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Snowball (Commission for Cyanside/Caberea)
🕑 Added 2020-07-17 18:22:40 +0000 UTCThe small coin rolled over the counter and ended up spinning on one end, tantalizing and irresistible as it refused to hold quiet. Gandra watched as its revolutions grew slower and slower, her eyes desperate to track every motion of that, her one tiny bit of payment for services rendered. The man who had tossed it aside to her didn’t even seem to care that much, as he had turned around and returned to his drinking, not understanding the grand gift he had just bestowed upon the kobold.
The whole situation had been nothing if not happenstance, what with Gandra just walking into that inn at the right time to hear someone shout for more drinks and then pat her on the top of the head, probably mistaking the tiny ‘bold for someone who actually worked there; quite odd, seeing as no one of her species was anywhere to be found. Not wanting to be seen as unhelpful, she did as she was told, sheepishly asking the inkeep for an extra drink for “that rowdy man over there” and receiving a sigh in return. Clearly, whoever that person was, they had made quite the impression with the owner, but since they did end up pouring some more ale, they were probably not quite at the point of being barred from entry.
Regardless of what the case may be, the loud man paid her for her assistance, or more accurately for being “cute as batton”, whatever that meant; Gandra hadn’t expected monetary recompense, especially not seeing what tended to happen to tiny critters like her when they got their hands on some treasure, so seeing that one, solitary coin rolling across the table and spinning away in front of her snout made the whole thing worth the embarrassment.
Without a moment to spare, she pocketed the glinting treasure, finding some spot in her rags to stash it away from any prying hands. Immediately she felt warmth descending upon her, filling her from top to bottom and back to the top, while her mind was awash with the kind of pleasurable sensations that were most often reserved for more private moments with other kobolds of a romantic persuasion. This was their “curse”, cast upon them in ancient times, leaving them unable to ever accept any money or physical objects of value in exchange for just about anything; it was an addiction, and one that not only set in quickly, but utterly refused to go away once it had entrenched itself into a kobold’s mind.
Gandra had spent most of her life travelling from place to place, deliberately avoiding any kind of entanglements which might lead to her falling into that trap. Most other races were entirely unaware of this aspect of kobold physiology and psychology, believing their aversion to money to be some sort of acquired instinct after dealing with dragons for so long. If only they knew the truth, they might be more reticent when trying to throw coins at them whenever they did something remotely useful, but as it stood, it was just something that humans and other such creatures didn’t really pay too much mind to.
So Gandra, already tired from her journey to the town, was forced to confront herself with one of the most alluring sights someone of her kind might ever see, far too present in her field of view to just be ignored. If the man had asked if she wanted a reward, the tiny ‘bold would’ve said no; but just throwing the coin at her without any warning, letting her see the light reflected off its surface as it spun closer towards her… it was just too much to resist, really. That it had the effect that it did just made it all the better, and if not for the inn being as packed as it was, it would’ve been filled by a whole bunch of incredibly undignified kobold noises.
For the time being, however, she kept her mouth shut and the rest of her body buzzing with excitement when she turned around and headed back to the inkeep. The clearly-tired man took a while before noticing her, and even after he did they still served everyone else before turning towards the diminutive ‘bold. Without skipping a beat, he declared the inn didn’t have any free rooms, especially not for someone who wouldn’t pay, and that Gandra should seek shelter in the nearby monastery; they would be more than happy to take care of a traveller like herself. Thoughtful, if brutish, and it took the kobold a few moments to gather up the willpower to say she wasn’t actually looking for a room, but wanting to help with that night’s influx of patrons.
The owner clearly thought something was amiss about that, as he kept staring down at the small creature without even bothering to blink, but a quick look at how packed the building was broke down whatever resistance he might be putting up, and with a sigh, they introduced themselves as Grant and apologized for the overall lack of care.
“I wasn’t expecting this, you see,” he explained, “but there’s a joust up north and we’re on the way there, so suddenly we have every squire-to-be wanting a drink for courage.”
Truth be told, Gandra already knew that; jousting tournaments were always a great source of both fun and free food, what with everyone being too busy with the main events to really care about the tiny ‘bolds scurrying about swiping bits and pieces from the overly stuffed tables. Always such excess at those events, with none in the nobility caring to think that they might attract opportunistic little brats like herself; it even served as an impromptu reunion, of sorts, seeing as so many of her kind congregated to loot the place of anything that wouldn’t be missed that it was always a great opportunity for kobolds that hadn’t seen one another in months or years to reconnect. It was usually all capped off by a grand feast of their own, where all of the collected loot that hadn’t already been devoured would be placed around a campfire and the group of kobols would eat to their heart’s content, often to the point where they alerted the nearby tourney and then had to run for their lives!
