(This commission was described to me as being about a guy who transforms himself into a dragon to take advantage of services provided by those who collect- and profit from- the cum of various magical creatures.)

The transformation goes as planned, at least for the most part. The meadow near his house is plenty large enough to accomadate his new scale-covered body, although he does set fire to some of the bushes when he coughs and emits a jetstream of blue flame. The change is more painful than he thought it would be, sort of like growing pains (haha) but worse. It's over quickly enough, though, and soon he's getting the hang of walking and moving his wings. He's pleased to see that his scales are a dark red, exactly like his hair. He lets out a loud roar and admires himself, craning his neck to check out his massive leathery wings. Thankfully he's so far out in the country that no one sees any of this. The spell he's used isn't exactly... well, legal. If it was, the money he's about to make wouldn't exist. Feeling proud of himself and smug about his own abilities, he adjusts his wings, does a few test-flights around the area, and then takes off. Heads for the mountains, and the massive castle housed within them.

He's never been here before, so he isn't quite sure what to expect. They must get regular visitors though, because the second time he circles the massive castle he spots a kind of landing platform. A woman in robes waves a torch to guide him in. He lands, enjoying the way the cloth whips around her legs in his own personal storm. If everyone here is this hot he won't have any problems at all. The spell will last until he decides to remove it, so he's feeling confident, even a little cocky. The woman approaches him with appropriate caution. He decides to play it up a bit. Snorts, stamps his massive feet, and stares at her with one plate-sized amber eye.
"Welcome," she says in a pleasant, warm tone. "Please, come this way."
He follows her into a massive hall, which has clearly been built to house others of his size. Still getting used to his height, he clonks a chandelier and accidentally lets out a bit of flame in surprise. The woman seems startled, backs off with her hands raised.
"Easy, now," she soothes. He groans deep in his chest, lowers his huge head to peer at her again. She touches his snout, pets it. "Poor thing. You must be so uncomfortable. Let me show you to your room."
She leads him further into the castle, past rooms where other beasts are lounging or writhing in various states of pleasure. He can't see exactly what's happening to them, but the language of sex is mostly universal. Panting breath, warm clouds of steam from open mouths, and- best of all- HUNDREDS of nubile women in various states of undress, all tending to the creatures housed here. He feels a little ripple of excitement and- again- smug pride. No one suspects anything. They take a turn that's tight for him but of course easy for her, and wind up in a very large room draped in gold and amber banners. There's a huge mound of pillows in the center. He saunters over, lies down on them. They handle his weight nicely. Comfortable, he watches the woman as she wanders around the room.
It takes her a while to set up. At one point, several other women come in and assist her with some kind of wooden apparatus that looks kind of like the mounting bars the men in town use for their stallions. He's a little disappointed. Is that all they're going to do? Have him hop up there and cum in a cup? More like a barrel, in this body. Dragons can't laugh but he finds he can make a kind of chuckle that resonates deep inside his chest. The women must be able to feel it too, because they shiver and grin back at him. The woman who led him here approaches, removes her robe. She's naked underneath, has wonderful round hips that only the well-fed sport. She lets her blond hair flow around her shoulders.
"My lord," she purrs. He lowers his face to look more closely at her. "I hope everything is to your liking. Would you like some wine?"
He's never been one for drink. He snorts in a way he hopes conveys 'no'. She gets it, leans in to kiss the scales around his nose. He has no lips, of course, but he extends his tongue and finds that it's more than long enough to wrap around her face and neck. She moans and kisses him again. "Of course, my lord. Soon."
She backs away, moving her hips side to side in a kinbd of dance. She signals to the other women, about ten of them, and they all shuck their robes and approach him. The unease of being caught is mostly gone now, but this body is unfamiliar and he realizes he has no idea where- or what- his dick is. He tries to lie on his back like a dog but his wings get in the way. His legs are too short to lift high up, and he can't stand on the back ones. Sensing his confusion, the woman he's starting thinking of as The Blonde moves to reassure him. Strokes his side. He can feel it, which he wasn't expecting. His scales transmit touch, although not as well as skin. Mostly pressure, which he finds enjoyable.
