Book Review: Bad Alpha

Amazon Cover

Bad Alpha by Katheryn Moon


Eve had one job. Kill Adam.

But when her mark for the night turns out to be a gift-wrapped omega, Eve can’t resist delaying the job and enjoying the opportunity before her.

One bite is all it takes.

That’s what Adam is counting on. One bite and he might live till morning.

Success is complicated and on the run for their lives, Eve and Adam need the one thing neither of them wants. A pack.

Can three good men tame the killer and the con artist? Not if this bad alpha can help it.

Bad Alpha is a MMFMM romance standalone with a HEA, set in the Sweetverse. Warning for violence and the acts of a dangerous woman in command.



That was unexpectedly good. Variations off the traditional erotica-romance includes (1) omegaverse style universe, (2) thriller action, (3) redemption arc of the assassin bad girl as strong as one normally sees for male characters. (a female redemption arc is something several author friends have talked about)

Works as a stand-alone (I did not read the rest of the series … though I might now!).

Yeah, this really is a thriller with the central heroine an assassin. She is really GOOD at being BAD. Can an omega con-man and a para-military barely-there (non-shifter) pack survive the taming of this feral Alpha? Especially when she has an international human slavery ring after her?

(I think the human slavery ring is the on-going plotline connecting the Sweet Omegaverse series.)

This has the best action-fight scenes I have EVER read in an erotica-romance. I read a lot of paranormal romance, so this is actually a higher bar than you would expect for the romance genre and Ms. Moon doesn’t just break previous records, she destroys them. This book would work as a VERY good thriller if the reverse harem was removed.

But that would be a horrible loss, removing the reverse harem. All the men are distinctive personalities, strong interpersonal relationships. Characters DEVELOP and CHANGE. Grow stronger. The M-M romance within the harem is wonderfully sweet. The heroine develops different relationships with each of her harem.

Really, this book is an amazing example of its genre and completely spoils me in my expectations for other Omegaverse-style books.

Book Review (SERIES): Inheritance of Hunger

I wrote the reviews as a unit after I read the whole series – which has a fairly amazingly strong story for what is normally expected in the beloved smut-centric erotic genre of reverse harem. The first story focuses on the princess coming-of-age and discovering her protected little world was VERY Protected and VERY Little. The second book focuses on the princess in-training learning about the REAL world and how she can RULE instead of be protected. Third book focuses on the princess graduating that title and taking her rightful place. Supported throughout the process by her friends, agents, and harem. Basically a typical royal becoming a crown story, with lots of sex.

Inheritance of Hunger series by Kathryn Moon

  1. The Queen’s Line
  2. The Princess’s Chosen
  3. The Kingdom’s Crown

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The Kingdom of Kimmery is broken…

Bryony, Princess of Kimmery, has a secret. She lacks the Hunger, the magical and passionate craving that is responsible for Kimmery’s prosperity. Without that power, she will lose the crown and the chance to rule the kingdom she sincerely loves.

The Queen’s Line must select Chosen to satiate their Hunger with and Bryony’s Choosing ceremony has arrived. On her first night with her newly assembled men—a prince, an ambassador, a stablehand, a sculptor, and a rogue—her own secret, and the secrets of Kimmery, spill out between them.

North of Kimmery’s capitol, the people are starving. When her truth is revealed to her iron-hearted grandmother, Bryony invents a plan to buy time. She and her Chosen will go to the desolate Winter palace where she can pretend to explore her Hunger while investigating the kingdom’s failings.

Bryony is determined to take Kimmery and its people back into a golden age, and keep her crown. As passions rise with her chosen so do the obstacles and adversaries they face. Kimmery’s prosperity isn’t the only thing Bryony misunderstood, and the Hunger is more than what it appears.