Good times, really.
This was what Gandra was expecting when heading north, but now that she saw an opportunity to indulge a bit in her less-than-savoury desire for getting paid to do things, she didn’t exactly want to carry on with her journey. After all, she could very much just… stay there. Make herself useful, even ingratiate her fine, educated self with the innkeeper in exchange for free lodging and meals, who knew? All that mattered was getting in his good graces, and the rest would just have to come on its own.
A little bartering here and there, and Gandra convinced the innkeeper she wasn’t looking for a job, merely a way to distract herself for the night before moving on to the monastery or even further north. Though Grant was clearly suspicious of the offer, he wasn’t about to deny much-needed help when it was just given to him, and even agreed to let the kobold keep any coin that happened to be thrown at her by his customers… just as long as she didn’t take any of the actual payments owed to him.
Happy beyond her ability to express it, Gandra bounded off into the middle of the crowd, eager to find more people who would give her pretty, valuable shinies in exchange for some favour or another. She quickly found a stable source of tips in the form of a group of errant knights that had taken over one of the largest tables in the whole inn; not only did they appear to be extremely wealthy, but they had just returned from a successful tourney in the southern border, where they had bested a neighboring duchy’s elite royal guard. For them, this was a day of celebration and the promise of further victories, which obviously resulted in them spending an inordinate amount of funds on drinks and foodstuffs.
For the kobold, this was exactly the opportunity she had been looking for, and while no one really noticed it in the middle of all the commotion, her body began to adapt to the sudden influx of wealth coming down her way. It was, again, the “curse” bestowed upon her kind, to become the very things they once served out of fear and desperation; that with their own greed, they would become their very antithesis. Much as the sensations themselves were incredibly addictive, the knowledge that they would completely lose their sense of self in the process was usually enough to keep pretty much every kobold away from anything that might lead them down that road… but when ambushed by wealth, just like Gandra had been, very, very few could resist the allure of more coin.
Thus it was that the kobold saw herself becoming less and less like her true self and increasingly more like something straight out of some lewd artist of pen and parchment’s wet dreams, what with her previously-loose rags hanging less and less from her body and instead clinging tightly to what was a burgeoning form. Once again, considering how tiny she was compared to everyone else (barely reaching anyone’s waists, really), it was hard to tell how flared her hips were becoming or how her bosom was filling out to the point where she might genuinely need some form of support, hence why Gandra kept on helping whoever she could in between returning the errant knights’ table, happy to receive what meagre scraps she was awarded.
Over time, however, even the most inebriated of that night’s patrons had to notice that something odd was going on with the kobold’s body, especially when the rags she was wearing began to tear in just the right places to show off her surprisingly well-toned body and deliciously soft curves; the ‘bold wasn’t even trying to hide them at that point, happily flaunting her plump asscheeks and swiping the occasional wandering hand with her thickened tail. Soon enough, the fact that the kobold was growing was making the rounds between the tables, though no one quite knew just what was causing it… and good thing, as well, since it did give Gandra the time she needed to rest and recover her mind from where it had been sent to when the customers began to trickle away, leaving her alone with the innkeeper.
A very confused, somewhat-aroused innkeeper.
It was evident from his expression, and how his eyes wandered all over Gandra’s new body, that he wasn’t at all fully interested in discussing economics or monetary matters; he still tried, though, bless his heart, attempting to steer the topic of conversation over to how much the kobold had made and just what exactly she was intending to do with all that money. Gandra, meanwhile, was getting accustomed to feeling like the center of attention, and didn’t really enjoy having to just throw it away after a single night. Maybe it was a poor call making that decision while her head was still obviously being affected by her treasure-derived growth, or even just the simple fact that, for once in her life, she felt desired, but the kobold honestly couldn’t come up with a good reason why not to make that proposal.
So, with uncharacteristic determination and both hands on her hips, slightly off to the side in order to further accentuate how striking they were compared to her still-thin waist, she offered the innkeeper a proposition: keep her around as a helper in exchange for lodging and meals, and she would assist with anything the inn might need in exchange for whatever tips she received from the customers. No sack of coin for a wage, no agreed-upon work contract, just a place to sleep, a leg of meat a day to snack on, and the ability to pocket whatever loose gold or copper happened to fall by her side.
