Chapter 2

Morgan B. Clarke? More like Morgan Catgirl Clarke!

“Fifty ... sixty ... seventy ... eighty ... ninety ... one hundred!” Cinder Red said, as she slid the money from one pile to another pile, her thumb pushing the bills from their holding straps with a soft shush shush shush noise. “And that’s the count, two million, five hundred thousand, six hundred and eighty dollars.” She flashed a huge smile at Jeremy, who was sitting in his office chair, wishing he had a brown paper bag to breathe into. Penny and Nova cuddled against his sides, while Rayne lay on her belly, watching the piles of money as if they owed her something. Skye was just stalking back and froth, rubbing her palms together.

“Step one,” she said. “Seduce Jeremy’s mom.”

“How is that step one?” Jeremy asked. “You stole two million dollars from the bank!”

“Your mother’s clearly a noble of some kind, she has casual access to a magic mirror,” Skye said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the universe. “So, we use magic to make you appear to be another suitor, from a far off land. Maybe a Moore?”

“Moores are hot!” Penny said, cheerfully.

“Then, you marry her-”

Jeremy put his hands over his face.

“-then she can use her noble status to wipe away the little bank robbery thing we have here,” Skye said, smugly. “Step two, you fake your own death. Can’t have you be fucking your own mom as a Moore.”

“Oh, thank god,” Jeremy whispered.

“It’s way hotter when she knows it’s you!” Skye said, slamming her knuckles into her palm, her eyes gleaming eagerly.

“Yeah!” Penny said, throwing her arms up into the air. “Incest is wincest!”

Jeremy was pretty sure that even if it was still the 12th century, this plan had enough holes to count as a cheese-grater. And, like a cheese-grater, he wanted to get his dick as far away from it as he possibly could.

Liar, a tiny part of him whispered. The tiny part of him that had been slapped dumb by the sight of his mother sliding her blouse off, revealing her tramp stamp, her winding tribal tattoos, her fiercely assertive attitude. Jeremy wrapped his mental hands around that tiny part of him, squeezed it into a ball, kicked the ball into a mental sack, then threw the mental sack into the mental river, then put that mental river into space, then put the mental space into a box, then smashed it with a hammer.

“Firstly,” Jeremy said. “My mom’s not a noble. Secondly, there aren’t nobles. Thirdly, the Moores were kicked out of Spain in the 7th century! They haven’t been a major player in European politics for five centuries even before the point where you say your historical knowledge stops! So, like, fourthly, I am not going to be involved in any plan that starts at act three of Oedipus Rex and goes from there! And finally, last by far from least...” He pointed his finger right at Skye. “Aren’t you supposed to be someone who fights evil and battles injustice? How can you rob a bank!?”

“ ... I thought it was a dungeon,” Skye muttered, her head ducking forward. “And, you’re our protector. You deserve lots of money.”

“Jeremy?”

The voice that came through the door caused Jeremy to freeze in abject terror. Panic filled his brain. He opened his mouth, closed it, then saw the door swinging slowly inwards. The only good thing he could say about right now was that he had, at some point, put on pants. That was the only good thing about this situation because he hadn’t covered up the two million dollars in stolen money from the bank, the five completely naked half-human, half-dragon girls who were lounging around the room as if they owed the place, nor had he come up with an explanation for why he was here, home, and not at his first shift at Crazy Nick’s Wing Dump.

Because the voice was his mom.

Opening the door.

She stepped in at the same time a bright flash of light filled the air. When he blinked it away, he saw that the dragons had all shapeshifted. They looked remarkably similar to how they had before, save that their scales were gone, their tails were gone, their wings were gone, and they were wearing clothes. Cinder was dressed in a gothic lolita outfit with a frilly skirt in patterns of red and black, her red hair done up in a complicated ponytail braid thing. Penny was in a bright yellow T with jeans, while Skye was in bootie shorts, sandals, and a belly exposing halter top with silver stripes, which showed off her taut, nut-brown girl abs. Rayne was in a blue hoodie so big that it covered her entire gangly body, leaving her dark features the only thing visible atop a nearly perfect pyramid of blue jacket. Finally, Nova Cosmos was dressed in a pale white shift that looked like it’d have fit right in, if this had been a hippie commune around April 4th, 1968 and not right fucking now.

“Hello Mrs. Bayer!” All the dragons said at the same time as Mom stuck her head in.

“ ... Jeremy...” Mom said. “Who ... are ... these girls?”

