D: L&L - Part 46 | Lion: Being the Bossman

The smell of Glinda still clung to my fur. Sweat, blood, magic—hers and mine, tangled so deep even the hottest shower couldn’t wash it out. I’d tried, but try as I might this last year, there was one smell I couldn’t wash away — didn’t want to lose the scent of — her cunt. Smell it. Taste it. Hear her moans ringing in my ears. All I had to do was close my eyes, and she was there in all her glory to punish and push me until the Roar.

It was the only thing that could break her spells, and we both knew it. She’d given that to me, and I’d given her everything else she wanted.

She wanted the Roar. She needed it. What creature didn’t tremble when the full-throated song of my own need shook the walls around us. The manacles came free and then my cock, and she was running, fleeing for her life, the Ruby Slippers dropped on the floor in the middle of her chamber of seduction. Kill her I could. In an instant. And I’d considered it again and again after the things she did, but hearing the screams filling the dark halls of her tower always reminded me why we played so.

How much I wanted to gut her from cunt to throat with a single long claw. The flick of a finger, even in my newest state — half man, half beast — would kill her, and she knew it. Without the slippers, she was just a woman. Prey. And yet, the scent of her slick, juicy slice would hit me, the sound of her unfettered fear echoing in my ears, the words from her ruby lips pleading, full of desperation and agonizing ache. By the Unnamed God, the joy of the pounce, bone-crunching, spine-shattering, driving her into the floor, her face up in a mask of terrible bliss, bloody and raw.

And then her dress in shreds, her ass up and pushing back as I slid inside, and the need for blood, the kill I wanted so badly, replaced with a lust that was beyond logic.

I fucked her until she was broken, then dragged her limp body back to her chambers and took her again.

No one would ever know, but in those moments, I was the King I’d always been meant to be. And she was my Queen.

I sat behind my desk, staring through the emerald-tinted window at the city below, seeing nothing and yet seeing it all again and again. From up here, The Turn looked almost peaceful. Elegant. Like a puzzle box shifting its hidden seams as the city remade itself. But the gnawing in my gut reminded me it was anything but peaceful. It was just her way of reminding us all who owned time itself.

I flexed my claws against the polished mahogany desktop, feeling the grooves I’d carved there last week. Cu’ had stood right there, stuttering out his bullshit. Bravado. Betraying himself and me. I could almost hear his whine echoing in my ears as I’d shoved him backward, the mirror rippling like water, swallowing him whole.

“Charleese,” I growled.

She flinched from her place by the filing cabinet. Poor thing looked like she hadn’t slept in a week. She probably hadn’t, knowing today I’d be back. Knowing what I was like after a night with Glinda. Knowing what I was. She would never speak a word of it. Cunt to throat — I wouldn’t hesitate to spill her all over the floor and call in the dogs to clean up the mess.

“Y-yes, Mr. Leo?” Her voice wavered, too high, too sweet. I wanted to claw it out of her throat just to hear the sweet song of silence.

“Coffee. Meat. News feeds. And find Cu’.”

Her eyes flicked up at me, wide and terrified. She’d probably spent the whole morning looking for him already. She knew. They all did, deep down. But no one would say it. Not to me.

“Right away, sir,” she squeaked, scurrying from the room. All legs and tits and ass, but it wasn’t worth a sniff. Not when you have the perfect Queen.

I leaned back in my chair and let out a slow exhale, staring up at the carved tin ceiling. My chest felt too tight, my skin too hot. My cock throbbed with leftover hunger, and my heart pounded with leftover fear. I wasn’t sure which drove me crazier. The transformation was almost complete. How much Lion would be left when it was done?

She’d agreed to it — to the magic, to the change, if only a partial transition. And I’d agreed, flexing my lengthening fingers, watching my snout shrink, feeling my jaw ache. I stood tall now on two legs, taller than most. My mane gone, but the same color hair long and thick and spilling down over my shoulders. The fur gone, replaced by warm skin the color of tarnish bronze. But the hunger was still there. The rippling muscles that propelled me faster on all fours when I ran her down.

And the Roar. I wouldn’t lose that. Couldn’t. If I did, … If there was no more terror in her eyes, would she still want me?

The news feeds flickered to life on my desk, headlines tumbling over each other like rats in a barrel:

“Beloved Shiz U Doctor Found Slain – Investigation Underway.”
“Terrifying Fog Settles over Munchkinland. Land of Mirth and Joy Goes Silent.”
“Mysterious House Appears in Hills above Bright Lettins. Security Level Raised to Amber.”

