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The winner of Circlet Press’s 2012 “Fantastic Erotica” award, Ota Discovers Fire is a cliché-busting fantasy tale of magic, kinky sex, and witty dialogue.
The story follows Ota, a novice fire magician with no wilderness survival skills, who is traveling through the forest to reach his relatives in Ivy City. His journey is enlivened when he comes across a girl who claims to be able to turn herself into a wolf, and when she agrees to guide and protect him… for a price. As with all of Vinnie Tesla’s Circlet publications, Ota Discovers Fire is at once funny and sexy, a masterful display of worldbuilding, and defies standard fantasy tropes.
To celebrate the 20th anniversary of Circlet Press, readers were given the opportunity to vote for their favorite story from among all the stories published by Circlet from 2008 to the present. Ota Discovers Fire–originally published in Circlet Press’s travel-themed anthology, Like a Long Road Home–beat out hundreds of other stories to claim the title of top story. (The top 19 stories have been compiled in a print anthology, Fantastic Erotica, also recently released by Circlet Press.) Ota Discovers Fire is available here as a stand-alone ebook, with bonus glossary.
“… A traveler’s tale that blends anthropological satire with a compelling setting and delightfully hot human-werewolf sex scenes that flow seamlessly from the plot.” – Publishers Weekly (starred review of Fantastic Erotica)
About the Author:
Vinnie Tesla is the author of The Erotofluidic Age, a tongue-in-cheek pornographic steampunk ebook, published by Circlet Press. He has a bunch of short stories and a badly neglected blog at vinnietesla.com. His current project is a crime novel set in the world of “Ota Discovers Fire.” He lives in Somerville, Massachusetts with his spousalbeast and has never owned a car, a house, or a tie-dyed article of clothing.
Look under the cut for a hot excerpt!
That afternoon, they crossed a broad, shallow creek, Ota pausing before each shaky leap from mossy rock to mossy rock. From the other side of the creek, the autochthon, who had flowed across the water hardly breaking stride, watched with an expression which he suspected concealed suppressed laughter.
“We stop here,” she announced when, with a final stumbling bound, he arrived on the muddy bank at her side.
“We do?” The sun was still high in the sky.
“There is water here, and a little food.”
“‘Cause I could still go another–” He looked at her face and noticed the dark circles under her eyes. She was still not fully recovered from last night’s transformation, he realized.
“Okay, cool,” he corrected himself. “We can get some rest.” He set his pack down.
She picked a spot and unfastened her kilt and belt, setting them down on the ground. He forced himself not to stare at her broad pubic patch, her little high buttocks, as she settled herself onto the ground, curling into a ball on the pelt. “I sleep now,” she announced, and she closed her eyes.
He sat down and watched the riffling of the creek beside them. For a moment his feet felt relief, then he was overtaken by a sensation he hadn’t experienced in over a week–he was restless. His energy was still high, and he wanted something to do.
As quietly as he could, he rummaged through his pack and extracted a tiny, precious cake of soap, for which he had paid an extravagant sum at the village. Then he stood and made his way upstream. He found the experience of walking without a pack startlingly pleasant. After several days of its weight, there was a giddy lightness to bearing only his own. The sound of rushing water ahead drew him on, and he soon was at the base of a small cascade, the water pouring off a series of ledges into chest-deep pools floored in dead leaves and sparkling sand.
The day was warm and he hadn’t bathed since the village the week before. He took off all his clothes and jumped into the water, biting back a cry at the cold, then began exuberantly soaping himself, groaning with pleasure.
“What are you doing?” came the Ulvzarger’s voice, very close, behind him. He jumped and went down in the water, flailing and splashing. She was sitting cross-legged on a rock at the top of the little fall.
Suppressing his anger and embarrassment, he tried to explain about the new fashion for washing with soap that had started supplanting anointing with oil among the more forward-looking Ensans in the past few years.
“Show me!” she demanded, springing into the water beside him, leaving her wolf-pelt behind on the rock.
Well,” he said hesitantly, “you work up some lather like this….” He demonstrated with the cake of soap, then handed it to her. She took it, but held still.
“Then you rub the suds onto yourself….” He demonstrated.
Instead of following suit, she raised her arms. “Show me!” she said again.
Throat thick, he stepped forward, and found that the water only came to mid-thigh where he was now standing. He ran sudsy hands over her ribcage and stomach. She smiled encouragingly, and he soaped the dark tufts under her arms, then reached up her arms to her wrists.
He could feel his penis lengthening and thickening as his hands ran over her body. She watched it unabashedly, with her curious little closed-mouth smile. “And, um, you can wash the rest of your body, the same way,” he announced.
Her smile disappeared, and he tried to turn his attention to washing the remaining suds off himself as she clumsily turned the slippery cake in her hands, then spread the suds over her pubic triangle and small breasts.
She put the soap down and suddenly leapt in his direction with a terrifying roar. He flinched as she hit the water beside him with an enormous splash, then rose laughing merrily.
“Now both us are clean!” she announced. She stepped close, her nostrils flared. “You smell good.” Her fingertips traced up his bare flanks. The head of his cock bumped against her navel.
He took a stumbling step backward, and her expression clouded. “You are not allowed? You must stay pure for marry?”
He flushed–calling an Ensan man of his age and class a virgin was an insult, though he knew her question was not so intended.
“I’ve been with plenty of girls,” he said defensively, and he climbed out of the water to begin toweling himself off with his shirt.
She followed him and stood streaming and naked on the rock beside him. “You choose your women well?” she said teasingly. “They bring you much honor?”
“I’m…. really not sure what you mean.”
“The women you have fucked: they are brave? Rich? Clever?”
“Um… I guess.”
She sighed in exasperation. “Their honor is yours. Choose wisely, or you lose honor.”
“I’ll… um… keep that in mind.”
She was still looking at him steadily.
“I just…” he began. “It’s not right for women to be so… aggressive.”
She looked taken aback. “I beat you in fight. Right of arva is mine, of fuck-choosing.”
Now he was indignant. “You mean you think now you get to… to take me whether I want it or not.”
“No.” She smiled, and all her many teeth showed. “I am too… niiicccccce.” She drew out the word into a dangerous hiss. “I will not force you.” She stepped forward again, and her nipples were brushing against his bare chest. “Lucky for me you are wanting it so much, hmm?”
The sun, now approaching the tree line, was failing to disperse the chill from the stream’s water. “Look, I’m getting cold,” Ota said. “Let’s go back to the fire.”
At their campsite, he threw a few more branches on the glowing embers and stood to watch them catch.
After a moment’s silence, he turned to look at his guide. “I am not an autochthon,” said Ota. “I am not a member of your pack, and I am not going to act like a member of your pack no matter how many times you punch me in the stomach. I am your–” She was watching him intently with an unreadable expression. He had been about to say ‘employer,’ but he bit the word back. “–equal.”
A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You do have the fire in you,” she said, “I had fear you were soft all through.”
To read the rest, buy the ebook today!
Vinnie Tesla’s “Ota Discovers Fire” is a cliché-busting tale of magic, kinky sex, and witty dialogue set in a vividly realized world. The story was originally published in Circlet Press’s travel-themed anthology, Like a Long Road Home, and was voted the best erotic science fiction/fantasy short story published by Circlet Press in the past five years.