Red Dragon

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Of all the events that transpired that day, that week, Francis would have never guessed that it was the ride home that he would dread the most. He truly feared for his life as his ride roared down the highway to the rocky diversion down into Paradise. The car was already having a hard enough time staying on the road without the harpy’s... aid. Francis chanced a glance at the speedometer once, and was more than happy to keep his eyes up on the ravenous harpy.

Yes. Ravenous. For there was no better word in all of the American English dictionary to describe how starved, how deprived she was. It was as if a man who hasn’t eaten in years was thrust into an all-you-can-eat buffet, made even better by it being of all his favorite foods. Given the comparison, Francis hoped he wasn’t doing something wrong in letting her satisfy herself as much as she was. Could someone truly die from having too much sex? Maybe that wasn’t the right question... Could someone bleed out during sex? Explode from too much?

Her hymen was well and truly decimated. Her cavity beyond was stretched out, holding fast to his member. And it didn’t let go. Her belly sloshed with each thrust, engorged on his seed, his poor, leather sack under reduced to a quivering husk, trying to hard to keep going. For what purpose, though? Both his mind and body were more than happy to check out by that point, but she. Kept. Going.

His spine, that lizard brain, tingled once again and made him heave a climatic wheeze, puffing another shot into her already burgeoned abdomen, and, at last, she sighed and fell. She nuzzled his neck, covered it with kisses, panting harder than how she stuttered the first time they went out –a time Francis was almost missing. He yearned for that meek harpy again, holding herself in... but... if this was the end result, he was glad it was out in the o-

The car jerked to a halt, and Cassidy groaned.

“I’m tempted to simply crash with you again,” she muttered, still covering him in kisses in between words. “I don’t want to go home and turn back around.”

“What time is it,” he managed to say, and even that was heavily slurred. Yet his hands kept fondling her rear, pushing her down on his throbbing, melting rod... What could he say? He was a masochist to the very end.

“Let’s just say I’m glad today is simply review... It was totally worth it, though.” She sighed, and rose up, beaming down at him, forcing him to look into her eyes as she held his face. “I love you.”

He nodded, unable to make the words he wanted to say or what she wanted to hear, but she seemed pleased enough with the gesture, tittering- yelping. He finally popped out, and he felt a deluge run out after, coating his member, baptizing it in its own actions. She pushed her hand in between, whimpering as she tried to cup it.

“No. Not yet. Stay in,” she whined... then huffed as the door opened. “Looks like I’ll at least need to come inside to use your bathroom. This is rare leather.”

“How rare?”

“W-well...” She muttered it... but Francis wasn’t sure he wanted to acknowledge it. He knew rich people had their quirks and that normal people loved to use animal’s flesh for their cars, but that was a degree of reparations he really did not want to consider. The horse people of Gulliver’s Travels would have been proud of Mister Crane, though.

But he was too tired to care. The door to salvation was open. He drooped his legs out, and soon the 140-pound (currently 170) fluffball on top of him slunk off. It took him a moment to find his strength, but, when he did, he was met by the face of the driver. Shaking his head.

“What?” Francis uttered, pulling up his pants.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just will never understand you himan and your... endurance.”

“You’re only human?”

“Yes, and, after seeing the shenanigans you two go through, am quite proud of it.”

“It’s not wise to be proud of your weaknesses... Take it she already went up.”

“She did-” His phone went off. The five-foot nothing proud boy pulled it out of his black suit jacket... and groaned. “And it looks like I need to run back for a change of clothes. She texted her dad and asked to stay with y-”

“Why go back? There’s an entire ensemble in the trunk. Several, in fact.”

“Oh right! I’ll send him th... She wants to save those for when she gets back from holiday.”

“Of course she does... You sure you can’t persuade him into forcing her to go home?”

“What? Too weak to handle her?”

“I... am a MAN... but every man has a limit. Mine is 57!”

“While mine is two. Three if she leaves me alone for a w-”

“Did I ask about yours! So... can Mister Crane convince her?”

“Sending... No... In fact, he has another statement, this time regarding you. ‘Ask the delightful fellow if he would want to accompany us for the holidays. Cassidy was so ecstatic about it.’”

“As much as I would love to... I really can’t. I already have an obligation to Eve, and there’s no way to change th- Don’t tell me you just sent him that, did you?”

“‘I really didn’t need to’,” Missus Crane said on his phone. “‘You have any idea how easy these devices are to tap? Anyways, if you’re concern is Eve, perhaps we can make it a... joint venture. Crane Enterprises and the Preternatural Division of the Department of Homeland Security have been needing to consult her on matters involving Vereor Nox Academy and its current dean and her tenure. This would be the perfect opportunity to discuss... future relations and goals of Vereor Nox and those that oversee it.’”

“You know, this sounds like a lot of shady shit and I’m just too tired right now to care. What I am getting out of it is this involves Eve more than me. Talk it with her, and I’ll follow whatever she decides.”

