Disclaimer: This work contains adult materials including sexually explicit activities, strong language, racist terminology, and human trafficking. This work is not suitable for minors. Reader discretion is advised.
TSF Series #010: The Island of Doctor Bitz
Chapter 6: Third Embrace
As the digital clock in the kitchenette read 21:10, I plucked a cork from a bottle and began to pour it into a glass. After a night like this, all of us agreed we could use a few drinks, and this would be my third. I had learned to hold my liquor, an essential trait if one wants to get to the top in any industry, but with the body of a young woman, my tolerance was lower. I felt tipsy after two drinks, but as I downed half of my next glass of wine, I felt a notable buzz going through my head.
It was what I wanted. To numb my senses before doing something I was unsure about, and build courage within me. What was I going to do? Well, that was clearly obvious as I brought myself to the full-length mirror. It showed a young and beautiful Latina woman with a glass strewn between the fingers of one hand, while her other braced her prominent hips, dressed in nothing more than underwear. Or, I suppose lingerie is a better way to put it. Something I found when digging through the wardrobe that was prepared for me.
It was a passionate red, adorned with floral trimmings, clung close to my tan skin, and failed to do more than faintly hide what laid below. When combined with the wine glass, the wavy hair draping over the shoulders, and the sultry grin I sported, I would say I looked like something from an erotic magazine. Well, almost. The only thing that was missing was make-up, but I neither had any I could use, nor could I get into the bathroom to apply it, as a certain somebody by the name of Raven was still inside there, getting ‘better acquainted’ with her spiffy new penis.
It struck me as odd at first that she would be so infatuated with herself, especially after being with me twice a few hours ago. Yet as I thought back to what Bitz told us, that these bodies were 18 or 19, I recalled what my libido was like at that age. Back then, I would eagerly force my girlfriend into sex, pressuring and grooming her into my indentured sex recipient who I seldom went a night without fucking for nearly two years. It was wrong on a deep level, and as I thought back to Raven and me, how she rushed me into sex earlier today, I had to ask if she was doing now was comparable to what I was doing in the 50s.
“No,” I thought to myself, “I loved Raven, and my love for her was rekindled earlier today. We are both adults, and whatever power dynamics we have in our relationship are being reestablished. I know I can fight back when necessary, and while she may be far fonder of teasing me than she ever was before, I… kind of like it. …No, Caleb, just roll with it. Your male pride is already buried in a ditch, and even though it’s been a few hours, it’s already being consumed by worms.”
I finished my third glass of wine and set the glass down on the sink before laying down on the bed, hanging my feet off the side while looking out the open glass door leading to a modest balcony, looking out into the ocean.
“Maybe I should just go to sleep,” I said out loud “I’m already beyond a bit tipsy. I’m not slurring my words, which is a good sign, but it is best to think over more complex matters after a good night’s sleep, and not at the end of a hectic and revelatory day… Nah, fuck it. I’m feeling frisky and Raven’s dick is mine for the taking!”
“Oh, really now?” Raven said from across the room, having seemingly just left the soundproof confinements of the bathroom at the worst, or best, possible time.
“Yes, my dear,” I replied, recovering quickly. “What can I say? You have good equipment and are learning how to use it well. And I know you enjoy my performance as well.”
“Please Caleb, you know what I was doing here and I can smell the wine on your breath. If you want to fuck, be direct about it, love.”
“I do, but… I also feel like I owe you. You’ve been helping me all day, from washing my hair, getting dressed, and I know I am going to rely on you a lot going forward, as I do not know much of anything about living as a woman. I mean, I never wanted this. I never had any fantasies about being a woman. But now that I am one, I feel like I should make the most of it. Enjoy life on the other side of the fence and, as Bitz said, broaden my understanding. And to do that, I’ll need your help.”
“Caleb, I’m delighted by how well you’re taking this, how you’re not being an audacious ass with his dick in the dirt. But if you think you owe me for anything I’ve done, you’re wrong. I helped you because I wanted to. Because, even if it’s been far too long since I’ve shown it, I did and do love you. It just took this transformation, the demolition of the wall of bitterness that built up as we aged, for me to remember that. If anything, I should be the one apologizing. I shamed you for your indecent behavior when I did the same, all because I wanted to ram my dick inside you. The body of a young man is a virile thing, and I became intoxicated by it. I pressured you into sex, and while you did that to me plenty of times in the past, standards were different back then, and as a young person, I should know and do better than the generations that came before me.”
