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Peace in Solitude

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Great. Another shitty day at work. I can't quit this one, not after I went jobless for months since the last time I quit.

Fucking bitch couldn't take responsibility for the fact that she'd spilled the soda she'd already half-opened on herself. Seriously. She fucking drank some of it before she'd even bought it, and I hadn't notice it wasn't tightly capped before I'd put it in a bag and handed it to her. She'd pulled it out and spilled her own loosely sealed soda on her cheap as hell shirt.

But nope. Not her fault. Of course it's the lowly bagger's problem. I cussed her out in the damn store and got in a helluva ton of trouble with the boss, but damn was it worth it. Still, I got fucked over and had to go without working the rest of today and the week.

Which meant I wouldn't have enough money for rent. God damnit.

Life is shit.

I had to drag my legs to get myself moving through the urban jungle. Lord knows I live in a ghetto--it's all I could afford with this minimum wage job--and I didn't want to get shot out here.

Or maybe I did.

It certainly wasn't my desire to live that was making me drag my feet, that's for sure.

Almost regrettably, I made it back to my crappy apartment without encountering any trouble. The sun was still up since I was forced to leave work so early, and that was probably why I hadn't been mugged in the streets. Shit, the thugs here probably knew my pockets were empty most of the time.

God, I'm even wishing I had cash to be stolen. How much lower can I go? How much more does life want to screw with me?

It had all went wrong. Life had decided to just massively fuck me over one day, one pivotal day which had driven me to the edge of insanity. I'd never been a bad man. I'd never drunk beer or shit, I'd never done drugs, I'd never stolen anything before that one day. I'd never even had sex before. I was a bloody angel, but it wasn't enough for them.

I was graduating from high school. I'd been accepted to a good university, but there was nothing which could wash away my sin in their eyes.

Yes, I was an abomination. I was gay.

They were idiots, but they were my parents. I believed they would still love me. I'd been going out with someone my senior year of high school, and like a good boy, filled with words of acceptance and love from the internet, I told them.

But the people online didn't understand how ignorant some people could be, especially hardcore traditionalist dragons. Even I couldn't believe how asinine my parents were. I was kicked out of the house the very next hour after I'd told them my secret.

Their faces had been remorseless. The loving faces which had raised me from birth had borne nothing but scorn after that moment, and I was left to fend for myself in a harsh world.

I had tried. I'd taken what financial aid my school would give and tried to work my way through college. I failed. After the first year, they'd raised the price of tuition beyond my means. It was either go to school and hope for a better future, or starve to death. And believe me, I'd done the math. That was still the choice even if I were to crawl through school on instant noodles.

Hah. Instant noodles. How I would have hungered without your sweet MSG.

Sigh. At the very least, I could feel good about one thing. I'd taken the gay hate bullet for my secret high school boyfriend. He was such a sweet guy. We'd kissed and cuddled and stuff but had never gone all the way. Still, I liked him. I'm glad he saw what had happened to me and stayed in the closet. I'd given him the chance to flip off his redneck parents _after_he'd graduated from college on their dime and become a computer engineer or something.

But I couldn't see him again. We'd both agreed it would be safer that way. I haven't been able to meet anyone else, though, nobody to replace the high school love I couldn't see again for at least the next few years. Not that I've had much of a chance to. My time was all spent working and working, trying my best to scrounge enough cash to get by. I should've tried to hook up with someone that first year of college, somehow squeeze a sliver of time between study and work, because now...

I was lost, and there was nobody to help me.

My legs felt as if they were strung with heavy weights as I climbed the stairs to my oh so fine room. My tail dragged along with them, whatever filth ridden in the carpeting smearing over my worn scales. My shoulders felt heavy, burdened by my vestigial wings which gave me barely enough lift to glide from rooftops to shorter rooftops.

I could've lived with it, if only I had someone who cared about me. Someone to be there when I stepped back into my apartment, someone who would give me a hug and assure me everything would be alright. Someone who would kiss me and make me feel loved. Someone who would listen to my troubles and be there for me regardless of how stupid or shitty I was feeling. Someone for me to hold on to when I'm at my lowest, someone to make me _want_to live again.

