©

This is a window into the sometimes strange, sometimes scary, often outrageous, and always fascinating mind of multi published multi award-winning author Stephanie Burke. This place is a mature place, so be lets keep it at the NC 17 rating, people! *g* Welcome and Enjoy!

Hump Day Hump Supplemental

Since everyone was patient while I was writing this… here’s a bit of How Not to Date a Changeling

 

 

There were no screams that night and Taylor couldn’t help but feel uneasy about it. If what he read in his searches was true, then no one could blame the poor woman from screaming her head off every night.

The next morning found him knocking on Cordelia’s door once more, a gentle soreness in his leg that spoke of rain and a cherry chocolate Bundt cake in hand.

“Nothing good will come of this,” Miss Winnie shouted, hustling past with her dog, both with their noses in the air. “Mark my words, young man! Mark my words!”

Taylor barely resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at the old biddy and instead turned and banged on Cordelia’s door like he was the narc’s trying to make a drug bust.

“Must you?” she snapped, swinging the front door open and stopping Taylor dead.

Today she was… Cordelia was beautiful.

Her long masses of kinky tangled curls flowed free around her face and body, a slim body that was sheathed in white silk that made her skin glow and her eyes pop.

“I must, I must,” he breathed, looking down as his cock gave a lurch toward the vision in white. Now may not be the time for an inappropriate stiffy, but it was more action that he had seen below the belt since his last attempt at masturbation a few days ago. He didn’t expect to see another erection for at least another month. Cool.

“Well now,” she purred and Taylor jerked his head up as he realized that Cordelia’s own gaze had followed his. “Look at what we have here.”

“I brought cake,” he stammered, feeling a slight flush heat his cheeks. It was all he could think tot say and it sounded stupid, but it was way better than having to apologize for the conduct of his spastic dick.

“Did you fuck it first?” she asked and his mouth dropped open. “I mean I have seen some strange reactions to chocolate cake, but if it what gets your motor running….”

She trailed off as she stepped outside and waved him in.

He bet she didn’t know her slip of a dress was see through in the sun, he thought as the golden sun saw fit to grant him an unknown fantasy as he saw Cordelia Snow naked under her clothing.

Her breasts were small and unfettered and as she shifted, he could make out dark colored nipples kissing the bodice of her dress. Her legs were long and lethal, slim but well muscled and he could make out the shadowy cleft between them.

Did she have? … Lord have mercy, she had a muff, a real muff.

So many women shaved everything off that he rarely saw anything resembling pubic hair these days. But it looked like Miss Cordelia had a neat trim patch o pubic hair and he found himself drooling, wanting to burry his face in it. It harkened back to his days of sneaking his foster father’s seventies style porn and watching as those hairy bushed women with their wild Farah Faucet do’s did things with their mouths that would leave most men drooling and most feminists reaching for their picket signs.

“Coming?”

“Faster than I may like,” he muttered as his memories and his reality clashed into one huge silken clad Changeling fantasy named Cordelia.

She arched an eyebrow but shook her head, probably thinking about human stupidity, but he dutifully stepped into her house and watched as she stepped in behind him, closing the door and killing the blessed light that allowed him to see more than what Ms. Snow had probably intended.

“I couldn’t help but notice the lack of screams last night,” he began as they again settled at the table, her pouring him a mug of that rancid tea that stopped the pain in his leg.

“Oh,” she purred and he nearly dropped his mug as realized just how sexy her voice really was. “Then the explosion didn’t kill your hearing.”

“What?” The press of her breasts against the silk fascinated him. Even thought he could no longer see her nipples, he swore there was a shadow of a nip right…

“I may be mistaken.”

He looked up and blinked, absently taking a sip of his tea them blanching as the flavor killed some of his recently absent desire. Damn tea.

“Are you deaf, laddy?”

“No, I can hear perfectly well—and I heard your distinct lack of screaming last night. What gives? I was getting used to the blood curdling screams.”

“Edits are done.”

“Miss Winnie said you were a writer—“

“That nosey bitch?” she snorted, rolling her eyes. “If she read what I wrote, I am sure her processed hair would curl tighter than it already is.”

“That is a pretty neat ‘fro she got going for a white girl,” Taylor chuckled.

“And the rainbow colors,” Cordelia sniffed. “I feel sorry for the dog. It must burn his ass getting it dyed so many colors to math his simpering fool of a mistress.”

“So—edits?”

“I write smut.”

He blinked at that and then grinned, his cock perking up from where the taste of the tea had beaten it back. “Smut? You don’t say?”

“I like to write about what I am not getting.”

“Oh, you could get it if you wanted it,” he pointed out but all amusement stopped with her frown.

“Are you blind?” she snapped, crossing her arms as she glared at him.

“Nope, you are attractive—“

“You took one look at me and knew I wasn’t human.”

“I am not really sure that you aren’t,” he confided. “But that wind thing is kind if proof positive—“

“I’ll not have jokes coming from the likes of you,” she growled, her eyes narrowed into angry glittering jewels.

“I am not joking—“

“If my human parents reacted the way they did when I was in their cradle, what makes you think that adult humans with no real love for me, being powered only by lust would do to something as unnatural as I?”

“But,” he answered. “But you are beautiful.”

“I am not human.”

“But you are beautiful.”

“I am too thin, to long, too oddly formed, Lieutenant Colonel retired. And I refuse to be hurt again.”

“Call me Taylor,” he insisted, placing his mug down in the table and looking her right in the eyes as he spoke his next words. “And you are hot.”

She narrowed her eyes at him and reached for her own mug of tea. She swilled it back like it was a shot whiskey before reaching for the cake that sat on the table. Still holding his gaze, she opened her mouth… wider and wider unnaturally wide until she could shove the whole friggin’ cake in there. Then with one gulp, the cake was gone and her neck distended as the whole thing slid down the slim shaft.

She inhaled once before blinking, a smile tugging at her lips as she dared him to say something.

“That was so fucking hot,” he breathed, making her blink in amazement then look at his crotch for confirmation.

Yup, little Taylor was standing at full salute and waving a bit at her.

She ripped her eyes form his crotch back up to his face as he stared at her in dazed amazement. “No gag reflex, huh?”

“I just swallowed a whole cake, you daft bugger!”

“Without choking,” he purred. “I like that.”

“You are insane!”

“And you write smut—do tell?”

 

***

Taylor knew he was like a kid in a candy store, bouncing all along the walls off Cordelia’s office, but he had never been in the domain of a real writer before.

It was like some kind if magical mystical place, even thought he could see it was only a desk with a computer, a few comfortable chairs, and lots of paper taped to the walls.

“So you create here?”

“Obviously,” Cordelia still hadn’t put on any more clothing and seeing her sit at her desk with her bare feet tucked under her made him want to nibble at her toes.

He didn’t have a foot fetish, but he bet he could get her to squeal and whimper if he teased her just right. The thought of her writing back in her chair, her thighs resting against his neck as he buried his face in her snatch… oh yeah. Erotica was good.

“So… what do you create?”

“I create worlds Lieutenant, worlds greater then the piece of shit one we live in now.”

“I wouldn’t go that far…”

“Did you research what I am?”

“Yes—“

“Then you know what they did to me.”

He nodded.

“And knowing that, how can you say that this world is nothing more than a piece of offal waiting to decompose and hopefully grow something useful when all the pricks on it rot away?”

“Not all of us are asses.”

“True, but you asked me what I create. I create worlds where people who are different can live in peace, where there is always a happy ending, and where anyone can loose themselves for a little time.”

“And the sex. You said you write smut. Why do you write that? I understand the better world thing. I am not in your position, but I feel you on that one. But smut?”

“I write what I want to have, Lieutenant oblivious. And what does that tell you?”

“You want… the fantasy dream lover?”

“No, you ass.” She snapped rolling her eyes before crossing her arms in a huff. I want hot sex.”

“So go and get it!”

“I can’t.” she sounded exasperated and Taylor was really confused. Getting laid was one of the easiest things a woman could do. She only had to point to an unattached male and scream ‘come and get it’, and she would be getting plowed in no time.

“Why not?”

“Because I am ugly and disgusting, and there is nothing that you or anyone else on this fucking planet can do about it.”

“You are not ugly or disgusting,” he pointed to his crotch. “Really. Proof positive.”

“Well, we’ve already proven that you don’t have he sense God gave a goose, haven’t we?”

“I am smart,” he snapped, narrowing his eyes at her. “I have a masters and everything.”

“Then why is it that you can’t see things from my point of view? I am too different, to strange—“
“Exotic,” he offered and smiled when she frowned. That small pout made his dick throb and a small spurt of precum leak from its tip. He absently reached down to adjust himself and eyed her up and down.

“Alien,” she countered.

“Not too alien,” he grinned. “Unless you are hiding tentacles under that robe. But from what I could see from your little display this morning, you aren’t hiding much of anything under there, are you?”

She pouted harder and he felt a steady head grow at the base of his cock. “Just really exotic.”

“I am a curiosity to you,” she snorted. “You had a few brushes with the paranormal and now you want to take one of us for a test drive.”

“Why not?” he asked, stepping closer to her. “You want to take me for a spin.”

“I never—“

“You let me in.”

“You were banging on my door, fit to raise the dead!”

“You haven’t blown me out with your unseen wind.”

“Cause that takes too much energy and I had edits to finish.”

“You are my cake.”

“You irritated me.”

