I'm very, very excited to finally formally announce what I've been so hard at work on. This small book of stories is the culmination of months of writing and rewriting and years of storing nuggets of ideas.
Just a fair warning– if you are easily offended, this book may not be for you. There are a handful of instances of things that are sexual in nature and there are also occurrences of drug use. I don't feel like I need to say that this book should be for mature readers only, however I know that someone will freak if I don't. So here it is: This book is for mature readers only. Don't say I didn't warn you.
I wanted to include a story online here for people to get their feet wet, but because there are only twelve of them I don't want to give away too much. So, instead here's the beginning of the story Vanity:
She squats down so her rear end hangs in the air, maybe four inches from the carpet, like she’s about to pinch off a loaf in some toilet hole dug in the ground. The sheer lace decorating her hips and lower front is held together by a thin black string that flosses a perfectly round ass. A platinum blonde waterfall cascades down a bare back and she’s holding an arm across her tits to censor tiny, perky pepperonis. A shutter clicks and the pose changes and in her head it’s a photo shoot for Playboy. In the mirror, her phone reflects back and she’s making sure her butt looks good enough after every shot because the right amount of lower back curvature is essential.
In two hours these photos will be on her personal web page—after they’re retouched and painted to give more shape and to even out color. To make her small muffin top disappear. You wouldn’t know it just by looking, but this girl is more Frankenstein than model. The hours spent perfecting the point of her nose, moving her eyes closer together, she’s less human than she is mouse-clicks. The retouch master, she could turn a cleft lip into a plumpy pair of pole smokers. The airbrush ace, she could twist lazy eyes straight into “fuck me” eyes. The Photoshop queen, she could turn a Harlequin baby into a supermodel. With all these edits, all these thousands of clicks, with so much makeup caked on, with eyelashes long and thick as spider legs, she could be Joe Camel in disguise. In two hours, this girl, she’s the five-million-dollar version of herself that not even Mom would recognize. Except for the light brown shotgun spatter across her stomach. But that’s always sure to be edited out.
For a few clicks and a few bucks, you can have access to every angle you could want. Any outfit that could tickle your fancy.
This eighteen-year-old, online she calls herself Marilyn instead of boring, unremarkable Chelsea. In another life, she could’ve sung happy birthday to the president. She’s 26 according to her profile and, naturally, a professional model.
With the Internet so accessible, you don’t even need the middle man anymore. This whole slew of average women turned supermodels, they’re putting agencies and photographers out of business. Because now any average Joe can use a Nikon D3 or a Canon 5D to produce a black-and-white masterpiece. Anyone can filter an image or edit out the bags under their eyes, make their skin porcelain smooth. With one decent pose and a few clicks of a mouse, everything you hate about yourself changes. You make yourself beautiful. You make guys want to fuck you.
An entire generation of digital Barbies.
That's all for now! As always, thanks for reading and hopefully you enjoy! Until next time.