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story by: Tabitha Switchitt
featuring: princesskiss, Beverly Rosselini, and Helene Schneider
illustrations by: Diego Calderara
featuring: princesskiss, Beverly Rosselini, and Helene Schneider
illustrations by: Diego Calderara
It’s been a long day. Longer than most. As you walk towards the train station, you turn your face to catch the sun that’s just started to appear regularly now that the bitter winter is ending. The mood in the city is bright, sweet spring air coaxing people out onto the streets in shorts and t-shirts. You wish you could revel in the feeling like everyone else, but spring is always the busiest time at CargoCorp. As the largest unisex cargo shorts manufacturer in the world, they have to get ahead of summer sales. And that means unpaid overtime in your tiny data entry office on the ground floor, typing away with nine other unfortunate souls. You twist your shoulders from side to side as you walk, easing the muscles that are cramped from hunching over your keyboard all day.
As you near the train station, a harried man in a suit comes barrelling up the steps, crashing into you as he rounds the corner. You both fall to the ground, the contents of your bag spilling all over the sidewalk.
“Watch where you’re going lady!” the man shouts at you as he gets up and brushes the dirt off his trousers. He snatches his briefcase and stalks off in a huff. As you gather your things, you notice a piece of colourful paper trapped underneath your book. Wait -- it’s a £100 note! You look up, ready to call after the man, but he’s long gone. You finish shoving the rest of your stuff in your bag and pocket the money, a sudden spring in your step. You head down into the station and manage to make it on the train just as it’s about to leave. Karma is on your side today.
As you stand on the packed train, mentally ticking off the stops before your flat, you can feel the money burning a hole in your pocket. You could really use a new work blazer (smart tops and cargo shorts are the only things you are allowed to wear in the office), but maybe this money is a sign, a sign that you should do something new.
“Watch where you’re going lady!” the man shouts at you as he gets up and brushes the dirt off his trousers. He snatches his briefcase and stalks off in a huff. As you gather your things, you notice a piece of colourful paper trapped underneath your book. Wait -- it’s a £100 note! You look up, ready to call after the man, but he’s long gone. You finish shoving the rest of your stuff in your bag and pocket the money, a sudden spring in your step. You head down into the station and manage to make it on the train just as it’s about to leave. Karma is on your side today.
As you stand on the packed train, mentally ticking off the stops before your flat, you can feel the money burning a hole in your pocket. You could really use a new work blazer (smart tops and cargo shorts are the only things you are allowed to wear in the office), but maybe this money is a sign, a sign that you should do something new.
Just then the doors open and a small group of young women in business attire get on board, chatting excitedly to each other. They cram in around you as you cling to the handrail, talking over you as if you’re not even there.
“What do you think you’ll get?” says one to her red-haired friend.
“I’m not sure! I could really use a more powerful vibrator but, well…”
“What??” another shouts eagerly in your ear.
“I’ve heard Princessy Kisska’s just come out with something new. The Kisska Scrumdiddlyhumpcious. I have no idea what it is but Jeanine in Accounting said its the MUST HAVE sex toy of the season. And haven’t you heard about the competition? We obviously have to buy something from her!”
Her friends all roll their eyes. The shortest of the group, a blonde with a high ponytail, chimes in.
“Of course we know about the competition, it’s all anyone’s been talking about! No one’s ever been allowed in her factory,” she drops her voice to a whisper, “can you even imagine what must be in there?”
“A strap-on that always fits perfectly!”
“Nipple clamps that call me a bad girl!”
“What do you think you’ll get?” says one to her red-haired friend.
“I’m not sure! I could really use a more powerful vibrator but, well…”
“What??” another shouts eagerly in your ear.
“I’ve heard Princessy Kisska’s just come out with something new. The Kisska Scrumdiddlyhumpcious. I have no idea what it is but Jeanine in Accounting said its the MUST HAVE sex toy of the season. And haven’t you heard about the competition? We obviously have to buy something from her!”
Her friends all roll their eyes. The shortest of the group, a blonde with a high ponytail, chimes in.
“Of course we know about the competition, it’s all anyone’s been talking about! No one’s ever been allowed in her factory,” she drops her voice to a whisper, “can you even imagine what must be in there?”
“A strap-on that always fits perfectly!”
“Nipple clamps that call me a bad girl!”
“Condoms that turn you invisible!”
“A sex swing 40 stories high!”
They all collapse into laughter. You clear your throat once, and then again.
“Um...excuse me?”
They look around, surprised to find you in their midst.
“What are you talking about, what competition?”
They give you a collective look of pity. You know this look well.
The short blonde places a hand on your arm, “Sweetie, haven’t you heard? Princessy Kisska is finally opening up her factory to the public after who-knows-how-many years! She’s hidden five golden chokers in five sex toy boxes around the world. Four have already been found but…” she turns and smiles at the group, “there’s still one left!”
The others grin at your shocked expression. Princessy Kisska’s factory, open? You’ve heard the rumours sure, about her secret factory, her insane levels of privacy -- no Instagram even, in this day and age! A tour in her factory could be just what you need. You used to be drawn to every sexual adventure, but ever since starting your job at CargoCorp you’ve lost the energy even to touch yourself, let alone another person.
