Anarchy for Beginners ... A Primer for the Inevitable

Tiffany and Start Trek Stuff and...stuff


The obligatory picture of someone I don't know named Tiffany

congratulations to me


no, I didn't get a million downloads yet, I'm only halfway there. But I got the next best thing to that: my PhD. I'm just bragging cause its a big deal and I already told everyone else. You guys are the last to know :))) someone has to be and that's how much i love you!


oh..kylie deleted "eyes wide open" today, in case you're wondering where it went. no explanation will be forthcoming. thanks.

Star Trek and the Holidays


Hi...I'm putting the second episode of Star Trek Season Five up. There's a prologue and eight chapters, so the prologue is going up alone at first, and daily posting of 2 chapters each for the next four days.

The story begibns after the cliffhanger ending of episode one, cause that sorta makes sense, right? Duh! I'm pretty hectic right now.

I was going back to the states for Christmas, but due to kind of unexpected circumstances, I find myself needing to go back sooner than that. I have a little meeting with my Department Chair and I'm buying a lot of chapstick for it :))) It's kinda the biggest deal of my life, more than marriage, more than bleeding myself out in a bathtub, this is serious. I'm kinda hyper.

So, we're taking off this Monday morning, very early and landing like ten minutes after wwe leave half a world away, thanks to the vagueries of time travel and daylight savings being over. It is right? My laptop says so, and I'll be enjoying Thanksgiving with friends and family. Getting fattened up for the slaughter. Ohhhh...Christmas is coming early this year! I'm excited. And I'll have Christmas to gloat...or cry, but I'm hoping for the former. And New Years I can get drunk and make resolutions I won't keep and...After that, back to the airport and back to work!

So, I'll be low profile. This story is my last post of 2008 to SOL.


About This Blog

This blog sucks


My New Me, My New Blog


I'm setting up an external blog for no other reason than I'm bored and I want an excuse for not writing fiction.
The other night (Monday, 01 December) I was rather inebriated. Intoxicated, you might say, with my success. I killed a few minutes telling the world about it and I must apologize to some of you. I was letting off some of the stress that had been building over the long summer. I wrote my doctoral thesis and it was published, paving the way for my dissertation and public defense of that same article.

Upon getting published I experienced an ominous calm, a dreadful silence really. Thankfully, having spent much of my adult life posting unwanted (and often unpopular) erotic fiction to sites like SOL, I'm used to getting little or no feedback. It seems, however, that unlike ham-fisted perverts who are simply too lazy to offer commentary, academics simply read slower. Doubtless they jerked off, sitting on their toilets with the latest professional journal quivering in their excited fingers as they pumped and pulled and otherwise rendered critical judgment on my life's work (to date)...And then they called and emailed and offered me opinion, fact, and irrelevant supposition. I was praised and flamed, often in the same breath, and it was quite an experience. Joan of Arc? Maybe not, but the allusion pleases me to no end. We all want to be martyrs for our beliefs.

When they said "...first week of December." I didn't know they meant the first goddamn day in December!

That hurt quite a lot, which was perhaps their intention, I'm not sure. I'm not usually so cynical. I lectured for a little over an hour and then fell back into a defensive posture I like to call "Stalingrad." It was cold and bloody and by the end of it we were all speaking German. Historical metaphors rarely make sense, so I don't even try. Somehow, by the end of a very long day with breaks for lunch, tea, and the occasional vomiting session in the restroom, I was deemed worthy of the honorific title "Doctor" and I shall be vested in mid-January. Myself and a number of others, live and on-stage before a captive audience just returned from the holidays and in hardly any sort of mood to clap politely and offer congratulations around a large bowl of meager punch.

Life continues. I continue. And I never really believed I would reach this point in my life. At one time it was the only thing I wanted. The goal that quite literally kept me alive. When I had no other reason, I had this, and now it really is mine. It begs the question that should have been asked, but never was...What am I supposed to do now?


what I did on my rainy vacation


blah blah blah

I didn't write anything, that's for sure, but I am working on my website and for the moment it is up and running and people have been asking where. Here...

Rachael Ross Archives

There are some stories there that you won't find here, but I have a whole directory called "fix me" with like 300 stories in it that I work on from time to time and someday I'll get those on my site too. For SOL readers, my web site doesn't offer a whole lot except a chance to wonder why I'm so weird. But feel free to take a look, it doesn't cost anything.

Ummm...what else?Oh! If you find broken links and you have opportunity and motive, let me know where. I'm sure I have some and I'm still running through the site myself, clicking on every link and making sure they work.

Anyway, that's what I'm doing and contrary to popular belief, I'm not really dead :)


"Family Enslaved" repost notes.


I'm rebuilding my websites, as some of you may or may not know and care. It's tedious and boring and caters to my obsessive-compulsive disorder like you wouldn't believe. It also affords me the opportunity to revisit older stories and groan at my mistakes.

Family Enslaved is a reasonably popular story, not so much on SOL where BDSM and incest are just to the left of mainstream appeal, but in general, Family Enslaved has proven itself enduring to sites catering to those particular interests…Makes sense, right?

Originally, it started as a single chapter posted to BDSM.yada-yada, I forget what it's called. The popular BDSM story site, anyway, it was called "Slave Daddy" and basically encompassed what is now chapter one and the first few hundred words of the twisty restaurant scene in chapter two. After a dozen emails and repeated requests for a continuation, rache sat down and cranked out fifteen more chapters over a rather pleasant week in Australia, if we remember correctly. That was not easy, I assure you, because Australia is a lot like Disneyworld. Except more funner. A LOT more funner and finding time to write was exceptionally difficult. Mostly I did it between 5am and 8am with a lot of coffee and aspirins.

Anyway, having just reread and edited the story in its entirety, we're reposting it to SOL and I thought I'd point out some things here. Trivial stuff that nobody cares about. You know.

One thing that I should explain, perhaps needlessly for real scholars of Rachael's work, is that the "Susan" and "Katrina" are the first versions of the "Keri" and "Eve" characters from the story "Secret Way of It" which is part of RBVS. We like to recycle characters a lot, looking for ways to make them better or just different and often times writing one story will lead directly to writing something seemingly unrelated, as it did in this case. Susan is the direct forebear of Keri and it's pretty obvious looking back at them side-by-side. Same thing with Katrina and Eve.

It's more interesting from a writing perspective, I suppose, but some readers could probably appreciate the connection. My own opinion has always been that most of my stories, and characters, are part of a larger, all encompassing storyline. They all inhabit the same universe and so I've never had problems referencing other characters and stories in our writing. Most often such things go unnoticed, but sometimes they're more evident.

Ummmm…We don't write a lot of "serious" BDSM for online publication, although at times it seems like I do. In reality there are only a few rache stories giving the subject a serious treatment. "Of Sand and Pipers" is the obvious one, of course, "Beautiful Purpose" as well and those are largely a true story anyway. I like drawing from my own experiences for such stories. "Family Enslaved" is another, although obviously it's complete fantasy, but we used it as a vehicle for philosophy, as much as anything else. Susan, the narrator, does an awful lot of explaining in the story. There's a ton of exposition about how and why she's doing something.

Much of what she says is subjective, meaning she's expressing opinions and rationale unique to her perspective, but nonetheless, she gives us a lot of information as to motive. Most of what she explains comes from me, which isn't always the case in our fiction, but that's why the writing is much more deliberate and precise in the story. Susan's "thing" is clarity and I have to confess that it's my thing as well. BDSM offers that for me and it was the main theme I wanted to explain through the story.

I'm not a Domme by any stretch, although I do Top for CBT. I'm usually meek and submissive and I like being the bottom. The nice thing is that being a Top or bottom really doesn't change anything, so far as understanding is concerned. I have to know and understand what my Top is doing and why before I can trust him and so I do feel confident taking that perspective for the narration. It also gives me a chance to create my idealized Top, which is fun. The perfect partner.

So that's what I was doing and where the story is coming from. It's over-the-top a little, plot-wise certainly, and the characters are all minor gods living among mortals, but that's the nature of fantasy. The writing is pretty good, very crisp and clean. For whatever reason I seem to slip into a different style when I do BDSM. It's almost clinical and detached emotionally and I struggle to overcome that. It's my need for clarity getting in the way of my intentions to entertain. I find myself worrying more over content and exposition than the story, unfortunately. But even so, it is a good read for people into incestuous BDSM and FemDom especially.

That's all I have to say about it. Look for version 1.1 when it reposts, I just added it to the queue a minute ago, so it should be up in a few hours or by the end of the day, when Lazeez finds time.

Anything else?



Public Notice #1031-08A


This notice is to inform the general public that Rachael Ross is now closed until further notice. This interruption of services directly impacts posts, reposts, reviews, emails, blogs, and active participation in any and all forums. Certain functions will continue through preprogrammed automated processes on this site.
Uziel wants to say something before she leaves…

"…and she was blue, huh?" Ricky grinned at me.

"With tits that taste like rootbeer!" Danny giggled and I frowned at them.

"Shut-up," I said.

"You're so full of it, Matt." Ricky slugged me in the arm.

"Fuck you!" I punched him in the thigh.

"Knock it off back there!" Mrs. Hailey, our English teacher, turned around from the whiteboard she was writing on. "Mr. Ford, is there a problem?"

She was staring at me and I shook my head.

"Good…Now, the difference between a simile and a metaphor is…"

Blah blah blah …I shoulda known better than to tell my friends about that blue chick I'd met Tuesday night. They hadn't believed any of it, of course, and now they wouldn't let it go. They were still virgins though, so what could you expect? I wasn't and even if nobody believed me, I knew the truth.

