Let’s be honest with ourselves, we knew this was going to happen. We’re a chaotic group of people.

Timeline/World: Darkness of Space – Bird Harem
Current Date: July 12, 4023

Character: Noah Jans
Race: Demon – Sex
Age: 37, physically about 20
Current residence: Red Belt Asteroid
 

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When a building that is so close to yours gets condemned and the workers scattered to the nearby businesses—we nearly had to take one of them in, but they were so different from anything we’d ever known, didn’t fit the bill with any of the birds we could have found for them, and all of our rooms were in use anyway—you find yourself at least a little interested in what’s going on.

I’m not going to lie, none of us saw the event that triggered the close-down, but we heard the sirens. Most of us ignored them because, well, sirens in this part, are not common but they’re not an unknown. What roused most of us from our day-sleep, I think, since this was during our off hours, was the fact that the sirens were just so ridiculously loud, thus, close.

Not that we all rushed to the windows to have a look, none of us actually did, mostly since only one side of the building has windows and that’s the front. That tends to happen when you’ve got buildings sandwiched together on all three of their four sides. It’s grand. Not that I mind. Anyway.

No, we learned more details about what had happened with the whole thing when they covered the thing in the paper that gets dropped for the building—that paper is usually for the clients to peruse while they wait for us to be free just before their appointments. Watching whatever it was about on the news would have been useless, that news channel isn’t even really a news channel, it tends to be a sort of search channel where people can locate the one house they’re looking for and find out more about their hours and their workers. It’s more or less the only open channel that anyone has access to while on this asteroid.

There wasn’t all that much to learn about, not from what I’ve read of it. A group of workers who’d only recently started working for that particular house had decided that playing a prank on another nearby house—the one they’d been removed from, so stated the paper—as some form of payment or whatever it was that the paper stated. I only caught what little was being read out loud by Macaw.

They made a statement about how it was inevitable that this would happen, they were a chaotic group of people, and their new boss should have known better than to give them rooms close to one another and make them all work the exact same hours.

That screams worker red flag to me. I don’t care how close you are to the people you work with, it’s not because the lot of you can’t control yourselves when you’re together that your place of employment—which, I’m aware, not everyone is doing this job out of choice—has to pay the price for that childishness. Because that’s not being chaotic, not as far as I’m concerned. It’s being immature.

Then again, I’m not my own boss. I’ll never be my own boss and I’ll never run my own house, so I’m sure that there’s plenty I don’t know about these things, and I could possibly be wrong, but I’ve been here long enough that I feel as though I have a good idea of what possibly makes a good working environment or not.

It’s hard to know if the building is ever going to be opened again. As far as anyone is aware, the place is fairly charred in spots inside and we’re lucky that other buildings haven’t gotten damaged during the fire. Then again, most buildings out here are meant to handle that kind of thing, at least from the outside, the materials used are supposed to help with that. Our own building has a surprisingly up-to-date sprinkler system too and I know how well it works, I should know.

One slightly charred protein some years back and we all got soaked. Thankfully, turning the system off was easy and it hadn’t been during working hours, so no guest got to witness the whole thing. Sure, we had to work our arses off to make sure that everything was clean, dry, and as pristine as it ever should be but that’s just one of those things, too. It was a good lesson in making sure we use the kitchen as we should and that we keep an eye on our food as it’s being prepared.

They might get the building repaired but considering the damage the paper states it has sustained; I don’t know if the current owner is going to want to bother with it. I guess that time will tell.

Final Word Count: 789

Should you really be encouraging me when I say I’m going to conquer the world?

 
Timeline/World: Darkness of Space – Bird Harem
Characters: Noah Jans
Race: Demon – Sex
Age: 36, physically about 20
Current residence: Red Belt Asteroid
Final Word Count: 752 words
 

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Clients come and go. I could make a clever little pun out of that, and it would get everyone groaning and that would get the ball rolling but I won’t. I honestly think that the pun in question isn’t overly clever, and it’s just overused, and I don’t care much for it. It just slips now and again but I think that this so happens to be one of those things. I do live in a whore house, after all. Sex puns will happen whether we like it or not.