“If I am going to be a man,” Raven continued,“ I want to be a gentleman. and what kind of gentleman would I be if I were to just let you struggle through things? Besides, seeing you timidly dip your toes into the pool of womanhood, that’s, as they say, totes adorbs, and I will do everything in my power to ease you into the deep end”
“…Wow, that just sounds… awful when coming from the mouth of a man.”
“Alright lady lips, you give it a shot.”
“Um, let’s see,” I said before pausing and grunting as I shifted my voice to vocal fry, “like, oh my Gawd, can you even believe what she wore today? That shit was totes adorbs.”
Raven then burst out laughing, shoving her face into the sheets as she got all the giggles out of her system.
“See?! This is what I was talking about! You are so goldarn cute like this!”
I reflexively began to look away from Raven as she complimented me, unsure as to how I should process praise of that nature, but rather than recoil, I retained my focus and drew closer to her, clinging to confidence and conviction I had been lacking since my transformation. I drew myself closer to Raven, placing a hand on her chin as I brought our faces together in a humble kiss that lasted little more than a brief moment
“Oh, I like this side of you,” Raven said as our lips broke free. “Are we done with the foreplay and ready to begin? Because I’ve been ready to rock since I laid eyes on you, my dear.”
“Heh. Not quite,” I cooed into Raven’s ear, “I need to unwrap your present first.”
Freed of my pride, my concerns, and my worries, I pushed Raven away and off the bed, casting it as a stage for my first true performance. Through my sexual travels, through the span of decades of perversions, I had developed a keen eye for the perverse from seeing how women all over the world sought to titillate a man and being on the receiving end. Now, I was adopting their role, presenting myself before a man, and for both my own sake and theirs, I wanted to make this formal debut a special one.
Sitting on my knees, I began with a glance, a come hither glare insinuating that I wanted them, a smile, and a bob of the head, sending a ripple through my hair as it shook across my shoulders. Raven’s attention was focused, but lingering impatience in her pale green eyes urged me to get on with it. I maintained eye contact with her as I brushed my hands against myself, beginning on my legs before making their way up my back, my movements slow yet focused as I made way to the clasp. I bit my tongue as I smiled, feeling for the small metal hoops that bound this light cloth to my person, undoing them one by one with as much care as I could manage while gaining a greater understanding of why women always allowed me to take the initiative by undoing their bra.
As the fabric against my back loosened, I returned my hands to the front of my chest, crawling up my breasts and to the straps adorning my slender shoulders, pulling them off in unison until they were about halfway down my bicep. Twisting myself backwards, I pulled my arms through the widened holes of the bra, freeing my arms of their constraint while still leaving my breasts covered by the light fabric that failed to even remotely conceal my erect nipples.
I brought my hands to this dainty cloth and tugged slowly, revealing the upper half of my breasts before the nipple slipped out, causing Raven’s eyes to widen even further in response. Soon, the garment was pulled off of my being, and resting in my hand, remaining there as I lightly shook it before casually tossing it away from the bed. I spent a moment motioning my exposed upper body, curving my back while allowing my unshackled parts to jiggle slightly with every major motion. Raven’s eyes were, predictably, locked on them, at least until I began the second part of this set.
I adjusted legs, stood on my knees, and once more brushed my hands against my curvaceous form until I reached my hips and the fabric that enveloped my waist. I curled my thumb past the fabric and began to pull downwards, revealing the entirety of my person, while keeping the most coveted region obscured. Keeping my legs tight, I began to shake my hips and legs slightly as I carried the cloth down to my knees, urging me to shift my body once more, unfurling my legs before Raven. As her eyes looked over my slender skin, I continued to push my panties down, moving bit by bit until they were past my feet. I latched onto them with a single finger, bringing the cloth closer to me, where I began to twirl the cloth around for a moment before casually flinging it across the room, where it landed near the bra.
Fully naked, I stood on all fours and looked onwards to Raven, who had long since discarded her pajama shirt and shorts in favor of nothing at all. I drew closer and wrapped my fingers around her neck, calling her to truly join me on this stage, and she did so eagerly, bringing me down on my back within a matter of seconds, looming over me with her erect penis inches away from penetrating me. I looked at her face, thriving with lust, but as she waited for my cue, I shot her a disapproving look.
“I will be the one taking the initiative tonight, Raven. You lay down on your back and let me work my magic.”
Her eyes widened at my remark, only for a satisfied look to replace that of lust.
