Red Dragon

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The first was a teacher, a virgin to the World Second a monster, wearing a mask she abhor Now there's the third, the monster monsters fear above all Against his will, tricked by a familiar face, now given a call This year at Vereor Nox Acadeny is already a nightmare But what will come of it, under this dragon's cruel glare Is there more to him than meets the eye Or will we end wanting him to die. The souls that read this, tainted by its touch. The minds that had already been scored now return to the most recent tale of terror and debauchery. To those uninitiated, tread lightly for you enter hallowed ground of death and whorrror. Those of faint hearts and fragile minds, of pure soul, turn away now while you still can. As the name implies, fear the dark, revere that which lies hidden in its umbral embrace. (Rough Draft 1. PAUSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE)

Horror / Erotica
Age Rating:

Enter the Dragon

“Do I really need to go through this?” Francis grumbled, sitting with Eve in the back of her limousine. He never saw a cobalt blue limousine before until he met her. In fact, he never knew that there was a difference between a stretch limousine and a “regular” before, and even then he thought it was bull. The only difference between it and a regular car was a separator for the driver; what about backward-facing seats? Weren’t those supposed to be standard? Or a mini fridge? There wasn’t even that much more room in comparison. He still needed to curl his legs in, not as tight as a normal car but still.

Eve wasn’t listening, though. The drachen glared at her. His left eye twitched, those amber slivers growing as his pupils narrowed with each passing second she hummed, mulled, and swiped her French-tipped bronze digit on that touchscreen. Smoke rolled from his rugged lips; a growl soon followed, bubbled forth from his wide belly. He gritted his teeth, his four sets of canines nipping and ripping at his gums, too worn to give another ounce of blood; that’s what his back and arms were for. Four, harmonious squelches sung, his black dress-shirt ripped away by the winglike fins on his shoulder blades and lower arms. They had five digits each, ending in sharp, tapered pricks, with yellow membrane stretched in between, complementing his copper tone.

“Well!” He roared. The car, its glass- its metal shuddered under its weight. The springs squeaked, pushed down hard enough to hop as it rolled away, through the streets of Paradise, West Virginia. Though the cab was soundproof, he could see other people, the other fools that attended this place, that came to this waste of a town, stop and stare. The windows were smoked, but they had help. Francis was spewing more smoke than a chimney, his jagged mouth frothing with flames, singeing the four spikes that made his “beard” --but they never dared touch his sleek black hair. Nor its “awesome” white stripe. He had it up in a ponytail this day, but even then it reached the small of his back, tickling him, teasing him, irking him AS THE SECONDS WENT BY- “Hello! You in there?”

“Hmm?” She uttered, double-tapping on the phone. He knew better, though; that wasn’t Eve acknowledging him. If he learned anything the last few months, once she was absorbed into a topic there was no breaking those slate whites away from it. Shame it wasn’t a topic that pissed her off (yet). It was always... interesting to watch her bronze body pulse blue; the faint trails and flutters were surprising at the start, but he wanted a full light show. Especially through that blue dress she wore that day. She was on the smaller, daintier, almost tomboy side of things when it came to feminine wiles, but seeing those pale tips ignite like a pair of torches always brought a tear to his eyes.

She looked up from the phone at last... and huffed.

“You’re still in here?” She muttered, and nodded to the door. “Go on.”

“But do I really need to?”

“It’s part of the program-”

“Yes yes. ’You must follow through with it. You must do everything by the book-” I’ve already been in this place twice. I was lead from top... to bottom... Why do I need some egomaniac stroke himself off in front of me just to show it all again?”

“Dixie is in charge today. She’s sweet and is using this to help with her anxiety with public speaking-”

“Jilling herself off, then. My bad.”

“Francis Ulrich Conner, are you arguing with your ‘PO’?” She picked up her purse, made of some... creatures’ hides... and deposited her cell into it before reaching out her left leg. Those legs made up most of her body, long... slender... deadly as she flicked that stiletto on it against the door’s handle. It clicked and flew open. All in one motion. When it did, the sounds outside flooded him; gasps, screams... then whispers. All for and about Francis. “Go take the tour and attend your first day of class. Then we’ll get you set up in your dorm.”

“Great. Lovely. Thank you.” He rolled his eyes, and, with one last, deep, rumbling breath, clambered out of the limousine and stood before Vereor Nox Academy. The moon was full this night, shining upon its turrets. He could make out four, but each one was fanned by eight wire boxes, with crew flitting up to them, with fresh brick being lain, matching the old, Gothic stone that made the castle before him. Its staircase was draped in blue velvet, with yellow runners that draped from the new handrails, cutting off at the platform at the bottom, before the wrought iron gates, flung open. They were struck deep into more stone, that ran the perimeter and against the mountain that it hid under, that all of the small city of Paradise, West Virginia hid under.