I'd gotten picked up when I was hitchhiking home by a blue chick with silver hair and golden eyes. A hot chick too, she was a babe. Her name was Six, which was weird, but I called her Sixy. She'd let me go all the way with her too, which was insanely cool. My girlfriend, Holly? She got uptight if I even tried to finger her pussy. But that blue girl? She sucked my dick!

Of course, I'd had to talk her into it, you know. I had to give her some Matt Ford charm and talk a lot of suave shit. She wanted to like get married or something. Chicks are like that though, so it wasn't a big deal. She'd cried when I left, telling me she loved me and all that, but she'd given me her virginity, so that was understandable. Everybody knows a girl sorta freaks out when you pop her cherry, but still…It wasn't like I was gonna really marry her!

I was just sixteen and even though she was a total babe, I still had a lot of stuff I wanted to do before getting married. My parents woulda killed me too!

"Uh, gee, Mom…Dad…I met a blue chick and we're gonna get married."

Duh! That wasn't gonna go too far. I'd probably get my ass grounded for a week and it was bad enough I couldn't even get a car until I got a job. If I got married? Oh man! I'd really need a job then and there wasn't any way I was gonna flip burgers my whole life. I don't care how hot the girl is.

I suppose I coulda knocked her up though. I mean, I did cum inside her and everything, but that wasn't my fault. She was like squeezing my dick with her pussy, begging me for my manly ball juice, see? If Six got herself pregnant? It was her fault, not mine. Every girl knows that if they go to the lake with a boy, something's gonna happen. She shoulda been taking some birth control pills if she wanted to fuck. I mean, it's her body, her baby, right? That's what my dad always says.

Halfway through English class there was a rapping on the classroom door. One of the kids who brown nosed in the school office was handing a note to Mrs. Hailey. That happened sometimes, usually when somebody's grandma died or whatever. I took advantage of the situation to punch Ricky in the thigh again.

"Matt Ford!" Mrs. Hailey looked at me and I sat up straight real quickly, figuring I was busted, and Ricky was muttering under his breath.

"Huh?" I looked at her and then I wondered for a second if it was my grandma who was dead.

"You need to go to the principal's office," the old teacher said.

"What? Why me?" I frowned. "What did I do?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "Just get your things…"

The kid who'd brought the note was a girl named Loni Hanson and she was only a ninth grader, but kinda hot anyway.

"Hey Loni," I smiled at her. "What's goin' on?"

"You're on the TV," she said with a grin.

"What?" I looked at her and we walked together towards the offices.

"What do you mean?"

"They're looking for you," she laughed, but wouldn't say anything else.

"Yeah, whatever," I rolled my eyes cause she thought it was funny, whatever it was.

"Go straight in, Matt," Mrs. Carlisle, the school secretary pointed towards the principal's office.

"Okay," I dropped my books on a chair.

"…to sources at the White House, the only message received so far has been a demand to, and I quote, ‘…surrender Matt Ford to the 312th Imperial Battle Fleet…' unquote."

"Who is Matt Ford?" the news guy in Atlanta wanted to know, and the reporter just shrugged.

"That's what everyone is asking, Bernie, and my sources say, whoever this Matt Ford is, we need to find him quickly."

The reported sounded serious and I just stood there watching the little television in the principal's office along with a dozen teachers, six students, and the janitor.

"We go now to the Pentagon, where Janice Copeland is standing by," the anchorman said. "Janice, what's happening where you are?"

"Well Bernie, it seems that the original report of a hundred spaceships was wrong…" the woman said a little breathlessly. "The Pentagon now says that there are over a thousand spacecraft in geo-stationary orbits around the globe."

"A thousand?" the black newsman narrowed his eyes.

"More than a thousand, that's right," she nodded. "They're broadcasting the same message in uh, French, German, Spanish…Chinese, Japanese…"

"And that's the message to surrender Matt Ford," Bernie nodded and he played with his left ear. "We're getting a transmission…Uh…Okay, we're…Apparently this is coming from one of the space ships…"

The television flickered and then filled with a rather benign looking man, older and dressed in a military uniform of some kind. He had a lot of medals anyway and he looked like a general, I guess. Except he was all blue, with silver hair and red, pupiless eyes.

"This is Admiral Seventy-Seven speaking to the peoples of Mars…Eh? What?" He leaned over and someone else, equally blue but younger, was whispering in the Admiral's ear.

"Right…" the admiral cleared his throat, "…I'm speaking to the peoples of Earth now, not as the commander of the 312th Imperial Battle Fleet, but as a man. As a father who loves his daughter…

"Oops!" I swallowed hard.

"Matt, there you are," the principal noticed me for the first time. "You have to go to Washington."

"I do?" I blinked at the man.

"They're sending a jet to get you," the principal grinned, like this was pretty funny. "I guess they're rounding up all the Matt Fords they can find."

"Uh…How many is that?" I wondered.

"I dunno, son," the Principal shrugged. "Whoever he is, you probably oughta be glad it isn't you."

"What?" I tried to figure that out.

"…So, I appeal to your better nature; surrender the man who took advantage of my daughter and spare your planet the needless pain and suffering of being blown to bits." The admiral smiled. "I'll give you twelve of your hours to deliver Matt Ford. Have a nice day."


It turns out there were about seventeen Matt Fords in the United States and a couple more in Canada, and we were all together at the White House, which was pretty cool. The oldest one was like a hundred or something, in a wheel chair and breathing air out of a scuba tank or something. The youngest one was three months old and his mom was holding him, and she looked terribly unhappy.

"Okay…I'm Dick and I'm the President's National Security Advisor," a man said, walking briskly into the room. "Which one of you guys raped the alien?"

We all just sorta looked at each other.

"Well, my son didn't do it," the mother said and the Dick guy waved at her.

"Come on, who did it?" he looked around.

"What, uh, what did she look like?" some guy asked. Well, his name was Matt, obviously, but you know what I mean. He was about 25 maybe and sorta scruffy looking.

"She was blue," Dick said, scrutinizing the man as everyone else moved away from him.

"Nah, wasn't me," Matt shook his head. "I picked up a Mexican chick the other night. Didn't rape her though and she wasn't nothing but pink, know what I mean?"

He grinned and Dick frowned.

"Come on…Which one of you guys…" Dick stared at all of us, talking slow and then his eyes fixed on me and I looked down quickly.

"I, uh…" I cleared my throat, "…We were out by the lake."

Everyone moved away from me.

"Was she blue?" Dick asked and I nodded. "Silver hair?" I nodded again. "Gold eyes too?"

"Yeah," I shrugged. "We just made out for awhile and…"

"Shit," Dick growled, like a dog on a bone and I looked up.

"I kinda told her, you know, I loved her," I said. "I didn't think her old man would come looking for me."

"Okay, you come with me," Dick said. "The rest of you…stay here."

I swallowed hard and followed Dick out of the room, down a hallway, and into another room. A round one and it looked sorta familiar, like from TV or movies or whatever.

"Matt Ford. We got him, Boss!" Dick said and the President of the United States let out a big sigh of relief.

I kinda didn't like the sound of that.

end of transmission.
Oct 31 2008 1027AM


The Secret Chapter 666

Mixed Bag End Notes


Well, it’s over. Thank goodness! I had a lot of fun and writing a chapter a day and posting every day for two months was quite a little exercise. A wee stretch of the mind and I’ll admit that sometimes I really had no idea what the heck I was gonna write, but it’s good practice and not something I’d want to do all the time.

I got some emails, one reader suggest I stop at a hundred chapters and then start "Mixed Bag Two" …Ummmm…Are you insane??? Heh!

I probably rushed the end a little bit and astute readers will no doubt be aware of that or maybe it’s just me. I really could have used another chapter for Priss, for sure, and probably an additional chapter for Sex Brat, just to explain that story better. But they’re okay, I think. This collection was never really serious, it was a fun thing and escapist entertainment and there weren’t a whole lot of secret messages. A few here and there, in Priss and certainly Imaginary Man was opinionated, I suppose. But in the main, t was really just intended to give us something to read every day for two months and just relax with and enjoy.

The last chapter of Tina, was a tough one for me. The hardest chapter to write and so it was the last one I did. I’m not an action/adventure writer, obviously. I don’t feel comfortable trying to write exciting scenes of physical confrontation. That’s why the story, the desert canyon scene, is what it is. I’m not ready to really try and push myself too far with it. I need to find some stories and read them and understand how the elements come together, because I just don’t really get it yet.

I deliberately with a graphic rape scene, the flashback that Mike relates to Tina. I think it was necessary and it should have been shocking and disturbing, I didn’t really want to try and excite anyone with it, obviously. But it is what the story is about, the vehicle that brings everyone and everything else together and so I think it had to be scene and it had to be as terrible as it could be or it would have been too abstract, too anti-climatic. Not having a big shootout at the canyon, the rape becomes the climax of the action.

After that, I decided to downplay the reunion of Tina and Emily for a variety of reasons. The biggest was simply that I didn’t want to end with too much sugar, or in a frivolous, storybook ending. I wanted Emily to be strong and a match for Tina, actually and kind of switch the two women where Emily actually comforts the Texas Ranger. Neither of them is weak, but they needed that balance, that relationship of equality and it alludes to their happy ending.

So those were my thoughts on Tina, which I just finished proofing 2 minutes ago, so it’s fresh.

The final chapter, which is really just a rant and not a story at all, I was going to post on the 31st for Halloween and end the collection with it, but it isn’t a strong contribution and I’d rather end with Tina than the story of Jack L. …I’m just going to put it in my blog and call it the rant that it is and let it go.

