Dragonsapien by Jon Jacks

Celly were, the angrier she would be.
    The more they
laughed, the louder the furious clattering.
    Still, Celly was
recovering quickly under Mrs Frobisher’s more expert
care.
    This consisted
of frequent, firm massages while Celly was in both her transformed
and untransformed states. Her back, in particular, was firmly
kneaded regularly, but Mrs Frobisher also squeezed and rubbed her
chest, stomach, neck and sides. Now and again, she would also
aggressively bend and twist Celly’s limbs in frog-like moves,
though Jake began to suspect that this was more punishment than
treatment.
    At last, though,
Celly began to sense that strength and capability was returning to
her lungs. She could once again break the air down into its
separate elements, once again force those separated constitutes
into every extended area of her body, controlling the pressure,
altering her skin’s consistency, her muscles’ power or
mass.
    ‘So…’ Jake began
tentatively one day, as they lay alongside each other on the sand
by the water’s edge, ‘all this splitting up of the air; would I be
right in assuming that that’s how dragons used to produce flame?
Providing, of course, that it isn’t just a myth that they could
breathe fire.’
    ‘It’s true, yes;
and yes, it was through using the separated elements. They’d just
force it out through their mouths rather than around their
body.’
    ‘Then you could
do that?’ Jake said in amazement. ‘Breathe fire?’
    ‘Like you could
just start leaping around in the trees using your feet and your
tail to cling onto the branches, right? We have evolved,
remember? So, no, we can’t produce the chemicals that would have
ignited the gases.’
    Jake lightly and
playfully ran a single finger along Celly’s bared stomach. She
shivered, giggled.
    ‘That
tickles!’
    ‘So…’ Jake said,
frowning thoughtfully, ‘what else is different from you and those
old dragons in the legends? Eggs; do you lay eggs?’
    ‘Eggs?’ Celly
chuckled uneasily. ‘That would be disgusting, wouldn’t it,
don’t you think?’
    ‘Hmn, yeah, I
suppose it would.’
    ‘How do you
think I could lay an egg ?’ Celly sounded a little
annoyed.
    ‘Well, I read
once, I think, that a dragon’s egg might be quite small. It would
grow in a pouch; you know, a bit like a kangaroo’s
pouch.’
    ‘What? Now
you’re saying I might have a kangaroo’s pouch?’
    She gave him a
light-hearted jab with an elbow.
    Jake chuckled,
lightly running his finger over her smooth stomach once
more.
    ‘It wouldn’t be
really possible now anyway, I suppose. Not with you being more
human than dragon.’
    Celly turned
slightly to look more directly into his eyes as she asked,
expectantly, ‘Is that how you think of me, Jake? As more human than
dragon?’
    ‘Yes; yes, of
course I do’ he replied honestly. ‘When you’re like this, well,
you’re perfectly human.’
    ‘Perfectly?
Am…am I beautiful, Jake?’
    ‘Beautiful?’
    He bent his head
down towards hers, brought his lips to hers.
    He kissed her
delicately, softly.
    He let the
contours of his lips mould with hers.
    And she knew his
answer.
     
     
    *
     
     
    When he touched
her like this, his fingers, his hands, running everywhere about her
body – where her body rose, where it fell, where one set of her
curves merged into others – she realised, strangely, her own
beauty, her own shape.
    She only became
fully aware of her back, of its many arcs and angles, its
depressions and its rising, when he caressed her like this. She had
only ever seen it, twisted and ungainly, when she tried to see it
in a mirror. Now, although she couldn’t see it, she knew its every
curve. His touch made her skin tingle, made her gasp with pleasure,
as if she herself were the one doing the feeling, the sensing, as
if her skin, her body, at last appreciated her attention, her
interest.
    Her neck, too,
under his touch, his kisses, even, yes, his heated breath, became
an area of uncountable excitable