“‘You see, that would work, but I’ve been in discussion about this with her since the beginning of the month. She has delayed and delayed, and I feel that, if she had your say in the matter-’”

“Yeah, I’ll just cut you off there. She’s her own woman, and she’s a headstrong, logical woman. She doesn’t give in to emotions nor sympathy. It’s why I admire her; straight-laced as they come, but also know you are wasting her time –and mine... I need to go to bed.”

“‘You sound like it. Like mother like daughter, huh?’” She tittered on the other end, but ended with a sigh. “‘I will discuss it with her, though. If need be, can I tell her you are in support of the idea?’”

“Only if it’s to spend time with her and Cassidy. I don’t agree to anything else.”

“‘And that is perfectly fine... Now go get some rest, big boy, and know that mommy loves you.’”

She tittered again as the phone snapped off. The proud boy sighed, pocketing it again, and started to climb into the driver’s seat again-

“What?” Francis blurted. “Nothing to say?”

“I’m not paid enough to say anything,” he stated. “In fact, I’m paid not to see, hear, or think anything... I’ll be back after dropping off the princess’s goods and getting her new clothes. Try to stay alive until then; they need your business.”

Francis chortled, mockingly, and flipped off the car as it raced off... letting his arm drop after. It simply flopped, no energy left to spare for its descent. He needed to focus on his feet, on those steps, on conserving until the final moment he could strip down and fall face-first into bed –and hopefully not into a harpy’s chest. He did not have a death wish, and that would probably push it enough.

The first floor was easy enough.

The second snagged at his feet. The sun shone upon the concrete, making it almost sparkle with the soft dew from morning’s kiss still clinging in the shadow, being eaten away. He stopped at the landing, and looked to the sky. The sun was already on its way over the zenith, meaning he had, at most, two hours before he was expected to march back down and-

“There you are,” Bridget exclaimed, hugging him from behind. She cooed into his ear, sniffling, and eased him around, looking into his face. “I was so worried. I knew you went out tonight, but you’re usually back by noon. Did you enjoy yourself?”

“... For the most part,” he said, and rubbed her cheek. Wiping away the trails her tears left in them. “How about you? Did you have a nice time out with the bitches?”

“Oh, I didn’t go out this time. I stayed home and looked over the tests. Cassidy’s especially.” She sighed, holding herself, and her face seemed to sour. “Her grades are slipping... If it continues as it is, she will fall behind.”

“That sucks. What, she has to do another year?”

“Precisely... You don’t think she might be doing it on purpose, do you?”

“Why would she?”

“Well... She hasn’t kept it hidden that she believes you two are a couple-”

“Not yet, but I’m working on it,” Cassidy said, and it was her turn to catch Francis from behind. She nibbled at his ear as her legs wrapped his middle, holding him. “Hey, baby. I was wondering what was holding you up. Hi, Professor Deckard.”

“Miss Crane. I was simply talking to Francis about your test-”

“I know. I flubbed it up... I had Francis on the brain.” She giggled, and nipped his ear again. “I should do better next time.”

“That is good to hear, but I will be discussing it with you in-depth come class. As well as Desiree and Ali. That pixie... I don’t know what I’m going to do with her.”

“Why? What’d she do this time?” Francis said, and the very question made the witch’s face burn red.

“She has always been rebellious, but she has... She’s gone too far... On her test, she drew a picture of... She... She made a caricature of your... and put my face covered in... She just went too far. ‘Teacher found a dick to be a slave to’.” She huffed, and looked out on the parking lot, shaking her head. “That sort of talk is not welcome in my classroom, and should not be tolerated in the school nor society as a whole.”

“For telling the truth?” Francis said. Which made both women scoff. For entirely different reasons, apparently.

“I’m not a slave to it; just an admirer,” Bridget said.

“Only I am, baby,” Cassidy retorted... and both women glared.

“In any case,” the witch said, “she did not do her test... So... you have any plans yet for the Saturnalia Ball, Francis?”

“He might,” Cassidy answered for him. “He might be leaving with me for the holidays.”


“Don’t count your eggs before they are scrambled,” Francis grumbled. “It was... brought up, but it depends entirely on Eve.”

“Well, I will simply have to talk with Eve.”

“Why?” Cassidy interjected.

“Because that would hemorrhage Francis’s teaching even more. He was in detention for the majority of this semester. I, as a teacher, cannot allow this continued spiral continue. He deserves an education.”

“She has a point,” Francis said, and yawned again. “But I’m too tired to get into this. Let me go pass out already. Please?”

“But of course, baby,” Cassidy said, rubbing his shoulders and cooing in his ear. “You must be exhausted after we finally consummated our love.”

“No,” Bridget exclaimed. “You d... Well, at least you waited three dates. You two have shown great restraint and understanding. I know he’s a man, too. He has urges-”

“A great deal of them. I thought I would break.”

