Here is a sneak peak…

The Baucus Chronicles

 

“You may fool everyone else, but it is damn near impossible to fool yourself.” 

Blake stared in his mirror, stared at that lying face, that cute face, that face that everyone just loved to see—and he wanted to smash it.

Pain blossomed in his fisted hand before he even realized what he had done.

Suddenly, his perfect smile was tinted red, red with the thin pale blood that dripped down the intricate patterns of cracks that appeared in his mirror.

Now there were a hundred little grinning faces, all his, and all terrifying for the maniacal laughter that rolled from those perfect lips.

Blake looked down, looked down at the tingling pain he felt in his right hand and saw the myriad of small shards of glass embedded in his skin. There were fine cuts that didn’t bleed, and deeper cuts that ran red like water from a faucet

He looked up again and he grinned wider as he saw more of the broken shards reflecting he light and every color of the rainbow. Crystal shards of glass lay like pretty broken dreams.

So he sat there, shaking at realization that he couldn’t escape this life, that he would be caged here forever.

 “Blake! Blake? Are you listening to me, boy?”

And there was the keeper of his cell, the holder of the keys–

 “Blake! Answer me! Don’t make me break down this door!”

The impatient bastard.

Swiping the broken glass away with his injured hand, Blake rose to his feet and took a deep breath. He counted to ten backwards, and by the time he reached one, the despair that was steadily growing in his eyes had receded. It was fully hidden by the time he finished walking across the floor, and when he swing the door open, all negative emotions were seemingly gone. His face was a blank slate.

“Yes, Franziko?” he asked calmly, smiling despite the red droplets that softly dropped to the floor.

“What is keeping you? You know you have to perform and don’t want to hear any of your bullshit.” He looked down and pursed his lips as his eyes followed a droplet of blood until it splashed onto his shoes.  “And what the fuck happened to your hand?”

The short balding man changed gears as he watched the crimson trials drip from his star’s hand to the floor, his voice becoming less demanding and more vindictive.

“This had better not be any of that suicide bullshit, demon. I own you and nothing you do will release you from my grasp.”

Quick as a striking snake, Franziko’s hand shot out and gripped a handful of Blake’s flowing black hair. With a snarl on his lips, he jerked the taller man down to his eye level. Blakemore grinned.

“You had better fucking get your shit together, demon. I don’t give a damn if you pass out from blood loss. Get your ass on that stage then go greet your customers for the night. You should be grateful I don’t just exile your ass to another dimension.”

All the while, Blake kept grinning.

He smiled even though he wanted to rip his owners head off his body and piss on his brains. He smiled harder as he felt his powers flair up—and then pain as the protective spells warded in the binding to protect his possessor flooded his body with pain. The collar he wore tightened around his throat in warning and soon he knew it would choke him unconscious if he didn’t calm.

And all the while, Blake smiled. He smiled because if he did anything less, he would have burst out into tears.

 “Fucking waste of space,” the Franziko hissed, shoving Blake back, ignoring the stumbling, the blood, and the maniacal grin– ignoring everything but the fact that Blake was only a piece of ass and that later he was going to put it to good use. “You have five minuets.” Then noticing the broken mirror behind him, the man grunted. “And clean up that shit up. I have standards to maintain and I will not have them compromised by the likes of you.”

Franziko turned, straitening a jacket that would have better fit a much trimmer man, and stalked away, muttering some truly nasty things.

Turning, Blake closed the door and shut out the world for a few more minuets before he had to take up the reins of his life again.

Walking over to the mirror, he snapped his finger and instantly the glass was gone, the shards in his hand jerked free and flew to the shattered mirror, slotting themselves in place as it reassembled itself. 

Blake looked down at his hand noting the healing factor in his blood had already healed the worst of the wounds into thin pale scars that would soon disappear.

“The show must go on,” he intoned, forcing his voice into sounding happier, more up beat, though he felt the pain of his captivity deep within his heart. 

Then it was time to smear on some eyeliner and dress in whatever Franziko’s handlers left out for him. Then Blakemore the Songbird was ready to take his place on the stage, wow the audience, and sell one more piece of his soul to the highest bidder,

.

“Shane on you, Blakemore,” he whispered to himself as Franziok himself began to bang once again on his door. “Damn you for still being alive when your spirit is so dead.” He swung the door open to the delight of his owner, and presented a perfectly beautiful perfectly calm face to his owner.

As always before he took to the stage, he cast his mind to a pair of rich hazel eyes and a perfect full bottom lip. He was just glad to see that she would never see him this way.  He ignored the murmuring of the people in the audience– he couldn’t see them anyway– but he could defiantly hear them laughing and talking.

Walking over to his microphone, he closed his eyes for a moment, snapping them open as the spotlight fell on his face, the collar compelling him to obey the orders of his owner. When the music from the piano in the back of the stage began to swell, he opened his mouth and his anger and sadness pour form his soul.

Did a demon like him have a soul anymore? He hadn’t a clue but the words and the emotion came from some placed trapped deep inside of him, some place that longed for death as the only escape from this hell.

He finished the first song to the usual rounds of applause and standing ovations, he ignored a few who her jokingly discussing outbidding eachother for the pleasure of his company that night.

It took everything in him to smile as the house lights were raised and he was escorted from the stage.

He was ready to have his owners neckless thugs escort him around so the bidders could get a better view of the sale goods, when he heard a voice that made him jerk his head up in shock while hope and shame vie in his mind for supremacy.

“I have finally found you, My Son.”

“Cyrus!” he gasped, then all hell broke loose.

