Episode 3: Preparation

Factoids

“… a whopping 36% of young adults in our survey reported anxiety, compared to 18% of teens; 29% of young adults reported depression, compared to 15% of teens. Forty-two percent (42%) of young adults reported either depression or anxiety and 23% reported both.”

A joint report by Ords: Richard Weissbourd, Milena Batanova, Joseph McIntyre, and Eric Torres with Shanae Irving, Sawsan Eskander, and Kiran Bhai

“Masturbation: the primary sexual activity of mankind.

In the nineteenth century it was a disease;

in the twentieth, it’s a cure.”

Quote from an Ord, Thomas Szasz

“Sex is a part of nature. I go along with nature.”

Quote from an Ord, Marilyn Monroe

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

I enter the Dining Room in a grey onesie, my head pounding like a drum. I’m grouchy, thanks to that flood—both the overwhelming orgasmic one and the tsunami of memories and emotions crashing into my mind. Memories I didn’t even know I had. And it’s all her fault.

“Sorry I’m late,” I mutter, avoiding eye contact as I plop into the seat next to Mom, directly across from Cat wearing what she considers pajamas: that deep red ‘Fuzzy Heart Zip Up Hooded Lounge Jumpsuit.’ Hoodie off, of course.

“That’s okay my dear,” Mom glancing at me, “you must be exhausted.”

“Yeah,” I grumble, jabbing my fork into a potato. Dad’s not here, but his plate is full of food.

That means he won’t be joining us ·Again ·Is he avoiding me?

“Hoodie off, please. No hoods at the table,” Mom reminds me, her tone gentle but firm.

“Sure, Mo—”

“I was watching you on the track, Cely,” Cat bursts out, cutting me off with her radiant enthusiasm, “you tore that track up!”

It’s hard to stay annoyed around Catriona; she’s got this bubbly infectious energy that makes grudges evaporate.

“Thanks Cat!” I say, unable to resist a small smile at her boundless joy.

“And that ramp trick! Driving on two wheels? That was insane! I can’t wait to try it!”

She’s a walking beam of sunshine, and as much as I try to stay in my funk, her happiness is impossible to ignore.

“And,” Mom chimes in, her voice calm but pointed, “your time was impressive… pity you didn’t finish the course.

“What?”—

My fork clatters to the porcelain plate.

Cat and I both gape at her.

“Nah!” I protest, my voice sharp. “No ‘dessing way!”

“Well,” Mom says with an unsettling calm, “technically you didn’t. That drunk pedestrian blocked you, before the finish line. The finish line you never crossed. By the rules, you’re still on the course.” She fixes her gaze on me, unblinking, as she taps her watch rhythmically. “The clock,” she adds, “is still ticking.”

The room falls silent.

She cracks a smile!

We all laugh—I laugh—but it’s fleeting.

The moment passes, and we return to eating in silence.

My mind, however, isn’t quiet, as it drifts back to the tangled mess of memories I’m still trying to sort through. Under the table, I slip a piece of chicken to Dee while eating a forkful of potatoes.

I keep telling her I’m a vega—

Oh!—

My nostrils are invaded by that odor: cologne, sweat, and ‘his’ nectar

That’s Dad behind me.

My body tenses as the cravings ignite

I just want to rip off his shirt—

Images flooding my mind:

His teat

My mouth on it

Swallowing the sweet nectar―

Des, I’m squirting―

My hand instinctively going to my crotch

No one noticed!

Thank ‘Dess I’ve got protection.

“Sorry I am late,” he says, addressing everyone and no one.

His tone is flat. Detached.

“You’ll be picked up” he continues, locking eyes with me, “at 0500 hours. Taken somewhere for a private assessment. Make sure you’re prepared. Your mother will instruct you on the finer points. If you pass, you will likely go straight to probation—so pack your blacks.”

Without waiting for a response, he grabs his pre-prepared plate of food, mutters, “I can’t eat… I’ll be in the office,” trudging off, plate in hand.

The room falls silent again.

I retreat into multiple competing thoughts:

His nectar ·

Those stolen memories ·

How could she?

We girls finish our meal in silence.

Cat begins to nod off,

her head drooping over crossed arms.

I glance over at my mom.

She notices my unease, gives me a tentative smile, and raises her hand to form the familiar “phone” gesture—little finger to her mouth and thumb to her ear.

She wants to communicate telepathically.

But that’s my gift, not hers.

I have to initiate.

I need to create the connection.

Reluctantly, I nod and open a “chat room”’ in her mind.

I set it up in her head—not mine—so she can’t see my thoughts or images: I will keep my images private. But I’ll be able to ‘see’ her thoughts.

“Here, Mom.”

“Are you okay, Cely? · Penny for your thoughts?”

“Ummm · Mom… I think we need to talk.”

That’s putting it mildly.

“OoKaay” she thinks back hesitantly, her mental tone cautious.

She glances at Cat, now fully slumped over the table.

“Cat!” she says aloud, nudging her gently. “Cat, wake up! It’s late. Time for bed.”

That’s irony if I’ve ever heard it ·

Waking her up to go to sleep!

But I’m not in a jovial mood, so I don’t say it.

She stirs.

“Cat,” Mom gently coaxing my younger sister awake, “it’s bedtime.”

Cat stirs with a groggy moan. “Thanks, Mom,” she mumbles,

yawning as she drags herself to her feet,

feebly picking up her plate.

“Don’t worry about the dishes tonight,” Mom insists, taking the plate from Cat, “I’ll do them.”

“Thanks Mom,” as she plants a sleepy kiss on Mom’s cheek

stumbling out of the dining room.

Mom piles on the other plates,

taking them to the kitchen.

I help, bringing the glasses and decanter with me,

placing them adjacent to the sink.

Mom shoves in the plug,

turning on the hot water,

rotates back to me, her eyes searching mine, her thoughts swirling with unspoken questions.

“So,” I begin slowly, my internal voice measured, “I was having a bath and…

I instinctively knew they were enchanted ·

And knew that I had the power to break them ·

So, I concentrated…”

I pause, searching her confused face,

“And they fell off!”

I pull them out my pocket…

holding up the shattered remains of the bangles…

letting them dangle from my fingers.

Mom’s eyes widen with surprise, “Oh, Cely! · That’s fantastic—”

“Is it?” I interrupt sharply, cutting her off,

“I was instantly rocked with a series of orgasmic tidal waves that never seemed to end!”

Her mouth quirks into a smile,

and then she bursts out laughing.

“Ssshhh!” I hiss, my cheeks burning.

Mom smiles softens, but the laughter lingers in her eyes,“Sorry · So that was that scream we heard.”

“Mom!” I exclaim, mortified. “It’s embarrassing!”

“I’m sorry my dear” she thinks gently, “I wasn’t laughing at your expense.”

“No?” My internal voice rises, anger bubbling up now

“You gave me those bangles ·

Didn’t you? ·

YOU blocked my memory! ·

YOU jammed my ability to feel ·

My capacity to…” I swallow hard, the words bitter in my mind, “To orgasm ·

You made me think there was something wrong with me! ·

I thought I was broken! ·

I convinced myself I was asexual ·

But it wasn’t me ·

Was it?”

Mom’s expression tightens “Oh.”

The word hangs in the air, and it fuels the fire inside me.

“OH?” I shout telepathically, stamping my feet.

My hands slam to my hips as I glare down at her,

“That’s your only response? ·

After lying to me for years? ·

‘OH?’”

I pace in the kitchen, fuming, the shattered bangles clenched in my fist.

My eyes fall on the bracelets circling her wrists—one on each arm—gold, ornate, gleaming faintly in the light.

Everyone in the family wears something like them…

and it all clicks—

Just as my bangles suppressed me.

Theirs must have power too ·

Powers against me!

I narrow my eyes at her, as my internal voice drops to a dangerous calm

“Take off your bracelets, Mom.”

Her mind protests “Honestly Cely, I—”

“Take ·

Off ·

Your ·

‘Dessing ·

Bracelets!”

My thoughts are sharp.

Deliberate.

Unflinching.

Final.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Red-haired One|

In the dim light of my room, I fumble through the absence of the usual camera lights and find the controller. A quick press, and the infrared, motion-activated cameras―ceiling and foot-rail―power down.

They’re supposed to stay on 24/7, but some things aren’t meant to be recorded…

which is the reason the software I installed removes any ‘luminous’ colors on all videos or images that are uploaded to the internet…

but software can’t help me squirt…

and not squirting could shatter the carefully curated image of a sultry sex star.

I squat, crouching low…

my hands sliding down instinctively…

touching the entrance to my vajayjay…

finding a tiny rubber hose.

“Hmmm,” I murmur to myself, giving it a gentle tug.

A soft latex bottle emerges, long and cylindrical.

I hold it up, examining it in the faint glow of my bedside lamp.

“Yep,” I whisper, half to myself, half to the void.

I can’t squirt.

My body doesn’t produce those dramatic, voyeur-pleasing fountains that ‘they’ want to see. Instead, my cum bubbles, and dribbles.

But that’s not what pervert voyeurs want.

No.

‘They’ want to see me squirt.

So, here I am.

Before each session, I prep, slipping this soft bottle into place.

At the perfect moment, I use my vaginal muscles to squeeze the soft cylinder, enabling me to ‘squirt.’

The things I do to cater for people’s fetishes.

It’s a routine now,

a ritual.

The things I do to keep the illusion alive.

Being an on-line masturbator probably wouldn’t have been my first choice in life.

Sure, as a nine-year-old elementary student, I wasn’t unaware of sex: at school we—me, Liz, Rubes, Tenille, and Grace—did everything together. We were in the same class and endured ‘Sex Education’ together. And on the playground—recess and lunch—we often joked about sex, and cocks; especially on sleepovers.

But I was just a normal kid. My ninth birthday party was perfectly normal. We had a sleepover at Liz’s house, with the ‘compulsory’ truth or dare games, painting fingernails and toenails, etc.

Afterwards, Liz turned on the TV and used her older sister’s password to open that restricted streaming account. We were only nine (mostly) and still naïve, and after perusing some titillating porn titles, we opted for an R-rated horror movie where we could huddle under a shared blanket, eating crap and screaming our lungs out. I was a normal kid, and, yeah, masturbating on-line to a paying audience was not on the curriculum of my life.

