Author’s note: This week, I’m sharing a scene from a novella, originally titled Prince Hairy, which I wrote a while back but abandoned after the second draft. In the story, a bearish everyman named Brandon falls for Prince Thomas, a junior member of an unnamed kingdom’s royal family. The spicy gay romance plot also incorporates elements of dystopia and horror, as courtiers use hypnosis and chastity to transform Brandon into the perfect royal consort. 

The door to the chamber stood open, a silent invitation that filled Brandon with a sense of foreboding. The room beyond was clinical and utilitarian, a stark contrast to the opulence of the palace above. The walls were painted a cold, sterile white, and the air was filled with the hum of machinery and the scent of antiseptic. In the center of the room sat a large, padded chair, surrounded by an array of medical equipment and devices that glinted ominously under the harsh light. 

As he stepped into the room, Brandon felt a chill run down his spine. The oppressive atmosphere reminded him of the control and conformity that defined this world. The head psychologist, a tall, imposing man with a sharp, discerning gaze, greeted him with a polite smile, his expression one of composed professionalism.