Okay? Thanks for reading and for all the great emails. A few people don’t like the format, but I got a lot of feedback from people who did enjoy it. That was rewarding for me and I think everyone who took the time to drop me their thoughts and encouragement. It was a long strange trip and now that it’s over I can get to work on the stuff I’ve been neglecting. Girl Fag is top of my list…I’ll be looking at that seriously after a brief retreat. I wanna grow my fingernails out again and do some karaoke.

Best always!


Adults Only
Mixed Bag - Chapter 666
The Lonesome Death of Jack L.
By rache


Story Codes: M/Solo, Mast, Angst
Author's Note: This is a fictional story dedicated to the person who called me 'Culturally Barren' whom I have named Jack L. and any resemblance to any other persons, events, or locations is purely coincidental. No animals were harmed during the writing of this story.
In the words of my old friend Jules, "Are you finished? Yeah? Well, allow me to retort…" -rr


The mornings were the worst. The surprise of it. Waking up as himself again, as if he'd had a good reason to believe he wouldn't. Jack L…Jack Lazarus rising from the dead. Not reincarnated at all. He'd been dreaming of his father again.

"Do you know what disappointment is, Jackie Lad?" His father always called him that. "It's when you see your kid grow a personality that you don't much care for." His father was fading fast with the sunrise. "That's real disappointment."

Jack sits on the toilet. Not because he needs to, but it gives him an excuse to read his book. He rubs his eyes, feeling the little flecks and bits of morning sleep like grains of sand across his tired face. He opens the book at random. It was his doctor's idea. His therapist, a real head shrinker. Jack L. for Lobotomy.

"Take this book and read a little every morning, Jack. Just read a page or two, not much, and think about it." He'd thrust a skinny paperback into Jack's unprepared hands. It was called 'The Lazy Man's Guide to Self-Help.'

Jack read it aloud, but softly, and his voice echoed off the porcelain and tiles and glass in his bathroom so that there were many voices and many Jack's and they talked all at once.

"Everyone is special. Everyone is unique. I am special and unique. I am a Listener. When I am listening to another person, I am proving my self-worth. It is a shared experience and builds a better world around me. It elevates and…" Jack read for five minutes and then stood, pulling up his boxers and flushing the toilet out of habit, rather than necessity.

"The best part of you ran down your mama's legs." Jack looks around, but the voice is gone. Nobody here but Jack L. "L for Lochia, don'tcha know!" The voice laughs and Jack looks at his book, frowning.

He replaces the book in the small wicker basket on the floor, alongside his old weather beaten copies of Hustler and Penthouse that he's thrown away several times, but always rescues later. They are his guides to self-help too, but he doesn't read them aloud. And they really don't help all that much either.

"She's special. She's unique. I'm special and unique and she wouldn't give me the time of day. I'm a Looker. When I'm looking at her, I'm worthless and immaterial. There is no experience, no world we could share. When I look at her, it lowers me…"

Jack licks his lips and puts his magazines out of his mind.

Jack stands in front of the mirror now. He isn't an ugly man. Nor is he particularly handsome. He is bland and mediocre and eminently forgettable. He stares at himself, memorizing his face and practicing his smiles, again on good advice from his doctor. He has a smile for almost any occasion now. Good news, greetings, and jokes that aren't particularly funny. "Hey Jack, what has four legs and gives blowjobs? You and your mother! Ha-ha-ha!" He has smiles for birthdays, weddings, and funerals, and even when he needs to be patronizing. He is particularly good at patronizing people with a smile and it's strikingly similar to his self-deprecating smile. That's the one he uses most.

Once his face is properly exercised he opens the medicine cabinet and reaches for his toothbrush, but it's the gun that draws his gaze. He isn't supposed to have it, he knows, but there it is all the same. Jack ignores his toothbrush and lifts the weapon carefully, massaging it in his hands. He closes the medicine chest so he can see himself holding the gun.

Sometimes Jack strikes poses with it.

"Jack L." he might say with his best British accent. "Jack License! Licensed to kill!" and he'll point the weapon this way and that, glancing at himself from the corner of his eye.

Other times he'll step back and look at the mirror. "Are you talking to me?" Jack shakes his head and tries again, wetting his fingers under the faucet and shoving them up his nose so he'll sound stuffed up. "Are you talking to me?" He looks around, arching his brows when he turns back to the mirror. "You talking to me? You must be talking to me, there ain't nobody else here!" and he pulls his gun up fast and grins at his reflection.

But today, he just holds it, looking at it. It feels good in his hands, molded just right for his fingers. He rubs it across his crotch and wishes his penis would get hard, just once.

"What's the matter, Jackie Boy? Can't get it up?" The voices echo, bouncing around the tiny room and converging in his head.

"What?" Jack looks around, blinking his eyes.

"You're a real specimen, lover. Homo Non-Erectus!" Her voice now and Jack covers his ears, pressing the gun painfully to his head.

"Jack L. Jack Love! Licensed to thrill." Jack strikes a pose against the woman's laughter, but his penis is limp and he frowns at it like a little boy.

"Get yourself some help, Jack," she says, with no small pleasure. "Get them cut off or something." Jack L…Jack Lobectomy, "Free at last," she giggles and Jack sighs and looks away for a moment.

"Do you know what you are?" Jack's reflection is smiling.

"Omnipotent." Jack holds up his gun, pointing it at the ceiling so his mirrored self can see it and admire its symbolic authority.

But the mirror isn't impressed and the smile changes, from good natured to cruel with just a slight pull of the upper lip. Jack has practiced this many times, knowing its effect on people. "No Jack, that's not right," the mirror chides him like a simple school boy. "You're just impotent, not omni at all."

"Sorry lover, its still 50 bucks." *POP* She's chewing bubblegum and Jack can smell the sugar. He hides his head under the pillow.

"That's okay, buddy," the man shrugs. "It can happy to anybody. You're still a great piece of ass." The door closes softly and Jack rolls over reaching for his pillow and wincing.

"Maybe girls like me aren't your thing." Jack stares at her Adam's apple, bobbing up and down as she talks. "I appreciate the blow job though. You're a real sweetie."

"Daddy?" His little girl waking up, feeling Jack's shadow under her nightgown. "Your little thingy tickles!" Jack slips out without a sound.

"On your knees, bitch!" Jack's Mistress is cruel and domineering, but she can't make his penis hard no matter how hard she hits it.

"You can hurt me if you want, Master." She's begging for it now, bound and helpless and willing. Jack rubs his penis frantically, but it hangs there. Not omni at all, even for someone eager to believe.

"Suck the gun, Jackie Lad!" The voices, bouncing around him, refracting around him now. "Go on, you've tried everything else. Don't be afraid…Suck the gun, laddie!"

And Jack has tried everything. But he never tried sucking the gun.

Jack looks at it, still in his hand. "Jack L." He looks into the mirror. "Jack Loaded. Jack loaded for Lust. Jack loaded but Lacking. Jack loaded and Lame. Jack Lost to everything and everyone." Jack Laughs.

He opens his eyes as wide as his mouth, staring at himself as he pushes the odd shape of the weapon between his teeth. "Just a pull now, Jackie Lad! Don't disappoint me again."

Jack sighs around the barrel and closes his eyes. Impotent meets Omnipotent for a drink. "How's it hangin'?" Omnipotent says with a smirk. "You should know," Impotent replies with a well practiced smile. And while Jack thinks of that, he pulls the trigger.


Jack's head jerks backward and he yanks the gun from his lips, cutting the roof of his mouth with the sight. He barely notices the sensation though, or even the small taste of blood. He's choking loudly, trying to cough and regurgitate the piece of plastic lodged in his throat. The rubber suction cup at the tip of the dart is way down in his airway, blocking it and bringing his bland body to sudden life. His lungs flex, heaving for air, and Jack drops the orange plastic pistol to the floor as he tries uselessly to give himself the Heimlich Maneuver.

Jack bounces off walls, crashing into little framed pictures of flowers and tea pots and kittens that his ex-wife loved and Jack hated. He breaks a towel rod and sends the aluminum clattering across the tiles. He spins around, clutching at his throat and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror: The self-deprecating smile of a man about to die a most inglorious death.

But his penis is hard now, finally jutting upright and proud and unnoticed even as Jack collapses. He's blue faced and sweating and staring at his toy gun, watching it grow dim until there's nothing left to see.


Mixed Bag Final TOC 103008


Mixed Bag - The Drama Never Stops!

Original Synopsis: A culturally barren author expresses her limitations through a succession of chapters in which the only commonality appears to be that they are all pornographic. Will her lack of urbane sophistication manifest itself in a paradoxical orgy of sophist didacticism, or will she merely ape the cardboard construct of a morally bankrupt culture unable to secern luxury from necessity?

Author's Note: This collection is being written off the cuff. I'm writing the three novellas simultaneously, along with whatever short stories I decide to pen and throw into the mix. It's helter skelter, chaotic, and a lot of fun for me. I understand that it isn't fun for everyone, but I've gone to every possible length to make it simple and easy for readers to keep up. If you still have a problem with this, then you probably have a problem with me, and we're both better off if you skip the stories altogether. There are a lot of great authors out there and I'm just a drop in a bucket. If you have any suggestions, other than "Post the stories separately, stupid!" please feel free to pass them along. I'd certainly appreciate hearing from you. The synopsis has been revised twice now as I refine my understanding of what I'm attempting. I really am making this up as I go along, you know. ~rr

Note: Chapter/Story Specific Author's Notes may be found elsewhere in this blog. They may contain spoilers. The Girl Fag Teaser is excerpted from the posted Chapter 43 of that story. The RBVS 2 Teaser is an excerpt from "Lazarus" and may or may not be revised, edited, and/or deleted in its entirety from the eventual finished manuscript. Star Trek: Season 5 Teaser is excerpted from Episode Three of that novel which will be posted separately at a later date by High School Sweetheart. Shoulders of Orion (25 Pairs II Teaser) is the prologue from that novel to be posted separately by T.S. Severe when she gets around to it.