But then it happened.

Was it fate that interceded? ·

Do I even believe in fate?

A few months before I turned ten, I woke up—both literally and figuratively.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve heard Sparkles’s voice in my head.

Loud and clear.

And not just Sparkles.

I could hear everything.

My parents’ thoughts weren’t off-limits, either.

That’s how I learned the truth: my dad was sterile, the result of a bout with measles in his early twenties, and my mom had lost her ability to have children following a severe car accident. I wasn’t theirs by blood. So, even as a young kid, I had stopped calling them ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’—just ‘Margery’ and ‘Bob.’

Hearing their thoughts and truths can be unsettling, but it didn’t stop there. I could catch fleeting thoughts from random people and even animals. For dogs and cats, it was more like fragmented images than actual words.

Sparkles, however, was different. She wasn’t just a voice—I could see and feel her presence, vibrant and alive in my mind.

That morning, though, Sparkles wasn’t her usual self. She woke me up with a jolt, screeching and screaming—

“SCREECH! · IT’S TIME TO FUCK · SCREECH! · IT’S TIME TO FUCK · SCREECH! · ITS TIME TO FUCK”

—over and over,

her voice ricocheted in my head.

It was the first thing I truly remember about that strange, life-altering moment.

The second thing I noticed was the pain—

a terrible, suffocating tightness.

My pajama top and shorts felt unbearably constricting, as though they were shrinking with every breath I took.

They weren’t new; in fact, they were old and frayed, which is why I loved them. Old clothes are always the most comfortable. But now, their comforting familiarity felt like a trap.

The top was the first to go, since I was having difficulty breathing. The buttons strained against the fabric, the threads holding them in place pulling taut against my chest. The constriction hurt, as I struggled to breathe. But the pain ebbed away as soon as I ripped the buttons free, the frayed edges falling apart in my hand.

Then my stomach pain came to the fore. I reached down to my pajama shorts, desperate to relieve that discomfort as well. I found the most worn edge, where the fabric had already started to give way, and with a single tug, I tore them off.

Relief!

The pain was gone.

FEAR!

Everything was bigger.

At first, I panicked.

How did my hips and ass grow so big? ·

And my punani?

In the darkness, I could feel that they were large and swollen

And wet?

With the lights turned off, I couldn’t see, but I could feel.

And my fingers continued exploring upwards:

I could feel the ripples of my stomach muscles.

What the?

In the dark my hands moved up―

And boobs?

They were massive

Why do I now have gigantic boobs when I went to sleep without hardly any?

I touched ‘them’, and ‘they’ were tall, and erect.

And leaking?

And that’s when ‘it’ kicked in:

I was as horny as hell.

Whatever questions I had were pushed aside as those desires consumed me.

I used my fingers and my hands, cumming multiple times…

but it wasn’t enough.

Then I heard ‘him’ from my bedroom.

I stumbled around in the dark and found a torch:

the batteries must have been near-dead because it only produced a yellowy, dim light. But I took it anyway.

Following the noise,

I wandered into the kitchen…

peeked around the corner into the living room:

a glow emanated from the TV, and there was muttering from the sofa. Bob (my not-my-dad) sleep-talking.

The pathetic light of the torch explored:

Bob was wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts, dreaming, whispering ‘Angela’—not his wife’s name—and pulling at the bulge of his boxers.

One of his legs, under the boxers, was throbbing.

But it wasn’t his thigh muscles,

as the tip of the culprit emerged.

I’d been in Sex Ed. and knew what it was: his ‘third leg.’

In his dreaming state, his hand reached down and pulled ‘it’ out.

And I knew I needed it.

I turned off the TV, switched the dim torch to flashing mode, and put it behind me—standing it on its base with the pulsing beam pointing towards the ceiling—allowing my face and body to be masked by darkness and shadows, simply a silhouette…

and pretended to be Angela.

And Bob thought he was just having a wet dream.

In the light of day, staring into the mirror, I didn’t recognize myself.

Yesterday, I was a nine-year-old child.

Today, I looked like a fully grown adult.

It sounds like the plot of a warped Hollywood movie, but this wasn’t fiction. And unlike those stories where a child’s brain remains trapped in an adult body, I was different: my mind had matured too, though it carried the limitations of a nine-year-old’s education.

Fear struck me again, harder this time.

I can’t go to school like this ·

How can I explain this?

If the world found out, I wouldn’t just be an oddity; I’d become a spectacle. At best, a curiosity, made fun of in crappy TV talk shows. At worst, a lab rat to be poked, prodded, and experimented on.

I tried to call my friends, desperate to confide in them, but every time I attempted to explain, the words stuck in my throat.

It wasn’t just speaking; even when I tried texting or emailing, I found myself unable to type out the truth.

Some invisible force rendered me mute whenever I tried to reveal my insane condition.

Oddly enough, I could talk to my so-called parents. I told them everything, expecting shock or even panic.

Instead, they looked at me blankly.

Here I was, a mature woman standing in place of their almost 10-year-old daughter, and all I got was a shrug.

Sparkles chirped somewhere in the background, and Margery picked up the phone. She calmly called the school and told them I had Covid, and that I’d be taking classes online. Next, she called all my friends’ parents and let them know I wouldn’t be available for visits.

Just like that, I became a pariah, cut off from everyone I knew.

I was devastated.

I had no idea if this transformation was permanent—whether I’d stay this way, continue aging prematurely, or somehow revert to normal.

All I knew for certain were two things:

I was an adult.

And I was horny as hell.

So, I did a ‘mind map’—introduced to us by a progressive teacher at school—to come up with some options, which I then formulated into a plan of action:

I was an adult, with an adult mind;

so, I could advance quickly through the school system which still viewed me as being a child—but only if I was in an expensive online school—which would require money.

Money.

Everything revolves around money.

Because I looked like an adult, I would also be able to get a fake ID showing that I was twenty-five years old and get a night-time job to support my schooling.

In other words, I would have to live two lives until my age caught up with my appearance.

If it did.

But, both the online school and the fake ID cost upfront money, and that’s where it began:

I had orgasmic issues, and a laptop with a camera…

and the internet.

Why not use that to gain financial success?

So, I became a mattress actress!

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Rosario & CELIA

“Fine!” she snaps, clearly upset.

She unclasps the two bracelets

and pulls them off,

dropping them on the counter above the sink.

She sighs, as she adds detergent to the water filling up the sink, and I can see the wheels in her brain turning over.

With bubbles frothing, Mom drowns the plates,

and finally turns to me, looking down into my eyes:

“Well, it’s time you knew, Cely · They hadn’t planned for you—”

“OMdess! · You were going to terminate me? · Kill me?” I ask, panic rising.

“Please, Cely · Stop reading so deep,” she thinks, her internal voice steadying.

But there’s something blocking my ability to read all her thoughts.

“I can’t read too deep · There’s another barrier · There’s ‘humming coming from your feet · You’re wearing one on each of your ankles!”

“No, Celia! · There are limits to what you should know · You shouldn’t read my deepest darkest subconscious · But I will be honest with you · I promise.”

“Okay” I relent.

Because her thoughts resonate with powerful parental displeasure.

And fear.

I take deep breath,

“You can keep the anklets on · But I want the truth · NOW!”

Mom breathes in deeply,

exhales,

and settles herself,

“Many years before you were born—”

“Who’s ‘They?” I interrupt.

I might not be able to see everything, but I am going to question.

“My Nest,” she says, looking me straight in the eyes. “I’m Thauma”

“Whatttt? · THAUMA? · NAH! · You’re human!”

“No,” she thinks calmly, “I’m Thau—”

“Dad would never had marri—”

“He married me” · she thinks softly · “because I was cast out—”

“Yes, cast out · I know the story · You’re no longer Thauma”

“That’s what your father believes · And that’s the story he tells · But being Thauma isn’t just a political association or a philosophical code · As much as your father wishes it to be so · Yes, I unaligned myself with the Nest · But my very birth occurred majekely · I may look human · But I’m not human.”

“But the tests · I know about the—”

“Manipulated · Doctored · Majeked · Cely, I’m not human.”

“Noooot” · I drag the words out, disbelief settling in · “Huuuman?”

“My anatomy looks similar to humans · But I have hollow bones · And so do you!”

“I’m not human?”

“No · Thauma came to this planet just before our home-world collapsed · Come on, Cely · You’re an intelligent young woman · Mind-links · Charmed bracelets and bangles · Divinations · Incantations · You’ve been with me almost every day · What part of anything I do seems remotely human?”

“Ummm …?”

“I guess it’s my fault, really · I wanted you to grow up with Majek as if it were the norm · If I had told you earlier, you might have psychologically compartmentalized Humanity and Thauma · I wanted you to experience them both and see them as mutually inclusive · Just a part of who you are · I guess I succeeded too well.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“Cely · You haven’t seen everything.”

Mom puts a long dish scrubber into the frothy sink…

the brush immersed in the water, with it’s handle sticking out of the water, standing horizontal…

her right index finger makes circles in the air…

and the brush starts cleaning the dishes by itself.

“You didn’t give up magic?”

“Majek,” · she corrects.

“And, no.”

Mom’s answer is plan and simple.

But that only leaves more questions.

Lots of questions.

“But Dad’s Secundii · I should be fully Secundii · And if I’m not · Doesn’t that mean I’m a Witch?”

“No · A Witch is half-Sapien half-Thauma · You’re half Secundii · But Full Thauma.”

“Nah · Those fractions don’t work.”

“Perhaps not · But this is Majek we’re talking about.”

“But ·

But ·

If that’s true then ·

Then ·

That means I’m ·

‘Des ·

I’m ·

I’m one of the forbidden ·

A crossbreed ·

An ILLEGAL HYBRID!”—

Darkness.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Red-haired One

I clap my hands, and the whole room is now bathed in a soft, ambient glow.

While some might call it a ‘bedroom,’ I prefer to think of it as my ‘studio.’ It’s a meticulously designed, multifunctional workspace, tailored to meet my unique needs.

The top bunk is where my on-line masturbations occur.

The bottom bunk is a queen-size bed, which is used for filming my sexual liaisons—male or female—all are welcome…

if they don’t mind being recorded.

Most don’t, as long as their anonymity is preserved, and I have an extensive collection of eye masks to conceal their identity….

