Mother Superior Book 2: Decisions LIVE

mother-superior-2It’s alive! The vamp is back. Mother Superior Book 2: Decisions is available online. My vampire series moves along with this installment. Diavola, the futa Mother Superior, has to decide her next move in the fight against the vampire Aurora. The decision shocks Diavola’s assistant/lover Sister Shannon. Didn’t shock me. I read my outline. What would you do with the choice: eternal youth or certain death?

I flesh out… so to speak… my vampire mythos with the transition ceremony and first feeding. Warning: blood is involved.

[NOTE: a question has been raised about the photo I used on the cover. Just to protect myself I will be uploading a new version. The link to Amazon will remain the same.]


The aging futa Mother Superior Diavola has a decision to make. Stay true to her calling as the facilitator and mentor to young futanari as they enter their new lives, or to toss it all aside for the siren call of eternal youth.

As she and her faithful African-American assistant prepare to meet their adversary, the vampire Aurora, the decision had been made. The die was cast and their adventure was about to begin.

This is a 7,300-word story containing futa and vampire sex. There will be blood.


The ceremony begins. Ancient beyond comprehension they stripped their clothes and tossed aside. The dark room couldn’t hid the bodies framing their sensuality. Futa and vampire melded into one. Aurora’s arms wrapped the nun from behind, one hand sliding across warm flesh to grasp a giant breast as the other took a firm hold of the futa cock jutting proudly.

Long incisors sank deep into the neck with an audible pop. Mother showed no reaction, no indication of pain. Instead she held her neck bent at an angle in surrender. Aurora at first closed her eyes in ecstasy as hot blood poured into her mouth The first swallow was always the sweetest.

Sister stared, mouth agape. It was almost obscene, like the vampire was making love to her superior, her friend, her beloved. Their intertwining of limbs as Mother reached to grasp Aurora’s ass completed the tableau. Precum poured from the dark red cock onto the floor. Sister licked her lips. Tasty. She hated to see the waste.

After several minutes Aurora pulled away, delicately wiping a smudge of blood from her lips and licking a stained finger. Shannon grew weak in the knees. On one hand she wanted to grab the knife and drive it into the monster’s heart to protect her loved one. On the other she desired to be lying under their bodies allowing their juices to dribble into her mouth.

Explore with me the growing relationship between Mother Superior and her Maker, Aurora. They are just getting a good start on their adventure. Book 2: Decisions on Amazon.

Review of Mother Superior Book 1: Futa v. Vampire

mother-superior-1I don’t mind telling you I was nervous when Bryce Calderwood posted a review of Futa v. Vampire. It was his books starting with Enthralled that got me interested in combining the futa with the vampire. His take… oh my friends… was unlike any vampire tale you have ever read in your life. No elegant vamps in tuxedos. I had to be sure nothing of his seeped into my own ideas.

So his 4-star review thrills me. I’m on the right track in building the legend of my own ‘creatures of the night.’

Hot and erotic vampire/futa September 21, 2016
A good beginning to a promising series. Tons of constant futa action. Interesting vampire lore. Enjoyed it a lot. Ready for the next!

I will be posting book 2 to Amazon today.  Just finishing up the edits when I ran across this review. I had to take a moment to squeee. Thanks, Master. I kneel at your workstation. (Bryce does DD/ls BDSM, too.)

An Epiphany

imagesI had a lot of traffic for my last post “Not A Pretty Story,” not the least of which was the person I was explaining myself to. (Thanks, my darling, for understanding.) It also generated comments on Facebook and Twitter besides my friends here at WordPress. Some insights were shared with me and one, in particular, has caught my attention.

As I am, in the most basic sense, hiding from life, unable to interact in ways a normal person takes for granted, I just may be suffering from more than simply being shy. The suggestion was that I have PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder. While I have always thought of that in terms of combat vets who had witnessed and/or participated in the horrors of war, I have to admit I was just a tad stressed by my experience.

Since I was irritated and kind of blamed my therapist for putting me in the position to be attacked in the first place, I never went back. I cancelled her by phone. Had I instead gone and told her what happened, just maybe she would have (1) walked me through the healing process, and (2) given me a fucking discount! That would have helped. Instead, I’ve been stewing in this memory for a very long time.

I have written the incident into my stories several times now as an explanation for my protagonist’s personality. The very first series I wrote and published — T-Girl in the Office — (I’m not linking because this isn’t an advertisement post) is a telling of my life starting with working alone in a law firm midnight shift. Vastly romanticized, of course. Had to have a happy ending. The hope was that writing about it would dissipate its power. I tried three times not counting my previous post. I won’t again. It hasn’t worked. Going to sleep I hug my pillow dreaming of my love, wrapped in her safe arms. But during the night I have flashes.

Bottom line: if I’m ever going to be comfortable going out in public, much less dressed en fem, I may need to find a therapist. Haha! Could be more of a challenge that you think.

