A Married Anon goes on a Date with His Wife

For a normal couple there is no greater source of tension than dealing with the in-laws. In their defense they’ve got a reason for it; the in-laws have a lifetime of memories with their precious little girl and here you come, the big bad husband, to take their darling daughter away. Especially tense is the relationship between a man and his father-in-law. If a father were to even think of his son-in-law raising a hand against his sweet baby, his little girl who not so long ago said that she wanted to marry her daddy, he wouldn’t hesitate to bust his way into his daughter’s home armed to the teeth and lay down the law.

Yours came in with a fruit basket and a pill bottle of vicodin. Things are definitely different with a Dragon wife; your father-in-law doesn’t see you as a thieving bastard who’s been screwing his innocent little baby but as an inexperienced fellow survivor. You shot his daughter with 20 rounds of 45 ACP ball? He’ll recommend 10mm hollow points for the next time and promise to lend you a flash bang later. Your daughter took the pistol you shot her with? He’ll pass you his back-up carry piece under the table. Your wife tells him and his wife about the resulting 24 hour ball-busting, pelvic-pulverizing, dick-devastating rough sex you had with her after all that? He’ll put his arm around you and let you cry into his shoulder. In other words, he’s the only person that understands. He understands because he didn’t just survive marrying a Dragon, he also survived her daughters.

A few weeks after the “bag incident” and here you are at the dinner table with Tuon, Momma Dragon, and your mentor. Tuon’s been regaling her parents with the events of that night, mostly for her father’s sake. Momma Dragon had an eyewitness view of the whole night, seeing as she was responsible for your failed escape. Of course, Tuon breezes through what she calls your “pathetic show of resistance” and spends most of the tale on the details of your lovemaking. You don’t really pay attention; you were there for the most of it and after getting that last screw taken out yesterday you really don’t want to think back on how it got there in the first place. Tomorrow is the big day for you; no more wheel chair after tonight. You look at your wife. She’s getting really into her story, using her large claws to show the exact position in which you were joined when the third fracture occurred. That one was actually pretty amazing. Maybe later tonight she can give you an encore? Minus the hip-breaking. You decide to change the subject though to something less depressing.

“…and he was so enraptured, his shattered hips were moving on their-“

“So, what’s the story behind the name ‘Tuon’?”

Tuon turns in her seat next to you to face you, her alabaster Grecian face turned in an adorable pout. You smile an apology to her and bring your hand to rest lightly on her cheek. The feeling of soft silk pervades your senses though your hand as you caress her, her face flushed with embarrassment as she ever so slightly nuzzles against your palm, her eyes glistening with desire. You stare deep into those emeralds of hers and-

“Should we give you two some alone time?” Your father-in-law asks in that unique tone of his, a gruff baritone that somehow invokes both his lifetime of experience and the steel that he’s made of; it was the voice of an old warrior, old but stronger for it. Your wife blushes, you didn’t think it was possible for her to turn even redder. She stiffens and you draw back your hand. The old man smiles at that little display of affection and continues on.

“Ah, Tuon. Back in the day I used to read voraciously. Got her name from a book, the name of an empress. A strong empress, a name fit for a Dragon. Of course, someone wasn’t ready to listen to her husband.”

“I was younger then, still trying to test you dear. No Dragon would let her husband choose the name of her first daughter without first ensuring he was worthy of the honor.” Momma Dragon smiling wistfully behind her tea cup. “Although our contest was a little strange.”

You haven’t heard this story before. You lean forward in your wheel chair. Absently you feel Tuon’s claw lightly slap your hand; seems like your left hand had been making a journey without your explicit instructions from her knee up towards her inner thigh. You pull your hand back and use your other to grab a scone from the table. Your after dinner tea always tasted better with a scone and a story. Your father-in-law laughs.

“That it was, love. I still remember it. As soon as I said winner picks her name you got all riled up, even tried to roast me with that fire of yours.”

“I was just getting motivated for what I thought was going to be a normal fight. I never would have thought you meant to bet our firstborn’s name on a game of Jeopardy.”

“HUrk.” You start choking on your tea. A game of Jeopardy? How did you come up with that, old man?

“Aye, we did our own little scorekeeping. Of course, I was winning the entire game.”

“Hush, we were tied until the very end.”

The older man grins at you. “I prepared for months beforehand; she would always be catching me watching ol’ Trebek. She’d see me all riled up and it got her interested. Besides, she always was a clever one and proud of it; a test of might she’d win 99 out of a 100 and give it no mind, but a game of wit, well that kind of contest she’d be gloating over until I kicked it.”

Momma Dragon blushes like a shy schoolgirl. Tuon leans over to me and confides with me. “Mother always gets embarrassed from this story. Especially the end.” She shows me a rather mischievous smile, rare to see on my imperious wife. “I love this part the most.”

Your in-law continues. “Well, we were tied at the very end. Final Jeopardy time. The question was on Monster Girls. ‘Which Monster Girl is unanimously considered to be the best mother and wife?’ We both wrote down our answers and our bets. The answer came up as Kikimora. So I turn to my wife, and she wrote down Dragon. Bet it all on that too.” He laughs even harder than before, Tuon is giggling, but Momma Dragon is blushing so hard you’re scared she’s going to catch fire and turn into a Salamander. It might be best to end the story quickly.

“What’d you put down, old timer?” The old timer in question settles down a bit and gives his wife an affectionate look.

“I put her name down. Bet everything but a dollar.” He wraps his arm around his wife. She tries to lose herself in her tea cup, but you see her reciprocate and lean into him. He gives her a chaste kiss on the forehead and turns back to you. You’re really happy to see this heartwarming scene, but you’d like them to keep it down a bit. Smoke’s coming from Momma Dragon’s ears and you’d rather not have to find out if your homeowner’s insurance covers ‘embarrassed Dragon in-law’.

