His Father's Genes Ch. 01

"You may have noticed, son, that you are different from other people," said the stranger as the two of them looked out on the city from the mountain lookout.

"Don't call me son," retorted Brent. "You haven't earned the right. You left me when I was a baby, and now you think you can just walk into my life? I'm only here because mother told me to be."

"Ah," smiled the stranger. "Alicia. She was such a delightful girl." He kept leaning on the rail and gazing off into the distance, not looking at Brent directly. His temples were gray, but he had a rugged, ageless face.

"Woman," Brent corrected. "And she deserved far better than you." Brent wished for a moment he could bring himself to push the man over the rail. It would be so easy. But he knew he never would.

The stranger smiled. "That might have been why I left. As I was saying. You are different. Smarter. You've noticed, I'm sure."

"I'm not smarter," Brent said. "I'm useless around computers."

"Ah, yes, technology. Not one of our strong suits. But in math, in history, in English? I assume you excel, and that these things come easily to you."

Brent nodded. "Yeah. Doesn't make me better. I suppose you're going to tell me that's all because of your genes. Well, you can stuff it."

"It is, though. And now you are of an age when girls are going to be interested in you. You're probably somewhat awkward around people, but somehow the girls are looking your way anyway, hinting that you might ask them out. Especially perhaps the girls with a reputation for being, um, easy?"

How did he know that? Everything was exactly as he described. "Yeah. What of it?"

"Have you bedded one yet?"

"None of your fucking business." He hadn't even taken one out. As his father had said, he was awkward. Twenty years old, and still a virgin, but last semester at school, he'd definitely been more popular. With the girls, anyway.

"Alicia thought not. You really should. Several, in fact. Ask them, and if they say no, move on to the next. Make sure they are on birth control, at least until you understand yourself better."

"And like, use a condom, because STIs are a thing? Maybe you should have taken birth control into your own hands with my mother."

"Then we wouldn't be having this conversation, now would we? Have you ever been sick, Brent?"

Brent remembered all perfect attendance awards in school. He shook his head. "No. I don't know why. But never."

"You are different. Women can sense it, and you attract them. They want your genes, evolutionarily, but they will settle for the pleasure you can give them, and they can give you. Even a blowjob will be an ecstatic experience for them, so I suggest you stick to that, at first, especially if you're unsure about whether they are on the pill. Your mother was persuasive, and thus we are here together today, but most girls will settle for getting to blow you regularly. Not too regularly; play the field. You don't want to fall in love. Settle for their adoration."

"You are a fucking asshole, you know that?"

He nodded. "I'm sure it seems that way. How old do you think I am, Brent?"

Brent looked at him, annoyed at the change of subject. He decided not to give it much thought. "Forty-three."

"Not even close."

"Okay, how old are you?"

"Eight-hundred or so years. I've stopped counting, but I was still young when the Teutonic Knights came into Prussia and forcibly converted the pagan worshippers of the area. Dark times. I almost died. Again, yes, I know you wish I did, and I will point out the probable consequences of that."

"Actually, I was just thinking that you're full of shit."

"Imagine for a moment I'm not. Imagine that women adore you, but that you will outlive every woman you ever bed; that you will watch them grow old as you stay the same. Wouldn't my advice apply? No. Don't love them and leave them, if you like, but realize that like pets, you will bury and replace them. You don't have a choice about that. Neither can you change the fact that you will always be smarter than them, and with age, wiser as well. Not wiser yet, I would guess." He smiled, and irritatingly, it was a paternal, indulgent smile. "But you will get there."

"You're saying you're some kind of vampire, and I am, too?"

His father laughed. "A vampire? No, Brent, hardly. You won't live forever, just thousands of years. And you're not undead. Hmm. I was easier to convince, but people believed the world was a more fantastic place, back in those days."

"Eight hundred years ago," Brent said sarcastically.

"Yes. Look out on the water. Do you see that boat?"

Brent leaned forward. The sound was full of boats. "Which one?" he asked.

"The yacht. White sail, red stripes."

"Ah. Yes. What of it?" It was a couple of miles away.

"See the woman, lying on the deck?"

He did. The woman sunning herself was blonde and wore a green bikini.

