u/just__peeking

You know the type. Preternaturally tall. Slender yet as strong as a willow tree. Patrician features, a face set in a habitual sneer, except for when he's looking at You. Arrogant and aloof, possessive, immaculately dressed and unfathomably wealthy. Usually in a position of some power in the parallel society that exists beyond the veil of our modern lives.

And he is, of course, utterly and totally obsessed with You. And he is, of course, utterly and totally packing heat between those firm thick Fairy thighs.

Ladies, its OK. I get it. Everyone wants to fuck Lord Byron but without all the, you know, syphilis and borderline personality disorder. I understand. You don't have to explain your desire for an intense emotionally distant man who fucks like a jackhammer and sparkles in sunlight.

So that's what we're doing today. Straight from the bargain bin of the BookTok aisle.

So who are you? Well, you're special in some way, obviously, even though nobody in your regular life recognises that. Speaking of, you'll have a handful of mortal friends who will show up once in the opening chapter and then never get heard from again. You'll have a mediocre job that will likewise be abandoned at the first opportunity as you get swept up in the magical shenanigans.

Heck, you might even have more than one supernatural suitor! You're certainly beautiful enough in that 'she doesn't really have to try to be beautiful' way that actually takes at least an hour to achieve but is conveniently off-page in this story. But definitely what makes you special will be the spark to ignite vicious competition for you, which will of course be inevitably won by the aloof possessive stalker of your dreams.

SCENE: EXT, The same party, an hour later. We join CARL and JUDY on the porch, leaning against the railing.

Judy coughed and spluttered, drunkenly waving her martini glass over the side of the railing, trying to keep the liquid level despite the assault on her taste buds that had prompted said coughing and spluttering.

"Golly," she said eventually. "What did you say this was called again?"

"Regret," Carl said with a wan smile.

"You don't say," she said, taking a second, more cautious sip. "What... what is that--"

"Star anise?" Carl ventured. "And, uh, I think it was Blues Clues chocolate yoghurt, and whatever booze was on the bench."

"Jiminy cricket," she said, shaking her head.

"So, uh, your girlfriend wants me to fuck you."

This time the coughing and spluttering was preceded by a splurt of the toxic concoction into the garden, presumably where it bubbled in the manner of acidic alien blood eating through a metal bulkhead.

"I, uh, I, uh, um--"

"Relax," he said. "Breathe."

He didn't pat her on the back because that never helped. Eventually she recovered enough to say:

"I'm sorry. I'm -- that-- you shouldn't be dragged into our mess," she managed. "That was a private conversation."

"No, no, it's fine," Carl said. "I just, you know how Lucy is. I just wanted to get your side of the story, cos that doesn't really sound like you."

"I know, it's..."

She trailed off. Carl went to say something, but he thought better of it, letting her take the lead.

"I like girls," she said finally. "I know that. But I mean... were your family religious?"

"Not really."

"It's kinda hard to explain to someone who wasn't raised that way," she said, staring out into the darkness. She tucked a lock of long blonde hair out of her face and behind her ear. "You get told your entire life what you are, get told that being any other kind of way is not just wrong but will send you into a lake of fire to be tortured for eternity, you just kind of accept that even if you don't mean to."

"I can imagine," Carl said. "I mean, I can't, you know, relate, but I can imagine."

"Right," Judy said. "You didn't spend your childhood playing with dolls sending Barbie and Ken on dates and one day asking your mom why can't Barbie and Malibu Barbie go on a date and getting spanked with a wooden stick for an hour."

"Jesus, that's horrible," Carl said, shocked. "That's, fuck Judy I'm so sorry."

"It's OK," she said. "Going to college, meeting Lucy... it was a lot and I'm so much happier now and she's great, she's the world, but there's still this voice in me that's like 'but how do you know you know,' you know?"

"I think I know," Carl said. "But why me?"

"Did Lucy tell you why she dumped you?"

"She said, and I'm pretty sure this is a direct quote, 'sorry dude I finger banged Melissa Bainbridge at summer camp and it ruled.'"

Judy giggled, and it sounded like a wind chime.