“So I won. Named my dear daughter Tuon.” He smiles at your wife, that stern old soldier’s face turning into that of a doting parent. Tuon smiles back, a beaming brilliant smile. Her wagging tail tells you everything you need to know about how she feels right now: at peace, at home. You lean back into your wheelchair and sip at your tea. This is the kind of evening that really makes you miss your family back home. You promise to yourself to call back home soon.

“Enough about these old farts and their stories. Tell me princess, how’ve you and Mr.Wheels been?” Your father-in-law asks, a glint in his eyes. You frown a bit; you’ve actually grown attached to the wheelchair.

“Well Father, besi-“ Your father-in-law interrupts Tuon.

“Come on princess. Don’t make no pretense now.”

“...um…P…apa…” Tuon blushes. Wow, Tuon’s dad really knows how to get his womenfolk all nice and self-conscious. You might want to take notes. She soldiers on. “Other than those two little events Toy and I have been busy of late. We really haven’t had time to-“

Momma Dragon cuts in, having recovered her composure. “Tuon, that’s no excuse. Make time. Why, your father and I always had time for each other; even if he was on an archeological site raiding old Pharaohs’ tombs he’d always make it so we could have one day a week together.” You look at Tuon’s father and let out a low whistle. Damn, an archeologist and a tomb raider? You would have wagered maybe for a soldier of some sort. Tuon’s mother continues. “Even if I had to fly 12,000 miles to see him I did. Tuon, sit up straight.”

Tuon stiffens in her seat, back straight, face frozen like a child being scolded by a strict librarian. Momma Dragon takes the scone she had on her plate and starts gesturing with it like a teacher would with a ruler. “Have you given him back his fangs yet?” Fangs? Oh, your guns? Nope, they’re still locked up; cleaning them is going to be a bitch when you do get them back. Tuon doesn’t answer and Momma Dragon takes that as a ‘no’. “I didn’t raise any of my daughters to declaw her husband for so long. A little time out, yes, to remind him of the consequences for losing but a strong Dragon has a strong husband. If you don’t allow him the right to resist you, then your dominance means nothing. What did I tell you about dominating your husband?” Momma Dragon gestures with the scone towards the downcast Tuon who mumbles an answer. You didn’t catch it but Momma sure did. “Yes. I told you that quite often. Now, have you?” Tuon mumbles again, this time even more quietly. Momma Dragon doesn’t look pleased at her answer and continues to put her on blast.  “No daughter of mine will even momentarily neglect her husband. You are going to march straight into work tomorrow and ask for a few days off. You WILL take this time to do right by him. I’ll let you choose how.” Momma Dragon turns to you, and asks you gently “Tell me, boya, when are your next days off?” You stiffen for a moment as a malevolent entity takes hold of your mind and she continues on without you. “No matter, go and take some time off. Have a little time to yourselves.” She notices your blank petrified look. “What’s the matter?”

You’re surprised when you hear your own voice, because you don’t have control over your mouth right now. IT does. IT which mustn’t be remembered. IT which mustn’t be named. You wish you could scream as you try to claw your way back into control. You fail.

“On any floor, at any office, go to the secretary. Ask to speak to the Keeper of Time. If a look of absolute terror comes over the secretary’s face, you will soon be taken to an office with no windows or lights. It will be deep within the building on a floor that has no number. You will see nothing but a calendar. You will hear nothing but the sound of a woman speaking in words that have no meaning, but will fill you with unspeakable dread. If the woman stops, you must say the words: ‘I’m not a supervisor. I’m only requesting leave.’ If she stays silent, flee behind you. Never stop, never rest until your body drops from exhaustion. You’ll know you’ve survived if you wake in the morning and still have your scheduled days off. If she speaks again, you may touch the calendar. If you do, you will be taken to a cell where a woman with 8 limbs is holding an object. She will not respond to anything except if you speak of a certain day. You must tell her which day you want off, only one. She will respond by attempting to show you the object. Don’t look. If you do, you’ll go mad and beg for death because you’ll be given mandatory overtime. If you don’t, she’ll tell you a day. When she does, leave and don’t look back. Your time off will be on that day. It will not be the day you’ve chosen. The object in her hands is 1 of 498. They must not come together. Not again.”

You go slack, the eldritch being relinquishing its grasp on your soul. While you try to catch your breath you notice everyone staring at you in wide-eyed horror. You understand their concern, so you try to comfort them.

“Company policy’s a bitch. You know how it is.”
………….

After experiencing that little séance with whatever evil force runs your workplace, Tuon’s parents decided to call it a night and head home. Not a moment too soon really, you’ve got work tomorrow and if you’re going to be dealing with a fucking horror story to get some time off you’d like one last night of bed rest before you’re mentally scarred. You roll into the bedroom and lock the wheels in place. You undress, shirt first and pants second. Changing is still challenging, but you aren’t a bitch ass punk so you do what you can. Successfully sans clothes except for your underwear, you unlock the wheels and start rolling towards your bed. You lock the wheels again when you reach the side of the bed, and slowly get on your feet. You’re not really in too much pain, but you stumble onto the bed without any grace. Landing face first, you wiggle your way under the covers, hoping that Tuon comes quickly and turns off the light.

Almost as if you called her, in comes Tuon. Something seems off right now; her eyes are downcast and she’s almost shuffling her feet. You struggle a bit and finally manage to sit up. Tuon’s undressing before you. Her white sleeveless blouse comes off first, her wings folding in and bending in practiced choreography to fit through the wing slits. Then off comes her mauve knee length skirt. She struggles a bit to get her clawed feet out of the thin dress without damaging it. She walks to the closet and pulls out her pajamas, a button up shirt that you used to wear until Tuon discovered how soft and comfortable it was. She then claimed it as her bedwear, although every time it goes through the wash she asks you to wear it for a day so it will have your scent. Dressed in the shirt and her panties, she turns off the lights, thank Illias, and trudges to bed.

