A Change of Plans is a kinky, t4t, sapphic fiction book(‽‽) that I’m writing. I post new chapters every Thursday.
Valerie is a trans woman in her late twenties; her family is unaccepting of her transition, her abusive partner left her suddenly a few months ago, and her job is about to fire her. Dana, also trans, is older (if not necessarily wiser), but managed to turn a lucky career in tech into independent wealth. She’s had her eye on Valerie for a while now, and can’t escape her fantasies of acquiring the girl as her pet.
Ready to read? Start at the prologue , or jump to the latest chapter.
These are the “good” things the story contains, though of course if you find these to be problematic, you might want to find something else to read.
(As of right now, October 9th, most of these are mere promises of what’s to come.)
These are elements that are explicitly present as part of the characters' background and/or the context of the story. I try to approach these topics seriously, and they aren’t played for laughs or for sexual prurience. I absolutely welcome feedback about how sensitively I’m approaching them, either positive or negative.
I love feedback. Tell me what you like, or what you didn’t like; what you found moving, or what you found boring and hacky. Or tell me if you find typos. There are a lot of ways to contact me:
@ me on blue sky @quiet.ink“No plan survives first contact with the enemy.” Dana wasn’t sure whether the predator-prey connection she had with Valerie counted as the girl being her “enemy-” but she supposed it must, because her plan had just fallen apart completely.
The sliding glass door was easy for Dana to shim open; the simple slide lock was a polite suggestion of “do not enter” rather than any kind of real security. The empty wine glass perched halfway off the edge of a side table took her by surprise, however. She was nervous and less graceful than she knew she could be, and it was the slightest bump against the table that left her frozen in terror as the glass smashed to bits on the apartment’s polished concrete floor. She held her breath, expecting to see the bedroom light flick on- to see her cue to turn and run.
“Oat milk mocha,” Dana ordered tersely across the counter. She’d been coming to this café for a few weeks now, and she took her usual place next to the window. She the only customer this morning, partly due to how expensive and yet poor quality the coffee was, but mostly because she had arrived at open, while the sun still crawled its way up from the horizon.
Valerie sobbed behind the wheel as she drove home down the darkened highway. The sun had already set despite the long summer hours- she had worked late, again, and it hadn’t been a good day even before that. She felt scared, and, worse- hopeless.
The last few knots were always the hardest, pulling the ropes holding her to the back of the chair tight around her own chest.