The slight ripples breaking the calm surface were the only indication of the predator swimming underneath the bayou. Trinity's tail-fin flowed as gently as the river as she followed a school of Louisianan bass, careful not to startle her prey. Her mother had served them pan-fried Cajun-style during her last visit. All those hours spent removing tiny bones with her claws had not been the dragoness' idea of fun, but neither mother nor her sister had the constitution to digest cartilage. And, as the man of the house, Taniyah had always expected Trinity to clean the fish. Being as much a woman as either of them now hadn't changed that. Trinity propelled herself forward with a powerful jolt and opened her maw.
Water and surprised fish rushed into her waiting mouth. Trinity could feel the desperate wiggling of the crappies as their fins and scaly bodies smacked against her fanged teeth – it was an uncomfortable experience. With an annoyed, gurgling hiss, she snapped her maw shut. The dragoness could hear their bones break with a satisfying crackle as they released their raw guts and organs down her waiting gullet. Something akin to goosebumps spread along her scales as she swallowed and felt the fish slither down her serpentine neck.
Trinity flared her nostrils, opening them and releasing bubbles of air before she surfaced. The dragoness savored the texture and taste as she cleaned her teeth of the fleshy remains and blood with her coiling tongue. The were-community called it the “Call of the Full Moon,” a deep-seated, primal need to abandon the trappings of humanity for a while. Spending a weekend lurking in the bayou and then nesting in the swampy marshlands after a full day of hunting kept Trinity from becoming stir-crazy when returning to the city. She couldn't explain it so it made sense, but the waterways of New Orleans felt so claustrophobic, limiting. And a part of her envied those who stayed out here.
Although living out here was not without dangers. Trinity flexed her massive arm muscles, the corded sinew of her biceps bulging them out further as they bundled with energy that she discharged as she took her a powerful stroke with her webbed claws. You needed physical strength to defend yourself and the mental fortitude to survive without regressing to a feral state. The dragoness knew she possessed one of them in abundance, at least. And having a tribe or friends to rely on helped keep you sane.
Trinity took a few more strokes before planting her feet on the river's edge. The dragoness pulled herself up onto the overgrown oil barge, using a large cypress as support.
Water ran dripping from her glistening black scales and left wet footprints in the deckings as Trinity navigated herself toward the sound of a crackling fire. Curling her black lips and losing her patience trying to swat the swamp insects away, the dragoness snapped her tail and wings in the air to send the flying critters scurrying. Then, like a censer, the tip of her tail began releasing a toxic miasma. That should keep them at a distance, she noted with grim satisfaction as several fell twitching from the air. Glass crunched harmlessly against her feet as she passed a set of broken windows before turning the final corner. So many memories here, but most of them felt so distant now after shedding her false skin.
Frank was poking a sausage that sat at the end of a wooden stick with a claw. Then, shrugging, he returned to hold it over the burn barrel. The were-alligator was wearing a sleeveless vest but nothing else. His pockets were filled with sundry tackle and survival tools. Trinity wore an amused expression, and couldn't for the life of her understand what the middle-aged reptile saw in fishing when it felt so much more liberating to catch them directly. He had even turned her offer for a swim down earlier. She should've been upset but, out of draconic magnanimity, joined him anyway. The amazonian dragoness squeezed her arms around his muscled torso and pushed her wet breasts into his back. She shuddered as she felt her nipples brush against his mottled and rough scales. As she pressed her chest harder against him, his scales were still unyielding.
After settling down behind him, one of her arms-wings clutched a stick and then waved it impatiently before his eyes until he grabbed it and skewered a sausage on top. Trinity leaned her head against his and slowly writhed her slender neck so she rubbed her face against his. The dragoness opened her maw slightly and probed her forked tongue against his leathery snout until he gave in and kissed Trinity back. “Ssss~okha,” she let out a reverberating hiss close to one of his ears as she slithered away with her head, using the new name Frank had taken for himself after converting to the worship of Tiamat. It was one of many old/new religions that had popped up in New Orleans after the transformation. He reacted exactly as she had wanted as the tips of their tails coiled together, “expect you out there with me later. And not with your fishing rod. Don't relish ending up with another hook stuck in my jaw. Oh man, did that hurt.”
They weren't dating, not exactly. But after bearing with Trinity during the mess and broken furniture during her first time as a woman, she trusted him. The older were-alligator had been so... so experienced, understanding, and gentle through everything. The transformation brought on by the shard had increased everyone's libido. Faithful spouses weren't suddenly picking up strangers in bars, unless both were in on it, but everyone had a more casual and permissive attitude toward sex and nudity. The orgies on Bourbon Street were absolutely wild. And what use did a dragon have for clothes? Especially one nuzzled up against her sometime-lover while sitting in front of a fire.
“You're free to join usss~.” She could feel a low growl rumbling through her body as cast her green eyes around the barrel. Ssokha was so easy to please. “Or jusss~t the two of usss~?”