“You want me.”

“I do—“

“You are practically naked right in front of me and you like to see my dick all swollen and hard for want of you.”

She paused, a slight flush covering her cheeks and trailing down her long long neck.

“Nothing to say?”

“I mayhap… have a small curiosity—“

“Oh, so now I am the curiosity? What? You want to try a little human out, see how we compare to whatever you were getting before?”

“Nothing,”

“Pardon me?”

“I was getting nothing before, Lieutenant. I was getting nothing. Who wants to lay with this?”

She stood and allowed her silken dress to slide off her shoulders and pool at her feet as she spun around, her back to him.

And Taylor felt his anger grow anew as he saw the patchwork scaring along her back.

“Hot water,” she spoke as she pulled her hair to one side, offering him the full show. “I remember the hot water. And there were fireplace pokers, all hot. I remember screaming for them to stop, but on one ever did. They were disappointed that no one came for me, for the little changeling child. They wanted their own precious darling back and they beat me, and burned me, and starved me until they were sure my real parents would return their own little one. But it never happened.”

She crossed her arms in front of her, hiding her small breasts as she faced him.

“And they starved me. They said I was too hungry, that I ate too much, that I was starving the rest of them so there were days when I didn’t eat.”

“My God—“

The scaring on her back wrapped around to her chest, dark orange slashes that made up a patchwork quilt of skin that had seen too much damage.

“So they switched me when I cried, my nightmares filled with pain and hunger and heat. They tried to drown me once, but a neighbor told them that if I died, they would never get their own little on e back in return, so they went back to beating me.”

She looked up, her large green eyes calm, not really angry anymore, just resigned.

“And when I grew smarter than them, than their others children, they called it the work of the devil and had priests baptize me. They expected the water to burn, but it did nothing and the priests congratulated them n rearing such a pious young lady. Pious indeed,” she sniffed.

“Then one day, my real parents came back. They told me of what I was and where my counterpart happened to be.” Her lips took on a wry twist as she shook her head. “The little bitch became consort to the fae king and he would not have her returned. But to make up for the abuse, my real parents slaughtered the ones who reared me and sent me packing here to America, as they needed only one daughter. And here I stayed, making my way with the gold they gave, knowing that I was too different, to alien, to odd to ever be taken seriously.”

“They are fools,” Taylor snapped, stepping close to her, wrapping her warm body in his arms. That she topped him by an inch made no difference. She felt small and delicate in his arms and he wanted her now more than ever.

“I dated a few times, and that always ended in disaster, Lieutenant. I am great to date as an oddity, but no one really wants the girl. So I create worlds where the girl gets what she wants. I create the hot sex that I have never had. I crate a place where I can loose myself… and then you had to come along.”

She stiffened in his arms and Taylor eased back. “Me?”

“You with your chocolate and your sexy body—“

“Sexy? Are you blind now?” he snorted, releasing her fully and stepping back to peer into her face. “I am covered in scars and quite a few nightmares of their own. I am sure the woman of my dreams would love to wake up being strangled by me in a trauma related night terror. And lets not forget my sexy legs. I am sure any woman will get erotic bliss out of a finicky dick and muscle spasms. I look dead sexy when I flop on the floor trying to reach my drugs before I curl up in a ball of weeping pain. Really manly, that.”

“You don’t know—“

“Know that I have just about cashed in my ticket for the happiness train? Yeah, I know that, Ms. Snow. I know that my girl took one look at the mess of my leg and decided that she wasn’t taking care of an invalid and moved on to greener pastures. I know that my night screaming and maybe the time I knocked her across the room while trapped in a nightmare may have had helped her decision along a little. You are looking at a cripple, lady, one guaranteed never to have a normal life again. Tell me what woman would want that?”

“Me.”

He froze, tossing off the last of his momentary self-hatred, and stared into her serious green eyes. Yup, she meant her uttered word and he could feel the her confidence in her answer blaze into his brain as she reached up and ran a curious finger over his face. Then she repeated herself. “Me.”

The Taylor Martin said the only thing he could, the only thing that made sense at the moment.

“Oh.”

 

0 notes · reblog







How Not to Date an Alien!
 
One must always determine what type of alien one is trying to date. It would not bode well for you as a human if you chose a flesh-eating Scrimtat from Veta Belga. That would give a whole new meaning to the term “dinner date.” As these creatures are very dangerous, it is best to avoid them at all costs.“You have antennas.”Kilana peered closely at the man who was resting rather comfortably beside her on her bed. Somehow, he made the huge California King feel like a college dorm twin.“And you do not,” he helpfully pointed out, with a black-lipped grin that made his spiky white teeth look all the more deadly.And, of all things, his long black hair was tied back into a braid that seemed to snake around his firm, pale body. His eyes were a solid black, too, and she was sure if she weren’t so hung over, she would probably be screaming bloody murder right about now.And the man was naked.There was only one explanation for this phenomenon. She was still drunk.“I’m going to close my eyes and count to ten,” she whispered, her head not willing to take even the shock of her own voice raised to a normal conversational tone. “And when I open them, you are not going to be here. Do you understand?”He nodded his head sadly, pouting a bit. But she hardened her heart. She didn’t have time for imaginary beings in her bed. She was a newly divorced woman, and she had things to do.Like maybe wake up sober and get her divorce papers framed and gilded.She peered at him again and had to blink fast and swallow hard. He had the biggest eyes she had ever seen. Those large, liquid eyes were solid black; there was no white at all.It appeared that all the white seemed to have leaked out into his pale skin. It was kind of a molten silver, rather uncommon but certainly not too abnormal for a figment.But his head nodding was making her dizzy.“Don’t nod.” She swallowed again, holding onto a moan with the persistence of a clinging vine of ivy. “You’re making me seasick. God, you’d think that my own figment wouldn’t be so monochromatic as to cause seasickness. I thought I had more imagination.”So she closed her eyes, inhaled softly, exhaled long, and started counting.“One figment two many. Three reasons to never drink again four any reason. Five senses going crazy, and six is the devil’s number to remind me to stick to seven, heaven’s number, unless it is the number of tequila shots. I should not have eight the worm thing last night and nine martinis are more than enough, especially at ten dollars a glass.”She opened her eyes, but the very pale and very monochromatic creature was still lying next to her in bed.“You’re still here,” she moaned, dropping her head back onto the pillows.“Yes, I am,” he replied, before reaching out with one finger — one finger with the longest black fingernail she had ever seen. “And I will be here for a while.”He tapped her on the nose, and she knew her eyes were crossing as she stared at his finger, but that was one awesomely sharp-looking talon.“Doing what?” she asked, wondering if it was insanity to talk to an obviously drug-induced creature from her boring imagination.Maybe someone had slipped her Special K. Ketamine was said to produce very believable hallucinations in users. Maybe someone had slipped her some and had their wicked way with her prone, helpless body.Then again, maybe not.She thought about it for a second, and none of her girl parts seemed particularly sore. Her va-jay-jay felt normal and unused as usual. No odd taste in her mouth, other than stale beer and regret —“I am hunting.”“Yeah.” She scrunched her nose and thought for a moment. “That makes sense. Hunting, in my bed, while totally naked. Yes, that makes perfect sense.”He remained silent and smiling, showing off that mouth filled with fangs.“Okay, no, it doesn’t.” She winced at the lancing pain in her head. “What exactly are you supposed to be hunting in my bed at —” She glanced out the window, noting it was still night. “—o-dark-thirty? Tell me that, Mr. Monochromatic Figment of My Imagination.”“I am not a figment.” He stopped smiling. “And my coloring is very nice for my people. It is considered very attractive.”“I’ve hurt my figment’s feelings.” She groaned, rolled over and closed her eyes again in an attempt to make him go away. But when she opened her eyes, he was still there and waiting to speak.“I don’t have feelings in the way that you mean.” He pouted prettily.“Of course not,” she allowed, wondering when she had actually slipped around the bend into insanity.“And I am not a figment. I am a Scrimtat from Veta Belga.”“Scrimtat, sure,” she spoke around a yawn. “I can tell by your very black lips and your very black hair.”“My tongue is black, too. See?” And he stuck out the longest black, forked tongue this side of a freak show.“I can see why I dreamed you up.” Her voice went thready. “Each fork in your tongue operates individually?”She had to know. There were so many things she could imagine him doing with that, the clitoral pinch being just one of them.In response, he wiggled each side, then closed them in a pinching manner.Oh, yeah! Now, that’s what she was talking about!“Sweet,” she decided. “Good for your all-over clitoral stimulation needs. Now if your dick matches your tongue —”She could only hope! Really! If she was going to dream up naked men, then his carpet had better match his drapes, so to speak.He slid back, showing off a thick, ringed cock about the thickness of those novelty dildos one gives away at bachelorette parties. And it was solid black like his tongue and his lips. The four ribbed rings that surrounded the sloping head were a nice touch she congratulated herself on imagining.“I make good figments.” She grinned, then winced as her head began to pound. “I wonder if it’ll all fit?”“I am not a figment,” he repeated, one antenna drooping a bit as he sniffed at her.“Okay, imaginary adult-friend.”“I am alien to your planet, and I have come hunting.”“Okay,” she snorted. “I’ll bite, you crazy hallucination… figment… whatever. If you are an alien, what happened to the anal probe? My anus feels just fine.”“You are thinking of the Greens,” he sighed. “Odd creatures. Like you can find anything in a human’s digestive tract other than the wastes of what they just consumed.”“So what are you hunting?” she demanded, wondering if the drugs had driven her to insanity.“Humans,” he leered, licking his lips and fixing his gaze on her. “I am hunting humans.”“Right.” She tried not to laugh despite her hangover. “You’re such an entertaining figment. Sorry.” She raised one hand in a placating manner. “You’re an alien, right?” Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes as she settled back into her bed, ready for some sleep. “And the only human you see fit to hunt is a freshly divorced forty-year-old woman who just dumped two-hundred-thirty pounds of dead weight and needs to shed about ten more. Try again, imaginary alien. I know you’re a figment of my imagination, because there are much more probable females out there. So I’m going to close my eyes, and when I open them again, you will not be here.”And then the pale bastard went and did something that almost made her wet her panties.He rose up — well, floated upright — and hovered over the bed.The urge to vomit dissolved as she came to the realization that hallucinations rarely floated.And if they started floating, she would most certainly not feel the long black braid that smacked her in the face, smelling of vanilla musk and lemon.She blinked and attempted to sit up, her mouth dropping open as he rolled over so that he was floating directly above her, facing her. Those black lips had parted, showing her his dangerous-looking teeth.“Humans?” she squeaked, her flight or flight response dissolving as he reached out and ran a finger over her cheek, closing her mouth before his tongue slid out and ran along the side of her face.“Tasty,” he purred, his forked tongue snaking back into his mouth.And then something poked her in the belly.Oh, look, she thought, looking down at the dark erection that swelled and thickened until it was kissing her navel with its slanted head. The taste of me makes him hard. Or is it that it’s suppertime —She looked up once more look into those glassy black eyes and then the world, like her consciousness, fled.