(L-R) TS Severe, Lisa Oquias, Evil Little Sister

Mixed Bag ~ Table of Contents
Foreword by Matt the Big Ass Fucker

03 September:
Chapter 01 ~ The Long Wait For Tomorrow by Rachael Ross (M/F, Romance and another code)
Chapter 02 ~ Snack by evil little sister (M/f, Lolita, Anal, Rom? Interracial, Prost, W/S)
Chapter 03 ~ Harry by Uziel (F/m, Oral, Incest)
Chapter 04 ~ By Any Other Name by rache (F/F, Mast, Oral, Romance, W/S)
Chapter 05 ~ The New Club by High School Sweetheart (F, Lolita, No Sex)

03-07 September:
Chapter 06 ~ Mr. Merlin by Lisa Oquias (M/F, Mast, Mind Control, Size)
Chapter 07 ~ The Traveling Man by Rachael Ross (M/F, Romance)
Chapter 08 ~ STS 101 by Rachael Ross (M/F, Romance, No Sex, SciFi)
Chapter 09 ~ The Door in the Closet (1) by rache (M/f, Incest, Reluctant, Humil, Oral, SciFi)
Chapter 10 ~ The Door in the Closet (2) by rache (m/f, No Sex, SciFi)

08-12 September:
Chapter 11 ~ Karen (1) by Kylie X. (F/F, Lesbian, No Sex, Romance, Interracial)
Chapter 12 ~ Making Chrissie by T.S. Severe (f/m/m, Femdom, Bisexual, Mast, Oral, First, Rom?)
Chapter 13 ~ Karen (2) by Kylie X. (F/F, Lesbian, Romance, Interracial)
Chapter 14 ~ The Door in the Closet (3) by rache (m/f, Oral, First, SciFi)
Chapter 15 ~ Tina Vasquez - Texas Ranger (1) by rache (F/F, Police, Romance, Drama)

13-17 September:
Chapter 16 ~ Girl Fag Teaser by Rachael (M/f, Incest, Romance)
Chapter 17 ~ Devil Inside by evil little sister (f/M, Lolita, Interracial, Cheat, Oral)
Chapter 18 ~ The Door in the Closet (4) by rache (f/m, Femdom, D/s, Romance? SciFi)
Chapter 19 ~ Karen (3) by Kylie X. (F/F, Lesbian, No Sex, Romance, Interracial)
Chapter 20 ~ Natalie's World: After School Special by Madly Natalie (Mm/f, Interr, Rom, Oral, D/s, Fant)

18-22 September:
Chapter 21 ~ RBVS 2 Teaser: Dog Bones (Lazarus) by rache (F/M, Oral, Public, Supernatural, Fantasy)
Chapter 22 ~ Tina Vasquez - Texas Ranger (2) by rache (F/F, Police, Romance, Drama)
Chapter 23 ~ The Door in the Closet (5) by rache (f/m, Femdom, D/s, Romance? SciFi)
Chapter 24 ~ The Best Man by T.S. Severe (TG/M, D/s, Humil, First, Oral, Anal, Reluct, Cheat)
Chapter 25 ~ Boyfriend by rache (M/f, Oral, Humiliation, Non-Sexual Violence)

23-27 September:
Chapter 26 ~ Karen (4) by Kylie X. (F/F, M/F, Lesbian, No Sex, Romance, Interracial)
Chapter 27 ~ The Imaginary Man (1) by rache (M/F, Rom, Interr, Safe Sex, Cheat, Reluc, Cuckold)
Chapter 28 ~ Star Trek: Season 5 Teaser by High School Sweetheart (F/M, Oral, SciFi, FanFic, Star Trek)
Chapter 29 ~ The Imaginary Man (2) by rache (M/F, Rom, Interr, Cheat, Reluc, Humil, Cuckold)
Chapter 30 ~ Amy as Wendy by Jack Valentine (M/F, M/g, Rom, Pedo, Anal, First, Teacher/Student)

28-02 October:
Chapter 31 ~ The Imaginary Man (3) by rache (M/F, Interr, Cheat, Reluc, Humil, Cuckold, Preg?)
Chapter 32 ~ Tina Vasquez - Texas Ranger (3) by rache (F/F, Police, Romance, Drama)
Chapter 33 ~ The Imaginary Man (4) by rache (M/F, Interr, Cheat, Reluc, Humil, Cuckold)
Chapter 34 ~ The Door in the Closet (6) by rache (f/m, Femdom, D/s, Romance? SciFi)
Chapter 35 ~ The Imaginary Man (5-A) by rache (M/F, Interr, Cheat, Public, Humil, Cuckold, Slut, Preg)

02-05 October:
Chapter 36 ~ The Imaginary Man (5-B) by rache (M/F, Romance, Interr, Cheat, Humil, Slut, Preg)
Chapter 37 ~ The Imaginary Man (5-C) by rache (M/F, Romance, Interr, Cheat, Cuckold, Preg)
Chapter 38 ~ Karen (5) by Kylie X. (F/F, M/F, Lesbian, No Sex, Romance, Interracial)
Chapter 39 ~ Tina Vasquez - Texas Ranger (4) by rache (F/F, Police, Romance, Drama)
Chapter 40 ~ The Door in the Closet (7) by rache (M+/f, Gangbang, Reluctant, SciFi, Fantasy)

06-10 October:
Chapter 41 ~ Priss by rache (M/F, Romance, Oral, WS, Cheat, Blackmail)
Chapter 42 ~ Blind Date by T.S.Severe (M/F, Romance, CD, Strap-On)
Chapter 43 ~ The Door in the Closet (8) by rache (m/f, M/f, Public, Oral, CP, Reluctant, SciFi, Fant)
Chapter 44 ~ Karen (6) by Kylie X. (F/F, M/F, Lesbian, Romance, Interracial)
Chapter 45 ~ Thirteen by evil little sister (f, No Sex, FemDom, Cuckold, Wimp Husband)

11-15 October
Chapter 46 ~ Priss (2) by rache (M/F, Romance, Anal, Cheat, Blackmail)
Chapter 47 ~ Tina Vasquez - Texas Ranger (5) by rache (F/F, Police, Romance, Drama)
Chapter 48 ~ Priss (3) by rache (M/F, Romance, Cheat, Blackmail)
Chapter 49 ~ Karen (7) by Kylie X. (M/F, F/F, Lesbian Romance, Interracial)
Chapter 50 ~ Wonderful Woman by Bob's ex-wife Rachael (F/F, Lesbian, Superhero, Satire)

16-20 October
Chapter 51 ~ Bully Bitch by evil little sister (m/f, Lolita, Oral, Teen, School)
Chapter 52 ~ The Door in the Closet (9) by rache (f/f, Public, Oral, SciFi, Fant)
Chapter 53 ~ Shoulders of Orion by rache (Romance, Science Fiction)
Chapter 54 ~ Priss (4) by rache (M/F, Romance, Menses, Cheat, Blackmail)
Chapter 55 ~ Karen (8) by Kylie X. (F/F, Lesbian Romance, Interracial)

21-25 October
Chapter 56 ~ Tina Vasquez - Texas Ranger (6) by rache (F/F, Police, Romance, Drama)
Chapter 57 ~ A Girl and Her Robot (1) by rache (f, Mast, Lolita, Romance, SciFi, Fantasy)
Chapter 58 ~ The Door in the Closet (10) by rache (f/M, Science Fiction, Fantasy)
Chapter 59 ~ A Girl and Her Robot (2) by rache (f, Mast, Lolita, Romance, SciFi, Fantasy)
Chapter 60 ~ Priss (5) by rache (M/F, Romance, WS, Cheat, Blackmail)

26-30 October
Chapter 61 ~ A Girl and Her Robot (3) by rache (f/f, M/f, Mast, Lolita, Rom, SciFi, Fantasy)
Chapter 62 ~ Tina Vasquez - Texas Ranger (7) by rache (F/F, Police, Romance, Drama)
Chapter 63 ~ Karen (9) by Kylie X. (F/F, M/F, Lesbian Romance, Interracial, Reluctant)
Chapter 64 ~ A Girl and Her Robot (4) by rache (f/f, M/f, Mast, Oral, Lolita, Rom, SciFi, Fantasy)
Chapter 65 ~ Tina Vasquez - Texas Ranger (8) by rache (F/F, M+/F, Police, Rom, Drama, Caution-Rape)

Chapter 666 ~ The Lonesome Death of Jack L. by rache (rant) posted separately to my blog

Note: Chapters 35, 36, and 37 are simultaneous postings on October 2nd (alternative endings for Imaginary Man)

Note: Chapter 53 "Shoulders of Orion" is the Prologue (teaser) for my sequel to the novel "Twenty Five Pairs" and will not be continued in this collection, but posted separately at a later date. (It's a 6K word advertisement)

+======|Rotating Synopsis Project|======+

Tina Vasquez: Texas Ranger (ch. When a Ranger is sent to investigate a suspicious death and a missing girl in a small Texas town, she expects to find the usual suspects. What she doesn't expect is a beautiful blonde named Emily. (F/F, Romance)

Door in the Closet (ch. When Jilly finds that her closet leads to a parallel universe and a boy named Jimmy, the 16yo begins to wonder if it might not lead to a new life away from her abusive father and uncaring mother. (f/m, Femdom, incest, SciFi)

Karen (ch. In my first year of college I met Karen. She's cute, funny, and my new best friend. Unfortunately, she's also in love with me and as our friendship deepens, I have to wonder…Am I turning into a lesbian? (F/F, romance, interracial)

The Imaginary Man (ch. I thought we had the perfect marriage until my new husband suggested I flirt with other men. White men. He got his wish and maybe I got mine as well; life is never just black and white. (M/F, rom, Interr, cheat, preg) Complete with 3 alternative endings: You Choose!