I snorted. Dr. NaNa. That bitch had been a problem waiting to happen. Cu’ had said as much in some earlier exchanges. I’d suspected him of being a sympathizer right up until I’d given him a little push. And what did NaNa hope to accomplish? A fool at Shiz U, stirring up trouble and filling the minds of the Oz youth with dreams — of what? A grander land? A joyous Oz filled with mirth and glee, something akin to the foolish little candylanders who suggested Dorothy “follow the Yellow Brick Road?”

How long had it been since she had? How long since she found that fool with a pole up his ass in the middle of a cornfield. And that empty tin can? We walked that road, the road to the Emerald City, to toil and fear and near death, following a dream that was based on lies. A scroll. A ticking tin heart. A badge of courage. All delivered by a charlatan who hid behind a curtain.

I watched The Turn as it ended. The power there — power to change the entire city. To change Oz. To change me. And her — it had changed her. I couldn’t dismiss that. But when I mounted her, my fangs grazing her delicate skin, my cock buried inside her in all the ways that she craved. By the Unnamed God, I drank down the change and licked my lips afterward.

She was no charlatan; she thrummed with power. She willed all of Oz into being now, and I would be there by her side til the end.

I ran a claw along my lower lip, feeling where she’d bitten me last night. Glinda. Empress. Goddess. Whore. She’d left me empty again. Empty and full of rage and want and guilt and confusion until they were all the same sick color in my gut. I watched The Turn, and all I could see was her turning to face me, the rage all washed away, the tears streaking her face, the fury broken like a cheap spell, if only for a moment.

Did she love me? I took a deep breath, shocked that I’d even thought it.

Charleese reappeared, carrying a tray with coffee and a steaming steak, still red enough to bleed. Her hands shook so badly the cup rattled against the saucer. I snatched it from her before she could spill it, nearly wrenching her wrist from its socket.

“Careful,” I growled.

“Thank you, Mr. Leo,” she whispered, eyes glued to the floor.

I watched her for a moment, my vision tunneling with hunger and anger and something like grief. She smelled like prey. Like fear. Like forgiveness. I wanted to bury my muzzle in her neck and rip out whatever softness was left inside her. I wanted to hold her and hear her scream. I wanted—

“Get out.”

Charleese fled without a word, leaving the room silent but for the buzzing of the news feeds and the pounding of my heart.

I picked up my fork and knife and stared at my fingers, my hand, my paws. 

What were they? What was I? 

A year ago, I would have pulled the steak apart with my fangs, ripping the meat and sucking on the fatty pieces, dark red juices matting the fur beneath my maw. Almost feeling the death of the thing that had breathed one last breath before finding its way to my plate. I would have downed the wine in a gulp, pulled on the whole bottle, and swallowed it all, letting it spill down my shirt like so much blood.

I flexed my fingers, watching the joints bend like a man’s. Human. Weak. But when I closed my fist, I still felt the echo of claws, the bone-snap power coiling in my forearm. 

The Lion wasn’t gone yet.

I looked up, found Charleese lingering in the doorway, her back to me, eyes peering over her shoulder seductively. She’d loved to watch me eat, always hovering too close after she delivered my dinner. I could smell what she wanted, and I’d never hesitated to take it.

How many times had I grabbed Charleese, ripped her blouse open, sucked on her nipples and left a dribble of blood from a careless fang? How many times had Cu’, watching from the doorway with that shit-eating grin on his face, clear the plates and bottles from the table so I could bend Charleese’s supple body over and ravage her? How many times had I left the gentlest of bite marks on her bare shoulders, claw marks on her hips and throat? How many times had she cum screaming? The girl didn’t know what she was or what she wanted, but I did, and I gave it to her, whether she wanted it or not.

And now? Now I sat here and chewed my steak one carefully cut bit at a time. One slow, luxurious mouthful after another, and yet barely tasting it. 

“Out!” I roared.

She shrieked and disappeared.

Cu’ was gone. Dr. NaNa was dead. The Bunnies were stirring. Glinda was raging. And me? I was the King of Emerald City Records, wasn’t I?

But deep down, under the receding fur, dulling claws and tamed blood, I was just another animal in a cage, waiting for my Empress to decide when to feed me again. And wondering about that house in Bright Lettins and what it meant. 

Maybe the house had come for me. For the man I was becoming. 

Or maybe it had come for the Lion I’d left behind.