The Tiger's Secret Baby by Ava Frost Page B

never, even occasionally suffer from a flaccid dick. I called my free therapist, otherwise known as my best friend, Thaddeus.
    “Talk to me.” A deep baritone voice said.
    “Thad. I got a problem.” I responded as I swept up the glass.
    Unlike me, Thaddeus was a dragon. Yup. In his human form, he was about 6’7, complexion resembling something Latino, and covered in a large dragon tattoo that started at his lower back and trailed in a zig-zagg up his entire back and down his front all the way down to his dick. It has been rumored the dragon head of his tattoo is supposed to be eating his dick. Others have said his dick is centered to be the dragon’s tongue. As I have no interest in his dick, I cannot tell you. However, I like him. Being a dragon means he has lived for several years and, as a result, knows his shit.
    “Let me guess. You banged a stripper and now she’s convinced she’s in love with you and can’t get you out of her mind.” He joked.
    “No, you idiot, though you aren’t too far from the truth. This morning, I had a clinger. But that was easy in comparison to my real issue.”
    “Talk to me.” He was very serious when it came to problems amongst his friends. Apparently dragons were very clingy with things they deemed as theirs. Something I had no trouble imagining as dragons in their animal state have caves of things they horde and protect.
    “I can’t get it up,” I said.
    He laughed. I don’t know what I was expecting but laughing wasn’t it.
    “Nice try funny guy. But if I’m betting money on who can’t get it up, my money’s on John.”
    John was the third in our paranormal trio. He was a zombie. Now let’s get some things clear as people like to typecast my friend. John is a zombie, not a ghoul. Zombies are reanimated dead bodies, that’s it. Ghouls are demonic like things that eat human beings and can’t be stopped unless beheaded. John is a nice guy. I can’t tell you how many people stereotype him because of those awful human movies. Well except The Walking Dead, that’s a great TV show. I just can’t knock it.
    “I’m serious T. I’ve lost my mojo.” I’m sure my voice portrayed my dismay.
    “What exactly do you mean?”
    “I mean this fine girl was sucking me so good, I could have whispered a prayer and nothing. Not one rise for the occasion.”
    “Maybe she wasn’t as good as you thought.”
    “What? I been banging chicks on a daily for about 300 years and you know this Thad. She was top shelf, quality head. She even swallowed my balls at one point.”
    “Well damn.” He was quiet for a moment. “Then what the hell has gotten into you?”
    I shrugged as if he could see me. “I don’t know.”
    “Has anything changed in the last couple of weeks? What were you doing the day your dick was rebelling against spectacular head?”
    I thought on his words. Nothing had changed for me. I went to work, where I was the head of a glass manufacturing company. We manufactured special glass that protected vampires from the sun. It didn’t mean they could go outside but it was less dangerous sleeping in your home or driving in your car. It was a very lucrative business. Having started my company from scratch but been running it for centuries, I had amassed serious wealth. I spent most of my days traveling to new places and trying new things. So in short, nothing was different.
    “Bro, nothing has changed.” Again, he went quiet.
    “I think I know what it is and you’re not going to like it.” Aw hell, when your friend of 300 years says to you, I’ve got an idea but you’re not going to like it, rest assured, you’re not going to like it.
    “Tell me.” It’s like a Band-Aid, best to just rip it off.
    “I have heard of shapeshifters being rewired for when they were close to finding their true love.”
    “What?!” I yelled at my friend. I try hard not to yell, yelling never resolves things and yet here I was, yelling. “Do you mean to tell me, my dick is