"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.