“We’re getting off here! My favourite sex shop is right around the corner,” the redhead says to the others. The group gives you a wave as they exit the train. Maybe this is another sign. The train doors start to close.
At the last minute you slip through, jumping onto the heaving platform. You shoulder past disgruntled commuters, scanning for the group from the train, but you’ve already lost them. Dejected, you slowly make your way up to street level. A watery sunset is just fading on the horizon, and the streetlamps are turning on one by one. It’s getting late...but the redhead had said the shop was just around the corner. It can’t take too long for you to find it.
A half hour later, you’re growing restless. You’ve circled the block several times, venturing further and further out, and still no sign of the shop. Maybe it’s better to cut your losses and just head back home, save this money for a rainy day. You turn onto a dark side street, and suddenly you see it. In bright neon letters “EROTIC DELIGHTS: The Candy Store for Adults” and underneath it a sign saying “We sell Kisska products”. A soft pink light is coming from within, giving an inviting glow to the display window of beautiful glass dildos.
You push open the door and a bell chimes softly. The attendant, a petite mustachioed man in a candy striper outfit, looks up from behind the counter as you come in. He smiles.
“You’re just under the wire. We’re closing up shop in 10 minutes. Can I help you find anything?”
“Um..” you look around, suddenly feeling panicked. To your left are stacks of fetish wear, to your right a shelf of butt plugs in ascending size order. You pick up the closest item, a dog collar that says “Sweet Slut” and put it down again quickly.
“Are you looking for something just for you? Or mostly to use with others?” the attendant comes out from behind the counter, smoothing his striped skirt and looking expectant.
“I guess, um, just for me. For now. I mean, I don’t know.”
“Hmm, well we just got a new product in today from Princessy Kisska. Her stuff’s really been flying off the shelves — because of the competition, you know — but I think we miiiight have one left.” He squeezes past you to slide the ladder over, climbing up to dig through the upper shelves, “Oh perhaps we’re out of…no wait! We’ve got one still. Oh and who left this up here?”
He descends the ladder awkwardly, a large box with the Princessy Kisska label tucked under each arm.
“What is it?” you ask. The boxes are both covered in glitter and sequins that catch the low light, although one’s luster is dulled by a thin coating of dust.
He brings them over to the counter and you follow. “This is her newest invention, the Kisska Scrumdiddlyhumpcious,” he says, pointing to the image on the first box. It looks like a small vibrator, all sleek chrome and pleasing curves.
“A sex swing 40 stories high!”
They all collapse into laughter. You clear your throat once, and then again.
“Um...excuse me?”
They look around, surprised to find you in their midst.
“What are you talking about, what competition?”
They give you a collective look of pity. You know this look well.
The short blonde places a hand on your arm, “Sweetie, haven’t you heard? Princessy Kisska is finally opening up her factory to the public after who-knows-how-many years! She’s hidden five golden chokers in five sex toy boxes around the world. Four have already been found but…” she turns and smiles at the group, “there’s still one left!”
The others grin at your shocked expression. Princessy Kisska’s factory, open? You’ve heard the rumours sure, about her secret factory, her insane levels of privacy -- no Instagram even, in this day and age! A tour in her factory could be just what you need. You used to be drawn to every sexual adventure, but ever since starting your job at CargoCorp you’ve lost the energy even to touch yourself, let alone another person.
“We’re getting off here! My favourite sex shop is right around the corner,” the redhead says to the others. The group gives you a wave as they exit the train. Maybe this is another sign. The train doors start to close.
At the last minute you slip through, jumping onto the heaving platform. You shoulder past disgruntled commuters, scanning for the group from the train, but you’ve already lost them. Dejected, you slowly make your way up to street level. A watery sunset is just fading on the horizon, and the streetlamps are turning on one by one. It’s getting late...but the redhead had said the shop was just around the corner. It can’t take too long for you to find it.
A half hour later, you’re growing restless. You’ve circled the block several times, venturing further and further out, and still no sign of the shop. Maybe it’s better to cut your losses and just head back home, save this money for a rainy day. You turn onto a dark side street, and suddenly you see it. In bright neon letters “EROTIC DELIGHTS: The Candy Store for Adults” and underneath it a sign saying “We sell Kisska products”. A soft pink light is coming from within, giving an inviting glow to the display window of beautiful glass dildos.
You push open the door and a bell chimes softly. The attendant, a petite mustachioed man in a candy striper outfit, looks up from behind the counter as you come in. He smiles.
“You’re just under the wire. We’re closing up shop in 10 minutes. Can I help you find anything?”
“Um..” you look around, suddenly feeling panicked. To your left are stacks of fetish wear, to your right a shelf of butt plugs in ascending size order. You pick up the closest item, a dog collar that says “Sweet Slut” and put it down again quickly.
“Are you looking for something just for you? Or mostly to use with others?” the attendant comes out from behind the counter, smoothing his striped skirt and looking expectant.