You relax a bit as you feel her get on the bed. You figure that in an hour or two she’ll soon fall asleep and unconsciously hog the covers. Instead, to your surprise, she reaches out to you, timidly, as if she were a child taking hold of her mother’s skirt. Worried, you ask her what’s the matter.

“I.. just want to be a good wife for you. It’s just… hard to let my pride go.” She stammers quietly. She must still be concerned with what her mother said. Tuon takes whatever Momma Dragon says like absolute law. You feel her claw touch you, starting from your stomach and traveling to your hip. You’ve mostly healed and you barely feel any pain, but her claw just managed to touch the one spot that was still sore. You try to suppress the incoming pain, but you still wince at the weight of her hand. The claw draws back quickly; she noticed. She turns away from you and curls up a bit. Damn it, you’ve made her feel worse. How are you going to- Suddenly, she straightens out and sits up. “Treasure, I’ve been thinking this over for a while. I need to tell you something important.”

You sit up as well. She sounds very determined all of a sudden. You wonder what’s going through her mind; you can read her on most occasions, but this look on her face, this steely faced woman defies your attempts to predict her next words. “Yes, Tuon?”

“I’ve… treated you fairly poorly these last few months.” You wouldn’t say poorly, every now and then it’s nice to get dominated by the woman you love, although your hips don’t lie and you’re starting to feel she’s right. So, what now? “I’ve been acting as if you were my property rather than my husband.”

“Well, I kinda am both. I mean, what with the barcode and all.”

Your wife flinches at your words. Shit, you put your foot in your mouth and it doesn’t taste good. What does Bob always say when he screws up like this, ‘at least I’ll have clean feet’? Fuck Bob right now though, you need to focus on Tuon. She gathers herself and continues.

“Yes. That’s unfair to you, to be marked like that without your will.” Well, you would prefer to have a tattoo of her dry humping a Saiga-12 naked and blowing a kiss with the words ‘Dragon’s Breath’ underneath, but you must admit a barcode is at least pretty professional and utilitarian looking. Made dressing up like a hitman a helluva lot cooler during that office NERF war that Isis started that one time.

“So I decided, I own you. All of you…” Well, that came from out of nowhere. What was all that about being unf- “and you own me. All of me. “

Oh. You weren’t expecting this to get serious.

“Tuon… I don’t really know what to say.”

“Toy…” When she calls you ‘Toy’, she normally is upset and her tone lets you know it. This is different though, this is... deference? “…I’ve been neglecting your needs as my husband. So, to make it up to you…”

“Tuon, you don’t need to-“ Tuon stands up on the bed and faces you.

“I do. I’ve dominated you to the point of injury, twice, so for as long as you’ve been injured, a total of a month and a half counting both times I believe, I’ll submit to you. That’s what mother always told me. If you dominate your husband one time, you must let him dominate you another. I haven’t been keeping my end of the marriage. That changes tonight.” Ah, this is the look that Tuon always has. Eyes like Dresden Green diamonds, full lips in an imperceptible smile, her chest puffed up like a prized rooster, her hands on her hips, her head held high like a newly crowned queen, this is Tuon, the woman you love.

You can barely hold your laughter in; you shake your head while failing to suppress it. Only Tuon could look so proud, so majestic, so bloody regal while making a declaration of submission. Tuon notices you of course and frowns at you. “Toy, I’m being serious.” You break out laughing; that’s the problem Tuon, of course you’re serious. She pouts in a huff while you struggle to calm yourself. From your peripheral vision, you notice the clock reads 11:15.

“You’re being unfair, baby.”

Tuon looks shocked. You have to explain; she did just bare out her soul right now so of course she might not get the joke. “You said for the next month and a half starting tonight, right? Did you wait until it’s almost tomorrow to cheat me out of one day?” You flash her a roguish grin. She catches on and smiles that same grin back at you.

“No, that starts tomorrow. Consider tonight a gift.” She pulls the covers off you and walks on the bed to stand over you. She gets down on her knees, her hips above yours, her claws moving to hold yours. She looks embarrassed, but she still caresses your hands, entwining your fingers with hers. You tighten your grasp on hers and she arches her back as she reciprocates. She slowly lowers herself onto your crotch, grinding ever so slightly against you. “Any requests, Treasure?”

You pretend to think as you feel yourself slowly melting into your wife from the heat of your bodies touching. “Maybe that third position you were talking about at dinner? Gently this time?” Tuon gives you an embarrassed grin and wordlessly obliges. As you slowly feel yourself entering her, you’re so happy can almost feel your soul lifting out of your body. Nothing can ruin these next few weeks.

Nothing.
………………..

“Hey buddy, you’re off the steel stallion today? Good for you.”

It’s going to take a lot more than Bob to prove last night’s promise wrong, but damn it if he isn’t trying. Normally, you’d tell Bob off for having the gall to exist, but today’s going to be a good day. That handholding session was just the ticket you needed to not act like a total asshat for a while.

“Morning Bob. How’s Lino doing? Well I hope.” Yup, those sweet claws of hers in your hands, the feeling of those scales against your palms, the talons as they so gently… why is Bob staring at you like he saw a non-Ghost girl ghost? “What’s up Bob? You feeling alright man?”

Bob just shakes his head as his terrified eyes never leave yours. He back steps away from you for a few strides before breaking out into a run towards Utah’s cubicle. Weird. You spin in your chair a turn and go back to your computer. Tons of work to be done before you can ask for a day or two off. As you’re quickly typing the shipping information of a client’s order onto a spreadsheet for later storage, you hear three pairs of feet coming from behind you. You turn to see who it is and you aren’t surprised when you see Bob, Utah, and… okay you are surprised when you see Isis.