The first book starts slow – with the princess being forced to choose her harem. Being of the Queen’s Line, she is expected to have the HUNGER – a magic gift which has helped the Queens to rule in the past – but the Hunger must be fed by sex … a lot of sex. Hence the harem. Problem is Bryony hasn’t exhibited any signs of the Hunger; book boyfriends is all she wants. Forced to choose a harem, she judges the covers of the men paraded before her by what was between the covers of her favorite books.

Then the night after the choosing, these random men pull back the covers over her own eyes about what is happening in her mother’s queendom. Not sure whether to believe those she just met or her lifetime of hand-picked tutors, she decides to look into things herself.

And discovers far more than she expected, about herself, her men, and the Hunger.


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The battle for Kimmery is brewing…

The peace Princess Bryony and her Chosen enjoyed in the north is broken, disturbed by the arrival of her family to the Winter Palace. Camellia is crueler than Bryony ever imagined, and her grandmother’s faith is hard won. Nothing will come easily, not even with her men at her side, their affections growing deeper.

When Bryony’s most reluctant Chosen, Aric – King of Thieves, learns of her Hunger, it all fractures. There is more to the magic of the queen’s line than anyone imagined, and Bryony is losing the grip on her own control.

As the weather turns colder, obstacles rise from every direction, even from within the Winter Palace’s own residents. Bryony must master her magic and her passions in order to protect herself and her Chosen from the enemies that circle closer every day. If she falls, so will Kimmery.


The second book has the King of Thieves, and whimsical Beautiful Fantasy Description, and amazing world-building, and magic, and politics, and county fairs, and so many wonderful fantasy tropes in between the reverse harem action – which is a true masterpiece of the genre showing what each man brings to Bryony’s royal needs besides keeping the Hunger fed. I feel in love with each of her men in turn (but, shh, don’t tell her – she is the jealous type).

Now that Bryony has found her Hunger and broken out of her safe protected lie-fed royal cage, can she survive the Winter Palace and the political shadows cast by the Council?


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The path to power never did run smooth…

Princess Bryony and her Chosen have been challenged, threatened, and attacked, but it’s news from the capital that lands the hardest blow.

Bryony’s greatest ally is at risk, and if she loses her grandmother’s support she may lose the crown as well. Returning to the capital introduces new enemies and dangers, as well as painful memories. Her grandmother is dying, her sister is feasting on flesh and wasting magic in the shadows, and the Queen is hiding from the ugly truths of Kimmery.

With her patience at its end and her Chosen gathered close, it’s time for Bryony to break the grip the council has on the kingdom, forge new alliances, and learn the depth of her own magic.

The kingdom’s crown will be hers, even if claiming it comes with painful sacrifice.


In the last book, which blew me out-of-the-water with the execution scene, Bryony discovers her grandmother – the true ruler of the queendom, at least as far as her Council will let her be – has fallen ill since she started actually ruling … sus much? Bryony takes her harem back to where her true royal education all started and hopes she has learned enough to survive.

But with the Council fighting to retain every scrap of power, the royal mages equally determined to keep how the Hunger really works under wraps, the shifters rising in revolution, unsteady maternal support from the official queen, and a sister who wants the succession enough to already arrange one assassin attempt of her own sibling, can Bryony survive? Especially with the Hunger’s bottomless pit being a constant distraction, no matter how much she loves her Chosen and the sex that feed the Hunger.

All her enemies need is for her to make one mistake. Little does the princess know she made it months ago.

Editing Rant: Consent draws the line between Fetish and Rape

Photo by Deon Black on Unsplash

The line between Fetish and Rape seems hazy, since so many people have a problem presenting Rape as an aspect of Fetish … it isn’t.

Central to the difference is CONSENT. Both the instigator and the chosen partner must have the ability to say “Yes” or “No” throughout the process.

