quaraun boomfuzzy godforsaken city boston
USEDquaraunbook-lighthouse-keeperThe Pink Necromancer: Quaraun the Insane
USEDboomfuzzy-king-gwallmaiicKing Gwallmaiic aka BoomFuzzy the Unicorn

The Egg Question
A Pink Necromancer, short fiction story
The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane

While eating pizza after a long day of killing Humans, The UnSeelie Court's pregnant court mage, contemplates why having sex with the Dragon King does not result in him laying Dragon Eggs.

NOTE: For those not familiar with the series, which spans 100+ novels, 500+ poems, 2k+ drabbles, 3k+ short stories, and 1 video game, and celebrates it’s 50th anniversary in 2028, so the bulk of stories give no introductions:

  • The year is 39,999. Earth was hit by a comet in 2525 wiping out society. Faeries rose up and took over the planet. The UnSeelie Court now rules the world. King Gwallmaiic, aka BoomFuzzy the Unicorn rules the UnSeelie Court.
  • Quaraun is The Pink Necromancer was formerly Rapunzel, an Elf Princess from the Seelie Court, who is now the husband of the UnSeelie King, as well as his Royal Court Mage and Royal Advisor.
  • GhoulSpawn is a Demon who was summoned to Earth via kids with a oui ji board in the 1950s, then in 1978 fell into a feral portal and ended up in 39,999 where he is now Quaraun assistant and live-in lover.
  • All 3 of them are supervillains whom the world lives in mortal terror of, though this is often not conveyed to the reader as Quaraun is the point of view character, and Quaraun does not see himself or his two husbands as evil; there is no redemption arch, these are not morally grey anti-heroes, no quests, no saving the world, this is very simply the world through the eyes of it’s most feared monster as he goes about his normal routine of living his every day life…
  • …and so readers are never given a clear picture of the whole story and see and hear only the things which Quaraun himself sees and hears. This is 3rd person limited point of view, meaning if Quaraun did not see it, if Quaraun did not hear it… neither do the readers. This also means, readers are only seeing the world as Quaraun himself mentally, and emotionally processes it, thus readers are seeing the world through the eyes of a highly unreliable madman.


By Wendy C Allen
eelkat_red_scarf.jpgWendy Christine Allen, 2019, able to sit up in a chair for the first time in years, and able to raise up my arm and wiggle fingers. This was when I started playing Witcher 3 on Twitch as part of my physical therapy to regain finger movement. Playing Witcher 3 daily from 2016 to 2019, is how I regained the use of my thumb and two for fingers on my right hand... it is also why I stopped playing Witcher 3 in 2019, once I had strengthen my two forefingers enough to start typing again.

Wendy Christine Allen, Old Orchard Beach's Autistic Author, Artist, Illustrator, & Art Car Designer

Counting Down to the September 23, 2028 50th Anniversary of my first published book (September 23, 1978)

If you are here looking for The Twighlight Manor series, The Crystonite Wars series, The Wild Years series, The White Rock Asylum for the Criminally Insane series, The Twisted Tales series, the Captured By a MerMan series, The Space Dock 13 series, The Kats of Planet Ptarmagin series, the stories about Miss Citten the Eel-Kat, or the stories about Etiole... ALL of those series were combined and consolidated into The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane Pink Necromancer series in 2014, so ALL the different series, are now under one series title.

List of the published titles still in print:

The Index of over three thousand stories in The Pink Necromancer series

What the series is about, for those new here:

The introduction to The Pink Necromancer Series. 

If you want some stories to get you started in The Pink Necromancer series, reading these first will give you a good introduction to the 3 main characters:

My Elves Are JellyFish...and I asked Google AI and ChatGPT 5.6 what they thought of this.

As requested, my daily writing prompt series is now available print paperback editions on Amazon.

There are 20 volumes of this writing prompt series currently planned and in varying stages of finishing, hopefully all 20 will be published by the end of 2026. I likely will do a 2nd series of writing prompt books in 2027.

The first of the Visual Novels/Video Games for The Adventures of Quaraun the Inane/The Pink Necromancer series is published and available on Itch.io, there are 3 more planned for release in 2026, 6 more planned for release in 2027, and the big 60-hour 80k word 150 page one (Quaraun Goes To the Fair) is planned for a 2028 release.

There is a Pink Necromancer card game and a Pink Necromancer board game, as well as a Pink Necromancer table top RPG supliment for Dungeons and Dragons, all in the works, and to be released over the next couple of years as well.

