In case you didn’t know, Erotica had its own Muse – Erato

Although I knew since I was a kid that the Greeks believed in nine Muses, I recently discovered that one of them in particular is responsible for erotica. Her name is Erato, and her specific responsibility is erotic poetry – which makes her the Muse which we erotica writers seek favor from. Yes, of course, I’d totally do the modern version of her below.

At any rate, by Erato’s grace I’ve finally published my latest free story (“They Needed A Jump“), which frees me up to work on the other stories which require my attention.


Here’s a run down the list of where I’m at. My usual novella length is 24,000 words, and I actually have a couple of stories which aren’t too far behind in word count. I just need to get the stories up to par and not get sidetracked along the way.

Title Word Count
Progenitor 3 16500
The Fallback Plan 4600
Winning the Genetic Lottery 2 16500
Merlin’s Safeguard 5600
Mordred Rising 1700
Morgan Goes to the Office 3600
Cum In Me If You Want To Live 2 600
She Wore a Sundress to Jury Duty 2000

I’d dearly love to finish some of these before I get drawn into completing something else.

More Amazon fun and games

Amazon declined my request to set “They Needed A Jump” to free, which was half-expected and not a big surprise. But what was annoying was that while they declined to make that one free, they apparently also decided to review my account and revoke free status from “She Only Wore a Shirt to the Funeral” while they were at it. Probably just trying to push my stuff farther to the bottom of peoples’ radar… big erotica is fine, but indie erotica wanting free titles out there for publicity? Heavens no, can’t have that.

“They Needed A Jump” released!

TheyNeededAJump-fbMy latest free erotica short, “They Needed A Jump” is now available!

This is my first release this year. I’m trying to get better at balancing writing and life, because last year it was way unbalanced on the life side and the year before that… well, writing was what I did instead of living.

Anyway, click the image to the left or click here to go to the story. If you’d rather read it on your eReader, just click the download link on the page.

Preview of Fallback: Arrival

Since I haven’t posted much lately, I decided that I’d rather put up some incomplete chapters than have folks assume I’m dead.  This is a particularly breeding-centric piece which I started as a comic book storyboard years ago, then decided a while back to convert to a form I’m actually experienced at producing. I kinda want to do a comic version of this in DAZ3D some day, but that’d be when I get around to learning the ins and outs.

