Sci-Fi Fantasy Romance, LGBTQ+
Date Published: May 15, 2026
Board the Quiet Kitty Waveship and travel with Brant Sel, a Sh’Bahkyr Tygyr
and his crew: Bevel-leveB, a Medusoid Jenari with a sentient cock, and Willa,
a Sprite from the wounded planet Sparkle.
Brought together by fate, these three have common goals — to rescue and
gather their lost peoples so they can take down the corrupt, brutal
Corporation, run by the most evil beings in the three Galaxies… Humans.
Publisher’s Note: This box setcontains the previously released Quiet Kitty
novellas Under the Cat’s Paw, Dancing with the Devil, Holiday Dreams, Naked
Secrets, and Cat Scratch Fever.
Excerpt from Under the Cat’s Paw
The door opened and the sensor controlled walkway winked out beneath her
weighted feet. Almost sorry to reach her destination — she so rarely had a
chance to see daylight — Willa plodded heavily into the interview room, her
small ankles locked into a pair of slaver’s cuffs. Head down, neck bowed, she
flicked her eyes about in quick, furtive forays, taking in the room’s sparse
furnishings: a six foot long cushioned slab and a straight-backed, armless
chair. Noting the absence of tweezers, whips, electronic probes and other
sadistic devices with a thankful sigh and a renewed sense of hope, she dared
to sneak a quick glance at the room’s other occupant, determined to somehow
influence him to take her with him. A harsh, swift breath lifted her full
breasts and set her covering plumes to fluttering.
Before her stood a grey-skinned bi-pedal Being lounging at ease, his long
slender hands resting on the upper horizontal bar of a tall-backed chair. He
faced her, his nude body — tall, slim and muscular — displaying a total lack
of self-consciousness. A thick mop of unruly platinum hair waved in the brush
of an unseen — and unfelt — breeze, falling over his forehead to obscure his
sightless silver eyes. His mouth hung open, allowing a nineteen-centimeter
tongue, coated with cilia, to protrude slightly.
She identified the Being as a Jenari. A member of a race powerful enough to
stand up to the Corporation, his kind usually did not travel in Corporate
Space. Jenari rarely mingled with other races, remaining a mystery rarely seen
among the Corporation’s citizenry. Because of this much speculation abounded
regarding their peculiar genetic makeup.
She had heard enough about the genetically blind, Medusoid race to know the
Jenari’s tongues served as their true “eyes.” With their tongues, they
“tasted” the air, able to sense their environment more accurately than could
most sighted persons.
Currently, the naked alien appeared nonchalant and relaxed. His posture
broadcast his sense of control, his power over her in this private chamber,
obviously unaware how easily that privacy — his privacy — had been breached.
The so-called secure interrogation cubicle was anything but, her master having
ordered it wired for video and sound, rendering it accessible and easily
monitored by him.
The Jenari cocked his head toward her now, giving the impression of eyeing her
askance, locating her so accurately, she almost doubted his sightlessness.
“Sso… you are Willa. Your masster tellss me he hass had you trained ass a
SSexengineer… capable of keeping a Dinyar-classs Wavesship and a medium
number of crew in tip-top orgassmic condition.”
The male’s sibilant words slid from his lips. He framed his sentences oddly,
their cadence broken and rendered choppy by the repeated extrusion of his
tongue. The cilia laden appendage darted out between every several words,
sipping the air in her direction.
“You look much too fragile for ssuch sstrenuous work. A female of your
delicassy sshould be cossseted and cared for… your cunt well conditioned
with frequent usse… your ssweet cream churned with a long thick sspoon…”
Willa felt the Jenari’s thick voice, his dulcet tones, flowing over her,
calming her jangling nerves. Her pussy, long denied any easing, dewed in
response to the pictures his words painted. A strong compulsion beat at her,
making her want nothing so much as to loll at his feet in adoration.
Strange, how clear his words are, given that he speaks using that crowded
appendage… Oh, Drasarka — not so strange when he is attempting to
mind-thrall me!
“Sparkle!”
With a negating shake of her head and an inward surge of disgust at the
endless power-games of males, she threw up her mind blocks, easily winning
free of the subliminal influence. Angered beyond thinking, she verbally
blasted the alien, incensed he would try such a trick on her. “Your mind speak
will not work on me, Jenari.”