Do you know what I think would be dreadfully boring? The same clients over and over and over again. I’m not saying that I don’t want some regulars, those are fine, but if all I had were regulars, I think I would be bored to tears. Not bored with the sex, my nature makes that near impossible, but I would be bored with the same kind of sex all of the time.

In a way, I suppose that would make me a terrible partner, wouldn’t it? If I was something other than a whore? I’d like to think it would be different. I’d like to think that if I were to find just that one person that honestly does make my heart flutter in a good way, I could easily be happy with having sex just with them. As I’ve never had that before in my life, however, I can neither confirm nor deny that point.

As it so happens, we do get all sorts of interesting and, less so interesting people who come for our services. Some are just so vanilla that all you can do is bend over and let them take their pleasure and leave. They only need a bit of so-called spice in their lives and going to have sex with a whore is exactly what they’ll go for. Even if that sex is boring and not-quite missionary. Most of the vanilla men who come here prefer to not even really look at us, thus this thing with us on our chests and them just taking what they want. They rarely last long and that’s that. They might have paid for the hour, but they never stay much after the moment they’re done.

They’d do better with androids, I feel like. Or even just sex toys. But that wouldn’t be vanilla now, would it?

Some of the others are much more interesting, though. They’ll chat about what they’re about or what their big plans for the upcoming future are, it’s always a little interesting to at least hear a bit about these people. Some have plans that would be so much better left unheard, but it isn’t as though I’m about to go and gossip about my clients on a street corner.

One recent client was a bored young man with more credits to his name and he knew what to do with. He spoke plenty about the potential of just taking over the whole world. It was the rambling of a bored person, and I didn’t pay them much mind. I might have even playfully encouraged him. He gave me this look, a grin tugging at his lips, telling me that maybe I shouldn’t be encouraging him as he talks about conquering the world. I might have just given him a shrug and an amused smile. What else could you expect from me?

And hey, it actually got him feeling playful and that added a little something because I was so sure he’d just end up being plain of vanilla when I saw him step into my room. A bored soul just looking for a little something to unbore himself. I was glad I pushed him a little, it was a fairly tantalizing hour, and, by the end, I did wish that he’d paid for another hour because I could have kept on going.

It’s rare that I’m enjoying myself enough to care for more than the time the client has bought but, now and again, there will just be that one special person that, while yes, they’re here to enjoy themselves, will make sure that you enjoy yourself too. They’re so rare that I feel like it’s a bit of a treat when I do see them coming up to my door. I don’t know how else to really put it at this point. Sex becomes boring when it all ends up being the same, so something a little more now and again? I won’t say no.

Sometimes I swear you know what I want, but you do the exact opposite to make me angry.

 
Timeline/World: Darkness of Space – Bird Harem
Characters: Noah Jans
Race: Demon – Sex
Age: 34, physically about 20
Final Word Count: 682 words
 

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Some clients are just so easy to rile up. At times, I’m not even really sure why I do it, besides the fact that I can. Of course, I don’t do it with all of them, I’m more than a little aware that some of these clients are the get in, fuck, get out type and anything that might distract them would be a problem for me. We can’t have that. I’d like to remain in one piece and taunting clients until they get a little rough is something I’m not interested in; I don’t think anyone in the bird house is interested in that, not really.

With certain clients, though, I just can’t help it. Fabian is one particular client I do this with almost every time he comes. Now, if he were here to see me every other day, or even every other week, I wouldn’t do this to him; he would pick up on it and he’d realize what I’m doing but as he’s around these parts at most once every other or three months, I delight in frustrating him until he finally decides to just take what he wants. That’s when I can enjoy myself at least a little. He’s so meek and uncertain otherwise that he’s constantly asking me the usual frustrating questions that neither one of us can get anywhere.

‘Is this okay?’, ‘Should I change the angle?’, ‘Did I go in too fast?’, these types of questions, the types of questions someone who seems to think that they need constant hand-holding during sex would ask. Questions I’d rather not be hearing about if I can help it because he’s been coming here for about three years at this point and his technique, when he forgets to fret about everything else, is wonderful. The guy is sized just damned right to hit all the sweet spots and now and again, I can tempt him into receiving and man, he begs so sweetly.