Fallback: Arrival

By Haramiru ( haramiru@hotmail.com )
January 20, 2337
Lights flickered on in the halls of the colony ship Agamemnon for the first time in 108 years. Huge atmospheric compressors activated as well, preparing for the long process of cycling out the argon gas which had filled the ship’s idle spaces for its long period of automated dormancy. Robots powered up and began to scuttle around, wiping off dust from their optic sensors and linking back into the central network.  A few had failed to reactivate, but the system had been correctly scaled such that these losses were inconsequential. A few minutes later, the ship’s retro thrusters ignited, beginning the months-long process of braking so that it could make a long, lazy spiral into the alien solar system and the Earth-like planet within.
A little over a century earlier, the Agamemnon and her sister ships had launched, with to plant the first of Earth’s interstellar colonies. The ship was designed to land with 1,800 people, and reach a population size of 12 million within the first five years if conditions permitted. But at the moment, there was only one live crew member.
Industrial noises filled the ship’s corridors as droids unsealed shipping containers and began to rearrange the colony ship’s interior. In the middle of it all, a single cryogenic stasis tube began whirring to life in the medical bay. Slush drained out of the capsule and into storage tanks below, continuing until the tube’s occupant was only coated in a thin layer of fluid. The med bay and its immediate vicinity were the only rooms with a breathable atmosphere at this point – the ship’s life support system wouldn’t begin replacing the fire-safe and non-oxidizing argon/co2 atmosphere until later, when the rest of the crew was revived. The ship presently didn’t have full confidence that would happen.
The capsule hissed open, and for the first time in a century, its occupant drew air into her lungs. She coughed reflexively, draining fluid from her lungs. She was Kara Reagan – chief medical officer.  Her task was to oversee the development of the colonists’ new bodies within the ship’s dozens of artificial wombs, their ‘birth’ into accelerated growth incubators, and finally download of their minds into freshly hatched clone bodies. The mass required for a suspended animation system was high, and many questioned whether it made sense to bother with even one person in stasis when machines could’ve handled the rebirth process without human interaction.
None of this was at the forefront of Kara’s mind right now, though.  She drew a deep, gasping breath of air and raised her hand, touching her chest.  She wore a thin gray sports bra, darkened nearly to black by the slippery cryo fluid. The medical bay’s cold air reacted with her nipples, and she shivered uncontrollably as her body fought off the hypothermia which lingered after her extended dormancy.
Kara’s tongue parted her lips as she moistened them reflexively in a futile effort to get the taste of cryo fluid out of her mouth. “Status?”, she croaked.
The computer’s voice recited a litany of the main system statuses – life support, propulsion, navigation – all things which she’d been trained to deal with, but not extensively.  All of the ship’s main systems checked out fine, the computer told her, but the mission status was critical.  The ship engineer, whose job was to oversee the ship’s launch, then download his consciousness before his body was euthanized, had sabotaged the mission as soon as the ship passed the point of no return.
“Computer, what did he do?” Kara demanded.
“Engineer Martinez destroyed the gestation pods before submitting to his scheduled euthanasia.”
Kara’s eyes went wide as she screamed out, “What the fuck?”  She sat up from the pod, trailing streamers of grayish fluid from her body. She reached for a nearby towel, her cleavage shining in the ship’s illumination.
“Can the Parthenogenesis system be repaired?” Kara inquired.
“Negative. Engineer Martinez also destroyed all supplies to repair the pods. Evaluation is proceeding presently on whether or not repair is feasible.”
“Shit,” Kara swore. “What the hell was he thinking?”
She rolled out of the stasis pod, swaying drunkenly as she used her muscles for the first time in a century. The first few steps were faltering and uneasy, but it wasn’t long before she was walking at a steady pace. “Computer, do you have any record of why Andy did this?”
“Yes”, the computer replied. “Engineer Martinez stated that his motivation was religious.  His belief is that the human soul cannot be downloaded, and that no souls can come from machines.”
Kara raised her eyebrow and inquired, “Then why did he sign up for this colony ship?  We didn’t need him, dammit!”
“Engineer Martinez stated that he does believe the human mind can be downloaded, just not the soul.  And he believes that the colony’s fallback plan will produce a colony in accordance with his religion’s tenets.”
Kara furrowed her eyebrows as she replied, “Fallback?  Yeah, we all die!  That’s not going to help us any.”
The computer simply replied with, “The system has not concluded that the mission is infeasible.”
Kara shook her head and began to stagger for the door. “I’m going to look at what he did and see if I can do anything.”
Kara dragged herself into the hallway, feeling like she’d just gotten over a serious flu. She remembered the last time she saw Martinez; he was happy and jovial as he sealed her into the cryo tube. Somehow during the six months he was active and supervising their out-system boost, he’d become a religious extremist and sabotaged the mission as a result. She could see why Earth hadn’t sent a second ship with repair parts – the Agamemnon had reflected a huge investment in drive technology, and it had already been under acceleration for some time. If the ship felt it could complete the mission, there was no need to send another. If it considered the mission a failure, the ship would just go dormant again and wait for replacement supplies to arrive in another century – unless of course drive tech had become considerably faster. The colonists’ minds and genomes waiting in the ship’s seed stores wouldn’t know the difference.
