Category: Fiction

Jake and Jessica – Girl Talk

Chapter 7: Girl Talk


Chapter 1 – The Annihilator (NSFW -Explicit sex)
Chapter 2 – The Annihilator is Dead
Chapter 3 – It Was a Good Day
Chapter 4 – The Jake Must Go On
Chapter 5 – A Daring Rescue
Chapter 6 – Sweet Brothings


“But what about Kelsey?”

Jessica had nearly forgotten that she’d only told the Marco story in order to distract from talking about Kelsey. Jake wasn’t going to let it go. She sighed.

Seeing her reluctance, he thought better of pushing. “You don’t have to tell me, if it’s a thing. I was just curious.” Her nervousness before the game that day had come as a total surprise to him.

“No.” Jessica said. She searched for words. “It’s just sort of delicate. I guess.”

Jake waited for her to elaborate. She scrambled for another distraction.

“Remember when you dated that sorority girl from Texas that called you Chocolate?”

“Oh Gross.” Jake had nearly forgotten the embarrassment of the girl they called the Chocoholic. She’d been obsessed with his blackness. She said some of the dumbest things any person had ever said to him from assuming that he didn’t know his father to reminding him multiple times that her dad would try and kill him with increasing levels of seriousness and creepiness. He’d dumped her quickly and quietly when she’d crossed the line and called him a ‘my negro.’ It still bothered him that he’d ever thought that her behavior was anything close to okay.

Of course, he’d read the blogs. He realized that he shouldn’t be ashamed of himself, only of her, but he couldn’t help feeling like an idiot for falling for it even once. Being reduced to nothing more than a caricature and having gone along with it in any way was something he didn’t like to dwell on.

“Oh God, Jess, is Kelsey a racist?”

“No!” she snorted a laugh. “Dude, she’s literally color blind.”

“Uh huh. You ever wonder how it is that people who call themselves ‘color blind’ so frequently tend to only know white people and only hire white people?”

“Oh yeah, and they’re all like ‘I don’t see color.’” Jess said that last bit with a snotty accent that sounded suspiciously like her mother.

“You don’t see color because you don’t have any people of color anywhere around you and you’ve made sure it stays like that!” Jake told the imaginary racist. “But seriously” he said “What does the Chocoholic have to do with your girl?”

Jess put her face in her hands. She’d completely forgotten that they’d nick-named her The Chocoholic. She’d gone after every black dude in their frat. She’d even hit on Aditya, but lost interest when he gently but firmly explained that he wasn’t her type. “Man” she said “We were so shitty to that girl.”

Jake objected. She was, after all, a racist. Jess said that the way they reacted to her racism was a perfect example of toxic masculinity and that rather than giving her a racist nickname in it’s own right, they should have shut her out in other ways. Eventually, they agreed intersectionality is a thing, and they were back to the subject of Kelsey.

Jess hesitated. So much of this wasn’t hers to talk about. “You ever date a girl with… stuff?”

“What, like a penis?” Jake asked

Jess laughed. No, that would be easy.

“Actually” she said “Kelsey is cis. We met through the Ladies Auxiliary because her dad is trans. He couldn’t come today but they usually come to stuff together. He was a single parent, so she’s pretty protective of him. Likes to support him and everything.”

Jake crooked an eyebrow. “But the” he asked while gesturing at his own face when he couldn’t remember the words.

“Cis women can be color blind too Jake, God.”

“Shit, sorry. I don’t know medical things. So what do you mean? What is ‘stuff?’”

“Like trauma, like a history.”

“She got beat?”

“And way worse. Like sexual trauma stuff.”

“Oh shit.” Jake’s eyes were wide. “I guess that’s why her dad raised her alone?”

“Yeah” Jess said without elaborating. Kelsey had told her after their third date that she wanted to talk. At the time, Jess was terrified that she was about to get the let down, but Kelsey explained that she’d been molested and she had some ground rules Jess had to follow if they wanted to keep dating each other. She’d been over-joyed not to be dumped. But she also felt a new level of responsibility to her girlfriend.

Jake thought about it. A few of the girls he’d been with had told him about things from their past. One ex was date-raped by a guy she thought was her best friend, another had been molested by her nanny. Every girl had stories of people who’d tried to take advantage of them in different ways. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t usually date women long enough to learn that much about them. He told Jess as much.

Jess told him about the ground rules talk. Jake said he thought that was a pretty mature approach. Privately, he wondered what he’d say if he had a ground rules talk.

“Not to sound insensitive” Jake said, “but what’s the big deal, I mean you both kind of have… stuff.”

“Fuck. Why does everybody think I was molested?” Jess answered.

Jake laughed at first, but got serious when she shot him an angry look and he quickly clarified that he didn’t mean that. He’d done his homework after Jess came out. He knew all about dysphoria. Of course, just as he was patting himself on the back about it, She informed him that some transpeople don’t really experience dysphoria and that she was one of them.

“Okay, this is going to sound like a dumb question, but if you don’t have dysphoria how do you know you’re trans?”

Jess rolled her eyes. “Are you serious, dude? How do you know your gender if you don’t feel bad about it? Come on.”

“Point taken” Jake said “But I’ve never heard of that.”

Jess looked sheepish. “I don’t talk about it much because I’ve had a lot of people react badly.” The first time she’d told a therapist that she didn’t feel dysphoric, the woman had answered with a blunt ‘Then why are you here?’ Thankfully, she had good enough insurance to find another therapist and fast, but a lot of other people weren’t so lucky.

“Kelsey has panic attacks” she told Jake “And she used to cut herself. I have no idea how I’m supposed to deal with that, dude.’

Jake laughed. Jess didn’t seem amused but he raised an eyebrow and replied to her silent judgement. “That’s kinda ironic, though, right?”

“Oh fuck you, dude.”

“Weren’t we right here having this same exact conversation this morning?’ Jake asked “You’re not obligated to her now that you know this about her, but if you like her, you figure it out even if it’s awkward, right?”

Jess nodded.

“I bet you she knows how to deal with her shit better than you do, am I right?”

Jess nodded again.

“Take it from me” Jake told her “She’ll let you know. Just don’t be an ass.”

Jake and Jessica Vol. 1 is on Amazon

JakeandJessica_vol1_minicover I am exited to announce that, due to your amazing support for Jake and Jessica, I have been able to publish Volume 1 on Amazon. Chapters 1-6 are available for $1.49.

At that price, I make about $0.50 a book. Amazon suggested I sell the book for $2.99, and I decided against it because I want the story to stay as accessible as possible in all its formats. The idea behind the Amazon version is to give people choices in terms of how they wan to read. I know Kindle is more convenient for some people. I also want to see how likely it is to generate outside interest by using Amazon as a channel.

Outside readers means more readers, and more support, and more frequent posting. So we want outside readers. In general, we also want more stories with some fucking diversity, so I’m throwing my lot in with the biggest game in town, in the hopes that I can contribute to that in some small way.

You can still read every chapter absolutely free on the blog, and I have no intention of changing that ever. But if you want a more portable, searchable, note-able format, it’s available to you on Amazon. I’ve also made it lend-able, so you can lend it to your friends.

Even if you don’t intend to buy the book, I’d appreciate it if you could go and give me a favorable review so that more people can find it.