Star Trek: Season 5 Teaser (ch.28) Everyone misses Captain Kirk, especially Crewman Poole when he has to give "12 o'clock Reports" to acting Captain Spock. Luckily for him, a nymphomaniac cabin-girl named Vale is more than willing to give the young transporter technician a little incentive to get it right! (M/F, Oral, SciFi, FanFict)

Amy as Wendy (ch.30) Jack Valentine is a teacher who loves his little girls and his wife is more than willing to accept and even encourage his desires…So long as Jack comes home to her every night. (M/f, Romance, First, Anal)

Devil Inside (ch.17) I was at the mall looking for a husband when I found the man of my dreams. He was nice, kinda cute, and definitely white. All I had to do was get Harold away from his bitch of a wife and show him how a 15yo black girl could change his life for the better! (f/M, Lolita, interracial, oral)

Priss (ch. I'd thought I'd found a new life when Thomas proposed marriage. I was going to be the virginal bride, faithful and obedient; the sort of wife I'd always dreamt of being for the man who loved me. But Fate has a cruel sense of ironic humor and I hadn't run far or fast enough to escape my past. (M/F, Cheat, Blackmail, WS)

Shoulders of Orion (ch.53) The teaser for my upcoming sequel to the novel "25 Pairs" contains some serious spoilers. It's basically my first draft of the prologue and such things are always subject to change as the story is in progress. I strongly recommend "25 Pairs" to anyone looking for a twisty sort of near-future, science fiction romance. It's a good story, I think, and can be found in T.S. Severe's directory (Science Fiction)

A Girl and Her Robot (Sex Brat) (ch. Fourteen year old Kimberly really wants a robot and to get one she's willing to be auctioned off for charity if it means her daddy will get a big promotion at work. (f, Lolita, Romance, SciFi, Fantasy)

A Girl and Her Robot


I finished this this morning and it was breathless writing. I didn't have time for oxygen! Wow! Was my face blue! But I got it done, thank goodness and nobody will understand what I'm talking about in it!!! heh! ...That's okay. Hopefully people will engage some imagination and figure it out. It isn't totally complicated.

Basically every kid in school is a robot. They live on another planet. All housewives and househusbands are robots. (Theresa's mom is NOT a robot, nor is her minister father #4 and they have jobs, which is how you can tell) Robots get reprogrammed from time to time and are given memories. Some robots know they're robots, most robots are happy to forget that they're robots. Robots own robots. Kim will be 16 forever!

And they all lived happily ever after!

cliff's hanger notes


Star Trek episode one finished right on time. That's good and as I said, it's called "Episode One" for a reason. We're watching TV here, except I don't have the imagination for coming up with interesting commercial jingles. So they're commercial free. Lucky you guys. There's what? 20 episodes in a season? or 18 maybe...or thirteen? I gotta get that number down!!! Episode two will post as soon as I get up the gumption. I've stopped writing so that I can concentrate on my RBPP and work too...They expect me to earn money???? The hell? That's plain old wrong!! But based on the strength of those arguments, I was told to get to work.

So I had to write Karen (9) in my spare time this morning and as such it's lacking 20% of the chapter, simply because I was typing faster than most people and their professional typist secretaries can do it...I can't cook, but Christ I can type!! So I was flying because I was 13 chapters aheead at one point...And then I stopped and now I'm 20 hours ahead...God!

But I'm going to do a chapter a day. Tina will finish tomorrow, Robot will finish the next day and then halloween I post...something. Either my Lazarus starts Armageddon story, or else my Jack L. rant...I haven't decided. And then Mixed Bag will officially end and I can spend every free mmoment I have doing something else for awhile.

Writing a chapter a day isn't hard, considering they're only 4-6 thousand words long, but doing it for two months straight gets pretty old. I'd do it anyway, but the sort of things I'd write aren't the same and so I'm missing some necessary elements in my life, you know? It's hard to explain without boring people, but suffice to say erotica isn't all I do, you know? Where do you think all those Greeting Cards come from? Hallmark doesn't pay by the word either...

I gotta go

Priss is over...See details and my EoD rant!


Priss ended at chapter 60 there and I just totally missed the "To be continued" at the bottom. It should say "The End" and I don't have the file with me or I'd try and edit it and repost it. Cyber cafe's are pretty useless for anything other than email and tequila. So I'll fix that tomorrow.
In other news...

I haven't been writing a damn thing and it's because I'm making my big porn site. I've been scouring the net for all free crappy porn I can find, and stealing this guy's really cool blog and trying to make it my own. It's just an amazing amount of work though. I'm learning how to edit PHP files and Cascading Style Sheets and I'm barely literate with HTML actually.

But I am going to have a big, free, totally stupid and obscene pornography warehouse soon, I hope. Cause like Elmore says, "What's the point of living on the internet, if you ain't in the porn bidness?" and I'm not in business. Capitalism is evil, I oppose it on principle and so I'm stealing and giving what I take away. Like Robin Hood. I steal porn from the rich and give to the poor...Or something. If you have cool porn I can have for free, let me know! I emailed about 25 of my closest college friends and my one perverted uncle (does everyone have one of those?) and college...God, I suddenly have 10 gig of porn!! That's my tuition dollars at work!

This just in...

It's time for my email of the day! and this one, like so many of my EoD stocking stuffers comes to me by way of the tall, dark stranger known only as "Anonymous" ...

Anonymous to me show details 11:46 am (8 hours ago)

I'm glad after rereading your story burb on the
title page that you named the girl/boy it Ashley.
I went back to my library and deleted the four of
your stories I had downloaded but not read.
All of the TS TG stories I have read on this
site,Literotica TS/TG just means Gay and
normally a gay subbie.

I hope you enjoy the life you have choosen.[sic]

My Reply...

I have to ask why you read other people's transgendered stories and not mine? I'll admit I don't have a penis, but! I have been dressing in girl's clothes ever since I can remember! That has to give me some sort of edge, doesn't it? At least enough to keep me relevent and in the running with the big dogs! Maybe it's because not all of my transgender stories deal with gay subbies...I'll have to work on that, just so I can conform to your expectations. Let me know if you want me to color my hair too.

On the bright side! I will ensure that I name all my characters "Ashley" now, just to save you the trouble of having to read something before deciding you don't like it. It's such a time saver and I can't help but wonder why I didn't think of it first! They call me "Lil Miss Shortcut" in my driver's education class. Well, they used to until I crashed the car. But that was so completely NOT my fault. They put the gas pedal right next to the brake pedal!! Ever notice that?

And finally, thanks for wishing me a happy life! It's like getting a little fortune cookie in my email! I'm not entirely sure of your intentions however. I mean, I am, don't get me wrong, but 4 out my five other personalities are convinced you were trying to suggest that because I write a transgender story, I must be living a transgender life.

I suppose I could be. It would explain a lot of things, like my craving for gladiator movies. Unfortunately, if that theory was correct I'd also be living a lesbian life. And a hetero life and crossdressing for my gay dog in between all the great sex my husband seems to expect for some reason. No wonder I'm so tired all the time! I was living the life of Riley...And then Riley came home.

That's an old joke and they even made a movie out of it. They'll make a movie out of anything if it sits still long enough.

But, this is a good time to remind those few individuals who insist on living in a fantasy world where people are what they write and so conversely, we'd all better be careful or we'll certainly become what we read, that...You're wrong. I was looking for a clever way to say it gracefully and spare you the anguish of suffering too much reality all at once, but there's just no easy way to say it except the easy way...Don't confuse me, or any of the rest of me's, with any characters in any stories I've written. Unless...This important so write it on your hand...Unless I say right away that "This is a true story..." and to the best of my knowledge I've only done that three times and none of those will see the light of day on SOL...I think.

Okay? Writers make stuff up. It's kinda how it works. We tried it the other way, but all that did was drive up the price of hot buttered cashews, and while you're trying to wrap yourself around that concept...

I'll say goodbye!

Thanks for avoiding me! The world is much safer for it!

signed lovingly,
rache aka T.S. Severe

McCoy and FGM and Necro for Halloween


Here's an absolutely cool song! It's kind of an uptempo, quazi-techno salute to Dr. McCoy by a band called S.P.O.C.K (Space Pilots On Channel K) and it isn't supposed to funny or anything, it's just a cool song and I like it a lot. I think I got it off Dr. Demento's site or something. Anyway the lyrics are here, as near as I can figure them out just by listening to it a zillion times over the last five years or so. And if you want to download it, I'll put the mp3 here:

Dr. McCoy Cool MP3
How cool is that???

