Ideas for Consideration (M for F, sci-fi and fantasy)

[IrishWolf]

If any of the listed plots interest you, send me a PM and we can brainstorm ideas for where to take the story


War Bride

I’ve been enjoying The Vixen War Bride Series by Thomas Doscher. Its a fun series, with some interesting twists, honestly can get rather deep in places and I can’t wait for book six, as in my option, we don’t have enough of this universe.

So a short synopsis of the series;
Humanity has found out they are not alone in the universe, when they get attacked by aliens who look like fox nekos with funny colored hair. While humanity might not have laserguns like the aliens, they do win the war and set about occupying the alien homeworld. A US Army Ranger captain is assigned a village to keep an eye on and a refueling base to operate. When he arrives on scene, due to poor translations and cultural misunderstandings, he ends up marrying the local high priestess by accident. However this turns out to be an important stepping stone to convincing the locals that humans aren’t evil space monsters who will torture them to death for fun.



I’m thinking running an RP with the same sort of idea would be fun. Maybe instead of accidentally marrying a local, the aliens have a more feudal understanding of war and are expecting the important people (officers) of the victorious human armies to either marry or take the daughters of the defeated as concubines and until they do, the war really isn’t over.

Or maybe the war bride isn’t from a defeated foe but is from an alien race that humanity has saved from a third species. The local’s customs and concepts of honor demand that they must give the human leader a gift to match the importance of his deeds, a daughter from the ruling family. Not as a wife but more then a slave and it will be a grave insult if he doesn’t accept her (and use his gift appropriately).

Could be that when their home becomes a battlefield, a tribe of the local and far more primitive aliens tries to make an alliance with one side. Part of their efforts includes giving the noble (a human officer) one of their women as a bribe/pledge.


Anyway this goes, the plot needs a lot more brainstorming, so if you're interested, send me a PM.

Oh and do read The Vixen War Bride Series, it's honestly really good.

[IrishWolf]

Government Issue Vixen

Inspiration NSFW

July 1948, Crisis in Berlin.

In response to the introduction of the new Deutsche Mark, in an effort to economically stabilize Germany by the Western Allies, the Soviet Union has blockaded West Berlin. President Truman, refusing to either abandon the city or have the American Army shoot their way in, has ordered an airlift to supply the city with the food and coal. Experts have concluded that the city requires 4,000 tons of supplies daily but in the near month the airlift has been active, the planes have only delivered 1,000 tons daily. The situation must be improved.

Major General William Tunner of the Military Air Transport Service, famed for his command of The Hump, has been dispatched to Wiesbaden to take command of the airlift. However there are members of the United States Government, who fear that the airlift wont work or that even if Tunner can get 4,000 tons delivered daily, the city will need much more come winter. These individuals begin looking into the military’s secret projects, to see if there isn’t something that can help.

And there may just be.

Project Market was in the works, if under funded well before the outbreak of World War Two. One of the United State’s greatest defenses, the vast distances of the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, has also proven to be problematic in projecting power into Europe and Asia. While ships and airplanes are plentiful, such mundane methods make for very long supply chains. What the Army wanted was a way to move men, supplies and vehicles, far more quickly from bases in the homeland to the battlefields across the sea. To that end they have been supporting (if barely) the efforts of Doctor Cecil Strickland, who claims to be close to cracking the secrets of teleportation.

To date his greatest supposed success is moving a brick from one side of his lab to the other.

When pressed if his technique was ready for a larger test, Doctor Strickland claims it is. With the current ongoing crisis, there is no time for slow and ethical escalation in testing. The government needs to know if they can use the good Doctor’s machines to move men and trucks or men and tanks, now. Doctor Strickland has begged for at least three tests however. Not that he is worried that the machines are safe for the humans and equipment but he wants to make sure they work over longer and longer distances.

The government has agreed but it must be done quickly. Orders have been dispatched down the chain of command until they reach Staff Sergeant Bill Hawkins, commander of Iron Knight, a M4A3(76) Sherman Tank, 67th Tank Battalion. He is ordered to bring his tank to the test grounds with a full crew and full load of ammunition, fuel, spare parts and food. Upon arriving, his assistant driver fell ill and was allowed to sit out as the tank was driven onto a steel pad, surrounded by electrical equipment. A similar pad was set up barely a hundred yards away.

