WBDaddy

Fascinating chapter. But I can't help but wonder why she'd pick someone who is obviously being abusive to try and experience "love"...

Chapter 3 will be coming on Monday.

Exactly

I guess what I'm trying to say here is the DD canon does not address this, and therefore the author cannot be wrong for how he interprets it.

Did you consider maybe a parent died or committed a crime or something like that?

These first two chapters are short montage-type pieces to build background in a compressed word count. The action will pick up very quickly starting with the next installment.

Well thank you. Not sure how I missed this reply. 2 “You look exhausted, Penny. Come in and sit down.” Delia’s smiling face at the door was a welcome sight for Penny. She felt stupid, childish, inadequate for coming here, but it was always a place of respite, and she needed respite badly. “Thanks Dee. I’m just… I’m so frustrated right now.” Delia stepped aside, and Penny walked into the spacious front room and collapsed on the couch. The place was a palace compared to Penny’s ratty studio ten blocks away, but more importantly it felt much more like home. “Job search not going well?” Delia called from the kitchenette. “It’s ridiculous. I go in, I fill out the application, and as soon as they see how old I am, they’re like ‘we’ll call you’, in that way that you know they’re not going to. My feet are so sore, you have no idea, I’ve been walking like miles every day. For NOTHING!” “Well, not for nothing. You’re certainly finding out who the assholes are. How are you handling your bills?” “It’s not good, Dee. Not like I had a lot of savings anyway, but I won’t last another month if I can’t find work.” Delia came out with two cups of steaming hot tea. She made the best tea. Having her own rooftop herb farm probably helped. “You know my spare bedroom is open if you need it, sweetie.” “I’ve already leeched off you enough, Dee! God, you put me up for like six months when my parents kicked me out.” Coming out to her parents was the biggest mistake of her life. All she wanted was them off her back about finding a husband, and all it got her was a screaming match and her clothes and personal belongings bagged up and thrown into the street. Delia sat down next to her and set the teacups on the coffee table. “Penelope, I told you then and I’ll tell you now, I was lucky. I was always a Barren, so doors were open to me that weren’t for women like you. You weren’t leeching, I was sharing my good fortune, and I’ll continue to do so as long as you or any other friend needs it. I won’t have one of my friends be homeless when I have the means to do something about it.” Delia had made a good life for herself as a private chef for the upper-class, working in houses Penny had only ever heard about, never seen. The kind of life Penny wanted for herself, not the struggle she had now. “I’m sorry, okay. I just… why did I have to be like this? Why’d God make me lesbian AND fertile? Did he hate me? Did he hate my parents?” Delia’s arm wrapped around her shoulder, a needed comfort at that moment. “Stop it, Penny. There’s nothing wrong with you, and if there’s a God, he hates everybody, and the damned Christian Coalition is proof of it. So don’t even start that.” Penny hung her head. In a way, hanging on to the idea of a benevolent God was like a security blanket for her, that somewhere in this fucked up universe was someone who actually cared for people and loved them unconditionally. But Delia was right; his self-appointed representatives now running the government certainly didn’t do any of that. “Tony gave me a number. Said the guy could get me sticks.” “Penelope! Don’t you dare speak of such things here. Not even in passing, you hear me?!” “But Dee, if I’m not making eggs anymore, I can go to school, or work a real job somewhere, be my own woman, and no one will care if I don’t get married at that point. I’ll be free, like you are!” Dee turned and took both Penny’s hands, squeezing them gently. “Penny, if you go down that path, you’re going down it alone. I can’t help you. If you get caught with those, and you’re living here, they’ll assume I did it to myself too and helped you get them. We’ll both spend the rest of our lives in the labor camps. I love you, but you need to think long and hard before you step out onto that cliff.” With that, the older woman pulled her into a hug. “I know you’re willing to support me, Dee. But if I can’t find work, what good am I to you or anyone else? I don’t want to just live off you for the next twenty years while I wait for menopause!” “Well,” Dee’s voice took on a decidedly seductive tone. “Maybe I’ll put you to work as my housekeeper? Get you one of those skimpy French maid costumes, let you shake that cute little tush around while you dust and vacuum and load the dishwasher?” Penny offered a sly grin. “But how will I get my chores done with you chasing me all over the house?” “Well, I do have to go to work during the day. You’ll just have to stay in uniform until I’ve had a chance to inspect your work when I get home. Rowr!” The two friends had a good laugh together. A few cups of tea and a little of Delia’s home-brew herbal smoke later, and Penny got the release she really needed when she arrived at Delia’s door. Later, as they lay there naked in each other’s arms, Delia whispered, “I know you’re determined to go find work, but that housekeeper offer stands.” Penny, exhausted and glowing, whispered back, “Thank you, Dee. But you know why I have to try to make my own way.” “If anyone is not willing to work, let him not eat. I get it, Penny. I really do. Just don’t do anything stupid because you’re too proud to accept help.”