“Uh...” Jeremy said, blinking. “ ... we’re ... in a group project.”

“Okay,” Mom said. “Why is there...” Her eyes swept along the piles of money. “Why is there a massive pile of money there?”

Jeremy, reaching desperately, fumbled around and caught on Season 3 of the NBC sitcom The Good Place. “I won a contest,” he said. “We won a contest.”

“Ah,” Mom said, her brow knitting forward. Jeremy tried to not think about how, with her blouse on and her skirts back around her hips, she looked completely professional. No one could see the tattoos. Nor the tramp stamp that invited random strangers to fuck her in the ass. Why, if you didn’t know better, you’d think she was Jeremy’s mom and not a cam-girl! Hysterical? Who was hysterical! Jeremy, Jeremy was hysterical right now. “What contest?”

“The ... Dragon Lottery!” Skye said, then winked at Jeremy with a huge grin.

“That’s not a thing,” Mom said, frowning.

“Yes it is,” Skye said, stammering. “It’s run by ... dragon ... s...”

“By dragons,” Mom said, her hands going to her hips. “Jeremy, what is-”

“GRAB HER!”

Jeremy yelped as Cinder sprang past him, and in a second, she and Rayne had both grabbed onto his Mom’s arms. Mom yelped as well, her legs kicking as the two dragons held her up with effortless ease, while Skye looked torn between helping them and shoving them off. Penny seemed deeply amused by everything, while Nova was looking off into the middle distance, her brow furrowing.

“What is going-” Mom started. Then Cinder leaned ahead of her, looked into her eyes, and began to croon.

“You are getting very sleepy,” she whispered.

Mom’s eyes widened. Her brow furrowed, but then started to relax out, her mouth opening as she looked into Cinder’s eyes. Jeremy froze, not quite sure what was going on, even as Cinder whispered, quietly. “Your arms are feeling heavy. Your head is feeling very empty. The only thing you can think of is the voice of a dragon, whispering in your ear. That voice is warm and comforting. That voice is everything. That voice is my voice. Do you hear my voice, Mrs. Bayer?”

“Mmmhmm,” Mom said, her head lolling slightly, her eyes now looking completely unfocused.

“Okay...” Cinder grinned as she lowered Mom down to the ground – Mom simply sat back on her knees, her hands on her thighs, her breath coming slow and steady as she looked off in the middle distance. “Now, you have learned that we have won a contest. The contest’s prize was two million dollars...”

“Oh,” Mom said, distantly.

“What are ... what is she doing?” Jeremy whispered to Penny.

“Hypnotizing her,” Penny said, and yet somehow, the words came out sounding like ‘duh doy, you dummy.’ Jeremy shook his head slowly and realized that this might be the only way to get out of this without ruining everything. It wasn’t like his Mom was going to buy dragons or bank robbery without freaking out like crazy.

“Your son has five new friends, and has had them for a while, and that’s quite normal,” Cinder crooned. “Do you understand all of this Mrs. Bayer?”

“I do,” Mom said, her lips turning up slightly, her eyes still unfocused.

“Okay,” Cinder said, then licked her lips. “So, starting from most favorite to least favorite, what are your most intense kinks.”

“CINDER!” Jeremy exclaimed at the same time his Mom said what was clearly ‘NTR’, her hypnotized head wobbling from side to side.

“What!?” Cinder asked, looking at Jeremy, as if he was the weirdo. “ ... also, what?”

“Skye, please put my Mom somewhere where Cinder can’t molest her!” Jeremy said, and Skye sprang to do just that, dragging Mom up and away, while Cinder pouted and looked up at him through her eyelashes. “And NTR is short for noe ... eo ... ne ... it’s Japanese. It means, like ... you’re dating a girl, then some fat bastard fucks her, while you watch?”

“Oooh!” Cinder said. “So, being a French peasant on your wedding night? Weird.”

“That’s not why Mom likes it!” Jeremy said, then flushed as he realized how fucking weird it was to say that. He gritted his teeth. “Dad walked out on her when I was, like, ten. He revealed it by divorcing her and, like, a week later marrying someone half her age in Vegas. Mom ... I mean, you saw the cam show she was putting on! It’s obvious she’s working through her issues about that! ... with ... stripping.” He coughed. “It’s the 21st century, that’s fine, women can do that now!”

“I wasn’t saying anything,” Cinder said, raising her hands.

Skye returned, looking smug. “I’ve deposited your mother, safely, upon her noble bed! She shall reawaken with only the memories that Cinder implanted and nothing else,” she said, her hands on her hips. Jeremy sighed in relief, then rubbed his palms against his face.

