A Queen By Any Other Name (Patreon)

I am completely blaming Maryam Stringer for this one. She asked, “What about the one where Liam and Ondry (Claimings) met Vin and Dylan (Fettered) at the Stonewall on a Monday night? I forget if Miss Dolphinia moved to that space station or not...”

At first I was like… whaaaaaaa?

And then my muse starting plotting out ideas. You know if Vin and Dylan are there, I can’t leave Miss Dolphinia behind. But she would have to have something to rage against, and in my head, the universe has moved past caring about homosexuality. So everything started to shift. Yep, this is all thanks to you Maryam because I would NEVER have gone here. Okay, now back to editing. I will put up a call for beta readers on Ends, Means soon, but first I need to do a read through.

And on with the story….

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A Queen By Any Other Name

Dylan walked into the bar and took a deep breath. He had no idea what he was doing a place like this. If his mother caught him, she would skin him alive. Alicia Carter was not amused by anyone who threatened her status by cavorting with people like this. She would probably even use the word cavort.

Dylan spotted a dozen nonhuman modifications just from the door. The place wasn't trying to be subtle, that's for sure. In fact, the person strolling toward him had more modifications then Dylan had ever seen on a human being. Along zir shoulders zie had an upright display of peacock feathers. Dylan might have mistaken it for an article of clothing only when zie turned, skin stretched over the base of the feathers in a way that makeup or clothing couldn't mimic. That was a modification. 

And it wasn't zir only one. Zie had the more common gender fluid modifications with nice sized breasts and pierced nipples on full display and tight pants that showed off an impressive cock in a set of balls. Most intersex individuals had smaller genitals on one end or the other, but this person clearly enjoyed showing off both sets. But then there were the more controversial mods—peacock feathers and a snakeskin going down zir shoulders and onto zir arms. Even zir face was modified with a thin strip of what looked like beak material over the bridge of zir nose. It took a hard-core modifier to put something on zir face.

It took a hard-core modifier to put something on a face. Zie couldn't hide that. Then again, Dylan wasn't sure how the peacock feathers would fit underclothing either. The person offered Dylan a smile and started toward him with a swing in his step. Only once zie got close did Dylan realize how tall zie was, at least six feet, and then zie was wearing thick heels that made zim taller. The closer zie got, the more uncomfortable Dylan felt. He seriously considered bolting and running home to his mother and Gary and the picture-perfect illusion she upheld as the chief aide of a sitting senator.

Then the person spoke. Zie had a lilt in his voice that Dylan hadn’t expected. “Aren't you a sweet little thing? Did you get lost and wandering here by accident?” Zir smile was wicked and promised to share such nasty secrets. Dylan felt the heat down to his toes.

He tried to answer, but his mouth was so dry that the words didn't come out.

The smile faded into something softer. “Or maybe you'd like to get a drink?” Zie asked. Dylan nodded. Before he could change his mind, zie had a hand at Dylan’s back, guiding him toward the bar. 

“Why did you name the bar after a stone wall?” Dylan blurted. Dylan had no idea where that had even come from. Dylan babbled when he got nervous, unlike his brother Gary, the perfect shiny one of the family. Maybe Gary was right and Dylan was just a giant fuckup looking for a way to ruin his own life and his mother's career. Dylan should have insisted on staying on Earth with his father after the divorce. That's how Carmine had escaped the joy that was their mother. But she had been so devastated when Carmine had filed the request that Dylan couldn’t do it. He couldn’t put a second knife in her back.

A frown flickered across the person’s face, but then zie threw an arm around Dylan shoulders and guided him to the bar. “Now that is an interesting story. It’s not named after a stone wall, it's named after The Stonewall. There was a period in human history where being homosexual was illegal.”

Dylan stopped dead despite the hand on his back. “Seriously?” he demanded. When he looked up into the person’s face, there was no hint of humor. Dylan got that xenomodification was questionable. His mom’s senator was pushing to outlaw it because of the danger and the way unethical people raised animals just for a pretty skin or to harvest feather growing cells. Dylan looked at the magnificent peacock feather mantle. However, a person’s sexuality wasn’t anyone’s business. And yeah, people looked down on submissives as weak, but no one would make those sorts of sex acts illegal. Not even his mom’s senator would stoop to that. Dylan even waited for some punchline that never came. But then he managed a weak, “Why?”

“Oh sweetie, if I understood the stupidity of the human race, I would be a rich human being,” zie said. “I don't. However, the Stonewall is where a large group of people stood up and said enough. Riots and protests marked the beginning of the end for a whole group of people called homophobes.”

“They should've ended. That doesn’t even make sense,” Dylan said as zie guided them to the bar. “I’m Dylan,” he blurted when he realized he hadn’t introduced himself.

“Miss Dolphinia, at your service. I own this establishment.” Dylan mentally switched gears to female pronouns as the woman guided Dylan towards the bar again. “And I couldn't agree more, sweetie. If I had been alive back then, I would have said one or two things to the homophobes of the world. Maybe that’s why I named my bar Stonewall. I wanted to remind people that when you try telling other people how to live, you’re on the wrong side of history. Now I am the first to say that if you hurt someone else, the law has every right to come after you with pitchforks and torches.” She poked a long, manicured nail in Dylan’s direction. “But what you choose to do with your life and your body is your decision.”

“I think so too,” Dylan agreed. His eyes went to a woman with a long cheetah tail coming out from under her skirt. It twitched in aggravation as she gave the man sitting next to her serious side-eye. She turned and gave him a slow, appraising look.