So thanks for your comments, everybody. Seriously. It has helped me. And isn’t that why we do blogs in the first place?

It’s A Futa Life Book 2: Interruption LIVE

It's a Futa Life 2It’s A Futa Life Book 2: Interruption is available on Amazon. And I should make a fortune off this book. I posted it onto Amazon while hunkered in an evacuation shelter using my iPhone as a hotspot for my iPad to fill out the New Title Checklist. My perseverance alone should count for something LOL. (I live in Apalachicola, Florida. Hello Hurricane Hermine.)

Anyway, this is book picks up where Book 1 ended. Cynthia the futa and Anna her deputy girlfriend have declared their love after a bomb attack. What the story expresses said is true: do not put off expressing your feelings to those you love. You never know what can happen and when. You would regret it.

So their love blossoms and, of course, hot sex ensues. Always. But into this idyllic life comes the terrorist looking to spread fear, choosing the lone female cop as his focal point. Will Cynthia be forced to watch the execution of her lover? Will she be able to stop it?


Cynthia the futa is relieved when Anna returns home safely after a terrorist bomb attack. Realizing how life can change in the blink of an eye Cynthia determines to declare her love. Her heart bursts when Anna returns the emotion. From that time on they are unable to keep their hands off one another.

They unwittingly put themselves in danger as they become targets. When Cynthia is attacked in her own home and strapped to a chair, forced to watch the murder of her lover, how will she be able to prevent the tragedy? Can she stop it?

This is a 7,300-word story containing a sexy futa, a hot lesbian, and sex exploring the unique futanari genitalia from all angles.


Anna had kicked off the covers during the night. Most of her body lay exposed to Cynthia. Fingers traced a violent history. There were some cuts and abrasions from the bomb the day before. She traced some larger welts along a muscular thigh, on one calf, and a long thin scar across her upper chest.

A trembling lid indicated Anna, too, was waking. When her gray eyes opened she found Cynthia’s hazel pupils mere inches from her. As if she was inhaling her exhale. She started, then flashed her trademark blinding smile. She has the most perfect teeth, Cynthia thought.

“Mornin’, dear,” Anna said, yawning and stretching noisily. “Whatcha doing?”

“A favorite book, often read, has the cover scratched and dented, the ends bent . . . pages dogeared, text highlighted and loved passages underscored, You are my book, darling, and every mark is a memory. Like this one,” she said running a finger at a long welt.

“The memory for that one,” she chuckled, “is an attack in Afghanistan during one of my tours there.”

“And this?” indicating the thin scar.

“A drunk got me with a knife one night. Total surprise. He had been a jovial lush seconds before. This is the worst,” Anna said placing Cynthia’s hand on her left breast.

“What happened there, darling?”

“Somebody stole my heart.” Cynthia teared up, the fear from the night before washing over her. She could have lost her lover. She would have been devastated, destroyed if she had been denied this growing relationship.

Cynthia rolled on top of Anna, fleshy body against body. From that position she stared seriously into Anna’s eyes.

“What?” Anna asked, sensing the mood shift.

“I can’t lose you. I just couldn’t survive–“

“Shhh,” she said silencing her with a kiss. Lips softened as seconds passed, warmth spreading. Cynthia’s futa cock decided to join the party. It unrolled from her inner thigh like a stirring snake on the hunt. “Umm, darling, are you trying to steal my nightstick?” she asked with a chuckle.

“Ha ha, don’t need to. Mine is bigger.”

You can pick up this future Library of Congress book-of-the-month nominee at Amazon. Click on It’s A Futa Life Book 2: Interruption.

It’s A Futa Life Book 1: Fresh Start LIVE

A Futa Life 1My latest series begins: It’s A Futa Life Book 1: Fresh Start. Cynthia is  attacked by bigoted thugs in Washington, DC. Fearful of another such event she flees the big city, opting for a small community in the Florida panhandle. No one knows her.She knows no one. Her new life will be a clean slate.

She meets Anna, a beautiful deputy sheriff. There’s a mutual attraction… and so we’re off on a new romance full of love and lust, pain and passion.


Cynthia suffered a horrifying experience at the hands of thugs merely because she is a futanari. Frightened of a repeat occurrence, possibly with mortal consequences, she flees the city of Washington, DC and heads for a small town in the Florida panhandle. It’s new. No one knows her, she knows no one. Here she can start anew and rebuild her life.

When she meets Anna, an attractive deputy sheriff, she feels an immediate attraction. It becomes quickly apparent that the feelings are mutual. Each are isolated in their own existence. Can they overcome their loneliness and make a success of what they have begun?

When a series of terroristic explosions involving the police come across the news, Cynthia is frantic with worry. She can’t reach Anna no matter how many times she calls. Is Anna alright, or is this romance to be nipped in the bud?