  1. Power imbalances silence the weaker. A noble with the ability to execute the commoner. A manager with the ability to fire someone who needs a roof over their head and food on the table. A very strong person (usually male but could be a female vampire for example) and a less strong individual fearing bodily harm.
  2. Drugs and alcohol interfering with decision-making processes, whether inflicted, pressured by the situation, or self-indulged, means CONSENT is not given. As a tax preparer, I have sent away people visibly drunk and/or drugged because they cannot sign legal paperwork in their altered state. Verbal contracts, such as CONSENT for sex, cannot be entered into while in an altered state.

Yes, rape-play is a fetish …. but before entering into the Scene, safe words and other protections need to be in place for all the partners involved.

Things that have driven me bonkers recently:

  1. Doctor with a mental patient who ties person down and pleasures her with gynecological equipment. The biggest problem: “mental patient”! The person was not in any healthy place to make a choice of any kind, let alone with the power dynamic of a Doctor in play.
  2. Another doctor, this time in a science fiction setting, using a robot to hold the person down and pleasure them to make sure they were “healthy sexually”. Doesn’t matter that the doctor is female, doesn’t matter that no male genitalia were involved. “No” was said. It was a rape.

When writing sex scenes, be aware if the participants are in a position to feel safe saying “No” and stopping the action.

Recently stories are going for CONSENT questions to start, CONSENT ongoing in the process, and CONSENT before penetration. By recent, I mean I’ve only started seeing this heavy level of CONSENT play a role in erotica in the past three years (2020-2023).

Rape is rape.

Fetish requires consent.

Flash: H is for Hand

Mature warning: Dirty language and sexual play between married couple

For A-to-Z visitors: My site has erotica on occasion but hasn’t had any for quite some time. While visiting others, I ran across a spanking blog and remembered I always wanted to write a spanking scene. Feedback is welcome. Most of my blog posts deal with writing; if hard(ish) erotica isn’t your cup of tea, check out another letter of the alphabet. Thanks for dropping by.

Now onto H is for Hand.

The overpowering orange scent of the industrial strength hand soap took the edge off of Deb’s exhaustion. She was getting too old crawl spaces, as her electrical apprentices and journeymen continued to remind her. Direct them, boss them, teach them: they tell her. But sometimes, the only way to figure out the old houses is get into the dirt and grime. Closing her eyes for a moment, she sorted through the rest of her day now that she was home. Make dinner, something microwave like normal, toss the containers and wash the silver wear, curl on the coach with Aubrey for the news, check in on Facebook to see how the kids are doing and TenMax for the grandbaby, then off to bed to start the cycle all over again.

After turning off the water, Deb shook her hands and wiped them on a work towel. Is it good for another day? A quick sniff said no, so she made the trek to the laundry closet. While in the back of the house, she heard garage door open. Aubrey had arrived. Late like usual; they were working her husband to death.

She came to the bend where the door into the garage led into the kitchen-dining room area to welcome him back. He dragged himself into their house and dropped his briefcase inside the door, enough folders shoved inside to prevent it from closing. It was going to be another night of him in bed with piles of paper. At least he was home. Standing on tiptoe, Deb pecked him on the cheek, before asking “Burritos or kung pao?”

Aubrey swayed a moment, blinking. “Oh, um, what was that again?”

“Burritos or kung pao for tonight,” Deb asked, “or pizza, but that will take thirty minutes for delivery.”

“Oh, I guess that first thing.” He meandered over to the eating table and dropped his heavy frame into a chair, leaning forward with his hands covering his face.

“Burritos then,” she said. Just a couple minutes in the microwave the package said, so she cut a vent and shoved it in. “Salad?”


“Tough day?” Deb opened the fridge and pulled out the precut salad bag. Taking one look at the slimy mess, it got yeeted into the garbage. “No salad.”

“Meth raid by the cops had four kids in the house,” her husband muttered behind his hands. “We spent the day finding fosters. Then a meeting where they announced another set of cost-saving measures. I think I’m assigned to get the court-ordered separations for the children, but it might be Harry. It’s in the paperwork I’m finishing tonight. Oh, and Harry got the promotion.”