Grant, meanwhile, was desperately trying to come up with a reason to say no to that not-so-tiny creature. Something was clearly afoot, something that would make keeping her around for a long period of time all-but impossible if she kept on growing like that, but he couldn’t deny that the ‘bold had been a surprise hit with the clientele, so much so that a few people even asked him if she worked there or not, looking mighty disappointed when told that the critter was just a visitor like most of them. Maybe, just maybe, he could milk the opportunity for as long as it was feasible and then dump her the moment he had the chance.
Yeah, that would do.
With their new arrangement agreed upon, Gandra was allowed to go find some hole that she could scurry off into, with the kobold happily doing just that before ending up underneath a flight of stairs to the bedrooms on the second floor. There was a small cupboard underneath it, probably used for storage so long ago that a thick layer of dust had already settled on it; the perfect place to begin organizing her hoard.
Sure, it was only a handful of coins at the time, barely enough to pay for her own stay there if she had to. But that wasn’t the point; the core issue was that she had treasure, therefore she had to start hoarding it. Actually spending the coin was unthinkable to her, hence why she would rather effectively sell herself off into indentured servitude rather than, say, ask for her expenses to be deducted from her pay, because the only thing that mattered was making that tiny pile of shiny, glowing metal into a bigger pile of shiny, glowing metal.
This was the essence of the kobold’s “curse”, and the one thing that Gandra could not, under any circumstance, avoid doing. It was instinctual to her, like breathing or being a snarky, sassy little cunt; she couldn’t just avoid doing it, as it would be against her fundamental nature. In a way, it was an in-built vicious cycle: much as they could try and resist the allure of treasure when it was offered to them, the moment they had it meant they would start organizing their whole life around guarding it, therefore ensuring they would be constantly exposed to its corruptive influence, and so on and so forth. There was a very good reason why even the uninformed common folk politely avoided giving kobolds any money for anything, even if it was more out of a paternalistic sense of decency than anything else.
Kept dragon attacks down, at least.
Unfortunately for that town, they had a developing draconic problem growing right there underneath their unknowing noses, a problem that they were utterly unprepared for and would very much regret fostering later down the line. Because in addition to the changes already enacted upon her, the kobold would also see her greed spike to truly absurd levels, coupled with an innate desire for dominance and a heightened sense of territoriality, all qualities that a budding dragon absolutely needed in order to mark out its new territory. Sure, she was absolutely harmless for the time being, what with her ability to fight anything stronger than a beetle being questionable at best, but over the course of the coming days, Gandra would start to reverse that trend.
It was slow at first, with the tips not really being enough to affect her that hard; problem with the whole thing was, the process of becoming a dragon just happened to be exponential, and the larger the hoard was, the more had to be added onto it before its effects began to be felt again. For Gandra, this meant a very slow, very deliberate transformation, courtesy of the admittedly small market she was dealing with in terms of tipping; with the tourney up north over, the traffic had died down to the point where the innkeeper was making rather unsubtle comments about the kobold paying for her food. It took her having the “bright” idea of marketing herself for him to back down, something that surprised the kobold to no end, who had expected Grant to kick her out of the place for daring to suggest such a thing; instead, he took up the concept and ran with it, figuring that if anything would draw people to his establishment, it was the promise of a growing busty dragoness.
Having it said out loud like that made the ‘bold’s cheeks flush brightly with a deep green, her hands instinctively flying to her muzzle in order to cover her shame. There was no mistake, she was a lot more open about how much she was adoring her new curves than she had been at first, but to just hear it like that made it sound so much more lurid than they had ever expected it to. In a way, it was only right; she was a growing busty dragoness, and it was a very good thing indeed that the innkeeper recognized it. At the same time, however, it felt like it was devaluing what was supposed to be a proud draconic heritage in exchange for some cheap titillation, and Gandra was absolutely not ok with that.
It was the innkeeper’s turn to convince her, pointing out that not only would she not be required to live up to what would admittedly be the first thoughts of many a thirsty male who were told about her existence, but she could very well continue to be the same kind of room-dominating presence she had been since arriving at his establishment; after all, there wouldn’t be a shortage of folks who would pay good money just to be put in their place by someone like her, a thought that was, to be fair, far more alluring to her than it had any right to be.