If they want.

And it’s where my four-girl-action will occur next week for my Valentine’s Day special.

My fans are gonna love it!

My studio doubles as a versatile space, complete with a booth for professional-looking bikini and video shoots, a spa bath, a large shower, and a dedicated pole-dancing cubicle… and a long, spacious, and well-stocked walk-in wardrobe adds to the setup’s functionality.

And, cameras are strategically placed everywhere, capturing every angle of my work.

Of course, it all came at a cost:

And it didn’t happen over night.

When ‘the change’ first happened, I had almost nothing: just a laptop and an internet connection. But from those humble beginnings, I’ve built a thriving, lucrative business:

From a built-in-camera laptop, I progressed to Lovense’s ‘4K Webcam 2’, and then eventually setting up my multi-cam studio;

Starting with solo shows featuring stripping and nudity, I developed to basic self-play, then advancing to filming with interactive toys and partners.

But simply performing is never the full story…to become proficient, I had to study.

It was early 2024, and the world was coming out of the pandemic. The internet, over the pandemic years, had become a chaotic playground for bored adolescents stuck at home with no income and too much time on their hands. Many turned to the digital stage, unpolished and untrained, exposing themselves for attention.

And a quick buck.

I took a different approach. I studied the professionals—the masters—of the online performance world. I used SVAKOM’s toys, interacting with adult films via their Koosync App, learning from the professionals.

I also critically analyzed every one of my performances, striving to perfect my craft. I honed my skills, evaluating and refining each detail.

And in the dark, still, quiet hours of pre-dawn, I had a unique way to practice: on my not-my-real-dad during his recurring sex dreams.

When it came to school, navigating online schoolwork with an adult mind was effortless.

I breezed through the system.

I could have gone to college, way ahead of my friends.

Instead, I worked on my techniques… and my website.

By the time they caught up—when I turned eighteen, last year—we naturally reconnected at college, picking up where we had left off.

Away from Sparkles, I finally found myself able to share some of my unique qualities with them.

Some.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Rosa & CELIA

“Celia!

You’re hyperventilating! ·

Celia!”

I can’t see anything, but her voice cuts through the chaos, grounding me.

“Calm ·

Calm down, Cely ·

yes ·

that’s it ·

breathe ·

breathe deeply ·

in and out ·

take control ·

that’s good ·

feeling better?”

I nod, focusing on her words, the steady rhythm anchoring me.

I’m starting to notice things.

I’m sitting on the floor,

my back against the cupboard

beneath the sink.

Did I really faint? ·

I must have!

Mom helps me up…

to sit in a chair by the sink…

a plate now mysteriously rising out of the water,

hovering over the sink,

allowing the brush to do its work.

Mom sits on another seat opposite me, and holds my hands:

“Okay, Cely?”

I nod.

Though nothing is really alright.

My whole world turned upside down.

Again.

The first time was when Dad revealed that I wasn’t a Sapien, but Secundii, with an ancient obligation to protect the Sapiens.

The second, swiftly after, was that since I was Secundii—a female Secundii—my only role was to be a womb.

Now, Mom tells me that I’m the very ‘thing’ my Dad abhors;

the ‘thing’ I’m supposed to protect Sapiens against;

worse, the very ‘thing’ Secundii are supposed to destroy!

How is any of this okay?

“Now, Cely, keep calm while I explain · The Echelon have their laws about hybrids ·But the reality is that all humans are mixes Their blood mixed with the species of the Alliance · Thauma—with Vampyr, Elves, Fae, and other beings―Were never native to this world · We came here through a spatial vortex when our homeland was dying · Came to this world populated by diverse species of primitive humans · And, well · Became their gods.”

I blink, processing her words.

“Gods? ·

As in ·

Deities to be worshipped?”

Mom nods, unperturbed.

“Back then, before the ‘Demise,’ intermingling was… · Common · Sexual relations between us and humans led to what you now call humanity · Every modern human carries traces of our DNA.”

“So, humanity has · Alien DNA?”

“That’s one way of putting it” she thinks wryly “Your father, of course, would prefer words like ‘unnatural’ or ‘tainted’ · I lean more toward ‘inhuman’ or · As you said · ‘Hybrid.’”

“Okay, but if I’m Thauma, why would your coven want me dead?”

Mom’s face darkens, her usually composed expression cracking slightly.

“It’s · Complicated.”

With the anxiety fading and my mind clearer, I cross my arms, leveling her with a firm stare.

“Then uncomplicate it ·

Start at the beginning”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Red-haired One

I find a dry area on my sex blanket and use it to wipe away the glowing remnants scattered across my skin—breasts, stomach, and pelvis—several times.

When satisfied that I’m dry,

I ball up the blanket

and toss it onto the floor.

Slipping my arms into my pink mesh gown,

I take a moment to adjust its delicate fabric against my body.

For the other cameras, still recording and live, I climb down the ladder in a deliberate, unhurried descent.

Once on the floor, I let the sheer gown slide off my shoulders.

In nothing but my skin―and stilettos―I give a playful wiggle of my hips, sashaying past the dolly Cam to my left—normally trained on the mirrored cubicle, but now following me—and the bird, Sparkles, perched on the crest of the computer chair to my right;

past the shower on my left, and the spa on my right…

and stroll into the spacious walk-in wardrobe, the cool air brushing against my bare skin.

Grabbing a perfume bottle,

I spray a delicate mist into the air

and step into its sweet, lingering embrace.

“Hehehe,” I chuckle softly to myself, my voice echoing in the open space, “time for a new profile pic…

and a slow-stripping Spot.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Rosa & CELY

“You’re right Cely · The beginning · So…”

Mom lets out a huge exhalation, as the first plate moves in the air from the sink onto the drying rack, as if carried by an invisible being.

I brace myself for another set of mind-blowing revelations.

But I’m in control.

I will understand everything.

“Cely, for a long time, we’ve be—”

“Your coven?”

“Our Nest · We’re not witches, Cely,” Rosa sighs. “We had concerns about rumors about the Echelon · We believed that they’d committed heinous crimes against the various species from our home world · But we needed proof · After much consideration, we decided to send one of our own as an undercover agent · That person had to be Thauma · But they also had to bear the symbol of the Echelon”

“So, they needed to be Thauma and Secundii? · That’s impossible”

“Is it?”

“Of course · Secundii genetics override all other DNA · That’s why all Secundii look exactly—OH EM ‘DESS!”

“That’s right · You’re not five-foot-seven · Are you?

“I…”

“We had Majek that could be manipulated to overpower Secundii genetics · But it was untested for that purpose · So, I volunteered to find a ‘mark’ and get them impregnated, and—”

“What’s hard about that?”

“The ‘mark’ had to have impeccable breeding · Descended from the Secundii line · But whose family ancestry was untainted by any Fae bloodline”

“But I thought Secundii couldn’t be ‘tainted’”

“Not while they only married within their own species · But for years many Secundii have been forced to take Sapien partners · And it was those Sapien partners that could carry Fae—”

“Whorefae?”

“Can you please, Cely, stop jumping the gun when you read my mind?” · sighs · “Yes, that’s a label we gave them · They were · Um · Like prostitutes · In the home world · The whorefae were despised in our world · After the vortex brought us here, whorefae sought out other ‘companionship’ · They found the humans · Many different species · Some little more than tree-dwelling, big-dicked, hairy apes · So, they humped them all · Discovering after some time that with their majek they could alter the human’s genetics · So, they did · Despite the protests from Thauma”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Red-haired One

I approach a cabinet with its full-length mirror,

and gaze at my red, swollen, horseshoe-shaped vulva.

Shaving was a nice touch in that story · I muse to myself ·

But thank fuq I’m naturally ‘Hollywood’ ·

Having to shave or wax all the time would really suck.

Opening the cabinet door,

I take off my lace ears,

and I pull out a pair of red ears

and—discreetly making sure my hair covers my actual ears—affix them to my head, adjusting them until they sit just right.

From a nearby drawer, I retrieve a small pouch,

emptying its contents into my left hand.

“Mmmm,” I murmur, a smile spreading across my face as I study the sleek, silver, adjustable plug with its accompanying remote control.

Pressing a button, I cycle through the settings, settling on a vibrant red glow emanating softly from the device.

I bend over, straddling my legs, ensuring the camera has the perfect angle.

In my hand, the red hue casts an alluring shimmer on my skin, as it moves across my wide ass towards my a-hole.

A soft moan escapes me as I guide the glowing plug, pushing it inwards.

With its poseable feature, I point it directly at the camera.

“Nothing sells sex like the red-light district,” I muse, my voice low and playful, as I direct the light downwards.

Now, I reach for the sparkling red stilettos nearby, sliding them onto my feet with a practiced ease.

Turning to the vanity,

I open the second drawer,

removing my nipple clamps,

and pulling out three heart-shaped red pasties with tassels.

Peeling off the adhesive backing,

|I carefully press them onto my skin—two over my nipples and one on my stomach―completing the look.

From the top draw: a white haired merkin to cover my puffy red mound. They know it’s hairless…

but it’s something different…

and some of my patrons like ‘it’ hairy.

The lipstick collection rests beside the mirror, and I pick the red shade matching my hair, applying it to my lips without glancing at the reflection.

When I’m done,

I check myself in the mirror…

blow a kiss, “Mwah!”

“Perfect,” I whisper, going to the ‘Fetish Queen’ section,

grabbing a red skater skirt.

“Almost ready.”

I slip a matching red vest from the hanger and carry both pieces deeper into the walk-in wardrobe.

Positioning myself in the center of the aisle, I face the camera mounted on a tripod several feet away. It is motion-activated, so it records everything.

May as well pose like this first.

I drop the clothes onto a table just out of frame,

“Action,”

then strike a pose: legs spread wide, both hands tugging at the nipple tassels.

“Yoga,” I announce with a flourish.

I shift into a new position. “Mocha.”

Another change of stance: “Fuqa…

Cut!”

The camera continues to roll, as I get ready for my next set.

I step into the mini skirt,

sliding it up and over my hips.

Now the vest,

pulling my arms through the holes,

I adjust the wide v-neck pushing it down underneath my boobs so that it acts as an underbust corset.

“Roll…

Wanna see me undress? Sign up now!” I tease.