“Why, be my guest, my dear Caleb.”
Raven pushed our bodies against each other as she rolled across the bed, putting me on top and her on the bottom. I shot up from her welcoming chest quickly, startled by such spontaneity, but quickly began to readjust myself, returning to my knees and placing myself slightly behind her dick, which stood valiantly upwards above the flatness that surrounded it. I fixated on her impressive member and began aiming myself, closing my eyes as I felt the twitching muscles that flowered through my vagina, aiming it for the skyward pole beneath me, and forcing my body to accommodate it by widening my legs.
A mix between a gasp of shock and a moan of exhilaration escaped my mouth as I accommodated my wife, and a deeply satisfying grunt escaped from hers. Our eyes met as I stabilized myself, Raven showing some concern as she saw me attempt such a position, but a smile and wink assured her that I had this all under control.
My vision glazed as I began recalling my faded memories of being pleasured in this manner, and focused on what the girl was doing. Setting the pace for what worked with her, shaking herself to better acclimate my mostly static dick, and while I viewed it as merely being pleasured while laying back like a king, now that I was the one with the dick in me, I began to view it as something entirely different. I was the one in control here. The dick was for me to use to get me off. While Raven’s role and satisfaction were important, she was already being catered to, and so long as I established the right rhythm, this would blow our first two times like this out of the water.
I leaned in forward as I began to work my hips, slowly easing into the right pace while adjusting myself, steadying my legs and planting my arms against her chest. We looked down at each other as I thrust, bouncing steadily up and down, and I thought about saying something, but everything I could say was so much more eloquently stated by my actions. As I continued to fill myself with my partner, I felt myself drift closer and closer to Raven, whose eyes were crossed between the expression on my face and the breasts flapping across my chest. I smiled at her fixation, only for my expression to morph into shock as she jolted her sedentary hands upwards, wrapping them around my chest.
I pulled myself back as I felt this pressure, but Raven’s light grip remained, swirling a finger around my nipples while caressing the rest of the surface. I continued my established rhythm as this happened, and looked into Raven to see a sinister look on her face. I shot her a pained smile in response, enamored by the pleasure going through my body, but overwhelmed all the same. Despite this body’s vigor, I was still slightly sore from our encounters earlier in the day, and while the alcohol helped me gain the courage to pursue something like this, I could feel the adverse effects ease in.
I knew I could just stop here if need be, but I refused. I continued moving in accordance to my established tempo even as my breathing became short and Raven grew tired with my left breast and brought a hand to my crotch, where she felt around in the dark for my clit. As a fogginess began to fill my head, I simultaneously wished that she would stop and that I could continue to exist in this state ad eternum. Time became vague and ethereal as we continued in this state until something within me finally reached its limit, and a burst escaped from me.
For the briefest moment, I wondered if my heart had skipped, if I had truly pushed this body of mine too far, only for a gust of air to refill my emptied lungs, bringing me back to life as my body resumed doing what it was before, but this time with more lubrication. I looked down at Raven, her hands against the bedsheets and off my body, while her face was contorted and strained almost as if she were about to end this… and she did.
A hot and thick fluid filled me once again, defying gravity as it fired upwards and clung to my vaginal wall, but most of it merely dripped out from the crevices that laid between us, tainting the light sheets with white once more. I raised my shaky half-numb legs, slowly removing Raven from my insides as I stared at the bed below, and once I felt a gushing and freeing noise escape from our genitals, I plopped myself next to my spouse, landing on my side and bounding onto my back.
My body was hot and sweaty, while my breath was heavy and slow. Yet even in this haggard state, I still managed to voice my frustrations.
“Fuck do I need to work on my stamina!” I shouted in slurred words.
“Bitch, shut the fuck up! You were amazing! Your pussy is ace! And I love you!”
“Yeah, and I love you too,” I said between deep breaths. “I’d ask how you got so good with your hands, but—”
“Sweetie, I have decades of experience with stimulating a woman’s body using a pair of hands. But I’m sure if you wanted to give me a handjob, it’d be leagues better than anything I could hope to do without years of experience.”
“Eh, not really. Rub a dick any way you like, and it’ll cum all the same.”
“Heh. But if you’d be so inclined, I wouldn’t mind seeing what your new hands could do down there—”
“Is there anything you won’t do?” I interjected.
“I won’t let you pee or poop on me.”
“Do you really need to specify such deviant trite?”