Health update: August 4, 2026 - in recovery for 6 months+ (at least until mid-January 2027...all book and video game releases are pushed back at least 6 months) see video below for why...
@eelkat

health update #maine #disabilityawareness #wheelchairlife #wheelchairvlogger #multiplesclerosis

♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author
@eelkat Health update: #chickenpox #bellspalsy #RamsayHuntsyndrome #paralysis #recovery ♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author
@eelkat

I seem to have had another stroke (during the night while I was asleep?) #stroke #paralysis

♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author

Update Sept 3, 2026:

I am able to get around enough to take Koko to dog park... today is 29 days since getting out of hospital. My diet is still mostly liquid, but im eating some solid food again, but its like rice or soft mushy baby food type stuff because I still can not chew yet, though I can swallow again. My jaw is still not functioning good so im having trouble talking still. So there's been slight improvement to my mouth, throat, and jaw, but, zero improvement to my eye, which is a major concern, be Im almost fully blind right now. im legally blind since birth in my left eye, so I have no ability to fall back on using my left eye. My right eye is the one injured and my vision in it is "40% decreased" according to my doctor, but it wasn't good vision to begin with, and right now my right eye is not much different from my legally blind left eye. Which I why I have to have someone drive my car for me instead of me driving my car myself right now, which is very frustrating, because, being a female, I had to fight for over twenty years to be allowed to drive. I started sneaking out at age 31 and dressing as a man to go to Old Orchard Beach high school to get a ged, because us females are not allowed to go to school. And i was 37 years old when snuck out to the DMV and got a driver's permit and started going to college. I was 42 and 8 months pregnant when my family found out I was going to college and thats when I was punished by the backhoe driving over my house and my spine broken with a golf club and my baby born right then and killed with same golf club. So it's very frustrating now, so soon after finally being able to drive , to now not be able to drive because of an eye injury, especially after 14 years of being paralyzed from the golf club and not being allowed to have a wheelchair, again, because i am female and we females are simply not allowed to do anything. I hate the culture I was born into. I wish I had the freedom to go to school and drive a car the way American women do. I wish having my spine broken with a golf club and my baby killed with a golf club and a backhoe driven over my house was not how men in my family punishment women in my family for learning to read and write. Its so frustrating not being able to to drive again, so soon after 14 years being paralyzed, and being paralyzed by the golf club was the punishment for getting a driver's license back in 2013 after 30 years of men not letting me have one. I hate my family's culture and how they treat us women.

I get so sick of Americans telling me how they wish they could be a Gypsy… they are either misogynist woman hating pigs, or delusional idiots who haven't got a clue how shittily we Gypsy women are treated by Gypsy men, because no one in their righ mind who knows anything about Gypsy culture would ever want to be part of it. I hate that I was born a Gypsy. 

update sept 7, 2026

"You would not make a good teacher"... what does that mean, and why are there so many people on Railroad Ave and Western Ave and Cutts St why walk up to me and say that to me?

I find it very confusing. I have low functioning Autism (the Rain Man type) and so i have very little understanding of words beyond the basic ones, and i never went to to school, so I never learned maths or sciences, and I only had remedial classes at Southern Maine Community College, because I did not have an education to enroll with regular, I was there taking every reading and writing class they had to learn how to read and write, and also took speaking classes to learn how to talk (i spoke Shetland Scottish language because that was language my grandmother spoke but she died when I was 8 so I only knew that language to speak and write, and I was 37 when I went to college and 42 when I learned English speaking and I still cant speak English good yet), all the other classes I took were art painting and cooking.

So the phrase "You would not make a good teacher" makes no sense to me because it seems to imply that I am trying to be a teacher, but I don't have anything close to the education ti be a teacher, and im not trying to be a teacher. So I don't know why people keep saying this phrase to me and I assume it must have some sort of a slang meaning, but I can't figure out what it could be of why do these people keep saying it to me.

see video below for more information: 