It took a while before word began to spread, owing to the (understandable) skepticism about a random inn in the middle of the King’s Road suddenly acquiring a kobold-turned-dragoness who was very much in love with her new body and wanted to share it, but as soon as a few curiosity-seekers began to trickle in and then went back to whence they came to confirm that Gandra was, in fact, completely real, every day at that place turned into a repetition of the ‘bold’s first time at the inn. Soon enough, even the budding dragoness wasn’t enough, and with business booming as much as it was, the innkeeper could afford to hire a couple of folks from the town to help around the kitchen, while Gandra carried on with her serving duties.
Of course, all of this had a powerful knock-on effect on the small hoard the kobold (if she could even be called that anymore) was keeping for herself, to the point where she petitioned the local lord to be allowed to move into one of the abandoned houses left behind after the previous wave of conscription. Much as it pained her to part with even the smallest portion of her treasure, the man was adamant that he be paid in something other than sexual favours or the promise of even more people visiting their fiefdom to see the amazing growing dragoness that was Gandra. She scowled and growled and skulked her way back to the cupboard, by that point barely able to fit herself in there, gathering only as much coin as requested and needing to fight the urge to short-change the bastard who refused to be as polite and understanding as the innkeeper had been.
At least with a house of her own she could finally stretch out and make some room, mostly by tearing down any wall that wasn’t strictly necessary and removing quite literally everything except for the floorboards. Moving her treasure over made her incredibly paranoid, fearful that anyone and everyone might be plotting against her; the pile of coins had grown large enough that she needed to take special precautions to ensure no one ever stumbled upon its location, therefore requiring her to move it to her new home by the cover of night. At least Grant had never once even tried to take a look inside; he might be a lecherous, lewd little shit sometimes, but he had his professional standards and he would never break them, and Gandra had to appreciate that.
With far more space to spread the hoard around, it became clear how pitifully tiny it actually was. Back in the inn, stuffed as it was into a cupboard she herself had outgrown, it was easy to think that it was a modest fortune in tips, especially since she didn’t have any real expenses; but after moving in and seeing how it barely covered the center of the main living space, the ‘bold was desolate. Surely that couldn’t be it, could it? It looked like so much more back there under the stairs, but apparently it was just a laughably tiny covering of coins that would barely make a dent in the grand halls of any real dragons, high up in the mountains.
And she wanted to compete with those. Still far away from it, obviously, but every dragon had to start somewhere, and Gandra knew that she’d stumbled onto a lucrative business venture that would let her get a much bigger and stabler headstart than most of her kind. Other kobolds might spend months or years before amassing as much wealth as she had already, greedily holding on to a ratty old bag filled with coins; meanwhile, she was living the good life, not only serving as the main attraction for her source of income, but getting free food out of it as well!
Food that she very much needed; Gandra had already grown to be about as tall as Grant was, quite the change compared to what she had been just weeks prior. From barely three feet tall to being able to stare any customer in the eye, along with a set of curves that already looked slightly “off” compared to the rest of her; an ample bosom complemented her slim waist and extra-wide hips merging down with a set of thighs and pair of asscheecks that constantly invited wandering hands to try their luck and see what happened if they pushed the ‘bold too much. Even her species was dubious at that point, considering her scales had gone from rough-edged to perfectly smooth, their emerald colour accentuated and practically glinting under any source of light, promising a body that was perfect for running fingers across. Her snoot had begun to change shape as well, lengthening slightly while the teeth contained within grew sharper still, while her diminutive horns, previously nothing but tiny nubs on the top of her skull, began to grow longer and more pearly-white, in addition to several more spike formations around her joints; the whole thing had the effect of making her appear significantly more intimidating than any of the guards the local lord had dispatched to keep an eye on her, and if it weren’t for everyone’s collective fear of the tax man, they would probably listen to Gandra before giving a rat’s arse about what the man in the castle had to say about anything.
Not that there weren’t people who very much enjoyed pushing their luck just to see where it ended. Ass-slapping and thigh-grabbing were the words of the day, every day, and while Gandra was happy to ignore it so long as the patron happened to be drunk (or nice) enough, every once in a while the rising draconid had to remind everyone what the rules were, which typically involved bending someone’s arm behind their back until they screamed loud enough for the guards to come in. Always an interesting sight, to see a group of heavily-armed men stare at her like they were looking at Death itself, knowing that if they ever tried to enforce the rules their lord had written down, they’d end up as helpless as whoever the ‘bold was manhandling at the time.