So yes, pretty much every time he comes to my room, I’ll push him a little, just enough of a nudge to particular buttons to get him to let go. He’ll always give me this exasperated sigh as he starts grumbling a little. He’ll tell me that at times, he swears he knows exactly what he wants but I’ll do the exact opposite to make him angry. He’s right, of course, but I’m not about to tell him that much, it would ruin the little dynamic of our relationship in bed.

I mean, just last time, he seemed even meeker than usual but I also hadn’t seen him in almost five months. I know that the woman he’s with is a bit overbearing and his coming here usually means he’s reached a sort of breaking point and he needs an outlet. It’s another one of the reasons why I push him the way I do. I think his wife is such a stupidly delicate flower that he’s constantly walking on eggshells. The thing is, I think I’ve come across that woman once while I was out there helping with our shopping and while she might physically be a delicate little flower, she has a temper and I can understand why he acts the way he does.

Will I ever change our routine? It’s unlikely. He needs someone to make him at least angry enough to take control of things for a while and if sex with a prostitute is the only thing he can control, it still will be something; it’s better than nothing at all. Do I wish he would come more often so I could enjoy the bit of semi-demanding sex out of him? Yes and no. I don’t think I could keep playing the ‘make-Fabian-angry’ game, if he came any more often than he does now. That’s the one thing that makes this a shame but at the same time, not really. I know I’m an outlet for him and as someone who has pretty much been a whore all of his life, I’m fine with that.

I like to think that I’ve finally risen above you.

 
Timeline/World: Darkness of Space – Bird Harem
Characters: Noah Jans
Race: Demon – Sex
Age: 33, physically about 20
Final Word Count: 545 words
 

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“Said the whore.”

“If you’re trying to hurt my feelings, you’re going about it all wrong.” He laughed softly and shook his head. He knew what he was. He was a whore, it was that simple, a prostitute. Someone paid to have sex with others. He wasn’t going to deny it. Plus, it did settle his cravings now and again. At times, he wondered if they weren’t all part incubi. It certainly would explain though none of them actually fed on the sexual energy, they just were good at it and craved it.

He wiggled a little, grinning at the gasp he pulled from the man who was, at this current point in time, beneath him. It had been what had prompted the statement. “Are you going to lay there and make me do all the work? I get that it’s your money but I thought you liked to be in control.”

The words were a low tease but they had the expected effect on his current client. He gasped a startled laugh when he was rolled over. Not only was he now no longer above this one, but he was also being playfully manhandled until he was on his chest. He had to keep himself from grinning as he wiggled and play-fought, aware that this was more or less what seemed to turn this one client on.

Each and every single one of their clients was different. Not two of them liked things done the exact same way and when he’d first started, he’d been terrified that he would mess up with one while trying to recall what another liked. As it turned out, it was easy and simple. It was simply a matter of letting the clients lead them, for the most part.

Not all of his clients liked to take the lead and he didn’t mind doing that when it was time but it was so rare. Most of those particular clients tended to stick to the taller, bigger whores. So many of them went for Macaw, for one thing. If only they knew just what did it for their tall companion, they’d go elsewhere, he was sure.

Not that it was his place to tell anyone how to do anything. What they did during their work hours was just that, work. What they were up to during their off time was something else entirely and that was where the real pleasure—most of the time—happened. Oh, how he loved his time off, all of the little things he could turn his attention to and certainly most of them not about sex, though there usually was some of that mixed up in there.

For now, well now he’d focus on the man behind him, on the man who was paying for his time. A man who liked to roleplay little scenes every time he came. That wasn’t so bad most of the time. The scenes were innocent enough that he could get into them easily enough. Though, as a tease, he liked to deviate in little ways, it seemed to heighten things for both of them. It always made it interesting and he’d never heard any complaints when all was said and done.

Why fix something if it wasn’t broken?

I always feel dread in my stomach when I see you plotting.

Timeline/World: Darkness of Space – Bird Harem
Characters: Noah Jans
Race: Demon – Sex
Age: 32, physically about 20
Final Word Count: 532 words

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Not one of us has ever liked our old keeper. He was here because he had no choice, he hated it, rarely was out of his room and when he was, we were all better off keeping pretty far away because he tended to plot away evil little scheme that would get in extra money that he could keep for himself and those things never ended well.