@eelkat "You would not make a good teacher"... what does that mean, and why are there so many people on Railroad Ave and Western Ave and Cutts St why walk up to me and say that to me? I find it very confusing. I have low functioning Autism (the Rain Man type) and so i have very little understanding of words beyond the basic ones, and i never went to to school, so I never learned maths or sciences, and I only had remedial classes at Southern Maine Community College, because I did not have an education to enroll with regular, I was there taking every reading and writing class they had to learn how to read and write, and also took speaking classes to learn how to talk (i spoke Shetland Scottish language because that was language my grandmother spoke but she died when I was 8 so I only knew that language to speak and write, and I was 37 when I went to college and 42 when I learned English speaking and I still cant speak English good yet), all the other classes I took were art painting and cooking. So the phrase "You would not make a good teacher" makes no sense to me because it seems to imply that I am trying to be a teacher, but I don't have anything close to the education ti be a teacher, and im not trying to be a teacher. So I don't know why people keep saying this phrase to me and I assume it must have some sort of a slang meaning, but I can't figure out what it could be of why do these people keep saying it to me. #mainelife #biddefordmaine #maine #disabilitytiktok #Biddeford ♬ original sound Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author

update Sept 15, 2026:

I have some slight movement in some my fingers again again after over a decade being paralyzed

you remember how I used to be a professional doll making, pattern designer, and embroiderer, back before I became paralized and before my son was murdered and being the backhoe drove over my house?

all my equipment, sewing machines, ect were all destroyed by the backhoe driving over my house, and I have been quardepelegic for over a decade because of it so could not use my hands to sew or draw or embroider, and so only continued to do my writing of novels since then because I could do that with dragon dictation software,

well, since 2016, I been playing Witcher 3 and don't starve video games on twitch livestream, one hand two fingers, as part of my therapy to regain nerve and muscle use of my fingers, and now after 10 years of that, I have somewhat more movement in my fingers and im thinking maybe I can try to do embroidery and doll making again, but not sure, anyways, now im rebuying all of my sewing and embroidery equipment that the backhoe destroyed when it drove over my house, and hopefully I can use my hand enough to embroider again.

waiting for stuff to arrive in mail, so soon I should find out if ten years of twitch gaming has given me enough muscle strength to use my fingers to embroider again.

update to the previous video, answering viewer question about lack of hospital vs broken spine

Wheelchair Fundraiser... I need to upgrade to a power wheelchair, the manual one just isn't enough anymore. But the power wheelchair is $25k. Yes, twenty five thousand dollars. Wtf? I can get a car for a quarter that price, why are wheelchairs so damned expensive? That's more money then I make in five years, so I need to start a fundraiser for it.

The Egg Question: A Pink Necromancer Short Story

The pizza parlour glowed with the gentle orange light of its enormous stone hearth. Outside, snow drifted across the streets of The GodForsaken City, piling against rusted motorcycles and frost-covered neon signs. Inside, warmth settled over the crowded room. Dough baked. Cheese bubbled. Oregano, tomatoes, basil, and woodsmoke mingled into an aroma so rich it almost made Quaraun forget how exhausting the day had become.

Almost.

The three of them occupied the largest booth nearest the fire.

GhoulSpawn slumped across the table, his head resting on folded arms, one curled ram horn bumping against a half-finished mug of tea. His golden fleece spread around him like an untidy blanket. His eyes remained closed.

Whether asleep or merely pretending, nobody could quite tell.

Across from him, BoomFuzzy lounged comfortably against the padded bench with Quaraun tucked securely against his chest. One arm circled Quaraun’s waist while the other lazily held a slice of pizza.

Quaraun rested without complaint. His cane leaned beside the booth. His gold-plated bionic gloves lay on the table beside a vase of plastic flowers His 14 foot long jellyfish-hair drifted slowly over BoomFuzzy’s shoulder, the silver tendrils basking in the warmth pouring from the hearth.

Neither of them spoke for several peaceful minutes.

BoomFuzzy nibbled pizza.

Quaraun stared into the flames.

GhoulSpawn breathed softly.

The crackling fire painted strange moving shadows across the walls.

Quaraun’s thoughts wandered. They rarely travelled in straight lines. The started innocently enough, as Quaraun stared at the fire, and thought abiout how earlier that day, BoomFuzzy had transformed into a resplendent dragon and with a single fiery breath burned and entire city to the ground. A Human city. Vile filth. One less Human city they had to contend with.

But Quaraun’s disjointed thoughts never stayed in one place long.

Fire became dragons.

Dragons became stories.

Stories became books.

Books became memories.

Memories became questions.

He frowned.

Then, without warning, he suddenly asked:

“If Humans laid eggs, would grocery stores sell them?”

Silence.

GhoulSpawn muttered something unidentifiable in his sleep.

BoomFuzzy blinked once.

Twice.

“…What? Love what craziness ya going on about now?”

“If Humans laid eggs, would they sell them in the stores?”

“That sounds as crazy as something the Goat would think up.”

