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ANNOUNCEMENT: It’s a Whole New FemWorld – Sally Bend & M.C. Questgend

It's A Whole New FemWorld - Sally Bend & M.C. Questgend

QSFers Sally Bend & M.C. Questgend have a new trans sci fi erotica book out: “It’s A Whole New FemWorld.”

Another standalone story based on the “It’s a Whole New FemWorld” universe created by M.C. Questgend.

The war between the sexes has gone badly for men, especially those living outside the cities. Without the emotional balance and guiding hand of women, the rebel camps have become a dark, violent places where only the fittest survive and the meanest thrive.

A Quest for Balance is the story of two misfit soldiers – bullied, abused, and driven into the arms of the very women they’re supposed to be fighting against. In their training as submissive sissies they will find their purpose and friendship. Entrusted with a mission to retrieve evidence of a medical miracle, one that could rewrite everything we know about gender, they will discover that together they really can change the world . . . if only the women back home will let them.

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Billy couldn’t count how many camp laws he was breaking as he diverted from his mission and travel a few miles to the east to find a large tree near a dry creek bed. He sat nestled in the crook of the lightning-split tree. It hadn’t been easy to find, even with April’s directions, and even then, he’d given up on it twice, unable to find the entrance. It was only as the sun began to rise and cast a peculiar shadow in the bark that he finally found his way in.

The interior of the tree was warm and dry, carpeted in soft green moss. The tree was still alive, growing despite the split, and he couldn’t help but see meaning in that. Her bag had been hanging from a knot inside the tree, almost out of reach for him, which meant she must have had a way to knock it down.

Inside he’d found a treasure trove of contraband. There were black bras that still held the shape of the breasts they’d embraced last and matching high-cut panties. She’d left behind a pair of form-fitting denim jeans that felt too soft to be real and a trio of shirts – blouses he thought they were called – that were smooth as silk and yet tougher than leather. It was amazing stuff.

That wasn’t the half of it, though. The smell of the small blue perfume bottle he found nestled in an inside pocket was intoxicating, and the baby-powder scent of her antiperspirant – a rarity worth its weight in gold back at the camp – reminded him of happier, gentler times.

What captured his attention, though, was the trashy paperback romance novel sitting in the bottom of the bag and the half dozen chemical glow-sticks nestled alongside it. It had been years since he’d last seen a glow stick, and the idea of wasting one had left him wracked with guilt, but the temptation had been too much to ignore.

And that was why, when he should have been watching over the day’s shipment, he was sitting in the tree, wearing the clothes he should have destroyed and read her book. It was a harem romance that followed one young man caught between submissive love for the two women who owned him and romantic love for the boy eunuch who shared his bath on Mondays and Thursdays.

At first, it had just been the bra he fumbled his way into when he got to the chapter where the boys dressed each other after their bath, the pale eunuch licking and nibbling Steven’s nipples before helping him with his bra. It was the chapter where Charlie was summoned to assist with Steven’s first pegging, lubing his asshole with his tongue while Mistresses Elizabeth and Violet told them both how pretty they were, that undid him completely.

He’d stripped out of his old clothes, slipped into the panties, and nearly came on the spot. The blouse and jeans had never been part of the plan, but the chapter where their Mistresses permitted Steven to make love – not fuck, not violate, not abuse, but make love – to Charlie, had been too much. He knew that if he came, he would lose his nerve to finish the book, so he’d clothed himself in April’s armor . . . and left it on, having come to a decision after he cried over the happy ending.

First rubbing on the antiperspirant and dabbing a little of the perfume on his wrists, he packed everything back in the bag and laid it upon the bed of moss. He was about to douse it with the rest of the perfume and set it alight, to fulfill her final wishes, when he paused.

“April, I want to thank you. We barely knew one another and didn’t have nearly enough time together, but I think I found that purpose you spoke of.” He smoothed his hands down his chest, feeling the bra beneath his blouse. “I want what Steven had, and I can only hope to be found by a woman who’s as much Elizabeth or Violet as you.”

He crouched down, thrilling to the way the soft denim separated his ass cheeks and untied the bag. “I am going to return to the city and tell them your story. I will give myself freely to whoever captures me, but I will beg them permission to share news of your fate with your wife and your boys.”

With trembling fingers, he pulled the paperback out of the bag, opened it to the first page, and traced the handwritten inscription with his finger.

To my dearest, April
My light
My love
My wife
May this story remind you of home
Until you return to ours
Yours, Brenda

“I will carry this with me as proof of our meeting,” he whispered, “and see to it that your memories make it home.”

Author Bio

Sally Bend is an author, editor, columnist, and reviewer. Although shy and polite (she is, after all, Canadian), she loves to boldly and boisterously express herself through stories that bend the binaries of gender and sexuality.

Her fiction incorporates a wide range of styles, from dark horror to quirky erotica, with her favorite themes being the acceptance of gender identity and the exploration of submissive sexuality.

When she’s not reading, writing, or wandering the forest, she can be found online at

M.C. Questgend is a relatively new author who has transferred the stress of his childhood and failed marriages to the pen and keyboard. Very shy Texan, M.C. is a bit of a romantic, but brings a sense of realism to a world that is often looked at as nothing more than sexual perversion.

Writing erotic stories – some loosely based on his and “her” life as well as stories involving aspects of the LGBT community, a community and lifestyle he has come to privately embrace. The intent was to write stories that entertain, inspire and motivate – which are as much sensual and heartwarming as they are sexual and explicit.

When M.C. is rarely away from the keyboard, reading, writing or working a job that pays the bills, “she” can be found online at

Note: quotation marks around pronouns above are as provided by the author.

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