 

 

Advertisements

One last Look back…

How about one more look back? remember Shelby the Wonder Sheep from Changeling Press ? LOL I bet you do! Meet Shelby and her improbably threesome…

CH_ShelbyWonderSheep
The City of Baltimore…

“Bleat for me, baby.” He snarled, his long hair creating a curtain of red that blocked her view of the room.
His hands in her hair, tugging and pulling, made her want to obey his orders. His powerful thrusts stole her every breath. His sweat covered her back, his hot, heavy balls banging into her clit with his every move.
His wooden crook slapped against the white flesh of her ass, driving her to buck harder, to scream louder, to give in to the passion making her pussy tingle and her head swim. “Baaa!” She opened her mouth and let the bleat roll from her throat like only she could.
His cock filled her so completely that the friction of his rapid thrusts almost burned. His teeth nibbled at her ear, his tongue licking the sting away. His muscular body covered hers, making her want to submit, making the world go away, awash in a red-hot glow of passion.
And…
His parents stood horrified at the door to their bedroom.
She saw them before he did, and with a panicked squeal — more like a baah — she hiccupped, he jerked out, nearly falling off the bed, there was a poof of smoke…
And the wool really began to fly.
“Arthur!” his mother wailed. “How could you? I got you out of the Highlands to keep you away from those… those mindless sheep!” The small, dark skinned, red haired woman screamed as she beat at her chest with both fists, tears running down from incredibly large brown eyes. “Oh, God,” she wailed, her Scottish accent pronounced as she backed out of the room. “What will the girls at the flower club say? I was the only one who didn’t have a boy addicted to… to… Oh, God! I can’t bear to repeat it!”
She turned and fled, her screeching sobs filling the vacuum her abrupt departure created. Leaving behind the dad, who stood there, mouth hanging open in amazement, before he moved closer to his son.
He eyed the pale, quivering shanks that his son desperately tried to cover with his body as he walked around the bed, examining the situation from all angles before giving his son a queer grin.
“Nice piece of sheep, son.” He chuckled, leering. “Your grandfather always had the same eye for a nice plump rump. He always said sheep were good pussy too.”
And with that, the man exited, no doubt chasing after his scandalized wife.
* * *
“Why me?” Arthur sighed as he pulled at what had to be the mother of all wilted erections. “They’re gone, Shelby. I guess it’s safe to come back now, though I have no idea what my parents are going to say when they recover from the shock.”
His answer was a pitiful bleat, for in her current form that was all Shelby could manage.
You see, Shelby had the distinct honor of being a superhero — well, heroine, actually. She was a defender of peace, lover of her sidekick, Arthur the Herd Boy with his Crook of Justice and his Muscles of Might, and the only known were-sheep in North America.
Her large, black eyes stared at her lover as if trying to apologize, but he was shaking his head, mute acceptance in his eyes. It was all part of being the lover of a were-sheep; a nervous were-sheep who’d had no one to teach her to use her powers correctly.
As a result, whenever she got nervous or scared, or just plain had a case of the hiccups, she could transform into a huge, white, woolly sheep.
“Baaa!”
“I know.” Arthur sighed, reaching over to run his fingers through her soft, fluffy wool. “I didn’t expect them either.”
Arthur the Herd Boy also had a power — the ability to speak to any herd animal and actually understand when it responded. It wasn’t a truly useful power, but it sometimes came in handy. Like right now, when he was trying to comfort his distraught girlfriend after this first disastrous meeting with his parents.
Shelby snuggled in closer, pouting, her huge black eyes leaking crystalline tears.
After a few seconds of petting and scritching, there was a soft poof, a flash of white, and Shelby’s pale hide was once again made of soft human skin.
“I’m sorry!” She sniffled, kicking Arthur’s Crook of Justice and various lubes and dildos off the bed in an effort to climb closer to his heavily muscled body. “I — t-tried and… and then th-they… and… “
“Shh,” he soothed. “We’ll deal with it. They had to learn our secret sometime.”
“That you’re a closet perv who likes anal penetration as long as it’s a female doing it?”
“Uh, no.” He chose to ignore his blush.
“That you are strange ‘cause you date chunky white girls?”
“Darlin’,” he drawled in his heavy accent. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a black Scotsman with curly red hair. I don’t think you can get stranger than that. And you are not chunky. You are perfection, my love. Enough curves to keep a man happy and coming back for more.”
“Oh.” She sniffled. “That I shed?”
“No, darlin’.” He chuckled. “I was thinking about the secret where you turn into a sheep and try to fight crime.”
“Oh.” She ran her hands over his hard body, loving how her fingers slid over his sweat-shined skin. “What do you mean try?”
Arthur froze for a moment, then tossed her back on the bed, amongst the remaining discarded sex toys, and jammed his tongue down her throat.
He might be a sidekick, but Arthur was no fool. Now was not the time to get into her superhero proclivities. Now was a time for fucking any thought from her mind and picking up where they’d left off when they were so rudely interrupted.
“Where were we?” he asked, lapping down her neck, caressing her sides, letting his thumbs settle beneath her full breasts.
“Baaa,” she bleated, and once again, all was right with their world.
* * *
William R. Trishaw gaped at his bank statement. It had to be wrong. It should not be in negative numbers.
“Leah?” he called out, his voice cracking with confusion and some anger. “Have you ever heard of something called a Z-Cube?”
William ran his fingers through his tangled mass of gray curls and turned his square-shaped pupils to the unconcerned teen flopped across his couch staring balefully at a TV set.
As a matter of fact, everyone who was currently in his abode was flopped somewhere like his place was a sort of downscale hostel for unwanted young adults. Leah he loved dearly, but the girl was a leech. Sure, she was one of the best mechanics ever to hold a wrench, but the measly amount of time she actually spent in the garage didn’t explain the exorbitant food bill she managed to rack up.
And for all his troubles in boarding the at-risk girl, all he had to show for it was an espresso machine that brewed three times faster than anything on the market. Which would be fine and great, a marketable product, if only he could understand the over four dozen steps you had to run through in order to get one decent cup of coffee.
And there was Villie, who had the most god-awful Transylvanian accent and a fetish for bondage-style clothing. She was a promising intern in the field of genetics and toxicology — a genius, some might say. But the only poison she’d managed to develop involved a brand of ecstasy with non-deadly side effects. That would be marketable to all kinds of research facilities. But no. Villie’s great experiment made the user grow feathers. Yes, big green and purple feathers. And they were permanent in most of the lab mice she’d tried it on. There was nothing better than walking into your lab after a hard day of scheming and planning to see a parade of purple-feathered mice hopped up on designer ecstasy. Not even really great espresso dancing through your veins could prepare you for something like that.
And then there was Larry.
Larry was about six feet of naturally muscled god wrapped up in golden skin and beautiful green eyes. He had shaved himself bald, a look that showcased his perfectly symmetrical head and gave him a Yul Brynner in his heyday sort of swarthy mystique. His voice was deep and mellow, enough to cause panties to peel and boxers to tent.
Unless he was screaming and running away in fear when someone got too close, or God forbid, touched him.
It was a complication in poor Larry’s life, and he had tried to overcome it by creating a series of more and more life-like androids. They walked, they talked, they moved, and apparently they fucked like a dream without any hassles of that real human being thing that drove Larry into crying fits of fear and agony.
It was bad for Larry’s personal life, but great for design and development… if Larry would ever allow him to sell any of his girls.
Yeah, Larry was a bit of a packrat. He had every model he had ever completed stored in perfect working condition, and he named them all Doris.
So Larry was content in his room of Doris, walking Doris, Doris with no legs, Doris skeletons in every stage of completion. There was Black Doris, White Doris, Latina Doris, Samoan Doris, Barely Eighteen Doris, Doris the Cougar, Doris in her prime twenty-five to forty age bracket. They were all full up on Doris, and Billy was just about sick of them all. Well, all except for Chef Doris, programmed with Cordon Bleu recipes.
William sighed again and stared at his statements. These people he chose to help were a bigger drain on his income than all his plans and schemes put together.
Maybe it was time to give up being so helpful and innovative? Maybe it was time for him to get a nine-to-five and put aside dreams of having his own corporation dedicated to his ideals of justice and balance.
Yeah, he thought. It was time.
He had blown through this month’s allowance already, due to stupid trust fund codicils. His parents really were assholes. And it was at least fifteen days before he could draw his usual ten thousand for the month’s living expenses.
It was expensive keeping Leah in TV dinners, Villie in exotic herbs, and Larry in spare android parts.
It was time to go the way of most creative geniuses — dying of boredom and normalcy in the suburbs — right after he drove into the city and made arrangements to pay off this overdraft.