I start my posing:

“Yoga.

Mocha.

Fuqa.

Cut!”

I take a quick breather…

“Action!”

Slowly I begin a striptease,

removing everything

one-by-one

—except for the red heels, tassels on nipples and stomach, white-haired merkin, and my long fake ears.

“Cut!”

“Nice!” I mutter to myself, grinning.

Turning toward the cameras, I speak aloud,

“Now, time for—FUQ!”

I should have mentioned the link to ·

Nevermind ·

I’ll fix that in the edit later ·

Can’t keep forgetting my affiliations ·

I’ll do one more!

I race back to the clothes section of my wardrobe,

getting dressed into the ‘Pam’ blue lingerie, and a yellow skirt and top set, with black heels.

A quick check of my hair and makeup…

Tick!

This time, I will remember my affiliation.

“Today I’m wearing an outer set from ‘Runwayfashionista.”

I start my poses,

silently mouthing those words with each new postion.

Yoga ·

Mocha ·

Fuqa.

“And underneath?

‘Dulce Store Paris.’”

And then the strip tease,

as the top layer of clothes are thrown out of view,

as I dance and twirl…

showing off the blue transparent set.

“Oops,” I say, teasingly, “that’s not right,”

pulling down my panties so they can see the white-haired merkin clearly…

pulling them off, revealing my swollen red hairless pussy.

“That’s better,” throwing the merkin out of view.

I pull my blue transparent panties tight, so that the material disappears, swallowed by my horseshoe-shaped cunt.

I swivel them down as sexily as possible.

Panties in hand, and with exaggerated movements, I rub my swollen cunt with them.

“These,” holding up the now moist panties, “up for auction tomorrow!

Cut!”

Time for a meal break.

Yeah, I know it’s not a menial 9-5 job.

But I’ve been at this since 9pm, and it can be exhausting.

It is ‘manual’ work after all · sniggering to myself.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Rosa

“Much of what Sapiens are today are because of Fae modification · Brain capacity, longer lifespan, greater fertility · And there were other indicators of Fae DNA · The majek we had to perform would bring out other genes · Cely, we had to make sure there was no lineage of Fae involved · And the only sure way of know—”

“Was to choose a pure Secundii line.”

“Yes, Cely,” audibly sighing, “a Secundii line that had never married a Sapien · And we found one · She was quite pretty—”

“Mom! · She was really beautiful!”

“Her egg and my egg · It should have worked · But it was a failure, Cely · Her baby was…”

“Something else?”

“Ugh—”

“How was she different, Mom?”

“Just not what our divinations expected · So, we concentrated on the males · And found two Secundii who seemed to fit the bill · Whose lineage was impeccable · And eventually chose—”

“Dad!”

“Yes, your father · I was the first outsider in his line · Our first child was, however, a bo—”

“Dion!”

“Yes · But—”

“Mom, isn’t it illegal for Thauma to raise males!”

“Celia Devika Eridu!”

Uh-oh.

I know I’ve crossed a line when Mom uses my full name.

“Your brother’s not one of us · He’s full Secundii.”

“But why is—”

“I can’t talk about that, Celia.”

Mom’s thoughts are unrepentant.

Law.

L.A.W.

“And you need to stop asking about that!”

“Fine.”

I’m exasperated by that, but it’s obvious that she won’t be volunteering any details about Dion, and that info is clearly locked away, courtesy of those anklets she’s still wearing.

I move our telepathic conversation forwards:

“So, you needed a daughter”

“Yes, Cely · Several years late—”

“Years, Mom?”

“It was a long-term plan, Cely · And will you please stop jumping the gun? · Your father’s lineage never produced females · After trial and error, I eventually imbued a diaphragm with special properties · It had a microscopic hole in it that only allowed ‘x’ sperm through · After your father—”

“Ewwww!”

“Cely, don’t be a child · It’s perfectly natural.”

“Mom! · It’s one thing to see other people have sex · Quite another seeing one’s own parents getting it on · Having that seared into my memory!”

“Are you finished with your hissy fit?”

I nod.

“Do you think, Cely, I can continue without your constant interruptions?

I nod again.

“Thank you! · As I was saying · I timed your inception perfectly to align with the exact initial phase of the Pink Full Moon · I then went to my Nest · And in a sacred spelled ceremony · I had sex with my partner—”

“Your partner? · What ceremony?”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Red-haired One

Mmmm. “What color?” I ask aloud.

Everything in my wardrobe—as in my studio/bedroom—is either streamed live by those motion-activated cameras or recorded for later editing.

So, I often verbalize my thoughts as I’m doing right now.

I pause for a moment, considering the color.

“Black,” I announce, kicking off my black heels—which I’ve been wearing since my last spot.

I bend down to select a pair of ‘Fetish Queen’ sleek black ankle boots with six-inch stilettos from beneath the clothes.

I slide them on, adjusting the fit.

I replace my yellow lace ears for a pair of black wolf-themed ones, making sure my hair fully covers my real ears. The yellow tassel nipple pastie, which had been covering my belly button zone, is replaced with a bold ‘Fuck’ sticker, though I make sure I’m facing away from all cameras as I do this

They can’t know.

I sift through a particular section of my hanging clothes until I find what I want.

All my clothes are organized into affiliated companies.

The last thing I need is to advertise the wrong product.

Still in the ‘Fetish-Queen’ section:

“I’ll go with this,” I say to my potential audience, as I pull out a black, glossy, pleated micro mini skirt.

“And,” stepping into the mini skirt, “I’m going commando today!”

Squeezing my curvy ass into the skin-tight elastane micro skirt…

“Ummph, mph, ahhh!

This is gonna be a hot look!”

I turn toward the full-length mirror across from the vanity, admiring my reflection.

My figure—41-20-41—looks stunning in the skirt, which perfectly complements my wide hips.

It’s so short that I can see the curve of my ass as I pivot.

I smile, taking in the view of my tiny waist and toned abs.

“The slim thicc queen—Fuq yer, I’m—

DAFUQ?

What happened to the power?”

The power must have gone off while I ate a microwave dinner in the kitchen.

But I have my own power generator for my bedroom studio.

They should have started automatically.

But they haven’t.

The proof being the missing red recording light.

It didn’t register with me, because my room lights are still working, since they’re solar-powered.

Can’t believe it ·

Perfect stream op or a snap-by-snap ·

And I missed it.

I storm back to the bunk bed

Oh well ·

It’s too late to strip off and start again ·

Not a total loss ·

Can still post a thirst trap before I choose my top ·

And…

get some products for the next section.

Kneeling at the base of the lower bunk bed,

open the ‘USED’ drawer,

seeing several of my affiliate brands, with panties in vacuum-sealed plastic bags, with various labels:

‘Coklitka’

‘Deegnx’

‘Discreet Loving’

‘Dulce Store Paris’

‘EKNA Intimates’

‘Hello L.A. Girl’

‘Naughty Girl Shop’

‘the-bikini dot com’

I pull out a sealed packet with blue panties, labelled ‘Naughty Girl Shop.’

“Thanks Liz!”

Can’t have people seeing my dried glowing cum.

Now, pick out one pack labelled ‘Coklitka’ from the ‘Unused’ drawer

Time to announce the Panty auction!

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Rosa and CELY

“Every Thauma, Cely, has a Thauma partner · My life as a ‘dis-avowed’ is a pretense · My partner understands this · We come together every few months as time allows”

“And this ceremony, Mom?”

“To add her DNA into the fertilized egg · The egg that was you.”

“What? · How?”

“On May Day · Surrounded by the Nest · My partner and I had sex · Tribadism · This is the way that all Thauma conceive since ‘the Demise’”

“OMDess · Mom? · You were naked · And had sex in front of everyone?”

“Yes · But apart from their black hooded boleros · Thauma were naked too · And after the spell requirements · The gathering usually descends into an orgy · Watching others have sex is quite stimulating” laughing.

“Oh ‘Dess!”

“What is it?”

“Nothing, Mom · So, Tribadism?”

“Yes · Generally in the scissor position · Though some. for romantical reasons, prefer the missionary position · This generation of younger Thauma tend to be more exhibitionist and experimental and prefer a variety positions like cowgirl · Front, reverse, side saddle · Or squatting on Viennese Oyster—”

“Urghhh · Mom!”

“You did ask Cely · And after all you’ve seen in our mind-casts I’m not sure why you’re embarrassed · Anyway, it’s vulva on vulva · Enchantments compel the orgasmic juices to seal the vulvae—”

“I can see Mom · But I don’t understand how?”

“Wearing bracelets prior · Similar to yours · Preventing orgasms · When the bracelets are broke—”

“Multiple orgasms · Now, Mom, I understand”

“They create enough orgasmic juices which seal the touching vulvae · Spells are then vocalized that allow the egg of one Thauma to travel in the orgasmic juices to the other Thauma through the conjoined vulvae · Both eggs, in the other Thauma, unite forming one egg with two DN—”

“And two years later she gives birth · And you did that with me, Mom?

“For you, the spell cast was ancient · Not used for thousands of years · But evoked for your conception · Because of my already fertilized egg · Courtesy of your father · We weren’t sure how long the gestation period would b—”

“Two years for Thauma, Mom?”

“Yes · But thank Isis it was a more human time frame.”

“So? · What happened Mom? · Those memories are blocked.”

“Well, everything seemed fine · Born on Lincoln’s birthday, you were a cute copper-skinned baby girl, with mousey-blonde hair and emerald eyes · Perfect Secundii breeding with rhesus negative—”

“What’s blood-type got to do with it?”

“Every species from our world is rhesus negative · Majek confirmed that you were both Secundii and Thauma · All I had to do was raise you as a human until you were Thauma-enlightened—”

“But?”

“Cely, you were about three when you first discovered this gift you’re using right now · Your telepathy · Out of all the species, only the Fae had this gift in such wide parameters · Plus, you developed acute hearing, not to mention your, um, powers of persuasion · It sent the Nest into a flurry · How could this be? · After all our careful deliberation and planning? · Divinations · were applied ·And they came bac—”

“Nah!”

“Yes · You were fully Fae!”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Red-haired One

Raising the cell phone,

I check to make sure that the outfit is visible, and that my face and perky breasts are in view—

‘Click!’

“Now to video.”