Thank you again for your constant encouragement and good will. You guys are awesome.

Jake and Jessica – Sweet Brothings – NSFW

Chapter 6 – Sweet Brothings – NSFW


Chapter 1 – The Annihilator (NSFW -Explicit sex)
Chapter 2 – The Annihilator is Dead
Chapter 3 – It Was a Good Day
Chapter 4 – The Jake Must Go On
Chapter 5 – A Daring Rescue


“What’s the deal with this Kesley thing?” Jake asked, passing the pipe.

Jess used the butt of the lighter to mash the remaining weed back in the bowl and smoked carefully before answering.

“What Kelsey thing?”

Jake scoffed. “Do I have to spell it out?”

“Jake, when a girl likes another girl, they do a very special hug…”

He rolled his eyes. “Jess, this is serious. She brought you flowers.”

She set the spent pipe on a coaster. No sense in ruining the coffee table. Her and Jake used to talk about girls together all the time, but that was different.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I always tell you about the girls I fuck.”

“I know.”

“You want me to stop?”

She thought about Amber, collapsed in a heap over the back of the couch, then imagined herself telling Jake about Kelsey in a similar situation, but ended up thinking instead about how Kelsey would sometimes cry when they only talked about fucking, how she so delicate in her arms that Jess fantasized about keeping her there in her safe bed and giving Kelsey pieces of her own heart to shore her up for the outside world, how she cherished every second of Kelsey’s pleasure and happiness like it was the very air she breathed.

She thought about how Jake took so much for granted. It was easy to brag about fucking girls until they came, it was easy to argue technique and talk positions, even to laugh together over sex tricks gone hilariously, sometimes horribly wrong. All the women they fucked and talked about fucking were so simple. Or at least they had seemed simple.

College was a blur of finding girls who wanted what they had to give and giving it to them. Every encounter had all the grace of a pizza delivery.

“It’s different.” She said instead.

“Is it the dick thing?” Jake asked. “You know that shit doesn’t bother me, we used to listen to Marco’s stories all the time in school.”

Marco’s stories about men had been the same as everybody else’s stories about women. Even when he was the one being pursued, he was just on the other end of the Pizza.

“You know I kind of fucked him once.”

Jake made an ick noise.

Jess raised an eyebrow.

Jake started to stammer a string of purposefully non-homophobic completely supportive phrases and sentences that only seemed to jam his foot further and further into his mouth with every word.

Jess kept a straight face for as long as she could, but then burst out laughing.

“Oh thank God” Jake said. “I thought you actually did it.”

“I did!” she said.

Jake sobered, looking both confused and worried until Jess relented and said “It was so weird, dude”

They collapsed into the couch in uncontrollable fits of laughter.

When he finally caught his breath Jake said “So…?”

It had been New Year’s, a few years after graduation, but a few years before transition, and Jessica had been drunk, but not that drunk. She’d run into Marco at a party that she’d gone to with another friend who immediately ditched her to get laid. Marco was in the same boat, and they ended up having an amazing time, so when he suggested they leave early to go get some food, she’d gone along. The conversation had continued at the restaurant, and when Marco invited her back to his house, she’d agreed happily, fairly certain in the knowledge of what would happen next.

“And then we kind of fucked. The end.” She teased.

“Oh come on!” Jake begged.

“It’s embarrassing!”

“I told you about the time I made out with Kevin Dolen!”

“To get his girlfriend to make out with you in exchange. That doesn’t count!”

Jake bit his lip, put on his serious face, and said “I told you about the girl in Manchester Hall.”

Jess had nearly forgotten. Early freshman year, Jake caught the eye of a Sophomore who lived in Manchester hall. The girl did things to him he now considered to be a part of a healthy adult sex life, but at the time his inexperience and naivety had caused him to confess shamefully to Jess in their dorm at night, to which his much more experienced and worldly friend had laughed, and pulled up about ten different websites as proof that what Jake had done was in no way abnormal. The story of the girl in Manchester hall was one that Jake didn’t tell very often.

Being a frightened and aroused eighteen year old under the tutelage of an educated and demanding older woman didn’t really fit the pizza delivery model. Jake had a point.

So, in the spirit of friendship, and in honor of Manchester Hall Girl, she went on.

When they got to Marco’s apartment, he’d been a perfect gentleman. He dimmed the lights, put on soft music, and sat on the couch with his arm around her, just talking and absently rubbing his hands up and down her forearm at first. In hindsight, she realized that it was his courtship, and not his body she’d responded to. Having doors opened for her, having a conversation partner that would absently touch her leg, or rest his arm at the small of her back was a slightly feminine feeling that she hadn’t experienced much of in the past.

She’d played the girl with various girlfriends, but that always felt so achingly artificial. Pretending to be something adjacent to who she was, but never quite getting there. This was different. Marco had her feeling like a woman in a romance movie. Pursued, desired. It was entrancing.

So when he leaned in and gently, almost cautiously kissed her lips, she’d felt soft and small, and all the other delicate female things she’d fantasized about for so long, and it thrilled her. As the kissing grew more intense, Marco reached under her shirt, rubbing slowly up and down her stomach, teasing the waistband of her jeans, but more often than not reaching up to play with her nipples, another thing her regular sex life had not had a lot of.

She’d melted under him then, laying pliant on the couch with her legs wrapped around the backs of his thighs. She sighed high and light when he’d dragged his tongue over the sensitive pulse point on her throat. At first, she’d been appalled by the girlishness of the sound she made, but Marco was either completely unaffected, or used to those results, so she gave herself permission to sigh, and to moan, and to beg for this attentions in whatever way she wanted.

She ran her hands up and down his back, digging in with her short nails when things became especially heated. When his hand strayed down to the button on her jeans, she dragged it back up under her shirt again.

“Play with my tits” she begged, followed by a volley of yeses and affirmative cries when he tweaked and pulled her nipples while sucking and biting her neck, and lips. Her world became the ends of her breasts, the hollow of her throat, and the weight of him on top of her while she drew more of him down to her, hands grabbing and pulling at his hips.

Jessica thought that she could kiss and wrestle under him all night long, feeling him press against her, feeling his large, warm hands on her skin. She moaned and writhed, drinking in the sensations of being so perfectly small and sweet in that moment.

“Hold on.” Marco said, reaching towards their conjoined crotches, she tensed, worried he’d ruin everything by grabbing for her dick. He noticed her apprehension and smirked, slowly sitting up and putting his hand in his own jeans, adjusting his straining cock down the side of his pant leg. “I was getting a little uncomfortable.”

He gestured to her own tenting fly, asking without asking if she wanted to do the same. Quickly, she reached into her pants and flipped her cock under her waistband, exposing the crown of the head, and flattening the sensitive underside against the back of her fly. She stroked two fingers along her length, caressing the skin with the long, petting motion she used when she was alone. She looked up at Marco, invitation and challenge, but also naked, vulnerable need.

He growled and started to grind his cock against hers, she rocked her pelvis up and imagined him fucking into her. She brought her legs higher and reached through them to resume her grip on his hips. In this newly exposed position, the tension built quickly. Marco’s relentless rhythm consumed her and she realized that she had been whimpering and moaning loudly, arching her back to give him access to her exposed throat and chest.