"The blonde? Yes."

"She's pretty hot, isn't she?"

She was. The swimsuit only half-covered her large, full breasts. "I will not ogle women with you," Brent said.

"Of course not. Let us elevate our minds, then. Look at her eyes, not her body, like the man your mother raised you to be."

He nodded, even though he sensed sarcasm.

"What color are they?" asked his father.

He focused. "Blue."

"Do you think any human could see that from this distance? She's two miles away, and you can see the color of her eyes?"

"Doesn't make me a vampire," Brent said. "Or whatever."

"Not a vampire, a dragon. Look closer," his father said. "Can you see the mole on her cheek?"

He leaned forward, straining to see it. "She doesn't have a mole on..."

Then his father pushed him over the rail, and he fell toward the blue water below, slowly at first, then gathering speed. Instinctively, he reached out his arms to slow his fall, even though he knew that the gesture was useless. He was going to die.

Except that instead his body felt like it was being ripped apart, and he slowed down. He glided over the water, and as he turned his heavy head back and forth, he saw large leathery wings on either side, bearing him up. He twisted to look at himself and what he could see was scaly, with a ridge of sharp upright scales down his back and a huge body ending in a large tail. He glanced at the girl and saw her pull herself into a ball, staring in disbelief. Even human eyes two miles away had no problem seeing him.

He wanted to fly far, far away. He also wanted answers. So he flexed his wings and soared upward until he came to rest by the man he hated most in the world. He considered grabbing his father in his sharp claws, and squeezing his small fragile form. But his father could probably transform, too. It would be better to be human again. Thinking that made it so, and his clothes came back as well.

"Sorry about that," said his father calmly, as if he had mis-ordered lunch or made a bit of noise after bedtime. "But when you are older and wiser, you won't fall for such a trick."

"People saw me."

"And are no doubt convincing themselves they didn't. In the old days, people would see, and tell everyone they knew. Now they fear they are going crazy. It's easier for us in some ways. Don't do that too often, but you shouldn't need to, unless you keep falling off of ledges."

"Tell me what I need to know," Brent said.

"That's what I've been trying to do all along," said his father. "I understand humans have the same problem. Their children rarely listen."

Brent sighed. He still didn't like the man, but he knew now that he didn't understand enough to judge. "Tell me," he repeated.

His father smiled. "Very well. You are a dragon. Dragons are always born in the form of human males. We have mated with women for millennia. The children of such unions are usually human, and many people have a little dragon blood flowing through their veins, as my father explained it to me. Nowadays, we probably understand it as a matter of genetics. Rarely, a dragon is born, and his father must teach him our ways.

"Perhaps because of those draconic genes, most humans instinctively understand their place with us. They desire to please, and they desire to submit. For whatever reason, women with active libidos are particularly affected, but so are a few men. Either way, and this is probably very hard for you as a modern man to understand, they don't want an equal relationship with us. They might have that with another human, but with us, they want to serve. In return we offer them protection."

"Like you did my mother," Brent said sarcastically.

"Like I did your mother without you being aware. Did she ever lack for money to clothe and feed you and herself, whether or not she had a job? Did she get into an abusive relationship?"

"No, because my stepfather is a kind and generous man," Brent said.

"I told your stepfather to marry her, and he obeyed. I have resources, Brent, built over centuries. Protection rarely means swooping down from the sky and breathing fire on enemies, or rending their flesh with our claws and teeth, especially nowadays. People would talk."

"Yeah, I suppose that would be awkward," Brent said.

"So we work more subtly. I have a bank account set up for you, Brent. Enough money to buy a sizeable house, a nice car, and have enough to live on after. You'll invest some of it and make more, because we dragons are by nature prudent with our treasure hoards. But I have some very simple conditions."

Brent raised his eyebrows.

"Stop frustrating those poor girls. Give into your dragon nature, and quit looking for the girl just like mom, who you can settle down with to show yourself how much better you are than I am. That's not the way it works, for any of us. Your mother didn't want that; she wanted me to be free and wild and the primal force nature intended."

"I doubt she wanted you to leave her and not come back until I was twenty-two."