Spaceship surgeon since '66
Multi-talented, knows all the tricks
Been almost every where in the galaxy
Traveled time and changed history

Has a running feud with a green blooded man
Takes every opportunity to argue if he can
He's one of a kind
He says what's on his mind

You might think he's complaining
When you hear him saying

He's a doctor! (Not an escalator)
He's a doctor! (Not a brick layer)
He's a doctor! (Not a shuttle conductor)
And everybody knows him as Dr. McCoy

He's a doctor! (not an engineer)
He's a doctor! (and not a magician)
He's a doctor! (not a psychiatrist)
And you know that I'm talking about Dr. McCoy

Doesn't like transporters at all
Prefers a shuttle if possible
Suffered once from plain old polycythemia
Married twice and has a daughter, Joanna

Charged with murder of a Klingon Chancellor
Managed to escape with a fellow officer
Doesn't make housecalls
Had a kantra in his head
Kills a rainy day and wakes up the dead

He's a doctor! (Not an escalator)
He's a doctor! (Not a brick layer)
He's a doctor! (Not a shuttle conductor)
And everybody knows him as Dr. McCoy

He's a doctor! (not an engineer)
He's a doctor! (and not a magician)
He's a doctor! (not a psychiatrist)
And you know that I'm talkin' about Dr. McCoy

He's dead Jim...He's dead
He's dead Jim...He's dead
He's dead Jim...He's dead
Stone dead!

Doctor Doctor Doctor Mcoy (x8)


On a similar note, I've also been uploading all the stupid porn videos that I steal from other sites! Not the really big ones though, just the reasonably sized ones. I'm not huge on videos, although some of the Japanes ones are awesome!! But they're so big, the good ones. What a drag. Anyway, someday when I really have my Anarchy Site up and running I'm going to need a lot of free porn to attract horny teenage boys so I can mold them into my Army of Entropy and declare war on MTV and the Republican Party and all those guys.

I already have a brick wall and a cache of Ak-47's...It's amazing how cheap those things are!! And fun! I swear. I like guns anyway, seriously, and We were in Malaysia staying with this doctor and his family and he had a bunch of bodyguards and they all had pistols and AK-47's and one day after breakfast it was like "Let's go kill some banana trees!!" I swear, true story! So I was out there laughing and going deaf (but an Ak isn't that loud really, it surprised me) and going all Rock 'n Roll with an assault rifle on full auto! It jerks around like the best vibrator in the world too! Awesome! You really gotta hold it tight and I missed like every tree I aimed at, but I hit all the ones I wasn't aiming at, you know, so I figure that'll be what the revolution is like and why I'm gonna have to line up a LOT of politicians!

Nah...I'm just kidding. I don't really want to kill anyone. I just want to scare them. Killing someone would totally suck, I bet. I was trying to imagine it while I wrote "Tina (ch.7)" last night and it was so depressing. The only way to really get over it is to use humor and make like it's a joke. That's what humor is for and why we laugh at things which aren't really all that funny usually. People being humiliated, falling down and hurting themselves, stuff like that. It's a way to rationalize and reduce stress and deal with things which make us uncomfortable. I've seen dead people and it isn't pretty.

I think that's why I stopped writing snuff so much. I used to write it a lot, but only when I was young and safe and living spoiled and stupid in our home in the States where it was safe. Once you leave that place and go to someplace like Indonesia, let's say, where people are murdered every day, right in front of you...Like, I was at a fiesta, this was in the Philippines last year, and we were buying some house slippers, not that it matters, me and Nining, who's a tomboy, which is a lesbian to the rest of us, and she looks like a total guy except she has a cunt to go along with her shaved head and cute little beer belly, anyway...Out of nowhere this guy shows up with a bolo, like a big machete, and starts hacking on this guy ten feet away from us. Chopped him up and it was sick. I was sick, physically and then a cop blew half the guy's head off a minute later, but I didn't see that, I just heard about it later.

I saw a guy getting macheted to death though and after that? What am I gonna write about? Not that. It doesn't ever get out of your head either. I see it all the time and it sucks. So don't get on me for joking about stuff or whatever and people want to write me and tell me I'm culturally barren. Fuck. People have no idea who I am or what I'm doing. They don't even know what it's like once you get away from America and Europe, the tourist spots that are all bright and shiny and cleaned up. I worked on a report for WHO on female genital mutilation a couple years ago, when I was living in Indonesia, running around that place and...Okay here's that story without the bad parts, cause you don't want to know what it's like touring the provinces looking for 14 year old girls dying in the dirt...

The World Health Organization, and the United nations, wanted to reduce the practice of FGM in a selected number of third world countries. Indonesia was one of them and until a few years ago it was legal and sanctioned by the Indonesian Government and most women, teen girls usually, were able to have the procedure done in government hospitals. Some brilliant committee made a recommendation that the government be coerced into banning the practice through pressure by the World Bank and WHO actually recommended against this, I know because my husband and I were part of the originating survey and this was a bad idea. But they did it.

Indonesia was basically told that if they didn't stop allowing government facilities and medical personnel to perform FGM then the World Bank would stop making certain moneys available in the form of loans and exchange guarantees and whatever, so what was Indonesia gonna do? They passed the laws and banned FGM ... That moved the practice out of the hospitals and into makeshift, backroom, largely temporary facilities that were never designed or intended for any sort of medical procedure. The number of women being mutilated did not decrease by any appreciable amount, the number of complications resulting from infection and insufficient post-op treatment increased significantly, by well over 400% ...Four times the rate reported previously! It was and remains to this day a health care disaster.

But the UN can scratch Indonesia off it's hit list and the World Bank guaranteed a 3.2 billion dollar loan for modernization of Indonesia's telecommunications infrastructure less than two months after the laws were passed. Anyway...That's the sort of culturally barren thing I spend most of my time dealing with when I can't sit down and write something like this:

My Halloween Treat for 2008 ...Written in 2001 when I was feisty!!



by Rachael

A friend of mine named Rob has a necrophilia site and I go there sometimes and check out his forum. He gets a lot of weird people who say a lot of weird things and this was just a little joke I played one day.


Heya great site I like it lots. Here's one for ya, my girlfriends dead. yeah no shit. dead as hell but I love her cause she's my girlfriend. I'll tell you whats goin on then ask my questions cause I got a bunch.

She's buried and everything like that but I still like to go to see her and bring flowers and stuff. I like to think about her the way she looked at the funeral was cool she was hot. They dressed her nice and put a rose on her which was cool cause she's a rose freak she loved the stupid things and I never gave her any except once or twice.

But I was at the funeral parlor the day before she was gonna be buried and it was just me and I touched her a little. just her boobs they were still kinda firm but i think it was cause her dress was kinda tight I think. I kissed her too but her mouth was closed and wouldn't open I don't know what those guys do there they glued it or something or is that like rigor mortis?

Anyway i kissed her a lot cause she smelled nice and I didn't know they put all the makeup on dead people, but I guess they have to. I got it messed up a little but they fixed it. I wanted to do other stuff, I think she looked so hot layin there i just wanted to jump in and give her some salomi for the trip you know? Can dead chicks get pregnant? wow thats a rush! What if her little eggs are still alive? I heard guys sperm lives for a month after he's dead like hair keeps growin is that true?

It'd be cool to think about gettin her pregnant and then burying her the next day cause it's not like the kid would live it'd be like part of me was sleepin with her you know? We always used a rubber though so I know she wasn't. But i think about it all the time gettin in that coffin with her and pullin her white dress up and slippin her panties to the side just shoving my hard cock inside and I know she'd be nice and warm even if she was dead cause she was always ready if you know what i mean?

She was juicy and sweet I love her a lot. I was thinkin all this when I was looking at her and it made my dick get really hard and I had my hand in my pocket you know kinda playin with it when her mom comes in sniffling and cried out mostly but she came right up next to me and started talkin about how much she liked me and how special she was and how at least she had a nice guy like me.

All the time I'm rubbin my dick and thinkin I want to do stuff with her while she's layin there and then Barb's mom [Barb was my gf] her mom puts her arms around me and she wants a hug so of course I gotta pull my hand out and start huggin this lady cause she started cryin and everything again and I know she could feel my dick cause its like lumber in my pants!! I could build a freakin house with it you know?

And so it feels nice huggin her and I'm lookin over my shoulder at her little girl wantin to jump her dead ass right then and I feel like you know pushin a little with my dick cause mom looks like Barb except older but still a hottie and I figured she'd slap me or somethin but she didn't she just pushed me away and she left she didn't say a word to me for like a month even though i see her every day almost.

But its ok now cause she told me she understood that some people cope with stress in different ways than other people. She said those exact words and I was like huh? Then i figured out cause her husbands a doc and he talked to me too sayin that it was ok I was feelin aroused at the funeral home cause my brain was trying to handle a difficult situation and nerves get confused like telephone wires getting switched to the wrong houses and he wanted to know if I was ok with that.

But hell yeah I was!! I was jackin off nearly every day thinking about Barbie doll bein dead and me bein in there with her plantin my love gun in her dead womb but I didn't say that cause he's a doc but he's got guns too ya know?

Instead i just said I felt a little guilty and I talked to Father Duncan and it was ok and I knew it was ok then too for him cause he'd never say anything to a priest and the priest couldnt say anything if I really did say something which I didn't.

So back at the funeral parlor after Barb's ma left I was alone again every now and then some guy would pop through the door and look and make sure everything was ok. But I stood by Barbie lookin at her and touching just a little. The bottom half was closed or else I'd have felt up her leg too cause she had super duper legs and I always liked the way she looked.

