ANNOUNCEMENT/GIVEAWAY: Commander Jace and the Unsuitable Boys, by Kyler Fey

Commander Jace

QSFer Kyler Fey has a new MM sci fi book out:

The new release from M-Brane Press contains the first five novella-length of Kyler Fey’s astounding and erotic science-fantasy “pulp” adventure serial Commander Jace and the Unsuitable Boys under one cover, in both paperback and Kindle editions.

A thousand years from now and in another history, the Solar System teems with life. Ships sail the aether, linking humanity’s thousands of disparate nations and clades on all the planets and their many moons. Wars flare and fade, conspiracies thrive and then die, loves and lusts burn hotter than the sun.

It is the age of the apex of the children of Earth, but in the deep background of the affairs of sprawling humanity, sinister forces, preternatural phenomena, ornate evil, and bizarre schemes reach everywhere. Standing against these, on the side of light, is the super-powerful Commander Jace and his elite (and lusty) cadre of astonishing queer young men…the so-called “Unsuitable Boys.”

Amazon


Jace BeginsGiveaway

Kyler is giving away a couple things with this post:

—an advance copy of the soon-to-be-released ebook of Jace Begins! We haven’t even mentioned to anyone that we are doing this one, so first word of it will come with this offer.
—AND a copy of the paperback edition of the Jace omnibus

Blurb for the “Begins” ebook if wanted:
Revealing the strange origin of Commander Jace Dekka, JACE BEGINS! answers some questions raised in the first five episodes of the Unsuitable Boys saga and previews some of what is to come in the explosive second half of the series.

For a chance to win, comment on this post.


Excerpt

Strive takes Zane on a hike into the forest where they find an encampment of giants.

Strive’s all like: Suck my face, baby! every two or three minutes, pulling him into wet kisses, pulling aside Zane’s loincloth, pulling Zane’s dick into his belly-hole and they stop to fuck a couple times, but Zane wants to press ahead and get to this fabled “rancho” that Strive has been promising all morning ever since they’d commenced their slow hike through a forest of massive bromeliads and towering ferns, and he tries to keep his fruit-boy lover focused less on fucking and a lot more on trekking for a while.

I’m hungry and thirsty, too, Zane says, wishing they’d had the sense to bring along something to eat or at least some water. You should, he says, probably stay well-fed and hydrated in your condition!

Strive laughs and tells Zane to quit worrying about him and the gradually expanding swell in his belly where their baby grows. Soon we’ll be to the rancho and we can rest for minute!

Only for a minute?

The rancho is very close to what I really want to show you!

Zane asks what Strive really wants to show him, but Strive just giggles and grabs Zane’s wrist and pulls him along further down the crude trail through the forest.

The so-called rancho is a clearing in the forest with a small house sitting on it, and beyond that an open-sided tent hanging over a big wooden table. Strive leads him to the table where they sit for a moment. Soon a boy appears dragging behind him a low-slung four-wheeled cart that reminds Zane of a child’s wagon except it’s made of reeds and branches, its wheels hewn from solid chunks of wood. This boy is darker than Strive and just as pretty and Zane briefly imagine putting his mouth between this young man’s thighs and eating his tangy twat, but he bats away this fantasy, tries to refocus on their purpose here, wonders if there actually even is one.

Zane is thirsty and hungry and the boy’s cart contains, among other things, a big rubbery bucket of ice into which is nested a shiny cluster of green glass bottles. The boy says a bright hello and opens a couple of the bottles and sets one in front of each of them. Strive chugs his down in one long gulp. Zane tastes his first, thinks it tastes like beer, and then gulps from it with great thirst. The boy sets down another round of drinks and also lays on the table a series of edibles: some cut-in-half fruits that look to Zane like passionfruit, some strips of what look like meat jerky, some pink balls snowed heavily with white flakes. Zane doesn’t know what category of food this thing might be in, but it looks to him like a kind of cake coated with coconut. Strive picks up one of them and bites into it, pulling half of it into his mouth and exposing a creamy pale yellow center. Yum! he says, grinning, his mouth full of cake crumbs and cream.

They eat most of the food and drink a couple more of the beers, and then the boy who brought all this stuff asks them if they are here to peer at THE AMAZING TENT OF THE INCREDIBLE ALIEN GIANTS! The boy sways his narrow hips from side to side and waggles his hands with each syllable as he says these words.

Giants! Zane says, looking at the boy with deep doubt. These people are so fucking stoned all the time! he thinks.

It’s what I told you about, baby! Strive reaches across the table, a chunk of one of the pink coconut cakes in his fingers. Open up! He pushes it into Zane’s mouth. The thing I wanted you to see after we got some lunch.

The boy points toward a path that gets lost among the ferns and says, It’s right down there!

There: another clearing, this one much bigger and in its center a metal-canopied structure like the covered area of the rancho but more solidly built with steel posts and much much larger. Its roof hangs at least four stories above them, and underneath it are vast hulks of equipment for which Zane has no name and tables with legs at least three times Zane’s height. He remembers that he had the sense to bring his phone along on this trip, and he gets it out and starts snapping pictures.

Take some of me, too! Strive says, and commences mugging for the camera. Zane snaps about a dozen of Strive and then turns back to the strange and enormous structures, hoping that his pictures will be viewable when he returns home with them.

He steps closer to the edge of the structure, where a smooth floor of black stone covers the forest floor, but Strive hisses and grabs his wrist and pulls him back behind a clump of ferns. Shhh… he whispers. I hear someone coming.

And someone does come, like a mountain walking or stumbling. Four people! And each of them perhaps a dozen meters tall. They lumber into their structure, which compared to them, is just a normal-sized shelter.

Who are they?

Strive says no one is sure.

Where did they come from?

Strive says no one knows.

Have they always been here?

Strive says at least since last summer. Zane wants to ask what constitutes “summer” in a land where the sun never changes its position in the sky, but he sets that aside for later. This doesn’t feel right, Zane whispers. They shouldn’t be so large. They must not be from this world. They must be from outside, like me.

But you’re not a giant, baby!

Zane doesn’t think this discrepancy is necessarily a mystery. It may have to do, he says, with how I get here and back versus how they do it.

I wonder if you can figure out where they come from.

I wish I knew. And I wish I knew why they are here, Zane says. He raises his phone and tries to focus the camera on one of the monstrous people. One of them turns his head in their general direction. Zane dares to raise his camera higher, dares a second or two to zoom in on a face and snap the pic. He is sure he made too much noise, exposed his and Strive’s hiding spot, but the giants do not notice. They keep speaking to each other in a language that Zane can’t understand, in low voices, maybe in their version of whispering.

Zane looks at his pictures. He has captured the face of one of the giants, a bizarre great visage furrowed with scars with a slash of black lips above its heavy chin. It is frightening, and Zane thinks he has seen it before if only he could remember his other world better when he is immersed in this one…


Author Bio

Kyler Fey is a queer dude who writes erotic science-fantasy fiction and fantasy-infused autofiction. This creative work, he finds, is a pleasant diversion from his day-job in the food and wine world, where he tolerates the people around him with a real but amiable contempt. He is seriously unsettled in his ongoing physical existence in “consensus reality,” and has said a billion times that if his spouse didn’t keep needing him for some reason then he’d either become (at last) a cat or leave the planet entirely, flying away from it on no particular course. Kyler Fey lives in Saint Louis USA with his (gay) spouse and his kitties. Connect with him on Twitter @KylerFey or on Tumblr https://kylerfey.tumblr.com, where he sporadically blogs writing excerpts, accounts of his weird dreams, and pics of Justin Bieber.

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