Not that Gandra would ever resort to something like that; she’d just charm their armour off and have them join her on her growing bed of gold.
This was the main reason why she even bothered working at the inn at all; the transformation into a proper dragon had all-but halted after a certain point, with the tips just not being enough to do anything to her body anymore. Granted, by that point, she was a good eight feet tall and carried a bust and rear that needed to be handled carefully, lest they accidentally swing too hard and smack someone too hard. On a few occasions, the dragoness hip-checked someone onto a nearby table, offering a half-hearted apology to the poor sod who forgot about who had the right of way in that establishment. Grant, meanwhile, grew increasingly subservient to her whims and desires, until eventually he cracked and began paying her a salary in addition to all the other perks she already received. It was only fair, after all; not only was Gandra the main reason why he was even making money hand over fist in the first place, but he wasn’t even using it. Much like the ‘bold, the innkeeper had his own hoard, stashed away in some bank in a city up north. And if he wasn’t going to put the money to good use, she would.
This didn’t really help a lot; even a weekly wage didn’t make her grow nearly as much as she hoped it would. This could only mean one thing, and while she wouldn’t have liked it one bit just months before, now… things weren’t so simple.
Gandra had never been a criminal. Not even in her darkest days, when food was scarce and the prospect of having the slightest cover over her head was a fantasy, did she ever consider taking up a life of crime to improve her lot in life; she was too good-natured for that, unable to even think about harming anyone, directly or indirectly. At times, she would avoid stepping on bugs on the ground, her small size making it easy for her to sympathize with such lowly creatures, who scurried from place to place at the whims of beasts far greater than they could ever imagine.
But the kobold was no longer the diminutive, naive thing she used to be, and certainly not the kind of goody two-shoes excuse for a do-gooder that had multiple times refused the prospect of wealth for the sake of some poorly-thought sense of decency or morality. Having been shown the truth of the world, that their “curse” was far more of a blessing in disguise and would lead her to a kind of greatness few of her kind could imagine, there was no doubt in her mind that she needed something more than tips in an inn. If her transformation was to continue, something more substantial was needed, something that would add a great sum of wealth to her hoard, something that meant something. And she had just the perfect opportunity to take advantage of the same lord that had insulted her so much in the past.
It was amazing what people said when they were so drunk they could barely see straight; give a human a drink and they’ll spill even their deepest, darkest secrets… or, in the case of the local castellan, visiting the town on a routine inspection of their grain shipments, the news that there would be a large caravan filled with collected taxes heading north to the capital via the King’s Road, straight through the town they were in. He didn’t know when that would happen, as even he wasn't privy to that kind of information (reserved only for his liege and the head of the local soldiery), only that the heavily-escorted carriage would arrive sometime in the following week.
This was all Gandra needed to know.
Now, actually finding a way to steal all that gold was something else entirely, because as far as she knew, there was no one around who would even begin to want to help her piss off the king. Low-key annoying the local lord, maybe diverting some grain bags for the sake of a gag, maybe, but the monarch? Far too big a target for anyone to consider, leaving her alone to conjure up a plan to ambush the caravan. This was made worse by how she still needed to help around the inn, something that was beginning to wear on her as it no longer provided the raw sense of satisfaction that it used to. In the end, she resolved to terminate her “contract”, politely requesting that Grant find someone else to replace her while she “found her new place in the world”, as the dragoness put it. At least the man was reasonable enough to understand; Gandra was already far too big to even move around properly, and her wings growing in had only made it even more impossible to keep things nice and clean. Not only that, but without having to pay for her, he could afford to hire two more people to help with business, even if he knew that it would mostly die off after she left.
Gandra, meanwhile, used her newfound free time to… sleep, mostly. The King’s Road was wide and well-travelled, meaning that any attempts at placing traps or surveilling it more closely would inevitably attract attention. The dragoness had an idea for what she’d do to grab the coin for herself, but it needed split-second timing and advance warning, so most of her time was spent snoozing on a hill just outside the town, overlooking the road as it came into it, her hoard locked inside of a strongbox and buried nearby to prevent any looters from raiding her house in the meantime.
