I’m so excited about the novella I’ve been working on! Ring My Bell: A Lesbian Fantasy Romance Emeto Erotica
Elara, a talented weaver in a small village, stumbled across a patch of watermelons owned by the Fairie Queen. Mistaking it for an abandoned patch, she eats one…only to be cursed by the angry Queen.
Soreen, the local blacksmith, meets Elara while on a quest for a new outfit to replace her favorite one, which is growing threadbare.
When Soreen returns to find Elara moaning with a belly swollen large by the curse, she rushes to help her.. just in time to hold her and comfort her while she retches helplessly, vomiting watermelon from her engorged gut. This is the curse Elara must suffer again and again as punishment for her watermelon theft.
I’m in the last stages of editing the story and so excited to release it next week!
To help you get as excited as I am, here’s a sneak preview from Ring My Bell: A Lesbian Fantasy Romance Emeto Erotica:
Outside, they moved quickly down the alley beside the shop, out of sight from the main road. Elara was already beginning to swell, her hands clutching her belly as the cursed transformation took hold. The pain was sharp and immediate, and she bit back a cry as the pressure intensified.
Soreen glanced around, making sure no one was nearby. With surprising grace and ease, she positioned herself between Elara and the street, using her tall frame to shield Elara from view. “It’s okay, Elara,” she said in a low, soothing voice. “You’re safe. Just breathe.”
Elara doubled over, her arms wrapped tightly around her distended belly as the stretching, cramping pain caused her body to curl around her hard, round belly. Soreen’s firm but gentle hands grasped her shoulders, protecting her from falling over as she swayed precariously. The comforting warmth of Soreen’s breath danced across Elara’s ear, carrying soft reassurances that everything would be alright.
Elara could only nod, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as the curse continued to ravage her. The pressure built to unbearable levels, and just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, the nausea hit. Soreen was ready, supporting Elara with an arm around her chest and a hand on her forehead as she leaned over, alternating between belching and retching.
The watermelon juice poured from Elara’s mouth again, the second time in less than an hour. It gushed out like a bubbling river of agony and splashed on the cobblestones at Elara’s feet. Soreen never let go of Elara’s bucking and writhing body.
The alley was quiet, hidden from prying eyes, and Soreen did everything she could to comfort Elara through the ordeal. She held Elara’s hair back, murmuring soft reassurances, and kept a vigilant watch for any passersby. Unsure how to relieve Elara’s suffering, Soreen put one calloused hand on the weaver’s belly and was shocked to feel the power of the sickening contractions in her belly, her globe of a stomach twisting and wringing so hard under her hand
When it was over, Elara collapsed against Soreen, her energy spent. Soreen held her close, her expression a mix of concern and determination. “We need to figure this out, Elara. This can’t keep happening.”
Elara nodded weakly, grateful beyond words for Soreen’s quick thinking. “Thank you… again,” she whispered, her voice trembling with exhaustion.
Soreen helped her straighten up, her hands gentle but firm. “You don’t have to face this alone. We’ll find a way to break this curse. I promise.”
Elara looked up at Soreen, the sincerity in her words offering a glimmer of hope. “I believe you,” she said softly.