Reality shat on my imagination as I daydreamed of this unobtainable someone. I'd reached my floor, but my place was still down the main hallway. Which was currently being occupied by my landlord. Fantastic.

Oh boy. It almost looked like he was waiting for me. The wolf started stomping towards me, full of purpose which most likely involved extracting rent from me. The worst part about this wasn't the fact that he was going to chew me out for not having enough for this month's due date. No, the worst part of interacting with him was the fact that I couldn't stop salivating at his hunky as fuck body. He had to be a tough asshole to live in this shit ghetto, of course, but it didn't help that he almost always wore a tight, stained wifebeater which showed off his muscles underneath.

"Oye," the silver-furred wolf shouted, "what's your sorry scaly ass doing back from work so early? You got my rent, runt?"

"It's not due 'til next week." I'd tried to respond coolly, but my ears were telling me that I had spoken out several volumes below my intended level of confidence.

He started trampling his way towards me. "Do ya think I'm stupid, you little runt? Ya thinking I'm gonna believe you, the little shithead dragon who's always broke as fuck, are gonna have all my rent with your tail missin' out a day of work?"

My tongue tried to lash out, but it couldn't find the words. Instead, I found myself bumping into the end of the hallway, right next to the stairwell. God damnit, why did I have to be such a fucking pussy?

I realized a moment too late that I could've made for the stairs. Frozen against the wall, I could only fumble with malicious thoughts swimming throughout my head, but I could never dare speak them aloud. I certainly couldn't do it with a massive wolf towering all over me, trapping me against fur and muscle. With one arm cutting me off from the stairs, he used his other to grab my neck and threateningly started choking me.

I wanted to kick him in the balls and run. I was so close to not caring how dead I would be by trying. But I had no balls of my own. Instead, I begged him to let me go. "Please," I gasped, "I'll pay what I can this week and next paycheck I can pay you full."

"Yer always a bag o' worthless promises," the stupid wolf said. "Nah, fuck that. You pay me an advance now."

"I--I can't!"

"Pft, I know you ain't got the cash."

He tightened his hold on my neck, and I started feeling lightheaded. "W-wait, please," I muttered out. God, I was so fucking pathetic.

"Nah, no waiting," he said. I was dazed and confused, and he carried me somehow to my room with those stupid sexy buff arms of his, one keeping me on the verge of blacking out the entire short way.

I was barely able to feel myself being thrown onto my nearly rock hard bed, but the pressure disappearing from my throat quickly brought back my awareness. "What the hell," I said, "I'm no use to you dead."

"I ain't trying to kill you, you faggot. Yah, that's right, I knew it. I saw yer ears perk. Yer a gay little faggot dragon, I fucking knew it. You even landed on yer shit bed with your tail up."

Instinctively, I swatted my tail down. It was stopped. A furry hand prevented me from lowering my tail. Shit, I knew where this was going, but I still didn't have the balls to do anything about it except whine. "N-no, wait, no, I swear I'll get you my rent--"

"Shut yer mouth. I can smell how horny you get every time you see me. You crave this manly bod, don't you, yah little twinky whore? Stop acting like yah don't want it, fag!"

I struggled. He was fucking sexy, but just because my body craved him didn't mean I wanted anything to do with him. My resistance was rewarded with a hard punch to the head, knocking me almost back into unconsciousness again, and my muscles stopped responding to my aching head.

"There we go, a good hit to the skull knocked some sense into you. Yah should be grateful, not every landlord 'round here would take boy pussy as payment!"

My head was throbbing, and I couldn't even get my mouth to respond. I heard a disgusting spit, followed by a splatter of wetness hitting under my tail. This was it. I was going to get raped and there was nothing I could do about it.

It was nothing like the sex my secret cute high school lover and I had experienced. He just crammed his fat cock into me without regard for anything but his own filthy pleasure, making me feel like I was worth less than dirt. I screamed as he pried me open without proper lube, but nobody here would even raise an eyebrow at a scream. I doubted anyone with a heart would even dare to investigate in this shithole.