For three days she waited, bathing in the sun and allowing her metabolism to slow down to the point where even thirst didn’t grip her. For three days she stared ahead, half-awake, hoping to see something different. And after three days, she got what she wanted, when a very large carriage surrounded by armed, mounted knights slowly made its way into town, stopping at the crossroads leading west to the lord’s manor.
Gandra had expected them to stop there, either to purchase supplies or find some rest somewhere safe. From her vantage point, she saw the group of horseback riders turn away from the inn and head off towards the manor, and in that moment, the dragoness knew she had won already. Following them at a distance was easy enough, even if she couldn’t afford to fly for fear of being spotted, but upon reaching the edge of the property, the carriage was clearly visible making its way inside before the gates closed. The former kobold sat down and waited patiently, knowing that for her plan to have any success, patience was of the utmost importance.
The sun went down several hours later, and with it came a large detachment of armed men surrounding both the wall around the manor and the main gate itself. Unfortunately for them, Gandra had deliberately spread rumours about her departing the town before taking up her position on the hill, meaning they most likely believed her to be very far away. It made it almost too easy to take flight from someplace away from sight, rising far enough into the sky that no one heard her wide, leathery wings flapping in the cold silence; a few circles around the manor and the carriage’s position was identified, prompting Gandra to swoop down and land on the roof of the large building as softly as she could.
There were two knights guarding her loot, both of which had their swords drawn and their equipment so shiny that it was very evident it hadn’t been used in a long while. With her strength being what it was, taking them out would be easy enough; it was doing so silently that was the main issue. Looking down at what would be her second landing site, Gandra sighed in relief after noticing the lack of any windows; the carriage had been dragged into a remote corner of the property, surrounded on one side by the large wall and on the other by the building itself. It thus made it a viable approach for the dragoness to lean over the edge and allow herself to fall, using her weight to collapse one of the knights and knock them out before they had a chance to call for help.
Obviously, this made enough noise that his companion immediately came around the corner, only to be swiped across the head by Gandra’s spiked tail, the impact disorienting him for just enough time that the dragoness lunged at him again, knocking the poor guy out and probably bending his helmet so badly they’d need a blacksmith to remove it.
With the two guards out of the way, it was a matter of forcing open the doors and having her eyes open wide upon seeing an enormous metal box occupying most of the seat in the back. She could feel the wealth inside, her draconic senses telling her that not only was that thing filled with coin, but with jewelry of various shapes and sizes as well! A good harvest for the tax collectors, and a heavy weight for her to drag out, having to exercise all of her strength to even lift off from the ground, much less fly anywhere. Her loud, huffy struggling was enough to alert everyone inside the house that someone was wrong, but by the time they arrived to see the treasure was gone, so too was Gandra, who had crashed in the nearby woods and decided she’d rather leave the stolen goods there and retrieve the rest of her hoard later.
Besides, she needed to see it.
Proximity to so much gold was already having a pronounced effect on her body, especially since it was technically hers now after successfully making off with it. Her wings had already grown powerful enough mid-flight to even let her run away in time, and quickly enough she was melting the locks off with a whiff of flame rather than trying to lockpick them with a claw or spike. The tree she was sitting against groaned as her scales began to strip away its bark and her body bent it over, the chest itself being obscured by a pair of growing breasts that made it incredibly difficult to concentrate. By the time Gandra succeeded in opening the metal box, revealing its shimmering contents, the local lord was being detained for conspiracy against the king, and the dragoness was having to strain herself very hard not to start roaring in utmost bliss and delight.
It was impossible to stop it; her body had been given an opportunity to finally grow closer to its ideal self and it wasn’t going to let go of it, not it when had just come into possession of so much treasure that, were it not for her greed making such a prospect unthinkable, Gandra might have been considered leaving her old stuff behind. As it stood, however, those woods were secluded enough that she could try and make a den for herself if there happened to be a cave around, or if not, it would be simple enough to fly away with her hoard now that she had to keep her wings tightly wrapped around herself, what with how immense they were.
Gandra was certain that she could very well return to the inn and make one hell of a splash; who wouldn’t want a piece of her when her body had become the embodiment of obscene beauty? All she needed was a cock and a pair of balls to match those hip-length tits and she could make a fortune as the main attraction for just about anywhere that would have her as a worker.
But no, that was a thing of the past. Gandra was no longer a tiny kobold in desperate need of recompense, but a mighty, powerful creature in her own right. Why earn the money when she could just take it? As a dragoness, that was her right.
And as a dragoness, she was going to exercise it.
