By Robert Kingett.

This monologue was recorded in 2023,

The book reports.

Hey, it’s me. I guess you’re busy. I completed the book report you wanted me to edit. It was a lot of fun, actually! Who knew that Mrs. Amanda would give us such an epic assignment as to study a dinosaur erotica for English class!

I sent it to both your emails, and I also sent you an instant message, but, well, really though, I don’t know why you even had me to this in the first place. You seemed to understand the story, the themes, and the plots, so I don’t even know why you needed my help editing this thing. You could have done this yourself, now I think about it.

I was more than happy to help, but, like, this has been going on for a while. You asking me to help you but then you ignoring me all the other times I want to say hey to you or even ask how your day is going. What’s up with that, by the way? You know I kind of feel like that bird in chapter two that got crushed by the bigger dinosaur, but, now we’re on the subject, that’s a perfect allegory for how You’ve been treating me these past few months. If this is what a condom feels like, I feel used!

Not that you make me feel that way all the time. I mean, I love you, so that’s why I love helping you, but I’d like to talk to you sometime. In person. About this. About us, and, well, most importantly, about my agency in this relationship.

When I first started this relationship, I felt equal. Equal weight in all decisions. Lately, I feel trapped in a sea of fly by visits and insecurities. This report, I mean, I was more than happy to do it, but, well, I think it’s time for you to treat me better than a condom! I think, next time, I think I’m going to say no. I think, next time, you can do your own book reports!

by Robert Kingett.

We all have writing that we look back on and think, hmm, this was fun, but it didn’t age well. This story features subtle psychological abuse. In a way, it mirrors what I went through. The only difference is, I didn’t have a Rodger to come and rescue me. I wish I did, though.

No abuse story is the same. Some might think that me having Rodger save the main character is a sign of weakness. The only response that I must give is, I wish I had a Rodger in my life.

this was the first romance story I wrote with a Blind character such as myself. I’ve created many other blind protagonists since then. I have to say, even though this was my first romance story before I knew that I was skilled at writing romance, I do not think I did that bad of a job.

This story does have a happy for now ending. I hope it provides you with some insight into my earlier work. Enjoy! Also, remember, you’re not alone.

A Deserving Conference.

I hit enter before I consciously realized it. I couldn’t help it though. The post spoke to me in a way no other had. I could identify with the blogger easily because they were coming from a place deep within themselves. I knew this about them without even having to know them. I experienced everything they were experiencing. The confusion of navigating a world that was straight and able bodied.

I looked at the post again, rather than the comment I just posted. The blogger, who, apparently, lived in the same small town as I did, was musing about the intersection of disability and queer identity. Every bit of her post sang to me and resonated with me, even though I was a gay blind male and she was a deaf lesbian. We had a lot in common, so I decided to open up, on a screen this time.

I went back into her post, skimming it with my screen reader, fluently navigating her page and picking out key passages that leapt out at me. How she liked to go to a certain singular LGBT friendly coffee shop to just be amongst her own because the rest of the world was too exhausting. That’s something that I related to, obviously, which is why I poured my heart out in her comments section. I told her that we lived in the same town and that I ultimately wanted the same thing she did - a space to exist, and not explain, constantly. A place to live, rather than fight, a place to nestle, rather than be vigilant for any slight in my basic human rights as a gay blind man.

I used my screen reader’s keyboard commands to jump to the heading on the page where all the comments nestled. Ever since Trump became president, the brave soldiers kept coming out of the woodwork to proclaim, yet again, about how they don’t hate gay people, but isn’t this diversity thing a little too much?

I moved my cursor down to my novelette, listened to a few lines, just appreciating it. It felt like I was doing something grand, especially since I’ve never read this blog before. I came across the Silent Triangle when I was doing a random search on Google for other gay disabled bloggers. She came up. I devoured all her posts but never commented. I guess there’s a first time for everything. I didn’t tell anybody this, however. None of my friends knew she existed. My current boyfriend, Travis, also didn’t know she existed. She was my little Queer secret. She was a treasure to me and I didn’t even fully realize it until today.