One of the last little schemes he thought up before the place landed in Sal’s hands—and that changed our lives, let me tell you—was something about pairing us in the most unexpected ways possible and let clients either just watch or participate. One of these particular pairings he was ‘dreaming up’ so happened to be Macaw and Hummingbird. They both told him very loudly he was crazy and we had to pile up on Macaw to keep him from maiming the guy.

It’s hard to know what was the worst: always being on our own with an invisible keeper or facing the wicked ideas he could come up with. I’m pretty sure that this is an opinion that teeters on the edge around the others, some didn’t care if he plotted, it rarely had anything to do with them, others weren’t comfortable with us essentially being without someone to keep track of the clients and keep us safe if something ever were to happen.

With him rarely even keeping track of us, I think we could have all stopped working and he wouldn’t even have noticed it until far too late. It happened in a way with one. He was manhandled so roughly by a client that he couldn’t even get out of bed for a full week, even just to make it to the bathroom and it’s only because our then keeper came out of his room with a new and twisted idea that he realized we were one short. It pissed him off, he went on a rampage and this time, most of us didn’t feel like holding Macaw back.

There was no bloodshed, mind you. Macaw is tall and imposing, he’s protective of us all but he’s an absolutely gentle spirit. He’d rather just stand there and glare until you get the message than raise his hand in violence; it’s just not in him. He knows it would be an unfair advantage. I’m glad he’s my friend because violent or not, I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of his anger.

We were all confused but relieved when Sal took over. The whole building used as a payment or something, it was sad. It was heartbreaking that the owner, not the man who kept watch over us, would do this, we’d all believed he did like us, never would have turned to doing this but he did and while it was a frightening change in our lives, it turned out to be for the better. We now have a once over every six months or so, we have better food, the clients are better behaved though some are still little shits and just, all in all, this is a good life, despite what we do for a living.

Dreams

Timeline/World: Darkness of Space – Bird Harem
Characters: Noah Jans aka Mountain Bluebird
Race: Demon – Sex
Age: 31, physically closer to 20
Final Word Count: 525 words

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I’ve read, in an old book that I cannot even read the print date on, it is so worn, that demons are spawn of the devil and hell and do not dream.

At first, when I saw that, I was outraged, more at the fact that we’re somehow from hell over anything else but I let it be. It was an old book, with old beliefs though I’m sure someone out there still believes that all demons are bad, evil, terrible and man-eaters who come from hell, have no soul and don’t dream. Wherever hell is.

I can’t argue on the man-eater part. I’ve seen it before, it wasn’t a pleasant sight but one has to do what one must to survive. Living here, it’s not an issue however. We feed ourselves with the food we buy from the market, we discuss, we laugh together, we dream, we live. We’re not evil creature from some mythical place in some other dimension that was created to put fears in people.

It hardly matters at this point though. That book, I’ve only read it once and never again, that’s for the better. I didn’t get rid of it. I only brought it back to Sal to let him know it likely wasn’t very good reading for the likes of us and he took care of it. I guess that’s part of his job description, keeping us happy.

Our old keeper wouldn’t have bothered and I wouldn’t have actually brought it up to the guy but Sal is different and we all love him for this.

If nothing else, to prove that stupid book wrong, is the fact that I do dream, every day since I work at night. Now and again the dreams are somewhat dark but after spending hours at the sexual whims of wealthy men, I suppose that was inevitable but most of the time it’s different. Most of the time the dreams are soothing, as though my brain knows that I need a break from my life, that I need something to tell all of me to let go of the brothel for a few hours while I rest.

Some of the dreams leave a mark more than others and I note those down in a small journal. I know I’m not the only one who does it, I think it helps us keep going. Not that our life is bad, far from, especially now that we have Sal to take care of us but it gives us something else to do. Sure, we now have more things to keep busy with than ever before, a bit more freedom as to when we step out and when we come in, so long as we’re there for our shifts, but the life still is a little redundant.

So writing down dreams and reading them later on, trying to recall them a bit, it helps. I’ve even started experimenting a little with lucid dreaming and let me tell you, that’s something else entirely. It’s a little frightening at the start but if I can get better at it, I think I can do really great things.