Looking at Prastlerdai, I wonder about the passage of time. It wasn’t long ago that I was their age, having just entered adulthood and therefore allowed to visit and partake in the breeding ceremony.
I don’t think I was ever so scrawny, though.
Prastlerdai rubs their snout as they sit before me, their legs crossed. I perched myself upon a rock and nodded to them, taking on a mature adult role, even as I felt the years of my youth draining away from me like the sands of time in an hourglass.
I asked them what it was like to be a part of the newest generation whose youth was rocked by the radical shifts in our culture that I had so graciously provided. The change was made for them, if not for my fellows and me.
The new adult before me was pretty shy, scratching themselves nervously when I brought up the question, so I had to take a different angle of attack.
“Are you starstruck?”
That question led to a gasp, and then they threw themselves before me before unleashing their concern—and quite a valid concern it is.
“You’re a hero for our people, Tik Tik!” said the supplicating creature. “But you also fucked my dad, so…”
I tittered at that response. We do not generally partake in familial bonds like those seen by upper-worlders. Beyond the ledgers of the matriarchs, who made sure that no unfortunate inbreeding happened, we never saw any particular connection between those who granted us life. After all, it was the machinations of the tribe that brought forth each kobold, not the whims of individuals.
“That bothers you?” I asked.
“A… maybe? Should it?”
“No.”
It’s the truth. In a free-loving society, why shouldn’t one be able to indulge in multiple generations in the same family line? Granted, they must be of age, which Prastlerdai was and willing.
Of course, I assured them I would leave if anything made them uncomfortable.
“Otherwise,” I continued, fluttering my eyes. “I’m yours. No one will have to know.”
(Note to self—ask Prastlerdai for permission to publish.)
Prastlerdai needed only that, I suppose, before they moved onto the experimentation phase, as I found myself knocked off of my rock and fallen with my legs spread against the cave floor. They plopped themselves on that perch, grabbing my ankles and rolling out their tongue, pressing it to my thigh, slipping up and down, down, down.
There’s a hungry growl, something more experienced creatures don’t show. If Prastlerdai has done much in the way of sexual experiences, it doesn’t show in their eagerness.
I’ve fucked the most bestial of sapient creatures, and even they have more restraint than a member of the new majority freed from their restraints. It’s simply fascinating.
This is the energy we kobolds have always had in the Dragon’s Heir but was not given to us. We were told to hold our lusts in and to save it for the breeding pits. Here, they can express them, so pure and so delightful.
That tongue that went inside me slapped wildly through my slit, and up from Prastlerdai’s mouth rose the cutest of growls. I thanked them for their service by clamping my legs around their head. How else might I keep myself from being totally dominated by the rambunctious nature of this beautiful creature?
My hands slid over their head, tracing the ridges. I can tell from the feeling that they are, in fact, Prakibak’s child. Could I deduce their mother by touching their horn or snout? Or could I do it from the feeling of this tongue deep within me?
I had felt Prakibak before, but this is different. It takes them some time to find my spot, but once they do, their mewling growls rise higher and higher, attacking me. Their teeth rub against my pelvis, which rocks against them, urging them forward.
Their eyes rolled back. They were a kobold possessed by the drive and the passion, and they wouldn’t end until I came.
It is a funny thing about many sexual encounters. For all that we scholars write about them, the minute of experience and the twitches here and there, it is an all-too-brief affair sometimes. Especially if doing so with a male who climaxes. We are all simple creatures and get tired after a while.
I came for Prastlerdai’s attentive actions perhaps three times before they finally pulled back, gasping and collapsing on the rock.
I composed myself and sat on my knees, petting them down the back. “I can see the newest generation is in good hands.”
With a murring growl, they smiled. I offered them a little something else as they lay there. Clasping their cheeks, I leaned in, pressing my nose to theirs and nuzzling.
That had them squealing and covering their horns.
“So cute,” I called them, climbing to a standing position, my legs wobbling. Luckily, I could conjure a root to support myself. I hope that didn’t make me look too matronly as I stood over the newcomer.
“You fascinate me,” I finally said, watching over their body sprawled. “I’ve met those who do not fit the gender binary in the aboveground, yet you are the first kobold among our people who have chosen that for yourself.
“I’m hardly the only one,” Prastlerdai finally said, pushing themselves up. Perhaps they, too, would have benefited from a walking stick.
I mulled that idea over for a bit. I wonder how many of my peers and elders would have chosen such a life for themselves if they had not had the rigid rules set forth generations ago by our ancestors.
I looked over myself and my trembling hand and perhaps questioned for the first time. Am I, Tik Tik, the epitome of what it means to be a female?
“A question for you, Prastlerdai,” I said, grasping my makeshift staff. “Would a wizard have the means to alter your form to how you see fit? Would you take it?”
Prastlerdai blinked and crossed their legs and arms, thinking deeply about that.
Finally, they responded, and what they said made me smile. “Wouldn’t it be better if I learned that magic myself?”
Perhaps there’s more chance to spread my ideas throughout the youth—immortality through memetics instead of genetics.