This is that Connor MacLeod thing I was talking about earlier, and I absolutely love how Mr. Lemon is leaning into this component.

TBT - I've only ever seen people explore the insides of the fabled robot daycares in most stories (mostly because there seems to be a serious sub-kink of robot babying that fuels these explorations). Etiquette schools seem to be mostly the subject of urban legend and hushed whispers in most DD stories.

Nah, there's no self-insertion here for the author. None at all...

Thanks. It was a quality behind-the-scenes discussion that gave this thing momentum. I like working with clients who are willing to collaborate with me on shaping an idea until it works for both of us.

Hey everyone, finally getting the time to write again. This is a commissioned short story, though as discussions continue in the background, the plot is getting deeper and more complex than our originally planned 10 chapters will allow for, so who knows when it’ll be done. Insert obligatory mention of my Patreon here… Anyway, have fun with this one. There’s a little inspiration coming from The Handmaid’s Tale, except without all the rapey murdery stuff. Fear gripped Penelope Russo as she stared at the paper on the wall. Seven years she worked at Donatello, never missing a shift, always coming in to cover other people, and her name wasn’t even on the new schedule for next week. Since the day she graduated high school, she’d waited tables there, while other girls came and went. How could this even be happening?! “Tony wants to see you in his office, Penny.” Jacky Phillips tapped her on the shoulder, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. The girl was barely twenty, but they became fast friends when Jacky started working there. Well, more than friends on occasion… friends with benefits? But that was behind tightly closed doors, not spoken of at work or anywhere else. The look on Jacky’s face confirmed what Penny already feared; this wasn’t going to be a good conversation. Jacky gave her a quick hug. “Good luck, hun.” “Yeah, thanks.” Dejected, she walked through the kitchen, up the stairs, and knocked on the general manager’s door. “Come in!” the low voice boomed behind the door, with that signature Jersey-Italian accent thick through it. She opened the door and stepped inside. “Penny.” He shook his head. “Penny, Penny, Penny, what am I gonna do wit’ you?” “Tony, please, you can’t…” “Look, you’re a hard worker. You’re polite. You make sure everyone’s drink is full and their food gets out hot. But I’ve told you over and over, the guys have expectations. Parents bring their boys in here looking to get them hooked up. You know this. I know this. And the big boss knows it too, and he says I gotta let you go, because you won’t do it.” “But Tony!” “You need a man, Penny. You need to be home making babies for your man. Not here turning into an old spinster. The customers complain, they want their waitresses to be friendly. And young. And the girls, they flirt until they find a guy that clicks, and boom, I’m hiring a new one because she went off and got hitched.” “Spinster, Tony! I’m twenty five, not fifty!” “When did I hire you, Penny? You were eighteen. Most of these girls that I hire, they’re fifteen, sixteen. That’s what the customers want to see, young girls they can pair up with their teenage sons to make grandchildren for them.” “But Tony…” “Penny, look, I know what you are. Don’t worry, my lips are sealed. But it’s not my world, Penny. I just gotta live in it. Back in my grandfather’s day, no one would even blink over someone like you, but since the religious kooks took over, I mean, what’re you gonna do?” Penny struggled not to cry as Tony’s words cut through her. All throughout school, she and every other girl was drilled about how the most noble profession and honorable profession for women was being a mother and wife. Only the Barren went to work, because the fertile were needed to keep the population growing. But as much as she tried to like boys, or at least to tolerate them, she lusted after other girls. Boys, they just wanted to squash her tits with their meat-hooks and then hump her like a dog until they were spent. Girls went out of their way to make her feel good, touch all her special places the way she’d touch herself when she thought about them. The dirty, dirty thoughts she had. And she hated herself for it. “I just… what am I gonna do, Tony? As long as I’m making eggs, they won’t let me work in the factories or go to college or anything! This is all I got!” “I wish it didn’t have to be like this, Penny. Maybe try being nicer to the boys at another place? Maybe suck it up and get hitched what they expect of you? I don’t know. Maybe…” He leaned over and got much, much quieter. “Maybe I know a guy. Maybe he can get you some of those sticks, you know what I’m saying? Maybe you make a phone call or somethin’.” He slid a piece of paper across the desk with a phone number on it. Penny shuddered, but took the piece of paper and slipped it into her purse. One of her “girlfriends” in high school tried to get hold of the “egg-breaker sticks” - injections you could take that would turn you up as infertile when you went to the clinic to get harvested every month. But they were as illegal as heroin and cocaine. A cop showed up for her at school not long after that, and no one ever saw her again. “Th… thanks Tony.” She hung her head, and he stood up. “I wish you luck Penny. You’re a good kid. Take care of yourself, huh?” She stood up as well, taking his outstretched hand and shaking it weakly. “I’ll have your last check ready for you on Friday, okay?” “Sure.” “Hey. Maybe… maybe in a few months, I might be needing a front of the house manager, eh?” Her mind reeling, Penny trudged back down the steps and out the back door, speaking to no one on the way. Tony’s words burned at the back of her brain. Why? Why’d she have to like girls? Why couldn’t she just be normal and find a husband and have a happy life surrounded by kids? It would have been so much easier than what she’d been through since high school. She thought about the phone number he gave her. God, if she got caught, she’d wind up disappeared like that kid Sarah! But if she didn’t get caught, that was her golden ticket! All she needed was to turn up empty at the fertility clinic three months in a row, and she’d be reclassified as a Barren. No more pressure to get married, no more being a waitress and getting groped by horny teenage boys while their parents laughed about it. She and her little circle of special friends would still have to keep quiet about their little get-togethers, but no one really cared about what Barrens did with their free time. It was only illegal for boys - If a man lie with a man as a woman, it is an abomination, was how the verse went. Girls, well, society thought it was shameful, but the Coalition couldn’t find any biblical justification to outlaw it. But first she had to at least try to find another job. Even if she could get the sticks, she had to keep her rent up long enough to make it three months…