“Okay,” he said. “But we can’t just keep this money.”

“Why not?” Penny asked.

“Because...” Jeremy paused. He wasn’t actually sure where or how banks got their money. He had once watched a youtube video about the economic crash that had happened he was two years old, but had come away from it all with approximately the same level of knowledge he had when he had been two years old. To him, banks were just where spiteful late-fee fairies lived to nibble a few extra bucks off every paycheck the family cashed. “ ... because cops?”

“But I was invisible,” Skye pointed out. “Yes, there are consequences because your money is magic, but those consequences are that the money just vanished into thin air. They can’t find us, so, you know, if we’re careful with the money, we can keep it.”

Jeremy bit his lip. He let himself imagine not having to work two jobs. He let himself imagining buying a better house. With a pool. Of course, two million dollars wasn’t enough for a nice house with a pool, it wasn’t like his dragons would steal him a house. He considered that possibility – but before he could even entertain it, a faint thumping bass note began to fill the air. He groaned. “Great, my sisters are coming back from their shift,” he said.

“You have sisters?” Penny asked, perking up.

“Yeah, twins, why?” Jeremy asked before he was almost bowled over by every single dragon rushing to the window at once. His face ended up mashed against the glass as he saw Morgan’s swanky ass Tesla driving up to the curb, with Jenny or Jessica lounging in the seat, her arm hung over the window, which was rolled down, her brown hair trailing in the wind. Morgan was looking smug as he drove up, then grinned at Jessica or Jenny or whichever of Jeremy’s twin sisters were sitting there.

“I only see one!” Penny said as Jenny or Jessica made out with the boy who had been beating Jeremy up since he had been twelve. “She’s cute though! Love the ponytail.”

“Give it a second,” Jeremy grumbled as his sister slid from the Tesla. A moment later, his other sister’s head popped up from where she had been ducked forward, her activities concealed by the door. She licked her lips, popped back a water bottle, rinsed her mouth, and still only got a pec on the cheek from Morgan because the dude was so fucking insecure that he wanted to make sure everyone knew how not gay he was while he was dating twins. Both of them! At the same fucking time!

“Ooooooooh!” Penny said.

“I don’t get it,” Rayne said, while Skye looked just as confused.

“She was giving him stagecoach head,” Penny whispered over Jeremy’s head as his sisters headed for the front door, chatting cheerfully with one another. They came to the front door, while Jeremy extricated himself from the dragon girls and hurried to the front door. He opened it for his sisters, who both smiled at him, both still dressed in the incredibly cute uniforms that they wore for their job at Wendies.

“Hey Jere!” they said, in unison, and Jeremy gave them a weak smile.

“So, you two, uh, have good shifts?” He asked, stepping back as they walked inside. He started thinking, furiously, about how he was going to explain the five dragons that were about to pounce on the two of them, but ... the expected pounce didn’t come. Instead, Jenny and Jessica walked to the kitchen table and sat down with groans, sagging in their chairs.

“As good as can be expected,” Jess said. Then she grinned. “Jen had the better end of the shift.”

Jenny giggled and blushed and leaned in to whisper in her sister’s ear. Jeremy was pretty sure he had heard the word ‘celery and cinimon’ and, from his googling on the subject of ‘cum’ and ‘taste better’ and ‘for girls giving me head’, he knew what that conversation meant and decided to retreat as fast as he fucking could.

“I’ll make dinner in a bit!” he said, backing up and up and up into his room, before turning to face the five dragon girls, about to explain to them how dinner worked.

The five dragon girls...

Were gone.

After cooking food, eating food, cleaning up the house, and hanging up frantically on a furious call from both of his bosses, Jeremy was halfway to the point where he might have been able to think that the dragon girls had all been in his imagination. They had taken the money that they had stolen. There was no sign of damage. Nothing to show that they had been anything but the result of a whack to the head while running through a forest.

Halfway there, yes.

But not all the way there.

And as Jeremy laid down in bed, he looked up at the ceiling, and forced himself to confront the one thing that hadn’t vanished in smoke. His hand glided along his naked body, down down his cock, and he closed his fingers around himself. His fingertips didn’t touch his palm. His cock hardened and the tent that thrust up against his comforter was so huge that he would have guessed a girl was under his blankets, her head propping up a huge chunk of cloth.