She imagined his thick, hard dick driving into her over and over again. She envisioned her body opening for him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and her arms around his back, pulling him closer, trying to articulate the primal, universal need welling up inside of her.

Above her, Marco practically cried “I can’t stop.” His voice was frantic. “I wish I was fucking you, Oh God.”

“You are.” She said, as his tempo reached a fever pitch. She rose up to meet him, wanting to feel like this for as long as humanly possible, watching Marco’s face as his eyes rolled wildly and he thrust blindly against her, into her.

The orgasm started in her toes, and it rolled up and around her body in wave after wave of mind-blowing pleasure. She screamed with joy and flew apart under him, ecstatic pieces of her conscious mind propelled themselves into orbit before floating blissfully back to earth. She became aware of herself a piece at a time, and realized a little bashfully that she’d been panting and unfocused for quite awhile.

Marco sat beside her on the couch, a gentle hand running up and down her arm and across her chest. “I’ve never seen anybody cum like that.”

She laughed, and looked down at her stomach, which was covered in uncomfortably cooling spunk, thankful that the shirt she’d have to wear home was scrunched up under her armpits, well outside the blast radius.

Marco, gentleman that he was, ran to get a damp cloth. “I came in my pants” he said, handing it to her. “I can’t remember the last time I did that. That was amazing.”

She wiped absently at her own cum. “Do you..?” She made an attempt to re-fold the cloth so he could use it if he wanted. He took it back, but made no motion to use it, despite the obvious wet spot at the front of his jeans.

“I’m going to go change.” His eyes traveled the length of her body. She’d already pulled her shirt back down around her torso. “God you look so hot.” He hesitated. “Don’t go anywhere.”

She laughed, but as she imagined how Marco was seeing her, a fucked-out frat bro, and not the seductive woman she imagined, a cold, sick dread began to pool where hot desire had washed her only minutes before. While Marco changed into basketball shorts, she took the time to arrange her spent dick more comfortably. This couldn’t happen again.

In the moment, it had been fabulous and intoxicating, but post-orgasmic reason had started to work its way back into her head, and she was nauseous with reality. Details of the encounter that hadn’t seemed that important at the time came flooding back to her. His dick, chief among them with hers a quick second. How could she have let it happen, how could she have been so short-sighted? Since childhood, she’d known two things: that she was meant to be a girl; and that she could never let anybody know this about her. Marco had made her feel more female than anyone else ever had, but now she felt very much like a gay man, despite the fact that she’d always thought of herself as a lesbian.

Revulsion rolled through her, followed by guilt. Marco hadn’t done anything wrong, but she had forgotten herself, and now she dreaded the awkward, uncomfortable interaction she was about to have with a man who was, first and foremost, a brother.

When he came back into the room, she was sitting on the couch with her head in her hands.

“Oh.” Was all he said.

“I’m sorry.” she said, voice muffled by her own hands. Sorry for lying, sorry for feeling this way, and sorry for not just being cool about it. Somewhere there was a guy who would not act like this. Not for the first time, she wished she could be him, and not herself. Anything but herself in this moment.

Marco slumped on the couch next to her. “What happened?”

She leaned back, mirroring his wrung-out posture. “I’m not…” she started to say, but Marco’s incredulous look made her change direction. She searched for some excuse or explanation. Something that would fix everything without ruining it again with what she considered to be her personal damage.

She’d only ever told this to her online friends. Online friends nobody knew she had. Online friends she had deleted at least twice before when it all got too terrifyingly real. She wracked her brain for anything they’d ever said about coming out as a lesbian to the gay bro you’d just had sloppy middle school sex with. Nothing presented itself.

She turned so her back was against the couch arm, a tense, terrible echo of her previous position. From this new vantage point, she was able to see Marco head to toe. She drew her knees into her chest, protecting her vital organs. Since college, she’d stopped lifting, while Marco had obviously kept it up. She couldn’t see Marco ever hurting her, but she felt so much safer as soon as she wrapped her arms around her legs.

She expected anger when she looked at him, but what she saw instead was worry and a mirror of her own guilt.

What did he have to feel bad about? She was the one who had lied.

“Don’t..” look like that? Feel like this? Ask me anything? She couldn’t finish that sentence.

Marco gestured in her general direction. “Did someone abuse you?”

This shocked her. “No! God, why would you say that?!”

“Maybe because you’re curled up into a ball right now and all we did was make out.” His tone was accusatory, hurt. Clearly he’d overcome his brief battle with feeling responsible.

She put her forehead on her knees and groaned. He had every right to be mad, she was a cock tease, and a mess. “I’m just going to go” she mumbled into her legs.

Marco sighed. “I’m sorry, that as a shitty thing to say. If you want to go, I understand, but I’m not kicking you out.”

“Oh, what a kind invitation.” Despite her derision, she didn’t move.

The silence stretched between them, tense and uncertain. Finally Marco asked “Was it something I did?”

“No”

“Then what…”

“Is wrong with me?” she raised her head, defensive.

He shrugged an affirmative, as if to say ‘well.. yeah.’ “Because I’ve hooked up with some straight guys in my day, but nobody did this.” He pointed at her. “You look like you’re afraid of me.”

She nodded. If only he knew, he would understand. Or would he? The years of their brotherhood paraded through her head. The shit they’d done in rush alone made up for a large chunk of secrets no one would ever tell.

“I’m not straight.”

“So is this a regular thing?”

“No.”

Marco circled his hand in the air between them, gesturing for her to continue. She didn’t want to.

She took a deep breath. “Why do you want to know?”

Marco stared

“Because if you just want to know if it’s your fault, or if you’re responsible for something, it’s not. I shouldn’t have come here, I’m sorry I freaked you out, I’m just weird. Really, I’m fine.”

Marco laughed. “You are not fine right now. There’s obviously something going on with you, you look really freaked out and all I care about is making sure you’re okay. Whatever else doesn’t matter.”

She took a deep breath. God, this was so stupid. “I’m a lesbian.”

“You’re what?”

She groaned and buried her face in her knees again. This was such a terrible idea, but the need to be understood propelled the words out of her. “I’m…” she murmured “I’m trans… a woman a-a” and then it felt like all the air was sucked out of the room. Her chest heaved as she tried to breath with no cooperation from her lungs. Her head spun, and she felt incredibly light, and suddenly cold.

Marco’s hands fluttered around her at first, but then he made a decision, and they resolutely grabbed her shoulders.

“You’re hyperventilating.” he said. “You need to sit up straight.”

He coached her to regulate her breathing, rubbing his hands up and down her arms, and looking directly into her eyes until she calmed enough to break into choking, hiccuping sobs, then he drew her into his arms and petted and soothed her until she lay spent against him for the second time that night.

Eventually, they talked softly to each other. It turned out he had a cousin who was trans. She’d come out when they were still in college, but he didn’t tell the frat about it because he was worried about how the guys would act.

Jessica confessed that she had always been a little jealous of him, being out since high school, then the conversation turned toward the good old days, talking shit about keggers and catching each other up on the bros that they’d seen most recently, even as they snuggled on the couch.

After a while they lay in silence. Eventually Marco said “I’ve never done it with a girl before.”

She giggled.

“It was really fun.” He said. “Do you think I might be bi?”