How Not to Date an Alien!
 

One must always determine what type of alien one is trying to date. It would not bode well for you as a human if you chose a flesh-eating Scrimtat from Veta Belga. That would give a whole new meaning to the term “dinner date.” As these creatures are very dangerous, it is best to avoid them at all costs.

“You have antennas.”
Kilana peered closely at the man who was resting rather comfortably beside her on her bed. Somehow, he made the huge California King feel like a college dorm twin.
“And you do not,” he helpfully pointed out, with a black-lipped grin that made his spiky white teeth look all the more deadly.
And, of all things, his long black hair was tied back into a braid that seemed to snake around his firm, pale body. His eyes were a solid black, too, and she was sure if she weren’t so hung over, she would probably be screaming bloody murder right about now.
And the man was naked.
There was only one explanation for this phenomenon. She was still drunk.
“I’m going to close my eyes and count to ten,” she whispered, her head not willing to take even the shock of her own voice raised to a normal conversational tone. “And when I open them, you are not going to be here. Do you understand?”
He nodded his head sadly, pouting a bit. But she hardened her heart. She didn’t have time for imaginary beings in her bed. She was a newly divorced woman, and she had things to do.
Like maybe wake up sober and get her divorce papers framed and gilded.
She peered at him again and had to blink fast and swallow hard. He had the biggest eyes she had ever seen. Those large, liquid eyes were solid black; there was no white at all.
It appeared that all the white seemed to have leaked out into his pale skin. It was kind of a molten silver, rather uncommon but certainly not too abnormal for a figment.
But his head nodding was making her dizzy.
“Don’t nod.” She swallowed again, holding onto a moan with the persistence of a clinging vine of ivy. “You’re making me seasick. God, you’d think that my own figment wouldn’t be so monochromatic as to cause seasickness. I thought I had more imagination.”
So she closed her eyes, inhaled softly, exhaled long, and started counting.
“One figment two many. Three reasons to never drink again four any reason. Five senses going crazy, and six is the devil’s number to remind me to stick to seven, heaven’s number, unless it is the number of tequila shots. I should not have eight the worm thing last night and nine martinis are more than enough, especially at ten dollars a glass.”
She opened her eyes, but the very pale and very monochromatic creature was still lying next to her in bed.
“You’re still here,” she moaned, dropping her head back onto the pillows.
“Yes, I am,” he replied, before reaching out with one finger — one finger with the longest black fingernail she had ever seen. “And I will be here for a while.”
He tapped her on the nose, and she knew her eyes were crossing as she stared at his finger, but that was one awesomely sharp-looking talon.
“Doing what?” she asked, wondering if it was insanity to talk to an obviously drug-induced creature from her boring imagination.
Maybe someone had slipped her Special K. Ketamine was said to produce very believable hallucinations in users. Maybe someone had slipped her some and had their wicked way with her prone, helpless body.
Then again, maybe not.
She thought about it for a second, and none of her girl parts seemed particularly sore. Her va-jay-jay felt normal and unused as usual. No odd taste in her mouth, other than stale beer and regret —
“I am hunting.”
“Yeah.” She scrunched her nose and thought for a moment. “That makes sense. Hunting, in my bed, while totally naked. Yes, that makes perfect sense.”
He remained silent and smiling, showing off that mouth filled with fangs.
“Okay, no, it doesn’t.” She winced at the lancing pain in her head. “What exactly are you supposed to be hunting in my bed at —” She glanced out the window, noting it was still night. “—o-dark-thirty? Tell me that, Mr. Monochromatic Figment of My Imagination.”
“I am not a figment.” He stopped smiling. “And my coloring is very nice for my people. It is considered very attractive.”
“I’ve hurt my figment’s feelings.” She groaned, rolled over and closed her eyes again in an attempt to make him go away. But when she opened her eyes, he was still there and waiting to speak.
“I don’t have feelings in the way that you mean.” He pouted prettily.
“Of course not,” she allowed, wondering when she had actually slipped around the bend into insanity.
“And I am not a figment. I am a Scrimtat from Veta Belga.”
“Scrimtat, sure,” she spoke around a yawn. “I can tell by your very black lips and your very black hair.”
“My tongue is black, too. See?” And he stuck out the longest black, forked tongue this side of a freak show.
“I can see why I dreamed you up.” Her voice went thready. “Each fork in your tongue operates individually?”
She had to know. There were so many things she could imagine him doing with that, the clitoral pinch being just one of them.
In response, he wiggled each side, then closed them in a pinching manner.
Oh, yeah! Now, that’s what she was talking about!
“Sweet,” she decided. “Good for your all-over clitoral stimulation needs. Now if your dick matches your tongue —”
She could only hope! Really! If she was going to dream up naked men, then his carpet had better match his drapes, so to speak.
He slid back, showing off a thick, ringed cock about the thickness of those novelty dildos one gives away at bachelorette parties. And it was solid black like his tongue and his lips. The four ribbed rings that surrounded the sloping head were a nice touch she congratulated herself on imagining.
“I make good figments.” She grinned, then winced as her head began to pound. “I wonder if it’ll all fit?”
“I am not a figment,” he repeated, one antenna drooping a bit as he sniffed at her.
“Okay, imaginary adult-friend.”
“I am alien to your planet, and I have come hunting.”
“Okay,” she snorted. “I’ll bite, you crazy hallucination… figment… whatever. If you are an alien, what happened to the anal probe? My anus feels just fine.”
“You are thinking of the Greens,” he sighed. “Odd creatures. Like you can find anything in a human’s digestive tract other than the wastes of what they just consumed.”
“So what are you hunting?” she demanded, wondering if the drugs had driven her to insanity.
“Humans,” he leered, licking his lips and fixing his gaze on her. “I am hunting humans.”
“Right.” She tried not to laugh despite her hangover. “You’re such an entertaining figment. Sorry.” She raised one hand in a placating manner. “You’re an alien, right?” Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes as she settled back into her bed, ready for some sleep. “And the only human you see fit to hunt is a freshly divorced forty-year-old woman who just dumped two-hundred-thirty pounds of dead weight and needs to shed about ten more. Try again, imaginary alien. I know you’re a figment of my imagination, because there are much more probable females out there. So I’m going to close my eyes, and when I open them again, you will not be here.”
And then the pale bastard went and did something that almost made her wet her panties.
He rose up — well, floated upright — and hovered over the bed.
The urge to vomit dissolved as she came to the realization that hallucinations rarely floated.
And if they started floating, she would most certainly not feel the long black braid that smacked her in the face, smelling of vanilla musk and lemon.
She blinked and attempted to sit up, her mouth dropping open as he rolled over so that he was floating directly above her, facing her. Those black lips had parted, showing her his dangerous-looking teeth.
“Humans?” she squeaked, her flight or flight response dissolving as he reached out and ran a finger over her cheek, closing her mouth before his tongue slid out and ran along the side of her face.
“Tasty,” he purred, his forked tongue snaking back into his mouth.
And then something poked her in the belly.
Oh, look, she thought, looking down at the dark erection that swelled and thickened until it was kissing her navel with its slanted head. The taste of me makes him hard. Or is it that it’s suppertime —
She looked up once more look into those glassy black eyes and then the world, like her consciousness, fled.

