Previously…
Previously in Realm of the Profane: House of Dragons
It started with a trip—a literal one. Laura and Georgie, two best friends and lovers with a taste for adventure and trouble, found themselves pitched from their mundane lives into a world that felt like the love child of Skyrim, Lord of the Rings, and The Wizard of Oz after a debauched, week-long rave. Colors were brighter, magic was law, and everything—absolutely everything—seemed to want a taste of them.
What was supposed to be a mind-bending DMT experiment became a madcap quest through the most erotic, chaotic, and flat-out bizarre dimension ever dreamt up by a god with a sense of humor. Guided (and sometimes trolled) by an ancient, pervy tree who claimed to know all, they soon learned that “home” was not a place you could simply wish yourself back to—not without paying a price and collecting the right… keys.
Teaming up with Orin, an elf whose pranks and appetites were only outmatched by his bad luck, they braved side quests that would put any fantasy hero to shame. There were talking fish that gave toe jobs, windchime moaning villages where synchronized masturbation was a public service, wizards who came out of their wands, and mountain people addicted to self-pleasure.
But the wildest ride of all was in the House of Dragons, a living castle pulsing with heat, desire, and too many secrets. There, the girls survived a trial by truth, a storm of fire-breathing orgasms, and a drunken elven invasion that turned the royal banquet into a technicolor orgy—complete with elves climbing into dragons and pyrotechnics that left half the castle in ruins. Through chaos and pleasure, surrender and laughter, Laura and Georgie proved themselves worthy of the first “key”—and maybe a few magical scars.
They staggered out of the House of Dragons changed: stickier, happier, less certain of reality, and more certain of each other. The tree (never far when something interesting was about to happen) reminded them: “Every key unlocks something inside you. Don’t forget to enjoy the ride, even if you’re covered in more dragon juice than dignity.”
Joined by a new, irrepressible elf, the party set off toward the next great mystery, with the sun rising and the next realm already calling their names.
Now… In Realm of the Profane: The Pixie Forest
As dawn breaks over the wild landscape, the world grows even stranger. The grass is impossibly green, pulsing with veins of magic. Mushrooms as big as beds sprout everywhere, some blowing kisses, some giggling among themselves. The air buzzes with the hum of wings and the sweet-sour scent of wild nectar.
“Welcome to the Pixie Forest!” Orin declares, brandishing his sausage necklace and looking slightly hungover. “Rule number one: Don’t eat anything unless it begs you. Rule number two: Never accept a bet from a pixie.”
No sooner are the words out than a swarm of naked, iridescent pixies descends, dusting the travelers in sparkling powder and laughter. The effect is immediate—nipples harden, toes curl, hair braids itself into flower chains, and every step feels like an invitation to lose control.
One pixie, grinning beneath a crooked crown of acorn caps, lands on Laura’s shoulder. “You’re here for the next key, aren’t you? Good luck! You’ll need more than courage—you’ll need pleasure, honesty, and maybe a little shame left behind in the last realm.”
The forest itself seems to watch, breathing and waiting. Flowers pulse, vines wriggle, and somewhere, far away, the tree’s voice rumbles: “Go on, then! Don’t be shy! The Profane’s just getting started.”
Hand in hand—hearts pounding, senses buzzing—Laura, Georgie, Orin, and their new elven friend step forward into the forest, ready to chase pleasure, chaos, and the next secret that might get them home.
But in the Realm of the Profane, “home” is always stranger, and the only way out is through.
Book Two: The Pixie Forest
Let the ecstasy and madness begin…