She laughed harder and buried her face in his chest, shaking her head back and forth, knowing that neither of them were.

When she finished her story, Jake was quiet for a moment, then he said “You told Marco before you told me?!”

“That’s what you got from that story? Seriously?”

“I thought we were bros, Jess.”

“And you wonder why I never tell you anything.”

Jake broke into a ‘just fucking with you’ smile. “I miss Marco.” he said.

“We keep in touch. You want me to see if he’s free to hang?”

“Yeah. Let’s see what your old flame is up to.”

Then Jessica groaned and flopped back against the couch.


Chapter 7 – Girl Talk


Bibliography

This chapter would not have been possible without original and biographical works from the trans and gender non-binary people that I would be remiss in not mentioning. I also owe a debt of gratitude to the trans community on Reddit, without them, this would be way shittier.

Bellwether, Mira. Fucking Transwomen. 0 vols. N.p.: CreateSpace, 2013. Print.

Taormino, Tristan. Take Me There: Trans and Genderqueer Erotica. Berkeley, CA: Cleis, 2011. Print.

Bornstein, Kate. A Queer and Pleasant Danger: The True Story of a Nice Jewish Boy Who Joins the Church of Scientology, and Leaves Twelve Years Later to Become the Lovely Lady She Is Today. N.p.: Beacon, 2012. Print.

And to my beta readers, your help was invaluable:

Zoe G. Miller

Sabrina McCoy

Jayna L-Ponder

Some readers may wish to remain anonymous.


JakeandJessica_vol1_minicover Dear Reader,

Due to your amazing support for Jake and Jessica, I have been able to publish Volume 1 on Amazon. Chapters 1-6 are available for $1.49.

At that price, I make about $0.50 a book. I’ve set the price more than a dollar lower than Amazon suggested because I want the story to stay as accessible as possible in all its formats.

You can still read the entire story absolutely free on the blog, and I have no intention of changing that ever. But if you want a more portable, searchable, note-able format, it’s available to you on Amazon. I’ve also made it lend-able, so you can lend it to your friends.

Even if you don’t intend to buy the book, I’d appreciate it if you could go and give me a favorable review so that more people can find it.

Thank you again for your constant encouragement and good will. You guys are awesome.

Because Rich People Think Jail is Fun

This is one of those posts I’ll write but not publish for six months. Because, of course, none of this actually happened and it is totally, completely fiction.

This summer was kind of a shit storm. I had some major late and non-payers in July, and I was totally desperate; I went to some pretty unthinkable ends to make money. Ny which i mean that I signed up with a temp company, and I got a job doing telephone fund-raising for an extremely large, very popular non-profit.

The deal was this: we’d call local business leaders and pretend to arrest them, after which they would become our prisoners, and, if they agreed, raise bail from their friends and fellow business leaders in the community in order to cure the horrible, terrible disease we were so valiantly fighting.

Plus, a super-fun jail-themed lunch where the majority rich, majority white participants would laugh and joke and pretend like the prison industrial complex isn’t even a real thing. LOL!

Jail isn’t a fun charity lunch theme to the several hundred-thousand people incarcerated at this very second in America. Jail isn’t a adorable fund-raiser for the mothers that have to tell their children every fucking day not to provoke the police, not to invite their suspicion, and not to assume their own rightly-held presumption of innocence because of the color of their skin, the income of their household, or the expression of their gender. A fact that multiple irate people pointed out to me multiple times a day when I called them asking if they wanted to play jail for charity. Not all business owners are totally tone-deaf to the realities facing people of color.

Which, it seems, is a population that this particular extremely large, extremely popular non-profit were not interested in at all. I couldn’t help but notice the pictures of the charity cases they had all over the walls were 100% white. An experience that actually had me Googling the phrase “do black people get muscular dystrophy?” Which, it turns out they do. In fact, black patients tend not to live as long as white patients, possibly because of a lack of access for people of color . Go figure. I thought there were charities for that sort of thing.

I ended up getting fired after the first week for saying the F word. Because raising money from lacking-perspective rich people to help, what looks like exclusively white people, with a disease that seems to have disproportionately negative effects on black people isn’t nearly as satisfying if you’re also not allowed to curse. God fucking forbid.

Jake and Jessica and Transgender Sex

Jake and Jessica fans may want to pay special attention to this rant, although it may be of interest to any and all of you, if I know you like I do. And I think I do.

I’m bringing this to you, the reader, since you’ve been a part of the creation of Jake and Jessica from the beginning of the series when I posted the very first poll over a year ago. Since then, I’ve really liked writing the chapters, and I want to write more, but something has been rolling around in my head since I started to get more into their story: the sex.

Chapter one starts out with some pretty explicit sex, which I loved writing, and I was super glad for the ones that said you enjoyed reading it. My hang up is that I want to continue in that style, keeping the sex as explicit as it was the first time, but I also don’t want it to seem like I’m writing trans porn. Then again, If I write about my cis characters fucking, why wouldn’t I write about my trans characters fucking? And doesn’t the Internet need more trans people being portrayed with normal lives and loves and all that shit?

At this point, I’m pretty well decided that if Jake and Jessica continues, it will have explicit sex all around. But I want to write this to get the logical process out, for my own brain, but also for the record. In case it turns out to be a huge mistake.

I didn’t think twice about having my black main character fuck a white redhead in the first chapter because that’s not titillating in and of itself. It may have been once, and it probably could be to some people, or if it were written with more emphasis on race, but I wrote it like two equal people engaging in fulfilling sex, which is how I intend to write all the sex in Jake and Jessica.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not fully conscious of how trans people, women especially, are so frequently the object of sexual fetishizaion. Far be it from me to admonish a good kink now and again, but that shouldn’t be the whole of the literature on sexually active transgender people. Not that I’m some great pioneer here, people have been creating respectful media about queer sex for decades. And when I say respectful, I of course mean politically. The sex itself runs the gamut from loving wives to toilet slaves, as sex will do.

I want the sex in my stories to be arousing, but for the reasons that all good sex is arousing: the emotional tension, the physical ecstasy that transcends fetishistic objectification. You know, the squishy bits.

And I want the stories themselves to be character driven and interesting, and I want sex to be a part of them because I’m pretty tired of reading books that have the action and stress and wonder and joy of life, and yet somehow nobody’s fucking, or if they are it’s the one emotion the writer fails to convey. Not that I read that much besides business books and erotica these days. But that’s a blog for another day.

Of course all this could be for naught. There is always the possibility that I never write about these people again, and this means absolutely nothing. Although now I feel obligated to at least get to the first sex scene.

Space Princess – Chapter 3

Chapter 1 – Love’s Luther’s Lost
Chapter 2 – Chins up


Why I Stabbed that Guy

“Everybody’s a critic” I told Raffi once I’d cleared the floor.

“Don’t thank me or anything.” He affected a sulk as he followed me in the general direction of the medical ward.

“Raff,” I said “I was the one who told you to report me missing.”

“And I agreed to do it, and you should at least thank me for being complicit in your deceit.”

“That wasn’t deceit” I said “It was absolutely the truth. SP General has a wide-on for the Formizos. Everybody knows it.”

His fans whirred and his servos clicked angrily as he processed my full intent behind having him follow the rules for once and report my extended lunch. “Well, it’s wrong!”