Kara had managed to make it to the med bay, and her balance was beginning to return. But when the door slid open, her mouth gaped in horror and her hands white-knuckled on either side of the doorframe.
“Oh no. Andy, you fucking IDIOT!” she screamed as she saw the scene in front of her. The honeycomb like lattice of artificial wombs built into the wall was broken, the machines shattered with glass everywhere. Nutrient tubes had been sliced to ribbons, and scorch marks showed where Andy had taken a cutting torch to the electronic management systems used to regrow the colonists from the zygotes they’d been reduced to. Andy himself was sitting in a chair nearby.
The flight engineer’s body was desiccated by dehydration, but had been otherwise well preserved from decay by the argon atmosphere it had rested in for the past 108 years. He was sprawled in a chair, an electrode still attached to his temple and leading to the colony’s data bank. A long-blackened bloody cut on Andy’s palm showed where he’d gotten the blood to write a message on the wall which said, “No souls from machines”
Kara stomped forward and couldn’t help but slap the corpse’s face, which caused his head to snap off at the neck and roll along the floor. “Damn you, Andy – you just killed us all!”
The computer’s voice spoke up and said, “Although my drones I could construct a single replacement womb with around a 50 percent probability of success, Engineer Martinez poured industrial solvent into all of the onboard stores of synthetic amniotic fluid. It is not possible, given on-board stores, to start the Parthenogenesis project. However, he left the accelerated growth incubators untouched.”
Kara felt dizzy – she located a second chair in the room and plopped down, staring daggers at Andy’s now-headless corpse.
A few seconds of that and Kara started to feel uncomfortable. She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself against the chill she now felt in the air. “Computer, what are our next options?”
There was a pause as the ship’s computer analyzed Kara’s physiological responses.  “The first fallback plan is to shut down and park the ship in orbit, and wait for another ship to be launched from Earth. Unfortunately, there is no guarantee another ship will be sent.”
Kara raised her eyebrow. “Why’s that?” she asked.
“A broadcast from Earth fifty years after we launched, stated that they were under attack by an alien species known as the Solrani. There have been no further communications. Broadcasting our status and location back to a potentially occupied planet is not an option.”
Kara sat down, surprise evident on her face. “We could be the last free humans,” she said wonderingly.
“Entirely possible. We have no idea if the other colony ships were successful or not. The other colonies’ transmitters all have the range to reach Earth, but we were the only colony ship dispatched in this direction.  Neither we nor the other colonies have the range to reach each other, as Earth was meant to serve as the central communications hub until the mission is well underway. Thus, we are alone.”
Kara set her jaw resolutely, then paused.  “Computer, what was the fallback plan which Andy wanted us to use?” she asked.
The computer paused for a moment. “The Parthenogenesis system is an artificial womb, in which genetically engineered zygotes grow into human babies. They are then imprinted with the Syncorded neural snapshot of the original colonists during the accelerated growth phase. Although intended for use with an artificial womb, these zygotes can still be implanted into your womb.”
Kara spluttered. “Wait, you mean – me? Computer, that’s ridiculous! Only a few religious cultures still use biological gestation now!”
She sunk into a chair, dazed, resting both her hands over her face.  “Fuck that noise,” she reiterated. “There are 1,800 colonists that need to be born!”
The computer was silent for a few minutes. “Medical officer Reagan, I’m afraid your only other option is to be euthanized to conserve resources. This ship does not maintain adequate cryo resources to sustain you while another ship arrives from Earth – assuming that Earth is even capable of sending one.”
Kara closed her eyes and brought her head back up slowly.  Her eyes were shut, and she slowly opened them as she said, “So – either I somehow miraculously go through 1,800 nine-month biological pregnancies, or you’ll euthanize me?”
“I’ve had a century to develop a plan, Medical officer Reagan. I’ve altered the nano-aug system meant for the artificial wombs, to function in your body. Your pregnancies will last three days each, with priority on birthing female colonists who are highly compatible with the nano-aug system. Their bodies will will reach adult status in 18 days, at which point they in turn will be impregnated. The population growth rate will be factorial, and I anticipate that the colony will be ready for the final wave of children, the male colonists, in under three months.  Assuming that the population growth rate matches my optimal model, you will have only been pregnant 18 times before this is over.”
Kara suddenly felt naked. Her hand unconsciously went to her belly as she said, “That’s still barbaric!”
The computer was silent for a few seconds before it said, “If you have further discussion, please feel free to speak. Otherwise, I will leave you to make your decision. You have an hour before I begin to restore the argon atmosphere, which will have the unfortunate effect of rendering you unable to breathe.”
Kara stayed in the chair for a couple of minutes, then wandered back to the cryo room. One of the walls had a large viewscreen, through which she could see the planet she’d traveled across the stars to reach.  She put her hand to the glass, as if she could reach through to touch the planet. “108 years. 108 years of sleep, and then I die here – never even getting to set foot on the planet. And no one will ever know.”
The computer helpfully chirped up with, “You may take the time to compose a letter, if you wish. If I’m still functional when I next encounter humans, I’ll pass it on to them.”
Kara thought about it for a moment, then shook her head. “Fuck it. Computer, cancel the shutdown. I didn’t spend 108 years in flight just to die here.”