“What?” Deb spun around from where she was watching the microwave do its thing. “But you been killing yourself, doing all those extra hours, been there longer.”

Aubrey sagged back on his chair, his tie sliding to the side of his belly, his jacket flopping to either side. The steeper side of middle age wasn’t as kind to him as it was to her. At least her job gave her exercise instead of stress and coffee. “I asked around, Harry is younger, more powerful, dynamic, confident. True management potential.”

“Lazy, snide, sexist,” Deb ticked off things she personally had observed when the legal support team had come over for after-hours work at their home, since they were the only ones with enough space, “but a champion brown-noser. He would make a good union rep.”

Aubrey barked a laugh. Her husband knew what level of esteem she held the local union officials.

A ding had her plating the burritos and sliding them on the table. Before sitting to join him, she remembered to grab the salsa out of the fridge. Hot for her, mild for him. Tonight his heartburn will be acting up. He was going to pull apart everything he said and did for the last three months, since the Webster announced his retirement.

Deb watched as Aubrey pushed his food around his plate. Over fifty, with an extra hundred pounds, the only saving grace was being well over six foot. She remembered when the extra heft was all muscle, but the broad shoulders had sunk under the weight of years to settle around his middle, filling up cheeks and chins. A permanent stoop pressed his spine, bowing his head. Where had her dynamo gone?

Likely the same place as her brat. How long has it been since she sniped at him? The twins? Matilda slowed things, but the twins dug the grave and buried everything that was them as a couple to be parents. What had she used to call him?

“Well, if you aren’t going to eat, Daddy-o, ain’t no need for you to be sitting here.” Deb stood, grabbed her empty plate and his half-eaten one, and took it to the kitchen area – shoving his into the fridge for later and hers in the sink.

Aubrey, slow on the uptake, still exhausted, blinked. “Wait, what?”

Placing a hand on her hip and thrusting the generous curve to one side, Deb curled her lip. “Whatever for Daddy-o? Why should I wait for anything, old man?”

“Old man…” Aubrey raised his eyes from the table, looking at his wife.

Having his attention, she reached behind her head and pulled out her hair band holding her braids back. Grabbing one, she drew it in front and undid the bottom rubber band, unweaving the braid, adding an extra three inches once completely down. Then Deb did the same with the other, before tossing her head to the side, with a flounce of hair. “I calls it as I see it.”

“Brat,” her husband whispered.

“You can’t call me that,” Deb stamped her foot.

A smile creeped across his mouth. He said firmly, “Brat.”

“No, no, no,” Deb shook her head, her wavy hair flying, “You can’t call me that.”

“Girl, I can call you what I want.” Aubrey stood, slowly, like a mountain rising from the ocean to the sky. “Come here.”

“No!” Though the shout was defiant, Deb took a hesitant step back.

Aubrey’s shoulders drew back, displaying his broad chest. Sure, the weight soften all the edges, but her husband still did all the yard work around the house and helped out with Habitat for Humanity at least once a month, carrying lumber while she worked the electrical for needy families. Under that fat, the muscle remained and his chest, while not displayed to its best because the lack of visible abs, doubled-back in her memories to the monster of a man he once was, and would always be in her thoughts, held at bay by love and kindness.

“Come.” Aubrey pointed to the linoleum in front of him, his voice growling. “Here.”

Deb curled her lips. “Make me.” The petulant whine mimicked a thirteen-year-old perfectly. Having raised three of them, she was quite proud of the improvement from the last time she bratted.

“Don’t make me come for you.” Her husband dropped his hands to his belt. He sucked in his belly, then deliberately untucked the tang through the buckle. The leather whispered out around his body through each belt loop.

Licking her lips, Deb considered what was about to happen.

Aubrey wrapped part of the long belt around his hands, doubling the leather, then snapping it together.

She jumped. “Now hold on, cousin.”

