Red Dragon

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After Bridget offered such fine cuisine, Francis felt a bit bad that he ate it all and forced her to drive to the fast food joint after. He felt even worse that he took up her offer of ordering as much as he wanted. “So long as it was red meat.” Oh, it was. Ten orders of their largest burgers. He simply didn’t have the heart to tell her he was fully recovered right before they pulled out of the parking lot.

The rest of the day flew by, and he was once again taken home in Penny’s car, escorted through the school and down to it by Jessica. The way she did it wasn’t out of spite nor possession but of someone caring, someone tense and waiting for something to happen. Especially when the harpies appeared. They started squawking, bickering, trying to start a fight, but Cassidy wasn’t with them. Cassidy wasn’t with them… They really should have put two brain cells together at that point and realized she was the only one keeping them from a lycan retort. The entire entry reeked of burning feathers.

Where was the little rich girl, though? Where did she go? He was tempted to request if they could swing in to the nursing station to see if the blood vials were still there, but he already knew the answer. When that bitch had her mind set on something… Well, she had more work ahead of her.

Penny left the two of them to climb to the third floor, and, at the landing, Jessica kissed his cheek, his farewell. She had work, after all, while all he could do was sit at home like a sad sack… or… He shoved Francine’s door open, catching right in the middle of a recording. How could he have known it was the perfect time, as she was giving a “heartfelt” speech about the plight of being single and men only caring about her looks and that no man would simply come in and whisk her away –THERE HE WAS.

“Hey,” he said, and lumbered over, helping her up on her feet. “School was a bitch today, but I learned something cool. My blood can melt glass, and, when it gathers and cools, makes beautiful rubies. How’s it going?”

She stammered, spluttered, lost in between the sickening smile she wore and the true, grotesque scowl she wore under that grinning mask. She was in a bright, daisy yellow dress, with long, black gloves and stockings, ending at her shoulders and hips with large, white furls. Perched upon her head was a tiny crown, not being bothering to try to hide its cheapness with how its “gems” were already starting to peel.

“F… Francis,” she manged to say- and he noticed the computer screen. And the long line of messages rising along the left monitor. There were a lot of broken hearts and sad faces in there, as well as plenty calling for his head. Francine cleared her throat… and tittered as she jumped into his arms, caressing his cheek. “Well, guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

She leaned up, “nuzzling” his ear, and growled as her nails dug in.

“Sit down in the chair. Shut up, and don’t fucking move,” she commanded… Considering it hasn’t been a weird enough day, he humored her. He plopped down in the ch- and already regretted it. Before he even completely relaxed. If he could. Good fucking lord! How can she bare to sit in this thing? At a glance, it looked comfortable. It was sleek and vibrant and seemed plush… His ass was already sore. The benches down in The Chalice were more comfortable.

But she let his shoulder go. She swung her leg off his arm and squeezed in between his legs, pulling his arms down to wrap around her. She giggled, reaching up and caressing his chin again, resuming her paused game.

“Sorry, loves, but this princess’s dragon finally came home,” she said. “No white knight will ever be able to save me for they don’t understand my needs.”

“It’s true,” Francis said. “She’s a crazy fucking bitch.”

She laughed, but the way she jerked her elbow back, aiming the gun on the game… she didn’t need that much movement. And she bruised her elbow in the process against his ribs. His eyes were glued on that chat, though, watching mods starting to delete and ban people. But he caught their messages, saw their death threats, their attempts to find where they were, where he lived. They were demanding to know who he truly was to… “cancel” him? What does that exactly mean? How does somebody “cancel” another human being? The only way he knew was to kill them, but the way the moderators were separating the two made him think there might have been another way to destroy somebody’s life. If that were the case, then it must be an incredibly cowardly way.

The stream continued, though, and he could only sit there and watch as she “acted” “cute” for her fans while playing what he could only surmise to be a cosplaying bimbo who loved to keep everyone else healthy. The fact her name was Mercy only added to that deduction, and the way she hung off the side of the hulk in armor –well, she liked the more hyper-masculine guys. She didn’t once aid the speedy teleporter or the commando –the true manliest man in the game at that moment. Probably gets all the babes.