Guns, Girls, and Download Spikes

She Only Wore a Shirt to the FuneralIt’s not a secret that I’m involved in the US firearms community. For that matter, it’d be possible to deduce that from the fact that a lot of my stories involve firearms.  Cupid’s Armorer, for instance, is about rearming the Cupids with guns, and the entire “She Wore…” series is the story of a gun shop owner who gets lucky on a regular basis with women who want to get pregnant.

Anyway, the thing which amused me was looking at my download statistics during the 2015 SHOT show in January.  For those who don’t know, the SHOT show is the single largest gun industry trade show in the US, and it was held in Las Vegas this year.

Anyway, the downloads on “She Only Wore a Shirt to the Funeral” – my only gun-related free story – have been pretty steady and around the same level for months, with spikes for Christmas and such.  The funny thing is that during the SHOT show, this story and my other gun-related erotica took a huge jump starting on Jan 19th (the start of the show) and continuing until the show ended on Jan 23rd.  Right after that, downloads returned immediately to baseline.

I noticed this while I was there, and found myself paying close attention to what people were doing.  I found it hard to suppress a smirk whenever I noticed a booth babe reading an eBook – and there were a lot of them doing so whenever they weren’t talking to people. I’m not sure that they were reading my stuff, as it’s entirely possible that the spike in downloads may have come from attendees or just people getting excited about the media coverage around there.But dammit, an author can dream can’t he?

Amazon’s mystical hidden category keywording

Progenitor1thumbI recently told a woman I’m dating that I’m an erotica author – just not which one.  Lo and behold, this sparked a fire of curiosity in her which has launched a grand quest for my identity.  She had a clever idea: Navigate into Amazon’s erotica section and get a list of all the sci-fi erotica authors, then sift through them all.

Well, that was an interesting concept, and I decided to see exactly how big the haystack she was looking for me in, was.  Lo and behold, I found out I wasn’t a sci-fi erotica author according to Amazon.

This was interesting to me.  I knew I’d never seen science fiction in the category drop-downs on the KDP site, and I’d entered “sci-fi” as one of my keywords on all my science fiction erotica books.  But, it had never made a difference, and I never saw my stories tagged as sci-fi.  Heck, those keywords never even got displayed.  As far as I could tell, they didn’t do much of anything, and I wasn’t paying much attention since I didn’t think I could change anything.

Wrong.  It turns out that Amazon has this secret list of category mappings, which work off of the keywords you provide in your KDP publisher page for each book.

Lindsay Buroker’s article does a wonderful job of listing some, or possibly all, of the magic keywords which will get you into the categories.  For instance, I mentioned above that I used “sci-fi” as a keyword in all of my sci-fi pieces.  Useful?  NOPE!  The bullshit fairy came along sprinkling her magic pixie dust, and that dust meant that “science fiction” is the keyword I’d need to use if I wanted my stories to appear in science fiction.  Or “pulp” will get you into action and adventure.  It’s more than a little ridiculous that these keywords are kept more or less secret, and that Amazon isn’t more liberal with the creation of categories.  For instance, I would sure love to a category for breeding erotica, so that those of us who write this particular censor-bait category can benefit from readers exploring our stories.  Alas, this is not available.  But at least I’m actually marked as a sci-fi erotica author now.

If you’re reading this, K… Hi.  Your prize is that autographed paperback I promised, and hopefully your family never stumbles across it. 🙂

Spousal sex deprivation really is a form of abuse

…and I’m really surprised I now know women suffering from it too

 

She Only Wore a Shirt to the Funeral

She Only Wore a Shirt to the Funeral

I wrote “She Only Wore a Shirt to the Funeral” in early 2013 or so.  At the time, I knew that sometimes men just wouldn’t sleep with their wives after they’d borne them children.  I’d heard Elvis had that issue, but I couldn’t wrap my brain around that and figured it was a rare mental hangup I woudn’t run across in my life.  Nevertheless, I used that as part of the reason Jade chose to cheat on her husband… it was rare, I reasoned, but this is porn and it does happen sometimes.

And suddenly now, there are two women in my personal circle whose husbands are withholding sex from them.   I’m really shocked that this is a thing, to be honest.

My perspective is probably skewed since I write breeding erotica, but here are my thoughts: Guys, you got your wife pregnant once.  You came inside her, she accepted it and had your baby, then dealt with the mental and physical fallout… and now she shows that she’ll willingly risk going through that again – or even actively wants it – by wanting to fuck you?  Doesn’t the sheer implied desire arouse you?  Seriously, I’m having immense trouble wrapping my head around this.  Of these two women, both of their husbands just totally shut down and refused to give them any physical contact, even hugs, after they gave birth.  Even after they got their bodies back.  One of the two women started cheating after two years of this rejection, and the other is having trouble not following suit after going almost two years.  I’ll never respect someone who cheats on someone who was actually making a try at their marriage, but being constantly shot down and rejected by your spouse hurts like hell.  And almost all the married men I know in real life are under-sexed, with their frigid wives metering out tiny, tiny bits of sex once in a blue moon.  With that in mind, I’m seriously wondering what the living fuck is wrong with these womens’ husbands, such that they’re refusing what none of the other guys are getting.  Society constantly preaches to women that it’s funny and empowering for them to reject their husbands’ advances and laugh at his near-sexless existence, but it’s shocking to me that any men would actually voluntarily choose that fate for themselves.

