Zana, the wingless lava dragon

“Oh, well lookie here, a dragon. Good hunting, Scale-butt.”

You open your eyes and let out a sluggish yawn, one eye slowly trailing around the heated cavern space as you slowly awoke and became more aware.

You see you’re in your lair, a massive cavern like space filled with treasures that you have horded in your time. Unlike other dragons, hording gold and gems, you are a creature of different attraction – your treasures are those which were born from the forges, and while you enjoy fine detail you far enjoy function over form. Craftsmanship is everything to you, and you hoard only the best you can find, or the strangest that will interest you – including many fetish items of the old past, earning their place simply by surviving so long. This is your first lair, and you were proud of every inch of the volcanic cavern space – you had excavated it with your own claws, after all. Despite that, you can’t help but feel the vast space is lacking something...

The very walls had a faint orange glow, bathing your large body in a dim fiery light. Unlike most other dragons, you didn’t have wings – your evolution to volcanic climates providing you with 4 powerful arms instead, which aided you in tunnelling out passageways to create your maze of a den. They also came in handy when making traps or diverting lava flows for natural defences.

You were only 20 foot tall, often being mistaken for an overgrown Drake (a factor that your lack of wings did not help alleviate), but as your mottled steel-grey and bronze scales glinted in the ambient lighting, you didn’t mind it. If anything, it meant you were underestimated, allowing you to get the upper hand.

As you sat up, your tail reached for a relic of an item – a bronze plate you’d shined to perfection – and you look at your magnificent reflection in the shining surface. Long, straight platinum blond hair falls to just below your shoulders, each shining like a strand of starlight. Your arms look more human than most, despite being covered in metallic scales ending in obsidian black claws. From the waist down you seemed to lean more reptilian, powerful draconic thighs and calves from your time climbing and digging ending with large opposable clawed feet. A long tail – almost half your height in its own length – emerges from just above your beauty of an ass, plump to caress, but satisfyingly firm to spank. Down your spine, small ridges of steely-grey seem to glow with veins of fire from within. These would flare up if you were aggravated or in a substantially heated climate such as this and was the first warning against any would-be predators. You especially love how soft and comfy your giant breasts are... beautifully bare of scales to show off your lightly tanned skin, and both a prideful K cup that have orange and tempting nipples that were easily teased into an erect state. Between your legs, however, is your front tail. Last you checked, the slim but ribbed appendage was roughly 25 inches, and currently throbbing with morning wood. The proportionally large balls under it throb in agreement. A good sized set for someone considered a runt at a young age – about an inch for each foot in hight, plus a few you thanked your draconic heritage for.

Taking your mind away from your body, you turn your attention to curing what currently ailed you – that achingly needy morning wood. You could try hunting in the ruins, the volcanic cliffs, or venture to the nearby forests – though it’d take a bit longer to trek there.