Councilwoman One - Part 2 - Preview (Patreon)

Having awoken from the weirdest Ambian-induced dream he'd ever had, the Monarch throws on his tattered, old bathrobe and meanders his way down to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee.  With his house being remodeled and still in a semi-stupor from the anti-insomnia drug, he manages to trip over a random pile of paint cans and nearly falls down the stairs.

After a brief string of expletives, he enters the kitchen and goes straight to the coffeepot without giving his wife or his henchmen so much as sideways glance.  He is in no mood for any hi-jinx or tomfoolery.

Dr Mrs: Guh...  G'morning, sweetie.  How'd you sleep?

The Monarch:  Urgh...like shit.  I had the most surreal dream.  You were screaming some guys name while getting schtupped on a Liliana Cavani film set.  Fucking weird.

Dr Mrs and Gary steal a quick, knowing, half-smirking glance as The Monarch turns towards them.

The Monarch: (suspiciously) What?

Dr Mrs: Nothing, dear.  Inside joke.  Yuh had to be there.

The Monarch: Uh-huh.  Whatever.  I'll leave you two jokey-mick-jokertens to your witty, insider exchanges.  Probably talking about me behind my back anyway.  I'm going back upstairs to shower away this drug-funk.

With a raised eyebrow, the Monarch takes a sip of his coffee while eyeing his wife's bathrobe and wet hair.

The Monarch: Or am I going to be taking a cold shower, he asked Dr Mrs 'steams up the bathroom for a solid hour' begrudgingly?

Dr Mrs: Well, if you'd get us a decent water heater that holds more than twenty gallons instead of buying fifteen hundred dollar wall sconces...

The Monarch: Ah, yes, speaking of remodeling...  If Manolo wants to see another sunrise, I suggest he pick up all the paint cans at the top of the stairs.  I nearly fucking died coming down here.

Coffee in hand, the Monarch scuttles out of the kitchen and up the stairs.  At the top he manages to trip over the exact same pile of paint cans as before.

The Monarch: MOTHER FUCKER!

Startled, Dr Mrs suddenly reaches and down and grabs the inside of Gary's thigh as a deluge of paint cans comes clanging and clucking down the stairs.   Gary, in turn, spit-takes milk onto the kitchen table once again.  After a short tirade of death threats and expletives, the upstairs bathroom door slams shut.

Dr Mrs: (chuckling) Ho' jesus...sorry, Gary.

Read the entire story and see the good Doctor in all of her henchman-seducing glory at the $5 tier level.  :D

Original Art by HD-2

Commissioned by Phillipthe2