As soon as I pressed Alt F4 to close the browser, I heard the sound of keys turning outside the front door. Travis had returned home, it seemed. I quickly pressed the keyboard commands to change the speed of the screen reader back to its original rate. Travis insisted that, ever since I moved in his place months ago, that I digitally pick up after myself. If I changed a setting, he’d expect me to change it back, even though he could easily do it himself with a few keyboard commands. I heard him tell Alexa to enable the security system and then he traipsed through the wood-floored rooms to look for me.

“I’m in here.” I called out to the retreating, thud, thud, of his wandering sneakers. The sound doubled back to my direction. I knew Travis was nearby because of his scent, so I stood up to hug him and fold his cane for him. Even though his cane was a vastly different model than mine, going as far to have a pencil tip as opposed to a mushroom tip, even though we lived in a small town where sidewalks had a lot of cracks, I could handle it pretty easily. It was like sighted people driving a stick shift when they were used to an automatic. Or something. I wasn’t an expert on cars.

“Hey babe.” I chirped.

His baritone had an unhappy lilt to it as he hugged me, “Hey… so, how was your, um, quiet time?” His long skinny arms didn’t even envelop me like they used to. They just haphazardly embraced me. He then pulled away and sternly looked at me. I could sense it, even though he couldn’t see either.

I looked up at his face, eager to stand on tiptoes to kiss him, but before I could, he asked me if I had been cheating on him.

“Oh yeah!” I snorted. “I met this deaf blogger online and, well, now I think I’m going to leave you to become a fabulous lesbian.”

He didn’t laugh. At least, not in a way I could tell. His breath peppered my face with resemblance of cheese and milk as he sternly retorted, “That’s not funny, Shane. First, you tell me you don’t want to go shopping with me, then you tell me that you’re going to go lesbian?”

“You don’t just go lesbian.” I countered. He sighed, kissed the top of my head, and ruffled my hair. His massive soft hands felt comforting and inviting. They could make me feel like nothing would ever hurt me or bother me again, which is why I positively melted like a puddle every time we held hands.

When we were first dating, people would ask us all the time if we knew that we were in an interracial relationship. I always rolled my eyes and exclaimed that I never noticed the difference. In fact, I thought we were distant family or something.

I moved in with him because he was a really kind guy from the get go. He was always attentive to my needs and wants. Having an abusive father, and a mother who bailed on me at an early age, fostered this craving inside of me. It made me want to have love and affection. I didn’t feel special, but Travis always told me I was before talking about himself, so, I dropped everything to move into the house his mother left him after she died. It seemed fitting. And, so far, I couldn’t complain. What was really great about Travis and I was the fact that he understood the blindness, straight away. He lived in the same world I did. I didn’t care that he was black. He, in turn, didn’t seem to care that I was white, either. We were the blind ambition, I’d always joke.

He sighed before turning away from me, still holding my hand as he flicked through his iPhone with the other hand. I could hear the tiny sound of VoiceOver through his headphones. He was swiping through the Lyft app, dragging his finger across certain parts rather than navigating the traditional way. He was at the tips screen in Lyft.

“How much should I tip my driver?” Travis asked me before double tapping on a number before I could answer. I continued anyway.

“I think you should hit that fifteen percent button.” I said. He chuckled before locking his phone and turning around to embrace me.

“You’re not still raging mad that I didn’t go shopping with you?” I asked, half joking, but he smiled as he said, “Oh yes, I’m insanely furious.” His voice adopted a slightly commanding tone as he said, “You should have come with me to the store. I’d have been back sooner if you went with me.”

I didn’t quite see how this would be possible, but I immediately shook my head. “You were gone for like an hour. So, basically, you were in and out.” I tapped my phone and VoiceOver read the time out loud. I did a single finger press to get VoiceOver to hush. He gripped me tighter.

“You could have done that article when you got home… whatever though. You always disobey me anyway,” he said, kissing me on the head. Even though this made me slightly uncomfortable, I didn’t say anything because it would just make him mad. That’s something I revealed in my comment on the blog. I revealed other things too, nothing too damaging, I hope. I just wanted straight sighted people to understand that beneath the differences, we’re all human. I did tell her that her relationship sounded really good. And, that I was doing okay in mine.