The way I think it should be…

I can see avoiding sex before you have a kid, I can understand safe sex at any time, but once you’ve had a kid with a woman… pragmatically she’s going to be in your life for at least 18 years, whether she’s still married to you or not.  The question of having another kid or not is up to you and your wife, but withholding sex at this point doesn’t do a single useful thing for you, and it may escalate a bickering marriage into a divorce and that nasty child support which will really screw up your life.

Should I get a woman pregnant, you’d better believe that withholding sex won’t be on the menu after whatever fights we may get into.  After having been the “good husband” all the way through a near-sexless marriage, I’ll never put another human being through that.

Speaking of which, I know WAY more men suffering this…

Nearly every married or divorced guy I know, myself included, was lied to by their wives about how important they felt sex is and how often it’ll be.  After a year or two, it just about always turns into once a month if you’re lucky.  She’s always got “more important things to do”.  To many women, a husband is nothing more than a walking wallet crossed with a housepet.  A couple of months after we were married, my wife got pissy when I asked for sex a second time that week and said, “I expected that by now we’d be done with having sex!”  She seriously expected that once I’d gotten laid a few times after we first got married, that I’d lose interest in it completely… and she’s not the only woman who thinks that way.

A news flash for any of the female gender who thinks like this: Being a man with a normal sex drive is like walking down a scorching road on a hot summer’s day.  By that I mean it’s a workout, but as long as you have a constant source of water it’s actually kind of fun.  And there is only one thing which quenches a normally-wired man’s sexual thirst: some form of physical sex with an actual woman.  Outside of a poly or open marriage, when you marry someone you grant them absolute power of monopoly and veto over their sex life for the rest of their life.  Giving a woman total ownership of his sex life is one of the hugest steps of trust a man will ever take.  Ladies, that monopoly comes with a responsibility to make an honest effort to see after his needs in some way.  In extreme cases, even if it means you release him to see after his needs with other women… there’s more integrity and honesty in that than in utterly suppressing him sexually.

Let me preface the next paragraph with this: there are circumstances sometimes – there are medical problems, etc.  Or if he’s abusing you, he has it coming but you should be in therapy working on it or filing paperwork to divorce.  If he’s been cheating on you, then he needs therapy focused on addressing the issues which makes him seek out other women or you need to get divorced.  But ladies, if you withhold sex from your husband just because it makes you feel empowered, or you think it’s “boring” (yet you won’t try anything new), or that you just flat-out think it’s funny when he’s desperate… then you’re a spiteful bitch.  Remember that road I mentioned earlier?  Your man is walking down that hot road, thirsty as fuck, and every single woman on that road has a pitcher of water – but he’s given his oath that he will never drink from another woman’s pitcher.  Imagine that every time he asks you for a drink, even a sip, you roll your eyes at him and refuse.  If he begs you, the only person he’s allowed to ask, for water, imagine that you keep refusing… or maybe you finally relent, and just tease him by dripping a single drop onto his tongue with an eyedropper, once every month or two.  Now, the only thing keeping this man in your sick-minded trap is his integrity.  He could ask another woman for a drink, and maybe she would actually take care of the horrible, all-consuming thirst which you are creating by denying him even the slightest comfort.  For that matter, the average husband even has the physical strength to force sex on his wife, but the integrity not to.  A woman who seriously considers these things, yet continues to deny her husband physical relations, is an unloving bitch who doesn’t really deserve him.  If actually taking care of his needs is something you’re just unwilling to do, then have the integrity to offer him a divorce, or even an open marriage.  Don’t just keep him suffering from chronic thirst while you use his desperation as a source of sadistic comedy.  If you do this, then you are a genuinely hateful, horrible human being who is torturing another human being for no reason other than your own sick, twisted pleasure.

I don’t normally get into my personal life here, but the paragraph above describes the hellish marriage I was trapped in until a few months ago.  The only reason I’m single now is that my wife, after putting me through two years of almost no sex at all, finally acted on her daddy issues and fucked a meth head who was around the same age that her (alcoholic, abusive) dad died at, 20 years older than her.  She gave me just about the only utterly clear-cut grounds for divorce I believe in.  Had she not cheated, I would’ve gritted my teeth and endured my sex-deprived existence for the rest of my life, which at the time I desperately hoped wouldn’t last much longer.  Now that I’m finally single again, I’m genuinely terrified of the prospect of remarriage.  For a man, it’s granting a woman sexual monopoly over you and trusting that she won’t be like most of your friends’ wives, and exploit that monopoly as a smug form of spousal abuse.

