Male Inflation

"Hand over the purse, lady."  It's a gruff voice out of the night, a threatening bark that leads me to gasp and start involuntarily even though I've come down this forbidding road intentionally in a quest for my unusual brand of fun.  It's an adrenaline shot through my whole body, like boiling water through my veins.  It's time.  I hug my purse protectively closer to my rib, and slowly revolve to face my assailant.  He's there in the yawning shadows between the two dim streetlights, the knife edge a gleaming ribbon in the dark.

"It's really silly, my fetish," I say, making significant effort to allow embarrassment into my voice. I drop my eyes from his as if ashamed, though I've had this conversation a dozen times before.

"Nonsense," he counters, smiling patronizingly. It's there to read in his face: already he is fantasizing that it must be something predictably male. His imagination takes hold of him and he surmises I must be dreaming of a threesome with him and another woman. Uninspired. The truth is far more perverse.

This is a love story set on a planet called Bion.

Irina was only halfway through a mug of mead when Cerys ran into the inn and to Irina's side.

Irina sighed. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!"

Irina gave her a sharp look. "I told you I don't want to draw attention while we're travelling."

"No, really!" Cerys said. "I was just looking around the outpost and some men yelled at me!"

"Why are you worried? You're indestructible."

"They're scary! Oh no, here they come!"