Travis dragged me to the kitchen table and sat me down before tapping out a message on his phone. He was using the method I set up for him to start the stove and a few other appliances. Sure, we had Alexa, but with my speech disability, she didn’t always understand me, so I had to utilize the power of the Internet to make text commands hook into their API. I may have gotten a lot of things wrong, but in the end I made some adaptive versions of Alexa. I used Google for a lot of these because the Google assistant had text input capability. Travis was about to cook something, but I didn’t know what, so, I asked him.

“Since you’re not going anywhere tonight, with me or otherwise, I guess I’ll tell you.” He said with a smile. “It’s your favorite. Spaghetti.” “Great!” I exclaimed while standing up.

“Where are you going?” Travis demanded.

“To get headphones!” I called as I dug my iPhone out of my pocket and issued the various commands to make the AirPods beep. I always had a bad habit of setting them down somewhere, and then forgetting about them, even before moving in with Travis. As soon as I picked up my phone, I heard the notification sound, and then VoiceOver reading the notification. I was too busy getting my headphones to hear it though, so I opened up the notification center with a few gestures. Travis had tweeted that he was cooking dinner for me, because I loved him. He tagged me in the tweet, so I replied after retweeting it.

@theweirdkitty @magicalcook of course I do! You’re the best. Guess what he’s making for me tonight guys, my favorite! I love him so much!

I closed the twitter app and navigated to my email. VoiceOver had a little trouble staying focused on open messages, but my thumb was accustomed to fighting with the screen reader. I thought about checking it on my laptop, but I wanted to be on the alert in case my writer’s retreat application results came in.

The largest LGBT literary organization was hosting a two-week writer retreat with everything paid for, even the train ride. The $30 application fee seemed like a microscopic sacrifice compared to, well, everything else they offered in return.

I found my ear buds and walked back into the kitchen, sat at the table, and flicked through all my emails, using the trusty two finger swipe down to listen to novellas from my best straight girlfriend about all of her Africa adventures.

“What are you listening to babe?” Travis asked every few minutes.

“Email.” I repeated. I really didn’t understand why he was so worried about not being able to hear what I was doing on my iPhone.

I nearly missed the email from the writer’s retreat organizer. The email subject sounded like spam, so I nearly told VoiceOver to delete it. Upon opening it however, I couldn’t stop gaping. I couldn’t believe was VoiceOver was telling me. I was stunned.

“What are you listening to, babe?” Travis asked again. I couldn’t hold it in. I absolutely had to tell him.

“Guess what? So, you know that conference? You know the one where I cried for a billion hours over, last time, because I didn’t make it in?

Guess what? I made it in!“

I expected him to jump up and down or something, but he stood very quiet, just a few feet from me, working on the dinner.

"That’s great babe. How did this happen?“

“I don’t know!” I exclaimed, practically bouncing out of the solar system, “I guess they just liked my work this time. Oh my god! Travis! I’m so happy! Now I will be in California for two weeks! I can’t believe it. I’ll get to be around other queer authors and queer editors and I am just so ohmygod excited!”

“I’m very happy for you babe… I hope we can squeeze in one more trip together, here, before you go away for, what was it? Three years?”

“Two weeks!” I said, laughing. “I’m so excited Travis! I can’t believe this is happening. I mean, it’s happened, but I don’t believe it’s happened. I mean, it happened, but, oh my god oh my god oh my god!”

I was too busy gushing and squealing to realize that Travis had set a full plate of spaghetti down before me. I gobbled it up, jabbering the whole while.

“Oh my god! Travis. What kinds of readings do you think I will do there? How do you think the food will be at the hotel?”

“So, babe? How do you like your spaghetti? I made it for you just the way you like it. Is it as good as always?”

“What kinds of techniques do you think I’m going to learn? I mean, they got workshops there and stuff like that, so I bet I’m going to learn a lot of writing stuff, like techniques and otherwise. And, guess what? I get to be with other queer writers.”