"Gosh, that's her all right," she said eventually. "Always making everything into a joke cos its easier that way."

"I mean it didn't feel like a joke at the time," Carl said. "It felt like my girlfriend finger banged Melissa at summer camp and the last year we'd spent together meant nothing."

It was an old wound, and one that had scabbed over, healed, and the scab fallen away a long long time ago. Leaving behind new and tender flesh, since weathered by time and one that barely hurt at all any more.

"What she told me happened," Judy said, "when I asked and why she's still friends with you, is that she felt like she'd already dated the best guy she ever would date and so she figured to find what she was looking for she'd have to date women."

"I... fuck," he said, and took another drink. He didn't know he would ever be drunk enough to process that properly.

"So when I'm talking about this stuff and she's doing the Lucy thing when she's trying to solve the problem instead of just listening to me talk about this stuff she's like, I know exactly the guy you need to do this experiment with."

"Fuck me," he said again, chasing that thought down with another sip.

"So like don't worry about it," Judy went on. "It's just a silly thing silly old me said being silly. I can just push this down and suppress it and live my life with a wonderful woman who genuinely makes me so, so happy."

"That doesn't sound great. I mean the last part does, but the suppression bit."

"I grew up Christian, I know how to suppress stuff."

"Yeah but..." he cast about, trying to find the words. "But you don't have to. Any more. That's the whole point of the "ex" in ex-evangelical."

"I suppose..."

They sat with the silence for a moment.

"But um," he said um'd. "If you wanted. If you wanted to. I could, I wouldn't mind."

Judy flicked him a furtive glance. He was still staring into the yard. She looked back out into the distance.

"I mean obviously you're hot," he continued. "But like, I like you. You're nice. I think you're good for my friend and I think I like having you as a friend. So. Uh. If you. If you think it would be good for you, yeah, I could help you out."

"So magnanimous," Judy said, in the closest thing she could ever approximate to sarcasm.

"I did say you were hot," he said. "So it's not, like, I'm not getting anything out of it."

Judy took a deep breath.

"I don't... I don't know," she said, with all the anguish of an emotional dam breaking. "I just have this voice in my head telling me, 'if you've never even kissed a boy, how do you know you're a lesbian?' And I know its stupid and I know it doesn't work like that and I don't want to ruin things with Lucy but I had a poster of this boy band singer over my bed for ten years and I don't know if that's because I thought it was what I was supposed to like or if I liked it and--"

"Hey, hey, it's OK," Carl said. He reached out with one arm, leaving it hovering over her shoulder. "Do you want a hug?"

"I... yeah," she said, sniffing. He placed his hand on her shoulder and pulled her into a close side-hug.

"You know, my family," she said after a second. "None of them asked if I wanted to be hugged. They just did it."

"Yeah," he said. "It be like that sometimes."

They stood like that for a minute.

Then, Judy finished her drink, made a pained face, then threw the martini glass out into the darkness.

"Flip it!" she said defiantly, standing up. "Flip it all to heck! We're doing this!"

"We are?" Carl said. "You don't--"

"Hecking heck I do!" she exclaimed. "I'm drinking and having premarital sex and making decisions! Sexy decisions!"

"Well if you're sure," Carl said, in the tone of someone who isn't really sure but also doesn't really want to derail this oncoming train.

"Woo!" Judy struck a pose, one hand held up to point at the sky. She wobbled, and Carl quickly steadied her.

"Let's find Lucy and share the good news I guess?" he said, taking her hand. Judy swung around, grabbed his face, and planted a messy closed-lip kiss right on his lips.

"Yeah! Good news! Woo!"

"I, I think that was a real glass," Carl said as Judy strode to the door. "We really should find it before someone steps--"

But she was already gone, and Carl scrambled to keep up with her.

There is a secret world, kept hidden from the eyes of normal men, where the rich and powerful are given leave to indulge in the most forbidden of pleasures.