Your Hump Day Hump… horsey style! LOLhere is a bit of How Not to Date a Centaur… from Changeling Press of course of course!!! LOL“Good Lord, I’m gonna die!”The wind stole her words and her breath as Kiara gripped the steering line and the toggle, desperately trying to control her descent.This was what she got for buying into some bargain basement parachuting course. Her instructor had bailed on her at the first sign of high wind trouble, leaving her on her lonesome to navigate her way down the side of an Angkor mountain. Hell if she knew which one, she’d been blown so far off course. The last thing she remembered was watching the yellow and blue parachute of her instructor just before he cut the fucking line that tethered her to him.And now, instead of enjoying the view of the lush green jungle being swallowed by the amazing temples that dotted the terrain, she was in free fall, struggling not to pass out, vomit, and well… die.“Lord, save me, and I swear I will never —”What the hell did she have to bargain with, anyway? She didn’t smoke, didn’t drink to excess, never had indiscriminate sex… the most wild thing she had ever done was take this trip and go on the fucking parachute jump her friends had recommended.“I won’t lie, Lord,” she muttered, holding in a scream as her body began to twirl like a top as her stabilizer line snapped. “I don’t have much to bargain with here, but I swear I will try to be a better perso — oh, fuck!’The side of a mountain was heading for her face at an alarming rate.Closing her eyes, not brave enough to face her own untimely death, she began to scream her way into the afterlife. Only… only she didn’t die. Instead she felt her ears pop, her body compress, and white light flash behind her eyes. But there was no painful slamming into the top of a mountain, there was no gut-wrenching pain, there was nothing but a sudden lurch and the worst wedgie she had ever experienced.“Son of a bitch!” she roared as she came to an abrupt stop, nearly biting her tongue in half as the jolt shook her whole body.Kiara Stone was a lot of things, but today made her a believer in a higher power and assured her there was some truth to the old adage “God looks out for drunkards and fools.” She was not drunk, so that would make her —“What the hell,” she panted, her heart nearly in her throat along with her stomach as she peeled her eyes open, unashamed of the tears that rolled down her cheeks.An odd sound captured her attention. She looked down and groaned. There were people down there. She was safe.She looked up and noted she was hung from a strange tree about thirty feet in the air. She looked down and realized the sound she heard were shouts of agony and war cries.Had she stumbled into some kind of reenactment? It had to be, because she was looking down at a group of men riding their horses so well they almost seemed to be one body. Maybe it was a movie, she reckoned. And as much as she would hate to ruin their shot, she wanted out of this tree.She looked around and saw one man below her. “Hey!” she shouted as loud as she could, but the riders seemed to be making too much noise for him to hear her. “Up here, buddy!”She didn’t even know if he spoke English — very few did here outside of tourist areas — but she had to try.Wielding a spear, he seemed to be creeping up behind another warrior who looked to be pulling on a young man trapped under his horse.She knew that if she couldn’t get his attention, Lord only knew how long she would be trapped in this tree. She began to twist and jerk in the tree, praying he would look up — that something would happen.What happened wasn’t what she expected. The branch that prevented her from slamming into the ground began to creak and whine. She looked up just as it gave a loud crack.“Fuck!” she wailed as once again she was plummeting to the earth.Hard impact broke her fall, and she realized she had landed on top of the spear guy. They both tumbled to the ground in a mass of hair, horse, and parachute.“I’m sorry,” she babbled in the sudden dark.A rending sound cut through the parachute and brought back the light. She blinked as she looked up and saw a man with white-blond hair and the most curious green contacts staring down at her.“Hi?” she offered.“Goddess,” he breathed, a look of awe crossing his face. “You have broken the back of my enemy.”A shout beside her made her jump as the sound of racing hoofbeats filled the air.“Xaylu.” Blondie turned to call to the man who approached. From her spot beneath the horse and the suddenly still man, all she could make out was black hair. “She has slain the warmonger and murderer Xexis. This war is ended.”There was a loud blast of some kind of horn and a lot of the noise disappeared. The sudden silence was as disturbing as the fact that the man she landed on was not moving.“Slain?” she asked, but her words were drowned out as a righteous cheer filled the air.“Retreat, you fools!” Blondie bellowed, his voice projecting well. “Your leader is slain. His mad desires perish with him. Continue to attack, and we will have no choice but to slay you all!”There was some murmuring, some shouts of disbelief, and Blondie began to speak again. “He fell sneaking up behind me in dishonorable combat. A goddess has fallen from the sky to prove our might and ensure our victory.Blondie bent over, and suddenly she was hefted from beneath the fallen horse guy and triumphantly thrust up into the air like a war prize. Her “hey!” was drowned out as several men retreated and others cheered.And it was right about then that she realized that she wasn’t being held up by a man on horseback as she’d supposed. She found herself speechless as she stared out on a sea of men who were their horses.“Centaurs,” she breathed, as Blondie spun around, his compact horse body moving gracefully as the black haired Centaur next to him, the one he’d called Xaylu, blew the horn again.“Victory!” he was screaming. His back tail and mane flying around his brown body, he danced about on black-stockinged feet.She looked down into the green eyes of the Centaur that held her aloft and realized he had a compact black body, his tail and stockings were a metallic white gold, and he was looking worshipfully up at her.“Goddess, I thank thee,” he intoned and Kiara found herself nodding, though she had to fight the numbness that held her body in its grasp to do so.Centaurs. She was surrounded by centaurs. She had fallen on a Centaur.“You’re — you’re welcome?” she stammered, and again a roar of victory filled the air. For the first time in her life, Kiara wished she was the type to faint because she could not believe what she was seeing. Centaurs. She had landed in a bunch of fucking centaurs.She wanted her money back.

Your Hump Day Hump… horsey style! LOL

here is a bit of How Not to Date a Centaur… from Changeling Press of course of course!!! LOL


“Good Lord, I’m gonna die!”
The wind stole her words and her breath as Kiara gripped the steering line and the toggle, desperately trying to control her descent.
This was what she got for buying into some bargain basement parachuting course. Her instructor had bailed on her at the first sign of high wind trouble, leaving her on her lonesome to navigate her way down the side of an Angkor mountain. Hell if she knew which one, she’d been blown so far off course. The last thing she remembered was watching the yellow and blue parachute of her instructor just before he cut the fucking line that tethered her to him.
And now, instead of enjoying the view of the lush green jungle being swallowed by the amazing temples that dotted the terrain, she was in free fall, struggling not to pass out, vomit, and well… die.
“Lord, save me, and I swear I will never —”
What the hell did she have to bargain with, anyway? She didn’t smoke, didn’t drink to excess, never had indiscriminate sex… the most wild thing she had ever done was take this trip and go on the fucking parachute jump her friends had recommended.
“I won’t lie, Lord,” she muttered, holding in a scream as her body began to twirl like a top as her stabilizer line snapped. “I don’t have much to bargain with here, but I swear I will try to be a better perso — oh, fuck!’
The side of a mountain was heading for her face at an alarming rate.
Closing her eyes, not brave enough to face her own untimely death, she began to scream her way into the afterlife. Only… only she didn’t die. Instead she felt her ears pop, her body compress, and white light flash behind her eyes. But there was no painful slamming into the top of a mountain, there was no gut-wrenching pain, there was nothing but a sudden lurch and the worst wedgie she had ever experienced.
“Son of a bitch!” she roared as she came to an abrupt stop, nearly biting her tongue in half as the jolt shook her whole body.
Kiara Stone was a lot of things, but today made her a believer in a higher power and assured her there was some truth to the old adage “God looks out for drunkards and fools.” She was not drunk, so that would make her —
“What the hell,” she panted, her heart nearly in her throat along with her stomach as she peeled her eyes open, unashamed of the tears that rolled down her cheeks.
An odd sound captured her attention. She looked down and groaned. There were people down there. She was safe.
She looked up and noted she was hung from a strange tree about thirty feet in the air. She looked down and realized the sound she heard were shouts of agony and war cries.
Had she stumbled into some kind of reenactment? It had to be, because she was looking down at a group of men riding their horses so well they almost seemed to be one body. Maybe it was a movie, she reckoned. And as much as she would hate to ruin their shot, she wanted out of this tree.
She looked around and saw one man below her. “Hey!” she shouted as loud as she could, but the riders seemed to be making too much noise for him to hear her. “Up here, buddy!”
She didn’t even know if he spoke English — very few did here outside of tourist areas — but she had to try.
Wielding a spear, he seemed to be creeping up behind another warrior who looked to be pulling on a young man trapped under his horse.
She knew that if she couldn’t get his attention, Lord only knew how long she would be trapped in this tree. She began to twist and jerk in the tree, praying he would look up — that something would happen.
What happened wasn’t what she expected. The branch that prevented her from slamming into the ground began to creak and whine. She looked up just as it gave a loud crack.
“Fuck!” she wailed as once again she was plummeting to the earth.
Hard impact broke her fall, and she realized she had landed on top of the spear guy. They both tumbled to the ground in a mass of hair, horse, and parachute.
“I’m sorry,” she babbled in the sudden dark.
A rending sound cut through the parachute and brought back the light. She blinked as she looked up and saw a man with white-blond hair and the most curious green contacts staring down at her.
“Hi?” she offered.
“Goddess,” he breathed, a look of awe crossing his face. “You have broken the back of my enemy.”
A shout beside her made her jump as the sound of racing hoofbeats filled the air.
“Xaylu.” Blondie turned to call to the man who approached. From her spot beneath the horse and the suddenly still man, all she could make out was black hair. “She has slain the warmonger and murderer Xexis. This war is ended.”
There was a loud blast of some kind of horn and a lot of the noise disappeared. The sudden silence was as disturbing as the fact that the man she landed on was not moving.
“Slain?” she asked, but her words were drowned out as a righteous cheer filled the air.
“Retreat, you fools!” Blondie bellowed, his voice projecting well. “Your leader is slain. His mad desires perish with him. Continue to attack, and we will have no choice but to slay you all!”
There was some murmuring, some shouts of disbelief, and Blondie began to speak again. “He fell sneaking up behind me in dishonorable combat. A goddess has fallen from the sky to prove our might and ensure our victory.
Blondie bent over, and suddenly she was hefted from beneath the fallen horse guy and triumphantly thrust up into the air like a war prize. Her “hey!” was drowned out as several men retreated and others cheered.
And it was right about then that she realized that she wasn’t being held up by a man on horseback as she’d supposed. She found herself speechless as she stared out on a sea of men who were their horses.
“Centaurs,” she breathed, as Blondie spun around, his compact horse body moving gracefully as the black haired Centaur next to him, the one he’d called Xaylu, blew the horn again.
“Victory!” he was screaming. His back tail and mane flying around his brown body, he danced about on black-stockinged feet.
She looked down into the green eyes of the Centaur that held her aloft and realized he had a compact black body, his tail and stockings were a metallic white gold, and he was looking worshipfully up at her.
“Goddess, I thank thee,” he intoned and Kiara found herself nodding, though she had to fight the numbness that held her body in its grasp to do so.
Centaurs. She was surrounded by centaurs. She had fallen on a Centaur.
“You’re — you’re welcome?” she stammered, and again a roar of victory filled the air. For the first time in her life, Kiara wished she was the type to faint because she could not believe what she was seeing. Centaurs. She had landed in a bunch of fucking centaurs.
She wanted her money back.