He rolled onto his side, biting his lip. If the dragons were real – and the magic they’d worked on his cock was pretty overwhelming proof that they were – then where had they gone? Why? They needed him to be around to be safe, right? So where had they run off too? And why had they taken the money? Jeremy closed his eyes, his hand working along his cock as he remembered Skye’s abs and Penny’s breasts and Rayne’s delicious ass. He bit his lower lip, worries beginning to melt away as he remembered the feeling of a draconic cunt around him...

“Fuck...” He whispered, stroking himself faster and faster, imagining grabbing onto Nova’s horns, shoving her head down, fucking her spacy ass like she owed him the world. His hand jerked faster and faster, the bedsprings squeaking and squealing. He panted, whimpered, and then groaned into his pillows as he came and came hard, thick spunk gushing from his cock, soaking his comforter and his bed. He lay there, dizzy ... and was still hard.

“Fuck,” he whispered.

When he finally did manage to get to sleep, he had needed to change out his sheets.

The next morning, Jeremy’s hardon reminded him how not a dream the dragons had been. He managed to get his underwear on, but the obscene way his newly enhanced cock bulged against the cloth, he might as well have not even bothered. He found that the shower was still nill on hot water. “Great,” he whispered.

When he was dressed and somewhat clean, he came downstairs to find that Mom was humming as she cooked breakfast. She smiled at him, turning to face him. “Hey, honey,” she said. “I was thinking of how to spend the money you won on the contest. I think we should save a big chunk of it as a nest egg. Maybe a college fund?” She nodded to him, and Jeremy gulped.

“Y-Yeah,” he said.

Mom walked over, then put the bacon and eggs she had cooked for him on the table. “I think you deserve only the best, honey,” she said, leaning in close, her arm sliding around his, squeezing him as her full breasts pressed against his shoulder. She kissed his ear – and for just a moment, her teeth grazed along his earlobe. Jeremy’s entire face heated as she giggled and stepped back, swishing her hips from side to side.

Was Mom’s skirt shorter?

It looked shorter. Jeremy watched her walk over, then bend down to fish out some more dishes – her skirt riding up, showing the cleft of her-

“Jeremy?”

Jeremy jerked so hard that he almost knocked the table over. He snapped his head over and saw that Jess and Jen were walking down the stairs, their brows furrowed in a pair of identical expressions. “What?” He asked.

“I just ... said good morning, you weirdo,” Jessica said, snorting.

“Right. Good morning.” He said. Mom was standing up now. And he definitely didn’t care about her skirt. He started to shovel bacon and eggs into his mouth as his sisters sat down and chattered about boys and cuties and cheerleading and everything else that they cared about. Jeremy kept glancing around, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Well. The other dragon to drop, he supposed.

When he got to school, that shoe?

Failed to drop.

Which just made it worse. Jeremy was about halfway through his first period, taking notes as the teacher droned on and on, when he realized what it was that was wrong: Morgan hadn’t beaten him up. Shit, Morgan hadn’t even asked for homework. He wouldn’t have gotten any homework, because Jeremy had been a bit too distracted by the fact that dragons were fucking real. But still. No Morgan. No dragons. He frowned and hoped to god that was unrelated. Please, please god, let that be unrelated.

At third period, there was a change up so banal and expected that the only reason why it caused Jeremy to notice it at all was the fact his nerves were jangling like the bells of Notre Dame. His English teacher, Miss Bevenfold, had been a creepy decrepit wrinkled old prune-like statue for basically his entire time in high school and he was pretty sure she had been wrinkly and old when his mom had been in high school and would be wrinkly and old long after he was in the ground. But it seemed entropy claimed all things, even 102 year old spinsters, and Miss Bevenfold was retiring.

In her place was a new teacher. All expected.

Less expected was the way every teen girl in the class and a quarter of the boys – both bi and gay – sighed with dreamy fascination as the new teacher walked in. He was tall and broad shouldered and had the dark brown-gold skin of someone who had started off as less than milk white then gone on to work in the sun a lot. Work out in the sun a lot was more likely, considering the way his professional looking suit strained against shoulder muscles and pectoral muscles and biceps. He had a long red tie, dark undershirt, and a bald head, and had just the biggest smile as he walked before the class.

“Hello everyone!” He said, cheerfully. “I’m Mr. Beowulf St. George, I will be your English teacher for the rest of the school year.”