“I agree” I said with mock sincerity. “A woman her age should be more discriminating. But I’m not one to judge.”

He turned on his axle and headed to the infirmary at top speed without responding.

I followed at a slower pace. This was the kind of questioning I’d get more mileage out of while the painkillers were wearing off. I also needed to think this thing through. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t get off with just a talking to if I stabbed him again.

When I showed up to the space-port to find the Hot Dog on Your Stick closed for “lunch,” the busiest time of the day for sex work, I knew she’d been tipped off. I couldn’t wait for back-up, not while the trail was still hot. And who knew what would be repeated to the information black market before we could get a lid on everything.

The door was locked, so I took stock of my surroundings. The security system was nothing, I disengaged it with a common subroutine, but the damn bell over the lintel would give me away as soon as I tried to come in. I reached in my hair and withdrew my panomnitool. I whispered “entry” and it punched a Princess-sized hole in the display window, complete with plenty of room for my impressive puff of curls. I noted this last development with pleased surprise. So Luther had remembered to modify my tool after all.

Through the hole I could hear frantic scrabbling in the office at the back of the shop. With the system off and the glass vaporized instantly, my quarry had no idea I was on his tail. Not that he was keeping an ear out, or anything. The man in question was practically yelling a steady stream of curse words in a minimum of twelve languages, some of which my translator could only interpret literally. At least one dialect had very strong feelings about fish penis.

Folders were scattered all over the office. One wall had been stocked all the way across with file cabinets. The contents of the room alone could send my quarry to a maximum security penal colony for at least fifty years. Paper stink clung to every surface. This rat’d been in business a long time.

Criminals like old fashioned pen and paper docs because they’re the only sure way to keep records off the Uninet. But tree pulp paper had been banned in the Conservation Wars, and an ounce of the stuff could get you six months easy. Poundage like this would mean extra penalties for attempt to distribute. This guy was in trouble. He knew it, and I knew it.

It didn’t take long for me to press the barrel of the panomnitool to the back of his head. He froze, mid-fish penis.

“Back away from the pulp, pimp.” My tone was cold, and my hand was steady. This wasn’t my first paper party.

As soon as I got his hands together, I restrained them in front of his chest, checking quickly for extra limbs or prehensile implants. As a Princess alone, it was a dangerous balance between not letting him go for a second, and being thorough enough to prevent anything that might get the jump on me. I’d taken a thrashing from a guy with an aftermarket piranha-tail my first month on the job. That was definitely not going to happen again.

All he said was “how’d you find me, spink?”

The derogatory term for our order rolled off me. I’m not easily rattled by a little foul language. He should have already known that, the fish penis eater. “Lucky guess.” I answered, while signaling for backup on my panom-tool.

That’s when I’d told him not to move. I distinctly remember saying “I’ll stab you.” Alone with him and hundreds of pounds of pulp, I knew no Internal Affairs agent would dare touch my case. The man clearly had no regard for the very planet he stood on. He was dangerous, mad, hopped up on tree corpse.

So, when he leaned forward with a leer and asked me if I kept the knife in my tits, I unsheathed the knife I keep in my tits and I stabbed him with it. He crumpled to the floor and cried.

“Don’t be such a bitch.” I said “I didn’t even collapse your lung.”

Unfortunately, I had collapsed his lung. One of the problematic side effects of working on a well-trafficked planet in such a technologically advanced age is that sometimes it’s unclear who keeps what organs where. How could I have known he’d had his scales bonded in order to pass for human? Consider it an internalized species-ism tax.

Which is why is was in the medical ward.

I still walked slowly, trying to formulate my case against him. He had been posing as the manager of the Hot Dog on Your Stick, selling the information the hookers got out of their high level clients on the black market. When I broke into his shop, he’d been frantically searching for one file, rather than destroying both the evidence of his paper use, and the secrets he’d clearly already sold or was at least about to sell. He’d had more than a gig of sensitive information in those things. All he’d have had to do was to set a strategically placed fire, and all traces of his involvement would have gone up in smoke. Judging by the contents of the supply closet, that was definitely the intended next move.

But what was so important about the file that cost him his freedom, and could still cost him his life if any of what he was selling got back to it’s various agencies? And, where was the Manticarn I’d been tasked with tracking down? Had she bailed, had he killed her? Who was the bigger fish, pimp or prostitute?

All these things I resolved to figure out as I closed in on his hospital bed.

Space Princess Diaries – Chapter 2

I’m thinking the way this will work is that every time I want the hero to do something other than what they do in a game/book/tv show, etc., I’m just going to write a Space Princess story where they do what I want. Because I can.



Chapter 1 – Love’s Luther’s Lost


Chins Up

Sweat gleamed on the Space Princess General’s second chin. Just last week Raffi and the other techs were speculating as to whether or not she’d had it done while on leave. The consensus seemed to be that her sudden growth had been quite unlikely to be naturally occurring. Unless it was a tumor, which was also unlikely.

It looked uncomfortable, and it was way out of proportion with the rest of her face. I wondered if it felt like a real chin. My fingers twitched against each other in my lap. With her original chin so nearby, it seems like it might lead one to comparison. But it was the earth fashion to have two chins and a slim neck, owing to a popular new song that expressed a passing preference for the anomaly.

Chin augmentation aside, I understood the General was upset, but her reasoning was as much a mystery as her sudden chin growth.

“You stabbed a civilian” she said again, as if that would make it more clear.

“I told him not to move” I answered. “And he’s not a civilian, he’s a suspect. He’s in custody as we speak.”

“HE’S IN THE MEDICAL WARD BECAUSE YOU STABBED HIM.” She punctuated this by slamming her hand on he desk. Her chins shook, and I strained to see if the new one shook properly. I wondered if it was still swollen from surgery.

“Space Princess General, I told him not to move, or I would stab him. He made a crack about my breasts, and so I stabbed him. It’s not like he didn’t see it coming.”

Her eyebrow rose.

“Talking is moving” I said, before she could object.

“You should not have told him you would stab him in the first place.”

I started to object, but she shut me up with a sharp “let me finish, God Damnit.”

“You weren’t even supposed to be talking to him, you were supposed to be at Hot Dog on Your Stick arresting the God damned Mantacarn, her head is a foot fucking tall and glows bright cunting green…”

“Eight inches tall” I said, adding a quick “ma’am” in response to her look of rage.

“HEAD HEIGHT” she shouted “IS NOT THE POINT AND YOU KNOW IT. You let the suspect get away.”

“With all due respect” I began…

Suddenly, but calmly, she raised her hand, an uncharacteristically polite-looking request for silence. Her words were curt.

“You had one job, and that was to bring me the shitting Mantacarn who’s been selling state secrets to every thug in the galaxy from the back of a space-port fuck booth, and instead you bring me some asshole with a hole in his chest. Do you think that this is a fair substitute for my perp?”

Well, that’s a trick question.

“And before you answer me, Space Princess” she enunciated my title with disgust “Please be aware that your AssisTech reported you missing for an hour and a half on the day of the bust. What were you possibly doing that was so important that state fucking secrets could wait?”

I crossed my arms and sat forward in my chair.

