Short story writer. Fantasy, sci-fi, transgressive. I lack a filter but try to make stuff fun.
An Alien's Guide to Handjobs
Here's Chapter One if you haven't read it... Chapter Two: One Bottle of Elementium Coming Right up Sarah woke in horror. At twenty-four years old, she still remembered a college hazing. This reminded her of that torment, but felt crueller. Someone had stripped her clothes off— even her panties; and they’d shackled her to a table, legs and arms spread. Desperate for help, her head throbbed with the world’s worst migraine. Clasping and unclasping her hands, she tried to clear it. Where was that guy, Tony? What the hell happened? Had he kidnapped her? Was this all a hallucination? And who had shaved all her hair off?
Here's Chapter One Chapter Two: What do you do for Money, Honey? No matter a population’s size, location, or cultural norms, a seedy subset of humanity always establishes itself within. For the Delta V space station, that subset had taken hold within a section known as “Bangkok”. Decades ago, the station council admitted they couldn’t clean the place up, so they tolerated the illicit activity— to a degree.
The Genesis Perversion
Chapter One is here.. Chapter Two: Assume the Position. Jake’s hands closed around thin air. Cindy’s neck wasn’t there anymore. His plan foiled; he felt the front zipper of his jumpsuit pulled down. Cooler air wafted against his chest. Then, most baffling of all, his dick was in a firm grip.
The Dream Factory
The Dream Factory “For God’s sake, can nobody control that perverted little pipsqueak?” the Grim Reaper yelled from his dressing room in the dream factory. He’d been trying to apply “Crimson Soul” lipstick for the last five minutes, but progress was ponderous due to his lack of lips.
The leggy blonde’s white dress billowed around her. For a moment her clasped hands held it down, revealing only pale skinny legs. But her fingers loosened, and hands fell limply away to the sides. Unimpeded, the dress flew up and covered her face, offering protection from any embarrassment that full frontal exposure might cause. Below, a dark triangle of pubic hair contrasted starkly with lily-white skin.
Confessions of a Barfly
When you have less than a day to live, moments become precious. The idiot blocking my way into Grub’s Bar and Bistro had already wasted one of my precious moments. I would not let him waste any more. Suffering from some poison or another. He collapsed when I smashed him in the face.
Aphrodite's Day Off
I have grown bored with Hephaestus and his monotonous humping. Just because he is the god of all blacksmiths and I am his wife, that doesn’t make me his anvil, to bang away on every night, with that pathetic little hammer of his. The Goddess of Love and Lust should be treated with a little more sophistication. If I can’t find what I need on Mount Olympus, I will pay the humans a visit.