“I’m a little confused.” Travis chastised as he chewed. “What does that offer that you can’t do here? I mean, I still don’t understand why you go to that LGBT coffee shop nearby when you could be staying here with me, away from all those other boys.”

“Uh, well, it’s going to be a place to work and a place to network- “

“See, there’s a neat invention, Shane. It’s called, social media. It’s called email. Why do you have to go away for so long, around other gay men? I mean, what’s stopping a man from taking you away from me.”

“I don’t understand what your big deal is. Yes, there’s going to be people there and yes, there’s going to be other gay people there, but it’s a place to work and network. Yeah, I can do that online. I’ve been doing that online for years. This is a once and a lifetime chance. And, as for the coffee shop, I just need to get out of here for a while.”

“Oh, so you don’t like me, then? You don’t like being around me, then? I see how this goes. Why do you always have to think about yourself and you never even stop to consider what I want or need.”

I shook my head, confused as to why he was so upset and what he was even upset about.

“Travis, what are you so mad about?”

“Shane. I’m upset because you don’t even want to be around me. You want to go off and go away from me to be with other gay guys. A relationship has to have loyalty, you know?”

“Loyalty? Are you kidding me? Loyalty? What? I’ve been loyal to you!”

“Why can’t you write here, huh?” I didn’t want to answer because I, in part, didn’t know how to explain that I felt, in a way, like I was being smothered. I felt trapped, in a way, but I couldn’t explain how I felt this way or even why I felt this way because I loved Travis. Travis was my everything.

“Look, Shane.” Travis continued. I’m just worried about you is all. I just don’t want you to get hurt. When you’re here, I can protect you better. I can-“

“But wait, see? I don’t understand this about you either, Travis. I don’t get it. I really don’t. If I have to be loyal to you then you have to trust me in return, okay? Don’t assume that just because you can’t hear VoiceOver that doesn’t mean that I’m cheating on you, okay? Look, besides, this isn’t like that

anyway. Consider this work. Okay?“

“How do you like your dinner?” Travis asked, in a defeated voice. I immediately felt bad, and like all of his unhappiness was my fault and something I needed to fix. Friends were rare for me at the place I lived so I had no choice but to trust him. He sounded so morose I immediately rushed over and kissed his cheek, snuggling into his arms and having him rock me. It allowed me to melt into his presence and bask in it. He, in turn, never told me why he enjoyed it so much, but I knew he did. I could sense it when he tightened his embrace. He began to cry, and I immediately felt even worse.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry babe!” I exclaimed as I kissed his streaming tears.

“Shane… I just, I just, I just don’t want you to get hurt, is all.” He said as he rocked me.

“But, I mean, you got to let me fall sometimes. Support me while I’m trying to pick myself up. Don’t just try to prevent me from falling at all, okay?”

“So, you’re still going to this thing?”

“I am, yeah.” I said, kissing him. “I’ll blog about it, so you can read all about it.” He smiled but I still felt guilty. How could I do this to him? I thought, but I really did want this. I’ve been applying for this retreat for years and was finally accepted. I couldn’t eat anymore so I took my laptop into our bedroom to do some proper emailing. VoiceOver didn’t make entering text on an iPhone lightning fast so that’s why I preferred to use a laptop or desktop. My fingers could dance across the keys. Whereas, on the iPhone, they fumbled.

I emailed the coordinator about accommodations I’d need, all lecture handouts were to be sent to me via email before lectures, and otherwise. They were delighted to have me there. This renewed my fierce desire to go. I wanted to go. I then felt like Travis didn’t understand me at all. My thoughts flitted from, going, to saying that I couldn’t attend after all because I had a family emergency. Which, wouldn’t be a total lie, but the bigger question I had, especially when I lay in his arms that night, was, why did he need me?