HOw about…

How about another look back? From Loose Id Press.. here is Absolute Perfection, a shifter tale like no other… cause its a Naga and a Seahorse making whoopee, not babies… if the Seahorse has anything to say about it! LOL I may have to revisit this universe! *g*

LI-AbsolutePerfection

“Mate! Oh mate?” Taza’s huge eyes teared up pitifully as he searched the small house for any signs of his tall, thin male. “Mate?”
He stomped his feet in a fit of pique, not ready to admit defeat yet.
In one hand he held a power cuff, one capable of allowing him to know the whereabouts of his mate at any given time.
In the other he held a bottle of lube, hoping for the chance to explain some things about sea-horse mating rituals.
Maybe leaving out those hastily hand-drawn sketches had not been a good plan for introducing him to the world of sea-horse sex.
But what was done was done, and it was time to move ahead with matters…before his family managed to find a loophole in this arrangement. Being married off to that sea hag and popping out a dozen of her brats for the sake of posterity—no. Nothing was worse than that fate—even death! And he had flirted with the idea of taking on his humanoid form and slashing his legs before swimming with the sharks quite a few times.
But this solution seemed so much better.
Actually things could not have gone better if he had planned them.
He had only wanted to escape into the human world for a while—maybe ten years or so—just until they forgot about him. That overgrown human who had netted him while screaming about eternal life if he consumed mermaid flesh had not been in his plans.
In fact, the whole “being tied down and covered with garlic and cracked pepper” idea had not been in the plans. But when the crazy human had pulled out a fillet knife, Taza knew it was time to depart in the most expedient way possible.
Chewing through the netting wasn’t the most glamorous thing he had ever done, but it had gotten him out unnoticed. And when the butcher had left to get oil for his deep metal bowl he called a fryer, Taza knew he had to make his move.
He was still picking hemp out of his rear fangs from chewing through the netting, but he was doing it as a free and uneaten being.
The bar was the only open sanctuary he had seen during his freedom flight—besides, he felt drawn to the place—and he’d raced to get there. Hiding behind the tallest being seemed to be the best idea he’d had in a long time, especially since the human had discovered his escape moments after he had climbed out of the ground-floor window of the crazy human’s wood-and-metal shack.
Watching that fool get knocked on his butt was the best thing ever. And the vampire—he and his family were pretty cool too. But the best…ah, the best was Astika.
The male managed to give new meaning to the words “tall drink of water,” which was a human expression he had learned in Fells Point while trying to gather enough intel and language to fit in with the indigenous population.
“Gathering intel” was human military speak for finding out what was going on in a new place before he made a fool of himself.
He didn’t want anyone thinking he was crazy or odd or anything like that. He wanted to be known as a nice, bright, human military commander. He had seen some of those around on the docks.
Apparently all one needed to do to rule the people was drink a lot and yell at men and women who wore strange garb called uniforms. All too easy! So he had been prepared to yell and scream “semper fi” a few times to make his story believable during his first real excursion onto dry human land.
The hair might be cause for some concern with some of the uniformed humans, but he could just tell them that he was deep undercover.
They had to have blue hair in the Middle of the East, or whatever that place they were sending their men to. It would be odd if all of humanity was stuck with just the black, blond, brown, and red hair that he had seen. Some interesting people had shown up at the docks from time to time with their hair the color of sunsets, vibrant pinks and yellows. Surely a military command officer would have the longest, brightest hair of them all!
Astika had the most amazing dark blue-black hair. And he was so tall too! Rarely had Taza ever seen such a tall specimen—one that wasn’t bent on eating him, that is.
And he hissed when he talked. That was exciting, almost as exciting as his split tongue.
It had been clear from the beginning that his mate was not human. One had to be a real plankton-head to miss that with this tough skin and his slitted eyes.
And unlike the undead one, his mate was warm to the touch and smelled like exotic spices. His skin was so soft and yet so tough that his claws barely made a scratch, yet it felt so firm and luscious…
Just what was his mate, anyway?
Whatever he was, Taza knew that his mate possessed some power.
He really hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on his conversation, but when his mate’s voice rose, so filled with agitation and despair, he’d had to see what was going on.
What he’d heard astounded him.
He didn’t know what half the titles were or what language he was speaking, but it was clear that his mate was royal as well, and that he had issues with his parents.
Who didn’t in this day and time? But when he caught the echoes of pain in his mate’s voice… Taza had to do something.
But before he could act, his mate hurled his cell phone-talking device across the room and watched as it shattered into a lot of little metallic and plastic pieces.
He seemed so lost that the only thing he could think of doing was to irritate the male until he sounded normal. Irritated seemed to be the norm for his mate, so he said the first thing that came to mind and went to investigate outside his new abode.
It was beautiful—there were sand gardens and bright vibrant flowers in all the colors, and it all filled him with a sense of peace that he had not felt since he had been in his undersea gardens at home.
He lost himself there, spending way more time than he expected. So when he made his way back to the house, he was a little surprised to find it empty.
The cell phone still lay where it had been, in pieces, but it had been swept up in a neat pile.
To Taza, it looked like his mate would be willing to compromise.
So now it was time to find the mate in question and actually figure out what he was. There were so many new and important things to discover. Not only did he have to learn about his likes and dislikes; he had to find out just exactly what his new mate was.
“Astika,” he called again, moving through the house, checking out all the rooms on the first floor.
There was a foyer, which was well lit and filled with colorful tiles. There was a small living room, a den where his mate had spoken on the phone-listening device, which was filled with bookshelves. There was a small desk and several armless couches strewn with pillows. There was a kitchen that was ideal and spacious, filled with large windows that allowed the sunlight to shine through. And there were two rooms he had yet to vet out.
Approaching one, he found a small room bare of furniture except for what seemed like hundreds of pillows and a huge set of glass doors that overlooked the rear of the house and a beautiful human-created pond.
But no Astika.
