Hannibal Lecter looked hella fine.
He had traded his suit and tie for something that suited him a bit better.
Yes, this was much, much better.
The stretchy fabric accentuated his round butt, and the neon yellow contrasted perfectly with his tanned skin.
"It's only a matter of time, Will Graham," he chuckled into the mirror.
Even he had to admit the thong looked sexy on his toned body. Flexing his muscular thighs in the mirror, Hannibal made a duckface and stuck his enormous butt into the air. Just in time for his seven o'clock appointment with Will. He turned on the radio and began to engage in heavy duty twerking. The music flowed through his body, and he watched as his junk jiggled along with the beat.
He had had the thong custom made. It said "BIG AND HEFTY" on the front. Except he had ordered a size too small. This may be a problem.
After hours of twerking, Hannibal heard a knock on the door. He dragged his heaving body across the room, sweat dripping down his hairy chest. Flinging open the door, he stared at his next patient.
"D-doctor Lecter?" Will stuttered, his eyes constantly wandering to Hannibal's thong.
"Come in," Hannibal said with a chilling smile.
Will squeezed through the doorway, but not before Hannibal shoved him against the wall and rubbed his junk all over Will's back. As soon as he felt the scratchy yellow fabric touch him, Will turned around slowly and dramatically. He brought out a gun and aimed it at the psychiatrist's face.
"Are you a twerker, Doctor Lecter?" He asked menacingly, his hands shaking.
"BITCH I MIGHT BE," he roared.
"Doctor Lecter, this isn't a game. A serial twerker is loose. And I think it might be you."
"Are you going to shoot me, Will?" Hannibal asked, wiggling his eyebrows.
"One more booty shake and I might."
Hannibal ignored him. He began to twerk in Will's face. Loud rap music began playing out of no where. Will screamed as the older man overtook him, throwing him onto the cold floor. The psychiatrist laughed and continued dancing. The way Hannibal shook his junk was hypnotic. He could only stare hopelessly as the yellow thong bounced up and down.
It was him. Will knew it.
And as he lay beaten on Hannibal's wood floor, he could only think one thing...
Hannibal was a serial twerker.
And this was only the beginning.