Isis seems to be wearing a black priest’s cassock, clerical collar included on the outfit. Odd, but somehow odd is normal for Isis. In her furry paws she’s holding a fairly large golden ankh out towards you. Might as well greet her; she is your supervisor.

“Morning Miss Isis. Nice weather we’re having, no?”

Her eyes widen and she turns to Utah. “Utah, call Sam quickly. It’s worse than I thought.” Utah obliges, but for what purpose you don’t know. You would try to say hello to Utah, he is your coworker, but it’d be rude to interrupt him from his call. You’ll talk to him later. Isis turns back to you and begins chanting something. Sounds Latin. Funny, you expected Egyptian from an Anubis, but who are you to complain?  Seeing that nothing is happening with these three, you decide to go back to work. After all, that is what you’re paid the big bucks to do, right? You go on typing out the order, whistling a tune to the increasingly frantic Latin that Isis is reciting. You hear panicked steps coming up from behind you. Oh, it’s Sam. Why’s he wearing his old Paladin gear? Is it casual Friday already? Why is he wielding his sword; doesn’t he know it’s against company policy? You start reminding him that it’s rude to his monster girl coworkers to bring a Paladin’s sword to work when suddenly you’re on the floor losing conciou…

You wake up to the tune of a dirty bucket of water to the face and a headache to rival anything Bob has ever done and you’ve suddenly decided that enough’s enough. Isis is still on her knees chanting Latin, but no. You’re tired of this shit already. You decide to interrupt her.

“…et magna mollis potum, et a pullum sandwico, et capsicum cuneis…”

“The fuck is wrong with you all?”

Isis breaks off from her strange prayer and throws her hands up in the air. “PRAISES BE UNTO THE CHIEF GOD HE’S FREE.” You guess some monster girls do believe in the chief god. Odd.

Sam suddenly pulls you up onto your feet and grabs your shoulders to face you directly, his steely eyes glaring into your soul. If this doesn’t end in a kiss, you’ll be glad but slightly disappointed in his lack of romance. Can’t expect all that much from someone married to something that could have grown from the mold in his refrigerator though. Never did understand slime lovers, but whatever. After a tense, and almost erotic, staring match he releases you and sighs in relief. Bastard’s probably not going to call yo… shit, are you gay? You panic a moment and think back to last night’s romping with your deliciously submis- nope, hi there penis. Could you go back down a bit? Good boy.

“He’s clean.” Damn straight you are; you took a shower this morning and everything. “No sign of IT lurking where I can see it.”

Utah grabs you by the shoulders; he’s got that delusional centaur wife, Rika, so he probably knows how to role-play a bit, the tease. Maybe you can convince him to give you a little of the Dark Ice Ma- fucking hell, is that the power of a Paladin’s sword? To bring out someone’s gay tendencies? No wonder those assholes are afraid of monster girls and are always ‘sparring’ with each other. ‘Bring a battle buddy’ your ass, more like bring a butt buddy. Utah’s getting a little intense, so you decide to end this now. You wait for him to speak, and sure enough he does.

“Listen, did you say IT’s na-“

“Shut up Utah. I swear to Illias if you don’t let me go I’ll take your wife to the damn glue factory.”

Utah slackens his grip and looks a little hurt, but today you don’t care. Yes, it was uncalled for, but if these fuckers want to ruin your good day, they can deal with the backlash. Bob slaps you on the back, hard.

“Good to know you’re not being possessed by IT anymore.” Ah, it all makes sense now. It technically isn’t company policy, since company policy is a manifestation of IT, but if someone acts happy during work this is standard operating procedure. Beat the shit out of them until they aren’t. Thanks everyone, you did your jobs as best as you could for the incompetent fuckups you are.

“No, asshole. I just got an entire NIGHTS WORTH OF HANDHOLDING YESTERDAY.” You hear multiple shocked, and a couple jealous, gasps but you don’t care how lewd you sound; they will know their sins. “So please fucking forgive me for being happy for a change.”

“You’re forgiven my son.” Isis gets up off her knees and quickly throws the cassock off of her. Looks like she was wearing her business suit underneath it. One of her mummies stumbles over to pick up the cassock and she takes it back to Isis’ office. Exorcism gear on demand, huh? We don’t have a fire extinguisher on this floor, but we’re ready to deal with a goddamn elder god’s mental rapings? What kind of chicken-shit outfit is this?

Isis then somehow manages to snap her fingers, you don’t really understand how an Anubis’ paws work, and another mummy pops out of the office with a suitcase in tow. She turns to you. “I told everyone else, but since you were busy being lewd…” She blushes a bit, an impressive feat for a girl with that kind of olive tan. “I’m leaving for an out of town meeting for the next day or two. I need you all here to make sure things run smoothly.” She turns on her heels and walks out with the mummy following her.

Everyone else heads back to their cubicles and leaves you alone, which is perfect. Isis is probably the only person in this department that even cares if anyone is at work. This means that tomorrow is going to be a date day for you and Tuon, no need to run the gambit on dealing with a horror movie come to life by asking for leave. You get back onto your chair and spin around a few times. Now you just need to plan it out. You open your email inbox on a whim and browse through the subject lines while trying to brainstorm an idea. Maybe dinner and a mo… no too cliché. Catch a show at a thea… no, musicals are really the last thing you want to hear right now. You scroll down the list of emails. What romantic getaway can you go on with Tuon that only takes a day and isn’t completely cli-

You stop. The answer is right underneath your mouse cursor. You click on the email. You read it aloud to yourself in a hushed undertone.