“This is bullshit, General, and you know it. I’m the only Space Princess on Earth to get within a mile of this operation, and you’re giving me shit for stabbing her pimp instead of her?! That’s one degree of separation. The next blood on my knife will be Manticorn green. I can see it as plainly as the chin on your face!”

I’d said it before I could stop myself. I slumped back again.

But the General had been caught in her own bluster. She knew I was right, I could see it in her eyes. Which she promptly covered with her hands as she slowly rubbed her forehead.

“And the hour and a half?” she sighed?

“Formizo Enforcing, ma’am. I had a… little problem. The boys helped me with it.”

She removed her hands, the hint of a smile played on her lips. “Those boys are great at what they do.” She spoke with significance, but then she seemed to lose steam. All the fury had gone out of her as easily as it had come.

She looked down at her desk and brought one hand back up to rub at the space between her eyes. “Get something out of the pimp.”

I got up and turned to go.

“And for Chrissakes, when you catch the Manticorn, don’t fucking stab her. We need her alive to tell us what she sold and to whom.”

“I will do my best” and then added “ma’am” as I walked out the door.


Chapter 3 – Why I Stabbed that Guy

Jake and Jessica – A Daring Rescue

Jake and Jessica Chapter 5

Chapter 1 – The Annihilator (NSFW -Explicit sex)
Chapter 2 – The Annihilator is Dead
Chapter 3 – It Was a Good Day
Chapter 4 – The Jake Must Go On


“Basil!”

Brandon was hanging out the back passenger side window of Jake’s Accord, softly calling for his cat, and shaking an open package of treats. They had the lights off, but on their third trip around the block, even Brandon was starting to give up hope.

“Guys,” Jessica said. “This may be a lost cause.”

“One more time” Jake said.

Jess sighed, but sat back in her seat and zipped up her hoodie. Driving around at night with all the windows down in winter, even in LA, was not exactly what she’d had in mind for her evening.

“I forgot to ask earlier” Jake said, as they moved to round the block again. “What’s up with your girl, she color blind or something?”

“Yeah.” Jess said.

“Oh. That makes sense.”

After that, they sat in relative silence with Brandon calling and treat-shaking in the back seat. Once they were back in front of Brandon’s darkened house, Jake let the car idle, hoping to get inspiration for their next move. It killed him to think about turning back. He wanted to do this for his new friend, for the injustice of having everything ripped away from him, even his God-damned cat, but he also wanted to do it for The Annihilator. In memory of him, and as a kind of pay-back for not being there on his last night.

Then Brandon said “I hear meowing.”

All three of them strained to listen. Even Jessica was re-engaged.

“I heard it too” Jess said.

“Now I hear it” Jake said.

“I think it’s coming from inside the house.” Brandon said.

They all looked at each other. B&E wasn’t part of the deal.

“What if she can’t get out?” Brandon said.

Jessica looked at Jake.

Jake looked from Brandon to Jessica.

“Brandon” Jessica said. “You know you’re a good friend. And I’d do anything for you…”

“But I’m not sure I’m really willing to test the racial tolerance of the LAPD tonight.” Jake finished her thought.

Brandon sighed and looked down at the cat treats he now clutched in both hands. “Do you think you could keep the car running? It’s my parents house, but Basil is my cat. Her license is in my name. My old name, but I haven’t gotten my driver’s license changed yet. If the cops come, I’ll just dyke it up. Jess, you’re always saying I need to stand up to them.”

Jake looked at Jessica. Jessica started to chew on her cuticle, but she nodded a small ascent. There was not as much risk involved in staying in the car.

“Okay.” Jake said. “We won’t leave you, but you better hurry.”

Brandon nodded and got out.

Jessica was still chewing her cuticle as she watched him run towards the house. She put her hands in her lap. “I am always telling him to stand up to those assholes. Did you know they put an obituary for their “daughter” in the church paper? They sent it to him. Just so he knew.”

Jake was at a loss. He tried to think of a scenario where his parents would do something like that to him.

His family had gone to church every Sunday growing up, but it wasn’t like that. He could name gay deacons going back decades, and everybody knew the choir director and the organ player were lovers. He always thought they took separate cars to service because they were old guys. They had old ideas. He’d mentioned them in a conversation with his mother once, and she’d dismissed it as ‘gossip.’

Deciding to tuck that examination of his own family and community away for another time, he whispered a small “shit” into the dark of the car. “That’s some shit.” he clarified.

“Yeah.” Jess said. Her own mom, a Buddhist actress was only disappointed Jess didn’t feel the need to ‘be prettier’ as she’d put it.

Brandon came running back across the small front yard, clutching something in his jacket. “They blocked the cat door” He said as he slid into the back seat, one hand cradling a stunning Siamese as she yowled throatily.

Brandon fed her treats, and her yowls turned to purrs of an almost equal volume.

“That’s some set of lungs.” Jake said, pulling the car away from the curb.

Basil purred the whole way back to Jess’s house, where Brandon transferred her into his car. He hugged Jess goodbye, and cleared his throat when he turned to Jake. He floundered, trying to think of something to accurately express his gratitude without making a scene. Lacking words, he spread his arms, as if they would somehow illustrate the enormity of his emotion.

Jake turned the gesture into a hug with practiced, cool-guy grace. “It’s cool, man, it was good for me too” he said, patting Brandon’s back before pushing him gently away.

Brandon nodded. “Well, see you later.” He said as he got in his car, transferring a curious Basil to the passenger seat.

“Do you think he even has to go to the pet store, or does he have everything already in his apartment, just waiting for this day?” Jess asked as she watched his taillights disappear around a corner.

“Oh, shit.” Jake answered. “I should have offered him The Annihilator’s old stuff. I don’t think I can throw it away.”

“You threw him away, didn’t you?” Jess said.

“Yeah, but what am I going to do, put him in the freezer so I can take him out and pet him when I’m sad?”

“Why not?”

“What if I mistake a roast for my dead cat one day, and you end up eating the wrong kind of pussy?” Jake asked.

“Oh that is gross” Jess covered her face and groaned into her hands.

Jake’s phone beeped. It was from Amber, and it was dirty. He showed the message to Jess with an air of triumph.

“Two times in two days. Shit, you’re the master.” She said.

With a casual hand, Jake pointed to his crotch. “Girls love this dick.”

“Not all girls” Jess raised an eyebrow.

“Straight girls love this dick.” Jake corrected.

“Uh huh. So you goin’ over?” Jess asked

“I actually feel pretty tired.” Jake said. “But I don’t want to go home. It’ll feel… too empty.”

“Wanna watch Top Gun?” Jess asked

“Yeah.” Jake said. “Lemme just text Amber a rain check.”

“A rain check on your dick.” Jess laughed.

“I might as well start a template” Jake said, heading back to Jess’s apartment.


Chapter 6 – Sweet Brothings (NSFW -Explicit sex)
Chapter 7 – Girl Talk



JakeandJessica_vol1_minicover Dear Reader,

Due to your amazing support for Jake and Jessica, I have been able to publish Volume 1 on Amazon. Chapters 1-6 are available for $1.49.

At that price, I make about $0.50 a book. I’ve set the price more than a dollar lower than Amazon suggested because I want the story to stay as accessible as possible in all its formats.