Holding the cellphone,

I direct the screen towards my feet, and start recording as I slowly move the cell upwards:

Black ankle boot stilettos;

shapely pale calves;

bare white thighs;

cute tiny black skirt;

I turn around, slightly lifting the skirt:

curvy naked ass;

Revolve back, raising the front:

red swollen taco;

impossibly small waist;

the lower pair of alabaster-colored abs;

the ‘Fuck You’ sticker;

two more sets of white semen-tinted ripped abs;

big boobs—gravity-defying and free;

dark red areolas and inch-long nipples;

red hair flowing around them;

black choker;

full red lips;

on a beautiful heart-shaped pale face;

bright wide sapphire eyes;

red wavy hair flowing free—

“Sparkles!

What DaFuq?

That was perfect until you, you…

ARGH!

I should’ve named you ‘Videobomb.’”

The bird chirrups.

I regain my composure,

positioning my right index finger—horizontal—near the bird’s belly,

“Yes,” giggling, “I know I didn’t name you.”

The bird—with its prominent peach cheeks and bright yellow crest—steps up,

and I raise my arm horizontally.

She walks up my arm…

onto my shoulder…

ruffles her feathers as she settles down….

tucks one leg up into her underbelly…

and then closes her eyes.

“Ummm, sleepyhead.

Okay!

Now I’m back on track.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELY

“OMDess?!?

I need to keep calm ·

I want to keep calm ·

I practice my breathing.

In ·

Out-Out ·

In ·

Out-Out ·

In ·

Out-Out.

Yes ·

I am calm.

“Fae? · How was that possible?”

“Well, that was our question too · From our collective memory, you didn’t possess any of the physical traits traditionally associated with Fae · Blue eyes, flame-red hair, or—”

“Mom, none of those sound special.”

“Sure, it doesn’t ‘sound special’ · Until you look at the facts · Only seventeen percent of Ordinary humans have blue eyes · And even less have vivid fire-blue eyes · One to two percent have various shades of red hair · But none have flame-red hair—”

“C’mon Mom · There’s plenty of people with flame-red hair.”

“Yes, there are red-haired people, Cely · But not the flame-red I’m talking about · Fae hair mimicked fire itself · As passions were ignited, the color of their hair resembled the differing colors of live fire.”

“Really, Mom? · You can’t be serious”

“So, the stories go · Returning to the Ords · You’ve done your studies · How many have both blue eyes and red hair?”

“I think it’s only about oh-point-seventeen percent.”

“Exactly · Another feature from the Fae is Alabaster skin · Found in less than twelve percent of Ordinary humans.”

“Mom!”

This is really dessing frustrating.

“I don’t know where you’re going with all this · but I don’t have any of those features.”

“That is precisely the point · You didn’t present with any of the exterior characteristics of Fae · But you had their mental abilities · And we didn’t have a lot of information available to us · The Fae died out—we suspect exterminated—one and a half Millennia ago · Also, much of our records about the Fae had been lost—shattered—mostly unreadable, except for a few shards · But one, suggested a theory · The Fae Queen seduced everyone with two feet and a heartbeat—”

“Yeah, I heard about those tales.”

“But what you didn’t know was that with her lovers that she truly favored · She would impart her DNA into them · DNA that would lay dormant, until released into the next female descendant · Your Great-Ancestor on your father’s side had a fiery affair with the last Fae Queen ·And since you are his first female progeny · We think the Fae Queen did that to your ancestor · At least that’s the only explanation that makes any sense.”

Ummm ·

Is that how the Fae altered human genetics? ·

DNA that only exhibited in the next female?

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Red-haired One

Still topless, I return to the hanging clothes,

slowly sifting through them.

I really need a matching top.

I rummage through the various tops on hangers,

all the way to the end of the line—

It’s not here.

“FUQ IT!”

Should probably check the floo—

“Ahhh, there you are—fallen down.”

Good job it’s synthetic.

With the top in hand,

I head to the vanity

and pick a small bra from the top drawer

Umm ·

This feels like a comfortable one.

I lay the bra on the vanity, cup upside down with the padded inserts still inside.

I bought it—not for me, but for her.

“Sorry, Sparkles,” I say, gently pushing her underbelly to make the sleepy Lutino Cockatiel perch onto my finger,

“Time for bed. Oh, such pretty fire,” setting the small bird into the soft cup of the t-shirt bra.

“But why are you dreaming of fire, little one?”

Sparkles settles—feathers ruffled—on one leg,

eyes closing again as she drifts back to sleep inside the bra cup.

With Sparkles off me, I can now stuff my luscious boobs into the all-too-tight matching top.

“Uummhh”

Ahhh · Perfect!

My breasts are taut against the black fabric, erect nipples seemingly attempting to bore a hole through the material

Fuq ·

I love my tits.

I smile at my full reflection

I might be only 4’12” ·

But my body rocks in this outfit ·

No ·

My body just rocks!

I attach the cell onto an extender, making sure that the view includes my whole profile—

‘Click!’

“Damn! I’m getting some tonight!”

And I don’t care about being ‘safe’ ·

I’m just so fuqin horny! ·

Which reminds me ·

I need to call the electrical guy ·

Gonna film me teasing him ·

Gonna fuq him real good ·

Fuq the fans ·

I’d fuq him for free!

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELY

So…

Musing as I gaze at the full rack of washed plates but not really seeing them. In fact, I’d forgotten all about them.

In a way…

The self-washing plates—once an interesting curiosity—I no longer care about. This theory is far more interesting. History is my great love after all!

The hypothetical ‘Mitochondrial Eve’ ·

She really was the mother of humanity!

Well not my line, apparently· ·

But certainly of the Sapiens.

“Cely?”

“Sorry, Mom, thoughts went off on a tangent · Why would being Fae garner my death warrant?”

“Cely, you have to see it from my Nest’s perspective · Our covert operation was designed to be operated by Thauma-Secundii hybrid—a high-brain functioning Sentinel—which we created · The plan was meticulously crafted to secure a lineage as free from Fae genetics as possible · Instead, we got a baby who was more Fae than human! · So… yes, there were calls to · Um · Ur” · Coughs awkwardly, “Start again.”

“Yet here I am, Mom.”

“Yes, and you can thank your other mother for that · She railed to your defense and was most vocal to keep you and the continuation of the plan · Plus, your mental powers were seen as potential useful tools · Further investigation revealed something extraordinary— you possessed eggs · Only the Fae Queen had eggs—”

“All the other Fae were sterile?”

“A-huh.” nodding.

I blink

the realization dawning:

“I’m the new Fae Queen?

“Which also increased support for sparing your life · As a potential Fae Queen, you carried the hope of reviving the Fae from extinction · Traditionally, our Nest was an enemy of the Fae—we fought them in the war · But with you, a Thauma hybrid, there was a chance for a new kind of Fae, one capable of acting with intelligence, not just baser inst—”

“Instead of the ‘whorefae’ you abhorred.”

“Umm” · she admits reluctantly · “Yes · And, for the most part, it worked · You were a brilliant student, hungry to learn · And we eagerly anticipated the day you would come into your Thauma powers · Which is only just beginning to happen now · The only significant challenge arose when, at the age of ten, you became—”

“Obsessed with orgasms?”

“Well, first, you turned twenty-two years old overnight” she begins, “But yes, it’s true · Every waking moment became about finding opportunities for… self-love.”

“Yeah · So you took away my orgasmic cravings · Hid my memories · And even robbed me of the ability to orgasm · ^Did I remember to say ‘thank you’?^”

“Cely” she replies, exasperation evident, “I know you’re angry · But the charmed bracelet was, in our view, the only viable solution · It allowed you to focus on learning · At least until you came into your powers and could regulate yourself.”

“Why ten?” I question, some things in her mind still being too indistinct to see clearly.

“As I said” she explains, “That’s when your other physical traits developed, and you… blossomed—”

“MOM!”

“Blossomed overnight into this beautiful adult woman.” she continues, her tone softer but unwavering.

“This” · I gesture to my body, exasperated · “This is not beautiful · It’s ridiculous! · Everything about me is wrong · Why can’t I just be a decent 5’5”, with a 45/55—”

“Hah” she interrupts with a smirk “You want ‘beckoning breasts, Cely?”

“Yeah, Mom!” I shoot back, my irritation growing.

“You want nice C cups with upwards pointing nipp—”

“At 20 degrees” I interrupt her “Yeah · Anything but these horrendous things”

“Daughter, daughter,” she rolls her eyes, then sighs, shaking her head “Your perspective of beauty is just one small aspect of broader 21st Century Americana · I only have A cups—almost flat-chested—but that was considered beautiful in the 1920’s”

“But Mom · My body · It’s a distortion of blown out proportions!”

“Yes, it is” she admits, her tone calm “And it’s distinctly Fae · Fae beauty was celebrated with statues such as the Didarganj Yak—”

“That’s ridiculous, Mom! ·That statue was 5’3” and doesn’t look anything like me”

“It was created many years after the last Fae disappeared, granted · So they got a few things wrong” Mom thinks, her mental tone both firm and amused “But there are several body aspects of that statue that fit you to a T · You’d have to be wearing blinders not to notice · Your breasts, narrow waist, and wide hips · You’re the epitome of beauty in the Mauran Empire · And who do you suppose inspired their standards of beauty?”

I sigh,

defeatedly

“The Fae.”

“Thank Isis for that! · Now, tell me if anything of this resonates with you · Five feet in height · Round, unnaturally horizontal breasts with fully erect nipples · A tiny slim waist with curvy hips· An incredible hourglass shape of 41-20-41?”

“Incredible? · Try ridiculous”

“Celia Devika Eridu” she chides gently “You have a beautiful Fae body · Well, apart from the bellybutton.”

Mom always uses my full name when chastising.

“My navel should be an ‘outie’?” I quip.

“No” she corrects with a grin “Fae didn’t have bellybuttons · But, apart from that, yes, it’s definitely Fae”

“And these bug eyes?”

“Your protruding eyes are stunning · It’s definitely not Thauma · And definitely not from your father’s Secundii line · So we can only assume that it’s Fae · But it does add to your unique, sensual body · Now grab a tee towel”

throwing me one,

“And help me dry the dishes.”

“Mom · Tea-towels are unhygienic”

“These are Majekel ones.”

