I am a fictional character, in name and spirit. I enjoy fire and necromancy, and making heterosexual adventure stories as queer as physically possible.

Story is marked as mature.

Full frontal in the mirror, in flesh toned underwear and a crop top I bought a Good Will, I am unsure.

Stretch marks like battle scars, a war against myself and society and my parent's expectations, exposed. I think I look good but I have no one to show, no one to tell, no one to confirm or deny that what I feel about myself isn't just false hope and self delusion. I want validation. I want casual encounters without social interaction, I want mindless sex without romantic attraction.

I want you to love me.

I want to fuck.

I'm parked, I'm trapped, I'm fat. I look in the mirror in clothes like these and I think 'Hot damn, I'm a catch, I'm beautiful and curvy and I can do this thing with my tongue that will make you scream.'

I think 'I want a one night stand that lasts for the rest of my life. I want hair pulling and name calling and someone to cuddle and watch Lord of the Rings with...

I want a life partner and lover, and I want validation that I am something more than words.


No prequels yet. Why not write one?

« Write a prequel


No sequels yet. Why not write one?

Write a sequel »

Comments (0 so far!)


This story's tags are

  • Published 6 years ago.
  • Story viewed 6 times and rated 0 times.

All stories on Ficlatté are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 License. What does this mean?