These dresses are white right?"

"Yes." Answered Cat slowly, beginning to doubt Friday's
sanity.

"And what are they made of?"

"Satin."

"Exactly!"

Cat looked at her as realisation dawned. "Oh."

"I refuse to participate in such an obvious travesty of a
pun."

"There's nothing else to wear, the rest of our stuff has
been packed and spirited away."

["I'll get you for this!" Oh come on it's not that bad. "Oh
yes it is." It could be worse; I could make you moody and
depressed. "Aaaarrrggghhhh! Okay I give in; I'll wear the
damned dress. Just don't blame me if hordes of enraged
readers come and pull you limb from limb."] With the
pleasant scenario of an errant author being slowly
dismembered by a horde of ravening readers running through
her mind … ["Stop it!"]

"Are you gonna wear the dress or aren't you?"

"I'll wear it. Just don't blame me for the consequences!"
Suiting her actions to her words Friday gracefully shimmied
into the form-fitting dress. It had been cut cleverly on the
bias and the simple design made the two ladies look very
alluring indeed. Not that they weren't sexy, attractive and
beautiful on their own account you understand, it's just
that the dresses had been specifically designed to enhance
their natural … ["You don't have to lay it on so thickly,
I'll probably forgive you in a day or so."]

The two knights in white satin* dresses, left the room to
the accompaniment of the groans of several hundred outraged
readers.

(*Look, don't blame me, blame my … on second thoughts do
blame me. ["You're learning bub!"])

They were met outside the guesthouse by Frank the Village
Elder.

"Good morning Lady Knights. I trust you slept well?"

"Yes thank you. Perhaps you could point us in the direction
of breakfast and afterwards we can deal with this pesky
Dragon."

"That sounds like an excellent plan."

"By the way you don't happen to have a couple of bottles of
beer you can give me do you? Someone appears to have drunk
my last one." Friday looked accusingly at Cat. Cat grinned
and stuck out her tongue lasciviously. Friday blushed.

The village had laid on an excellent brunch style breakfast
and since they had been denied a feast the previous night,
everyone was there to greet the two women who would shortly
be dealing with the Dragon that had been tormenting them
recently. The food was distributed quickly and everyone
settled down to the task of demonstrating the fact that the
human body was the topological equivalent of a doughnut. In
reasonably short order the first part of the 'demonstration'
had been completed. I.e. the food had been eaten.
["Sometimes you can get too clever with the convoluted and
witty similes - just get on with the story!"]

Tactfully disengaging themselves from the protracted well
wishing, the two Knights left the village and headed towards
the Dragon's Lair. Just in case they each carried a large
bottle of beer. The smell of brimstone grew as they neared
the den of the dread creature. Sooner than they would have
liked they reached the entrance of the cave. A dreadful roar
was heard and a tongue of smoke and flame woooooooshed out
of the entrance almost singeing their hair.

"Sounds like a bad one."

"Time to get ready I suppose."

The two women slipped their arms from the shoulder straps of
their dresses and shook themselves gently. The delightful
movements of their unfettered breasts caused the dresses to
pool silkily at their feet. Grasping the beer bottles firmly
the two Knights walked gingerly into the cave. Once inside
the Dragon could be seen pacing ill temperedly backwards and
forwards from one side of the cave to the other. Friday
coughed to attract his attention. Before she could say
anything however he roared and a jet of fire reached out
towards them, as it died down the two women were seen to be
covered in …

"Chocolate Syrup!" Now Friday was a tad unhappy. "We cross
untold leagues, we endure tedious breakfast speeches, and I
have to participate in an awful pun; all to bring you the
beer. And what do I get in return? I get covered in
Chocolate Syrup!"

At this point she realised the ridiculousness of the
situation and started to laugh.

"Sorry Friday. I've got this terribly soar throat, and I
just coughed." The mellifluous tones of the Dragon echoed
through the cave. "Could I have the beer since you've gone
to such trouble to bring it?"

The two women walked, stickily over to the Dragon and he
took the beer. A practised flick of his wrist and each
bottle was opened and consumed in less time than it took to
write these words. Sighing in contentment the Dragon relaxed
visibly.

"Now would you like me to do something about the chocolate?"

"Yes please" the two women chorused.

"It could have been worse. I could have been a Soup Dragon."
Chortling at his own joke, the dragon began the task of
cleaning the chocolate from the women with delicate strokes
of his long Dragon's tongue.
 
"Could you open your legs for me please?"

In a kind of daze the two erstwhile Dragon Tamers did as
they were asked as the Dragon began to clean them in
earnest. Switching quickly back and forth the chocolate was
rapidly removed. Of course several tries were required to
ensure that certain parts of their anatomies were thoroughly
cleaned, they two or three glorious orgasms were just
pleasant side effects.

Of course they didn't want to waste the Dragon's tongue on
their hair so they all adjourned to the shower to wash the
Syrup out by more traditional means. And a truly penitent
Dragon made amends by making sure that Friday and Cat were
very clean indeed! Once all the soap was rinsed away he
insisted on checking to see that no soap residue was left on
their sensitive membranes. Friday and Cat groaned their way
through another orgasm each. Unhappily all good things must
come to an end, even the hot water in a Dragon's shower, and
so the trio retired to another, more comfortable location.

Later as the three of them relaxed on the Dragon's bed,
luxuriating in the downiness ["Watch it!"] of the patented
'Cloud Nine' mattress Friday spoke. "Now that you've thanked
us for the beer, perhaps you can see about paying the
'delivery charge'?"

Alas gentle reader we must leave them there as our time is
limited and my Muse is now otherwise engaged … ["You bet
your ass! Buddy boy!"] However I've no doubt it won't be
long before the enchanted land delivers a new story.
Farewell Friday, farewell Cat - don't wear out the Dragon
will you? He's not as young as once he was!
 
-Fin- -- http://www.asstr.org/~arty/