“Company picnic at… Sharon Park. Although the park has numerous attractions meant for couples to enjoy, including a row boat course on the lake, all employees are expected to abstain from said attractions in order to focus on building up synergistic cooperation among coworkers.” That’s the picnic Isis arranged that nobody went to last Sunday. The email is marked as being received today, so it’s late but it’s also perfect. A summer’s date in the park, eating a light lunch on a red and white plaid blanket together, sharing a bottle of wine, a boat ride, and then after a candle lit dinner under a starry night some gentle love-making. Perfect. You suddenly hear murmuring throughout the floor, words you can’t full hear and words you don’t understand. You freeze for a minute, and then relax when you can pick out a few familiar voices. Your fellow drones are muttering something, but that’s not important. You look up the park online and jot down a few numbers. You pick up your phone, your cellphone and not the landline since you’re fairly certain that IT listens when you speak on the landline and probably records your calls for quality assurance, and you start making reservations.

This is going to be an amazing date. You do wish everyone else would shut the hell up though.
………….

A quick drive through the city and in less than 30 minutes you and your wife are walking through a beautiful manicured landscape, the large oak trees spreading their branches like large birds stretching their wings towards the skies. Your wife protested earlier today against such a short-notice plan, but true to her promise she acquiesced when you insisted. She even called in to her work to inform them that she’ll be off for the next two days; apparently your wife has enough pull in her workplace to just take days off whenever. Despite the pangs of jealousy you felt at how easily she got the time off, you managed to take her by the hand, that same hand you plan on holding later on tonight, and you dragged her to the bedroom. There, you directed her attention to a white department store box. From there, it was quite simple; she opened it and pulled out the white ruffled lace sundress you bought for her to wear for today’s date. A few minutes of cajoling and pleading with your wife was all it took for her to give in and wear it. A nice looking number, showing off a healthy but still appropriate amount of thigh, the dress only enhanced Tuon’s natural beauty. It probably wasn’t so healthy for her to blush so vibrantly though.

It was still somewhat too early for lunch, probably 11:25 last you checked, but as you stroll along the walkways of the park you and Tuon happen upon a hill that is simply too perfect to pass up. As Tuon holds the wicker picnic basket that you brought along, you work on spreading the blanket out on the grass. The blanket flutters a bit in the wind before settling down onto the soft lush grass. You sprawl out on the blanket and Tuon places the basket on a secure part of the blanket before sitting gingerly down next to you, holding the hem of her dress to protect her modesty. Almost perfect.

You wiggle a bit to adjust your position before laying your head down on Tuon’s lap, a move that elicited a tiny gasp from her. Soon though she gingerly ran her talons through your hair, humming so softly you could have sworn it was just the wind. As you close your eyes, you feel so at peace with the world that noth-

“Hey buddy, didn’t expect to see you here.”

No. No. No. No. Nononononononononono. Not now. Not today. You crack open an eye, offering to the Demon Lord your eternal soul for it to be anyone else. Funny, she doesn’t even take a bite. There’s a familiar face you know too well, a bright yet vacant smile on a man with a yarmulke. You close your eyes as you feel Tuon stiffen at the entrance of this intruder on your happy time together. “Hey Bob. Isis set you up to this?” You open your eyes again and slowly inch your hand towards the back of your waist; how this plays out is all up to you Bob. Bob waves his hands in front of him as if to ward off some unknown evil in your words.

“Nope. When she said she was going to be out on a business trip all I heard from her lips was that today’s office ditch day. Been a long time since I had some time with Lino to hang around. I was wondering what we two lovebirds could do when I saw that company picnic email. Seemed like a good getaway. In fact, here’s Lino right now.” He waves to someone behind you. You get up from Tuon’s lap and look behind you; sure enough that’s the face you recognize from the picture Bob keeps on his desk. You aren’t pleased that you and Bob somehow share the same thought process when it comes to romantic getaways. It makes you feel dirty in ways IT can’t even conceive of.

As you politely introduce yourself to Lino, the poor girl refuses to meet your wife in the eyes, you see another familiar figure in the distance. A mousy brown haired man, lanky and tall, accompanied by what looks like a short raven-haired cross between an Ushi-Oni and a Centaur. Seriously, did everyone read that email and make the same plans? As Tuon tries to make eye contact with Lino, and as Lino tries to avoid said eye contact, you point out the figure to Bob. Bob immediately recognizes the damn sandwich raiding horse fucker and waves Utah over.

“Whoa, what is everyone doing here? I thought Rika and I were th-“

“Shut up Utah. Introduce us?” Utah frowns a bit, but complies with your request.

“This is Rika, my wife.” He pulls his eye-patched equestrian spouse over to Bob and you. She brings up her right hand to her open eye, her fingers in a horizontal v-shape.

“Well met, denizens of the Dark Ice Master’s realm. I am the companion of your fellow Logi of Styx, the Persecuting Eye of Shi-“

A sudden light chop on Rika’s head ends that introduction. Utah starts pulling her cheeks, exasperatedly telling his wife to introduce herself normally and her constant pleas that her introduction was normal. You ignore them, Rika does seem like a nice girl, but you’d rather not get into that couple’s spat. Seems like a routine thing with them. You turn your attention to more important matters, like why literally EVERYONE from your company was showing up at this exact hill. Seriously, there’s Buri and her husband down there, Sam and his Slime girl are walking at the shore of the lake though his wife is trying to keep her distance from the waterline, and there’s even that Dark Elf from Accounting acting all lovey-dovey clinging to her husband’s arm in a rath… oh she noticed you. You awkwardly wave, and she freezes a bit before pulling out a whip and starts whipping her husband. You shake your head at the scene; some people just can’t be honest to themselves. Seriously, everyone from the company is here. Why on Illias’ good ear-

“ATTENTION EVERYONE!” Oh dear Illias, no. You know that voice on the megaphone. So does everyone else. Everyone turns towards the sound of the voice and sure enough there is a black haired Anubis in a business suit, accompanied by 3 mummies. How and why is sh- “SINCE NO ONE CAME TO LAST SUNDAY’S COMPANY PICNIC, I ARRANGED FOR YOU ALL TO ATTEND THIS SPECIAL SECRET ONE. TO THE SPOUSES OF THE EMPLOYEES, WELCOME TO-“ She suddenly stops, her body stiffens and her eyes open in wide-eyed horror that looks like she can barely understand. Her mouth moves, though now in a voice not her own. IT is speaking now.