Francine groaned as the round ended, showing a victory screen, but how was it a victory? All they did was push a car to the end of the map. For such high-action gameplay and powerful weapons, it almost seemed a parody, a mockery of true victory. But, on the screen, it was playing one of the highlights of it, showing a dwarf sitting by a turret while the camera was focused on the purple sniper’s best asset. Once again his attention was pulled to the chat, which, thankfully, most of the deletes and bans slowed and now he could see ogling faces towards that derrier and the donations asking Francine for her to PM.

“That’s all the time I have for today,” Francine stated, and stuck out her tongue. “Hope you all had fun. I love you all… and… off.” She growled as she pushed Francis back, standing up. She spun on him, glowering, the heat from her eyes almost making the tears of rage in them turn to steam. “You… What the fuck!”

“Me? I thought you said you didn’t stream.”

“I don’t! On adult websites. Why would I need to when I could just plug in Mercy and go brain-dead for a few hours? You saw how much I made from donations.”

“Yeah. I did. And I also noticed how it spiked when I came in-”

“Don’t remind me.” She groaned, rubbing her forehead as she leaned back on her desk. “It seems your… presence and what it implied made the more… zealous try harder to win my attention.”

“You say zealous, I say pathetic. Do people really think the lady on their screen will give them huggies and kissies if they give them enough money?”

“Most of them are kids-”

“Horny teens. Horny teens with their parent’s credit cards.”

“If you’re trying to shame me-”

“Hell no! That’s bloody fucking brilliant. You’re right; why whore yourself out when you can make more from these lonely bastards who are too afraid to even talk to women?”

“It’s not that simple, you know? Some guys are… they just… They-”

“Don’t have a chance in a million years because they are uglier than a body pushed through a meat grinder? Here’s an idea: Do something about it.”

“You wouldn’t get it! You were blessed with good looks-”

“And now you’re making fucking excuses for them. I’m not saying hit the gym or get cosmetic surgery. What I am saying is find a field you can actually play in. If the girls in your area don’t find you attractive, try a new area. A dung beetle in one’s eyes is another person’s scarab.”

“You really don’t get it. Some of these people… there’s a reason they go to these sites. There’s a reason why they watch others, why they listen and “talk” to them… In many ways, the streamers are their only friends. Their only families in some cases.”

“Wow… and you make money off of them… You’re right. I was wrong.”

“I don’t like when you say that-”

“You’re worse than a whore. At least they know they are being paid to get fucked; you are being paid to fuck them over… However… I’m thinking of coming around to more streams.”

“What? Why would you-”

He snatched her up, holding her by her throat, relaxed enough so that she could gag and cough against his palm while his other kept her waist steady. The drachen growled, licking his lips, and his arm wings extended, caressing her face, tearing at the middle of her dress.

“We could continue this little… act,” he said, clacking his teeth. “A poor princess held prisoner by the big, bad dragon… How… noble the white knights will flock to you, will try to pay to save you… In return, I demand a 40% cut.”

“M… mon…” She spat out, but lost the rest to a round of coughs.

“What was that? Sixty, you say? That’s quite generous. I am the heel to your babyface, and, I can assure you, I can sell it… Are you in or…”

He flicked his arm wing’s wrist, and the bottom of her dress fell away, exposing her lower lips. He rose it, aimed them towards the camera, and readied his finger over the button to the left she used to end the recording. The chat was still alive, after all. So many were begging her to come back, demanding to know she was okay… Well, a bit of video proof would help with that, wouldn’t i-

“Fine,” she exclaimed, hacking up a storm as he lobbed her into bed. “Fine… Only forty, though.”

“That’s fair.” He chortled, crawling onto the bed with her, running his finger up the rest of the dress, slicing it away. He looked down over her dark green form, at those bright pink tips on her breasts and that tight mouth below… sneering. “Shame such a beautiful body was wasted on an unbelievable cunt.”

“The same… can be said… about you.”

“Yeah. Yeah… Difference is I don’t try to hide it.” He huffed, stood, and pulled out his phone. What time was it an- “Wow. Already that late? I’m going to be dragging ass tomorrow… Your chair is more comfortable than I thought.”