You can still read the entire story absolutely free on the blog, and I have no intention of changing that ever. But if you want a more portable, searchable, note-able format, it’s available to you on Amazon. I’ve also made it lend-able, so you can lend it to your friends.

Even if you don’t intend to buy the book, I’d appreciate it if you could go and give me a favorable review so that more people can find it.

Thank you again for your constant encouragement and good will. You guys are awesome.

Jake and Jessica – The Jake Must Go On

So, you guys remember that Jake and Jessica poll I put up in… oh… October?

Well, I completely forgot about it. Sorry.

But I’m back. All settled, and ready to make another story adventure about Jake and his gal pal Jessica. You guys voted, 40% for a victory dance, and 40% for fresh cut flowers. With a sad, and straggling 20%, a flashback will not be happening in Chapter 4.

I know it’s been a long time, so please find links to the previous chapters below:

Chapter 1 – The Annihilator (NSFW -Explicit sex)
Chapter 2 – The Annihilator is Dead
Chapter 3 – It Was a Good Day


Chapter 4 – The Jake Must Go On

It wasn’t hard to figure out which of the Ladies was Kelsey. While the other ladies, and honorary ladies, as they referred to the men in the group, showed up with various foods and drinks, Kelsey brought fresh cut flowers. Yellow roses with a blue ribbon.

“Laker colors.” She explained

Jake waited for Jessica to correct her. Everyone in LA knows Laker colors are yellow and purple.

“They’re beautiful” Jessica said as she took the flowers from Kelsey. “Let’s go into the kitchen and put these in some water.”

As she lead Kelsey away, Jes shot an accusing look back at Jake. He lifted his hands in a gesture if innocence and surrender. If the chick didn’t know what color the Laker colors were, he wasn’t going to make her feel bad about it. Or at least he wasn’t now that Jessica had admonished him not to.

Jake had heard about the Ladies’ Auxiliary, but he’d never met any of them. They spun around him in a dizzying rainbow, putting out food, setting up the TV, chatting with him and with each other.

“This is Jake” Jessica had told them all. “His cat died today, is it cool if he hangs out?”

The majority of the ladies had made sad, soft sounds about The Annihilator, giving their condolences, and asking him questions. Several of them shared their own cat stories.

A fine-boned boy, eye-to-eye with Jake, but at least 50 pounds lighter than him, put his hand on Jake’s forearm. “My parents won’t let me see my cat since I came out.” He dropped his head. “I’m always afraid something will happen to her, you know, while I’m gone.”

Guilt started to tighten his chest, but then a hot rush of secondary outrage shot through him. Yeah, Annihilator had died alone, but every day up until that point, he’d been loved, he’d been treated well, and he knew he had a good friend in Jake. The idea that this kid and his cat didn’t get the same because, of what? Simple bigotry? It boiled his blood.

“That’s not fair” He said.

The kid looked up, almost amused at the belligerence in his statement. “It’s okay. They take care of her.”

“You can’t have cats at your apartment?” Jake asked.

“Actually, I got an apartment that allows cats in case they gave her back.” He looked around the room. “It’s kind of stupid. They don’t even talk to me.”

Jake was mad, he was worse than mad, he was reckless. “We should take her back.”

The boy laughed. “I have thought about it. With my luck, I’d get caught, end up misgendered in the news, correctly gendered in lock-up, and pregnant with Bubba’s baby inside a week.” He made an ick face.

Jake chuckled, but his anger hadn’t fallen away. “Is she an indoor/outdoor cat?”

“She might be now. I know my dad was always bitching about how cats should ‘shit outside, like men.'” He paused. “Which probably gives you a more detailed picture of my childhood than you needed.”

“I know you’re trying to change the subject” Jake said “I’m not going to let you.” The kid smirked, and Jake felt bolstered enough to continue. “If we happen to drive by the house with cat treats and her favorite person in the car, that’s not theft. That’s just a cat making a choice.” He pointed at the kid and waggled his eyebrows in a ‘waddya think?’ gesture.

“GAME’S STARTING” yelled Brenda. “All you bitches, just shut the hell up.”

Jake pointed to himself, then to the guy, who’s name he realized he’d never learned, then back to himself again and mouthed the word ‘LATER’ as they took their seats. In response, his possible future accomplice bowed his head.

Jes was right. Brenda was a die-hard Lakers fan. While Jake spent the first minutes looking at Kelsey, waiting for her to realize her mistake with the Laker colors, and getting more and more confused when she didn’t, Brenda shouted, yelled, and sometimes jumped up and down for every basket, near-basket, and miss. When the team finally won, she jumped off the couch and strutted back and forth in front of the TV shaking her hands and waving her arms in what Jake could only guess was a practiced victory dance. Someone threw popcorn, and Brenda tried, failed, then succeeded to catch some in her mouth. She opened her jaws and displayed the piece she’d swiped as others tried to score a free throw into her open mouth.

He was laughing. This was the most fun he’d had in months. The kind of fun he missed about hanging out with Jessica. She’s always been the rhythm of a party. She could get other people to perform by building their confidence and drawing them out, in ways that tended to come off as overbearing when Jake tried them. It’s what had made her such a good wing-man. Sitting in her living room, thinking back on their college days, Jake wondered if she did this to take the focus off herself. If getting other people to be the center of attention was her way of hiding.

Across the room, Jes and Kelsey were deep in conversation. Their bodies were turned towards each other and Kelsey’s leg was flung casually over Jes’s knee. Jake was contemplating the scene when the skinny boy from earlier sat down next to him.

“Were you being serious earlier?” He said. “About the cat, I mean.”

Jake thought. He wasn’t into crime, or activism. Until Jessica, he probably had never cared about a cause in his life. His dad was big into what he called “the struggle,” but to Jake, it always looked too much like complaining. Maybe it was the grief talking, maybe it was the desperate hope in the kid’s eyes when he’d talked about her, but the outrage Jake felt for the guy was palpable.

“Yeah.” He said. “That’s really fucked up. Nobody should have to live without their cat if they don’t have to.”

The kid smiled, brought his fingers to his lips, and then suddenly removed them, reaching out to Jake.

“I forgot to tell you my name. It’s Brandon”

Jake gave his own name as they shook hands. “So, what are you doing after this?”

“Actually,” Brandon said “My parents are probably at church for the next two hours at least.”

“I’ll get Jessica.” Jake said.


Chapter 5 – A Daring Rescue
Chapter 6 – Sweet Brothings (NSFW -Explicit sex)
Chapter 7 – Girl Talk


JakeandJessica_vol1_minicover Dear Reader,

Due to your amazing support for Jake and Jessica, I have been able to publish Volume 1 on Amazon. Chapters 1-6 are available for $1.49.

At that price, I make about $0.50 a book. I’ve set the price more than a dollar lower than Amazon suggested because I want the story to stay as accessible as possible in all its formats.

You can still read the entire story absolutely free on the blog, and I have no intention of changing that ever. But if you want a more portable, searchable, note-able format, it’s available to you on Amazon. I’ve also made it lend-able, so you can lend it to your friends.

Even if you don’t intend to buy the book, I’d appreciate it if you could go and give me a favorable review so that more people can find it.

Thank you again for your constant encouragement and good will. You guys are awesome.

