Oh, yes, my morning has been an interesting one. I finished up a call with a friend who is recording stories of the paranormal for the Halloween season. Of course I had something happen to me: I’m a strange dude, and strangeness seems to follow me around. And while I can discount 99% of the things that have happened around me–most of those happened early on in my life, and most followed the consumption of drink and drugs–there are a few things that have happened to me that I can’t explain away: in particularly, there were two events–the ones I just spoke on–that I can’t explain away, and that were, in some strange way, related.
When I get into it, I think my early exposure to the paranormal shaped me in a way I can’t describe. I think it put me in a situation where I had one foot in the real world and one foot in a world that was very, very unlike ours. And when you tie this into my interest in science fiction, it has sort of twisted me in a way that is good, but is, for a lot of people, very strange.
Some of this has shown up in my writing. Body enchantment, conjoinment, objectification: it’s all there, and I’ve written about it for more than ten years. Body swapping and changing: sure, why not? BDSM and all that it entails: of course, silly. And if you can take any of those and place them into a science fiction or horror genre, go ahead and do it.
I have written straight science fiction and/or horror. I think it’s safe to say the novel I’m writing for NaNoWriMo is probably science fiction, but when you add in magic I’m certain someone would say I’m mashing up genres and I’m crossing over into fantasy as well.
And it goes a little deeper than that as well . . ..
Part of the plot of my new novel is that the protagonist isn’t who she appears to be–I’m not telling you why, you’ll just have to buy my novel when it’s completed–and the only way the cast of characters finds out for certain that she’s telling the truth is when they end up at the home of the main character’s best friend . . . who is also her lover . . . and who is also a vampire. And once the protagonist’s vampire lover “tastes” her–well, now, all doors are opened.
To me it’s not a big deal, but I’m sure there are some who would read that and go, “Oh, gawd, what are you doing? Vampiric lesbian sex?” Yeah, right. I’m so sorry to hurt your delicate virgin eyes, but that’s mild to me . . ..
For me, erotica is everywhere, and it’s not just leather dresses and boots and keeping someone leashed like your personal pet. Sure, that can be part of it, but if I look hard I can find it everywhere, in the simplest things. And for me, erotica isn’t always about sex. It can be about the relation between people, the looks they give, maybe something they wear and how it appears . . . anything.
It’s just that your mind has to be in that area to realize there is extremely sensual things surrounding us constantly. It’s just a matter of how you take them.
I mean, what should I make of the following dream:
I wake up next to someone, and the first thing she does is roll over and slipped a nipple into my mouth. I begin suckling and she’s lactating, so I feed from her. And I feel things happening to me, but nothing of a sexual nature, just–change.
When I’m done draining her she leads me from the bed and takes me to the bathroom. I look in the mirror and discover I’m a very beautiful woman, maybe in my 30’s, though it’s hard to tell. The woman does my hair and makeup, slips in earrings, and then takes me back into the bedroom where she dresses me in a very feminine way, but nothing overtly sexual.
We find our way into the living room, and she puts a very pretty diamond necklace around my neck and tells me I’m to stay the way I am as I long as I keep the necklace on. I’m happy with that; in fact, I’m very happy with everything. It seems all so normal to me that I don’t mind that I’m this petite woman who is not only agreeing to everything my friend it telling me to do, but I’m loving it. I’m loving the feeling that I have no control over any of this. Sure, it’s a dream, but I feel this, and it’s all very natural.
As with most dreams things aren’t linear, and it seems like the end of the day comes and we’re resting on the sofa and I ask, so how much longer do you want me to wear this necklace? And there’s a chuckle and a smile, and I hear, “Oh, love, I glued the clasp shut when I put it on you–”
I smile and look at her, and there is a look between us and I feel the love in that look, but also the desire we both have. I slide off the sofa, get on my knees, and begin kissing her feet before I start sucking on her toes . . ..
So, do I enjoy the idea of becoming someone’s petite little girl who wants to please? Is there any sort of erotic feeling there that can be mined for a story?
Does one have anything to do with the other?
You tell me.