His father laughed. "Oh, I've been around. I wouldn't leave a highly sexual woman like your mother adrift with a man like your stepfather, without giving her some regular sex on the side. But do you really want to talk about that, or about the fact that your stepfather's greatest sexual pleasure is knowing his 'hotwife' is out screwing another man?"

Brent blinked. His mother went out now and then without her husband, and she wore very sexy clothes for some of her 'girl's nights out.' He didn't want to say it all fit, but dammit, it did. He wished it didn't. "You're right. I don't want to talk about that. So why do you care how I live my life?"

"Because I want what all halfway decent fathers want for their sons, Brent." He looked out onto the ocean, back toward the yacht. "I want you to be happy. We are not prisoners of our genetics, but we cannot be truly happy if we spend our lives fighting our natures. Is your mother happy, do you think, Brent?"

Brent nodded. Despite the facts of her life as he had known them, she had always seemed happy. He had assumed because of her indomitable nature, but perhaps her life had gone more like she wanted than he thought. "Yeah."

"And your stepfather?"

"Yeah, I think he's okay."

His father smiled at that. "Then, son--and I know you regard them as your parents, and not me--will you make the same choice they did, the choice they would want you to make? Will you follow your nature, and be happy, as well?"

Brent stared out at the water and spotted the yacht again. The woman had stretched out once more, as relaxed as she had been before. Perhaps more so, as her hand had slipped into her bikini bottoms. He watched as she rubbed herself until her body shook with the force of her orgasm, and then kept watching until her eyelids fluttered and he could see her blue eyes again.

He had been comfortable being awkward and reluctant to leave the self he thought he knew. When women flirted with him, he thought they might be teasing him, ready to reject him the moment he flirted back. The life spread out before him could involve red-and-white sailed yachts, and women like the blue-eyed blonde, too. Her sex drive seemed healthy enough, even after she'd seen a dragon. Or maybe, if what his father said was to be believed, especially after she'd just seen a dragon.

"Seeing you turned her on," his father said. "She probably doesn't realize it, but it's instinctive."

"What would your role be like, going forward?" Brent asked.

"A mentor. But I have places to go, and if you'll pardon the expression, people to do. I'll drift by occasionally, and you can tell me about your life. It's not the one you had planned, and you'll need someone who understands that. Your human friends, I'm afraid, will think you've become too lucky to have any problems."

Brent nodded. "I'd like that, I think. Seeing you occasionally, but not too much. I don't want to hear about what you do with my mother, but when you're around visiting her, you could check in on me, too. And yeah. I want to be happy." He looked out at the yacht.

"You want the blonde, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"I bet she'd like to meet you, too. I think I can guess where the boat is docked. Let's drive over there, and I'll drop you off. I don't want to crowd you, but I'll give you this advice. If you tell women what you want, you'll find they usually want to please you."

They drove in his father's dark blue Jaguar sedan. When they got there, his father handed him the keys. "The title to the car is in the glove compartment. It's yours. The deed to your house is there, too. It's unfurnished, but there's a bed." Then he got out and walked off.

Brent got out of the car and watched the boat slide into place under the power of a small motor, it's sails already taken in. A man worked the ropes to secure it as the woman debarked, still just wearing the skimpy suit. She could have gone anywhere, but she walked straight toward Brent.

She smiled at him flirtatiously, as women often did. "Hi. I haven't seen you around here. I'm Sally."

He met her gaze. "Brent," he told her.

"Ah," she said, and looked away shyly.

He'd had conversations like this several times. This time he pressed on, rather than looking away. "Would you like to do something with me this evening?"

She breathed out a sigh of relief, as if she had been afraid he wouldn't ask her. "Yes. Should I get dressed?"

He remembered his father's advice. Ask for what you want. Did he want dinner, and a movie? His desires were more carnal, primal. "No. Come as you are. My car is this way."

"The Jag? Nice. And I take it that you mean that putting clothes on would just be a waste of time. Let me get my things, though." She walked toward the clubhouse. He spent a moment staring, watching her bubble butt as she walked. Then he walked toward the car and went through the glove compartment to find out where his house was. He'd need a place to take her. He whistled as he saw the address in a very nice section of town.

The man on the yacht stared at him.