He chortled one last time then stomped to bed, collapsing right into it. Even though it was a short nap, it felt so long, knowing what the day would most likely hold. There was no doubt in his mind Cassidy rushed it through. She would have wasted no expense using Mister Crane’s fortune to make it top priority, even over the cures for cancer and other diseases if it meant revealing if he was the father… and pushed even more to find he wasn’t.

So many scenarios. So many different elements… yet it always played out the same way. Whether he was the father or not, whether Jessica accepted the result, there was only one way this was going to end: With him telling Cassidy that he was. In front of the entire school, a school she infected with the idea that she was his girl, that she was his everything… The illusion, shattered, crushed more than her hopes and dreams and Desiree’s body. Yes… she would finally be avenged. Justice would be served.

His alarm sang his victory, the remnant of that snake dancing upon it, cheering, egging him on. It wasn’t necessary, though. He was already stepping out of the shower, damn be those pink eyes that stalked him. The most likely scenario that would play out the day would be Cassidy stated before Jessica and him that he was not the father. Jessica would interject, stating that Francis was the only guy she ever slept with, as he would say he did sleep with her… but there was that lingering shade, that shadow of a doubt:

What if the confrontation never happened?

That thought, and the way it giggled and lapped at his nape, urged him out the door and to Jessica’s. He hammered on it, called her name… smiling as the haggard manticore opened the door. She still had her work shirt on if unbuttoned down the middle, revealing her leotard from the day before, but at least she had her boots off. Her glare became a warm smile… only to sink into a wary look.

“What? What is it?” She said.

“Oh, nothing. Just wanted to make sure you were still alive.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that. Work sucked tonight. Boss was riding my ass hard… Think she knows I’m preggo, so she’s using me as long as she can before I’ll need maternity leave.” She sighed, falling into his chest, and he could feel her starting to purr. “I’m going to be so glad when that paternity test comes back. I need cuddled.”

“Nothing’s stopping us right now.”

“Yeah, but I’d rather let the tension simmer than boil. Will make the clean-up after so much easier… and the result a bit more savory.” She whined, clawing at his chest. “Cook me something… It’s been forever.”

“Only a few weeks.”

He rolled his eyes, but allowed himself to be guided to the kitchen. She let him go, sitting at the table, rubbing her belly as she watched him cook, drinking in every detail. Thankfully the fairies had been keeping up on stocking her fridge, something they really didn’t need to do but Francis supposed it was because he was going over there all the time. He didn’t know why they were always looking out for him, doing these small favors, but he wasn’t going to complain. He’ll simply leave another twenty… for…

“Oh no,” he grumbled, slapping his forehead. The bacon and sausage snapped away in the pan, the toaster pressed down, glowing as it turned four simple slices into crunchy golden foundations for butter, jam, and more often than not sandwiches.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Christmas is coming… and I think I’m down to my last 200. With the threat of unemployment still lingering, what am I going to do?”

“Nothing? You don’t need to do anything for Christmas. You don’t need to buy gifts.”

“Uh, yes I do. This is the one year where I had people I wanted to buy for-”

“Yes. Wanted. Not a need… I mean, I plan to get you something, but I’m not expecting anything in return –okay, that’s not entirely true. I’m expecting you to cook for me… and maybe eat me out?”

“Why did you phrase that like a question?”

“I unno. Just seems like you only do it if you are forced to and don’t really like it.”

“I was about to sweep down and scoop you up, but still cooking.”

“Oh my… so you don’t mind?”

“I’ve done far worse on my days of the streets. And I actually like you.”

“Only like?”

“Don’t push it. We’ve got more than enough time to consider further.”

“Well, yeah, but usually people know before they have kids.”

“Are you sure about that?”

They both laughed, then had a nice little breakfast, pilfered with dirty small talk and raunchy dreams. A lot of dreams, all from the bipolar manticore. She dreamed of such tawdry events such as buying a house (and fucking in every room of it), landing a stay-at-home gig and renovating an office (where he would be her coffee bitch and be used as one), raising their kids and teaching them at home (“Always wanted to fuck a teacher”), until, sadly, they needed to depart. Penny stood before the stairs, finally cycling through her costumes with a brown leather duster and cowboy hat, and lead them down to the car. The two were still talking, egging each other on, even as they clambered into her car.