Under the supervision of Doctor Strickland and several Army officers and government types, the equipment was powered up. There was a flash and the tank disappeared. All eyes went to the second pad but Iron Knight and its crew were never seen again.

At least on Earth.

-------------------

The Slaisan Republic is reeling with shock. For decades it was believed the line of fortifications along the frontier with the Empire of Azon, would keep them safe from being invaded. But the Lizards have changed the way a war is fought. Although the motor car is known in the Republic, their Army has largely ignored any possibilities such a vehicle might possess as a weapon of war, preferring to keep their cavalry mounted on feathered theropods. However the reptilian minds of the Empire have embraced the motor car, producing a range of vehicles armored to resist small arms fire and mounting heavy machine guns, along with armored trucks, to move their infantry in support of the armored cars.

Not only were the Imperial forces able to catch the Republic off guard but nearly won the war in a matter of days with their new tactics. Their Vulpen opponents were barely able to make some counter moves in time to keep the capital out of Imperial hands.

War rages across the north provinces, as Republican army groups try to pin down Imperial units and lift the sieges of their frontier forts. Motorized Imperial regiments rampage, not only across the frontlines but in flanking maneuvers or plunging deep into unprotected territory. The Slaisan cavalry, the only forces able to match the maneuverability of the armored cars, has been decimated. Their lack of heavy weapons has left them unable to match the Lizards in combat and suffering heavy losses without inflicting much on the enemy. Even now, the Republic scrambles to form a Corps of Armored Cars to counter the Lizards.

However a new disturbing report has come in from the south. Civilians in a farming town have seen some new Lizard device, thankfully alone. Strangely the vehicle is said to be painted green, rather than the Imperial red and black. And that's not where the strangeness ends, according to the witnesses, it has no wheels but moves on a pair of belts made of metal plates and it has the cannon off a battleship. The crew of the vehicle has been seen but only from a distance. It is said they have flat faces, strangely colored and no tails.

While most of the Army high command has written these reports off as some local farmers getting drunk on homemade booze, a few have taken it more seriously. At least enough to dispatch a cavalry Lieutenant and the shattered remains of her company to investigate. If anything, it will be good to get them off the front line to reorganize. 

[IrishWolf]

A few ideas my thoughts have drifted to lately. If any idea interests you, send me a pm and we can brainstorm.

To Wake The Sleeping King (fantasy high or low)

To say it was the end of days, would have been overly dramatic, although it was surely the end of the Kingdom of Welum. Whispers of doom had come for years, tales told of conquering armies to the east but they had never alarmed the nobles of the land. But now the enemy is here, flowing over the border. The King’s own brother is dead and the royal army, along with every noble’s retinue the marshal could find, has been broken. The cream of the nobility was wiped out or dragged into captivity. It will only be days before the host will reach the gates of the capital and lay siege to the city.

There is no hope.

The priests and priestesses pray in their temples, as the remaining knights and man-at-arms gather the people, their livestock and stores behind the walls, prepared to resist. Maybe their allies in the neighboring kingdoms will finally ride to their aid. Alone, the Loremaster pours over ancient scrolls and runic inscriptions. Even in these final hours, some members of the clergy find the time to mock the mage, who can barely cast a spell of light, which is more than most of those few still learning magic, can do. Although it should be noted, no miracle of the Gods has appeared to save them.

But salvation may yet be found in those crumbling tomes.

In the days of old, before the coming of the Gods and the age of Miracles, when magic was strong in the world and the fathers of men worshiped their own ancestors or pagan spirits, great kings were laid in the Barrows, when life left them. They were entombed before an alter, in their armor, with weapons in their hands and treasures at their feet. The Mages of yore, would incant long spells, laying curses for those who might plunder the graves and more importantly, weaving their magic, so that the promise each king made, to return when his people most needed him, could be fulfilled.

In the long passages, deep underground, around the chamber of the King, would rest his retainers and household, when they too passed into the Halls of the Dead. Each would be wrapped in sorcery, as they were laid in the grave, so that they could answer their King’s call, should he be awoken again and be in need of warriors. While it might not be an army of the dead, a core of fighting men, who could not be killed, would make an army invincible. 

As time turned and magic began to fade, this art was lost and the later barrows were simple graves. Yet the magic laid on the tombs of the first Kings of Welum, was strong still. When the Loremaster raced to the King’s bedchamber and summoned his council in the middle of the night, he was scoffed at by the Priests. If this magic was so strong, why had not the Kings of old arisen when the country was first invaded? But the old mage had an answer. When the Gods arrived, the old rites had stopped and the attention of the sleeping Kings had been drawn away from the mortal world.