But Francis wasn’t here for the town. He didn’t want to be here at all, yet he had an obligation to fulfill. The car rumbled with his nails, rapping away, drinking in the Academy once again. It never got any better; in fact, the more he saw it, the more cliched and tacky it appeared. A Gothic style castle to teach monsters while a dark underbelly is making a profit of the monsters’ suffering; he could think of forty of the top of his head.

And none of them were good.

“Is that a real drachen?”

“Should we be here?”

“How could they let something like THAT in?”

“I think I need to go home.”

“Take me with you!”

“Fuck this! I’d rather be used as a living onahole.”

Ah, but he could only drink in the sight so much before the peons, the ants around him and their chittering were finally heard. Vermin, the lot of them. Their eyes were still upon him, their beady little eyes wide and wild, as if they saw God, Himself, step down from the Heavens and grace them with His Majesty. No... if He did, Francis would have been the first in line to give Him a (thorough) prostate exam with his size-nineteen boot. ALL THE WAY to the knee... if not the thigh.

Instead, they were only talking about him. Their opinions mattered as much as the muck-then-stone under his heels, stomping to the gate and up the stairs. At least, that’s what Eve ordered him to treat them as. It wouldn’t have been so hard, either, if they didn’t freeze and get in his way. Like fucking deer in headlights. One would hope they would come to their senses when he drew close, but no. They got worse; especially the harpies. Those mile-high specialists would squawk and take to the sky. His next hope would be that they weren’t like real birds- which was proven wrong. Wholly.

He looked to his right shoulder, revolted, looking at the stain plopped upon it. It was even white... Fuck. Birds. He rolled his eyes... but remembered what harpies were: literal fuck-birds. He began to chuckle, turned to a rumbling cackle as he reached the top of the steps. The double doors there burst in, letting the Academy rumble with his laughter, and the pair of crystal chandeliers in the entry jingled and danced to it. While all other motion came to a dead stop. And even more eyes were upon him.

Francis sighed, rubbing his gut, scratching at the bulging muscles under as he settled... growing annoyed, again, by the eyes all locked on him. He would have loved to reap the gazes that budded around him, but he had to “play nice”... He lumbered into the sitting room on the right –which quickly cleared as he entered. He was absolutely spoiled for choice for where to sit. Did he choose the seat in the corner, the other seat in the corner, the seat in the other corner, or- ah! He knew. He’ll take on of the couches in the middle. At least he could stretch out his legs- he spoke too soon, coming three inches short. On a seven-foot long couch... given that was from arm-to-arm and they were pretty plush but-

“My God, they weren’t kidding.”

He groaned, and leaned his head back, onto the arm of the couch, and looked up into the eyes of a less-female Fang. It didn’t have tits, but given its slender physique, he couldn’t imagine it had a penis in those sealed-on leather pants. It wore a bright, yellow shirt with... “graffiti” sprayed over it, all centered around a Fang’s skull without its lower jaw. How fitting; if it didn’t back away, the Fang would be a spitting image of it.

Sadly, though, it wasn’t alone. Four other Fangs flitted to its side, which all were quite clearly more feminine. A shame the others didn’t show up first; he would have enjoyed ogling those round beauties in their dark catalog of colors. They almost all looked exactly the same on the bottom, all in yoga pants, but had different colored shirts. If he had his way... he would move two and four. Then they could be organized by bust size. One was the smallest but still had a nice set, easily C’s, and they only escalated from there, with four being so large he couldn’t see anything beyond her lovelies at that angle.

The thing in center, the first to arrive, though, snapped its fingers before his face, reminding Francis that it even existed.

“Hey! Fuckface. I’m talking to you,” it said.

“When?” Francis uttered.

“Are you retarded? I know you look like the big oaf kind, but come the fuck on.”

“You’re right! I should be like you and break ALL known laws of normalcy and just be... a thing.”

“Was that supposed to be a comeback?”

“No, but leave me alone with this bustiest beauty for a few minutes and I just might.”

Big-D scoffed and backed away, revealing to belong to... a bitch! Who knew! Her face was very similar to the thing, yet was both more masculine and feminine. Just what are you?

“Uh, no!” Big-D exclaimed, gagging. “Like I would let a freak like you near me.”

