The Flowers Begin to Bloom...
|Bikini Babes have been looming large for me.|
I made a promise to myself not to post on this blog again until I knew for sure that the delay of Space Princess Season 2 was coming to an end. For some reason, the precise approach to take to Space Princess: Flowers of Evil was eluding me for quite some time -- no doubt partly because of "life stuff" that I won't bore you with -- but as I come to the end of Act 2, I can feel the story falling into place. And I thought I would check in with you, dear readers, and share a little excerpt as the work continues.
I have other goodies to share, too, so check for those below the fold. In the meantime, my biggest recent news is that I now have one of those Patreon things. If you'd like to support the creation of Space Princess and other high-quality erotic content, I would love to have you as a patron.
I am also on Mastodon now, specifically on Switter -- a Mastodon server that is non-terrible to sex workers and those who love them (which hopefully extends to erotic writers). So you can check me out there and support social media that doesn't suck, into the bargain!
So, without further ado, read below the jump for Flowers of Evil news and other goodies!
(Note that the excerpt provided below is draft text from the novella only. It may or may not wind up in this form in the final product.)
The plot of Space Princess: Flowers of Evil calls for -- as Space Princess tales sometimes do -- some guest-starring roles for a group of friends among the hundreds of Crewgirls who make the S.S. Ecstasy what she is. These girls will step onto the stage and share in the erotic perils with which the galaxy so often menaces our heroines. In this particular case, the guest-starring Crewgirls are led by a winsome and unusual character named Darian Glenn, whose visual inspiration comes from vintage starlet and actual Star Trek bombshell Barbara Bouchet.
|Barbara Bouchet guest-stars|
as Crewgirl Darian Glenn.
Darian and her friends take their place onstage as a dastardly mind-control plot has begun to ensnare the upper ranks of the Ecstasy. Her and her friends see just hints of what is happening... at first. The hints will grow swiftly more explicit from here. Enjoy this excerpt from Space Princess: Flowers of Evil, and be sure to check out other Space Princess adventures if you've missed them.
* * * * *
“Come on, Dari! We're 'casting over any second now!”
“I'm coming, guys!” Crewgirl Darian Glenn ran full-tilt down the corridor outside the primary matter-caster chamber in the aft of Deck One. “Just tell them to hold on!”
The last thing she wanted was to be left with a troupe of strangers when beaming over to a haunted ship. Not 'haunted,' Dari, remember? she told herself firmly even as she ran, her lithe form rocketing through the corridors as her high-heeled pumps dangled from one hand. Not 'haunted.' Definitely not. You're not laying that trip on yourself, remember?
For all the internal reassurances, Darian's firm thighs pumped even faster as she held the golden flower in her blonde tresses with her other hand, her creamy skin and aquiline features flushing with exertion and her lean muscles straining under the cover of the retro one-piece golden bikini she was wearing for the occasion. Her platinum-blonde hair was streaming wildly behind her and the Head Stylist was probably going to kill her, but there was nothing for it.
She came skidding into the 'caster chamber in her bare feet, greeted by the laughter of her best friends already on the pads. They were the girls she'd come out of academy with: the chiseled and poised Aluna from the far-off Kirinyaga planetoid, her dark mahogany complexion lustrous, face bright with an ever-pressent smile; petite pageboy-haired brunettes Ruby and Riley, who came from opposite ends of Sol system but might as well have been twins; and of course the vividly blue-skinned and blue-haired Vairta, whose bared flesh matched her bikini and whose shining red eyes had made some people uncomfortable at the academy. People who weren't her best friend, anyway.
Breathlessly, she jumped up to join them with a glance of rueful apology at the leathery technician, who was just grimacing and shrugging. “Sorry, guys,” she said breathlessly. “Decided to go floral at the last minute, there was just no way my hair was staying under that hat.”
“You don't say.” Vairta grinned; she was rocking the pillbox hat herself, although unlike the others her dark blue hair was piled and pinned and teased to fit underneath it. “Darian Glenn's hair out of control? I think we'd better get on the newswaves.”
“Ha-ha, very funny, guys,” Darian shook her head as her friends chuckled. “I was glad to have the distraction of figuring it out, honestly. Wasn't a hundred percent sure if I was ready for this, you know?”
“Of course you're ready for it.” Aluna's hand clasped her shoulder reassuringly. “You're as trained as anyone. Almost the top of our class, remember?”
“Yeah, almost,” Vairta drawled to further laughter from The Twins, as the friends called them. “Just remember that part and don't get cocky.”
“Yes, ma'am.” Darian gave her a solemn mock-salute. Vairta after all had been top of the class, by one point. “Crewgirl Glenn reporting for duty, ma'am.”
“That's the spirit.”
The two friends shared a smile of mutual affection. Each of them had been a freak in her own way when they'd arrived at Cloud Nine on Venuss to get flight training for Space Princess Entertainment. They'd supported each other through it all: the gossip, the whispers, the petty little mind-games. They had forged their own space and their own little crew and won respect with their accomplishments. When Darian was with Vairta and the others, she hardly ever felt her strangeness and never because of anything they did or said, even unconsciously. That was a beautiful thing, and she cherished it.
She realized the tech at the controls was clearing his throat politely, but pointedly. Darian winced. She hated 'casting, knew she was chattering just to delay the inevitable. She closed her eyes, centered her breathing, opened her mouth...
... but Vairta, as ever, beat her to the punch. “Activate,” the statuesque Ksilaran said. And the universe froze for just a moment.
As her eyelids fluttered open again, Darian was disoriented. A little woozy, even, steadying herself with a hand to her temple as her eyes booted up and began adapting to the abrupt environment shift.