Summary

Getting back to the original subject of this post… given my experience, and most of my married male friends’ experiences, I can understand women depriving men of sex because that’s just what women do once they get “sexless marriage is best!” into their heads.  But this is honestly the first I’ve seen where women are being denied too, and it boggles my mind because most of my friends would practically kill to have their wives actually want sex for a change.  So I’m just going to finish with this statement: man or woman, if you’re constantly rejecting your spouse’s sexual advances, you have a serious responsibility to come up with a caring solution to your mismatched sex drives.  I don’t care what it is, just fucking fix it or split so that your spouse can be happy with someone.

A couple of interesting pieces on indie publishing

Progenitor2thumbSo, I stumbled upon these interesting articles earlier today.  The first one is more slanted towards publishers – both large and small.  Basically, it makes some really good points about what the KDP Select program does and doesn’t do for authors.

http://pjmedia.com/lifestyle/2014/06/06/how-to-compete-with-amazon-if-you-really-want-to/

Now, one variable which isn’t tracked in this article matters overwhelmingly to erotic authors: Censorship.  With rare exceptions, Amazon is the most capriciously censor-happy of all the publishers I’ve seen.  And when they won’t ban content “up front”, they’ll flag it to be all but invisible in their searches so that you still don’t sell much of it.  It’s probably a little easier for a publisher to compete against Amazon in the erotica space than the traditional space, given that even our readers get annoyed at the way Amazon hides the content they want from them.

The second article explains how books are ranked in sales, and how easy it is to manipulate traditional brick and mortar best seller lists.  In short, they can say “this book is the #1 best seller” because they printed and shipped more copies of it than anything else – but it doesn’t actually mean it’s selling.  Hilary Clinton’s biography – which is bombing in sales – actually denotes an interesting crack in the armor of the industry as it stands.

http://pjmedia.com/lifestyle/2014/06/20/the-publishing-business-is-in-crisis/

Proof that I’m writing… Progenitor 3 opener

Progenitor1thumbThis is the opener from Progenitor 3, which at this rate is likely to be the first story I complete on my new laptop.  There’s been some substantial improvements vs the briefly-released free version, and I’m really liking how Amita’s rewrite is going.  Her motivations ranged from psychotic-sounding to petty in previous drafts, and this is a lot better than it’s been in the past.

The link, of course, is to Progenitor 1.  If the last place you read it was on a website, you should either download the free eBook version linked from the Progenitor 1 page (it’s better edited than the website versions) or pick up the commercial version (which contains far more content than the free versions have).