Right?

Molicare, before they stopped making the purple plastic-backed diapers, were really great in terms of capacity.

Meh. I was here before that rep point thing started, I'm still here after they got rid of it, and no fucks were given either way. Not like anyone ever lorded it over anyone else in an argument, as if it was some sort of badge.

Seems that way. I used to have positive rep.

Oh come on, now, I'm sure our author wouldn't stoop to borrowing a beat from "Chasing Emily".

Yes, this seems more like a delay of the inevitable conflict, rather than a resolution of it. Emily waking up hung over, realizing what happened last night, that Sheila watched her change her clothes and gave her her stuffy, which certainly points to Joyce instructing her on what to do. This definitely isn't over. Or at least I'll be surprised if it is... Also, all of Joyce's hemming and hawwing over introducing babyish items at bedtime like this? Not to mention a non-zero chance of Emily waking up soggy. Which would cause a whole OTHER set of issues...

What I recommend to anyone who feels like they're struggling with dialog (you indicated that the formality for you was more about implying they were speaking in Spanish, so that's okay) is to read it aloud. Does it sound like something you'd say in a casual conversation? Think about how you'd say it. Write that.

I understand the compulsion to narrate us through the entirety of the trip (I get stuck on this myself sometimes), day after day, but it's a worthwhile choice to move forward with "the next (x number of days) was more of the same..." then get to something different.

Maybe I didn't communicate it well enough. I'm sorry. I'm not saying everything has to be edgy or dark. It was just three or four straight chapters here where there was no tension at all, and it felt strange to me.

As a mod, there was a point I was genuinely worried the site was going down. I feel confident we're past that, especially with the continued outpouring of support from the folks who have stuck around, not to mention the Admin's smart decision to move the Donor's Lounge to an actual Patreon site, which definitely drove up donations. DD has a lot more revenue streams than ABDLSF, which keeps it stable. So when there's a big personality kerfluffle over here, it's hardly a blip. A server crash or a hack or something like that is what it takes to really affect everyone.

I'm conflicted, I gotta be honest. The story you've framed here is really cool. And the plot, at an executive level, is really pretty good. I know everyone's loving all the super-sweet stuff that's been happening in the last few chapters, but for me it feels like there are three primary arcs, and the first two are jam-packed full of tension, and this last one there's none at all. Even the scene with the "Karen" at the restaurant was zero-tension, because everyone else in the restaurant shouted her down so fast she was completely out of the picture. I'm looking forward to some real, tangible tension in future installments, I guess is what I'm saying. Even if it's just interpersonal tension between Liv and Charlie, or Liv and any one of the other members of the growing cast of characters involved here. Give me that push against the pull of the happy backdrop. The happy feels much happier when it's contrasted with sadness/anger/fear/other bad feelings, right? I could tell how excited you were to make it to this section of the story based on your commentary earlier, and I'm definitely feeling how much you enjoyed writing all the joy and the happy surprises and the opulence and such. It's tangible, for sure. Don't feel like I'm hammering you too hard, and definitely don't feel like you're inadequate as a writer, it's just my curmudgeonly critique of the direction.

When I want thoughtful, in-depth critique, I post there. When I just want to share for maximal reach for people's enjoyment, I post here. Usually I post in both places anyway, but I know when I look at the given thread what I can expect in terms of reactions.

OK, another party I joined late. I was skeptical when you posted the first chapter weeks ago, because I'm generally not much for magic in a story, as it usually just serves as a pretense to self-justify plot movements that have no explanation. But I was wrong to make such a snap judgment. You've really, really done a great job, via scene-cuts between past and present, of building out [[Witch]] as a very three-dimensional, relatable being, part Connor MacLeod, part Bruce Banner, part Billy Maximoff. I'm impressed, intrigued, and can hardly wait to read more.