He was tempted to explore this room further but decided it would probably be in his best interest to find his mate.
He exited the room, found a small bathroom behind a door that blended seamlessly with the walls, and then came upon the final room.
If his mate was on the first floor, he had to be in this room. But if he was on the second floor, there would be problems.
Sea horses were…well, they were notorious for being afraid of heights. And by heights, anything seven feet or more off dry ground would send them into a paralyzing seizure that only time and a lot of cuddling would cure.
It was one of the reasons that his people so rarely came to mingle with the folks on land who loved their tall structures and walking ways.
So, praying that his mate would have enough common sense to keep his feet firmly planted close to the ground, he turned the knob and pushed the door open.
And there was his mate, all several feet of…
Several feet? More like several miles.
“Gah?”
At the inane sound that poured from his throat, the long thing that appeared to be his mate turned in his direction.
Okay.
It was a snake…kind of.
It was long—several coils filled the large room, almost hiding the body of his mate in a ropy, snakelike, copper-colored body.
It also had his mate’s upper body and head.
Yes, it appeared to be his mate—it smelled like him, and it sounded like his agitated sighs…
“Um, mate?” He took a step toward the hall, just in case it was some kind of serpent that was having trouble digesting Astika and was choking on his lower limbs.
The power cuff, the only real memento of his birthright, was dropped and forgotten.
“Yes?”
The voice sounded like Astika’s.
“What…are you doing?”
“Relaxing.”
“I mean…what are you”—he waved his arms at the whole package, taking in his mate’s long blue hair right down to the spaded tip of his tail—“doing?”
Sighing, the snake that was apparently his mate turned fully toward him, affording him a view he never thought that he would see.
It was his mate’s torso, and the dark top half of his skin began to lighten around his waist and hips, where a delicate scale pattern began and the humanoid part ended.
The snake body started as small, dark-hued scales, which gradually lessened in color until the underbelly was nearly white. The scale pattern blended in and out, the copper becoming pale in some areas and then transitioning to bold splashes of color.
His mate’s body looked like the ebbing and flowing waves of the sea.
“I am relaxxxing in my natural sssstate,” he muttered as he adjusted his body in order to fully turn to his mate. “If I sssstay in my human guise for too long, it causes me great pain and disssscomfort.”
“Oh.” Taza nodded as if that made sense, as if his words were completely understandable and coherent.
“What are you again?”
He knew that he looked confused, but it was not every day a sea horse realized that he was mated to…to a snake!
“I am a Nāga.”
“N-Nāga?” Taza paled.
“Nāga, yessss.”
“But…but they—I don’t know if you know this, Astika, but Nāgas have been known to eat…well…my kind.”
“As if.” Astika snorted, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms as he glared at his new mate.
“It is a documented fact! Sea serpents…”
“I am not a ssssea sssserpent!” Astika fairly roared, his eyes nearly glowing in his anger. “I am a Nāga! I am the thing that eatssss the ssssea sssserpents!”
“You…” Taza paled further. “Y-you eat sea serpents?”
“Figure of sssspeech,” he said with a groan, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.
“Oh, so you won’t eat me?”
“No.”
Huge liquid eyes blinked up at him, almost glittering in the sunlight that the large windows let into the room. A small smile tugged at his lips, a smile that was both innocent and questioning.
“So…does this mean you will not eat me in the good way either?”
Astika answered by dropping his forehead into his palm, shaking his head as he muttered quietly. Taza was only able to make out a few words.
“Mate…? Inssssane…inssssane creature… What am I going to do with it? Father…kill…sssslowly…much…pain.”
His words jerked to a halt as Taza moved in closer and grabbed the spade of his tail.
“Warm,” Taza noted, stroking the firm skin of his tail. “Warm and firm, yet soft. I thought scales were supposed to be cold and slimy.”
“They are…if you are a fissssh!”
Astika flexed his muscles and jerked his tail from his mate’s clutches. “And do you mind? My sssspade is very ssssensitive.”
“Spade,” Taza mused, ignoring the fact that his mate was glowering at him. “What else is sensitive?”
Before Astika could answer, Taza entered the room fully and was busy stroking every bit of tail he could get his hands on.
“I kind of like this,” the sea horse mused, grinning madly as he investigated the snakelike body of his mate. “It is odd. You know, eels never feel like this, and we avoid sea serpents.”
“I am a Nāga!”
“Quiet, mate,” Taza grumbled. “It is impolite to interrupt.”
“It issss alsssso impolite to sssstroke anothhher’ssss body without permissssion!”
“But I am not just any other person. I am your mate,” Taza purred, his fingers dancing over the smooth scales. “A mate does not need permission or have to ask. Love the hiss, by the way.”
Grumbling, Astika jerked his tail away again and began to slither out of the room.
“Where are you going?” Taza called out, admiring the flex and press of the tail’s muscles as his mate moved from the room. “I wasn’t done exploring!”
“You are done,” the irate Nāga snipped, sliding past his mate and moving down the hall.
“But…but there is so much I need to know about Nāgas!” Taza called out, fuming as he gave chase.
His Nāga sure could move fast. He wondered if it was a trait of the species or just Astika specificlly.
“What you need to know,” Astika called back, “issss that I am hungry. And ssssuddenly ssssea horsssse issss looking good for my menu.”
“Well, hell,” Taza snapped, pausing in the hall, watching as the spade of his mate’s tail disappeared into the kitchen. “What am I supposed to feed you, anyway? What do Nāgas eat?”
This required some thought.
Humming to himself, Taza turned away from following his mate. He moved toward the den, remembering the bookcases filled with human books, and decided that maybe he would do a little research.
The dolphins had been good enough to teach him to read the squiggles the humans called writing so he could avoid potential trouble spots like underwater bombs and tuna-boat nets, though he still felt that writing was stupid. Why would you write words that would eventually disappear or people could interpret wrong? And why did they have to have so many languages to begin with? It would have made more sense if they established at least one language that they all could understand and trade in…though they traded goods for paper.
Stupid humans. Everyone knew you traded goods for other goods or service.
But the bound writings—books—were here, and instead of dwelling on the general oddness of humans, he would be better off spending his time learning what he could about his mate.
He lived in this dwelling, so there should be information about his kind here.
He should be able to find what he needed for the care and feeding of Nāgas in the books.
After all, that’s what books were created for. The dolphins told him you could always trust what you read in books.