Over the next few days, Travis wouldn’t let me out of his sight. The coffee shop around the corner I usually went to was off limits to me because he said he needed help around the house. Buying things for our food stash online, and a variety of other things. I was so busy doing little things around the house that I barely had time to talk to the retreat coordinator about my train ticket. We confirmed it over the phone despite my lack of email communication. I apologized to her and explained that my boyfriend needed me to do a lot of things around the house, and that I just didn’t have enough time to check my email. We finally arranged for me to get on the evening Amtrak. Because of my blindness, I’d have to get there early. I could just take a Lyft there. Travis knew how to work the Alexa, so I didn’t need to do a whole lot to prepare for my trip. Still, though, the excitement of it kept gnawing at me. I was so jittery that I wasn’t paying full attention to Travis when he was telling me that he managed to land a gig as an actor down at the local theater. I immediately felt terrible, especially because Travis immediately made me see where I went wrong with my selfishness.

“Here, I am, getting this gig, and, you don’t even care? All you care about is that conference. Babe, there’s gonna be other conferences or whatever, trust me. This play though? It only runs for this season, so can you stay here and come to this play instead?”

“Travis, you know I want to, but I can’t. I’m gonna be in a different state!”

“Look, Shane…” I waited on him to continue. Finally, after a long silence, he looked straight at me and said, with the sultry voice that captivated me so many months ago, “I’m so proud of you Shane.”

The next day, the day I was to leave for the conference, Travis went somewhere early, which gave me a chance to get out of the house and head down to my coffee shop. I took my laptop because I planned to do some research while there. I unfolded my cane and shorelined the whole way there, humming as I went. I was still ecstatic about where I’d be going in a few days.

I made it to the shop and ordered my usual iced coffee before taking a seat in my usual booth in the back. When Jonathan, the manager who’s gotten to know me well over these past few years, asked me where I’d been, I told him the truth. I told him I was being a house dad. I couldn’t hold in my excitement though and told him all about the conference and my eventual victory. He was so happy for me he said I could have anything on the house for a week before I was away. Chuckling, he offered me anything he had in stock.

“On the house!” he kept insisting. I chose a new kind of coffee I had never tried before. Cuban coffee. It was utterly delicious.

Because I was gulping away, I didn’t notice someone sat down across from me until they said my name.

“Shane Gilson?”

I jumped so badly I nearly dropped my drink. A soft hand touched my arm as I sat down my cup.

“It’s okay. I’m, like, sincerely sorry I scared you. I’m Roger.”

“Roger?” I repeated, completely confused. “Um hi! I’m Shane Gilson.

Nice to meet you.“

“I know who you are. I’ve read all about you from your blog. And, if I may say so, you’re a cutie. You are epic looking in person.”

Despite this weird exchange, I couldn’t help but smile and joke.“You mean I’m not good looking in my pictures online?”

His chuckle made me stop and pay attention to him. His voice floated a good way above my head, so I guessed he was six feet tall. He had a very soft voice, very soothing and calculated, but somehow possessed the lax cadence of someone who just, simply, didn’t let every minor thing bother him. I suddenly homed in on the fact that he said I was cute. These were times when I wish I could get a visual picture. Still, I liked his calm manner of speaking. I detected a slight accent but couldn’t quite place it. New York, maybe? He dipped his tone subconsciously at the end of certain vowels but that didn’t give any region anyway.

“Actually,” he said, “on the contrary. You’re cute in person, and, online.” He said, with a smiling lilt in his voice. He smiled easily, so this was a plus.

“It’s nice to meet you!” I said, stretching out my hand. A big, strong, yet smooth, hand gripped mine and shook it softly. I immediately liked the warmth of his hands. They almost seemed as if they were magical.

“I’m so happy you’re here today.” He said. And, I detected eagerness in his speech. He was waiting on me to be here, but why?

“Wait,” I interjected, “wait, you knew I was going to be here? But we’ve never met. Do you come here often or something?”

“No. I just came here today. This is my first time.” He said, still holding onto my hand. I didn’t mind. But still, if this was his first time here, then how did he know my name?

“How did you know I come here? I mean, my blog doesn’t say anything about the address of the place or anything. So, honestly? I’m a little worried about how you found me and the fact you, well, found me, to begin with.”

“Yeah. I tracked you down, honestly. I tracked you down from a comment you left on my sister’s blog.”

“But I didn’t…” I took a deep breath and tried again. “Is… is, is your sister deaf?”