They would need to perform a new rite, one that was as old as the Barrows themselves and make sacrifices, to awaken the great warrior kings of old. And not just any sacrifice would do, not just treasures and animals but it would have to be a human sacrifice. At least one woman of noble blood or better still, royal blood and her handmaidens, their blood to wake him, their bodies to keep him entertained while in the flesh and to go with him into the Halls of the Dead, when the foe was broken.

This would be the last chance for the Kingdom of Welum, no matter how slim.




I don't have all the details set in stone and I would love some input. I am thinking that the setting for the story would be something along the lines of late medieval, knights in plate armor, stone castles, the whole classic fantasy thing, with the King and warriors being more heavily inspired by Anglo-saxons and the Vikings. The invaders could be other humans or a more high fantasy enemy, like orcs or trolls.

After long arguments, the modern day king agrees to the Loremaster’s plan and orders that a young noble lady or possibly his own niece/daughter to be taken into the Barrows, along with a few common serving women and sacrificed on an altar, to wake a dead king. The Loremaster was right about the magic and the rite doesn’t kill the girls (at least not yet) but bring a King to life, to lead his warriors and the remaining knights and nobles of Welum to victory, however long that might take.

However the young women are also the Achilles Heel for the returned dead. They are a power source for the reanimated warriors and need to stay close, close enough that they will be within bowshot on the battlefield of the enemy..

Or it could be a foreign lady, some noble household driven from their lands before the enemy horde and thought to take shelter in Welum. Possibly a non-human noble.



Indentured (sci-fi)

New colonies on far flung worlds always need more labor and population, then normally come along on the voyage. A good portion of this problem is the cost involved and the fact that new settlers often have to invest heavily into the venture. Of course this cost also comes with large land grants, mining and other extraction rights and basically the promise of becoming a semi-formal landed gentry. Founders and first wave settlers often are granted special privileges, which are to be passed down the generations. 

However more then one colony has failed because it never got a self sustaining population.

Many colonies have adapted an old strategy to get more people on the planet. Indentured servitude. A way for the poor citizens of heavily populated core words to escape the slums and meaningless jobs they toil at. The poor and destitute sign contracts with ships bound for the colonies, normally supply runs after the first wave establishes themselves, selling themselves for the piece of the costly passage, along with expense in housing, feeding and clothing them once they reach a colony. These contracts (and the indentured) are then sold to colonists, who paid their way. This often leaves the indentured working for years before they are freed from the restraints of their contract.

There are also rumors, terrible rumors, that some core worlds and the more built up colonies will sentence minor criminals to deportation and indenture on the far edge of settled space. There are also unsettling rumors that the farther from the core worlds you go, the more likely the system of indenture is abused and those that have sold themselves are basically used as slaves for the rest of their lives.


My plan was to play a human male first wave/founder colonist with my partner playing a female indentured (or more then one), although they don't have to be human.



Mistaken for a Star God (sci-fi and fantasy)

Everyone knew that war was coming.

The harvest last year had been bad. The God’s displeasure had seen little rainfall and crops wither in the summer heat. Traders brought news of famine and disease. Luckily, the King and the priests were wise men and the temple granaries had been full, has had been the King’s storerooms. The winter had been cold and bitter but the people had been fed throughout. There was still grain left, for the fields to be planted and to see the people to the first harvests. The spring was even looking good, the weather seemed to be warm and wet enough to restore the soil, without rotting the seeds.

However, just because the people of Kerkiae had survived, did not mean the other city states had been so well off. Indeed, there were whispered tales of starvation in nearby kingdoms. With grain worth more than gold, the King had readied his household warriors and summoned his retainers to defend the city. No doubt desperate neighbors would try to force their way in and strip the great city of all it’s wealth, enslaving the people to work their own fields or selling them to buy foreign foodstuffs.

What the King had not expected, was that three rival cities, would ally against him. Even now, their armies mustered. It would only be a matter of time, before they were besieged. There was no hope that he could defeat them in the field, not if they combined. Nore could he face them one at a time or he would find Kerkiae overrun while the army was away. The King prayed. The Priests prayed. The people made weapons and tried their farming and merchant hands at warriors work. News came that the armies marched.