“You’re the one who said anything,” Raven said with a shit-eating grin, “I just said the first thing that came to mind. What about you? Anything you’re giving the hard no to?”
“Well… I guess I’d be down for most things. I kept it pretty vanilla when I was a man— because that’s all I really knew— but even though you’re still as feisty as ever, if not more so, I don’t think you’d ever try to force me into something crazy. I mean, unless we become a pair of sex-crazed maniacs in the foreseeable future… which is a distinct possibility based on our current trajectory. Three times, six hours, three different positions.”
“…If you started working those thighs and got them toned, I bet they’d feel great on my dick.”
“Pfft, typical men,” I said jokingly, bursting into laughter shortly after those words escaped my lips.
“What can I say? I’ve got testosterone pumping through these veins, cum all over my penis, and a stunning woman right next to me. Of course, I’ve got wackadoo sex shit on the brain.”
“Say,” I began, taken aback by something Raven just said, “do you see me as a woman now, Raven?”
“…Caleb, when I look at you, I see you as my husband, because I know that’s who you are, and I am constantly seeing little bits and pieces of you in everything you do. But I also see a woman, because I’m not blind. Hell, as far as I can tell, I have 20/20 vision.”
“But am I a he or a she to you? Even though you have the body of a man, and have taken a clear fondness to it, I still consider you to be my wife, Raven. I still think of you as a woman, even though… you aren’t anymore.”
“Caleb, could you be direct? We’ve had a loaded day, and while post-coitus might seem like the ideal time to have introspective conversations like this to you, I honestly just want to get a glass of water, wash my penis, and go to bed.”
“What I’m asking is… when do you, and when should I, start considering myself to be a woman. I cannot live as a man like this, and after just this day alone I don’t plan on ever returning to my own body, so… when should I throw in the towel, accept that I am female now, and adopt a new name to go along with it.”
“I think the answer is whenever you’re ready. We’re in a weird situation, almost like we left the world we knew and entered some kind of Trans-Sexual Fantasy. So I don’t think there is really any standard stating what we should do. I’m sure that Anthony and Penny had or will have a similar conversation, and we’ll be able to talk to Bitz, or at least a staff member, about this tomorrow. For now, let’s just wash up and go to bed. Does that sound good, Kayla?”
“Kayla? Is that supposed to be my girl name?”
“It sounds like Caleb, and it’s cute. Just like you.”
“I… how did you get so good at pushing my buttons?!”
“I’m not. Your buttons are just easy, and fun, to push.”
“Well, if I’m going to be Kayla—”
“Oh, so you like it?”
“It’s not necessarily a name that I would expect a Mexican woman to have, but… it’s definitely a name I’ll consider. What about you though? Do you have a male name in mind?”
“Eh, Raven is technically a unisex name, and I still have the dark hair, so it still fits.”
“Jeez, how original.”
“If the glove fits, you may as well keep using it.”
“…You’re just making up phrases at this point.”
“Yep! It’s late and I want to go to bed, but some woman keeps roping me into pillow talk. C’mon, I’ll walk you to the bathroom if you can’t.”
“Oh no, I should be able to make it. I just need to keep myself near a wall.”
“…Just hold my hand and let me take you there, you independent woman, you.”
Wasting little time, Raven escorted me to the bathroom, propping me up in the bathtub, and letting me clean myself with the showerhead once more while she took a washcloth to her penis. We then made our way to the kitchen, each grabbing a glass of filtered water and heading off to bed. Raven tore off the sullied primary layer of bedsheets to the less sullied layer, but the bed still reeked of semen regardless, not unlike the two of us.
As we laid down next to each other, the ocean breeze and the associated smell both wafting throughout the room from the open balcony window, we brought our hands together and leaned in for a small kiss before shutting our eyes. I steadily drifted off to sleep, immersing myself in the sound of my easy breathing, trying to clear my mind and not wallow through the myriad questions still left unanswered. Questions about my future, about this island, and about what would become of my relationship with those who came with me. The answers would come in due time and for now… I was just glad that I got everything I truly wanted.
A sprightly body, an extended life, a rekindled love, and a happiness I had long since shut myself off from. All derived from an opportunity I had been given that only a few thousand people have been allowed to experience. While I had baggage to unpack regarding my accumulated racist and sexist viewpoints as I tried to reconcile with my new lot in life, I had time to sift through it and discover who I am after I was Caleb Jones.