“Why can’t you Majek them dry?”

“Your first lesson in Majek, Cely · Majek is not the answer to everything · It’s not a cure-all.”

I’m still dissatisfied with her answers,

but…

I start drying a plate.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Red-haired One

I attach the cell onto a wall bracket in my walk-in-wardrobe,

hit ‘stream’:

“Hi Peeps! Today’s look,” I say, gesturing to my outfit with a playful grin, “is what I like to call the ‘3-bar riff’:

short boots covering my feet and ankles;

a strip of material over my hips;

and a single strap across my boobs.

Simple, bold, and ready to slay!

The ‘3-bar riff’ is so irresistible, it practically sings the sweet sound of S. E. X!”

‘4- bar riff’ if I include the choker!

“Okay, so my top and skirt are available at the link on my website.”

I better add in those links to ‘Fetish Queen’ when I stream this recording ·

I want those affiliate rewards!

I turn slightly, adding with a giggle, “My panty-free booty? Well, that’s all me!

And these ankle-boot stilettos? Yep, also from ‘Fetish Queen’.

You can mix and match the ‘3-bar riff’ with other colors—or even layer multiple colors for a fabulous rainbow effect.”

I hold up a vibrant accessory. “While I’ve gone for classic black today, I’m adding this rainbow wolf tail to my look—to let everyone know I’m up for anything! Want to see me plug it up my Ass?” I tease with a smirk.

Well, for that, you’ll need to join as a next-tier member.”

Turning up the charm, I continue,

“For those new to my channel, here’s how it works: there are six different tiers, and the highest tier gives you everything, including access to the night-cams: Two live feeds, from different angles, of me sleeping. And just so you know, I sleep naked, have frequent wet dreams, and, well… occasional visitors!”

Perhaps I could organize the electrical guy to be part of my Valentine’s Day special ·

I know he would be up for it ·

He’s a horny fuqer ·

And nice and thick!

I lean in conspiratorially. “Now, as part of my weekly special, I read and reply to one message from a lucky fan. This week’s pick is from Rick. Rick—can I call you Ricky? Ricky asks: ‘Are you really horny, or are you just pretending?’’”

I laugh softly. “Well, Ricky, I won’t lie. Every woman knows how to fake it; it’s all about making the right sounds:

Oh!

Gngh!

Oooo … you’re so big!

Give it to me baby!

AAAAAHHHH!

OHHHH …

FUUUUUQQ,”

I dissolve into giggles.

“Convincing, right? We can all fake it,” I say with a knowing smile. “Ninety-nine percent of the videos you see on the web are just that: pretend.

Sure, hard nipples can be a sign of being horny, but with all the fake boobs out there, who can really tell?”

I lean in closer, my voice dropping playfully,

“The real indicator of true horniness?

Squirting nipples.

And let me tell you—my boobs are 100% real.”

Lifting my tube top in a cheeky live ‘show-and-tell,’ revealing my breasts.

I peel off one of the nipple covers:

“My painted nipples,” I say, circling the dark red inch-tall peak of my right one with a raised finger,

“are hard.

And when I’m super horny”—

I pause,

gently pressing under the nipple.

A dazzling white droplet appears, glistening

before falling onto my fingertip—

“my nipples leak.

Call it my ‘pre-cum!’” I giggle mischievously,

“and they squirt in every video I stream!”

“And,” holding up a pair of black panties,

I squirt down there too.

This is one of my favorite pairs from ‘Coklitka.’”

Pulling them on…

releasing my black skirt to the floor…

A new version of the ‘3 bar rift’!

“This is the panty from the ‘Midnight Secret’ set…

and it’s coming up for auction in four days time.

Why four days?

Because, starting tomorrow, I will wear it non-stop for three days…

as it absorbs my sweat…

cum…

piss…

I can even promise not to wipe my fuqing arse…

then I’ll seal it in a vacuum bag…

and it will go to the highest bidder!

That reminds me, this,” holding up a vacuum pack,

“This,” opening it, “is the pair of ‘Naughty Girl Shop’ blue panties,

“from my Ménage à moi earlier.”

I bring the panties to my nose,

sniffing dramatically.

“Yep, that’s me,” I giggle

Or, more accurately, it’s Liz ·.

The actual panties I used are still laying on the floor.

I laugh again. “If you want me, on these panties, they’ll be up for auction tomorrow—but only for my registered fans.

Patrons can also make requests…

choose your brand of panty..

and request any aroma or stain!…

xtra if you want the close-up footage!

Registered users can also buy personalized panties:

‘Dulce Store Paris’ satin panties with your name on it.

Xtra, if you want footage of me adding ‘other stains or stinks!

I have permission to you show you one I made for Wolfgang… thanks Wolfgang,” holding up the baby-pink colored satin panties, showing Wolfgang’s name in crystal letters attached to it.

“And Wolfgang? I’ve seen your photo…

you can ‘wolfgang me’ anytime!” giggling.

“So, if your new to my account, why haven’t signed up?

No apologies,” I say, flashing a confident grin,

“Yes, I’ve got a big booty, and fuqin big boobs.

I love my body:

I’m 100% all natural, including my tiny waist and sculpted abs.

I am: The slim thicc Queen!

Now, Peeps,” I continue, turning to a drawer, “Let me show you the only good thing to come out of the COVID-19 pandemic:

masks.”

I pull open the second drawer and gasp theatrically, “OMG! That’s where they are!”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELIA

“So, this”—

I gesture mockingly at my body, running my tea-towel holding hands from head to toe—

“is ‘fae’ perfection?”

“In their non-pregnant state, yes.”

She hesitates before adding,

“But the Fae Queen · Well, she was continually—”

“I’m to be perpetually PREGNANT?” my internal voice echoes, dripping with disbelief.

“Will you please stop overreacting? · Calm yourself and just listen!”

All this new info.

I take a deep breath, trying to reign in my emotions.

Of course I’m distressed · Who wouldn’t be?

Still, I reluctantly nod, signaling her to continue.

“The pregnant Fae Queen inspired early humanity’s ideas for images of fertility and sexuality goddesses · And like their Queen, all Fae were very sexual, sensual beings…”

She hesitates slightly before continuing:

“When you Majekely became an adult · Your… excessive masturba—”

“Seriously, Mom!”

Tossing the towel,

throwing my hands in the air.

“Why are you embarrassed, Cely?”

“Because, Mom, I’m the one living in this body. And you’re telling me my · Uh · ‘Features’ and ‘appetite’ were normal for Fae”

“According to the records, yes · Your body and desires are entirely consistent with Fae physiology”

“There is nothing normal about my external genitalia!”

“Cely, you’re comparing again · Look, there are ordinary humans who—”

“But it’s not typical for Ords, is it?”

“No, it’s not the norm for Sapiens or Secundii · But it is for Fae · Their females had a red, swollen, horseshoe-shaped vulva and a very noticeable clit hood erection · Now, the male—

“Ahhh! ·

Nope! ·

Stop.

Right.

There.”

I press my hands to my ears and groan.

“I really don’t want to hear about my freakishly large lips or · Ugh · Clit boner · I mean · C’mon · Why can’t I have a petite clitoris with closed li—”

“Cely! · I can still hear you.”

“WHA—Oh ‘Dess, no! · I’m so embarrassed · MOM! · Ugh · You’re not supposed to know stuff like this!”

“Darling · I triple-checked your anatom—“

“YOU WHAT?!”

“SSShhhhhh! · Telepathy, remember? · Don’t make this sound so perverse · I discerned your physical structure years ago · That’s why I keep telling you to embrace your body · You. Are. Fae · Your body is specifically designed for sex”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Red-haired One

“This,” I say, holding them up to the camera, “is a pair of ‘Kix’ies’thigh highs I’ve been dying to wear—like, forever! Sometimes, Peeps, a girl’s gotta change her mind. More can be less, and mixing things up keeps it exciting.

So, here’s the deal:

in my next post, I’m going to reveal my brand-new outfit.

But, to put on new clothes, I’ll need to take off what I’m wearing now. Which means…”

I pause, flashing a mischievous grin.

“I’m going to strip!

Of course, only paid members will get the full experience—striptease and all—plus a little solo show after.

Got any special requests?

Send them in!

I’ll pick the most popular positions, toys, and tail, and stream it live tomorrow night.

If you’re not a paid-up member yet…

Well, what are you waiting for?”

I pull the cell from its bracket,

quickly uploading the post.

A hint of a smile lingers as I glance at the screen

This is going to be fun ·

Looking forward to that.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Rosa & CELY

“Theirs was a hive society” Mom begins hesitantly

“The Queen gave birth to the · Uh · Workers—”

“You mean SEX WORKERS?” I interject, raising an eyebrow.

“Ugh · So dramatic! · Sex workers implies they were selling something · They were more like · Umm…”

“Sex bots? · Sex clones? · Mom, I’m having trouble reading you.”

“That’s probably because I’ve never actually met one,” she admits “We had pieced together what we know about the Fae, from scattered records and shattered shards.”

“Shards? · Like from crystal balls?”

“That’s what those charlatan half-breed witches call them · But we never used them to see into the future · The ‘spheres’ were the way we recorded history.”

“‘Were, Mom?”

“Destroyed · From the shards we have to piece together facts—”

“And a lot of assumptions, right? · Ord historians run into the same issues.”

I sigh

“Okay, let me get this straight · I’m supposed to be perpetually pregnant, my sole purpose being to birth a horde of sex-crazed clones · Am I missing anything?”

“Well, since you asked…”

Mom pauses, looking uncomfortable

“It is believed that only one of the Queen’s eggs were fertilized · Producing the next Fae Queen”

“OMDess!”

“Please, Cely, don’t obsess over the unknown · There so much we simply don’t understand · Yes, you have many features of the Fae Queen, but the fact remains: you are different · I believe that you are the maker of your own destiny · I raised you to be an intelligent, creative, and thoughtful · And remember, you’re fully Thauma, just beginning to come into your powers ·Whatever the Fae were · You don’t have to be.”

“And yet I was soooo obsessed with sex that you had to create a bangle to curb my craving?”