Then a chariot of the gods, fell from the sky.

Days would pass, the priests debating in their temples. Some said this was a God of War, come to oversee the approaching battle. Others were sure this was the arrival of an avatar of a God or perhaps one of the immortal champions, to be swayed to one side or another. A few claimed that this was a God of their enemies. On the fifth morning, with the news that the enemy armies were barely a day’s march away, the King decreed that the Priests would leave the city and head up into the hills, to where the chariot had smote the ground. They would perform the rites and make the sacrifices. If they could not get this divine personage on their side, then at least they might persuade them to be impartial in judging the battle.

-------------

Lieutenant Scott Hope, of the Stellar Confederation Colonial Marine Corps, was not having a good week. While his batallon was enroute for deployment, the convoy had been attacked. Enemy frigates, light cruisers and even a goddamn battlecruiser, ripped their escorts apart and tore into the transports. He barely made it out alive. The memories come back in flashes. The sensation of the ship shuddering as it was raked with particle beams. The smell of scorched metal and burning electronics. Panicked marines and sailors surging around him. The horror of finding empty escape pod bays. The last drop shuttle. The explosion damaging the engines and sending the shuttle hurtling away, end over end. The pain as he was bounced around the cabin as the shuttle hit atmosphere and then, blessed darkness.

He woke up in the crashed shuttle, legs broken, ribs cracked and bruised, a pounding headache. He is pretty sure he got a concussion. Luckily for him, the shuttle had a med kit, the kind you were supposed to use on injured troops being evacuated. The trouble was, it wasn’t on the flight deck but back in the troop compartment. He had been forced to crawl, dragging his legs, all the way back. Thankfully, he only passed out twice, before he reached the cabinet marked with the age old symbol of a red cross.

The medical pads, with their nanomachines and drugs were a godsend but it still took a few days before he could walk again. Thankfully, once he could, the Lieutenant was able to return to the flight deck and launch the handful of string-of-pearls satellites the shuttle had. They didn’t do much, designed for communication primarily but they did pick up an escape pod to the north of where he had crashed landed. It was unsettling that he couldn’t get anyone to answer his comm calls. But he needed to get to that pod, unlike the shuttle, it would have an emergency rescue beacon. When the fleet did finally come looking for them, he wanted to be found.

Although there was a new problem.

As he was making his last attempt to call the pod, natives had shown up. Primitive looking, they had begun some sort of ritual outside the shuttle. Maybe they had thought the shuttle was some sort of demon or dragon. He wanted to shoo them away but regulations meant he couldn’t interact with such a low tech species. He’d just have to wait until they went away. The only good thing out of this setback, was the translator program on the shuttle systems, was picking up a lot of words. He might be able to talk to them, if the situation got desperate enough.

Scott watched with amusement as the natives set up some sort of altar, dancing around it and prostrating themselves before it. He arched an eyebrow as they piled up pottery before the rear ramp, it looked like sealed jars and jugs of something. He was surprised when they started slaughtering some local animals over the altar and leaving cuts of meats with the pottery. A sickening feeling hit his stomach, when they brought forward what looked like a female. If she had been human, from her sluggish movements and wondering eyes, he’d have said she was drugged or in a trance.

Grabbing a combat helmet and jamming it on his head, he ran, each time his feet hit the deck, pain lanced up his body. The last thing he had seen on the screen, was the natives getting the female to kneel down before the altar, baring her throat. One of the others picking up a stone knife. The same one they had used to cut the throats of the animals.

Screw the regs.




So, long story short, I am looking to write a story about a human marine being mistaken for a god or other divine being by aliens that are roughly at the bronze age. Trying to get him on their side in a coming war, they are making offerings, including a female sacrifice. She could be an expensive and tell trained slave girl or a noble’s daughter or a priestess. He manages to stop them from killing her but she is still given to him as a gift.




A New Partner (Anthro, sci-fi, Space Western)

Policing colonial worlds, on the frontier of human expansion has always been difficult. As settlers struggle to conquer their new world, they rarely have the spare population to form large, well trained and well equipped police forces. They also rarely have the funds for such a force, both to pay the officers and to afford their gear. More civilized worlds, can rarely afford to send away their law officers, as they struggle to maintain control. The best core worlds can do for fledgling colonies, is train limited number of marshals and send them along, to provide at least some sort of law enforcement, beyond the main city. Which is better then nothing, for most colonies.