It’s Blogging Time!

The Massive Blog about What I have been doing lately….

Let me preface this by saying that I need memory help!!!

Not buying it? Hmm… How about the truth. I get overwhelmed and I forget. Time to get an assistant, I think, so I can remember to do these things! Anybody want to work for stories? It’s hard work but I have it on the greatest authority that I am cute and  entertaining… No takers, huh? Damn that Luring Minions Book. They lied! Sniffle! I have no minions and I am out of magic beans. LOL

That being said, on with the updates! *g*

I recently attended the Frederick Book Festival. It was the first time that this festival was being held and I hope they hold it for a great number of years to come.

It was kind of disorganized. I still don’t have my name tag, but I am chalking it to growing pains and leaving it at that.

The best things were I got to hang with Beautiful Trouble and its many wondrous authors and owners and Margret Riley from my beloved Changeling press came out to play.

It was cold and damp, but like the Avengers, we assembled early at the Frederick Fair Grounds and gave the place some attitude! LOL WE laughed, we joked, we handed out promo and got to attend a panel.

It was Diversity in Fiction and was immediately hijacked my us! LOL No lie, Jeanie, Jayah, Serenity King, and the rest of us actually spoke about the huge elephant in the room. A lot of diversity panels don’t get to the meat of several matters… like diversity doesn’t only mean black and white, it’s a relationship between people of any different racial and or cultural background. Yeah, like all those Sheik and Indian Romances we used to read as kids… and alien’s of course. *g* And if you think that the problems of diversity are at an end, just try to find a passionate interracial couple in a clench. You get tired of After School Special and Business hand shakes that pass for romance in the interracial level. Sheesh!

We cut out soon after for lunch at Longhorn Steakhouse and that was warm, and filling both emotionally and nutritionally. After that Den drove me home and poured me into a hot bath. But boy do I have memories! PJ Schyder was there, and John Monohan, and several other local authors I have not seen in a long time. I didn’t sell a single book, but I had re-connect time with my friends and that made it well worth the trip.

Lets hear it for Balticon….

Oh yeah! The four day marathon of panels, costuming, and fun!

Margret Riley came out for a two days, a record for her, believe me, and we had a blast! I met so many awesome authors there, and of course so many more friends. PJ Schnyder, Zan Rosin, Huge Casey, Rose and Dion Sims, Chris Stuppi and Wendi Dawn, Danielle Ackley –Mcphail… way too many to name here. And I got to be in The Avengers…and Schwarma After with The Usual Suspects. I was Nick Furry during the morning and Fury at the skit. I got to wear an eye patch and a tactical holster… too much fun and they actually made me say, “I want these Monkey-Fighting Nukes off my Monday-Friday plane!” Cackle!

The panes ranged from a shared Broad Universe Reading with Margret Riley to Alien Sex in Sci-Fi all the way to Using Comedy in Sci-Fi. I had awesome panelists and made many new friends and contacts.

Now I have survived the cons, the festivals, and the Graduations… My baby Dev has graduated high school and soon will be college bound… AND now I get a two-day break before we head off to Lori Foster’s Reader Author Get-Together. I am tired but content for now. But that just means insanity is waiting around the corner!

Books and WIP’s…

Out of Bounds from Total E Bound Press is up for pre order! WOOT! It is the worlds best anthology featuring the writing styling’s of  Cheryl Dragon, Megan Slayer, and me, Stephanie Burke! Check it out now!

http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?P_ID=2179&numCurrencyID=2

Two weeks and How Not to Date a Changeling will be away to my poor editor… KK, I am sooo soooo sorry! LOL

Still plugging away at How Not to Date a Bear, too!

Another chapter on Cold Burn… Ember is still holding on tightly…

Another chapter on Dragon’s Clutch… those damn dragons call to me

Nearly finished Green World… sniffle… death…

Working on an erotic omnibus with KT Pinto… review and edit before I send to her for approval…

Nothing on Murder of Ravens… I’ll get back to it…

And started a new novel about a serial killer… at my son’s graduation… what does that say about me? Sheesh!

Holy Shadow has a few new characters…..

Then I forced myself to stop lest I get overwhelmed again. Sigh. Such is my life! *G*

Flash

1 note · reblog

Third time just because! LOL LAst Hump of the Day… How Not to Date a Centaur! WOOT! Cause it just came out and it was a hit at Balticon!http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=2048How Not to Date a CentaurStephanie BurkeHow to date a pair of Centaurs? Get a good grip and hope for a long, bumpy ride.Good girl Kiara Stone only wanted to have a little fun for once in her life, and parachuting over Cambodia seemed like a thrill. But crash landing through a mountain and landing in the land of the centaurs was almost too much.Now she is their goddess and under the protection of two very regal male warrior partners, Zeethan and Xaylu, and struggling to learn a new culture as foreign to her as her ways are to them. Hopefully she can learn fast enough not to start a war, destroy their whole belief system, and learn to date a pair of centaurs, because it looks like there is no returning home.Chapter 1“Good Lord, I’m gonna die!”The wind stole her words and her breath as Kiara gripped the steering line and the toggle, desperately trying to control her descent.This was what she got for buying into some bargain basement parachuting course. Her instructor had bailed on her at the first sign of high wind trouble, leaving her on her lonesome to navigate her way down the side of an Angkor mountain. Hell if she knew which one, she’d been blown so far off course. The last thing she remembered was watching the yellow and blue parachute of her instructor just before he cut the fucking line that tethered her to him.And now, instead of enjoying the view of the lush green jungle being swallowed by the amazing temples that dotted the terrain, she was in free fall, struggling not to pass out, vomit, and well… die.“Lord, save me, and I swear I will never —”What the hell did she have to bargain with, anyway? She didn’t smoke, didn’t drink to excess, never had indiscriminate sex… the most wild thing she had ever done was take this trip and go on the fucking parachute jump her friends had recommended.“I won’t lie, Lord,” she muttered, holding in a scream as her body began to twirl like a top as her stabilizer line snapped. “I don’t have much to bargain with here, but I swear I will try to be a better perso — oh, fuck!’The side of a mountain was heading for her face at an alarming rate.Closing her eyes, not brave enough to face her own untimely death, she began to scream her way into the afterlife. Only… only she didn’t die. Instead she felt her ears pop, her body compress, and white light flash behind her eyes. But there was no painful slamming into the top of a mountain, there was no gut-wrenching pain, there was nothing but a sudden lurch and the worst wedgie she had ever experienced.“Son of a bitch!” she roared as she came to an abrupt stop, nearly biting her tongue in half as the jolt shook her whole body.Kiara Stone was a lot of things, but today made her a believer in a higher power and assured her there was some truth to the old adage “God looks out for drunkards and fools.” She was not drunk, so that would make her —“What the hell,” she panted, her heart nearly in her throat along with her stomach as she peeled her eyes open, unashamed of the tears that rolled down her cheeks.An odd sound captured her attention. She looked down and groaned. There were people down there. She was safe.She looked up and noted she was hung from a strange tree about thirty feet in the air. She looked down and realized the sound she heard were shouts of agony and war cries.Had she stumbled into some kind of reenactment? It had to be, because she was looking down at a group of men riding their horses so well they almost seemed to be one body. Maybe it was a movie, she reckoned. And as much as she would hate to ruin their shot, she wanted out of this tree.She looked around and saw one man below her. “Hey!” she shouted as loud as she could, but the riders seemed to be making too much noise for him to hear her. “Up here, buddy!”She didn’t even know if he spoke English — very few did here outside of tourist areas — but she had to try.Wielding a spear, he seemed to be creeping up behind another warrior who looked to be pulling on a young man trapped under his horse.She knew that if she couldn’t get his attention, Lord only knew how long she would be trapped in this tree. She began to twist and jerk in the tree, praying he would look up — that something would happen.What happened wasn’t what she expected. The branch that prevented her from slamming into the ground began to creak and whine. She looked up just as it gave a loud crack.“Fuck!” she wailed as once again she was plummeting to the earth.Hard impact broke her fall, and she realized she had landed on top of the spear guy. They both tumbled to the ground in a mass of hair, horse, and parachute.“I’m sorry,” she babbled in the sudden dark.A rending sound cut through the parachute and brought back the light. She blinked as she looked up and saw a man with white-blond hair and the most curious green contacts staring down at her.“Hi?” she offered.“Goddess,” he breathed, a look of awe crossing his face. “You have broken the back of my enemy.”A shout beside her made her jump as the sound of racing hoofbeats filled the air.“Xaylu.” Blondie turned to call to the man who approached. From her spot beneath the horse and the suddenly still man, all she could make out was black hair. “She has slain the warmonger and murderer Xexis. This war is ended.”There was a loud blast of some kind of horn and a lot of the noise disappeared. The sudden silence was as disturbing as the fact that the man she landed on was not moving.“Slain?” she asked, but her words were drowned out as a righteous cheer filled the air.“Retreat, you fools!” Blondie bellowed, his voice projecting well. “Your leader is slain. His mad desires perish with him. Continue to attack, and we will have no choice but to slay you all!”There was some murmuring, some shouts of disbelief, and Blondie began to speak again. “He fell sneaking up behind me in dishonorable combat. A goddess has fallen from the sky to prove our might and ensure our victory.Blondie bent over, and suddenly she was hefted from beneath the fallen horse guy and triumphantly thrust up into the air like a war prize. Her “hey!” was drowned out as several men retreated and others cheered.And it was right about then that she realized that she wasn’t being held up by a man on horseback as she’d supposed. She found herself speechless as she stared out on a sea of men who were their horses.“Centaurs,” she breathed, as Blondie spun around, his compact horse body moving gracefully as the black haired Centaur next to him, the one he’d called Xaylu, blew the horn again.“Victory!” he was screaming. His back tail and mane flying around his brown body, he danced about on black-stockinged feet.She looked down into the green eyes of the Centaur that held her aloft and realized he had a compact black body, his tail and stockings were a metallic white gold, and he was looking worshipfully up at her.“Goddess, I thank thee,” he intoned and Kiara found herself nodding, though she had to fight the numbness that held her body in its grasp to do so.Centaurs. She was surrounded by centaurs. She had fallen on a Centaur.“You’re — you’re welcome?” she stammered, and again a roar of victory filled the air. For the first time in her life, Kiara wished she was the type to faint because she could not believe what she was seeing. Centaurs. She had landed in a bunch of fucking centaurs.She wanted her money back.