“Your sexual appetites were threatening to derail your studies, it’s true · But the bangle brought that under control · Year after year, we tested it · Inviting Sentinel and Acolyte children here · Boys everywhere · Boys who were insanely attracted to you · And yet, you couldn’t care less about them, preferring to tinker with the cars ·”

She pauses, her expression softening

“Don’t you see? · You have already shown you can think differently · Behave differently · You have the power to choose―”

“Like a proper Thauma?”

“Precisely!”

“Yeah, I get it now · The bracelet protects me from being a sex-obsessed slut”

“Exactly”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Red-haired One

Performing solo shows is a key part of my web-work, and I’m skilled at making every moment sensual and teasing.

However, it’s not always where I feel most at ease.

When the change first happened, all my masturbations weren’t fulfilling—until I saw my not-my-dad Bob.

Saw his dreams.

Felt his longings.

When I tapped into that—into his desires—that’s when I felt complete.

In the early days, satisfying Bob—always falling asleep on the sofa while watching a late movie—became my mission in the midnight hours.

But I wanted to see if I could also satisfy a woman.

I hadn’t yet made any connections in the ‘industry.’ All I had was them: my caregivers.

And I didn’t know if she could be seduced.

Margery wasn’t like Bob; she was a really light sleeper.

But like Bob, I could read her thoughts…

and I knew that an overt approach would be rejected.

Somehow, like Bob, I had to get her to enter a dream-state…

long enough to play.

Luckily for me, I discovered early on that I had various means of persuasion at my disposal:

My tit juice made the drinker obedient;

my vag cum was a truth serum and made the licker tell the truth; and,

my voice: I could order compliance.

All these I had discovered during my midnight interactions with Bob.

So, I used my tools to get Margery to buy some ‘medication’ from the drugstore:

relaxants and drowsy-enhancing pills.

Unfortunately, Margery was quite the ‘vanilla,’ only wanting a heterosexual relationship and only boring missionary—at least on the surface.

I could tell there were more desires, but they were deeply buried.

I practiced on Margery every dawn…

while Bob was sleeping ‘it’ off, on the sofa.

I began with strap-ons, fulfilling her vanilla-esque desires, recording it to help my visual performance.

Then, using stronger drugs—along with my other ‘tools’ for persuasion—I began introducing other ideas to her…

and in her non-cognitive state, allowing her to lead me down her path of private longings…

deviancy and debauchery.

I allowed her subconscious to direct me,

finding my truest satisfaction in fulfilling her needs.

And in all the years since then, I feel most orgasmically satisfied when I ‘read’ another’s thoughts—needs…

wants—and bring those desires to life.

It’s like, I get off on what gets them off ·

It’s an uncontrollable addiction ·

To give pleasure where pleasure is needed ·

Whatever their sexual kink is.

And that’s the hard part of all these videos and online interactions—I am disconnected from my clients—

For myself, sex only makes sense with real people who have desires. Desires that I can fulfil.

My dad taught me that.

Only then, am I truly me.

And I’m really excited for my Valentine’s Day special featuring me with three of my favorite cam girls In my bed! ·

I’ll be in my element then ·

Real interaction ·

And the electrical guy? ·

He’s got to come over anyway ·

And I know what rocks his cock ·

But…

I begin the strip tease

Just thinking about fulfilling someone’s fantasy ·

Making me fuqin horny ·

The faster I do this ·

The earlier I can get out of here ·

Play with real people!

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELY

“Well, Mom · I need that bracelet badly now”

“Why?”

“Since the bangles broke · And after that… intense orgasm · I’ve been constantly aroused · Every time you talk about sex · Every image in your mind · Mom · This isn’t normal.”

“I believe it is normal · At least for Fae—”

“To be lactating? · Constantly?”

“I didn’t know about that · As I’ve said, most of the shards are shattered—”

“I’m squirting luminous milk from my papilla mammaria, Mom!”

“Your what?”

“My nipples, Mom! · The milk · It glows in the ‘dessing dark”

“Can I se—”

“Mom!”

“It’s purely for investigative purposes! · This is… new information for us”

“OMdess!”

I groan

I really don’t want to do this ·

But if it means we learn something.

I sigh in defeatism

“You want to see them glow?”

“Is that okay?”

I nod, adding the plate to the stack and putting the tea towel aside.

Mom clicks her fingers—

PITCH BLACK

I unzip my onesie,

pull it wide open, so Mom can see the glowing splatters soaking through my pajama top, the most intensive near the taught material around my breasts.

Put my hand under my top,

removing one of the nursing pads—swollen and glowing—

then my hand disappears under my top again,

reappears, with a shimmering droplet on my finger.

The shining splatters on my pajama top disappear as I zip up my onesie.

In the dark, the only thing luminous, is the drop on the top of my finger—

‘Click’—

the lights turn on.

Mom stares at the still shimmering droplet, her expression incredulous.

“May I?” she asks softly.

“Sure.”

I roll the droplet from my index finger onto hers.

She examines it closely,

her eyes narrowing with concentration.

“It’s not like Thauma Majek ·

There’s no hum ·

Yet”

she pauses…

a look of deep thought crossing her face―

“No Mom, don’t!”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Red-haired One

Fuq.

Pulling off the ankle stiletto boots…

Can’t wait for Angela and the 14th

dropping the micro skirt…

Gonna satisfy Bob tonight ·

Oh! ·

Tomorrow morning!

ripping off the bandeau…

Thinking about them ·

Making me fuqin horny.

I reach for a small circular absorbent pad on top of my dresser…

dab my nipples.

Fuq ·

It’s not enough.

There are three glasses sitting on the vanity top.

I grab the wine glass,

placing the rim just below my left nipple,

squeezing the areola,

as glimmering milk squirts into the glass,

quickly filling it up.

I take a stemmed glass,

compress the other areola

as glowing liquid sprays out the right nipple,

filling it as well.

Next, the cocktail glass,

placing it between my thighs and beneath my crotch.

I wait

a bit more

a little longer

then place the cocktail glass brimming with the shimmering liquid—my cum juice—next to the other full glasses which now stand around the sleeping bird.

“There you go, Sparkles,” whispering to the bird nestled on the soft bra cup. “Still don’t know why you’re unaffected by it, but you can have as much of that when you wake up!”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELY

“I sense its Majek!” as Mom places the droplet in her mouth,

savors it for a moment.

Her tunic albuginea oculi turn in a flash from white to vivid green, and in a robotic voice says, “I am your servant” as she continues to wipe a plate with the tea towel.

“OMdess!” I exclaim telepathically, panicking, “Be quiet and sit down!”

Without hesitation, Mom squats down, plate still in hand, and sits on the kitchen floor.

“Nah—uh— · Come with me.”

I walk out of the kitchen, and Mom follows—but still sitting on the floor, her two hands holding the plate as she uses her feet to propel herself forward, her posterior scrapping along the kitchen floor.

“What the Dess?”

The scene is comical…

if you envision the plate as a steering wheel.

Normally, I would laugh.

Normally.

But right now, I’m frightened

“S-stand up and follow me,” my thoughts stammer,

gesturing for her to follow.

I lead Mom to the dining table…

command her to sit on a chair.

I get her to release her grip on that plate.

Now, I wait, holding her hands…

hoping the effect will wear off;

worrying that it won’t.

I’m sifting through her mind, searching for a potential antidote—

Mom’s eyes blink once…

then several times…

her tunic albuginea oculi gradually fades back to its normal color.

Mom looks at me, confused. “Why …?

“Your tunica albuginea oculi turned the same color as—”

“My what?”

“Sclera,” I sigh.

“The whites of your eyes, Mom.”

Sometimes I really do wonder if she is my mother.

“Watch the images in my mind ·

See what happened for yourself.”

Her expression shifts as she focuses.

“Oh · Sacred Flame! · Well, that is · Interesting.”

“Interesting? · Do you just put foreign substances in your mouth without thinking?”

“No, Cely” she thinks matter-of-factly “I knew it was Majek · But I also calculated that it was a very low dose · Pobably not harmful · Now, we can add that to your known abilities.”

“What? · That I’m constantly aroused and that I have a Majek potion dripping out of my mammary glands?”

“Well · Yes!”

“I don’t want it ·

ANY OF IT! ·

You’ve been info-bombing me since the start of this conversation ·

All this Thauma and Fae crap ·

I ·

Don’t ·

Want ·

It ·

None of it! ·

Mom, pleasssssse ·

Can you fix these bangles for me? ·

With the memory block? ·

I just want to go back to normal!”

I’m a mess,

tears streaming down my face,

but Mom just holds me,

cradling me like a child,

stroking my hair

“Cely” she says gently,

“Calm yourself dear · There is little point in blocking your memory · As your Thauma powers continue to grow · You will simply break the bangle again · And this whole scenario will just repeat itself.”

“What Mom? · Including that 30-minute-long orgasm?”

Releasing me,

she holds me at arm’s length,

her expression a mix of seriousness and sympathy.

“Unfortunately, yes, Cely · It’s one of the side effects of the charmed bangle · It suppresses your arousal so that you can concentrate on your studies · It also helped once we began seduction training · With the bangle you were able to observe and experience sexual conquests with a clear and undistracted mind · But the bangle does not eliminate your horniness—It merely absorbs it · The moment it’s removed, all those suppressed sexual feelings and desires come flooding back · You’ve been wearing bangles for almost nine years now and considering the amount of sensual ‘mind-links’ you’ve experienced over the last twelve months · I’m not surprised you had an intense cum-session”

“Isn’t that a reason not to wear it? · OMDess · I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.”

“No, not really · I think it’s more about purpose and management”

“Explain, Mom.”

“The bangle allows you to maintain clarity in any situation · Fae weren’t exactly known for their subtleness · They practically lived with sex-on-the-brain · Now, as you’re about to enter the Echelon, it’s crucial · Your interview process will involve a contest · You’ll have to make one of them horny enough to make them cum · Or they will make you cu—”

“Yeah, I heard that conversation already.”

“In your current state of, um, awakening · You would instantly lose · Earlier I did a casting · Without your bracelet· You will fall to their carnal advance—”

“Meaning, that I fail.”

“And I believe that they mean to use your failure to exempt you from entering the Echelon · The bangles will protect you from being sexually aroused · Once you’ve passed, there are plenty within the Echelon that will just view you as simply another notch on their sexual conquests · At least protect yourself until you feel fully secure.”

“So · I’ll have to wear it permanently?”