Aubrey had taken a step forward, but froze at their safe word. Deb couldn’t believe that after thirty years it came back so easily to them both.

“Brat, what is the issue?” His voice changed from the deep rumble to all business.

“As much as I would love the belt, I’m not sure I’m up to it yet.”

He nodded. “I can understand that.” Aubrey’s lips tilted, “But you are going to be spanked.”

“No doubt.” Deb shivered, and her husband’s eyes dropped to her breasts. She looked down, surprised to find the nipples visibly distended through her bra. “But let’s keep it to hands tonight. We can work up to paddles and leather another day.”

Aubrey raised his eyebrows, and his voice dropped in pure satisfaction. “Another day?”

Deb nodded. “Yeah, why not? It’s not like we are going to wake the kids anymore.”

“An excellent point.” He tilted his head to the side, “I will like that.” He smiled at her, and she beamed back. “Now, where were we?”

The woman drew in a deep breath, nodded her agreement to them restarting the scene, and shouted at him, res-stomping her feet, “You aren’t the boss of me!”

“Oh, that is what you think,” Aubrey slapped the leather belt on the table, before reaching out a hand quick as a snake and grabbing her wrist. “I’m not only your boss, I’m your master.”

Deb shivered for real at that proclamation. The words dug down through years and years of housekeeping and childrearing to the woman she once was, looking for a master to her mistress. A partner, which he had been since the moment they met, but also a power. Ying and yang together. His yank had her sliding across the floor, to fall across his lap.

“Not in this lifetime.” She proclaimed, while squirming to help him pull down her pants.

As soon as her khakis slid below the curve of her buttock, he popped her lightly. “Be still.”

“Oh,” she responded with a startled voice. “How dare you!”

“Oh, I dare.” Aubrey rubbed a hand over both cheeks, studying them. They were larger, more broadly spaced than the last time he spanked his wife. “These cheeks of yours need to be as rosy as those bratty lips.” He smacked the right side again, the one with the mole hidden under the soft arc of her derriere. He adjusted the curve of his hand to catch air, then popped her a third time, this one resulting in a moan from Deb and a perfume he had forgotten in the years of paperwork he had been buried under.

“I…” Deb gulped, “no, don’t daddy-o.”

“Are you going to stop being a brat, little girl?”

She kicked her legs in response, moving the pants lower. “I’m not a little girl.”

He smacked her twice on her right cheek. “You are a brat.” He said and then switched sides and released three rapid hits in succession on the other ass-cheek, the final swat hard enough to leave a handprint.


Aubrey started rubbing her reddening rump, making his wife moan from her newly sensitized skin. “But, I was also wrong.”

Deb bit her lip, was it time for another sarcastic response? Yeah, it was. “What else is new?”

Another few swats made her breast tingle as each hit pulled her against his legs, stretching her shirt against her nipples, dragging fabric. Her ass was completely warmed.

“Nothing, because you are not only a brat,” Aubrey ran one finger down her rear, following the crack, then dipped into her slickening honeypot, “you are a slut, and you know what I do with sluts?”

“I bet a big daddy-o like you fucks them.” Deb perked up. “Right up against the dining room table.” Had they ever done that in this house? On this table?

He pressed a second finger into her channel and rotated.

“Oh, god,” slipped out in a groan from Deb. While they still had sex a couple times a month, they hadn’t done anything like this since … since the twins were born. “don’t stop.”

“I don’t plan to.” Aubrey stood, lifting her easily. It wasn’t that she was small, but that he was just that much bigger. Her husband manhandled her over the table, putting one chair under her weaker leg for extra support. “Stay put.” He said, pressing her down hard against the maple-wood surface.

“What, where are you going?” She asked, trying to twist around as she heard his footstep hit the living room carpet. She couldn’t move really well, with her pants and underwear halfway down, and, besides, she was fairly positive he would be coming back to give her a fucking she would remember for weeks, so she didn’t move from position. Before she felt totally abandoned, he was back, placing a pillow on the chair seat beneath her knee and she sighed in relief. Then yelped as he smacked her bottom.