It’s Time for Your Hump Day Hump!!!

Its time for you HUMP DAY HUMP!!!!
Before we move on to the future, lets take a look at the past! *g* Rememner my Fox Shifers in the Changeling Press series, Foxy? Here is a bit of Chemicals Between Us, my fix shifter Menage! M/M/M…

 

CP-ChemicalsBetweenUs

http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1774

Cold was not the proper term to describe this place. Zadine shivered as he turned up the heat in the SUV and burrowed deeper into the down parka that swathed his body. Frigid would be a better term — or maybe glacial. Right about now he was damning the instincts that had driven him from his nice, grassy, warm, beautiful Mato Grosso do Sul and led him to this cold, stark, barren environment.
“You can find a good hotel here.” The Inuit driver chuckled, used to this reaction from foreign tourists. “And there are plenty of things to do. There’s a dance hall, and a few really good restaurants, and some shopping. And if you can find a tour guide, there’s lots of interesting wildlife about.” The man nibbled on his bottom lip, then nodded towards Zadine. “Have them take you out to see the foxes. There are quite a lot of them around.”
“Obrigado — uh, thank you,” Zadine offered, his smile wide as he adjusted the mirrored sunglasses that dominated his face. It was so easy to slip into his native Portuguese that he had to watch what he said. “I will take your words into consideration.”
At his deeply accented voice, the driver frowned. “Are you a photographer, young man?” he asked, suspicion obvious in his face. “Or a hunter? We get a lot of people here hoping to shoot the local wildlife.”
“No, no, no.” Zadine grinned wide. “I am here to get married.”
“Oh!” The driver’s countenance lighted considerably. “Wonderful. So, young man, where is the lucky lady?”
“I am going to meet her here.” Zadine chuckled, reaching for the door handle. “I have been waiting my whole life to find her, and now that I have, I am never letting her go.”
“Well, get to it, young man.” The driver chuckled, patting him on the arm. “And good luck.”
“Thank you, sir,” he repeated, popping open the door and stepping out into the terrible, horrible, really bad, freezing snow.
“And congratulations!” the driver added as Zadine reached down to pull out the small duffle bag resting between his feet. “To you and the lucky woman.”
Zadine nodded and slammed the door shut, waving as the driver took off.
He stood there a moment, looking around the town proper, taking in the storefronts and the cars parked along the sides of the road. Then, with a sigh, he took off toward the nearby tree line, moving as swiftly as his long legs could carry him.
“Congratulations to my lady.” He chuckled. “I’ll tell her if I can find her.”
The wind swirled a brilliantly white drift of snow in his direction and then, just like magic, his tall figure was gone. If anyone had been around to observe, they would have sworn the tall young man had just disappeared into thin air.
And almost no one would have noticed the tall, red and orange body held up by long black legs disappearing into the tree line, only a flash of its white tail tip to show its passing.
* * *
“I feel pretty!” The high, cheery voice warbled over the sounds of splashing water. Slim limbs kicked in the hot mineral water as the singer tossed back yards of wet, black hair and threw his head back, basking in the bright, warm sun. He sang on — he wasn’t just pretty, he was also witty and gay.
“Like that last is a surprise to anyone.”
“Atka!” The singer squawked, spinning around and glaring at the slim man who stared down at him, disapproval in every line of his body.
“Don’t Atka me, Iluq,” the white-haired man complained. “You woke me up and managed to scare away any good hunting for miles around in the process. Who told you that you could sing, anyway?”
“I never said I could.” Iluq sniffed, splashing water in his elder brother’s direction before a sly smile slid across his face. “But you’re just jealous because I am prettier than you.”
“We’re twins.” Atka snorted, wiping water from his face and chest, looking down at the droplets with disdain before shaking them away. “We look exactly alike.”
“Not exactly,” Iluq countered, running his hands through his wet locks. “My hair is not as uncommon as your own whiteout mane.”
“Just wait until you fall in love and then lose your heart.” Closing his eyes for a moment, Arka breathed out a pained sigh before he shook his head and glared at his twin. “Yours will turn white too.”
Knowing he had inadvertently caused his twin pain, Iluq let out a small whine, his gaze dropping to beg forgiveness. Then, before his brother could react, he slammed his hands into the water, totally soaking the white-haired male.
“Iluq!” Arka bellowed, holding his hands out to the sides, water dripping from his naked form, his hair lying flat against his head, his pointed ears twitching madly. “This means war!”
With a yowl of challenge, Atka dove into the pool, nearly drowning his brother in a wave of hot mineral water.
Iluq emerged, choking and gasping, looking like a sodden rat with his long, soaking black hair covering his face.
Sputtering, he reached up and pulled fistfuls of the silken mass out of his eyes to glare at his brother, his red eyes looking very much amused. “You win.”
“Always.” Atka chuckled, pulling hanks of his own silver-white tresses from his face and spitting out water. “I am the elder brother, after all.”
Iluq snorted at his brother’s claims, then froze.
“What –” Atka began, but Iluq waved him to silence. Iluq lifted his head and gave another hard sniff.
“There is — is something –”