I just had to take out my dick so I did that and I was rubbin it a little and doin stuff. I figured if anybody came in I'd hear it and I could put it away really quick or fold my hands or do something but nobody did and I ended up cummin right there in the funeral home shootin off on my hand cause I didn't have anything else close by. I wiped it on Barb's dress between her boobs cause she had a white dress anyway I put a little on her lips too just like glaze for the lipstick I messed up. They really put way too much I think but I put the rose back right on top of my spunk and then I figured I best get out of there cause I could feel wood comin back and I didn't wanna get caught spankin on a dead chick even if she was hot like Barbie. But at least I know she got a little bit of me with her I just wish it was more like inside her ya know?

So now anyway I got a new girlfriend but when I do it with her I'm always thinkin bout Barb but not like when she was alive. I think about her dead. I tell my gf not to move so much and I tried to get her to shut up too cause she's a moaner I put a sheet over head so it looks like shes not even there. I just wish she was Barbie and be dead so its not the best for me anymore.

If i really wanna get off I go to the cemetary like early cause not so many people around well not a lot anytime but early is the best. The guy unlocks the gate and then he takes off cause he works down at Mels supermart.

I like to go to Barb's grave she has a nice headstone not real big but it has roses around it and an angel carved too and says ~Beloved daughter sept 4 1982 - april 16 2000~ which is cool cause I always used to forget her birthday now I don't.

I like to bring her a rose and stand by her headstone it's just the right height that I can pull out my dick and rub it on the top while I talk to her tellin her how hot she is I say 'Barbie you are so freakin hot, babe!' and I close my eyes and rub my dick all over that cold smooth rock until I shoot and I make sure I get some right on the ground and on the rose too if I can cause she loves roses. I do it every week and I know she likes it cause I dream about her all the time and she tells me it's ok cause she loves me.

So is this normal? or am I really all screwed up like beyond the beyond? Is it possible to dig a chick up and do her? How long til they really start goin bad? it's been almost a year but I still think about it cause I got a back hoe and everything. can a dead chick get pregnant? i mean like how long does it take the eggs or whatever to die? if she was like 3 minutes dead is it too late? I really like thinkin about getting a dead girl pregnant. i know that's not normal. but what the hell i'm not gonna go kavorkian on some chick just to do it either. and how do I get my girlfriend into it? I told her I like dead chicks but she thinks I'm joking with her even though I always tell her to shut the hell up and stop moving. I tried to get her to fuck me on Barb's grave but she won't go near it. She thinks we're gonna go to hell or somethin. I think she's kinda jealous. Ok thanks hope you guys can hook me up with some answers!


And that's the end of my blog entry for today!


I'm so Numb, er...gettin Dumb, er...All the time


Wow…I usually try to write my blog notes offline because the internet cafĂ© here is right next to the bar where I like to hang out. Usually I hang out for awhile, go internet for awhile, then hang out some more. If I try to do my blog entries, or do anything more complicated than answer emails and yes/no questions, I usually end up embarrassing myself.
The proof is in the pudding.
So, I take back whatever I said yesterday and instead, I offer this gem of sobriety…
Rachael’s Really Deep Thoughts on Download Counts

Stat counting is pretty much useless for me. I’m sure some people get a kick out of it and maybe they even have some use for such things, but I’ve just never found much value for totaling my downloads or anything like that. Word count is handy and you have to understand what that is and what it means and how to use it as a writer, because it’s important in a lot of ways, but those are numbers that I have sole control over. I’ll confess that I never contemplated comparing my story size to anyone else’s. It smacks of penis envy…or something.


After reading AscendingAuthor’s blog, and I don’t know him at all, one way or any other, I’m a little mind boggled by what he says there. Of course dedicating oneself to 3.2 million words in a single story??? Wow! It’s safe to say that he and I have very different views on storytelling in theory and practice and I’m sure neither of us is more right or less wrong than the other. I wish him the very best of luck with reaching the longest story on SOL goal or whatever the thrust of his efforts is. Good luck with that.

But the whole numbers thing, daily vs weekly downloads and losing some of them…I don’t know about that stuff. About the only numbers I look at are the number of favorites lists that I’m on, just because that’s right at the top and it’s hard to miss, and the number of libraries a given story is in.

Downloads don’t tell me anything. I could have fifty thousand downloads, but I don’t know how many of those are people who actually finished the story or just popped in for a quick skim, a midnight jerk, or just to cheer me with a ten or spank me with a one…I mean, how many people read the whole thing? That’s what I’m concerned with, and SOL and the best bean counting software in the world won’t ever be able to tell me.

As I’ve mentioned before, email and feedback is really the only method I use to determine a story’s “success” if I write a story with nice high scores, but I only get a dozen emails…It’s a failure. I have a couple of those and I think, “God! That story must really suck, cause nobody emailed me.” Likewise, posting a story to terrible scores and limited downloads, but getting thirty emails, which is what happens with TS Severe for example, she’s doing okay. I know transgendered stories aren’t going to get big numbers. Same with Kylie and her stories, but they get so damn much email from the readers who are into it, they’re really vocal and enthusiastic and I love them!

That’s rewarding, it really is. Numbers…blah. Who cares? That’s another toy for readers and I think authors should just ignore that crap. It is tempting to write a 3.3 million word story though, I have to admit! I have a title picked out for it already, "Doorstop" …But I have so many other things to do. I still have to figure out if Kylie is going to hook up with Karen or her father!! That's what I should be doing right now…Yikes! At least I finished Tina (7) just a minute ago, that was a relief! I kept putting it off and putting it off. I really need a cattle prod shoved up my butt sometimes, you know?

Yeah…See? You do know, but probably for a different reason than mine, huh? I need a drink.

Priss Notes


Priss blog

Okay, I just now finished my edit for Priss after finishing the fifth and final chapter.

What to say? The last chapter gets a big dose symbolism with the journey back to the scene of the crime. I didn’t harp on that, but it should have been obvious. Tricia’s confusion when she enters Perry’s apartment should have been understandable. She knows she’s in love with him and she just needs to hear it. I tried to save the love word until the very end, but the confrontation and Tricia’s demand for the truth from Perry seemed appropriate and I couldn’t make the scene work without it.

This is a good story from a pacing and character/plot arc standpoint. It’s very direct with little wasted in between the first word and the last. It just goes and it builds and there’s a lot of introspection and self-examination in the earlier chapters so that by the time the last chapter comes around we can just listen to the dialogue and understand what’s underneath it.

At least I hope that was working for you.

Uhhhhh…Sex. I glossed over the sex at the end. We’ve scene it already and there was no reason to go into it again really. I wanted a clean chapter. This isn’t a stroke story, although I appreciate all the emails I got with suggestions for Priss to be used and abused and gang-banged and all kinds of nasty stuff…Wow! She was not a literal whore, of course, it was all symbolic. Her past was her past and she wasn’t ever going to have sex with anyone except Perry and Thomas. She was Perry’s whore and Thomas’ saint. Tricia didn’t belong to anyone else and Perry wasn’t going to share her, not even with Thomas if he could help it.

Hopefully it’s a story that lends itself to some effort on the reader’s part to understand and appreciate and find the little things that I left out or put in as the case may be. The confusion and inconsistancies were largely deliberate. And that’s about all I have to say about that. Any questions?


"Closer"'s cool


You gotta look at this Kirk, Spock, and Nine Inch Nails!

A fella named Hans sent me that link about a week ago, because I like the song "Closer" so much and I guess he does too and I honestly think the video deserves an academy award of some kind. I know the idea has been done repeatedly as Andrew Johns has pointed out, but it still makes me giggle like five year old on acid!!

Anyway, so the Trek Episode one is up and online now. I got a bunch of eamils, positive ones mostly expressing their hopes that the story will be a good one. That mirrors my own hopes, obviously, since I'm not into writing really crappy...But I do, from time to time. But this should be good and fun and I've been reassuring people of my faithful intentions.

What else was I gonna say? It looks like TS got his blog fixed, so that's good. I need to update my other blogs one of these days, Kylie's especially.

I need to take out a full page ad and explain how Kylie works one of these days...hmmmm

Blog Functions for TS Severe and Transporters


It almost looks like it's working now! TS Severe's blog I mean. The problem was that the link didn't want to appear at the end of some of the stories, but it seems to be there for new posts...So for the moment, I'm kinda excited! I'll have to check it out a little more and if it's all good, I'll change my end mnotes for recent posts.

Thanks for your patience and my apologies for any inconvenience.


Transporter Malfunction!!!


I'm posting a little fan fiction. Star Trek fan fiction. The original series fan fiction...And I can hear everyone running away!!

That's alright. I like it and my opinion counts for quite a lot.

Edit here: I decided to post the chapters 2 at a time so it will post through the 26 of October, ending at Ch.13 ...It's all on automatic now and I reposted the prologue, adding a little graphic and some improved (I hope) formatting over the original. Hopefully it'll be up soon as it's in the new submission queue now.

Ummm...I'm calling it Season Five, because obviously there never, ever was one. I'm calling my chapters "Episodes" and those are broken up into smaller, bite size portions. The story is intended to be fed to readers like the six minutes you get between infomercials on TNT, you know? It's a cliffhanger, serial formatted story and so it's deliberate :)

I have three Episodes done and more planned because it is fun, but I'll be taking my t i m e with it, meaning an episode will post quickly, with back to back, daily postings where available, but time between episodes may be longer...As long as necessary. I have a LOT of projects and LITTLE time. Blame me for that, God did okay with Time. It was one of His better ideas.

What is this about? How is it written? It's about Kirk and Rand getting switched in a transporter, which is a cliche. You can't do Star Trek without some cliche or it wouldn't be Star Trek. So that's my first premise and Kirk becomes the hottest, most nymphomaniacal Starfleet captain in the universe. At least for awhile. Except I haven't really decided if I'll ever change him back. Maybe in Episode Two...