Vathiea Prime teems with life, from its warm tropical seas to the lush, primordial jungles, covering most of the dry land. Like the rainforests of South America, the plants and animals found there, are a pharmaceutical goldmine. The planet also has untold narcotics to be found or offers the perfect place to grow or improve those mankind has known since before the discovery of space flight. Their new world has proved to be boon and bane of the colonies there.

Several colonists have already struck it rich from the wealth of the jungles but the world has attracted the attention of several pirate groups, resulting in raids on outlying settlements and plantations, as well as interplanetary gangs, setting up their own illegal grow operations and paying often violent smugglers, to ship their product off world. As if the large (and small) predators found all across Vathiea weren't bad enough, human ones are now preying on the settlers.

Of the twenty marshals sent to help protect the colony, ten have been killed, either by native carnivores or criminals and other three have been injured bad enough, that they may never return to duty. The remaining seven have not escaped harm but have been able to return to duty. The colonial government has been screaming for more help, more marshals, police, a military base, anything but there has been no official response from the governments of the core worlds or even neighboring colonies. However, there has been one gift they have accepted and are considering an offer from a conglomerate of pharmaceutical companies.

Both to gain good publicity and to hopefully entice the government of Vathiea Prime into accepting a private security force on their world, Wonder Gold and Green Pharmaceuticals has placed an order for and shipped to the colony, a number of custom canine Anthromorphs, to be partner with the remaining marshals and what few police are found on the colony. On the worlds, where their creation is legal, such beings, the combination of animal and human DNA, are normally used as pets, companions or for labor. However, these models were created with law enforcement in mind and where programed with such skills in their creation. Although it should be said, there as been some miscommunication between the conglomerate and the genelabs. It should be noted, that the skills and training, the labs used to make the Anthros, were taken from more civilized, core worlds, not the experiences found on wild frontier worlds. Nor were the Techs in charge of the creation of the Anthros, overly convinced they were for legitimate police work, thinking it was more likely for show or a fetish, there for used a great deal from the company's companion model Anthro.

One quirk of the Anthros, is that they imprint or bond with the first human they see. This is immensely useful for those made as pets or companions but has posed an interesting challenge, in getting them to Vathiea Prime, without them imprinting on the wrong human. To solve this, they have been kept in isolation since the moment they were grown, given only verbal commands, as their skills were tested, to ensure quality. In order to send them, the Anthros were seal into modified shipping crates, for the three week journey, which contained a bed, food, water and a waste receptacle.

So I am looking to play as a male human marshal, who’s a little out of the loop, when he is recalled to the capital of Vathiea Prime and informed he is being given a partner. He is then led to a shipping container and told to open it, in which he finds a female canine Anthro, who has the skills and training of a police officer but who might just have more than just little companion Anthro in her.

The Marshal

Possible Anthro

These inspired my idea but don't feel constrained by them

One NSFW
Two NSFW
Three NSFW
Four NSFW
Five NSFW
Six NSFW
Seven NSFW

[IrishWolf]

Mercy

Inspired by this (nsfw)

The year 21XX, some of the world’s most pressing problems have been solved by a combination of advancing robotics, space-based solar power collecting and the invention of bio-printing. Hunger has largely been eliminated by vending style printing machines, which can create various vegetables, grains, fruits and some of the more expensive one, meats and alcohol using reserves of base chemicals. Of course there is still a thriving market for organic food, as the synthetic ones don’t really taste quite right and the quality isn’t as good. But no one needs to go hungry, with how cheap the synthetic food can be.

The research into bio-printing meat, combined with machine-mind interfacing technology, has led to a new product, Constructs. Depending on the model, most Constructs are bipedal chimeras, mixing human and animal traits, which can be physically customized within some limits and implanted with personality constructs. Many of these Constructs are used as living mascots, caretakers for the elderly or impaired and as well pet-like companions, with life spans of upwards to twenty years, give or take.

However there is a darker side to this advance in technology. Constructs are not legally people or even animals. They are property. It's not against any law to abuse one in any way or even kill them. This has led to an unfortunate rise in people printing Constructs as one night companions to satisfy urges. It's even more unfortunate that some companies have tailored their machines towards this trend, with a list of personalities perfect for more carnal desires. It’s not unusual to see broken, battered bodies tossed in the trash the morning after to be collected by drones.