Space Princess Diaries – Chapter 1

Friday I promised a story where the lady protagonist is the one who fucks the entire population of the book while the male love interest stays celibate, pining away for his lost love, waiting for her to come to her senses. I decided to make my female protagonist as much like the stereotypical pig-headed arrogant misogynists that serve as male love interests in a lot of books with strong female leads.

You guys voted for it to be set in the future, which is good, because I already started writing it set in the future, and I had a lot of fun with this one.


Love’s Luther’s Lost


afro girl – BlackBookTWO013-02 by ~vkonzack on deviantART

I am Clarity Kell Jackson, only daughter of the Fifth House of LaBeija, Holder of the Sacred Blades of of Barbagnell, and Heir to the Legendary Mother of the House of LaBeija.

If we were on LaBeija, the appropriate answer to that introduction would be “All hail our beautiful mother.” But since we’re on Earth, it’s not necessary.

Like the majority of Space Princess Warriors, I have been sent here on a diplomatic mission of peace. But I’m also here to make my mark. As the sole heir to The Legendary Mother herself, I have a lot to live up to before the people will accept me as their new Mother. I must return home with an impressive resume and a thirst for justice. Not to mention an equally impressive partner to call my consort. Being so far away from other, more trafficked systems, the people of LaBeija consider genetic diversity our most valuable import.

Which means I must find a consort who represents the most diverse sample of genetic material I possibly can. And I have. In the pursuit of justice, I found and lost, the perfect consort. Fortunately, he’s only missing in a spiritual sense. In the physical sense, he’s standing three feet away from me, being stubborn and pig-headed and refusing to see reason. As usual.

“Out all night again, Space Princess Jackson?” Luther asked.

He knows perfectly well I’ve been out all night. I’m trying desperately to find someone in even the same universe as his impressive genetic make-up. And failing badly.

“That’s none of your concern.” I answered. “Besides, you have a new girlfriend, as I recall.”

“The Celestial Light Empress is not girl. She is the essence of womanhood here to reclaim the realm. And she is not my friend. She is my eternal spouse to whom I am bound both body and soul.”

I leaned down, closer to his eye level. “Can’t we worship her together?”

Luther snorted and turned away. “Joke all you want, Kell, I’ve found my true calling. It’s only bittersweet because you’re still so lost.”

I snatched my lab results off the table and sashayed away. What living, breathing, fallible woman could compete with a Goddess? An Empress Goddess at that. I’m just a lowly Princess from a backwater system at the far end of the territories. I’d offered Luther a place by my side as Consort. I told him that every pleasure of LaBeija would be his. Our beautiful gardens, delicious foods, every sight and feature of our system, all at his command. I even extended an invitation to take equal part with me in the royal harem, a score of the most skilled lovers LaBeija had to offer. Being from Earth, I understood that his people have a sharing culture. I thought he would appreciate my consideration.

But he refused me, said I don’t understand him. I tried to point out that we would have years of togetherness as Queen and Consort to understand one another. Besides, why would I need to understand my Consort? The Queen is the decision maker. A consorts contributions are genetic, not tactical. This upset him even more, and now he refuses to return to LaBeija with me. What’s worse, he refuses to have sex with me anymore. He even refused to provide a sample for the Clonemaster General to use in our breeding force. The man is completely unreasonable.

Power & Equality

When I returned to my desk I dropped the lab results into the data basket on my terminal for compiling and decided that I’d be taking a long lunch. I needed to clear my head, and I had just the thing.

Or things.

On my way out the door, I passed my AssisTech Raffi. “Don’t wait up, I’m meeting the Formizo twins for drinks.” I said, ignoring his bitter expression. Poor beautiful Raffi. He couldn’t understand. A woman has needs.

Formizo Enforcing was a small security firm down the street from Space Princess Warrior headquarters. We contracted with them on some of the bigger jobs in the system, and most of the Space Princesses had at least a friendly relationship with the boys. Domino and Cosimo were fraternal twins, but they always came as a pair. D was tall and dark with a wide expanse of hairy chest and biceps the size of pony kegs. I knew from experience that he could lift 6 feet of woman into the air above his head with a single, powerful arm, and maintain the hold for at least 20 minutes. C, on the other hand was fine boned and delicate. He must have been borne without tendons, because the man was basically half cat. I was going to get Luther out of my head by force, and Formizo Enforcing was exactly the kind of muscle I needed.

When I got to their office, the boys were sitting at their desks, ties already untied and hanging around their necks. After the door announced my arrival, Domino leaned back in his chair to take me in.

“We ordered a pizza.” he said.

“Should get here in an hour.” Cosimo added.

“I see you boys are well prepared.” I answered, reaching for zipper on my standard issue catsuit.

An hour and a half later, I was back from lunch. Freshly fucked, fueled, and feeling good. Raffi was quite upset.

“Space Princess Jackson, you’re thirty minutes late. Your data finished compiling ten minutes after you left. Your progress in this case has been delayed while you attended to personal business during work hours.”

“Raffi,” I said “My body doesn’t run off the Earth’s gravometric weave like yours does. I need sex and pizza to keep going. I’m not a machine. Speaking of, could I get some coffee?” I looked at the data on my terminal. “This is going to take a while.”

As Raffi dejectedly whizzed off to get my coffee, I hit the display button, and a clear picture of our perpetrator blinked onto my holomat. Her genetic markers showed that she was a Mantacarn, and that she likely had an 8 inch lift to her skull that, on Mantac, would be polished to a high gloss in order for people to better see the magnificent green brain inside. Brain size is very important to the people of Mantac, even though it has no relationship to real world skills. Mantacarns like big brains, and I can’t lie, Ms. Perpetrator had a big ‘un, as the earthlings say.

Since she was hiding here, she likely had to cover her assets. I swiped the holomat through a series of different disguises. A beehive hairdo, popular with the young people of the Bouvier District, a Blessed Order of the Black Santa wimple, even my own impressively poofy, bouncy, but structurally stable natural failed to cover her expansive head height.

I tapped my golden nail against a brilliant white front tooth. At eight inches, her head was one of the largest I’d ever seen. It was impossible for Mantacarns to alter their head size, which is one of the reasons it was such a sought after trait. Eventually, I realized the coffee Raffi got me was going cold at my elbow. I took a long gulp.

“Raf,” I said “I need a list of every earth hairstyle or headwear item taller than eight inches.”

As the list populated my display, I saw exactly what I’d been looking for: The ten inch tall penis hat of the Hot Dog on Your Stick uniform.

“Please confirm that there is a Hot Dog on Your Stick at the Transporter Terminal where we last saw our Mantacarn.”

“There is.” Raffi said.

What better place to trade international secrets than in the private fuck booths of the Hot Dog on Your Stick? And inside the Terminal, she could catch an agent on a layover from anywhere to anywhere else in the universe. Maybe there was something to the cranium size myth after all.

As we prepped for the bust, I glanced down the hall to Luther’s lab and desperately wished that everything in my life was as easy as fighting crime.


Lady Afro by ~topher00001 on deviantART

Will Space Princess Jackson get her Mantacarn?
Will Luther come to his senses?
Will Raffi finally get that kitten he’s always wanted?

Find out next time on Space Princess Diaries!!
Same Space Princess Time, Same Space Princess Channel.


Chapter 2 – Chins up
Chapter 3 – Why I Stabbed that Guy