She tossed her head, meeting his renewed mental challenge with a sneer. “I am
a Sprite. I cannot be compelled by your voice, nor can your honeyed words
thrall me.”
The alien’s wide mouth spread in a practised movement that aped a smile. “You
are a fressh ssassy baggage! I can ssee why your masster ssayss you invite
beatingss, sslave!” His lips closed in a thin line, concealing his tongue.
She cringed, damning her mouth and her loss of self-control. By Sparkle! When
would she learn to keep her comments to herself? What would she do if her
unruly anger lost her this chance of escape?
It had taken too long to convince her master she truly wished to serve his
plans by spying for him. She had spent the long, grueling years learning about
ship propulsion units, drive flux capacitors and other diverse technical
entities for just such a chance as this: escape. During that time, she’d
swallowed her gorge and taken the physical abuse and so-called sexual
cruelties Lord Avron had doled out, never letting on how his milder tortures
ignited her carnal hungers. She’d only slipped up once, but that lapse had
proven costly.
Avron had somehow learned she needed his release — any partner’s release —
inside her, needed the life-giving fluid of come washing the walls of her sex
in order to flourish and grow a healthy set of pinions and fronds. Since that
time, he’d kept her at the minimum edge of physical and psionic sexual
starvation, taking pleasure in gauging what lengths she would go to, the
degradations she would endure in order to receive a few drops of come.
Years of maneuvering, of posturing and subterfuge had paid off. Lately, unrest
and political furor had escalated within the Corporation. Due to financial
setbacks and personal miscalculations, Lord Avron had lost respect among his
peers. The other Corporation Lords, like canker-phish — more deadly than the
great blalor-sharks of Trofu that devoured their own young — hovered about,
sniffing around his weakness, waiting for his failure. Her master had been
forced to regroup, jettisoning some of his plans for advancement just to
maintain his present lofty position among the powerful despots.
Unwilling to go outside his private power base to obtain help and whatever
information he sought, it had been easy to convince him of her willingness to
win the position as Sexengineer aboard the Quiet Kitty Waveship and garner
information from its crew to transmit back to him. Why he had become obsessed
with this vessel, she neither knew nor cared. All that concerned her lately
was finding her scattered people. Sparkle called for her and its other
children, its summons an imperative she could not ignore. Time was fast
running out for her. If she messed this interview up, she knew Avron would
kill her.
Belly roiling with resentment, she averted her face to hide her grimace and
abased herself before the alien — probably her last chance at freedom. “I
offer apologies to you, Gentle-Being. I beg you to take no offence.”
“Be at easse, Ssprite. I tesst all who sseek to sserve aboard my vesssel. No
one sso eassily controlled iss welcomed aboard my Quiet Kitty. Let uss begin
anew…”
One long arm extended palm up, in the manner of greeting peculiar to her
slavers, the alien stepped from behind the chair, unerringly approaching
Willa. “I am Bevel, masster of the Quiet Kitty Waveship.”
She choked, eyes riveted in desperate immediate hunger to his newly revealed
sex. Obviously, her information loop had seriously failed to include some
pertinent data…
Standing before her, hands extended, awaiting her acknowledgement of his
greeting, the alien was an impressive sight. Or rather, the impressive sight
was his more than ten inch penis swaying lazily between his grey muscular
thighs. A darker grey than the rest of his skin, the Medusoid cock undulated
back and forth, its serpent-like moves hypnotic, compelling, drawing her
fascinated gaze.
A funny thing happened on the way to the grave… In 2006, Cammy was diagnosed
with Pulmonary Sarcoidosis and given two weeks to live. She promptly
discharged herself AMA — Against Medical Advice — since, as she stubbornly
informed her doctors, she could die at home far more comfortably than at the
hospital. But then… she got an idea for a new story. Then another, and
another…
Fifteen years and dozens of fantastic tales later, Cammy passed quietly in her
sleep, at home, as was her wish. We miss her. Her work lives on, and we hold
her in our hearts. Cammy decided many years ago that upon her passing, she
wished to donate her royalties to The Quiet Kitty fund, which helps authors
with emergency medical expenses. We do, to keep her in our hearts and minds.
Find Camille’s other works at Changeling Press