Right now, however, it was time to sleep, and sleep I did, drifting into the most sound and pleasant slumber I could recall, a respite from my worries, concerns, aches, pains, and so much more. Yet I knew that I would approach tomorrow with vigor and ambition, for I was granted a new beginning, and I would make the most of it.
I really had no intention of making TSF Series #010 this sprawling and long, but shit happens, and sometimes you just wind up writing a 32,000 word novella in 2 weeks, edit it in 5 days, and create the crummy art assets in 2. This was a wild undertaking for me, and I am incredibly happy that I decided to take it on. It has been far too long since I last truly created a long-form narrative, and I forgot how much I loved having the room and narrative girth needed to tell a story like this. However, this was by no means planned or intended on any level.
Originally, TSF Series #010 was going to be a story by the name of Cyber Killer: Renegade Edgeboy, a story about a trio of characters ‘jacking’ into cyberspace to defend a terminal from a cyber-terrorist, who they battle in an elaborate shonen-style action sequence. I actually wrote a 6,500 draft of the story, hitting all the notes I wanted to in my outline, but it wasn’t quite right. It did not have the creative spark that I wanted it to, and as I looked over my best effort at an ending, I just did not feel that the story lived up to my (low) standards.
I was happy with the battle sequence I wrote, which involved an edgy black man with gauntlet claws, a gothic lolita loli cat girl with a spear, and a black bear with an axe fighting against a flying cecaelia (octopus mermaid) by the name of Futanari Vorestep, and I liked the character dynamics I established for the main cast. But everything surrounding the world, and the living situation of its cast, I could not reconcile it into something I was happy with, and rather than try to spend more time than the week I already invested into this story, I decided to scrap it and move onto something else, as I did have ample time in my schedule.
This led me back to my jolly old idea bucket, and the idea that spoke to me the most was to write a story inspired by Watashi dake o Aishite (Love me Only) by Marialite. A hentai doujin largely about a deranged minor turning the women around him into bodysuits so he can satiate his own twisted desires. Most specifically, I was attracted to the idea of a bodysuit collector, which served as the base from which this idea was built upon. The idea of a collector almost immediately shifted into that of a seller, and from there, I began to ask myself the core questions that would shape the story going forward.
Realistically, what type of person would collect and sell bodysuits? Some eccentric wacko. Realistically, who would buy bodysuits from this dude? Perverts, the disabled, and old people. Which of these three groups do I want to write a story about? Old people, because they can be all three and are the most likely to have money. Where are these bodysuits sold? International waters, on a private island, because that is the best place to do anything!
Over the span of a day or so, this idea of old people visiting an island to buy bodysuits from a crazy bodysuit hustler gestated and baked into something greater, but as the ideas mingled, I made certain changes. I replaced the eccentric bodysuit dealer with a reimagined version of Dr. Bitz und Pieces, a character from a short story I wrote back in 2013, Viktor: Der Pfad zu den Doktor. The main cast of characters was inspired by a bunch of older individuals I have worked with, under, and for in the past, including a prideful ‘punished’ patriarch, his sexy younger foreign caucasian assistant, a bitter old crone, a silly old man, and a jovial old lady.
The names of Caleb and Raven were lifted directly from Fictionmania writers Caleb Jones and Raven. The minor characters Winter, Seita, and Zachary are all from unpublished short stories I wrote in 2013, because I love recycling my garbage. And I decided to go all-in on the island motif by making the setting into a private resort. However, in reviewing and imagining the specifics of the transformation that would occur partway through this story, I found myself growing unenthused with the idea of the characters donning bodysuits.
I liked the idea of condensing bodies into easily portable skin sheathes to be later worn, but I did not want the characters to be stuck forever, or for them to have the ability to return to their old bodies at a moment’s notice. So I decided to go with an unconventional form of body swapping that involved bodysuits, soul juice, and a gun. Because that’s how I roll!
Once all of these elements were in place, I went on my usual stream of consciousness approach to outlining and came up with 3 pages that largely surmised what amounted to a 62 page story. The very next day, I began writing the introductory airplane sequence, immediately realized that this story was going to be over 20,000 words long, and I mandated that I write 3,000 words a day, which I followed… for the most part. Look, sometimes you get swamped with 10 hours of work and don’t feel like writing at the end of the day.