“SORRY EVERYONE, THIS WASN’T PLANNED OFFICIALLY, SO I HAD NO KNOWLEDGE OF THIS. I THOUGHT I HAD THE DAY OFF TOO. CARRY ON. SORRY ONCE AGAIN.” Wow, Isis was able to fool IT? Isis slackens in the characteristic manner after IT leaves. You can tell right now by sight who the company employees are; their spouses, yours included, are currently holding their hands to their ears trying to comprehend the nature of the eldritch malevolent entity. You reach into your picnic basket and fish out the wine bottle. A quick pop with the corkscrew you brought and you start filling up a wine glass for Tuon.

That’s the good part about working for an evil formless mental horror; increased resistance to Sanity damage.
……………..

An hour later you and Tuon are in a row boat out on the lake. The rental fee was fairly steep, but it was well worth it in your opinion. Anything to get away from the crowd of people interrogating Isis. You were the first one to grill her though, so you already got the whole story. The short of it? Isis is single, a given really considering her abnormal fondness for Lego construction and costume play. Everyone else in the company is married though; apparently there used to be a few other fellow monster girls who were unhitched, but the last one found a husband last Sunday. After drinking her tears away with her mummy servants, she came to the conclusion that she was married to her work. So, what better way to go on a date with her husband than to get every single employee to the park? After telling everyone that she was going on a business trip, it seems like she had sent that email reminder to plant the idea of going to the park on the day of her ‘trip’. Seems like everyone came to the park, from the Ant girl janitor to the CEO himself. It was heartbreaking really. You really need to introduce Isis to some poor unfortunate soul.

In any case, you decided the best way to get away from the crowd was to go on a nice boat. A few minutes of rowing and here you are, all alone with the woman of your dreams, her white dress glimmering in the summer sun. You pull in the oars and motion towards your lap. Tuon stands up, only to sit down quickly as the boat rocks from the movement. You chuckle a bit and Tuon gets irritated, standing up slowly before walking towards you unsteadily. You stand up quickly, a movement that ever so slightly rocks craft. Tuon stumbles forward into your waiting arms, but you trip backwards and land on the floor of the rowboat. A wave of dizziness washes over you, but you slowly come to, the weight of your wife pleasantly pressed against you, her bosom heaving from the shock of the fall. You put your arm around her waist, just under her wings, and pull her closer to you. Tuon makes a show of being mad, but the slow motion of her tail waving to and fro betray her true feelings. Her claws go to your cheeks, a soft caress. You feel your heat mingling with hers as you trace your hands down her back, past her tail, and down to her thighs before spreading her legs apart, moving her to grind slowly but firmly against your rising member. You move your hand from its soft resting place to up under her dress and-

“Whoa buddy, guess if the boat is a-rocking don’t come a-knocking.”

The soft moans of pleasure from your wife turns into an exasperated grunt of discontent, an emotion closely aligned to your current state of mind. The hand that was slowly pulling up your wife’s dress sharply comes down to cover her again. The legs that were once spread to grind her against you are instead used to return your wife to her seat. You slowly get up off the floor of the boat and back onto the rower’s seat to greet the inconsiderate jerk-off who just ruined the moment. You stare at Bob, trying to bore a hole in his head with nothing but your willpower and the anger of your displeasure. Looks like Bob had the same idea as you, strike two in your book, and decided to row himself and Lino for a couple’s retreat. Pity he didn’t understand the concept of ‘personal space’ very well. Lino sure does, as is evident by what seems like her ignored pleadings to ‘let’s leave them alone’. You give Lino a small, but warm, smile. A sweetheart really. Too good for Bob.

“Fuck off Bob. Can’t you see we’re busy here?”

“Please honey, let’s not bother them. Why don’t we go see what the shore is like over there?” Lino makes a passionate plea. Please, Lino, it’s useless. Bob smiles his beaming smile.

“Come on buddy, how about a friendly race? A chance to show off to your wife, what’s to lose?”

You consider it for a fraction of a second. You don’t need to show off to Tuon, as is evident by the raised eyebrow she’s giving Bob right now. Lino doesn’t seem too interested in the race either. This, though, might be your chance to get rid of Bob for the rest of the evening.

“Tell you what Bob. We’ll race. First one to the shore over there…” You point to a distance about half a mile away. “… first one there wins. Loser goes straight home. Winner gets the right to go to that Oni steakhouse Isis was talking about AND gets three minutes of handholding from his wife. Fair?”

Bob whistles and smiles before offering his hand to you. Good, he took the bait. You clasp his hand and shake on it. Anyway you choose, Bob, you cannot win. Poor Lino has her blushing face hidden poorly in her hands and even Tuon, despite that imperious facade she put on, is flushed ever so slightly. Bob settles into his rowboat and grasps his oars firmly. He turns to you, for once a serious look on his face. “When I say ‘go’, we start. Lino, you’re going to want to sit down for this.”

“Yeah, whatever Bob.” You mumble to yourself. You don’t plan on winning, but if you do that’s icing on the cake. You turn your back as Bob starts to psyche himself up for the pointless race. Where are those damn oa-

“GO!”

A sudden blow to the head and you’re in the water. Shit you’re starting to black ou…
……………..