His eyes met Jeremy’s and flashed with murderous intensity as Jeremy sat bolt upright. Beowulf had slain a dragon in his epic poem – though the hero had been killed in the battle thanks to a bit of a status ailment from the dragon’s fang. Saint George had slain a dragon in Libya, and in exchange everyone in the region had been baptized into Christianity.

This was like if Jeremy had been a vampire, meeting a guy named Abraham Summers Belmont.

Jeremy gulped.

Mr. St George narrowed his eyes. Oh yeah, those eyes said. I’m a dragon hunter. And I know you know I’m a dragon hunter. And thus, you know that I know that you know that I’m a dragon hunter. Which means that you know I know you have some goddamn dragons.

Jeremy tried to look very un-draconic.

“Now, I know you’ve all been reading Joseph Campbell – and I know, you’re all very excited to get to Star Wars,” Mr. St. George said, cheerfully. “But according to the notes that Miss Bevenfield left me, you were right on step five ... Belly of the Dragon.” The book said belly of a whale. But the class didn’t seem to care as Mr. St. George looked right at Jeremy again. “There are a lot of historical and mythological traits that Campbell is drawing on here, lets talk about some, starting with, of course, Enkidu...”

When the class finally, mercifully, ended, Jeremy started to stand up and cram textbooks into his backpack, when Mr. St. George said: “Oh, and Mr. Bayers, may I speak to you quickly, before you go to lunch?”

Jeremy gulped. He walked to the desk, every footfall feeling like his last. He stood a good arm’s length from the desk, while other students walked out, chatting to one another. Mr. St. George looked at him with a warm smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You seemed to be ... quite interested in today’s discussions,” he said, his voice warm. Welcoming. “Was there anything more you wanted to talk about after class? Any ... eggs you wanted to hatch, so to speak?”

Jeremy gulped. “Uh. No. Sir.”

“Please. Call me Beo,” Mr. St. George said.

“Okay! Beo,” Jeremy said.

“May I call you Jeremy?” Mr. St. George asked.

“S-Sure!” Jeremy said, nodding. “Uh, was there anything else you wanted to, uh, talk about?”

“Oh, no, I just wanted to touch base with you,” Mr. St. George said. “Don’t get lost in the ... hoard out there.” His eyes flicked to the thronging corridors beyond – and yet, somehow, Jeremy could hear the ‘hoard’ as ‘hoard’ and not as ‘horde.’ It was all in the ominousness dripping from every bit of Mr. St. George’s voice. “And remember that old saying about ... those who hunt dragons.”

“R-Right! Don’t become one,” Jeremy said, walking backwards. “I’ll remember.”

“See that you do ... Mr. Bayers...” Mr. St. George said, his face growing shadowed as he put his fingertips together and leaned back in his seat, watching Jeremy as Jeremy practically flew out of the classroom.

Jeremy thought he would get through the rest of the day without a heart attack, until he stripped down to his underwear for PE and the boy next to him in the locker room said: “Holy shit!” And Jeremy remembered he now had a dick that would make a horse blush. He hastily got dressed as the other boys tried to check out what the frick was going on before he jetted away – but wearing PE shorts meant that the girls could see the bulge too, and the attention that was glued to him was ... uh...

Okay.

The way that Cindi Fong bit her lip, and flushed, and her eyes widened?

That felt nice.

But after dodging the balls and managing to keep his dick from popping out of his short-leg or ripping the fabric when he got a hardon watching the girls jog ahead of him, Jeremy was able to change back into his clothes and begin the walk home – which was a huge relief, considering how terrifying today had been.

And then.

At last.

The shoe dropped.

His phone buzzed and he pulled it out – and saw it was a call from Morgan. He closed his eyes, then put it to his ear. “Yeah, Morgan, what do you-”

“Shut up. Get. Over. Here. Right. Now.” Morgan’s voice was a low, fierce growl, utterly furious. “Or I will fucking kill you.”

He hung up. Jeremy, though, had noticed something was faintly off about Morgan’s growl. Like he had started to come down with something? He wasn’t sure – but if Morgan was sick, that would make sense. Though, Jeremy had no idea why Morgan would want to ... okay, no, he knew exactly why Morgan would want him to visit when Morgan was sick: To get him sick. Because fuck you. Jeremy considered blowing him off ... but then he remembered the last time he had tried to blow Morgan off. He sighed, then started to trudge away from school.