I tried to quiet down. Shouting was going to do nothing but make my throat hurt and make my landlord hornier, but I couldn't stop. I wanted to, but I couldn't stop. My eyes were ignoring me too, leaking tears all over without my permission. Even worse, my dick was betraying me too, and I could feel one of the wolf's manly paws release my shoulder and fly down to my sadly hard cock.

He laughed and called me slut and whore and all that shit, and I couldn't do jack about it. My body ignored me, and I could do nothing about it. It even throbbed and leaked pre to hammer in how little control I had over it. It was letting me be milked by that husky furry paw. Well, fuck you body. This time I'm going to go through with my plans.

My flesh wanted that horrible knotted wolf cock. My mind wanted to die. This was the last straw, the final shove over the cliff. I will fall today.

As if to spite me, my body made me orgasm. It tried to lure me with fleeting pleasure, a futile nectar of regret. It was poison for the soul, and I wouldn't let a moment of bliss make me forget about all my pains.

"Aww yeah," the wolf growled, shattering what little happiness was managing to seep from my loins into my head. "Keep on squeezing yah little scaly butt like that! Knew you faggot would love my thick meat. Can even feel yah shooting yerself, slut. Well shit, time for the knotty finale!"

The fleeting pleasure from my throbbing cock fled faster than I had hoped. It did nothing to steel me for the terrible stinging flaring from my tail hole as the wolf relentlessly tried to bury his fucking huge bone into me, knot and all. My eyes streamed again from the sheer physical pain, and it took all my willpower to hold down a scream. That fucker wanted to hear me yell, I bet, and I wasn't going to let him have it.

Pound after pound, he crammed himself in, prying my broken ass apart. His rough paws grappled my horns, holding my head down and forcing me to take all of the brutish hammering. Tears of excruciating pain flowed freely all around my face. My eyes were shut tightly, and I saw images of people whose love I dearly wanted.

Mom and dad. Strong dragons. The blood of my people ran thick in their veins, but it also made their brains stubborn with tradition. I was the opposite of them. Weak, but smarter, I'd like to think, or at least more willing to be molded by newer modes of thinking. I mentally reached out to them, begging for help, but even in the shelter of my mind, I knew what would happen. They turned their backs on me and spread their wings, thoroughly disowning me as clearly as they had actually done in reality.

My secret high school boyfriend. He was also a dragon, but with crimson red scales, and he had the muscles my heritage had failed to pass on to me. He might've been able to get away with declaring himself bisexual thanks the his sheer masculinity (doubtful still), but he was so kindhearted and gentle with me. A great dragon, and a great person. He might've helped me if I asked, but I couldn't dare let myself be seen with him. I couldn't live with myself if I ruined his future too. Hell, I couldn't live with myself now. Not any more. In my head, he reached to me, but I couldn't take his claws. No. Not him. He was too good to suffer like I have.

Grandparents. Other family members. All backs turned. There'd be no help from any of them.

The few friends I made in college. They were also pretty much trying to scrape by, ever at the mercy of rising tuition costs. I couldn't put myself as a burden on them. They could offer me mental support, maybe, but they would try to dissuade me from suicide, and it was too late for that.

My head was dragged upward. A harsh pull on my horns raised me up, straining my neck, and there was a deafening howl. Shameful warmth filled my ass. Great. He was done. Now leave me alone, leave me to rot in this shithole.

His cock throbbed and throbbed, emptying his balls until every last drop of his seed smeared me with disgrace. When it pulsed no more, he grunted and slapped my ass, drawing a pathetic reactive whine out of my muzzle.

"Yer a worthless whore," he said. "You've got two extra weeks to pay up the rent, whore."

And then he pulled out. No warning, no tugging, just one rough pull and a loud, wet, sickly pop. He left me lying there with almost unbearable pain drumming from my ravaged hole, but not before giving me a disgusting spit on the muzzle. He walked out, undoubtedly satisfied with himself, and didn't even bother shutting my door.

Fuck. I felt utterly drained, but I forced myself to move. I managed to slide off my crappy cum stained bed and crawled, crippled with pain both physical and mental, to my apartment door. I closed it with my head and struggled to reach up to lock it. I didn't do it out of some sense of self-preservation. I didn't want to be interrupted for my final act, and I certainly didn't want some of the other sketchy tenants who must've heard me figure there was a cock sleeve ready for them.