“The more a lady protests...” Francis began-

Huffing as he hit the ground.

He picked himself up, dusted off his front, then looked back as the couch was replaced where it was. The three other Fangs tittered, cracking their hands... and panting. They tried to hide it, but he could see the small jiggles in their chest and how much faster they were.

“Real mature,” Francis muttered, and the fins on his arms broke through again. Fire sparked and crackled off his jowls, glaring down the thing before him. “Let’s start from the top: What are the name of the corpses before me?”

“I think you mean dragon slayers,” the thing said, muffled as its lips squelched. Its perfectly straight row of chompers were hidden behind a fresh row of pristine daggers. As did the others. “Filth like you really should know your place.”

“You think you can take me, hermy? I know the bitches around you stand no chance, but I might be merciful with you and just make you into a cockring as I fuck them senseless.”

“Hermy? What? I’m a dude, dude! The name’s Tyson, and my Family runs this school. If you think you can waltz in here and just own the place-”

“Bitch, please. I’m just here to go to fucking class, get some fucking class, fuck some classy ass, then get my ass outta here. If I could just pay it a twenty to fuck off, I would, but no. It’s one of them clingy types. It demands commitment.”

“Yet you strike me as the committed type. Who did you sell your ass to so you could get out of prison? A ‘tough guy’ like you must have had plenty of friends behind bars.”

“Keep blabbing. Loosen that cock holster real nice. Your sister’s going to love it when she feels it when I bottom out in her. What’s your name, Big-D?”

“Tina,” the sister said.

“Well it’s nice to meet you, Tiny. Name’s Francis-”

“Like that retarded villain from the one movie?” One of the other Fangs said, tittering. As did Francis.

“Yeah, like I haven’t heard that one before. I can assure you, though: I’m no dish soap.” He snorted, and a bit of flame shot out of his short nose. “You gonna do something already or just get me horny? Either way, I’m good.”

Tyson... scoffed, and turned away.

“You aren’t even worth our time. We have to go to class... Be careful around school, though. This time of year? The halls are a treacherous place.”

The others laughed, but all of them disappeared in a flash.

Francis sniffed, and sighed as he flung himself back on the couch... waiting... and continued to wait. How he waited, looking up at the ceiling, at the fine, polished redwood that made the interior of the castle. From the nails, he deduced that it was new, replacement for... mahogany? Seemed a shame; mahogany was much nicer than redwood. Especially with how it brought a room together. Though, if he had to choose a wood for interior, he would much prefer an aged ceder or oak or-

“Where the hell is she?” He grumbled, and slumped forward, growling... If he was allowed a phone, he would be staring at it so hard. Instead, he had to count the planks on the floor –easier said than done; carpeting really threw off count. He didn’t know if it was an extended piece underneath areas or if they were two, smaller boards. For all he knew, they were being changed right before his eyes –which this pudgy pig girl wasn’t helping any! He growled, bolting to his feet, looming over the peach-toned girl. “Do you mind!”

“W-what?” The girl squawked out, and the snort at the end was what annoyed Francis the most. How her wide, flat snout twitched. How those beady... blue... eyes... She had a nice curve to her; shame it was hindered by her black dress. She tried to even hide the top of her pink melons with a yellow jacket, saved by his outburst to let the top and the bright freckles on them... Sadly “fixed” as she cleared her throat, smiling at him. “You must be Francis.”

“Nope. I’m Dawn. Dawn Dishliquid.” He leaned closer, growling into her right, piggy ear. “Though you can call me whatever you like if you want to meet up later.”

She recoiled, but tried to hide it with a laugh. Her smile looked so pained as she twirled a bit of her black hair, a forest of curls.

“You sure do have a personality, don’t you? Eve... told me... We were waiting for you for a while in the left wing-”


“Yes. There are others here for orientation... I’m sure Eve told you, but I am Dixie. I will be showing you around the school and, if there’s enough time left, will be taking you to your first class. Now, do you have any questions before we start the tour?”

“Just one: Is the one line from the Deliverance considered offensive or a form of flirting?”

“I’ve never seen that movie, but most media portrays orcs in a negative light. So we’ll assume it’s offensive.”

“Even if it ends up being true?”

“I still don’t know what you mean let’s get started shall we lets yes go.”

She turned around and hurried to the other side of the hall... Francis followed, but was slow to start, watching after that round, bubbly... jiggling... girl. It didn’t help that her stride made her spiral tail bob and raise and show off her ass, but, given how this day started, he highly doubt it was going to end well. His will be done, after all.

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