The Beginning of Progenitor 3
Behind me, a public bus growled off into the distance with a throaty growl.  I paid it no attention though, because the two hot young co-eds in front of me were far more interesting.  We’d gotten off the bus together, and now they were leading me down the street towards the sorority house they lived in.  The only thing on my mind was the way their well-formed asses swayed in front of me, oscillating with a practiced strut as they walked down the sidewalk ahead of me.
They weren’t just sorority sisters; Erica and Amita were roommates.  Amita was East Indian, with medium-dark skin and a toned body, and she wore skin-tight electric blue shorts.  Her generous bosom was confined by a sports bra which was thin enough to show off her perky nipples, but tight enough that her cocoa-brown cleavage pushed invitingly up through the top.  Erica was a slender white brunette with green eyes which always seemed to sparkle mischievously.  She wore relatively modest jean shorts, along with a yellow cross-hatched string bikini top which technically violated the “no shirt, no shoes, no service” policy at the mall we’d just left – but realistically, such rules rarely get enforced on girls with her body.
The neighborhood we were walking through was suburban, full of large two and three story houses with green lawns.  It was walking distance from college, and it seemed like most of the houses had Greek letters somewhere around their front doors.  I was carrying both the girls’ shopping bags, and the weight was refreshing in my hands.  It’d been decades since I had been this strong, and my 1940s sensibilities meant I was thrilled that I could show the girls a little bit of old-fashioned chivalry – at least, until I inevitably fucked and impregnated both of them.  At this point, that final outcome was a foregone conclusion, but after fleeing from the scene of the orgy I touched off back in the mall, I was hoping to get some rest before it happened.  Soon, the girls turned and walked up to the front door of a stately three-story house with some Greek letters on the door above the peephole.
Erica swung the unlocked front door open, and waved me in.  “Entres vous,” she said in a mock French accent.
I stepped through the door, and the first thing I noticed was that the house was filled with the scent of potpourri candles.  The front room was a cozy sitting area full of couches and chairs.  The floor was faux wood paneling, covered in a few places with small rugs.
“Our room is upstairs,” Erica said as she checked a mail cubby by the door.  “And I’m officially inviting you up to it.  The house rules say that men are only welcome in our room until 8pm, but that only applies if someone knows you’re here.”  She winked and added, “It’s not like they’ll check, unless you’re really loud.”
I nodded.  “Sure, I’m up for hanging out.  What’re your plans for tonight?”
She rolled her eyes.  “Mostly studying, unfortunately.  My organic chemistry professor assigns us homework as if he’s our only class!  I couldn’t possibly make it without Amita here,” she said, indicating her previously silent friend.
“Oh Erica, you’d do just fine on your own,” Amita giggled nervously.  I could tell that she was nervous, but she’d inhaled enough of my pheromones so far that their influence was beginning to push her shyness into the back of her mind.
Erica looked around furtively, then said quietly, “C’mon, before someone sees you here and makes you sign in.”  She turned and walked up the stairs in front of me, and Amita and I followed behind.  I found myself her shorts; they were a work of art which hugged every curve of her early-20s ass.  It was impossible not to enjoy the view, and my dick hardened a little in spite of myself.
In my position, a normal college guy’s mind would be nervous, micro-analyzing his every move in a desperate attempt to avoid messing up his chance to get laid.  But I’d just had more sex than the average guy gets in a year in one afternoon, and there had to be at least three hundred women carrying my children by now from the mall alone.  My body, even with its alien enhancements, felt drained and I was hoping to get a nap in before fucking the two sorority girls.
Erica shouldered open the door to their bedroom and plopped down into a chair near the door, while Amita took a few steps forward and dove onto a bed head-first.  I selected a comfy looking beanbag chair near the bed and sat down on it, relatively sure that I hadn’t sat in one in for at least forty years.
Amita sat up in the bed and plucked a t-shirt off of her dresser, then slipped it over her sports bra and began fumbling around beneath.  Moments later, she let out a sigh of relief and pulled the bra out from under her shirt in an impressive feat of agility.  I’m pretty sure that she intended for me to notice how her nipples poked prominently through the shirt, but I avoided making any comments.  I still wanted to try to get some rest before I got her pregnant.
Erica noticed me watching Amita undress, and cleared her throat to draw my attention.  I looked over to the chair she was sitting in, where she sat with her hands clasped behind her head and resting on the top of her neck.  “You’re not a prude, are you?” she asked.
I shook my head, and Erica grinned widely.  “Good,” she said as she pulled the draw string on her bikini top.
“Erica!” Amita gasped out as the cups of her friend’s bikini top flopped down, revealing her well-formed tits and erect nipples.
Erica smirked saucily as she lifted the top off over her head and tossed it onto her study desk, posing coquettishly for a moment.  “Oh Amita, lighten up.  I’m sure he doesn’t mind a little show.  Do you?”
I shook my head and leaned back in the beanbag chair, folding my hands behind my head.  “Not at all, ladies,” I replied.
Truthfully, I was starting to enjoy it a bit too much.  My hard-on was sticking up from my pants like a flagpole, and Erica’s eyes darted down to it before her mouth creased in a guilty-pleasure grin.
“I bet you’re enjoying it, all right,” said Amita.  She arched her back a little, unsure exactly what she wanted to do but certain that showing off a little more couldn’t hurt.
Erica rolled her eyes and got out of her chair, her bare breasts swaying seductively as she walked towards me. I tracked her motion with my head as she plopped down next to me on the beanbag chair.
“You wouldn’t mind sharing the beanbag chair with me, would you?  It’s my favorite place to sit,” she said.  The warmth of her skin seeped into my side as she cuddled up to me, the curve of her breast pressing gently up against my side.
I shrugged and worked my arm around behind her back so that it was more comfortable. “Sharing makes the world go round,” I said resignedly. Inwardly I cringed a little; at this point, I was pretty sure that the nap I’d wanted was history.
Amita stood up from the bed and came over. “Now Erica, that chair looks too small for the two of you.”
Erica giggled.  “It’s fine – unless of course you were planning to join us?” she asked.
Amita’s cheeks flushed so red that I could see it through her cocoa-brown skin as she stammered out, “Well… yes, I’d like to.”
I glanced over at the bed, piled high with pillows like a typical girl-nest.  “How about we take it to the bed then, ladies?”
Erica cracked a half-smile and playfully punched me in the side. “Think you’re getting lucky or something?” she asked.
I wistfully replied, “What I really think, is that I want a nap.  But I’ll take getting lucky, as long as I get to sleep afterwards.”