When you awaken, it’s not in any place you’ve seen before. You stare into a dull nuclear red sky, a thin gray cloud cover just barely masking the crimson. You sit up and rub the back of your head with your hand. Oddly enough, it doesn’t hurt. You rub it harder to make sure and, sure enough, it doesn’t. Possible injuries taken care of, you focus on your surroundings, a lifeless featureless brown landscape, flat as far as the eye can see. The only thing close to a feature is this winding river in front of you, as blood red as the sky. You stand up and walk towards the shore. The water seems odd, as if dead and yet holding some evil force. You move to examine the water closer, bringing your hand to the surfa-

“Aye wuddn’t touch that ‘f I were you, ‘f you catch m’ ADRIFT.” You turn your head so quickly to the sound of that drawling voice you’re surprised you didn’t get whiplash. Your eyes land on a petite figure draped in a coarse brown cloak, pale yellow eyes like tinted glass, soft white hair in a long braid, her feet girded in thigh-length gladiator sandals. Oh, and she has blue skin. You figure she isn’t a Blue Oni, no horn, but you’re cautious. No idea who she is. Seeing this on your face, the girl introduces herself.

“Name’s Charon.” At first it sounds like she said ‘Sharon’, but somehow you know what she is. That boat she’s on is a good hint. “Ya might know me as de ferrywom’n o’ legend. Hope de name STYX wit you.” She giggles a bit to herself. You feel a headache coming on. You’re glad you can still feel something in thi- wait, Charon? The fucking Ferryman of the River Styx is a hillbilly? Wait, YOU’RE DEAD?

“NO. I CAN’T BE DEAD. TUON… I NEED TUON.” You’re panicking. You can’t leave Tuon behind. No, you have to get back. You turn to Charon.

“I NEED TO GO BA-“

“Relax boy. You ain’t dead. Jest… half way dere? Yer gonna make it, so try to… calm DROWN.”

That fucking southern drawl is getting as old as her jokes right now. You’re in no mood for this, but if the Ferrywoman of the Dead just said you’re going to make it back, you can afford to calm down. You hope. You sit down at the bank of the River.

“Das a good boy. Jest dun’t touch dat water o’er ‘ere. Sucks da soul right out ya’. It’s an OAR-ible esperience.”

You wince at the pun. “How did I… end up here?”

Charon gives you a throaty chuckle. “Dat dumbass up dere, Bob? He jest got riled up and started rowin like I was ‘hind ‘im or sumthin. Cleaned yer clock pretty good with that oar, den you fell ‘n da drink. ‘erisly though, de BOAT of you are dumbasses racin like dat.”

The puns are getting physically painful now. You bring your hand to your head and use the other to tell Charon to wait a moment. You try to process what she told you. So Bob hit you in the head with his oar, which knocked you out and over? Okay, so Tuon probably dove it, picked you out of the lake, and is probably trying to resuscitate you right now. If Charon can be trusted, you’ll make it. Now, just two more questions.

“Okay, tell me this first. How long before I’m out of here?”

“Weeeell, time ‘ere runs bit diff’rent dan up dere. So, ‘bout 10 hours down ‘ere be equal to a minute up ‘n de land o’ livin. Only on da river though. On shore, it runs ‘bout equal. Wouldn’t wanna miss mah shows. Dun’ worry though, yu’ll learn to LAKE it down ‘ere.”

“Okay, now tell me: Since when is the fucking Ferrywoman of Greek Legend a redneck punster?”

Charon turns her head up, hand on her chin, and ponders a moment. She then looks at you and responds. “Ya know how I told ya I’m Charon?” You nod, this was elementary. “Weeeell, dere are udder Charons on dis river. Charon ain’t so much a name as it is a… job ‘escription?” Okay, easy to follow so far. “I used ta be alive, dun got much a mem’ry fer it though. Last thin’ I ‘member, ‘ere I was right ‘n front o’ Hades ‘imself. ‘fore I could say nuthin’ he just tol’ me ne’er to talk ‘n front o’ ‘im and put me on ferry duty. ‘pparently he dun’t like puns none too much and only thin’ I gots in common wit de udder Charons is we all like puns. Ne’er spoke to ‘em though.” She sniffles a bit. You can’t help but feel a bit sorry for her, damn drawl aside though. “Wen I went an’ ask dem goddesses o’ fate, dey jest said sumthin’ bout how Charons are in verbal quaran’tin…” She takes a moment to breathe in and collect her thoughts. “Dey said, ‘Lord Hades placed a magic seal on each Charon preventing communication. If two Charons were to speak to each other, their puns would create a pun resonance cascade and the Underworld would break down on a quantum level.’” She spoke in a higher pitched voice, mocking the goddesses, but that’s not the part that irritates you. This bitch can speak properly. You feel almost insulted by her damned southern accent.

“Anywho, dat’s ‘nough ‘bout me. I dun’t wanna ROW too big ‘eaded ya ‘ear? Hows ‘bout ya give me yer phone number? I dun’t get a live one ‘ere much often, so I could use a textin’ buddy.” She pulls a smart phone out of, wait what?

“The hell, you have a smart phone?”

“Yup, I might be a ferrywom’n fer da dead but I ain’t dat dead. Reception down ‘ere is terrible though.” She shakes her head. “Is all Hade’s damn fault. Tried to get one dem package deals fer da TV, internet, and phone lines. Sure he saves a bundle, but us Charons suffer cause dem satellites ain’t none too reliable. Always be droppin da signal.”

You are almost shaking with fury. You’ve been half-dead for this entire time and she DOESN’T TELL YOU THAT SHE HAS A WAY TO CONTACT THE OUTSIDE WORLD? “Give me the phone right fucking now.”

She laughs at you. “Look ‘ere, ya wanna make a call? Jest give me yer number an’ promise to text me back. Get’s lonely enough down ‘ere.” You sigh and make that promise, giving her your number. She adds you as a contact and then asks the million dollar question as she hands you her phone. “Who ya gonna call? Yer wife? Bob? Da Ghostbusters?”