“Yup! She’s deaf.”

“She’s deaf?” I squeaked, as if I didn’t know how to process English.

He chuckled.

“That blog post you left your comment on? That’s my sisters blog.”

“Oh. Woot!” I retorted, romantically, causing him to giggle in reply. Beside us, I could hear some dudes muttering about the queer agenda has gone too far, simply because we were allowed to laugh and be human and hold hands like any other straight couple.

“So,” I began, ignoring the jerks. “What do you look like?” It was the only logical thing I could think of, after being told that I had just been stalked by some guy named Roger.

“Well,” I’m black.“ He said, and I shook my head. “I mean, describe your face. Not your color.” So, he did. As he was telling me all about how average looking he was, but that his eyes were very big, I tried to squash the mounting fear that this stranger, this man, stalked me - I had to cut him off.

“I’m sorry, but why did you stalk me?”

“Stalk?” he asked, perplexed. “Oh! I’m! I’m so sorry if it looks like- “

“Dude, it, is! Stalking. It’s not, like, anything. It is, in fact, stalking.”

“I’m sorry Shane, I really am.” His voice was so soft and soothing I believed him without even trying to. “I’m so sorry! I really am. I’m sorry, I guess you didn’t get my email or tweets?”

“Uh. Email? Tweets? Oh! Um, no. I mean, it’s still stalking, but, no, I didn’t. My boyfriend needed me around the house and- “

“You mean Travis. That’s why I’m here, actually.” My grip tightened on his hand, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he took his other hand and gently caressed it, which is something Travis never did. I instantly melted and gripped his hand tighter. Without warning, tears sprang to my eyes, but I fought to keep them at bay and stared hard at where I imagined his wide eyes to be.

“Why are you here. What do you know about Travis? I mean, why are you even here? He’s my boyfriend. He’s… we’re great together…” I could sense him shaking his head.

“No, Shane. You’re not. I’ve read your blogs. I’ve read everything I can about you. I’ve read Travis’s twitter feed over the past few days, and even became friends with him on Facebook… Shane… listen to me. Okay? You’re in an abusive relationship. And, you have a heart of gold. I know this because I’ve poured over every heartfelt thing you’ve ever written. About your grandmother dying. About how you loved Easter last year because you got to hold bunnies in your arms. About how you’ve been applying to this conference and, well, how you’ve been working so hard. I read Travis’s stuff too. He’s how I found out that you made it in.” I was stunned, but I let him continue.

“I know Travis’s whole deal. I’ve watched him over these past few days too. I’ve watched him and read his posts and everything. He’s not happy you are gonna be far away from him. Hell, he’s not happy you got in at all.”

“Look.” I snapped, unable to keep my heart from pounding and tears escaping. “He loves me. He loves me. I love him. We’re going to get married…” I couldn’t finish, and he knew I couldn’t finish. He just took my hands in his and let me quietly cry.

“A person who’s as beautiful as you are deserves better. A person who’s as sweet-”

“I can’t leave.” I said. I just sat there crying and letting everything pour out. I thought this was what love was. I thought that love had to become really painful before it could become great. Roger told me it didn’t have to be this painful.

When I gathered my things to leave, hours later, Roger insisted that I take down his number into my phone. I didn’t hear a screen reader on his phone, so I guessed that he was sighted. He was. He then offered to drive me home. I accepted, but I was scared of what Travis would say and think and do. He said to call him if I needed to, but I didn’t want to be a burden. He squeezed my hand and said an angel like me would never be a burden. And, just like that, I burst into tears and I didn’t even know why.

Halfway home however, my phone buzzed. VoiceOver told me I had a new email, so I did the needed gestures and double taps to open my email.

Before I could look at the message, my battery died. He let me out after arriving at my house and told me to call him if I needed to. I wouldn’t need to, though, because I had Travis, and he was just some creepy stalker.