“This has been a wonderful day, Cynthia. Thanks for having me over.”

“It has been my pleasure. In the short time we’ve known each other I feel a real kinship.”

“Me, too. I’ve felt so isolated at work. All those blustery leering men around. To finally meet someone like you . . . sweet, gentle, loving . . . I feel my life becoming complete. I hope I’m not scaring you with my feelings,” Anna said, studying her face.

“Not at all. It’s been years since I have felt safe. Anywhere. Yet here, with you, I’m at peace.”

“I like that,” she said, smiling. Anna wrapped her arms around Cynthia’s waist and brushed her lips against her neck. She had a soapy smell from the shower combined with an odor of spices from cooking. Cynthia moaned softly and closed her eyes. Her hand caressed Anna’s breasts. Anna eased Cynthia back onto the mattress and loomed over her, looking into her eyes. Tears formed.

“Sorry,” Anna murmured, “it’s been a long time since I felt this way.”

“Me too, darling.”

Anna lifted Cynthia’s crop top over her head exposing her ample bosom. Her finger circled a nipple causing it to swell. She had discovered the left was much more sensitive than the right and used that in her ministrations. When one became too sensitive she switched, continuing the pleasure yet offering relief. After a short time white milk began leaking from the left. She smeared it around the areola, then dipped her head to lick at it. Cynthia responded by tangling her hand in Anna’s hair to pull tighter.

“So tasty,” Anna sighed. Cynthia smiled and mewled her happiness.

Anna’s hand found Cynthia’s jean shorts leg and followed the thigh to its juncture. Heat from the futa genitalia led her to a swollen clit. She pushed on it. It stood proud. As she pulsed against the tight nub Cynthia groaned deep in her chest, a rumbling sound of passion. A gush of honey oozed from the wet cunt coating Anna’s fingers. She brought the finger to her mouth and sucked noisily, licking between long fingers to get every drop.

Join in the first of several episodes at It’s A Futa Life Book 1: Fresh Start on Amazon. I promise you’ll sweat.

Trouble in V Land

AdobeStock_50031686-650x433Ma belle V is having problems adjusting to my… special friend. In case you don’t slavishly read my every textual utterance (and why aren’t you? I’m fucking interesting!), let me give a quick recap. When I moved from DC to a tiny town in Florida a small group of church ladies took me under their wing. I had no friends. I moved in cold. They were sweet, asked me to dinner and birthdays and other events. It kept me social, which I’m not. But I appreciated them and always have a good time with great food. (They are mostly Filipinas… cooking machines!)

Things went swimmingly for years when out of the blue one of them, V, asked if I would be interested in pursuing a romantic relationship. Well, yes and no. Yes, who doesn’t want a romantic relationship? I yearn so for companionship, love, all the usual stuff to be in my life. No, I had no idea she was (1) interested and (2) lesbian. And as it turned out, she had no idea I was a transwoman.

Our first physical encounter was interesting, to say the least. She batted that thing like it was a playtoy. And I guess in some ways it was although, thanks to my HRT, not too reliable. Haha. But she is, indeed, a lesbian and thus having a hard time reconciling her feelings toward men and my own vestigial equipment. (Oh god, I’ve never gotten to use that word before… vestigial. I love it!) No matter how many times and in various ways explained that I am, indeed a woman, despite my deformity, she just can’t grasp it.

While it is still ongoing she’s seeing me less and less and I have a feeling it will eventually die out. The arc of the relationship is going in the wrong direction. We’ve never lived together, only dated and horsed around. We’ll see. I’ve been alone for a long time. I can go the rest of my life alone. But don’t you think that life is so much more fun when you have someone to share it with, to hold when looking at a beautiful sunset, to marvel at a painting, a song? <sigh>

You Won’t Believe It

imagesSo there I was last night, sitting at my laptop having a lovely dance on Catalina Island with this beautiful, blond CD (in Second Life, sadly) when my doorbell rang. I opened the door and there stood my ex-priest. He asked if he could come in and, of course, ever the lady, I invited him in.

He said he was concerned over my sudden departure from the church. I had been such an active participant, an integral part of the community. He wondered what prompted my decision. I told him that the subject of his last few homilies had been personally offensive and I saw no reason to allow myself to be offended.

“Why? What offended you?” “Your diatribe about men in dresses.” (Yes dear readers, I actually used ‘diatribe’. I talk like that.) “But I was talking about those confused about their god-given gender.” “I understand, Father. I’m not confused. I KNOW I’m a woman.” Dead silence. Then you could see realization cross his face. Delicious!

Then the real reason comes out. “G_____ died last night. We’re having a funeral on Friday. Could you come back long enough to run that through?” (I am… was… the head of the bereavement committee)


That felt goooooooood. (Not about G_____, of course. He was a nice guy. But there is a whole group of ladies involved in the committee. They’ll be fine.)