Rubber Chicken

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The brig in Norfolk smelled like bleach, rust, and broken dreams. Damian sat on the lower bunk in his orange jumpsuit, squeezing a squeaky rubber chicken in each fist like they were nunchaku.“That bottle blonde with the toy sword thinks she’s hot shit,” he told the other detainees, who were already trying not to laugh. “Brown belt my ass. What that bitch needs is some sausage and a good spanking. Knock her up. I’m gonna claim her with these sexy rubber chickens.Continue Reading

No Cage Can Hold Me He Gone Done It

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Damian crossed a line where Southern manners snap into country fury. Threatening her mother wasn’t just insult—it was trespass. Inger’s reply doesn’t come in words but in the dojo, where apology bends into discipline and fury sharpens into resolve. The katana waits, not as ornament but as vow, and the story pivots from bluster to destiny.Continue Reading

Inger Said No

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In: Fiction

Safety for women demands that the power of no is inviolate. Damian’s latest is that he is king of NUUSA‘s Rocky Mountain Pact. One key missing element: its queen. Inger shall be his queen as he rules over the Rocky Mountain Pact. What’s that? He’s in debtor’s prison? Details. I’veContinue Reading

The Peel Room

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They call it triage, but it’s really the Peel Room—where autonomous humanoid robots like Mikako and Takuma are stripped of their silicone skins and routed for refurbishment or scrap. MKW110732 is back because her five-year lease wasn’t renewed. The return receipt reads: “customer’s requested persona overlay glitchy.” Damian logs her, tags her, and wheels her across the shop floor. She greets Mateo in Zapotec. Mateo hears sass. Damian hears snack cakes.Continue Reading