“Better, it was fading to pink.” His hand moved to the other side for some more swats. “Yes. There it is. The perfect shade of red.” Aubrey dragged his hands down her legs, removing her pants and panties completely along with her work socks. Her hardened-toed boots, no steel for electrical workers, were in the garage since she didn’t want to track dirt in the house. His large male hands then cupped her buttocks and squeezed hard enough to hurt.

… and yet not hurt.

She groaned as he lifted her higher.

“Ask for it.” He ordered.

“Are you kidding me?” Deb mouthed off.

“Correction,” Aubrey’s voice graveled like their driveway. “Beg for it.”


He slapped her hard on her posterior. “Say: master fuck me.”

“In your dreams.”

“Oh, we haven’t even started on my dream.” He spanked her again. “Beg.”

She heard his zipper lower. Behind her, she felt his member rub over her heated skin and down, close to where she was ready to receive him. “I …”

“Words brat. I want them.”

“Fuck me. Fuck me hard. I want to cum until I scream.”

He withdrew his dick and slapped her butt a few more times.

“Say please.”

She waited as he lifted her again and lined his penis with her entrance, breaching it, but not  fully entering. Her womanhood wept at the stimulus of the promising threat.

Leaning forward, to whisper in her ear, because he was that much bigger than her, “Beg. Say: master fuck me.”

Deb tried to shove back, to get him inside her, but he held her easily under his weight, as he always had been able to. “Please,” she whined, not sure if she was still pretending. Sweat pooled on her brow.

“Please….” Aubrey whispered, blowing on an ear.


He slammed into her hard enough to move the table, pulled out, and did it again. Sheathing himself completely. Her spanked ass stung as his flesh met hers, the slapping sound as loud as his previous spanks.

“More!” she shouted.

He took her at her demand.

Having slid from under the light fixture in the center of the dining area with each energetic pounding, the table hit a wall before he came hard.

She had screamed her release twice before he had finished.

As she melted into the dining room table, Deb heard him raise his zipper. He reached over her, then the leather belt dragged over her body – from her scalp, the soft leather slithered down her neck and spine and across her ass until the end fell off her body to slap the floor. She listened as he gathered it up and put it back through his pant loops.

“Now brat, I seem to remember you liked to shower; the lotions still in the medicine cabinet?”

“Um, hummm.” Fuck, when had she gone nonverbal?

Aubrey lifted her and carried them to the primary bedroom and their attached bath.


Deb stumbled into kitchen in the morning to find Aubrey making scrambled eggs instead of being off at work. She was running half-an-hour late herself, but there was enough setup work at the site, she really didn’t need to be there for another hour. Going to where the table had been moved back to its normal position, she found the pillow still on one of the dining room chairs and sat down gingerly on that chair.

Aubrey watched smugly as she lowered herself down, sighing.

He slid a plate of eggs and fruit, with a fork in front of her, then returned to the stove, cleaning up the morning cooking. Hot tea whistled in the kettle, moments afterwards, it was in front of her with honey and creamer added to perfection.

Gods, she forgot how much she adored him in aftercare mode.

“Do you need anything else?” he asked, as he pulled her hair until her head tilted back for him to kiss her thoroughly.

“I love you,” she muttered against his lips.

He pulled back, his eyes sparkling, and rubbed a thumb against her lips. “Love you back.”

“We need to do that again,” her eyes searching into his, looking for the wounded soul she knew still lurked, “soon.”

“A weekly date?” Aubrey smirked, “Maybe one with a weekend recovery so you don’t walk funny in front of the guys.”

“Oh, you think you are that good?” She smiled as he stepped back.

A proud proprietorship of their mutual relationship shaped his features, stealing her air with the confidence he emitted. “Oh, I know I am.”