When I entered the house, however, the thing that immediately caught my attention was the hum of the desktop in the computer room. Travis was on the computer earlier, I guessed. I went into the computer room and used the keyboard commands to see what was open. Firefox was open. I pressed the commands to jump by headings and other navigational elements and soon realized that the Amtrak page was open. I guessed Travis was planning for a trip in the future. Good, he needed to get away for a while. I closed the tab and stopped when the screen reader started reading the other open tab. It was my comment, the one I left days ago. How did Travis find this? I quickly dashed to the nearest outlet and plugged my phone in, because I had a feeling why that Amtrak page was open. The latest email was an email from Amtrak.

Thanking me for my service cancelation.

“So,” a baritone voice drawled behind me, making me jump. “Looks like you’ll be missing your train, huh?” Travis sneered. “I told you. You gotta be safe. And, you won’t be safe with anybody else, except me.” I heard the computer room door slam shut and Travis stepped towards me. I needed to keep him talking, and somehow hook my headphones in as well so he couldn’t hear what I was doing.

“But, I just. Why the hell would you do that? What? Why? You’re crazy man!”

“Oh Shane. I’m not crazy. I love you. Remember?”

My thumb had never flown so fast over my screen before, but it landed on Roger’s number. Instead of trying to text, I called him, hoping he would pick up. With the iPhone on the charger and Bluetooth ear buds on, I dropped my phone onto the chair. I heard Roger pick up as Travis stepped closer, grabbing me by the shirt.

“Why did you cancel my train? Why?”

“Dishonesty doesn’t need a reason!” Travis growled. “You want to sneak off with some other man and leave me?” He shook me, but I kicked him. He dropped me, and I dashed to the door, but I was tackled from behind. A car honked outside but Travis didn’t hear it. I screamed just as his hand clamped over my mouth. I bit down, hard, causing him to yell and elbow me in the gut. I kicked, but he grabbed me and threw me against the wall. The front door burst open and Roger’s hands grabbed me. At first, I thought they were Travis’s and tried kicking him, but he yelled at me to stop, and we soon sprinted towards the door, with Travis hot on our heels. Passing the threshold, I turned back and kicked out randomly, hoping I’d connect with something. My foot landed near Travis’s knee and he fell down, howling in pain. I tripped trying to hold onto Roger as we dove into his car. I told him my phone was still back there, but he said we could get it later. He revved the engine, spun around, and we shot away from the mirage I thought was love.

We didn’t go back to Roger’s house though. Instead, he called Amtrak to book me a train to the conference and back again. I thanked him endlessly and asked if he knew where I could get a new phone. He said he would mail one to me at the conference.

I was amazed Amtrak still had seats open, but I guess luck was on my side. Roger pulled up and walked with me to the train. I then explained, stupidly, that I didn’t have any clothes. He said he would take care of it while I was on the train. Clothes would be waiting for me at the hotel. I tried to convince him UPS doesn’t work like that, but he shushed me. I felt so guilty for even accepting his gifts, but he seemed determined to help me. To show me a better world, I guessed.

Before I stepped onto the train I turned to Roger, intending to say bye for now, but instead, I asked why he helped me.

“Hmm.” He mused. “I guess it’s because I knew you were a beautiful person. When I figured out how Travis was treating you, I wanted to show you that you don’t need someone like Travis to be the person you deserve to be.” With that, he kissed me goodbye… for now.

This is my first attempt at erotica. The public domain is a wonderful resource, and I wanted to make this inclusive, very lighthearted, and I also wanted to see if I could rhyme. There’s a bigger reason this was created though. in a way, this is a tribute to Chuck Tingle because, well, I just love everything about this person! Chucks whole deal is proving that love is real. At the time I write this, in early 2024, book bans are surging in my home country, the US. Every kind of LGBT+ and literature featuring racialized people is being banned and challenged. Libraries are being defunded in several states, and, well, I’m learning that a whole lot of people are afraid of love, in all its forms.

This isn’t written like Chuck Tingle, but through Chuck’s stories, Chuck proves every day that love is, in fact, real. This is my thank you to his work and an attempt to share the same sentiment. Love is real, and love can do so much more than you initially believed because love is timeless.

If you enjoyed this work, feel free to share it since it’s in the public domain as well. Buy it for someone, buy it for someone in the Global South, a region that doesn’t have a lot of access to libraries.