It was a mad rush of productivity, and after having not worked on a long-form multi-chapter story in about 8 months, it felt amazing to get back into the swing of things, and to do all of this in a matter of less than a month? Well, that is a feat of productivity I have never accomplished in my time as a writer, and it felt utterly fantastic to finish something so large, so robust, in such a short amount of time. But am I happy with the story itself? Yes, I would say so. I set out with what I wanted to do, felt I took this idea to a good place, had a grand time writing and editing it, and from my own critical lens, I do think that I made a good story. However, there are some misgivings I have about the final product that I couldn’t or didn’t want to rectify while editing.
Despite being main characters, Anthony, Penny, and especially Melody are all fairly unimportant next to Caleb and Raven, whose story of reclaiming their lost love is what The Island of Doctor Bitz is ultimately about. The explanation I gave for the body swapping was complex, unnecessary, and emblematic of my love of convoluted backstories. A lot of details centering around Bitz Isle as a setting and ecosystem are still rather vague (I thought about making a map of the island but decided against it because I did not really care). And I could not find a good place to explain Doctor Bitz’s current body, which is an amalgamation of a pair of conjoined twins, one male and one female, who were unable to live into adulthood due to their condition, and whose bodies Bitz used to form their new one. Also, Bitz is non-binary, in case that was not totes obvz.
However, the biggest red flag surrounding this story is the fact that this story is about rich white people benefitting from human trafficking and the suffering of impoverished minorities in third world countries. I did not set out to make a story about this, but as I tried to justify Bitz Isle as an ecosystem, this was the only way such a thing could realistically happen outside of kidnapping people of different ages in wealthier countries. Extending one’s life by swapping bodies means that somebody else needs to have their life shortened, a sacrifice must be made, and I when thinking about what the most moral group to sacrifice is, what lives matter the least in the world, the answer I came to is those with a low life expectancy. Those who, statistically, would not see the full extent of their life, and whose contribution to the society they are born into will likely be an exceptionally minor one.
From this point, I tried to spin a justification both to myself and in-universe, which can be found within Doctor Bitz’s explanation in Chapter 5: Bitz Und Stücke. They are aware that this shit is fucked, and while it is not right, if it leads to long-term benefits, if it helps more people than it hurts, that makes it as much of a net positive as you can get when playing with human lives. It is problematic, it is conflicting, and if you disagree with Bitz’s implementation, or consider them to be a monster, that’s perfectly understandable.
Oh, but that is not the only problematic element of this story, as I also chose to discuss the subject of race and racism by taking the main cast of five white people and putting them in the bodies of people of different ethnicities. This is something I do often when writing stories wherein a character undergoes a change of sex, a TG transformation because I like it when TG is more than just a change in primary and secondary sexual characteristics. I like it when the person at the beginning and end of the transformation is somebody entirely different, and one of the most clear and obvious ways to differentiate one person from another is their ethnicity.
I have never really gone in deep on the ramifications on what this means in any of my work, as I was raised to operate under the principle that the only thing that differentiates people of different ethnicities is a matter of aesthetics, it’s just the color of one’s skin. And when I have injected racism into my work, it was always presented as something that old, bad, or ignorant white people do to people with darker skin. But, no, racism is a systemic issue that everybody (especially white people) is guilty of on at least some level, as the world everybody is born into is still divided and segregated by race.
This is something that was really hammed home to me over the past month following the murder of George Floyd, the resurgence of the Black lives Matter campaign, and the protests that broke out around America. While this work does contain some discussion on racism, I really did not explore it beyond a surface level. Because I don’t know how to talk about racism in an elegant manner, and it is something that I, as a white person, am cagey about. I will openly acknowledge that it exists, I will admit that I do have some racist tendencies despite preaching about diversity, equality, and being all for representation. But I don’t know how to talk about it beyond light references, beyond the surface level, and I’m not really the right or best person to explore this subject matter deeply. That’s a job for somebody with explicit experience with racism, not a privilege-rich honky like me.
I attempt to keep my nose clean, I will gladly edit my work to address or remove harmful elements if requested, I try to avoid being overtly racist, and I strive to be an equal opportunist in my work whenever possible. I like including characters of various ethnicities in my work because I think it’s right, normal, neat, and a lot of the time I just pick them randomly. While this flippant approach can be criticized, I do not think there is much inherently wrong with including people of different ethnicities and changing them around just for the hell of it, and having everybody be cool with it. It’s definitely better than pretending that people of other races don’t exist or exotifying the shit out of everybody who isn’t white or Mukokuseki.
…Anyways, I went on a bit of a tangent here— as I often do— so I’ll just end this by saying that I hoped you enjoyed this novella, and I would love to hear your thoughts on… literally anything about the story or this afterword.