Third time just because! LOL LAst Hump of the Day… How Not to Date a Centaur! WOOT! Cause it just came out and it was a hit at Balticon!

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=2048



How Not to Date a Centaur
Stephanie Burke

How to date a pair of Centaurs? Get a good grip and hope for a long, bumpy ride.

Good girl Kiara Stone only wanted to have a little fun for once in her life, and parachuting over Cambodia seemed like a thrill. But crash landing through a mountain and landing in the land of the centaurs was almost too much.

Now she is their goddess and under the protection of two very regal male warrior partners, Zeethan and Xaylu, and struggling to learn a new culture as foreign to her as her ways are to them. Hopefully she can learn fast enough not to start a war, destroy their whole belief system, and learn to date a pair of centaurs, because it looks like there is no returning home.
Chapter 1

“Good Lord, I’m gonna die!”
The wind stole her words and her breath as Kiara gripped the steering line and the toggle, desperately trying to control her descent.
This was what she got for buying into some bargain basement parachuting course. Her instructor had bailed on her at the first sign of high wind trouble, leaving her on her lonesome to navigate her way down the side of an Angkor mountain. Hell if she knew which one, she’d been blown so far off course. The last thing she remembered was watching the yellow and blue parachute of her instructor just before he cut the fucking line that tethered her to him.
And now, instead of enjoying the view of the lush green jungle being swallowed by the amazing temples that dotted the terrain, she was in free fall, struggling not to pass out, vomit, and well… die.
“Lord, save me, and I swear I will never —”
What the hell did she have to bargain with, anyway? She didn’t smoke, didn’t drink to excess, never had indiscriminate sex… the most wild thing she had ever done was take this trip and go on the fucking parachute jump her friends had recommended.
“I won’t lie, Lord,” she muttered, holding in a scream as her body began to twirl like a top as her stabilizer line snapped. “I don’t have much to bargain with here, but I swear I will try to be a better perso — oh, fuck!’
The side of a mountain was heading for her face at an alarming rate.
Closing her eyes, not brave enough to face her own untimely death, she began to scream her way into the afterlife. Only… only she didn’t die. Instead she felt her ears pop, her body compress, and white light flash behind her eyes. But there was no painful slamming into the top of a mountain, there was no gut-wrenching pain, there was nothing but a sudden lurch and the worst wedgie she had ever experienced.
“Son of a bitch!” she roared as she came to an abrupt stop, nearly biting her tongue in half as the jolt shook her whole body.
Kiara Stone was a lot of things, but today made her a believer in a higher power and assured her there was some truth to the old adage “God looks out for drunkards and fools.” She was not drunk, so that would make her —
“What the hell,” she panted, her heart nearly in her throat along with her stomach as she peeled her eyes open, unashamed of the tears that rolled down her cheeks.
An odd sound captured her attention. She looked down and groaned. There were people down there. She was safe.
She looked up and noted she was hung from a strange tree about thirty feet in the air. She looked down and realized the sound she heard were shouts of agony and war cries.
Had she stumbled into some kind of reenactment? It had to be, because she was looking down at a group of men riding their horses so well they almost seemed to be one body. Maybe it was a movie, she reckoned. And as much as she would hate to ruin their shot, she wanted out of this tree.
She looked around and saw one man below her. “Hey!” she shouted as loud as she could, but the riders seemed to be making too much noise for him to hear her. “Up here, buddy!”
She didn’t even know if he spoke English — very few did here outside of tourist areas — but she had to try.
Wielding a spear, he seemed to be creeping up behind another warrior who looked to be pulling on a young man trapped under his horse.
She knew that if she couldn’t get his attention, Lord only knew how long she would be trapped in this tree. She began to twist and jerk in the tree, praying he would look up — that something would happen.
What happened wasn’t what she expected. The branch that prevented her from slamming into the ground began to creak and whine. She looked up just as it gave a loud crack.
“Fuck!” she wailed as once again she was plummeting to the earth.
Hard impact broke her fall, and she realized she had landed on top of the spear guy. They both tumbled to the ground in a mass of hair, horse, and parachute.
“I’m sorry,” she babbled in the sudden dark.
A rending sound cut through the parachute and brought back the light. She blinked as she looked up and saw a man with white-blond hair and the most curious green contacts staring down at her.
“Hi?” she offered.
“Goddess,” he breathed, a look of awe crossing his face. “You have broken the back of my enemy.”
A shout beside her made her jump as the sound of racing hoofbeats filled the air.
“Xaylu.” Blondie turned to call to the man who approached. From her spot beneath the horse and the suddenly still man, all she could make out was black hair. “She has slain the warmonger and murderer Xexis. This war is ended.”
There was a loud blast of some kind of horn and a lot of the noise disappeared. The sudden silence was as disturbing as the fact that the man she landed on was not moving.
“Slain?” she asked, but her words were drowned out as a righteous cheer filled the air.
“Retreat, you fools!” Blondie bellowed, his voice projecting well. “Your leader is slain. His mad desires perish with him. Continue to attack, and we will have no choice but to slay you all!”
There was some murmuring, some shouts of disbelief, and Blondie began to speak again. “He fell sneaking up behind me in dishonorable combat. A goddess has fallen from the sky to prove our might and ensure our victory.
Blondie bent over, and suddenly she was hefted from beneath the fallen horse guy and triumphantly thrust up into the air like a war prize. Her “hey!” was drowned out as several men retreated and others cheered.
And it was right about then that she realized that she wasn’t being held up by a man on horseback as she’d supposed. She found herself speechless as she stared out on a sea of men who were their horses.
“Centaurs,” she breathed, as Blondie spun around, his compact horse body moving gracefully as the black haired Centaur next to him, the one he’d called Xaylu, blew the horn again.
“Victory!” he was screaming. His back tail and mane flying around his brown body, he danced about on black-stockinged feet.
She looked down into the green eyes of the Centaur that held her aloft and realized he had a compact black body, his tail and stockings were a metallic white gold, and he was looking worshipfully up at her.
“Goddess, I thank thee,” he intoned and Kiara found herself nodding, though she had to fight the numbness that held her body in its grasp to do so.
Centaurs. She was surrounded by centaurs. She had fallen on a Centaur.
“You’re — you’re welcome?” she stammered, and again a roar of victory filled the air. For the first time in her life, Kiara wished she was the type to faint because she could not believe what she was seeing. Centaurs. She had landed in a bunch of fucking centaurs.
She wanted her money back.

Hump Day Supplemental…

Cause I love you all so much… here is another Hump for your day! How Not to Date a Bear Too… an unedited two chapters….

How Not To Date A Bear, Too!