Sex, drugs, gambling: These men and women have grown tired of even the most debauched of pedestrian pleasures. At this level, where wealth insulates them from almost every consequence, there is only one thing left that will satisfy their dark desires:

The life and death of men and women. Lives, taken and ended, through brutal bare knuckle combat. The victors, bathed in the blood of their enemies, fucking in the middle of the ring, proving their absolute dominance.

The rules were simple: A sponsor could nominate a fighter for entry into the tournament. This fighter would have at their side a female companion. This companion would be in their corner: Coach, cheerleader, masseuse, and stress relief all in one. The emotional bond between a fighter and their companion was necessarily strong, forged through training and combat.

Fighters would battle until one man would surrender, be knocked unconscious, have a bone broken or die. The victor would earn the roars of the crowd, millions of dollars in prize money - and the loser's woman.

Some champions kept conquests as trophies: pampered pets, displayed for crowds to stare at in frustrated lust. Some champions would take a single symbolic kiss from their prize and return them to the loser, the humiliation trophy enough.

Others would breed their rival's woman right there in front of the crowd. Overwhelming her womb with his superior seed. Breaking her as thoroughly as he broke his foe, enslaving her with raw animal magnetism.

All of this violence and debauchery for the entertainment of men and women for whom lesser vices had no appeal. A world drenched in every sin, schemes within schemes, fortunes changing hands as quickly as fists exchanged blows.

Who are you?

Are you a sponsor, infatuated with her fighter, seething with repressed jealousy and lust that explodes one night before a pivotal fight?

Are you a fighter, towering muscle and sinew, fighting against the worst monsters to protect what is precious to you?

Are you my companion, fearing for your virtue, invested in my violent success for selfish reasons, moved to passion despite the violence?

Whatever the case, this is a world seeped in sex and violence. God averts his gaze afraid of what his children have wrought, and yet between the spilling of blood, can love bloom even on the abbattoir floor?

-----

"I am 18+ and all participants and characters must be 18+"

44M literate writer seeking a partner to explore the concept of a fighting tournament where women are the prize. Asynchronous play as time zone is weird. Open to riffs and pitches and variations; a must is the idea of fighting and taking something from the loser.

Can be fantasy or sci-fi; anywhere sex and violence can intertwine.

>But please, for the love of god, get a little weird with it. Think about the psychology, not just the physiology. Play with the shame and the regret and the wanting. Think about what we, the women who make this space special [...] might get out of your posts.

SCENE: A suburban home, interior, night. A group of 20-somethings are visible in the background clustered around a table littered with bottles: A house party, the kind where bad decisions are made.

We join CARL and LUCY in the kitchen, leaning on the counter, as CARL mixes them a drink.

"You're telling me you're putting your wandering days behind you?"

Carl twists the top of the shaker closed and takes it in both hands, giving it a series of enthusiastic but artless jerks. He has no idea what's inside it; he just grabbed whatever was on the table and started pouring.

"It sounds like you're calling me a slut," Lucy says, mock-offended. "If I didn't know better I'd be offended."

"Hey, you said it not me," Carl said. "All I'm saying is, gonna be a lot of disappointed ladies in this town when the news breaks."

"Let 'em," Lucy says with a shrug. "Judy is..."

A laugh interrupts them from the lounge. A blonde femme with long hair, Judy is surrounded by their friends, as ever the center of attention. Lucy sighs.

"Yeah, she's something," Carl says, cracking open the shaker and pouring the contents into two dirty martini glasses. "Smart, funny, charming... the fuck is she doing with a piece of shit like you?"

"Fuck off," Lucy shoots back, punching her friend in the shoulder. "I'm a catch! Look at me!"

Lucy rears up to her full six-one of lean, wiry muscle, her red flannel shirt open to a loose white tank atop a pair of khaki cargo pants, only one carabiner away from being a butch stereotype, if a hot one.

"You're a slut and a cariacture of yourself and you know it," Carl jabs, taking a drink. "Fuck this is awful."

"You're awful," Lucy pouts, drinking. "And so's this drink. What d'ya call it?"

"Regret," Carl says. "But for real tho. You make a cute couple."

"Yeah..." Lucy says, sighing. "I thought so, but..."

"Regrets?"