My only rule was that I had to start each episode with two original characters (original to me) namely Cremen Nagel and Poole, since the TV show only showed officers. And, what else? Oh! Everyone has to have sex. A lot of it and every chance I got, so long as I could actually tell an interesting story along the way.

I hope it's interesting. We'll find out.

On another note. I'm posting "Loren" to Kylie and I posted "TS Wife" to TS Severe...It is an edited version, by the way. Nothing really added, but I did make it a bit more user friendly since when I wrote it, I wasn't writing in English and my translation was a little...stiff. I might do a continuation of it, I'm not sure. Anyway, it's there now.

I'm also posting Stage Daddy and I added some 6000 words to that last night, just for the halibut! So it's a third longer and Ashley gets fucked now! Good for her! That'll queue up as soon as I find the file...if I brought it. Yikes!!

5am Primal Scream


Wow! That feels really amazingly good and that guy from Detroit...Props to ya, man!!
Now I wanna say this...

We have no life. I stare into her eyes and wonder if mine are as empty; lifeless. We used to play the mirror game, like in the cartoons, and we got pretty good at that. Until we found out we could do it all the time. Anytime, anywhere. Even here, or maybe most especially here, but that's getting off track isn't it? an inside joke no one else will understand, except for a few people there - in the real world, so called. But I'm sure so many others would appreciate it if they could be convinced.

We are empty now, something is missing and it depresses us, makes us sleepless and angry. When I scream it's her voice we hear and when she weeps it's my tongue that tastes the salt of our tears. We are lonely and empty.

I went to New Orleans, in my head, starting this story in the mirror and letting her finish it, because we haven't tried that before. I went to New Orleans looking for a woman who'd come from Little Haiti in Miami. We found a recess in the dark quarters of the old city. She was black, like the sun had burnt her to a crisp, and when she smiled her lips creased and folded and turned upward as if savoring a sweet crackling piece of fried pork fat. The juice dripping across her chin, glistening oily and making me look away until I couldn't help it. But it was gone. She was reading Paris Match and smoking a cigarette.

The bell on the door tinkled like they always do and I walked around slowly, just looking. Another tourist lost on her way to Bourbon Street. Looking for a bathroom, looking for a picture postcard; or a t-shirt that says "all I got in New Orleans was pregnant" or a voodoo doll. Do they have those? I want one and not a fake one. Not one to show my friends back home and then leave on the shelf until one Thursday I chuck it with my JD Salinger book into the trash. No. I want one that I can keep in the dark, afraid to tell anyone about, afraid to look at, afraid to touch. I want to get it for her.

The taxi driver knew a man on the corner who knew a woman. It was an expensive ride and when I stood there I knew it was worth it. She had snake eyes and wrinkled skin hanging off her thin bones like black crepe. Real voodoo I told her. I whispered it while she blew dead blue smoke in the air and flipped the pages of her magazine.

"Real voodoo."

I couldn't understand what she said, it was old words from sometime else and far away. She said something louder and a man came out, dusting his clothes, black and white and red all over. I smelled him, rich with sweat and fresh blood. Killing a pig, he said. It was late for it, not a good thing, bad for everyone. Especially the pig. The old woman knows voodoo, she can make me what I want. It's easy but dangerous too. It's not for people like me. They look at me and I shuffle my feet. A ploy to get the price up, I think. Staring at her. I told her it's exactly for people like me. I want it.

She wants something personal, needs to put something inside to make it strong, make it work. A thing is a thing; hair is good, blood is better. I start taking off my ring. My mother's ring, it's the most important thing to me. The woman shakes her head and says in the old man's voice, no. From the victim.

"Victim." He says it like he's spitting. But the old woman smiles. I tell her it is from the victim, and more. I ask where the bathroom is and he shows me.

I give the old woman my mother's ring, fitted around a ripped off piece of my menstrual pad. I ripped the cotton from the middle, wet and soggy bloody, and rolled it up and pushed it through the ring like a short pulpy finger. Dripping like a sponge. Like a bit of baby's lung foaming crimson. I pulled a dozen or more long dark hairs from my head and wrapped them around, looping twisting, the ring and my bloody napkin, tying it into one personal intimate thing. I come out and put it on the counter. My mother's golden ring, blood from the center of my being, and bound with hair ripped from my skull. The woman clucks and the man leaves while I press my hands together, feeling the blood drying sticky on my palms. Smelling it in the air around me.

A straw doll, old and dry like paper, wrapped in sack cloth. Button eyes, black and dull and staring. Arms and legs too, and she rips the belly open, using her old yellow thumbnail. The old woman holds it open, speaking in tongues and looking at me, then at the ring and hair and blood. She won't touch it so I pick it up, my eyebrow raised and she nods, gesturing with the doll until I push myself inside it, tucking those parts of me away, inside and out of sight. She sews it back up, quick and neat like she did it a thousand million times. I'm in there now, in that ugly straw doll like a baby waiting to be born. She gives it to me, thrusting it into my arms and crosses herself. Three times up and down. Left and right. She doesn't want money, she doesn't want to see me again. She picks up her magazine and sets her old body back, rocking soft and leaving me to leave.

Story Removal


The following stories have been removed from the "rache" index:
Don't Ask, Don't Tell
Reasons Until After
Stage Daddy
TS Neighbors
Ts Wife

The above to be reposted under the pen name "T.S. Severe" as time permits.

Loren - To be reposted under the pen name "Kylie X." when I get around to it.

This is just being done as part of my SCP (Spring Cleaning Project) and there's no real cause to panic. I've been meaning to reorganize for awhile now and I'm always forgetting. Well...Today I remembered! Except I don't have the files with me, blah blah blah

In the meantime...

You Lied!

Characters lie all the time and I was talking about this in an email and so I figured I'd mention it here. Some people, some readers, look at a story and assume that because the words are written down they must invariably be 100% accurate.

What I mean is that they think that the narrator would never, ever lie, cheat, steal, exaggerate, falsify, marginalize, blaspheme, or otherwise tell an untruth to the reader.

That's often true in a story that is (a) written in third person/omni; and (b) written by someone else.

In my stories, especially in first person narratives, the narrator is a character. The person telling the story is someone who usually wants to be liked, as any of us do. He or She wants your sympathy (most times) and craves your understanding and good opinion as she relates her adventure. What the narrator reports to you is (usually) taken from a perspective of rememberence. The character is retelling events from memory and so we can safely assume that they are filtered through the lens of time, if nothing else.

Sometimes I play with that deliberately, but most often I do try and keep the narrator honest. Still, there are times when I do make it a point to lie in the interest of develioping either character or plot, or both. I use it as a tool to avoid details when I'm not in a mood to provide them. I like the ready excuse first person allows me to be vague and obscure at times, if it benefits the story. It offers varying opportunities to enter a sub-textual dialogue with readers and provide information through what is hidden or revealed.

None of it is ever obvious (I hope) and such devices should pass largely unnoticed if it's working. But, being the author, I am conscious of what I say and how I say it and I just wanted to confess. In those few stories I have where the opportunity to tell a story from two different points of view exists, like one of the chapters in "Daddy's Little Whore" for example, I tried to exemplify two different memories of the same event. Dialogue is different. Some of the events are remembered differently, and it should emulate real life that way. Reading the two versions shouldn't be confusing, but neither should one be considered correct over the other. They're both correct in essence and complimentary.

In other stories, where only a single point of view is revealed, then we have to remember that the narrator is a character and telling the story is part of the story...see? Simple.


Door in the Closet


I'm looking at finishing "Mixed Bag" for Halloween, probably with a double header that night. So this morning, I spent three precious hours writing 10,000 words to finish "Door in the Closet" and that will post as chapter 58 on the 25th I believe.
I want to do my blog entry now, while it's still fresh.

The story was always going to end at ten chapters. 50,000 words, that was my plan and my goal. Unfortunately, my pacing in this story was terrible. My planning was non-existent. As such, it isn't a very good story technically. It's pretty bad and a very good example for those of you paying attention, how NOT to write a story. Most times, for most stories, my talent (such as it is) will overcome my laziness. But science fiction, which necessarily deals with a lot of trivia and facts and one premise built on another in logical fashion, really requires a lot of planning. Obviously I didn't plan anything...What I did was write as fast as I could whatever popped into my little brain and tried to massage the story so it sorta made sense.

Silly me.

Thus, to get back on point, when I got to my chapter 10 and typed "Door 10" at the top of the screen and looked at all that white space, I said, "rache, you gotta find an ending!" so that's what I did. Writing is easy, 10K words is nothing to sweat and I was prepared to go longer if I needed to, as long as it took. I figured if I hit 15K and it wasn't over I'd look at a chapter 11, but I managed to end it almost on schedule.

I'm talking too much.

There's a lot of holes, a lot of missing details, conflicting details, a lot of mismatched characters and events. It's not an easy read. And it's not really a serious story either, so I'm not too worried about it. I did slip in some social commentary here and there. But the story isn't meant to be hard and factual and the blueprint for the future. There's nothing pretentious going on. It's just me rambling off the cuff and having as much fun doing it as I can without all the stress of doing any real work.

I'm sure some people enjoyed it. Some people will be disappointed in one way or another. Other's will see the potential and missed opportunities, as I do, admittedly. It was a good experience writing it and I might try it again someday and next time work out in advance all the nuances of the alternative universe and prepare a more reasonable background and plot.

So that's it!