Chapter 1

“Unnnn—that feels so good…”
Theodore Bazanov, Keeper of Heritage and second in command of the Great Bear Clan if Manitoba shifted his ass just soo and groaned in pleasure he could not hide.
His whole body shuddered as it hit the perfect stop. He squeezed his eyes closed and prayed he wouldn’t be too sore after, but this hardness, this thick mass… it was too good to stop. Almost there… almost there… almost—
“Ohh, look at what we have here—“
The lascivious tone made Theo’s eyes open with a snap, bringing him back to a sudden and angering awareness. 
Snarling, he turned from the tree he was using to try and reach that infuriating itch in the small of his back, to glare at the-
What the hell?
It was female, that much he could make out.
But she—um… She had bright red hair that glowed in swirls and curls around her head, giving her an almost bloody halo in the noonday sun. Her skin was a strange orange tan color, the shade of some old leathers he once owned… usually a tone not found on healthy human skin. Her eyes were a vibrant unnatural blue that seemed to have laser intensity.
Something in him recoiled at the sight of her; his flight or fight instincts taking a definite turn for fight. For the first time in his life since he reached adulthood, Theo felt like prey and his bear didn’t like it one but.
He shuffled back, lumbering on two powerful hind legs, his black eyes never leaving the face of the she-beast who was moving closer.
“Come back, little bear.” She walled, waving her arms, her unnaturally large brass not swaying at all with her movements. Then her voice got deep, a unmistakable sexual overtone taking over. “I only want to pet you.”
Fuck no, he thought before he turned tail and ran. There was only so much a male in his position was supposed to put up with and degenerate middle-aged women were not part of the plan.
“I’m gonna get ya, catch ya,” she said merrily as she gave chase. “And then I’m gonna eat ya.”
Not if I can help it, his mind yowled as he sped up, putting more distance between him and the woman. How could she run so fast in five inch heels?
“Come back, little polar bear,” she panted, gaining ground. “I want to talk to you.”
Fuck no, his mind supplied and he doubled his speed once more.
But the she beast was not giving up. In her tight Capri pants and the red/orange lace tank top, she was gaining. She was moving so fast that her feet became a blur of crystal shoes and ten tiny lights from the red/orange toe nail polish she was sporting. She reached out for him, her fingernails like black talons and he suddenly broke right, hoping to dodge her.
“No fair!” she wailed, skidding to a halt, tossing up torn vegetation and soil into the air. “Momma doesn’t like her pets to play games.” The bitch wasn’t even out of breath.
Shaking his head in dismay, Theo raced ahead, using the small pause his sudden direction change had given her to extend the distance between the two of them. And still, she was not giving up.
“Frisky,” she growled, bending low, almost like a cartoon character or an animated ninja as she ran, rapidly closing the distance between he two ofß them.
Fuck this, his horrified mind screamed as he tossed off all façade of a real bear and began to use his preternatural strength.
His four paws pounded the ground, eating the terrain before him as he scouted the best place to run and hide. He was on Clan land so him using his bear abilities would not shock an of the natives.
“That’s my bear!” he heard and looked over his shoulder, agog as the strange female was catching up… in her high heels… and her blinding bright toenails.
He was so distracted by the sight that only instinct had him swirling around a figure that suddenly appeared before him.
He automatically dodged, nearly tripping over his hind legs as the man… beast… creature… mountie, his dwindling facilities supplied, jerked on his reins to control his rearing horse.
Oh, and what a mountie, he decided as he regained his balance and spied the man and horse.
He was beautiful, his long black hair flowing in the breeze like in some Hollywood western. This thighs, thick and muscular clamped down on the saddle as he rose to stand in the stirrups. His was rounded perfection and he could see the muscles strain under his tight red jacket.
Dark brown eyes held his for an impossibly long second when the earth seemed to stand still and…
“Fuzzy Wuzzy!”
The bitch was back,
He was about to pour on the speed and get out of dodge when a deep gravely voice halted him in his tracks.
“This is protected land. You do not belong here.”
Say what?
Theo spun around to see the Mountie placing himself between him and the crazy lade, stopping her in her tracks.
“What?”
“Protected land,” he spoke again, his horse dancing in agitation. “You don’t belong.”
“But I only wanted to pet him—“
“Ma’am, these are protected shifter lands. I am going to have to ask you to leave or bring you in on violation of Statute 557 of the Manitoba Shifter Agreement. The lands they hold are private and only with the proper authority may anyone other than the clan shifters of said land, be allowed to roam without impunity.”
And the crazy woman pouted.
“But I—“
“Get!” he snapped, leaning down to growl at her.
She got. She sniffed at the Mountie then turned on her heel, in a slow hog back the way she came.
Theo turned to look at his savior and felt his heat pound as the man winked at him before spinning around on his horse and riding off into the sunset.
Theo blinked his eyes and shook his head to clear it form any and all impure thoughts about naked horseback riding and its effect on the male ass before turning to lumber his way home.
The attack of the crazy lady was already fading from his mind as new fantasies involving leather and reins began to take hold. Maybe it was time for him to get laid?
Okay, that was the plan. He had been far too long in the company of Palm-etta and her five sisters. And now that Clan lands were established, the Clan Alpha was settled, and no one from he was some Theodore time. 
He would get cleaned up and head out to a haunt he hadn’t seen in some time, the Bear With Me, club, have a little drink and maybe pick up a little something for his empty bed at home.
That plan firmly in mind, Theo moved faster towards the Clan House, ready to get his evening started right.

Chapter 2

“Archer,” Theo called out as he walked into Bear With Me, a grin on his face and a plan in mind. “I need vodka!”
Phase one of his plans, get pleasantly buzzed. He was due. He had made sure his assigned duties had been handled, his package form home would be arriving in two days, and it was time to, as they say in the States, get loose.
Phase two, find something fresh and tender to sink his teeth into. Screaming and crying optional, but he must be a hard fun ride.
“You seem like a man with a lot on his mind.” Theo leaned back against the bar as Archer walked over, a tall frozen glass in his hand. He placed the vodka beside him and leaned his elbows on the varnished wood bar top, staring at him intently. “Want to talk about it?”
“My day,” Theo wrinkled his nose and gestured wildly with his hands for a moment, before shaking his head and reaching for his glass. “It started out with business,” His Russian accent was growing more pronounced as he relaxed in his friend’s company. “Business is good.”
“No repercussions from the Great Clan?”
“We are a Great Clan, Archer,” he shook his head and lifted his glass to his lips and tossed back half the clear cold liquid. “We remain a Great Clan, just one removed from stupidity.”
“No word?”
“Bah,” he waved his hand. “They are too busy practicing gorilla warfare on each other. You fear they will come here?” She chuckled at Archer’s shrug, watching as his long tail of hair slid over his shoulder to pile on the bar. He had the pleasure of Archer’s company on more than one occasion. It was an easy complications free arrangement they had. And as sure as he was that Archer would be up for another go, he was looking for someone different. “They wish us well, but silently pray we will fail. We are the first branch of Great Polar Bears to leave so completely. We are what we are.”
“That’s good,” Archer relaxed, tossing his tail of hair behind him. For a moment, Theo was long in thoughts of how the man growled when that rope of hair was pulled just so.
“You worry we bring war to your doorstep?”
“Nah,” Archer turned his head and winked at him. “Just wondering if I was gonna have to call in more back up and a lot of handcuffs.”
“Handcuffs would be good,” Theo nodded. “Undoubtedly, all the bears no matter the breed would wind up here seeking pleasure. You would need more help to keep the liquid cheer flowing.”
“You are a mess,” Archer laughed, tossing back his head, letting the rich deep sound roll through the room, relaxing Theo even more. 
“And I would make one of you, my friend, if I had not come here thinking to spread my wings a bit.
“Is that right?” Archer purred, leaning close enough that Theo could inhale the scent of his spicy cologne and the underlying scent of strong healthy male. 
“You know I could,” Theo murmured softly, a growl rumbling thought his voice.
“Oh I know you can,” Archer leaned back, his face flushed as arousal began to flood his body. “But that is not what neither you or I want. And there is someone I want you to meet.”
“Hmm?” Theo tiled his head to the side, his long black hair spilling in a silken fall over his shoulders. “Someone new?”
“New to you,” Archer chuckled. “Richard!” he stood upright and called. Theo got a glimpse of a person turning towards them, brad shoulders, trim waist, hair neatly braided in a long tail that touched the healthy curve of a nicely rounded ass. To Theo, Archer continued, “My friend and fellow—“
“I know you are here and I am not leaving to I find you.”
Archer’s words were interrupted by the club’s door slamming open and Theo was almost blinded by a mass of red.
“Miss—“ one of the bouncers walked over, but the lady in question started waving a membership card like it was a weapon. “Back you. I know my Fuzzy Wuzzy is in here and I’m going to find him.”
Theo’s mouth dropped open as the woman began sniffing at the shocked men in the club.
It was the same red orange lace tank top, the same tight dusty white Capri’s… the click of five inch heels— It was the crazy lady from before.
“Fuzzy Wuzzy!” she called, invading more than a few people’s personal space as she called out.
“Fuck,” Theo whimpered. “Hide me!” He turned and grabbed Archer’s thick forearms. “Get me out of here. The back way—“
But it was too late. The woman jerked to a halt, her nose tilting in the air as if scenting him.
“There,” she growled and started moving towards him with purpose.
“What the hell?” Archer gasped, backing away from Theo as if suddenly his friend picked up a particularly noxious smell.
“Don’t leave me!” Theo nearly whimpered, pushing aside that he was the second in a Great Clan of Polar Bears. There was some things that his mental facilities could not take.
“Man, you are on your own.” Archer was struggling to get away. “I don’t do cougars.”
“Fuzzy!” She was now close enough for Theo to see the odd golden eyes that seemed to glow.
“Uh—“
“I found you,” she cackled, her eyes narrowing where she saw his hands gripping Archer desperately. “You are mine,”
“I don’t even know you,” Theo whimpered as Archer nearly knocked himself off his feet jerking away.
“I can change that.”
“But—“
“No buts, Fuzzy Wuzzy. It took me all day to track you down. You are not getting away that easy.”
She lunged and Theo’s flight or flight instinct kicked in hard. He broke right, dodging as the strange woman nearly stuck the bar in her eagerness to get to him.
“Stop playing hard to get and come to momma,” she purred, spinning around and pinning him with a glance.
Theo looked around and none of the men and women in the place were offering him safe haven. Half of them weren’t even paying attention to what was going on and those that were had cell phones at the ready, taking video of his utter humiliation.
He wanted to knock the bitch out and run away, but instincts regarding females were clear. If you do not want to engage, run away fast. His bear would allow him to do no harm to a female.
“Stop fighting sugar,” she leaped for him again, painted back nails looking like talons as she literally sprung at him.
Panicking, Theo grabbed the first warm body beside him and suddenly was grateful for the concept of a meat shield that playing so many videogames had instilled within him.
He ducked down and peeked around the leather clad shoulders just as a thick braid of hair slapped him in the face.
He looked up, shock on his face as he scented something unique and utterly delicious.
He slowly rose to his feet and peered around the body to see the face.
What a beautiful glorious face.
His cheekbones were high, his skin a very creamy tan, like someone had added a bucked of yellow cream to a vat of red earth and lovingly blended the two tones. A pair of deep brown eyes looked back at him and a slow smile spread across a set of deep rose lips.
He was leaning in closer, his eyes at half mast, sniffing like a hound dog and unashamed of it when he felt something painfully grip his arm.
He lurched back, human hands with bear claws extended, ready to swat away the thing that was causing him pain when he was blinded by red.
“Mine.” The crazy bitch had him in her grasp and there was no way he could shake her off without causing her harm. He was so screwed.