“The bangle could be worn indefinitely and would not fail · However, alternatively, I could make you a similar bracelet · With a clasp so you can take it off · Because I think there are times that you would want to remove it”

“Like when?”

“You are still Fae · There is a part of you that is a crazy, sex-lusting, individual”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Red-haired One

“Let’s start again.

For this new look,” I murmur to myself, sliding open the top drawer of the vanity with careful precision,

trying not to disturb the sleeper,

“I will need some panties…

Ummm,” my hands hovering over a bright blue pair from, Hello L.A. Girl’s ‘Midnight Blue Leather Lace Embellished Lingerie Set’

“they do match my eyes, but…”

I pause.

A playful smirk curling my lips as I pick up a lacy red ‘Hello L.A. Girl’ thong instead―from the ‘Scarlet Temptation Lingerie Set’―

“perfect!”

I step into the red panties,

pulling them up

pressing the lace snugly against my shell

God, I love my vagina ·

Irresistible―

Oh no · Another thought interrupts my internal admiration:

If I wear it now, they’ll be drenched with my cum by the time I get to the club ·

Fuq! ·

Why do I have to be so wet all the time?

In the early days, I was cumming constantly.

But I practiced control, learning how to keep myself turned off, until I was ready.

It’s still not perfect…

Sometimes I’m so overcome by desire—whether it’s me or ‘them’—that it’s difficult not to lose control.

I groan, weighing my options:

Absorbent pads ·

Menstrual panties ·

Or nothing? ·

Umm…

I hum, pulling out a black pair of period panties

A combo it is then ·

I’ll wear these on the way ·

And switch to the thong just before I get out of the taxi ·

But for now, I’ll keep the lace panties on.

Twirling in front of the mirror to check the look,

giggling at myself.

Perfect,” I murmur.

I grab a rainbow-colored tail

No need to waste a cameo ·

This will make a sexy short for the site.

Add my cellphone into a wall bracket…

Stepping back, I flash a playful smile directly at the lens…

“Mwah!” I blow a kiss, letting it linger.

Turning around, I angle my hips towards the camera, my curves fully on display. I spread my legs, giving the viewer their desired angle, before bending forward until my torso is horizontal.

I glance back over my shoulder,

aligning the tail’s plug with precision.

One hand pulls the thong aside

as I press it gently into my butt hole—

“Fuq!” I mutter, a mix of discomfort and exhilaration.

Straightening up,

I give the camera a playful wiggle,

my hips swaying with deliberate intent.

Spinning around, I blow a teasing kiss toward the lens, “Mwah!”

I rip open the hosiery packet, smiling to myself

Been saving you for a special occasion

Sliding out the black patterned ‘Kix’ies’ thigh-highs, I admire their intricate design.

Gathering one in my hands,

I bunch it carefully down to the toe. Balancing effortlessly on my left foot,

lift my right knee,

slipping my foot into the silky fabric.

Slowly, gingerly, ease it upward…

inch by inch…

until it hugs my mid-thigh perfectly.

“Nice pattern” I murmur, running my fingers over the design

So pretty!

I repeat the process with the left leg, taking a moment to admire the full effect in the mirror.

This is a fuqin hot look! ·

Now to prepare…

The tail and the panties come off!

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELY

“And if I wanted to avoid a sex-crazed life?”

“If you just wanted a normal life · it’s more than likely—”

“I would want a boyfriend?”

“Wouldn’t you, Cely?”

“I suppose · As long as it’s not Pedro.”

“He would probably be fine for starters · Just for enjoyment · But in any case, if you want to enjoy sex with whoever, you’ll need to take the bracelet off · Releasing all that bottled-up passion may be overwhelming, tough · If that’s the case, do what you did tonight · Take off the bracelet prior to your date, and release all that repressed passion · So that you can go on a date and be relatively sensible.”

“You want me to pre-bate?”

“I know that you don’t have a problem with masturbation, but okay, Cely · Imagine this:

you didn’t pre-bate ·

You’re sitting at the restaurant,

right in the middle of dinner,

and you slip off your bracelet—”

“Oh ‘Dess!”

“Exactly · You’d be the star of a viral YouTube video · Or worse, imagine getting into bed with your partner waiting for the perfect moment, and—-”

“Nah!”

“Yes! · Once you take off your bracelet · You’ll cum instantly!” Mom bursts into hearty laughter, “I mean, premature ejaculations are supposed to be the problem for males, not us!”

“So · I need to be judicious about when I take it off.”

“Exactly · As you have experienced, releasing the bracelet unleashes all your pent-up sexual energy · If you time it wrong, you might find yourself humping your date who, in later clarity, you wished you hadn’t.”

“Okay · You have me convinced · You’ll make me a new one?”

Mom nods “Before you leave.”

“Thanks Mom · Urr · Does Dad know about me?”

Scoffing “Of course, not · He doesn’t even know me.”

“What about Auntle Blake?”

“Everyone · Even Pedro · They all just think you’re a Secundii!”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Red-haired One

“Hiya, Peeps!” I greet the camera with a playful grin as the recording begins―the live streaming still down―

“So, today’s look is a little mix-and-match—pulled from different sets! It’s got a leather-and-lace―faux leather of course―with a red-and-black vibe.

First, the Red:

“I’m starting with these bold red stilettos—perfect for commanding attention…

and the stilettos match my ears!

Now for the black:

These ‘Kix’ies’ black sexy thigh-highs, with the pretty patterns with sparkling diamante aspect are the perfect item to showcase my amazing legs.

I’ve paired the diamante thigh-highs with a diamante black lace bandeau which adds focus to my bare stomach and shoulders.

Next, I’ve added this black skirt. It’s got two horizontal panels: the upper is faux leather and is coupled with a black vegan-leather choker.

The skirts lower panel is lace, and has a fun peekaboo element—see?”

I step closer to the camera, pointing out the horizontal lace panel that reveals…

my swollen pussy.

“Oops!” giggling cheeky, “I forgot them!”

I turn around…

bend over…

giving the camera―and ‘them’―the eye-full I know they’ll love…

facing the camera again…

showing them the sexy Hello L.A. Girl panties in my hand…

sexily pull up the lace panties…

adding in the rainbow tail.

“While walking to the club, I’ll be covered by this thigh-length red coat. Not because I’m a prude, but for the element of surprise when I rip it off in the Club!”

I spin around, showing off my playful rainbow tail plug. “Oh, and yes, I’m still rocking my rainbow tail—gotta keep things fun! Lastly—oh, DaFuq!

I almost forgot!” slapping my forehead dramatically,

reaching for a drawer.

“A little accessory for safety.

Always remember:

protection is key.”

I hold up a delicate black lace nose-and-mouth mask,

slipping it on before turning back to the camera.

“Now the look is complete!

See you soon, lovelies!”

Reaching for the camera,

ending the recording with a wink and a wave.

I glance at the clock.

Almost quarter-to-eleven ·

I’ll do the editing when I get home ·

It’s time to go—

DAFUQ?

“Almost fuqed up…

better switch into my ‘safe’ panties.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

CELY

“Mom! · Why are you telling me all of this just now? · All this info-dumping on the eve of my departure?”

“I meant to reveal everything gradually, after you turned Nineteen · That’s when Thauma begin to come into their power and their training begins · Up until now, you’ve been practicing by sourcing my power · Which is why I was so excited when you told me how you broke the bangles · I was supposed to have another two years to train you · To reveal everything in a calm, relaxed manner · But now the Echelon has moved up the dates, and you’re about to leave · You needed to know · And it is better to hear it from me.”

“An hour ago, I was set to enter the Echelon a Secundii · Now I’m some illegal crossbreed co-conspirator-spy? · What truth am I supposed to discover, Mom? · How they destroyed the Fae?”

“That, Cely, and maybe more · What happened to the Elven society? · What are the Echelon’s plans? · But whatever you learn, you will have to discover on your own· Keep those secrets to yourself · Until Thaumage contacts you.”

“Thaumage? · Why can’t I just tell you, Mom?”

“The Nest doesn’t want me involved · They will anoint an unrelated agent.”

“What about Cat and Dion? · Cat doesn’t look like me at all · And Dion—Dee—will he always remain a—?”

“That is their story · I can only tell you yours and lead you to the path · The journey is yours alone.”

“So, what do I do now?”

“I will take your bangles · And create a new bracelet · I will give it back to you before you leave tomorrow · In the meantime, it’s 11.45 · Go upstairs and take some time in pleasuring yourself · Get a good and relaxing sleep · And make sure you pass your tests tomorrow.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The Red-haired One

I gently tug out the rainbow fox tail plug,

slip off the lacy thong…

and pull up the period panties.

Spray perfume all over the little red lacy number,

and then scrunch it into a ball.

Grabbing the red coat off the hanger,

I place the ball of red lace in the left pocket.

Better not forget to put them on before I leave the taxi.

“MARGERY? |

BOB?

I’M GOING TO SLEEP NOW.

GOOD NIGHT!”

An older female voice comes back, significantly softer, feeble, “Good Night, dearie.”

I listen.

Listen carefully.

Listen for the low whispers coming from the lounge:

“Your miracle baby’s going out again, Marge,” comes the deep, throaty voice.

“I know Robert, she’s Eighteen now—almost Nineteen—I can’t chain her up.”

“No,” sighing, “we couldn’t even when she was fourteen.”

Fourteen? ·

DaFuq, are you kidding? ·

My libido’s been running hot since I was ten ·

Fuqing you both in your sleep for the last nine years,

giggling.

A quick check on the sleeping Cockatiel:

A bird that doesn’t eat seed or drink water ·

Just my titty potion and vag sludge ·

Strange.

“Sorry, Sparkles, you have to stay here.”

I slide the wardrobe door to the closed position, trapping the bird—still napping on my soft t-shirt bra—inside the wardrobe.

Dressed in my sexy ensemble,

I walk to the bedroom window, gripping its frame. It feels stuck—more pressure than usual.

I give it a big heave—

a gust of freezing air rushes in, swirling around me.

Love the cold.

Climbing out into the dark, I secure the mask over my face, my red stilettos dangling from one hand.

The red coat―wrapped around my anal tail―drapes over the same arm as I press the phone to my ear.

“Yes…

I need a ride,” I say, my voice steady against the chill.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Factoids

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