Never fails, she grumped to herself, and her hand sought out Vairta's in an old ritual, found her friend's fingers already waiting.
The blonde gave herself a moment more, letting her eyes adjust, and then looked around: she saw the bright lighting strung against the dark, brutalist metal of the Waratah's design, robots and Science Council technicians bustling everywhere. The men of the Council looked curiously festive, laughing and joking with each other as if they were all at a barbecue on the beach together, more than a few of them looking dishevelled with lab coats rumpled, hair ruffled, a few even sported unzipped trousers, their shirts poking out through the flies. Nobody seemed to notice.
As she took stock of this, Darian was surprised to see one of the Space Princess dancers appear on the scene. It was a French girl she'd talked to a couple of times, Crewgirl Satine, an alabaster-skinned brunette who was always wearing her hair in pigtails. As she came bouncing into view now, it was clear the girl was wearing her customary pigtails, a red rose in her hair and matching high-heeled pumps... and nothing else. The cute dark bush of her pubes was clearly visible as the young beauty bounced up to one of the scientists, who laughed as he wrapped his arms around her.
It looks like... hey, is she really reaching down to stroke his...
“Hello there!” Darian's attention was suddenly claimed by a statuesque woman in a tight skinsuit that rippled with silver and gold energy patterns, her flawless beauty decorated by an immaculate Parisian bob. “You must be the new arrivals, welcome to the Waratah! Oh, we've got such sights to show you.”
The woman was looking at Darian as she spoke. At her eyes in particular. The young dancer felt her ears go hot as she pulled her gaze away and felt Vairta's hand tighten in hers. I'm glad my friends never make me feel a freak, she thought. Other people never seem to fail.
Darian Glenn's looks had always been a standout since she could remember. Her high, proud cheekbones and straight aristocratic nose, the little rose of her mouth and the perfect pearly-white smile, her slender form and small breasts that nevertheless managed to rivet the eye. She'd heard it all laid out for her in exhaustive detail by... well, practically everyone she ever met. Especially most of her academy instructors, who talked about beauty as a means to an end, never as flattery.
When she had been a child, her jade-green eyes had made the list of her best features, even headlined it. Then the accident had happened—wrong place, wrong time, a freak solar flare while out joy-riding in her parents' sun yacht—and it all changed.
The cyber-eyes were green too, but uncommonly vivid, lit by a subtle glow from within that made people notice them. And the closer they looked, the more unnatural her peepers looked. She could always see them picking out the details of the circuit patterns in her irises, the artificial play of contraction and expanion between them and her pupils, the way her irises sometimes expanded to consume more of her eyeball in a manner very unlike a natural eye.
She had refused to leave the house the first year she had them. Many was the time since when she'd cried herself to sleep after being called a cyber-freak and worse. The Blindie. The Gimp. The Girl With the Eyes. Watching people notice them always made her want to hide... but by the same token, it was nothing she hadn't faced before. Steeling herself and putting on a smile, she shoved out a hand.
“Crewgirl Darian Glenn of the S.S. Ecstasy,” she said. Her very first time saying those words while on assignment for Space Princess. “Pleased to be joining the artistic team here.”
And so she began the introductions and watched the woman, who turned out to be Lora Loveridge herself, sizing them all up. As she did so, it occurred to Darian Glenn that none of the Space Princess officers were greeting them. Why? Wasn't that common practice? And as the seconds passed she began to realize there was a lot more than just reactions to her eyes to think about.
|"Red Flame" by Nefarei. Not a|
bad match for Vairta.
A group of Space Princess beauties – now clad in nothing more than pumps and strategically placed bits of rags – was walking up to take their own place on the matter-caster pads as Darian and her friends vacated them. It was funny because she hadn't heard of any plans to bring people back; but then, who would tell a lowly Crewgirl?
She spotted some famous faces among them, like the catgirl they called Vitani and a tall redhead named Friday Nagata, both Lieutenants on the bridge crew. The two were chatting with a petite, perfectly-sculpted Asian beauty wearing a similar rags-and-heels outfit. The trio threw their heads back in that particularly free kind of laughter that girls sometimes shared after a common experience that went way deeper than wine and conversation.
Darian's heart set to pounding at the thought. And it raced even faster as she saw that Satine was still there, over Loveridge's shoulder, naked as a jaybird and getting kissed deeply as a man fondled her arse for everyone to see.
Wow, this scene is just... crazy. She and Vairta shared looks of fascination, excitement and trepidation. They had heard things could get wild on the job. Would it get this wild for them?
Chain of Desire: A Freebie Story.
There are other stories without immediate homes kicking around my hard drive. One of the best of these nearly-forgotten entries is Chain of Desire, which is now live on StoriesOnline.
This is a bit of a different outing from some of my fiction: it's a combination Sixties crime story and a reincarnation not-quite-romance in which a pair of lustful souls keep finding each other in different situations across the centuries. It features excursions into Roman Britain, the slave markets of 10th-century Dublin, the 17th-century coast of Cornwall and Varna Road in 1961 Birmingham, complete with what is no doubt a terrible attempt at rendering Brummie accents.
It was fun to write and I thought it was time for it to see the light of day. Enjoy, dear readers, and please read, vote and comment if you like it!
|And yes, I'm still on this giantesses-in-bikinis thing. I don't need a reason...|
Allow Me to Play You Out.
Big things are happening once again in the Space Princess universe, which calls for a big beat. Perhaps even a big, big beat. I'll let Azealia Banks show you what I mean. Until next time, dear readers.
In fact, why not have a bunch of Azealia Banks? You can never have too much...