0 notes · reblog

Its time for Your Hump Day Hump!

This is from the upcoming… as in I am still writing it, novel, How Not to Date a Changeling! I blame Barb Hicks and her Writerspace Chat Crew for this one too! LOL HEre is Taylor having a bad day….

“Life in the fast lane,” Taylor sang, tossing his head back and shaking his hips.
He was baking. In the last four days he had tried everything he could to get into that house. The note he left tapped to the door was found the next in the same envelope, torn to its bitty little prices and the noise was more intense that night. He tried sending flowers only to find the bouquet decapitated in their vase when he went back. The hello card was corrected for grammatical errors in red ink the next day and the noise sounded smug and spiteful that night. And his last attempt, a basket of breads was taken in and the mangled basket left on her front porch. It was a game to him now, to get his house unpacked and get to meet the strange neighbor. Baked goods was the closest that he had come so he was going to continue on that track. It was a personal goal to get ingot hat house and he was not above pulling out the hard stuff to get his way.
He swiveled his hips, all stripper sheik, his hips moving on point, and- hit the ground… hard.
“Fuck!” He bellowed as his bad knee clicked as it gave away, and he collapsed onto his side. If this pain had a color, it would be bright red with radiating white streaks of fire shooting up his thigh and down to his ankles. Hissing, he leaned over and gripped his knee with both hands as he writhed on the kitchen floor. Some abstract point of his mind was grateful that he decided to keep his living area on the first floor, reserving the second floor for guest rooms. And never was he more grateful when he realized that he didn’t have to navigate the stairs to get to his pain meds.
When the bright red of his knee dulled to an angry purple, he forced himself to move. Flipping over onto his back was e ought to make him curse again, but he refrained and forced himself to sit up. 
It was a blessing that his heavy butchers block kitchen table was strong enough to hold his weight as he struggled to get upright and on his feet. Silently, he blessed his theorist who insisted in indoor athletic shoes for traction because if he slipped again, he was going to wind up on his ass for the rest of the night.
Using the walls for balance, he ignored the deep throbbing that add itself to his knee party and the hot spot his left leg had become as he made his way to his bedroom.
The hope trunk at the foot of his bed was his goal. It had been a gift to him by his grandmother years before she passed and he treasured the trunk made of oak and dreams. Even now he loved the damn thing even thought it would never be used for its original purpose. Instead of being filled with baby clothing and tangible memories of the love of his life, it now held souvenirs of his battle to remain ambulatory and the gear needed to control his pain. There were no silks and stains, but there was a to get garment made of neoprene and steel that offered support and balance that was more powerful than any relationship he could have chosen to have,
He stumbled to the bed and sank down on the foot of it as he flung the trunk open. His knee brace, one of many, waited to embrace his leg and knee and offer what support it could. It took a few seconds to get the Velcro straps just right and then he signed as the swelling was checked as the cold neoprene surrounded his leg and thigh, keeping his knee cap centered while allowing motion.
Once he was properly strapped in, it was only a matter of making his way back to the kitchen for….
It was about them that the alarm on his oven went off.
“Fuck,” Taylor struggled to his feet, moving a fast as he could, which was not very fast considering, and tripped his way down to the kitchen. With every step, anger grew. He was out of a job, stuck in this house, and inundated with noise every night…. And now his knee was done and the fucking cake was burning. Moving so fast he nearly stumbled a time or two, he made it to the kitchen and over to the oven. He nearly burned himself on the oven door before He remembered to slip on his oven mitts. He ripped the chocolate mint cheesecake out of the oven and barely prevented himself from throwing it against a wall and watching it splatter in a bright beautiful mess… Just like his knee… Just like his life.
But he restrained himself. He dragged his bad leg behind him as he made Hiawatha to the cabinet that held his meds. He slammed the door open and stared at his unending supply of narcotics and pain meds while he decided how dumb he wanted to be that night. Was it a Percocet night which would numb his mind but not the pain, not really…. Or would Vicodin be the drug of the hour? It would numb the pain…and his mind, but that was a small price to pay for the ability to walk upright, right? Then there was oxy… Good old oxy, made you tremble likes rack head and drool in the corner, but he would feel nothing at all. That was good, right? Well, at least he still had a leg. Fuck the fact that the pain meds made taking a shit a bloody nightmare, literally. No, he could actually exist in a drugged haze until they threw his ass in rehab… Never mind his lack of a sex life, at least he had his health, somewhat. Forget about ever finding someone to sleep over for the night let alone start a relationship. Who wanted to sleep with a man who had flashbacks and nigh terrors that inevitably brought him awake standing whoever had the misfortune of being beside him. Who wanted to endure his scared up body and tendency to fall down when least expected? Who wanted a fucking cripple as their significant other? So instead of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness that he damn near died fighting for so others should have a normal life, his life now consisted of goals. To get out do the bed in the morning, he had to have a goal. Too keep fitting, he had to have a goal. And now, his motherfucking goal was to get into that god-damned house.
Taylor slammed the cabinet shut and absently grabbed the really nice cheesecake with his oven mitt and stormed towards the front door. Ignoring his usual outdoor shoes, he slung the front door open, his pain and anger carrying him forward. Limping, damn near dragging his leg behind him, he stormed up the path to the mad woman’s door. The setting sun told him that he had an hour or so before she would start her caterwauling. He had to hop on one leg to move up the two stairs that led to her front door. 
Blam Blam Blam
“I know you are there!” He bellowed, pounding the door so hard it shook on its mooring. “Look, you pitiless monster. For a week I’ve been playing nice, dealing with your fucking noises and bringing you gifts.”
“No!” He heard from behind and the less angry part of his brain recognized Miss Winnie.
He ignored her and pounded on the door again. “I bust my ass trying to be kind and you throw it up in my face. You take what I give and act like a feckless bitch. So you know what?” He hefted the cake pan high, eyeing her door. “You like my baked good so much you had to eat them all and fuck up my basket as a thank you. Well, I got something for you now. You’ve got five seconds too pen this fucking door or so help me I’m gonna smear this chocolate mint cheesecake that I so neighborly prepared for you all over your front door and then fuck you!”
“It’s not going to work and you… you’re going to get yourself killed,” Mis Winnie screamed and he slammed his hand down on the door once more.
“Five seconds! One…two… Three… Four… Fi-” and the door clicked open.
Taylor stood there, mouth hanging open, hand raised to strike the door. It was an obvious invitation, but dare he take it?
He looked over his shoulder at Miss Winnie and her purple tinted poodle that was glaring at him in abject disapproval, down to his swollen throbbing knee, and then back to the open door.
Goals needed to be met.
Slowly, he limped into the house.

2 notes · reblog

the-absolute-best-posts:

esslaurent:

likeafieldmouse:

Keng Lye - Alive without Breath (2013) - Hyperrealistic sea animals created using acrylics and epoxy resin, layer by layer

I THOUGHT THEY WERE REAL

This post has been featured on a 1000notes.com blog.

gemiblu:

recykle:


A boy sharing an umbrella with a deer

why do i love this so much

that’s some Miyazaki shit right there

gemiblu:

recykle:

A boy sharing an umbrella with a deer

why do i love this so much

that’s some Miyazaki shit right there