Friday, August 29, 2014

Pet Teacher

The clock ticked by slowly as Rachel sat in her English class, bored out of her mind. She considered it her easiest class; writing had always been her strong suit. Unfortunately, this led to an overconfidence which made her unprepared for her tests, which she didn’t bother to study for. She could bullshit her way through the essays easy enough, but it was clear to Dan Hadder, her young teacher, that she was only getting by on a minimum of effort.
When class was over, Dan called Rachel to stay behind. The freshman girl sighed, annoyed at the request, but not really surprised by it. She supposed she couldn’t just slack off forever; this was college after all, but honestly, how could she be expected to pay attention when she’d learned most of this stuff in High School already?
Dan sighed a little as Rachel gave him an annoyed look.  He couldn't keep cutting her breaks, however. If he didn’t learn to be firm with his students, his teaching career would be a joke. “Rachel,” he said, calmly, keeping his eyes on her face.  “Your performance in your school work has been lacking. I can see that you are very bright, and can easily grasp the material, but you don’t put in any more than a minimum effort. Just because you are bright doesn't give you the right to slack off. I've given you the benefit of the doubt thus far, but I can’t keep giving you a pass if you aren’t going to at least try.” Dan waited to see her reaction, hoping she wouldn't be as dismissive of his words as she was of her work.
Rachel watched him with a bored expression, her grey eyes glancing over him. He was certainly a cute one, which was really the only reason she even paid him even half her attention. When he paused, she pursed her lips together as she carefully eyed him over. “I don’t see what the problem is,” she said. “I do the work. Why isn’t that enough?”
“Because just doing the bare minimum isn’t going to get you ahead in life,” said Dan.
Rachel shrugged. “Why does it always have to be about getting ahead? Life’s not a rat race. Or at least, it shouldn’t have to be.”

The Pixie's Reward

Duncan had been driving home from the factory in the wee hours of the morning when he encountered a pixie. It smacked against his windshield with a rather loud “THWAP!” as he idled at a stop light. The pixie groaned as her form splayed almost comically across the glass. Duncan frowned and observed the small creature with that perfect deadpan look only those tired to the bones, yet not in a position to fall asleep, can master. He put the car in park long enough to step out and scoop the small thing up, before depositing it on the passenger seat. He then drove the rest of the way home, ignoring the impulse to question his sanity. Such lines of inquisition could wait for a better time, one when he wasn’t having to use most of his willpower to keep his eyes open and on the road.
As he drove home, though, he stole a couple glances at the thing he had rescued. It was the very image of a classical pixie: a fully grown, beautiful woman only six inches tall, wearing a simple green dress, with two sets of translucent, iridescent wings sprouting from her back. Her long red hair came down to nearly her ankles, and her slim, fit figure had a nice set of curves.
She did not awaken as Duncan pulled into the driveway of his small, one-story home. He cupped her gently with one hand as he went inside. Grabbing a clean hand towel, he set up a small “mattress” on the kitchen counter, and lay her down atop it. Then he plopped down on the couch, and turned on the TV. As the sights and sounds of late night programming lulled him to sleep, he wondered if his little hallucination would still be there in the morning.
He was assured of this when, eight solid hours later, he awoke to a tapping on his cheek. With a snort, he blinked awake and nearly leaped out of his skin as he saw the diminutive creature hovering right above his face. Still half asleep, he swatted at it, thinking it was some kind of large bug. She easily dodged his hand, floating up to the ceiling.
“Hey!” she called down, in a voice surprisingly normal sounding for one so tiny. “Careful!”

Thursday, August 28, 2014


I'm taking down a few of my ebooks for various reasons. This includes:

Prize Student

Naughty Mages & Erotic Espers

Sensually Sadistic

I'll repost a few of the stories in the collections, although most are already on various sites like Literotica, a few forums, or this blog anyway.

"Too Late For Eternity": A Classic Gynocracy Story

I was reminded today of a story I once read long, long ago. I remember reading this in an old three-story anthology book I randomly found at one of those giant book sales, but I guess this must have also been published in magazines elsewhere. While I was already into dominant women at the time, this story nonetheless probably influenced me further somewhat, and resonated with me for those reasons. It is a non-sexual story, but nonetheless provides an interesting premise of a world where men are raised to be perfect husbands and providers for a society run by immortal women, each generation regularly replacing the one before.

The story is "Too Late For Eternity," written by Bryce Walton in 1955, and can be found in full on this archive site:

Sunday, August 24, 2014

Sex Mage ComiCaptiCon

So, here's an attempt at a sub-theme/story: a series of Captioned Images where the characters are at a Comic Book Convention. Sort of inspired by all the scandals lately about perverts at comic and game conventions. (And in case anyone wants to jump on my ass about that, this is of course not in anyway an attempt to make fun of or cheapen real life issues of sexual harassment.)

Wednesday, July 9, 2014


The caption is not mine, but the gif is from a tumblr called Teased the the edge of sanity. Pretty hot "cum when I command" pic.