“I should go!” Dylan bolted for the door. He half expected someone to run after him, but he ended up back on the promenade, breathing hard and ignoring all the people walking past. The only good part was that in this part of the station, people ignored him right back. Out here, staring at someone too long could end with a homicide.

Miss Dolphinia sighed as she watched the boy run for the metaphorical hills. He’d be back. He was the sort that had a need burning so deep that he couldn’t resist. She just wasn’t sure what he needed. Her gut said he was looking for someone to tie him up and fuck him hard, but he might also be looking for a mod—something to set him apart from the teeming masses and make him feel visible.  That was a problem for another day.

She headed back toward the shadows where her visitors waited. She wasn’t fooled by their claims about trade. She very little to offer, but her club was full of mods and subs and other people the Rownt might find interesting. Unlike some humans, she devoured information on alien species, and she knew how much they valued their submissives. The reports she’d read were incredulous and offensive in their description of Rownt culture. Maybe the various governments liked Rownt trade, but they didn’t think much of Rownt.

The large Rownt had been silent the entire time, but when Dolphinia reached the back corner, Ondry and Liam were whispering away in guttural tones. “So what has your silent half all a’twitter?” she asked Liam as she tapped her nails against the table top. 

Liam had a sweet smile. If Ondry hadn’t claimed him, Dophinia would have happily bent that boy over a spanking bench. “Ondry never twitters,” Liam said, “but he is concerned about the young man you were talking to.”

That was more direct than Dolphinia had expected, but she also suspected that Liam was playing an angle. He struck her as someone who never spoke without a goal in mind and two different plans for how to get there.

“And what would concern him?” 

For a good minute, Liam stared at her. Very few people could make her uncomfortable, but she had to relax her muscles before her peacock features could shake. Instead they started to sag as she overcompensated. At six foot tall, she wasn’t used to looking up at anyone, especially when she wore her heels, but Liam had to be at least seven feet and his Rownt was even bigger.

The quiet continued for long minutes, but Miss Dolphinia was just as happy to study her guests, so she didn’t try to fill the silence. Liam and Ondry exchanged a few more words before Liam spoke. “He is concerned that the young man might to be a palteia.”

She knew that word; she made it her business to know as many alien concepts as possible. It wasn't just Rownt tails she found fascinating. “Maybe he is,” she said. It was possible, but subs who wanted to live the lifestyle twenty-four/seven were rare. “It’s equally possible he's a sexual submissive who is seeking a temporary break from having to carry the burden of his old life. Maybe he’s not submissive at all, and he puts that cloak on to attract partners.” She had seen that more than once. “But I do know this – if he is a palteia, I'll find him someone I trust to take care of him.”

“A palteia’s most important need is to take care of someone else,” Liam said sharply.

Clearly someone was a little defensive about his status. She gave Liam an appraising look. “Oh honey, trust me, I know that. We get all sorts of confused folk in here. Sometimes they’re into the xeno kink. Sometimes they’re looking for something they can’t articulate. But trust me, I know how to sort them out. It’s the one thing I know intimately. Don't you worry about young Dylan.”

That caused another round of chattering between Ondry and Liam. One of these days she was going to get a translation program, not just for Rownt but for all the people who came in here chattering away in some nonstandard language, assuming they could take advantage of her. Maybe she couldn't understand their language, but she knew body language and she knew a con artist when she saw one. She was damn good at running those bastards right out of her place. 

Ondry glanced toward her and narrowed his nose. She raised her eyebrows.

Liam sighed and gave his partner a weary look. “He’s concerned that you let him leave when he’s so upset.” When Liam looked at Ondry, he had the sappiest expression Dolphinia had seen outside a romance vid. “He has an overprotective streak.”

“So do I,” Dolphinia said. “And that is why I know you can’t push too hard. He needs to make a choice to come back, and he will.” Truth be told, she got in the same subby vibe from Dylan. However, he might need an hour or two of submission. He might be some high-powered lawyer, someone who could afford umpteen rounds of rejuvenation therapy that made him look like a baby-faced boy. 

But if he was what the Rownt called a palteia, she had someone in mind. Vin had a hell of a time controlling his dominant streak and an arrest record a mile-long because any time trouble started, he felt the need to save someone. But he was a good man. She knew it. She smiled at Liam and Ondry. “Not every human is cut out to be a chilta, and those who are often get themselves in trouble. Humans don’t respect that some people are drawn to power exchange no more than they respect a person’s right to modify their own body.” She rattled her peacock feathers and brought them back up to full erect. The feathers and her very large cock were her favorite male displays. “So, what do you have to trade?”

“What payment can you offer?” Liam asked.

Dolphinia smiled. People paid well to indulge their kinks, but she was no match for a high-status Rownt. However, she did have one resource no one else could offer. She leaned an elbow on the table and focused on Ondry. This was a Dom if Dolphinia had ever seen one, and his interest in Dylan did reveal something important about what he wanted. “I can give you access to my club—to the people who come in here,” she said, and then she smiled sweetly before tapping a tooth with one of her long nails. And if Ondry wanted that access, he could pay.

Dolphinia might just introduce him to Kenny over at Black. That asshole didn’t teach his clients to respect submission. Dolphinia had some very unkind thought about what an angry Rownt might do if he realized that subs were abused in some places. Yes. This relationship had some fascinating possibilities.