The Whore of New Slum by T.A. Chase

New Slum is the poorest borough in New City, and those who live there are considered the dregs of society. Yet they all have hopes and dreams to be more than what others say they should be.

Wendall works as a sex peddler, trying to survive as best he can in the Slum. One day, while visiting his dying sister, Wendall meets a man who will change his life, and puts into motion plans that have taken years to prepare.

Abdur is a prisoner of war, taken during battle between New France and New Britain. His injuries are such that the New Britain military have no problem experimenting on him. All he has to look forward to is more experiments or being used until he has nothing left to give.

Running into each other is a pivotal moment for both men. As they fall in love, they decide to shape the world around them to what they wish it to be, and start making their dreams come true...

Genres: Gay/Steampunk/Fantasy/Witchcraft/Magic/Action/Adventure
Heat Level: 3
Length: Extended Novella (37k words)

Read a short excerpt...

...If the sun shone in the sky, no one who lived in New Slum ever knew. Black smoke filled the air and blocked out any chance of light. At night, the only sources of illumination were the coal lanterns hanging from poles on the corners and the different steam lights in the saloons, pubs, and brothels that populated New Slum. The only chance any of the inhabitants of the poorest borough in New Britain had to see real sunlight was to sneak into one of the other four boroughs of the city, or simply glimpse it from afar.

Wendall strolled along what passed as a sidewalk in the Slum. He contemplated the dark sky for a moment before looking over to where weak early morning sunlight shone down on New Upper, the richest borough in New Britain, and the only one that could afford to buy a high level spell to ward off the cloud of coal smoke rising from the factories and mines. Well, New Island didn’t have smoke over it either, but since it was a military base and the air had to be clear for the airships, it didn’t count.

He coughed into his handkerchief, hating how heavy his chest felt. Christ! He’d thought working as a whore would be easier on his health than heading into the coalmines like his father, but apparently coal soot was bad for his lungs no matter where he breathed it in.

“Good morning, Master Wendall.”

Wendall glanced to his left, where a teenaged boy sat on the front steps of a pub. He paused in front of him. “Good morning, Jebediah. Are you waiting for Miller to open up?”

“Yes, sir. He pays me a few coins to sweep the floor and clean up before he opens to customers.” Jebediah grimaced. “I don’t really like it, but can’t turn down a job.”

He rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder for a moment. “It’s better than the mines or being a soldier, my young friend. You’re more likely to live long enough to get old, if you’re only sweeping floors.”

Jebediah nodded before gesturing to the flowers in Wendall’s other hand. “Off to see Miss Molly?”

“It’s Monday, isn’t it?” Wendall winked at the teenager, though there wasn’t any joy in his heart at the thought of visiting his sister.

Jebediah smiled as he stood, and the expression in his eyes showed he understood how Wendall really felt. Most of the people who called New Slum home dealt with the same situation Wendall found himself in. Overwhelming poverty allowed disease to run rampant throughout the Slum, and dozens of people died every day because of it.

“I have to get going. Want to get there before visiting hours are over.” Wendall pulled a coin from his pocket before slipping into Jebediah’s hand. “If you and your sisters need anything, you know where to find me.”

“Yes, sir.” Jebediah nodded.

Wendall continued his stroll, heading toward a large building on the next block. The Merciful Sisters of Hope Hospital was one of the bigger buildings in the borough. He hated the dark structure with its oppressive, soul-draining atmosphere. There was nothing happy or hopeful about the place, and it didn’t matter how hard the sisters tried to make it less depressing.

After shoving open the door, Wendall walked through the foyer to the reception desk. The pale nun sitting behind the plain oak table smiled at him.

“Master Wendall, I was wondering if you were going to make it today.”

He bowed slightly and grimaced behind the cascade of hair pouring over his shoulder to almost touch the floor. He hated his hair because it was hard to keep neat and washing it was a bitch. Yet the smog and dirt coating everything made it impossible for him to go more than a day without cleansing his hair. If he’d had a choice, he’d cut it, but it turned out the men who bought his services liked his long hair. Maybe for most of them, it gave the illusion of fucking a woman and they didn’t have to admit they were really using whatever hole they could find...