“Yes, absolutely.” Deb laughed. She reached for her tea, took a sip, and sighed contentment. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” He glanced at the microwave clock, before returning his attention to her. “Are you good?”

“Very, very good.” She took a bite of the scrambled eggs, which had been peppered precisely to her tastes. “These are brilliant. Thank you.”

“Don’t do the dishes.” Aubrey ordered. “Leave them in the sink, and I’m bringing home pizza and a movie tonight.”

Deb smiled “Yes … master.”

“Brat,” he said as he reach down to pick up the overstuff briefcase from where he dropped it last night, before striding into the garage, shoulders back and spine straight.

(words 2,933– first published 4/9/2023)

Flash: Naked Truth

Rating Mature

Work dragged all day. Every single customer it seemed needed to be the absolute worst humanity could be. Bryan forces the door to his room completely closed. He would have a devil of a time opening the ill-hung door later, but right now he has some privacy to rant.

“I don’t know why my debit card isn’t working.” … “I don’t know, maybe because it has no money.” He strips his vest and throws it in the dirty pile in the crack of space between his bed and the wall. Stocking the meats had been an entirely different disaster. He’ll have to go through the pile later and see if any were wearable for tomorrow since he didn’t have the time to get to the laundromat today.

“I need to talk to your manager.” … “No, you need to shut the fuck up.” The shirt didn’t pass the sniff test; it joins the vest. Bryan eyes scans the pile of clean laundry just inside the front door. One work shirt left. The pants were fraying at the hem but serviceable. He just needed a clean-enough vest.

His full-size mattress was only a little smaller than his entire bedroom, but at least the room had a door. He had to “pay” his mom extra to get the oversized closet by himself, but whatever.

“It’s a service dog.” … “It’s a rat that peed on the cart and the floor.” Bryan turns in the small space and leans against the wall to step out of his jeans and underwear. He needed to put another notch in the belt; even on the fast food only diet, he kept losing weight.

“Did you get the money?”

“Fuck!” Bryan screams, jumping around to find a glowing naked woman on his rumpled bed. “Daffney?”

“In the flesh,” the brunette smiles up at him. “Well, not really, but as close as it gets now.”

“You’re a ghost,” he says grabbing his flannel jacket off the wall hook to hold it in front of him.


“And naked.”

“Obviously,” She shook her generous top assets, the glow bouncing from pale blue to a brighter red, really bringing out the color of her nipples. “The zombies stripped me before eating. I think the rule is you appear in the clothes you die in. Enjoy!”

Bryan backs until he hit the door. Not a long trip. He schools his face to the normal retail dead reaction he spends most of his days displaying. “Thanks,” he deadpans, trying hard to not to enjoy. Those jugs though, damn.

“You did get the money, right?”

The man coughs, sliding the jacket higher, before speaking. Eyes up on those black pools. Weren’t they blue before? “Yes, all $3,248 of it.” A sad commentary that her 23 years of life ended with only that much saved. Even sadder that it was over double what he had managed to squirrel away. “Thanks.” How does one politely look at a glowing naked woman? Bouncing. Why is she bouncing? How is she bouncing? The mattress didn’t have any spring. Fuck. “You seem happy.”

“All part of that state-you-die-in I think.” Daffney tosses her longish hair over a shoulder. “Doc Woods had me on happy pills, then the zombie drugged me before eating, and, you know, that relief of finally getting out of my home. I’m feeling very positive, even with the whole being dead thing.”

Bryan nods. “Good. That is good, right?”

“Wonderful!” Daffney rises to kneeing, the thread-worn blankets previously tangling her legs and hiding her choochie passing through her as she moves to pool below her body.

Damn, that woman was all that. Some rippling on the thighs, a few rolls across the stomach, but it just made her even bigger than life with her glow.

