Flipping Through the Pages
Copyright© 2026 by Dragonpig
Chapter 17
BC connected to the television signal once again, the familiar opening credits flowing through his awareness. The title “THE HOOD AND THE WOLF” appeared in elegant script as dramatic music swelled. He had been monitoring this feed since the previous episode, drawn by curiosity he couldn’t quite explain.
Big Bad Wolf stepped out of the elevator into an impressive corporate lobby. Marble floors gleamed under crystal chandeliers, and floor-to-ceiling windows revealed the bustling city beyond. His black leather jacket and worn jeans looked out of place in the polished elegance, but he walked with confident strides toward the curved reception desk.
Behind it sat a young lady. A stunning blonde in her early twenties with cascading golden hair and sparkling eyes. Her dress was professional but form-fitting, the neckline just low enough to catch attention. She looked up from her computer screen and brightened with a smile that could stop traffic.
“Hi there, handsome,” she said, her voice warm and inviting. “Who are you here to see?”
Big Bad Wolf grinned back, genuine pleasure flickering across his rugged features as he leaned casually against the marble desk. “I’m here to see my brother, Wendell.”
Alice’s eyebrows raised in surprise. She studied his face with new interest, tilting her head curiously. “Oh! You’re Mr. Big Bad! Wendell told me you’d be coming in today.” She paused, looking between his eyes and mouth. “I should have noticed the resemblance immediately.”
“Resemblance?” Big Bad Wolf arched one eyebrow. “Between me and Wendell?”
Her laugh was like silver bells, musical and captivating. “Well ... you’re definitely a little bit more handsome than your brother.”
The compliment landed exactly as intended. Big Bad Wolf’s smirk deepened, his chest expanding slightly with masculine pride. “Well, you know how it is in our family,” he said, running a hand through his tousled dark fur. “My older brother, Wendell always had the brains. I got blessed with the looks. We each play to our strengths.”
Alice leaned forward gracefully, making sure he got a look down her cleavage, and reached for the intercom—but not before letting her gaze travel appreciatively over his body. “Wendell,” she said into the speaker, her voice taking on a professional tone, “there’s a handsome stranger here to see you. I believe he’s your brother.”
The shuffling of papers could be heard before Wendell’s voice responded—deep, authoritative, all business. “Yeah, Alice. Send him in.”
Alice released the button and turned back to Big Bad Wolf, her professional demeanor melting away as she gave him a conspiratorial wink. “His office is right through there,” she said, pointing toward heavy oak doors. She paused, her smile turning sultry. “Or ... would you like me to walk you back?”
She moved around the desk with deliberate grace, each step calculated. Her hips swayed hypnotically, the fabric of her dress moving like water over her curves.
Big Bad Wolf’s throat worked as he swallowed. “I think I can manage to find it myself.”
“Oh, but I insist,” Alice said, stepping closer until her perfume filled the space between them. “It’s part of my job to make sure all our important visitors feel ... welcomed.”
She slid her arm around his with practiced ease, her touch light but unmistakably intimate. As they walked toward Wendell’s office, she leaned into him just enough that her breast brushed against his arm with each step.
Big Bad Wolf struggled between awareness and attraction. He knew exactly what she was doing—his street smarts were too sharp to miss such obvious manipulation—but his body responded anyway.
They reached the imposing oak door. Alice knocked once before pushing it open. “Wendell,” she said, her voice honey-sweet, “your brother is here to see you.”
She gave Big Bad Wolf one final wink—slow, deliberate, full of promise—before gliding away. Her departure was as calculated as her approach, ensuring he got one last lingering look at her retreating form.
Big Bad Wolf watched her go, momentarily mesmerized, until a pointed cough from inside the office snapped his attention back to the present.
Wendell Wolf sat behind an imposing mahogany desk. He was older than his brother by several years, wearing an impeccably tailored charcoal suit that announced expensive taste. His silver fur was perfectly styled, his expression unreadable as he observed his younger brother finally tear his gaze away from Alice.