“I did break,” Francis mumbled, and, with his rising rage, finally broke away from the witch and headed up the second flight. His door was thankfully open and, with one, final hurrah, he lumbered into his room, tossed Cassidy on the bed, discarded his clothes... and tipped right in. Onto his ACTUAL pillow. Accepting the sweet release of rest at last.

For at least a couple hours.

Cassidy’s phone woke both of them up, and Mister Crane told her that her clothes were left in Francis’s living room. She thanked him, and, upon hanging up, threatened Francis that she wouldn’t need them. Not yet... At least she didn’t go the full 57, but it might as well have been added on. Worst part? It was only 67, two away from the only, tragic number.

His shower, as always, was both satisfying and disappointing, but Cassidy was kind enough to make them breakfast. Mostly eaten by her, though, and in a rush as she took her shower, while he sat at the table, looking at the remains... She left with her clique, demanding to know what happened (but they could probably already smell it), and Francis awaited, with a growling belly, for Bridget to make herself known. As she always did-

And there it was.

“Door’s open,” he mumbled, and had a feeling he was forgetting something. Rather, someone. The door creaked open-

And it crashed into him.

“There!” Francine exclaimed, wiping her hands as she chortled, but Francis couldn’t exactly see her through the mountain of mail thrust upon him. “I was contacted earlier by your landlord, and she told me your mailbox was packed. She told me to come get it... Now, I expected a handful of folds, maybe a crate, not this bloody flood! It’s like you never checked it.”

“I didn’t,” he mumbled, spitting out a few folds. He grabbed a few, wondering where did it all come from... and found most of it was advertisements. Magazines- himan magazines, at least, but he doubted he would be interested in Echnidas and Quillbacks or Foxies... Then again, nothing ventured- “I actually, completely forgot I had a mailbox.”

“Well, let this be your wake-up call. I won’t go get it again.” She huffed- then exclaimed, looking at the remains of breakfast. “What’s all this!”

“Oh. Cass made herself some food. Left me crumbs.”

“That harpy was here? Eh, guess even the rich can be dumb.”

“I thought that was the norm,” Penny said, stepping through the door... and looking at the tragedy before her. “Looks like you had one helluva night. Tell me, which pile are misdemeanors and which pile are felonies?”

“What?” Francis said.

“You’re right. How silly of me to separate them... Oh, Bridget told me she’ll be along to take you out to breakfast, so I’m just here to say you fucked that harpy so well that she was flying sideways. It was quite the sight.”

“More like she fucked me that hard,” Francis grumbled, groaning at the news she brought. He looked up the roof, and fanned his arms. “You have done a lot for me, but, if you would be so kind, put a bullet through my head right now.”

“Who are you talking to, God?” Francine said, but was already heading out towards the living room. “I don’t think She’ll answer you, but give me a moment and I will.”

Sadly, she wasn’t fast enough. Bridget made herself known far too soon after Plank heralded her dark coming. The feeling inside her sedan was tense; she barely ate a third of her food before she put it in the cooler. Francis ate all of his... three times over. He was a hungry man that “morning”, and he would need all the energy he could to sleep through all of Johnny’s cl-

“So,” Bridget uttered, stopping him from opening the door. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Yeah. A lot,” he said.

“Well... that’s good. As long as you are content.”

Her voice broke, but not in the way Francis expected. Indeed, it wasn’t sadness nor misery that shattered her voice but rage. Fury shone in her eyes as she looked his way, breaking the facade of a smile she wore. Her fingers clasped his far too hard, trying their best to act as though they cradled his.

“I know it’s hard, to wait until you are truly committed,” she said, and raised his hand to her lip, kissing it. “I know where your heart truly lies... so, as long as you continue to pleasure me and your heart leads true, I will... overlook any misgivings. You are a man, after all, and a drachen. Your urges run deep, and hot... Tonight, I wish to lay in your bed and for you to sate my body.”

“Why are you being so f-”

He winced as her nails bit in, soothed away by her kiss.

“Please, darling.”

“Okay, okay... Still weird that y-”

He hissed again, but she let his hand go, letting him go into the school. Cassidy was nowhere to be seen, nor was her hysteria... How fitting a name for a pack of literal harpies.

His phone beeped, though, and he stopped in the entry of the Academy, pulling it out. There was a new message from Destiny.

Time shrinks. Parts are falling into place far faster than I anticipated. I’ll need to act soon. OwO Be prepared, my love, for when our fates finally intertwine there is no going back.

“I am in no mood for this today,” he grumbled, and shot her back a message.


He yawned as he put it away and made his way upstairs-

Meeting darkness on the fourth step. In fact, meeting that fourth step face-to-face before everything went dark... It was nice. The carpet was smoother than the fifth, but he had a feeling it was jeal- oh. Right. Darkness.

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