The trash is brought to what are called biomass reactors. There the trash is sorted and sent to different parts of the facility to be reduced down to component chemicals for bio-printers. Every now and then the body of a construct pet comes through. The workers can tell which ones were mascots or caretakers or pets, versus the disposable ones, the latter tending to be beaten, bruised and bloody, their shorts lives mostly violence with a little pleasure. The former very rarely end up in the trash. Many get buried or cremated like humans do, although there is a growing trend to even have human remains sent to the biomass reactors. However they don’t get sent in with the trash but through funeral companies, with forms and ceremonies.

One day a drone brings in a collection bin for one of the workers to go through and there on top is a construct. The poor little mouse girl has had it rough; swollen eye, bloody nose, missing teeth, her back shredded. Somehow she’s still alive and worse, she’s still conscious. She knows where she’s ended up. She understands what is about to happen to her. She’s going to be tossed into the reactor alive. Maybe it will be a quick death, maybe she’ll know for hours that she’s slowly melting down. Maybe she won't feel a thing, maybe she’ll feel everything.

She doesn’t struggle when he picks her up, she can’t, it’s not allowed in her programming. She does however beg. Not to be allowed to live, she knows she was only ever disposable. No her pleas and offers of oral or to fuck her anyway he wants, are only for him to snap her neck before she goes in.


----------------------------------------------------------


I can see this plot going a few different ways.

This could be a one shot, where the worker at a biomass reactor does use her, maybe just over break or maybe over the course of the work day, before granting her wish and snapping her neck before putting her into the reactor.

Or maybe the worker was moved by her plight and couldn't end the Construct's life. Instead he takes her home with him, opening up a couple of paths.

A short story, disposable Constructs like her, were never designed to live that long. She might only get days or weeks before her body starts to fail. But that's a lot longer than she ever expected to survive for and in the end, he might just have to face the same choice again, end her suffering or let her linger in pain.

A long term story, the "disposable" Constructs are no different then the pet or caretaker models. Horrifyingly enough, if their not murder-fucked over the course of a night, they could live a full twenty years. However this brings in a whole new list of problems. She has no interests, no hobbies, no goals in life, no experiences, all her programming tells her is to provide pleasure to her human, to have them use and abuse her body. She needs to be whipped, flogged, beaten and fucked. Her human looks like he needs to choke something? She'll offer her throat and encourage him to squeeze the life out of her.

She's in distress after a few days. Yes they've had sex, she almost worships him for saving her but she feels wrong. Everything she knows is telling her she's doing wrong, because he's not taking the whip to her. Because he's not hitting her. Because he's not breaking her. He can't be wrong, he's human, so it must be she who is wrong. Maybe she's a faulty product, if he can't or won't use her. Maybe he comes home to find her curled up in a ball, shaking and crying, convinced she's a bad construct. When he finally gets her to tell him what's wrong, once he gets her past the part about her not wanting to burden him with the fact she's faulty, they have to work out a routine. He's not going to beat her or whip her but spank her? Take a riding crop to her? That he could do, before he leaves in the morning and when he gets back from work. And maybe instead of leaving her free to roam around the apartment, he can get her a stand to be locked into, with a couple of toys and a tablet, so she can watch some vids and so he can play with her on break.


This wasn't suppose to be permanent

Gene Mods.

Who knew that physically changing a full grown organism, would be as simple as ingesting a chemical cocktail? Who would have guessed that it was the hair product industry, to come up with a groundbreaking genetic altering tool? But everyone could have guessed, it would be the government, to make such a thing, illegal.

The first gene mod, was sold as a way to permanently change hair. Want green hair for the rest of your life? Drink this shot glass worth of chemicals and within a day, your hair starts growing in as that brand new color. Maybe you want your hair to be a rainbow? Drink a new mod every few months and there you go, “natural” or at least naturally frown, multicolored hair, without needing to use damaging dyes, colors wont fades and you won't have to worry about messing up the colors, when you get your hair styled.

Once the secret was found out, all kinds of new mods starting showing up on the market. Mods to change eye colors, finger nail colors and even skin color. Of course, medical applications came too. They could fix your vision, prevent or cure diseases and manner of things. Of course, being humans and all, mods became wildly popular with the sex industry. Want a few more inches to your dick? There's a mod for that. Want to go up a few cup sizes? There is a mod for every size.