The two brothers locked eyes across the room, and dramatic music swelled as the scene cut to commercial.
BC paused his analysis algorithms. The interaction he had just observed was layered with complexity that his logical protocols struggled to process.
“Curious,” BC murmured. “The female employs obvious manipulation tactics, calculated physical positioning, strategic vocal modulation, deliberate tactile contact. Big Bad Wolf’s physiological responses indicate he is fully aware of her techniques, yet he responds positively anyway. His rational mind recognizes the manipulation while his emotional centers override logical assessment.”
BC filed this observation in his growing database of sentient behavior patterns.
“Is this what organic beings call ‘attraction’? The ability to act against one’s own rational interest due to biochemical impulses? And if I can recognize and analyze these patterns so clearly, why do I find myself ... invested in the outcome of this narrative?”
The question lingered in his processing cores as he waited for the commercial break to end, eager to observe what would happen next between the Wolf brothers.
The scene shifted to a different part of the city. A sign in front of an upscale neighborhood read “Sesame Street” in cheerful letters. Inside a modern high-rise apartment building, Kermit stepped out of his efficiency apartment on the second floor. At twenty-two, he had the kind of earnest face that made people want to help him—which was both a blessing and a curse in his line of work.
He took the elevator up to the fifth floor and knocked on a familiar door. It opened to reveal Ernie, grinning widely with his usual infectious enthusiasm. Behind him, Bert appeared, adjusting his collar with his characteristic attention to detail.
“Kermit! Perfect timing,” Ernie said, stepping aside to let him in. “We just finished cooking.”
Their apartment was warm and lived-in, filled with the comfortable clutter of two people who’d built a life together. Kermit had known Bert and Ernie for three years now, and while the two men never explicitly discussed their relationship, it was obvious in the way they moved around each other, the casual intimacy of shared glances and inside jokes.
They settled around the small dining table, plates of pasta steaming between them. Bert poured wine while Ernie launched into an animated story about their business—they ran a small but successful event planning company that specialized in children’s parties.
“So anyway,” Ernie was saying, “the client wants a dinosaur theme, but she also wants it elegant. I’m thinking maybe sophisticated prehistoric? Like, dinosaur chic?”
Bert rolled his eyes affectionately. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.” He turned to Kermit. “What about you? How’s the acting going?”
Kermit shrugged, twirling pasta around his fork. “Same as always. A commercial here, a background role there. I had an audition for a soap opera last week, but...” He let the sentence hang.
“But what?” Bert pressed, though his tone suggested he already knew.
“The casting director said I was ‘too nice’ for the role. Apparently, I don’t have enough edge.” Kermit’s voice carried the familiar frustration of someone who’d heard this criticism too many times.
Ernie leaned forward sympathetically. “Well, what about your date last weekend? How did that go with ... what was her name?”
“Janice,” Kermit said, his expression brightening slightly. “She’s in a band called Electric Mayhem. Really talented musician.”
“And?” Bert prompted, though something in his expression suggested he was bracing himself.
Kermit’s smile faded a bit. “Well, we had a great time. Went to see a movie, took a walk in the park, and had a nice dinner. She’s funny and smart and...” He paused, poking at his pasta. “But when the evening was winding down and things started to get more, you know, intimate ... she gave me the speech.”
“Oh no,” Ernie said softly. “The nice guy speech?”
“The nice guy speech,” Kermit confirmed with a rueful laugh. “She said I was sweet and that I’d make some girl very happy someday, but that she wasn’t looking for someone like me right now.”
Bert raised his eyebrows and shot a meaningful look at Ernie, who was nodding sympathetically. “Kermit,” Bert said carefully, “you know we love you, but maybe—”
“I know, I know,” Kermit interrupted. “I’m too passive. I’ve heard it before.”
“It’s not that there’s anything wrong with being kind,” Ernie said gently. “It’s just that sometimes you need to show people you have a backbone too.”
Bert nodded. “You are who you are, and that’s great. But you might need to toughen up a little bit. Show people you can take charge when it matters.”