End of preview

So, Phil’s the same somewhat-reluctant Progenitor he’s always been… but hell, you would be too if you were in his position.  Or, positions…

Ominous future for Nook readers and Barnes & Noble

When Erica plays "Baby Roulette", Brent wins either way

When Erica plays “Baby Roulette”, Brent wins either way

Picture is only related in that I’m presently working on the Brent Allen universe a little right now.  But, the main thing I’m writing about is the ominous happenings in the Barnes and Noble world.  B&N has been a nice little company to me – not as worked up about censorship as Amazon, with a nice online editor and a reasonable amount of control over your stories’ presentation.  Unfortunately, not many companies can realistically expect to survive when producing hardware competing with Amazon, and thus Barnes & Noble has announced today that they’re splitting off their Nook division in March.  The link below shows what’s going on:

http://www.latimes.com/books/jacketcopy/la-et-jc-barnes-noble-cuts-nook-loose-20140625-story.html

Overall, this concerns me in that it represents a further tightening of Amazon’s velvet fist over the e-Reader market.  A future where Amazon is able to become a sole arbiter of access to the mainstream readers is utterly bleak for erotica authors.  They throw a new category of erotica under the bus every six months or so, whenever they need to look good for worried soccer moms who somehow think their copies of “50 Shades of Grey” represent something morally superior because there are no tentacles (or whatever other kink) involved.  The issue I have with that is that Amazon just about has a strangle hold on readers’ willingness to purchase content.  It’s easy, it’s quick, and you can sign in and read your book with a nice polished user interface whether you’ve got it on your Kindle, your phone, or your iPad.  If you want to buy a book that isn’t on Amazon, you’ve got to go browse another online bookstore, work out how to get it onto your device, etc.  This sort of thing presents no barrier at all to an IT professional, but let’s be realistic about how much of the market the lack of convenience cuts out… it’s a lot.

I’d be much happier in a world where Amazon still had vibrant long-term competition – and Nook spinning off to die alone (probably) signifies pretty much the end of Amazon’s realistic competition in the eBook market.  Sure, there’ll always be the fringe sites, and I’ll always list my stories on them.  But honestly, I just don’t see any of the fringe sites really getting enough momentum going to challenge Amazon again.

Incidentally, this is the link to my previous post on both Sony and Diesel shuttering their stores… https://new.haramiru.com/2014/03/two-online-bookstores-closing-up-shop-this-month-and-free-story-updates/

Got my mac dialed in – writing is so much nicer!

Oh geez, writing on a mac again is so much nicer!

Cupid's ArmorerYep, getting to write with a mac again is awesome, and I’m pretty sure my previous laptop really is the reason I wasn’t getting anything written for a while.  I’m inordinately happy with the keyboard on this thing vs the PC I was using.  Miserable keyboard equals low word counts… hey, it’s why a lot of authors stuck with the typewriters they were familiar with rather than switching to computer right away, right?

Anyway, I spent yesterday and today so far getting my laptop all dialed in – and by dialed in, I mean setting it up with some basic features to render it harder for a friend to blunder into the fact that I write erotica if he’s using my laptop for something.  I’ll end up writing a little bit on the various steps I’ve taken later, as this is a common enough problem.  Before my basic solution was to keep the laptop “clean” and do all my writing on a remote Linux machine, but now I want to be able to write outside the network.

And surprisingly, Cupid’s Armorer is taking off!

Cupid’s Armorer was one of my favorite stories to write, and I always thought it was kind of a shame that it never really took off with the readers.  When you’re mostly known for your breeding erotica, a story involving angels NOT getting each other pregnant isn’t really going to appeal that well to your main demographic.

That having been said, lately there’s been a fair number of sales for this title, which makes me really happy.  The sex scenes and the story were both were fun to write on Cupid’s Armorer, and frankly the idea of giving a guy who died so randomly a chance for an awesome sex life afterwards just appealed to me.

My most recent Amazon review was on the 15th:

The story line was good. The “gun talk” was a little over my head, but it was necessary for the story line. I will read more of this author!

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