Instantly, Atka was on the defensive, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the immediate area looking for danger. But Iluq, almost as if in a trance, rose from the pool and crawled to the snowline at the end of their cleared area, his nose in the air, sniffing like he had just smelled the most wonderful scent ever.
Before Atka could stop him, his twin shifted forms and took off through the snow, kicking up tufts of white snow as he ran.
“Iluq!” Atka roared, shifting forms and taking after his brother. He had no idea where Iluq was going, but there was a strange scent in the air, and impulsive Iluq would not heed the dictates of caution.
Atka caught up with his brother as he stopped near the edge of their property. The Triganniaq Clan, the Arctic Fox clan, had its own property within the Last Chance Preserve. Although it was part of the larger Arctic Fox clan, the Triganniaq were known for being unique in a group of unique people. Their magic affected their appearance more than any other skulk members in recent history, and nothing they did could hide their odd red eyes and unusual hair color.
For the members of the Triganniaq clan, black hair was the norm in human form, no matter what magics were applied. While in their more comfortable fox form, their fur adjusted to the seasons like any other, but their human hair remained black until they met their true mate and fell in love. Then it turned as white and pure as their love was reported to be. Like other Arctic Foxes, they mated for life and were, for the most part, monogamous. But in certain circumstances, like when their mate died or played them false, like in Atka’s case, their white hair turned silver, the color of frozen tears.
His mate’s cheating had left Atka a more cautious and often cynical man, nearly unheard of in his clan of jokers and tricksters. But Atka had changed, and now he dedicated his life to protecting his energetic twin. Which was why he felt no compunction in chasing after him and the unusual scent he claimed he could smell.
He caught up with Iluq as the wily fox paused, his nose in the air.
“What –?”
“Atka, do you not smell it?” he asked, his whole body quivering.
“Smell what? What, Iluq? I don’t smell a thing.”
“Try harder,” Iluq demanded, his eyes narrowing as he stared out into the timberline.
Sighing in frustration, Atka closed his eyes and lifted his head, expecting to smell one of the other foxes in heat or pregnant. But what he smelled — what was that intriguing scent?
It was rich and spicy, earthy in a way with a hint of — of flowers and tall grass? “What –? Is it –?” he began, but a wicked smile crossed Iluq’s vulpine face as his upper body lowered and his rump rose high in the air.
“Oh, yeah,” his younger half cackled. “Neighbors.”
“But –” It was more than that. Atka stared, his heart racing in his chest, his eyes wide in shock. He — he didn’t know how this could happen! This could not be true.
Where Iluq saw new neighbors to torment and tease, Atka felt — well, it couldn’t be true, but — he felt his mate.
* * *
Zadine looked around his new home and tried his best not to pray for a nice space heater.
As far as dens went, this one wasn’t too bad. It was deep, and once you got past the opening and moved a few feet in, the place widened enough so he and fifteen of his family members could move around and party comfortably.
The Elders who had given him permission to live within their skulk had told him this place once belonged to an extended family of foxes. They’d expanded over the years until it was decided they would move on into warmer climates. He could understand the sentiment, he thought as he looked toward the opening of his den.
The one saving grace to this place was that it was situated right on an underwater hot spring. It heated his den comfortably for the most part and offered indoor bathing in one of the lower chambers. And there were a lot of chambers. He figured if you were a member of a huge family, you would want to try to find a little privacy. So now he had chambers to spare.
The first thing he’d done was set up his sleeping chambers as close to the hot springs as possible. Within the still sizeable chamber, he pulled from his magically enhanced bag the furs he had collected over the years. Together they made a nice nest on the tall grasses and flowers he’d brought from his home. They were soft, designed to hold in heat, and fragrant with the scent of the rich, flowering blossoms that littered his family’s home territory.
There were other chambers to be set up and items to be unpacked, but for now he stood in the central chamber and reflected on what his instincts had brought him. He was alone and far away from the tall grasses and warm sunny skies of Argentina, and he had still not — not —
“What is that intriguing scent?” He spoke softly to himself as he reached for his jacket and moved toward the den opening. He poked his head out and took a cautious look around.
There was nothing there… but there was a scent. It was powerful and lingering. It smelled like cold fire and ice, things that normally wouldn’t interest him at all. But it was drawing him in. He sniffed harder, his long, red hair falling around his face as he scrambled out of his home and made his way through the cleared land in front of his den.
Cautiously, he stepped toward the snow, pulling his jacket on and trying to hold back the shivers that threatened to shake his whole body. The scent seemed to elude him, tousling his curls and exposing the broad, black stripe that ran from the crown of his head back toward his neck.
He looked left and right and, as far as his eyes could see, there was nothing but melting, crunchy snow. But something had to be there! He could feel it. His cock had begun to harden the moment he caught a good whiff of that scent, and now his heart was beginning to pick up in tempo.