You type in a number you never thought you’d ever use. As it rings, you look up to Charon and give her a shit eating grin. “No. I’m calling my ride out of here.”
……………

You wait for a few minutes as Charon idly makes death related puns. They go over your head as you wait for your fluffy taxi ride out of here. Sure enough, she pops into existence right in front of you.

“I’m not your get-out-of-hell free card you know.” This is probably the first time you’re glad to see this bushy tailed Anubis. “I was busy having a nice date with my hus-“

“Get me out of here Isis and I swear I’ll find you a nice man with a Lego fetish like yours.” Her eyes beam and her tail wags like crazy. Better add a caveat though. “I’ll find him, bagging him is your job.”

“Good enough. Let me do my death goddess bit first before we leave.” She walks over to Charon who has been strangely silent this entire exchange.

“I’m taking my servant home, ferrywoman. Anything you want to say?” Isis gives Charon a challenging stare. The two goddesses who deal with the dead must have an instinctual dislike of each other. You guess it has to do with job security.

“Nuthin at all. I’m jest so DOG gone tired I wanna take a snooze. Workin’ these long hours are a BITCH. I should pro’bly try an’ find ANUBIS-ness to get into.” Charon drawls her words sounding for all the world like a tired soul, but her eyes meet Isis’ with surprising sharpness. Isis growls at the puns and turns around. Walking briskly, she grabs you and pulls you away from the waving ferrywoman.

“Ya better call me. I’ll send for ya if ya don’t.” She shouts at you before Isis weaves her magic and in a flash of whi-
……………

You wake up with a heavy force on your chest. Your waterlogged eyes struggle to blink open. You’ve got a massive headache and you can’t breathe. You’re alive though. You gasp like a fish, eager for fresh air, and the heavy force pushes harder against you. It feels familiar, good. Your ears start to function again as you hear the sobbing of…

“…Tu…on.” Each breath a struggle, you still call out for her. “Tuon…” You hear the sobbing intensify and the weight on your chest increases as she hugs you even tighter. You cough up a little water, but you manage to hug her in return. It takes some time, but you manage to come to life fully. You sit up, resting against the rowboat’s chair. “How long … out?”

“About 10 minutes buddy.” You don’t even turn your head. “Man, I am so sorry for what I did. I know I can’t make it up for you…” Tuon growls and Bob continues “or to Tuon, but anything I can do, let me know.” You focus on breathing for now; Bob sounds sincere, oddly enough extremely sincere. You realize Bob is many things, but malicious he isn’t. Pity for him, you are.

“Bob…one request.”

“Name it buddy.”

“Not you… for Lino.”

Lino, shy as ever, moves the front half of her body to get on your rowboat. She’s shaking, probably scared that you’ll ask something awful of her. You get your breathing into control; you still have a tiny bit of water in your lungs, so you should probably finish this quick and get some treatment. You motion for Tuon to join the huddle. When she does, you focus your gaze on Tuon.

“Third position. Tell Lino.” You make a weak gesture with your hands. Tuon looks puzzled for a moment, but suddenly gives you an evil grin. You look at Lino, her eyes less scared and more puzzled. “Lino. Adapt for… Oomukade. Do it hard… aim for hip.” You start choking and you motion for Bob to start rowing the boats back, a task made infinitely easier by Lino holding the two boats together with her long centipede-like body. Lino first looks uncomfortable as Tuon begins explaining the beauty of the third position, but slowly her scared frown transforms into a mischievous smirk. Lovely.
……………

Eight days later and you stroll past those glass double doors and walk to the elevator, greeting a livid Janice as you pass through. A great benefit of being married to a Dragon, no one argues with her about her husband getting a week of sick leave, not even a certain Kraken Keeper of Time. Most of that week she spent nursing your back to health, even wearing that sexy nurse outfit as she took care of your ‘morning injection’. You crack your back as you wait for the elevator; the downside to her care was that she was so afraid of losing you she put a futon in the treasure room and made you sleep there under her guard. You protested at first since that went against her “vow of submission”, but she just held you tightly and said it was postponed until she was satisfied with your health. You were right as rain after a good night’s rest, but you gave in after seeing your wife’s needy watery gaze. It was a husband’s job to care for his wife’s needs, physical and emotional.

You feel a vibration in your pant pocket and sigh. A quick look and your guess was confirmed. Charon took your promise seriously and every day sent you a pun filled text about how her unlife was going. You did text back as best you could. The first few times, Tuon got mad about you texting another woman, but after reading what Charon sent you, she just gave you back the phone and said she had no issue if you texted Charon as long as you made a promise to never read her one of those texts again.

As you wait for the elevator, damn thing was probably on the top floor, you notice a certain man struggling to get up the handicap ramp in front of the building. You smile and ask Charon for a specific set of puns. Within seconds, you have a cellphone full of delicious delicious puns for just this occasion. Up comes the wheel chaired man. You smile as you greet him.

“Morning Bob.”

Bob for once doesn’t have that gormless smile on his face. He just looks angry and in pain. He takes a deep breath.

“Look buddy, I get that you were angry, but what your wife told Lino was completely out of line. These damn painkillers don’t do shit and now Lino’s counting the days until I heal so she can do it again. The fuck man?” His pain feeds you, sustains you.

“That thing Tuon taught her? Consider it CHAIRity. She meant WHEEL by it. Your hip breaking experience just makes DIS-ABLE to be used later on it the future. Besides, I know how much you like to FRACT-URE, now she just learned to ‘frack’ you harder.” Bob looks like he just bit a rotten lemon. Ah, now you see why Charon’s addicted to word-play, the look on his face is almost better than handholding. The elevator doors open and you step inside. Ah, one last thing. You hold the door open for Bob and give him the last one you got.

“Come on buddy, we got work so let’s ROLL.”