"Not mine!" Lucy is quick to interject. "But... Judy... I'm her first."

"Her first girlfiend?"

"Her first everything. First kiss, first fuck, first fucken, first holding hands on a walk in the park--"

"That's sweet."

"That's terrifying," Lucy says. "I mean, you know me. I'm rocking her world. I had, listen, I had to buy like three waterproof mattress protectors OK?"

"I'm happy for you."

"But she's from a Christian family. Right? Whole childhood filling her head with white picket fence two point five children and keep sweet and obey a mediocre man who doesn't know what he has. What if--"

"What if she wakes up one day and decides what she really wants is a lifetime of unsatisfying hetero sex and two squalling brats who resent her?"

"Yeah!"

"Well if you put it like that--"

"Lissen," she says, swaying slightly. "I'm serious. We talked about this. She loves me, she's crazy about me but she doesn't have the, the perrrrrr-spective to know how fucken great I really am."

Carl nodded, half sympathetic, half morbidly fascinated to know where this was going.

"She ain't never had a dick before."

"I think that was kind of implied," Carl said.

"No no no," Lucy said, rearing up to her full height. "She ain't never had dick before!"

"You own a strap," Carl pointed out. "I've seen it. It's your party trick, four beers in and you're wearing it and chasing the freshmen."

"Nonononono," Lucy said. "She ain't had dick. She ain't had the experience of a premature ejaculation going off in her hand ten seconds after she got his pants down. She hasn't, fuck, she hasn't been disappointed, had two pumps in her cunt and a hurried pull-out and mumbled sorries as she tries to figure out what she's going to do now her evening's opened up."

"I.... OK..."

"Lissen," she said, leaning on her elbow and pointing a finger at where she thought his face was. It was one of those three. "I c'n have her squealing for five, six hours straight, take a nap, then take her back to heaven for six hours more but that's normal for dykes. We're built different. I'm jus' worried she's not gonna, she's got this unreconstructed straight propaganda in her pretty lil' face she ain't worked through to know how good she got it."

"This really sounds like a therapist conversation. I should be charging you."

"You need to fuck her."

Carl was shocked. "You what?"

"We talked about this," Lucy said, her voice manic. "I'm not making this up. She said she's always kinda wondered what the fuss was about and I told her it ain't much and she says yeah but and I'm like well if you wanna go for it and she says well if you're sure but I'm so shy and I go--"

"You go," Carl said, "'gosh, when I think of unsatisfying mediocre sex, I go straight to my good buddy Carl!' Yeah, great, thanks."

"No you dick," Lucy said. She sounded anxious, desperate, tortured, in a way Carl had never seen her before. "I trust you. I mean..."

Years between them hung in the air. They'd dated in high school, a torrid year of experimentation that ended when Lucy discovered girls and Carl discovered different girls. Still, they'd kept in touch. Stayed close.

"I don't want her to have a bad time," Lucy conceded. "Just to, I dunno. Get it out of her system. And I know you won't be a dick about it."

Carl's mind was racing. There were so many ways this could go wrong. This was a terrible idea. There was no outcome where this didn't end badly in some way shape or form.

"I'll have to talk to Judy."

"Of course."

"And I'm wearing a rubber."

"Of course."

"I mean it. No baby-trapping, sperm-donating weirdo shit."

"Like your sperm's all that."

"Not really selling me on this."

"I -- sorry! I mean, You will? Really?" The relief crashed over her like a waterfall. "I, I'm sorry this is messy as fuck and I'm drunk and you're drunk and she's drunk--"

"It's fine," Carl said, his mind racing. This was a bad decision.

But isn't that what being young was for? Making bad decisions?

So I haven't written any GWA scripts for, god, probably nearly a decade now, mostly because I find the second-person GWA "house style" kind of limiting? Obviously it's a genre that is wildly popular or it wouldn't be the default mode of GWA content, it's just a format that hasn't inspired me for a long time.

Which got me wondering... has anyone attempted to wrangle several voice actors into producing a full-on full-cast erotic audio drama? Even just for one file. I figure there has to be an audience and there's definitely the talent out there for such a thing.