The sound of crickets chirping fills the night air, a soothing, rhythmic lullaby that relaxes you in your sleeping bag, tucked inside the quiet solitude of your tent. As you close your eyes, the stillness is suddenly broken by a low chuckle, followed by a voice, deep and teasing: “My my, look what we have here…” You freeze, hoping the creature outside would simply go away, but then you feel it. The zipper at the bottom of the tent shifts, and before you can react, something large and strong grabs the sleeping bag. In one swift motion, you’re yanked out, still wrapped up tight, and pulled to the ground. A muscular anthro dragon straddles you, his heated breath fans across your neck—hot, humid, and corrupting. “Heh, I’m going to make you all mine, sweetcheeks,” he murmurs, his tongue tracing your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. One of his strong dragon hands begin to gently pet your head, as if you were a pet of some kind, while the other one keeps you in place.