"If you're ready, my lord..." The Blonde says. He tilts his head to give her a look, makes a rumbling noise. The other women gather around him and their hands all descend at once. Two stroke the sides of his face, massaging the huge jaws. Others rub his sides, his legs, the joints of his wings. They're tiny compared to him but their hands are still skilled, pleasant. He never expected to be able to feel so much. He always figured dragons were unfeeling, cruel beasts. But it seems they're more vulnerable to the wiles of women than he would ever have suspected. He leans into their collective touch, nuzzles his face into their hands. He has small whiskers along his mouth that, when stroked, make his lips curl. One of the women kisses his huge eye tooth. It's... pretty hot, actually. He opens his huge jaws wider. Two, then three women start stroking his teeth, kissing them, massaging the gums. Dragons might not have hands to stroke or soft places to dance eyelashes along but they're sensitive in other ways. Overall, it's a good start. But he's more excited about what's to come.
The Blonde retreats after a few minutes, goes to a table lined with things in flasks and cauldrons. She takes one of the smaller flasks and brings it to him.
"May I?" she asks. He tilts his open mouth to her. She pours the blue liquid in, and he swallows. It burns like alcohol but is less... acidic. Pleasant. Warm. Almost instantly, he feels a kind of fog descend on him. The edges of the room grow blurry. Somewhere under the layers of scale and hide and bone his heart starts to beat faster. He tries to get up but can't. He starts to panic. He can't control anything, it's like he's drunk. The Blonde steps in as the other women scurry away.
"Shhh," she soothes, reaching out for him. "Only something to make our ministrations better, my lord."
He calms himself, reminds himself that while they might not suspect him he IS still a fraud and the punishment for what he's doing is a life in the bowels of the palace prison. He pulls himself together. The calmer he gets the more the feeling starts to be pleasurable. He leans back into the pillows.
"If we may?" The Blonde asks. She gestures at the women, who are waiting to be called back. He rumbles an affirmative.
This time, they seem to move in unison, coordinated. One of the women climbs up the mountain of pillows to his face. Presents herself to him by turning and wiggling her very ample bottom. His tongue snakes out and touches her sex. She's warm. Maybe she took some of the strange blue potion too. She moans in a very genuine way. How do they find these women, he wonders? What must the job description be? He laughs to himself, and the vibration must travel up his long tongue and into her because she giggles and cries out a little.
As this is happening, he's dimly aware of something being done to his lower belly. He doesn't recognize it at first because it's not where his human dick would be, but it feels fantastic. He stops licking to glance down and almost loses it. There's something sticking out of him, something blood-red and pointed. He startles, sending the women scattering like birds. Is... is that his dick??? It's scaled, but the scales are soft-looking and flexible. It's... gross. He stops looking at it and goes back to the woman at his head. His tongue is VERY flexible, he's pleased to note. He brings one large foot, or hand since it's up front, closer to the woman he's pleasuring. She gets it and he doesn't have to try to explain. She lies on her back, lets him put one talon-tipped toe on her belly. It's all he can fit on her without fear of killing her. He snakes his tongue back between her legs, licks, then forces it inside her. She takes it easily, and he does everything possible not to hurt her. She loves it, though, cums quickly and then again, and he fucks her with his tongue with gusto. He's dimly aware of the rest of the women playing with his dick, but he has to admit it's a little underwhelming. It sort of feels like sex with a condom on. Good, but boring. Then The Blonde gets his attention from down near his chest. He glances at her.
"Please, stand." She motions him up. A little annoyed, he stops tongue-fucking the by now completely spent girl and gets to his feet. The potion has settled in and he feels more balanced now. With help from the others, The Blonde wheels over the massive mounting bar. He's seen enough stallions get worked over to know how to position himself. But he's too big. He only gets his front feet over the bar. The rest of him sits down awkwardly. The Blonde shakes her head.
"No no, like this." She guides him with her hands. He gets up, backs off the bar. Circles around it until his back is to it. Confused, he makes an angry sound. "Please, just a bit longer." The Blonde guides him back. He's happy to note that it takes four of the women to handle the size of his penis. Gently, they bring it back between his legs and over the bar so that his haunches are sitting on the bar and his dick is behind and over it. It doesn't hurt at all, and although he can't see what's happening he's surprised to find that what he saw earlier was only the tip. Based on feeling alone, the entire thing must be at least four feet in length. Dragons can't smile but he raises his lips in what he hopes is an approximation.
"There. Now, my lord, if we may..." The Blonde purrs.