After I managed to turn the lock, I tried to stand. I tried to grab a hold of the doorknob and get up. I fell. I've tried to do it so many times, I've said I would over and over.

I was worn, ragged, abused, and ready to call it quits. This time...this time I think I'm going to finally click that "end game" button for life. I've had enough.

Maybe it would've been okay if there'd been someone there to catch me when I fell onto my stomach as my legs buckled out from the weight of the shit piled on my back. Someone to take my hand, life me up, and walk me to the couch where he'd kiss me and tell me there was still some good in this world. There wasn't that someone, and my body had fallen through the arms of nothing but the harsh intangible air.

I sobbed. I bawled like a baby. I was a lost soul, fading in the dark. I tried to keep myself quiet, to hold on to some sort of dignity. Not that I gave a damn anymore. Not a single fucking damn.

One more effort of will. I was exhausted and weak, and my head and tail hurt like hell, but I managed to untangle my mass of limbs and wings and twisted myself upright somehow. I felt something wet inch its way down my legs and, regretfully, I looked. It was a nauseating mixture of white and red. I would've toppled over again at the sight if it hadn't been for the door to lean on.

It became harder to breathe, and I was feeling queasy. No matter, it would all be over soon. I just had to make it to the rickety dresser.

Life sucks, and then you die. Why the fuck shouldn't I just skip the first part? Normal people can sit on their high towers and judge me all they want. They weren't the ones with blood and cum oozing out their asses. Fuck them. Fuck life.

I sat on the rusty stool in front of the dresser and opened the top drawer. I opened the box I'd managed to nick from my dad before I'd been abandoned. My hands were starting to quake, but I took a firm hold of the thing inside. My father's silver Desert Eagle. It packed enough firepower to pierce dragon scale and skull.

I would set myself in front of a mirror every time I tried. The quality of the mirror dropped every time, a parallel to the deterioration of my life. Every time I tried to end it all, I stopped to look at myself. To try and find anything to redeem. Every time I looked, I was more and more broken. I look at myself now, sniffling and trying my best to pull myself together, barely able to sit on the stupid stool with my bleeding, aching back, and I was sure the cracks in my soul have had enough.

I'd tried. I really did try. I'd never been suicidal, not even after my parents had exiled me. I'd tried to laugh and make friends in the single year of college I'd been allowed to have. I'd tried to have fun and remain upbeat up until the very end with the little free time that I had between school and work, all the way up to when the tuition bill slapped me in the face and sent me tumbling down into the abyss. I had tried. Life didn't give a shit, and I failed.

I'm broken beyond hope. I'm going to die here. I always talk myself out of it, find some glimmer of light, but there was none now. I would die here with dirty wolf cum leaking out of my torn ass, and I couldn't care anymore. Please, stupid survival instinct, just let me end the pain now. No deep contemplation, no regret, just embrace release...

My hand trembled, my trigger finger itched. Just one pull, one short signal from my brain to contract that little muscle in my finger, and it would be all over. All the suffering, the loneliness, and the crushing cynicism would make way for beautiful nothingness--if there was no afterlife.

Shit, now wasn't the time to start second guessing about what was beyond the veil. I couldn't let myself have any of those "life flashing before my eyes" reels and have my survival instinct put the gun down. No, I've backed out of this too many times--this would be the last.

Fuck. Too late. I started recalling. Oh, but it wasn't the kind of flashback I'd expected. All I saw were my parents looking at me. They're faces were instilled with anger, just as they were the day I was booted out.

"You are worthless," they both said to me. And in my head, they kept repeating it, over and over, until their voices twisted into my landlord's trash English.

The memory blurred, and then I was faced with myself. A mirror. I looked at myself, broken and pathetic. "Yer a worthless whore," I said to myself.

A cold sensation from my other hand. I looked down and tried to see through the blur that I had ignored. More water. Too much of that already.

One pull. One small action. Then it would be over. I could stop crying like a baby. I could end the shame and sorrow.

"I am worthless," I said.

...

...

Bang.