As usual, if you like my work, visit my website to learn how to fund other work I do. https://robertkingett.com

How Snow White’s needs made seven dwarfs very happy instead of banning books.

By Robert Kingett.

There once was a Trans princess named Snow White. Snow White was a lonely Trans woman who was desperate for a fuck, so she went into the woods to try and find some luck. She’d almost given up until she saw some chimney smoke. She followed it to a cottage, where she thought she’d have a poke.

She flopped onto the couch. She’d just removed her pants, when seven dwarfs came marching in with a merry song and dance. Snow White stood there speechless. She thought she was in heaven. She originally wanted one good shag, but now she could have seven!

Straight away she took command. “My ass needs a lick!” When one dwarf came forward, she said, “You’d better drop your pick.” Down he went, onto all fours, before asking, “How do I lick that?” Snow White replied, “Dopy, just pretend your tongue is a baseball bat!”

The next dwarf started blushing. “Mrs.? Do we have to do it right here?” She answered with hot fury, “Don’t be bashful. I made myself very clear.” Eagerly, he whipped it out to prove he was no fool. Snow White gave a big “High hoe!” as she wildly rode his tool.

Now one dwarf wasn’t smiling because he hadn’t had a sniff. Due to his impatience, he couldn’t raise a stiff. “Relax, you grumpy bastard.” Snow White said, and he did as he was told. As soon as he was hard enough he shot a gigantic load.

The next dwarf got a blowjob and she took him quite easily, but he sneezed while he came so she called him Sneezy. With three dwarfs left, she pointed to one and said, “You next! I want your hairy knob!” But no sooner had he entered her, he fell asleep on the job. “Wake up!” she yelled. She wanted more from him. He awoke with such excitement, the orgasm left him slim.

The next dwarf rammed his dick up her ass so well it was red raw. Aghast, she pondered, “Maybe that should be against the law!” He made poor Snow White tremble; he was so big and thick. She was star struck when she said, “No wonder you’re happy, you have a giant dick.”

With one dwarf still remaining, and feeling a little sore, she said, “You’ll have to use your tongue; my hole can’t take it anymore.” He put his tongue to work, where she just had so much cock. Because he made her all better, she decided to name him Doc.

Snow White was happy but she couldn’t do much with a flooded quim, so she squatted over a cup, smiled, and filled it to the brim. And so ends the story of how the dwarfs got their names, by satisfying Snow White playing her fun little games.

There’s one more mystery we have to solve. What happened to the cup? Well, Snow White told the queen it was a new beauty potion she made up.

You know those old high school stories that you just find when you’re cleaning out your old backpack that you had from middle school, with a giant hole in the bottom because your dog chewed into the bag, trying to get some cookies in there?

Too specific? Okay, maybe it was just me.

This story was written all the way back in high school. I don’t know what I wanted to say with it, really, as I was working through some deep internalized homophobia back then.

I also completely forgot what the assignment was supposed to be about. I remember we were reading Edgar Allen Poe, and the assignment was to write a story based off our favorite one.

It’s deeply ironic because we write in very different genres. Still, this was based off a work that’s long been in the public domain.

I’ve made a conscious decision to leave homophobic language and homophobic ideas intact. I think it’s good that fans of mine get to see how I’ve grown as a writer and as a person. I still don’t understand what I wanted to say with this story, but I hope you enjoy it regardless.

To see my future work, visit my website. You can find my work at https://robertkingett.com

Tall Revenge

I watched him kill me. That was not the bad thing, the fact that he had killed me. What the bad thing was, I knew what was coming. For seven days and seven nights I watched that fiend poke his head into my door slowly as if he were some no-good teenager looking to pull some prank. Do not think I did not notice, because I did. I knew exactly what he was doing the week before he killed me as well, when that ditz was being ever so kind to me. I knew that pathetic soul was going to kill me for my artifacts. I had collected many treasures over the years. They were my wealth and my most prized items. I vowed even before the wash out planned his attack to fight for my treasures, alive or dead. I was rich and I did not care. The low life could have taken my clothes and I would just laugh in his face. I didn’t need anything else.