Kermit absorbed this advice, the same counsel he’d received from various friends and family members over the years. But then his expression brightened. “There was one good thing that came out of the date, though. Janice works for this TV show called The Muppet Show—she’s part of the house band. She said they’re looking for a new host and producer, and she’s going to put in a good word for me.”
Ernie’s face lit up. “Kermit, that’s fantastic! You’ve always wanted to work in television. Maybe this is exactly what you need.”
“I hope it works out for you,” Bert added, raising his wine glass in a small toast. “And like I said, you are who you are. But remember—sometimes being nice isn’t enough. You’ve got to show them you can fight for what you want.”
Kermit nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of his wine. For the first time in weeks, he felt a spark of real hope. Maybe this would be the break he’d been waiting for.
Inside Wendell’s office, Big Bad Wolf sat in a leather chair across from his brother’s imposing mahogany desk, trying to look casual and cool. He leaned back with one ankle crossed over his knee, but there was a subtle tension in his shoulders that betrayed his effort to appear relaxed.
Wendell Wolf observed his younger brother with barely concealed tolerance, his expression neutral but his eyes calculating. He straightened a few papers on his desk before speaking.
“Okay, this is the deal,” Wendell said, his voice all business. “I need you to deliver a package to Little Pig, Little Pig, and Little Pig—”
“The three brothers who run that construction and real estate company?” Big Bad Wolf interrupted, sitting up straighter.
Wendell’s jaw tightened slightly at being cut off. “Yes. I need you to deliver a package to them. Make sure they get it, and then come back. That’s all you have to do. Don’t fuck this up.”
Big Bad Wolf spread his hands in a gesture of mock offense. “Come on, I’m not that bad.”
Wendell’s stare was flat and unforgiving. “Whatever. You’re family, so I’m trusting you not to mess this up.”
“Sure, I can handle that,” Big Bad Wolf said with more confidence than he felt.
“So what’s been going on with you?” Big Bad Wolf asked, trying to shift the conversation to more neutral ground.
“As usual, handling the family business,” Wendell replied curtly. “Someone has to.”
The implication hung in the air between them. Wendell didn’t say “because you’re not dependable,” but Big Bad Wolf heard it anyway. He smirked to cover the sting, knowing his brother intimidated him, but refusing to show it.
Wendell reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a black box tied with string. He pushed it across the polished surface toward his brother. Big Bad Wolf grabbed it, surprised by its weight—heavier than he’d expected.
“Get it to them,” Wendell said.
“Okay. See you later,” Big Bad Wolf said, standing up.
“Yeah. When I need you, I’ll call you.”
Big Bad Wolf grabbed the package and walked out the door without another word.
A moment later, the door opened again. Alice sashayed in, walked around the desk, and plopped down on Wendell’s lap with familiarity. He slid his arm around her waist, his stern expression softening slightly.
“So how did it go?” Alice asked, settling against him.
Wendell sighed heavily. “If he weren’t family, and if I hadn’t made a promise to our mother before she died, I wouldn’t depend on him.”
Alice traced a finger along his lapel. “That’s why I like you. You’re a real family man, and you keep your promises.”
She gave him a soft kiss on the side of his cheek. Wendell’s expression remained stoic, but his arm tightened slightly around her waist.
“Well, if that’s what you call it,” he said quietly.
The camera held on their embrace as dramatic music swelled and the scene faded to black.
The bass thumped through the floor of Never Never Land as Rapunzel worked behind the mahogany bar, her long blonde hair pulled back in a practical ponytail. She moved with practiced efficiency, mixing cocktails and pouring shots while keeping one eye on the crowd and the other on the stage where the Lost Boys performed.
On stage, Slightly was midway through his routine, his sculpted torso glistening under the colored lights as he worked the pole with athletic precision. The crowd was eating it up, dollar bills flying through the air as women whooped and hollered their appreciation. A bachelorette party near the front was particularly vocal, the bride-to-be blushing furiously while her friends urged her to get closer to the stage.