“I guess, um, just for me. For now. I mean, I don’t know.”
“Hmm, well we just got a new product in today from Princessy Kisska. Her stuff’s really been flying off the shelves — because of the competition, you know — but I think we miiiight have one left.” He squeezes past you to slide the ladder over, climbing up to dig through the upper shelves, “Oh perhaps we’re out of…no wait! We’ve got one still. Oh and who left this up here?”
He descends the ladder awkwardly, a large box with the Princessy Kisska label tucked under each arm.
“What is it?” you ask. The boxes are both covered in glitter and sequins that catch the low light, although one’s luster is dulled by a thin coating of dust.
He brings them over to the counter and you follow. “This is her newest invention, the Kisska Scrumdiddlyhumpcious,” he says, pointing to the image on the first box. It looks like a small vibrator, all sleek chrome and pleasing curves.
“So...it's a vibrator?”
“This isn’t just any vibrator!” the attendant exclaims, “It’s a hands-free, voice-activated, one-size-fits-all, self-retrieving luxury vibe, babe!”
You look blankly at him, and he sighs with impatience.
“It form fits to your body. You see this picture here?” he points at the box, “that’s just the starting form. I don’t understand how it works exactly, but it reads your body and knows what size and shape to take. And it’ll adjust, depending on where you want to use it. All you have to do is tell it where you want it to go and how you like it — fast or slow, long pulses or quick vibrations, harder, softer, et cetera. All with your hands free to take care of,” — he gestures loosely — “what have you.”
You furrow your brow.
“It seems impossible. How does it work?”
He shrugs. “That’s Kisska’s magic I guess. Making the impossible possible.” He taps the box. “And I don’t know your persuasions, but I would also point out that this is the only self-retrieving anal toy on the market.
You nod, feeling unsure. The attendant seems to notice your hesitation.
“I understand if this might be a bit intense. Luckily, I found something else up there. Practically a relic.”
He blows gently on the second box, sending up a plume of dust and sparkles that settle in his thick mustache. The image on the cover is a gorgeous multi-coloured dildo. Its different rainbow hues remind you of a popsicle dripping in the summer heat. Your mouth waters reflexively. The attendant notices.
“The very first product Kisska ever created. The Kisska Dildo, A classic, really. This is when she did her candy-inspired line.” He rolls his eyes and gestures to his own outfit. “I’m a bit over it myself.”
“This isn’t just any vibrator!” the attendant exclaims, “It’s a hands-free, voice-activated, one-size-fits-all, self-retrieving luxury vibe, babe!”
You look blankly at him, and he sighs with impatience.
“It form fits to your body. You see this picture here?” he points at the box, “that’s just the starting form. I don’t understand how it works exactly, but it reads your body and knows what size and shape to take. And it’ll adjust, depending on where you want to use it. All you have to do is tell it where you want it to go and how you like it — fast or slow, long pulses or quick vibrations, harder, softer, et cetera. All with your hands free to take care of,” — he gestures loosely — “what have you.”
You furrow your brow.
“It seems impossible. How does it work?”
He shrugs. “That’s Kisska’s magic I guess. Making the impossible possible.” He taps the box. “And I don’t know your persuasions, but I would also point out that this is the only self-retrieving anal toy on the market.
You nod, feeling unsure. The attendant seems to notice your hesitation.
“I understand if this might be a bit intense. Luckily, I found something else up there. Practically a relic.”
He blows gently on the second box, sending up a plume of dust and sparkles that settle in his thick mustache. The image on the cover is a gorgeous multi-coloured dildo. Its different rainbow hues remind you of a popsicle dripping in the summer heat. Your mouth waters reflexively. The attendant notices.
“The very first product Kisska ever created. The Kisska Dildo, A classic, really. This is when she did her candy-inspired line.” He rolls his eyes and gestures to his own outfit. “I’m a bit over it myself.”
“What does it do?”
“Well, it goes in you, for the most part.”
“No, I mean, what functions does it have?”
“Ah yes. Quite simple this one really. Three settings: thrust, vibrate, and neutral. Slick feel. Dishwasher safe, of course. It’s really a classic, like I said. Good for any occasion.” He frowns. “It’s funny, it must have been up there a few months. The last one from the shipment we ordered just after the competition started. I guess some people don’t take inventory seriously.”
You consider the two boxes. You wish you could get them both, but either one is going to be more than the £100 you found, and you’re not exactly flush with cash at the moment.
“So, what’s it going to be?”
“Well, it goes in you, for the most part.”
“No, I mean, what functions does it have?”
“Ah yes. Quite simple this one really. Three settings: thrust, vibrate, and neutral. Slick feel. Dishwasher safe, of course. It’s really a classic, like I said. Good for any occasion.” He frowns. “It’s funny, it must have been up there a few months. The last one from the shipment we ordered just after the competition started. I guess some people don’t take inventory seriously.”
You consider the two boxes. You wish you could get them both, but either one is going to be more than the £100 you found, and you’re not exactly flush with cash at the moment.
“So, what’s it going to be?”