Plank stopped at the drive-through, but decided to pull away. Even as her stomach grumbled.

“I’m not going to eat by myself,” she muttered, parking at Vereor Nox… She huffed as she pulled the key out of the ignition, giving them both a wary look. “Well… predictions for today?”

“Pain. Lots of pain,” Jessica said, yawning as she stretched… then giggled as she flung her arms around Francis’s neck. “But not for us.”

“I’m not sure what you two have planned, but remember: I had nothing to do with this. I want nothing to do with this… If you need a getaway driver, dumbass, you know where my class is-”

“You know, I actually don’t,” Francis said. “I don’t think I ever went to your classroom. Not even during orientation.”

“Second floor, on the right, six doors down, northern door.” She sighed… then put the keys back in the ignition. “Fuck it, I’m starving this morning. Get out and get going. I’ll be along shortly.”

The pair did exactly what she said, and lumbered to the sidewalk as that car spun out and returned to the Golden Arches. Francis rolled his eyes, shaking his head after, but it was only delaying the inevitable. He could already feel their eyes upon him. Upon them. He goaded Jessica to turn around, and, at the gate, Cassidy and her hysteria waited. Smiling so smug.

Cassidy held up a paper, folded in three, and cleared her throat.

“Morning,” she said. “Daddy was able to push it through.”

“Of course he did,” Francis grumbled, flames already frothing at his maw. “And what did you find out?”

“Yes. Please. Do tell,” Jessica said, rubbing her belly, hidden behind a black leotard this day.

“It turns out… I was right,” Cassidy said, handing over the paper-

Torn apart by Francis.

“Yeah, I’m not playing this game,” he said, growling as he stomped towards them. The hysteria squawked and took flight, but Cassidy couldn’t, looked under his glare. “Cass… I fucked her. I fucked her hard and good. I came so much inside her… and I knew she was in heat.”

“What!” Both women screeched.

“Do you think me an idiot? You’re a cat! Of course I knew you were in heat; when else do they show such need? I didn’t think much of the consequence because, well, look at me. Did you really think my sperm would take? To such a frail figure?”

“I’m not weak,” Jessica grumbled… but cleared her throat, as well, taking his arm, also glaring at the harpy. “And I didn’t sleep with anyone else. He’s the only one I ever fucked-”

“And he’s the only one I ever made love to,” Cassidy spat back, squawking already. “The test didn’t lie, though! You were not the father, Francis dear-”

Jessica slapped her, leaving four scratches on her right cheek.

“You have no right to call him that anymore,” she stated, and, using the same hand, caressed Francis’s face, trilling. “Remember what I said, Francis? Are you going to man up?”

He didn’t say. Actions speak louder, after all. He shot Cassidy one, last dirty look… then knelt before Jessica. Her face burnt bright red, tensing and backing up a touch as he did.

“Whoa! Hey. I didn’t expect you to prop-” She began, then exclaimed… and shuddered as he grabbed her waist, pulling her back to him. He eased aside her leotard, exposing her puffy lips, and sealed his against them, lapping and slurping. It took her a moment, but her hands finally grasped at his head, playing with his hair, tugging on it as her moans rose, lost to hisses… and, of course, the row of pants.

And, the entire time, Cassidy stood beside, more stone than a statue, face marred by tears, hate, disgust… and love. With each trio of pants, she seemed to crumple more. With every blast on Francis’s face, the harpy buckled under her weight, sinking to her knees then her rear, her legs spread as she rubbed in between, sobbing. The hysteria returned, as did more people, seeing him indulging Jessica while the regal harpy could only sit by and jill away, squirting with such… revulsion plastered upon her visage.

Francis finally pulled back for breath, and looked up at Jessica, her face glowing, beaming down at him.

“Wow,” she said, panting. “You really do know how to treat a woman right… You’re not done, are you?”

“I’m just getting started,” he said, and winked at Cassidy before plunging back against those folds, making the manticore squeal and wail as his hands joined in. She had stood strong for so long, but her hips finally gave. He eased her down against the sidewalk, holding onto her hips as they threatened to pop his head, but only slightly. Only slightly… Totally worth getting detention over.

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