The Smell of Hate (Patreon)

Mei Ling had spent a lifetime perfecting her disdain for Indian women with their sweat-glazed skin, their unshaved arms, their cloying spice-perfumed arrogance. So why did Priya’s sandalwood-and-sweat stink make her pulse throb? "You’re empty," Priya whispered, "All that pearl cream and you still reek of self-loathing." Mei fled... but that night, scrubbing raw under scalding water, the steam cleared to reveal dark hair thickening at her arms, legs, everywhere--coarse, musky, and spreading.

A second 30-pager this month for all my $5 patrons. Thanks for showing love. Hope you enjoy.