Everything seems to happen at once. Suddenly there's a BURST of sensation in his cock. As if the entire thing has been wrapped in a warm, pulsing sleeve. He cranes his neck around. All of the women are working together; their hands glow with some kind of magic, and they're using it on him. The feeling is indescribable. As if someone has turned the knob up to Max. He has never felt pleasure like this. Something wet splatters the floor.
"Angelique! Please!" The Blonde says, irritated. Someone apologizes and trots over to the table. Retrieves a large flask. Pre-cum, he realizes. They must use that too. He feels the mouth of the flask get pressed against the tip, and even this feels fantastic. Every finger, every palm pressed against his cock is magnified a thousand-fold. His legs shake and he finds himself grateful for the bar because suddenly he can't hold up his own weight. His front legs collapse and his head lolls forward. He gives up, rests it on the ground, tongue out. The women are moving slow, steady, not trying to get him to cum yet but milking him for his pre-cum. They giggle, moan, compliment his size and color. The Blonde reappears at his face. His tongue is lolling out, his open eye swivels to watch her. She smiles at him, kisses his snout. Then climbs onto it and starts grinding against his scales.
"My only regret in this line of work," she says, rocking her hips. "That I am not big enough myself to satisfy you alone..." He watches her hungrily, his cock is throbbing and he can't remember ever feeling this kind of building-up. Not even with his first love, who he took behind the pub after the solstice. His breath is so hot it steams, making little dew drops on The Blonde's bare skin. She massages her breasts, pulls on her hard nipples. Maybe she's a mind reader- she does everything he would were he able. It's almost too much. The magic around his cock pulses, works up and down the length, sends little waves of electricity into his legs. It goes on for what feels like an eternity. The pressure in his gut builds until he feels like he might lose his mind. It's good, TOO good, if they keep this up-
"Miss! It's full!" Someone calls. The Blonde doesn't take her eyes off him but answers:
"Then give the poor creature what he wants. Don't torture him any longer."
"Yes, ma'am!" The little voice calls back.
He's already high on the sensation but now it doubles and he can feel his mind slip. This is too much. Too good. The magic is warm and wet and it's as if he's buried in something tight and hot and begging for his cum. The bar prevents him from moving and now he sees why. Left to his own devices, he'd put a hole in the floor. He lets out deep rumbling groans, little sparks shoot from between his teeth. The Blonde grinds on him faster, she presses her lips to his scales and wraps her arms around his snout. Reaches into his mouth and holds onto one of his teeth. The sounds she's making are genuine, and it only drives him more mad. His breath explodes out of him in showers of sparks and smoke, and the women move their hands faster, squeezing the scales and working the magic up and down him. Begging him for what he knows is going to happen soon, soon-
"My lord, please..." The Blonde whispers. Her face pressed against him, her eyes hazy. "Please!"
He lets out a ROAR, a jet of fire, and then-!
The magic around him swells, containing what feels like the river of magma-hot cum that jets out in wave after wave of blinding ecstasy. The women all cry out, egging him on, working the magic and milking out every single drop. It lasts and lasts and it takes him eons to stop. When it's over, he's utterly spent. One of the women runs, wheels over some kind of large cauldron. There's the sound of liquid pouring into it. And then, the magic tightens and starts stroking again. Dragons must have no refractionary period, because to his astonishment he finds himself getting hard again, climbing back up that mountain of pleasure he just summited. He growls, but The Blonde soothes him. Strokes his face like a lover. Looks him deep in the eyes.
"I'm afraid we're not quite done with you yet."
They keep at it for hours, long after dark descends upon the castle. Every time he thinks he's finished, that he can't possibly cum anymore, the magic gets stronger and he finds himself on the edge again and again. One, two, three, four, he loses count. The women are seemingly inexhaustible, and clearly take pleasure in their work. They call him pet names, kiss the length of his cock. The Blonde stays with him, touching his face and teeth and reveling in the attention. It's not until early the next morning that they finally stop. The women collectively use their magic to raise him up enough to remove the bar. He stumbles, collapses in a heap on the mountain of pillows. One eye cracked, he watches them take their leave. The Blonde sits with him, pets his snout.
"Rest, my lord. You've done so well. And provided us with so much!"
She keeps him company until he falls asleep. When he wakes up, he's alone. There's a note at his feet that he has to squint to read.
"Please take your time. When you're ready, go out the door and left. We hope to see you again soon!"
Thank God this spell is easy to cast, he thinks. For this, he'll sign up any time.