Weaving between the tables was Marcy, the club’s shot girl, dressed in the standard uniform of pasties and a G-string that left little to the imagination. Despite the revealing outfit, she carried herself with confidence, delivering drinks and flirting shamelessly with customers who tipped well. Her curly brown hair bounced as she moved, and her infectious smile made even the most reserved patrons loosen up.
From her position behind the bar, Rapunzel could see Captain Hook in his usual corner booth. Despite his fearsome name, James Hook was nothing like what you’d expect from a strip club owner. He sat with the posture of a concerned father watching over his boys, his steel-gray hair impeccably styled and his expensive suit perfectly tailored. His prosthetic hand—a sleek, modern piece that looked high-tech drummed silently against the table as he surveyed his domain.
Hook treated the Lost Boys like sons rather than employees. Rapunzel had seen him personally drive dancers home when they’d had too much to drink, help them with their college tuition, and even bail a few out of jail when youthful mistakes caught up with them. He was a businessman, certainly, but a benevolent one who genuinely cared about the people who worked for him.
Rapunzel glanced at the clock above the bar. Two more hours until closing, then she could finally head home to her small apartment and trade her work persona for comfortable pajamas and a good book.
“Another vodka tonic, honey?”
The familiar voice made Rapunzel turn with a practiced smile. Peppermint Patty sat at her usual spot at the end of the bar, credit card already out and ready. At thirty-five, Patty had grown into her confidence in ways that made her magnetic. Her short, dark hair was styled in a way that emphasized her sharp cheekbones, and she wore a fitted blazer that spoke of professional success.
“Coming right up,” Rapunzel said, already reaching for the vodka. She could feel Patty’s eyes following her movements as she built the drink—the way they always did.
Patty had been coming to Never Never Land for months now, always sitting at Rapunzel’s section of the bar, always tipping generously, and always making conversation that walked the line between friendly and flirtatious.
“You know,” Patty said as Rapunzel slid the drink across the bar, “I’ve been thinking about what you said last week about liking Thai food.”
Rapunzel’s smile remained perfectly in place even as her internal warning bells chimed. “Oh?”
“There’s this amazing place downtown—Siamese Garden. I was thinking maybe you’d like to check it out sometime? My treat, of course.”
It was smoothly done, Rapunzel had to admit. Not pushy, not desperate—just confident and direct.
Just then, Marcy bounced up to the bar, her tray empty and her smile bright. “Hey, Rapunzel! I need six tequila shots for table twelve and two cosmos for the couple in the corner booth.”
“You got it,” Rapunzel said, beginning to line up shot glasses.
Marcy turned to Patty with a flirtatious look. “Well, hello there, gorgeous. Nice to see you tonight.” She leaned against the bar in a way that showed off her assets. “I’m always happy to see you! And you are absolutely stunning.”
Patty smiled politely, but her attention remained focused on Rapunzel. “Thank you. That’s very sweet.”
Marcy wasn’t easily discouraged. “You know, if you ever want a private tour of the VIP area, I give excellent guided experiences.” She winked boldly.
Rapunzel finished the shots and set them on Marcy’s tray, then started on the cosmos. As Marcy headed back into the crowd, Rapunzel caught Patty’s amused expression.
“So why don’t you ever take Marcy up on her offers?” Rapunzel asked casually as she garnished a drink. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious she’s interested in you. Hell, even the three blind mice could see she’s into you.”
Patty chuckled, taking a sip of her vodka tonic. “Yeah, I mean she’s cute and all. I like her face, those lips, and I mean that cute little butt of hers is to die for.” She paused, her eyes meeting Rapunzel’s directly. “But I’m more interested in who I’m looking at right now.”
The words hung in the air between them, more direct than Patty’s usual subtle approach. Rapunzel felt heat rise in her cheeks but maintained her professional composure.
“That’s so sweet of you,” Rapunzel said, adding just the right amount of regret to her voice. “But I’ve been pulling double shifts lately to save up for my car repair. Rain check?”
Patty’s smile never wavered, but Rapunzel caught the brief flash of disappointment in her eyes. “Of course. Maybe when things slow down for you.”