She frowns, considering. “It’s a bit of a downer, not having people see me other than other dead. And it isn’t even the undead, so I can’t haunt the zombies who ate me. Not that I should, they only did what we agreed to.” Daffney rises to stand on the lumpy mattress. “The biggest slap is I can’t mess with Beth or hurt Curry. I tried to punch him several times and nothing.”

“Now that would suck.” Bryan comments on autopilot, while arguing with himself. This is Daffney. Stop thinking about her that way Little Bryan. Don’t you dare. The glow rocks, says the less sane part of his head. Fuck, says the sane part realizing that it is losing the battle. The jacket fortunately hid most sins, like it did back in high school when they escaped to his room.

“Yeah. The only people who see me are other ghosts, and they don’t do much.” She stops her bounce-walking around on his mattress. “Wait … you can see me! That is so cool.”

“Fuck, my charm!” Bryan focuses on where he had kicked his jeans off. Was it in there or his wallet?

Daffney’s head tilts to the side, her black curls cascading. “Why do you need a charm, Bryan?” her voice deepening, echoing, as she asks the question.


“Are you a naughty boy?”


“No?” The ghost of his only high school friend closed the space between them. “You were always good in school for some craziness but scared to go out at night.” Daffney drags a finger down his slim chest. “Now why is that?”

“Fuck.” Bryan reaches behind him to jiggle the door.

“What are you hiding?” she whispered, pressing closer, her breast flattening against his chest.

“Fuck.” the young man sighs as Daffney grips his hands to remove his jacket and tossing it behind her. It landed in the mostly clean pile.

“Well, that is definitely something that shouldn’t be hidden.” Her eyes turn completely black staring down on his dick.

He had been teased for a lot of things in the locker room but not his dick once puberty hit. Daffney gently grabs a hold of hardening member and pulls. Her touch goes beyond cool to downright icy, but his dick has never minded the cold before. In fact, her touch makes it harder than he had ever been before with anyone.

Looking up again to meet his eyes in wonder as she continued to stroke his dick, driving his lust to try to break up the debate between his sane and not-sane parts. “I can touch you. Isn’t that interesting?”

“Ye…muph” his response drowns when Daffney grabs his head with her other hand and pulls him down for a kiss.

After a few moments, he opens his mouth for her questing tongue and closes his eyes against her glow. It was everything he dreamed about during high school and never acted on, only better, because both of them knew what they were actually doing. He moves his hands to her broad hips and up to her thick waist, the right hand traveling further to find her heavy breast and starts kneading it. Daffney moans in approval. Bryan takes a moment for a deep breath before plunging back in.

She’s a ghost, the sane part of Bryan’s brain pokes in. You’re kissing a ghost.

“Shut up.” Bryan mutters as he spins Daffney around and presses her against the door.

A threshold. The not-sane part of his mind notes. The one he normally tells to shut up. The one that started talking to him when he turned sixteen. That is going to be solid for her, not like the wall. Keep her here.

Will do.

“No way,” the woman moans as Bryan lifts Daffney up to nibble at the blushing nipples. “Not if you keep that up.”

He didn’t know what she was talking about but took her words for approval, working harder at the task, sucking with his mouth on one nipple, plucking the other one with his free hand. His sanity wondered how he was holding this big woman up with one hand so easily, then she wraps her legs around him, freeing up both hands.

Sanity gives up the argument when Daffney guides his dick into her channel.

The not-sane shudders, giving way to emotion, feeling, and non-thought.

Need. Want. Moist. Cold – make warm. Ah, warm. She so warm. Good. Deeper. Push. More. Stabilize. Door. Press in harder, harder. She is screaming. Good. Come on. Come on. Go over girl. YES! More. More.

Mine, the not-sane claims. They fall on the mattress together as the second organism hits them both.

(Words 1,409; first published 2/27/2022)

Series – No Regrets, All Dead

  1. Prepping a Meal (Zombie Version) – Link to 1/25/2022
  2. You Have Mail – Link to 2/6/2022
  3. Naked Truth – Link to 2/20/2022