But what really become a money maker, was when someone figured out how to make temporary mods. Physical changes, which would only last hours, turned mods into the wildest and legal party drug, there ever had been. Exterme changes, which would turn a functional adult into little more then a mindless fuck toy, could be fun for an evening. A chance to live out your fantasies or try out a fetish? There is a mod for that. Best of all, you don’t have to stay in a state, for example, where your whole body is an erogenous zone, with beasts bigger then your head and unable to think about anything but sex.

The trouble came, after several high profile (and many low profile) cases, where those moving outside the law, used permanent mods with the effects of temporary ones, to turn unsuspecting victims into sex slaves. Moral panic started after that, fueling those who had been crusading against mods anyways and laws were passed, banning everything but a narrowly defined medical use for mods. Harsh punishments for those manufacturing, distributing, possessing or using mods, became the norm.

History however is filled with examples of making something that was widely used and popular, illegal overnight, being an utterly failure. Prohibition comes to mind, as does the war on drugs. It only forces such things underground, with unreliable or even dangerous products, made in other nations or homebrewed. Still, given the laws and the risks, mod parties, at least with temporary mods, remain popular and profitable. Of course, accidents happen and sometimes, the mods don’t wear off, making life difficult, especially for those playing with more extreme mods. It's not like you can report the incident to the police or sue, without finding yourself up on criminal charges. Finding a doctor to reverse the effects, is not only hard but very expensive.




So, what about the plot? Well, as I was working up this little setting, I had a few different story lines came to me but nothing set in stone. I’m leaning more towards playing an unmodded male (at least permanently) and my partner playing a permanently modded female character.  Could be a couple go to a mod party but one of them, ends up permanently changed and they have to find a way to reverse the changes, while dealing with the effects it as on everyday life. Or it could be a darker story, the people setting up the mod party, are looking to fulfill orders for playthings and take one party goer, now and then, after feeding them a permanent mod, to carefully concocted to match their client's preferences.

*In addition to sexual changes, we could also work in species, something like an elf (or any fantasy race), twi'lek (or any sci-fi race)  or an anthro



Made for Him

There are points in time, where different universes overlap, normally only for a brief moment. During such overlaps, crossovers can occur. A monster is seen in a lake, someone takes a blurry photograph of a strange flying object, something sinks a ship or in some cases, a mysterious disappearance happens. The Man from Taured is a good example, a mysterious visitor to Japan, arriving on an airplane, only his passport is from a country, which never existed. A man who grew very upset when he couldn’t find his country on a map of Europe but pointed to the tiny nation of Andorra, saying that country shouldn’t exist, that was where Tuared should be. A man who would disappear from a guarded, sixth story hotel room, along with his belongings, including the documentation being stored in the airport security office.

In most cases, everything or everyone is returned to the universe they belong to, leaving behind only memories and little proof but sometimes, whoever or whatever crosses over, strays a little too far from the point of contact between universes and is trapped in a world, not their own. Such examples being the Mandela effect or the Berenstain/Berenstein Bears. Populations of people from very closely related universes, moved one from the other, to find a subtle difference, such as Nelson Mandela not dying in the 1980s but living well into the twenty first century or a change of a single letter in the name of a popular children's book series.

Such an event took place in a remote cabin, in the Green Mountains of northern Vermont. A being crossed over and was lost in a universe, where none of her kind, had ever existed, leaving her at the mercy of a man she both knew intimately but was a stranger to.

In her own world, she had been created to be the companion of a powerful politician. Not a free person but not a slave, as she had rights and responsibilities. However she was made to serve the needs of one man, as both a personal assistant and as a lover. His kinks were hers and her desires were his pleasures. In fact, her designers might have gone a little too far, with their attempt to create the best companion, as extended amounts of time without physical interaction with her human, has been shown to leave her mentally distressed and physically ill. Thankfully, this hasn’t been tested to the extreme, although there have been a few times, due to unforeseen delays, which have caused some concern.

In this new world, the man who in so many ways resembles her human, is not a politician, using the secluded cabin to get away from business and the media but rather an author. A rather good one in fact, with several different series, who likes living in the cabin year around and enjoys the quiet so he can write.

It was a quirk of fate, that in two universes, the same man, was watching the same storm, from the same porch and in a single clap of thunder, the only difference between them, moved from one to another.

[IrishWolf]

Giving this thread a bump. Been thinking about Government Issue Vixen lately, although all ideas are open