Fortunately, Morgan B. Clark’s family, the Clarks, lived within a short walk of the school. This didn’t stop Morgan from driving his freaking Tesla to school every day, just to show off that his dad was an investment banker who’d gotten rich by foreclosing on family businesses that had gone under during COVID, then parlayed that into buying apartment complexes to rent to people at murderous rates. It also meant that within a few short minutes of walking, Jeremy was in the swanky part of town. The lawns were wider, and had actual gardeners. The houses glittered with large front windows and they had two, three stories.

Jeremy could smell the chlorine from the pools.

He came to Morgan’s place and didn’t see Morgan’s mom, a preposterously beautiful trophy wife with tits so fake she might as well have been chrome, nor did he see his father. Instead, he just was able to walk right up to the front door, then ring the doorbell.

No one answered, but Jeremy’s cellphone buzzed. He looked at it and saw a text: IT’S UNLOCKED.

Jeremy’s brow furrowed and he grabbed onto the knob, then opened it and stepped inside, looking around curiously. Big entrance area, with a curved stairway heading up to the second story. The whole place smelled fresh and clean. He noticed a pair of shoes by the front door – Morgan’s shoes, duh – and they looked like they hadn’t been touched all day. “Morgan?” he called out.

“In here,” Morgan’s voice was a rough rasp and Jeremy stepped over to a darkened doorway. Morgan was in the kitchen of the place, which was an interior room without windows. The lights were off and the other doors were shut, so the room was lit only by the thin wedge of sunlight that slid past Jeremy’s legs and shoulders. He could just barely see a lump of cloth and blankets that might have been Morgan, sitting in the kitchen. “Now, you are going to get those freaking psychos and get them to fix me.”

Jeremy blinked. “Psychos?” He asked, his brow furrowing. The other shoe dropped. The third one this day. “The girls!”

“Yeah!” Morgan’s voice cracked, as if he was in puberty. Jeremy reached for the light. “Don’t-”

The light flicked on and Jeremy blinked.

Morgan, even wrapped up in blankets, could not hide what had happened to him.

Or...

What had happened to ... her.

Her features were sleek and feminine, her hair was a long cascade of blond hair, her eyes were the same ice blue, and despite the blankets, Jeremy could see she was fucking stacked, to use a scientific term. She drew the blankets tighter around herself, glaring daggers at him as Jeremy gaped at her. She squirmed, rubbing her thighs together, her cheeks heating. “This is all your fault!” she said, not trying to disguise the fact her voice was high and feminine now. “You and your psycho girlfriends!”

She pointed a single finger at Jeremy. This caused her blanket to fall forward slightly, revealing a muscular shoulder and the curve of her breast. Her fingernails were finely manicured and bright pink and extremely girly. “S-So get them to fix it you ... you ... asshole!”

“I didn’t mean to ... I ... they just did this!” Jeremy said, hurrying forward. “I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry!?” She stood up, and the blanket slipped partially off her shoulder. Morgan hastily put her hand on her chest, to pin the blanket, but this meant she wasn’t holding the other side and she was left standing in the kitchen with her front covered and her bare ass to the wind, her cheeks heated. “Oh come on, don’t try and pretend you’re not loving this, you hunky bastard!” She glared at Jeremy.

Hunky? Jeremy thought. “What? I-” He shook his head. “Do I, part of me, appreciate the fact that you finally got a tiny bit of a little comeuppance for being a major jerk to me for years? Yes. But, like, I’m not gonna ... rape you or anything!” He threw up his hands. “Unlike you, I’m not an asshole!”

Morgan’s cheeks heated. She glared daggers at him, then snarled. “Oh, you think you’re so honorable and noble!” She said, angrily.

“I mean, I think ‘honorable and noble’ requires more of a fucking bar to clear than ‘doesn’t rape people’, yes,” Jeremy said, unaware of how many people in the world would have failed to clear even that. “Listen, just, where did they go?” That was when the plastic cup bounced off his forehead.

It was not a very dense or heavy plastic cup, but it still bonked into him and rebounded into the air. Jeremy rubbed his hand, his brow furrowing, while Morgan glared at him. “Stop that!” She shouted.

“Stop what!?” Jeremy asked.

“Being so fucking hot!” Morgan shouted. “I’m into girls! Except ... here ... you are being all honorable and nice and fucking ripped and ... and ... holy shit...” Her eyes dripped down to his crotch. “I ... f-fuck, is your ... I ... argh!” She let her blanket drop and this was when Jeremy learned that not only were her breasts large and perfect, not only was her belly flat and sleek, not only was her ass so taut that it looked like he could bounce a quarter off it – and he could tell that from her front because it was so bubbly – but also, she had no pubic hair.