The dragon pressed its snout through the hole in the roof, nudging the edges wider, its tongue — a thick, gelatinous appendage — lolling out and dripping slime onto the floor. Bella shrieked, pulling the silk nightgown tight against her body, covering her belly and chest with her arms.
"RUSTY! Bad! Down! DOWN!"
The slime-dragon didn't listen. It never listened. It was too happy.
I stood from the bed. Naked. My cock — still half-hard from earlier — swung between my thighs as I walked to the window. My tail flicked behind me, and I reached up, patting Rusty's snout. The surface was cool, viscous, yielding under my palm. It rippled at my touch, and the dragon made a sound — not a roar this time, but a low, rumbling purr that vibrated through the floorboards.
"Good boy," I murmured. "You got big."
Rusty's tail wagged harder. A chunk of roof tile fell.