When she returned, she had a bag over one shoulder, and a purse over the other, and she wore heels to protect her feet from the hot pavement of the parking lot.

"Who is the guy?" he asked, dreading the answer. A husband? A boyfriend?

"A friend. He might have thought that if he gave me a ride, he'd impress me and become something more," Sally replied. "But he was a bit dull. I think I fell asleep. While I was lying on the deck, I had the oddest dream."

It wasn't a dream, thought Brent. Unless this is part of a dream, too. "You can help me break in my new house," he said.

"I'd love to," Sally told him.

He had to open the glove compartment to find out where it was. He pulled up the address on his phone, which only took him a few tries.

Sally watched him curiously. "You know, you can set your address to 'home' and just pull it up automatically each time."

"Ah. Haven't done that yet."

She nodded. "Ah yes, you said it was a new house. I bet the car has a GPS too." She reached over, and pushed a few buttons. "Mind if I set it up for you?"

"No, feel free," he said gratefully.

They got there a few minutes later. She didn't ask him questions, for which he was grateful. He had a lot to process. The house was medium-sized, with a deck that overlooked the sound, opposite the lookout where he and his father had talked. The key fit the front door perfectly. Had his father kept a key? Should he change the lock? He'd worry about that another time. Right now he had a gorgeous blonde with him.

"I'd offer you a drink," he said, "but I don't even have any cups yet. Or anything to drink, except water from the tap." Here he was trying to seduce her, and he couldn't even offer ordinary hospitality.

She smiled and shook her head. "That's okay, you don't need to get me drunk. We both know why we're here. You like my body?" She posed for him.

He took a moment to look her over, from up close. The funny thing was, he couldn't see her that much better from two feet than he could from two miles. But with the invitation, and without his father present, he could enjoy the view. She had wide, womanly hips and curves in all the right places, and she arched her back to display her half-covered breasts to maximum advantage. "I love it," he told her honestly.

"Then, well, do you have a bed, or do we use the floor."

"I have a bed. I just have to find it."

She looked at him curiously. "Is this really your house?"

"You saw the deed," he said.

"You're very odd. But very sexy." She reached out and rubbed his chest. "Take me to bed, Brent."

Seized by a sudden impulse, he scooped her up. She shrieked as he did, and then laughed. His hand cupped her ass, his other arm around her shoulder. He carried her through the house, exploring a couple of doors until at last he found the master bedroom.

The bed inside was a huge four poster, with red satin sheets. Behind it, a window gave a view of the sound, and the mountains beyond.

"That bed is big enough for an orgy," she said.

"The important thing is that it's big enough for me and you."

She grinned. "Set me down, and I'll undress you."

He set her down and stood while she pulled his t-shirt over his head. She went to her knees on the hardwood floor to remove his shoes, and then his belt, and then unzip his pants. Watching her, he felt his cock harden. She was delicious, and her swimsuit left little to the imagination.

She pulled his pants and his underwear down, and his cock sprang free. "Oh my," she said. "It's big. And beautiful." She only got his pants as far as his knees before she started licking the tip. She pushed them down a little further, bunching them up near his shins, before getting distracted and taking his shaft in both her small, soft hands. A drop of pre-cum formed, and she licked it off before opening her lips to slide his cock into her warm, wet mouth.

It was almost as if she was worshiping him. Brent pushed the thought out of his mind. Dragon or no dragon, he was no better than anyone else. He wanted to remember that, to stay human like his mother and the man who had been around for him, the man he still regarded as his real father. But the feeling of power was intoxicating, and Sally's mouth was distracting. His cock swelled further, and he knew he couldn't hold off coming for long. "I - I'm going to cum if you keep that up," he told her.

She pulled off, and he thought she was going to suggest that he go down on her, instead. He hoped he could do a good job of that, and please her. But she smiled and said, "Good. Your precum was a delicious appetizer, I can't wait to have the whole thing." With that she went back to his cock. She couldn't get all of him in her mouth, but she used her hands to stroke his shaft while she bobbed up and down on his cock. The mix of sensations, warm and wet, and cool hands, drove him crazy, and he could hold back no longer. His cock spasmed, shooting cum down her throat, pulsing again and again to shoot more.