His — his mate? It had to be his mate!
His whole countenance brightened. He had come so far only to find her this soon! This was beyond amazing! This was a blessing of untold proportions! He eagerly turned toward the place where the scent was the strongest. He threw his head back and opened his mouth to let out a triumphant yell when it struck him.
A compact ball of frozen snow impacted with his face, immediately sending him into a coughing fit that threatened to knock his lungs loose.
“W-wh-cough-wha –?” His eyes watered as he scrambled backward to find purchase, only to step into the snow. If it wasn’t for the thick layer of snow, he was quite sure his ass wouldn’t have bounced so hard when it hit the ground.
Well, that effectively ended his coughing problem. He couldn’t cough when there was no air in his lungs. Wheezing, he curled into a fetal ball and wondered what he had done to deserve this.
It was out of sheer instinct that he shifted. The air around him shimmered with heat as he instinctively drew on the magic within him. There was a tug on his central core and then, where there once lay a man, now lay a red-gold creature, lifting its nose and sniffing in the wind.
And what his senses now told him made his heart leap with joy. His instincts were correct. His mate was here.
* * *
Atka and Iluq froze, watching the man writhe in the snow before a teasing scent of rich musk and exotic flowers filled the air. Then, where a rather striking, swarthy redhead once lay, there now was a creature of undetermined origins.
It looked kind of like a fox, but then it didn’t. It was confusing to say the least.
It shifted to its feet on long, black legs, the bright color of its body blending seamlessly with the long appendages. The large, triangle-shaped ears perked up, tilted toward the small shuffling sounds it heard. Its nose twitched as if its sense of smell was much more keen in his primary form. A long, red-gold mane with a distinctive black stripe ran down its back. The fluffy, white underfur flashed as it lifted its tail, alert and watching.
“Oh,” Iluq gasped, backing up as he stared at the poor thing before them. “It’s a deformed fox! Our neighbor is a deformed fox.”
“It is not,” Atka countered, looking worriedly at the strange creature sniffing in their direction.
He knew it was nigh impossible for them to be seen in their shifted forms, as they blended so well into the snow in the embankment where they hid. But somehow he knew the beast was staring right at them.
“It was probably rejected by its skulk.”
“What?” Atka tore his eyes away from the creature to stare at his twin. “What are you on about?”
“Look at it!” his brother demanded, never taking his eyes away from the creature, though his nose twitched in curiosity. It wasn’t fear or disgust in his voice — more like fascination. “Look! What fox has legs that long?”
“Well –”
“Or ears like that?”
“Maybe –”
“Or is that tall? I am telling you, that creature isn’t right! It’s not exactly gross or anything, but it’s not normal either. Do you think it’s catching? Maybe it’s like those human zombie movies! One bite and suddenly we’re all chasing after others for brains.”
“Brains?” Sometimes his brother was too much to take. “If it’s after brains, then you have nothing to worry about.”
“It’s not a bad-looking thing. Kind of cute now that I look at it more closely –” Iluq leaned forward, nose twitching in excitement as his tail waggled back and forth. “It smells kind of nice too — for a horribly mutated creature bent on sucking our souls and our brains out of our bodies. Maybe we can reason with it, offer it virgins or tourists or something to satisfy its hunger for human flesh.”
“Maybe it’s not a fox –”
“Inbreeding!” his bother retorted, his eyes shining. “Of course, it’s an inbred fox. It has to be. Only a fox has a nose like that, Atka. And that body — it may be overly large, but talk about perfect comportment. And that tail is so big and fluffy –” He stopped, blinked twice, and then shook himself as if knocking away some really bad thoughts. “Anyway, there have always been rumors that if you mate with your own sister and your kit becomes your own nephew, making you your own uncle, you grow three eyes, two heads, and six legs. Stuff like that.”
“He doesn’t — three eyes and six legs?”
“Just four overly long, skinny black ones. And those big ears — makes him look like a bat. Still, something just ain’t right, Atka. And I’m telling you, he’s not natural.” Iluq paused a moment, his nose still twitching with his revelations. “He could be dangerous, or… Let’s get closer.”
“What?” If Atka had been in human form, his eyebrows would have been in his hairline. “We can’t –”
“We have to! The fate of the whole skulk is in our hands. The whole fate of Last Chance is in our paws. What if there are more of them? We must discover its origins and its secrets and — and –”
“And what?”
“I don’t know!”
He had never seen Iluq quite so frazzled. But before his brother could say another word, the creature’s whole body jerked as if struck. Its gaze shot in their direction and focused in on them.
“I-Iluq –” Atka stammered.
“Run, Atka!” His bother suddenly gasped, taking a step back. “The unnatural beast sees us! Run for your life! Run for your brains!”
Then Iluq was gone, leaving behind only his brother and the puffs of snow he kicked up as he raced away. Atka blinked and turned to get another look at their neighbor creature, then froze. “Oh, dear.”
There was a pair of amber eyes inches from his muzzle. And they didn’t look amused.
This was seriously not turning out to be a great day.

