I write erotica for pay under a number of pseudonyms. My favorite stories are the ones where I get to create entire worlds. Here is one of my favs – a short shapeshifter romance. Enjoy!
“I need a man like you,” Lucy said as she rubbed Jeff’s belly. “You know, a bigger guy, good beard, gentle and masculine at the same time. Someone who is not overly man-scaped.”
“Honey, if only you were a gay guy, I would have half of my friends knocking down your door!” Jeff wrapped his arms around his bestie, giving her a big, solid bear hug. “You’re my Goldilocks.”
Lucy laughed. She loved this term. Since she started hanging out with the bears at the local leather bar, she felt like she had found her people. Gay bears were the best. Big, hairy guys who were comfortable in their own skin, who did not conform to society’s ideals of masculinity or gayness, and who thought her own ample curves were sexy. They called her their “Goldilocks” and showered her with love and free beer whenever she went out with them.
“Le sigh. Alas, my lack of a dick means I will never be too big, too small or just right,” Lucy giggled at her own joke.
“You’re perfect the way you are honey! I mean, look at those curves! Who out there can’t resist your double-Gs!” Jeff gently squeezed her breasts together creating an inordinate amount of cleavage. “I mean, James Franco could lose his arm in there for 127 Hours!”
Lucy laughed, “I wish! The only things to get caught in there in the last four months have been crumbs! Can you believe it, four months since Paul and I split.” Lucy screwed up her mouth, “Such a dick-face.” She was still angry about the split.
“Sweetie, we will find you someone. Someone who deserves you. Not some guy who comes in pretending to be one thing, then three months later is all ‘I need you to know something. If you love me you will support me through this.’ Then goes out and cheats on you.’” Jeff wrapped his arm around Lucy’s shoulder and gave her a solid squeeze.
Lucy sighed. “You’re right. I know you are. I just can’t deal with another round of online dating. There are so many trolls out there who send me nasty messages about my weight. It’s hard not looking like a yoga model when you are trying to find a man.”
“We will find you a nice, straight bear. They are like unicorns. People think they are a myth, but if you believe they exist, you will eventually find one. The big difference is bears don’t fart glitter.” Jeff laughed.
“I couldn’t date a unicorn. I HATE cleaning glitter out of bedsheets!” Lucy smiled broadly. “See you Saturday?”
“Yep, four o’clock at Scuffy’s. They are doing a barbeque on the patio.” Jeff confirmed their regular Saturday date at the local gay bear bar.
* * * * *
“Fuck, I hate online dating,” Lucy thought to herself. She flipped to her Facebook page and scrolled through her list of friends. Reaching the end of her list, she sighed. With over 400 friends, there should be one datable man, but alas, no. They were friends but there was no romantic chemistry, or they were married or dating, or they were gay, or something. But she did not have one single male friend with the characteristics she wanted in a partner.
She sat and stared at her feed. It was a late Wednesday night. The usual pictures were up: memes about love and friendship, pictures of friends at dinner, lots of pictures of beers or food from various restaurants, a few invites for weekend events. The feed continued to load but she did not register what was on the screen.
She took the last sip of her vodka tonic and clicked over to LoveMatch, her online dating site. She clicked on her own profile to bring up any messages. Her own pale face with dark brown hair smiled back at her. She chose this photo because she thought she looked cute in it. Her hair was in a short bob, her make-up was on point, and she was sporting a Led Zeppelin t-shirt which she thought made her look hip. She was also out at a local park which she thought conveyed the idea she was active despite being overweight.
Her stats showed 17 men had “loved” her profile since she logged in on Monday, two had sent a “love tap” and there for three new inbox message. Looking at the flashing three above the envelope icon made her heart sink. Her thin girlfriends reported getting 40 or 50 messages a day on the site. Admittedly, most of the men that messaged them were dismissed out of hand as undatable for one reason or another, but still three in comparison to 50 was a blow to the ego.
She clicked on the first message from Hunkaburninluv.
“Hey you! Love the curves! Would love to roll around in those tits!”