It’s Release Day!!!!

Hey Everybody… I almost forgot! Guess what today is? That’s right! new release day! WOOT!!! And guess what is releasing? You guessed it! Hot Not to Date a Bear, Too! Part 1! WOOT! Wanna read a totally innocent little bit? Here, LOL Meet Theo and Robert….

How Not to Date a Bear Too! (Part One) by Stephanie Burke

“Unnnn — that feels so good…”
Theodore Bazanov, Keeper of Heritage and second in command of the Great Bear Clan of Manitoba shifted his ass just so and groaned in pleasure he couldn’t hide.
His whole body shuddered as he hit the perfect spot. He squeezed his eyes closed and prayed he wouldn’t be too sore after, but this hardness, this thick mass… it was too good to stop. Almost there… almost there… almost —
“Ohh, look at what we have here –”
The lascivious tone made Theo’s eyes open with a snap, bringing him back to a sudden and angering awareness. Snarling, he turned from the tree he was using to try to reach that infuriating itch in the small of his back, to glare at the —
What the hell?
It was female, that much he could make out. But she — um… She had bright red hair that glowed in swirls and curls around her head, giving her an almost bloody halo in the noonday sun. Her skin was a strange orange-tan color, the shade of some old leathers he once owned. Usually not a tone found on healthy human skin. Her eyes were a vibrant, unnatural blue that seemed to have laser intensity.
Something in him recoiled at the sight of her, his flight or fight instincts taking a definite turn for flight. For the first time in his life since he reached adulthood, Theo felt like prey, and his bear didn’t like it one bit.
He shuffled back, lumbering on two powerful hind legs, his black eyes never leaving the face of the she-beast who was moving closer.
“Come back, little bear,” she wailed, waving her arms, her unnaturally large breasts not swaying at all with her movements. Then her voice got deep, an unmistakably sexual overtone taking over. “I only want to pet you.”
Fuck, no, he thought before he turned tail and ran. There was only so much a male in his position was able to put up with, and degenerate middle-aged women were not part of the plan.
“I’m gonna get ya, catch ya,” she said merrily as she gave chase. “And then I’m gonna eat ya.”
Not if I can help it, his mind yowled as he sped up, putting more distance between him and the woman. How could she run so fast in five-inch heels?
“Come back, little polar bear,” she panted, gaining ground. “I want to talk to you.”
He doubled his speed once more. But the she-beast wasn’t giving up. In her tight Capri pants and the red-orange lace tank top, she was gaining. She was moving so fast that her feet became a blur of crystal shoes and ten tiny lights from the red-orange toenail polish she sported. She reached out for him, her fingernails like black talons, and he suddenly broke right, hoping to dodge her.
“No fair!” she wailed, skidding to a halt, tossing up torn vegetation and soil. “Momma doesn’t like her pets to play games.” The bitch wasn’t even out of breath.
Shaking his head in dismay, Theo raced ahead, using the small advantage his sudden direction change had given him to extend the distance between them. And still, she wasn’t giving up.
“Frisky,” she growled, bending low, almost like a cartoon character or an animated ninja as she ran, rapidly closing the distance.
Fuck this, his horrified mind screamed as he tossed off all pretense of a real bear and began to use his preternatural strength. His four paws pounded the ground, eating the terrain before him as he scouted for the best place to run and hide. He was on Clan land, so using his bear abilities wouldn’t shock any of the natives.
“That’s my bear!” he heard and looked over his shoulder, agog. The strange female was catching up… in her high heels… and her blindingly bright toenails.
He was so distracted by the sight that only instinct had him swirling around a figure that suddenly appeared before him.
He automatically dodged, nearly tripping over his hind legs as the man… beast… creature… mountie, his dwindling facilities supplied, jerked on his reins to control his rearing horse.
Oh, and what a mountie, Theo decided as he regained his balance. He was beautiful, his long black hair flowing in the breeze like in some Hollywood western. His thighs, thick and muscular, clamped together as he rose to stand in the stirrups. His ass was rounded perfection, and Theo could see the muscles strain under his tight red jacket. Dark brown eyes held his for an impossibly long second when the Earth seemed to stand still and…
“Fuzzy Wuzzy!”
The bitch was back!
He was about to pour on the speed and get out of Dodge when a deep, gravelly voice halted him in his tracks. “This is protected land. You do not belong here.”
Say what?
Theo spun around to see the mountie placing himself between him and the crazy lady, stopping her in her tracks.
“What?”
“Protected land,” he spoke again, his horse dancing in agitation. “You don’t belong.”
“But I only wanted to pet him –”
“Ma’am, these are protected shifter lands. I’m going to have to ask you to leave or bring you in in violation of Statute 557 of the Manitoba Shifter Agreement. The lands they hold are private, and only with the proper authority may anyone other than the clan shifters of said land be allowed to roam with impunity.”
The crazy woman pouted. “But I –”
“Get!” he snapped, leaning down to growl at her.
She got. She sniffed at the mountie then turned on her heel, moving in a slow jog back the way she came.
Theo turned to look at his savior and felt his heart pound. The man winked at him before spinning around on his horse and riding off into the sunset.
Theo blinked and shook his head to clear it from any and all impure thoughts about naked horseback riding and its effect on the male ass before turning to lumber his way home.
The attack of the crazy lady was already fading from his mind as new fantasies involving leather and reins began to take hold. Maybe it was time for him to get laid.
Okay, that was the plan. He had been far too long in the company of Palm-etta and her five sisters. Now that Clan lands were established, the Clan Alpha was settled, and no one was going to keep him from some Theodore time.
He would get cleaned up and head out to a haunt he hadn’t seen in some time, the Bear With Me Club, have a little drink and maybe pick up a little something for his empty bed at home.
That plan firmly in mind, Theo moved faster toward the Clan House, ready to get his evening started right.

How Not to Date a Bear Too! (Part One) by Stephanie Burke $4.49
Passion, domination, kidnapping, cougars — things can get a little hairy when you date a bear, too.
Genre(s): Paranormal, BDSM, Erotic Romance
Theme(s): Interracial/MultiCultural, Shapeshifters, Men and Women in Uniform, Gay
Series: How Not To (#9)
http://changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=2115