“…I heard that.” GhoulSpawn opened one eye. “Also I’m a Sheep. And I do not think up crazy stuff like Quaraun does and you know it.” The Sheep Demon looked over at Quaraun. “What did you ask again. I was asleep, I missed that part. All I heard was Boomie berating me again.”

“Tis all ya ever hear ya dumb fuck.”

“Why are you always so mean to me?”

“Because I be yar king and ya is always disrespecting me.”

“Quaraun?”

“Dona look to him for help, I’m his king too, and he knows his place. You don’t see him always talking back to me do you?”

Quaraun continued staring into the fire. He did not hear the rest of the argument.

“I asked whether grocery stores would sell Human eggs.”

BoomFuzzy looked genuinely thoughtful.

“Huh.” Another pause. “…Probably.”

Quaraun recoiled. “No. That is a horrible thought. Eggs contain babies.”

“Aye. Just like your whale of a belly.”

“I am not a whale. I am a JellyFish.”

“Ya full me bairns and they got ya looking like a beach whale in summer heat.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that you do not allow me to even go five minute not pregnant?”

“It did. It has. I won’t.”

“Are Humans really that cruel that they would sell their own eggs?”

“Humans kept each other as slaves, forced children to work in sweat shop factories, and you’ve been to enough dig sites to know how many tens of thousand of Human baby fossils we’ve dug out of their wells and sewers. Humans are mindless pieces of shit, they don’t give a fuck about their young.”

“No!”

“Aye.”

“Why are they so horrible, especially to their children. Children should be loved.”

“Aye.”

GhoulSpawn slowly lifted his head. “…Statistically speaking…”

Quaraun pointed dramatically. “Do not encourage him. You know how Unicorn gets if you start in.”

“…I was only going to say grocery stores already sell eggs.”

“Chicken eggs.”

“Correct.”

“Not Human eggs.”

“Human eggs don’t exist, Quaraun…”

“But if they did?”

“If Humans laid ‘em…” BoomFuzzy shrugged. “…They’d likely sell ‘em.”

“No.”

“Boomie’s right. Humans really do’t care about their young, like not even at all. Back in the 1970s, their government had to set up child protective services and foster care programs, and send out police to take children away from their parents, because they would beat their kids up. And I’m not talking like one or two places, either. It was all over the planet. In fact it was so bad in America where I was living, that every single town in all fifty states, had police officers whose only job it was, was to arrested parents and take the kids to foster care and they had entire court systems, called family courts, that all judges did was spend every day processing kids to try to find them homes that wouldn’t beat them up like how their parents beat them up, and the foster care system was fucked to shit, just clogged up with so many kids, because their were more kids being taken away from abusive parents, then their were adults who were fit to raise children. Humans are just so hateful to each other all the time, but damn, it was like an epidemic without horrible they treated their own children.”

“No.” Quaraun’s hand instinctively clutched his heavily pregnant belly. “Why would anyone hurt their children?”

“It got worse then that. Abortion was a really big thing.”

“Abortion? What is that?”

“Your people don’t have that, I don’t think.”

“We don’t,” BoomFuzzy answered. “I’ve made laws against it. I personally execute any motherfucker who kills a baby. I won’t have none of that in my kingdom.”

“What…? Quaraun looked from BoomFuzzy to GhoulSpawn then back to BoomFuzzy.

“They kill their babies before they are born.”

“What? Why?”

“Because they is Humans. Filth. Scum of the Earth. They haven’t got enough intelligence to know not to kill their own infants.”

“So if Humans laid eggs…”

“…Somebody’d eat ‘em.”

“NO.”

“Ye asked.”

Quaraun folded his arms. His long rabbity ears twitched indignantly.

“My question revealed the horrifying moral collapse of Human civilisation.”

“It revealed ye think strange thoughts.”

“I always think strange thoughts.”

“Aye. Ya do.” BoomFuzzy kissed Quaraun. “But I ain’t complainin’.”

Quaraun huffed. His eyes drifted back toward the fire.

“I once read an old novel.”

BoomFuzzy nodded.

“Dangerous pastime.”

“You should learn to read.”

“I can read. I just don’t like to. I spend too much time reading dull boring paperwork. Running a government has me reading too much bore arsed shit.”

“I mean fiction.”

“I know what ya meant. You think I got time to read fiction? I have to hire a full team of clerks because I don’t have time enough to read the shite I’m required to read.”

“A Human woman married a Dragon Lord.”

“Happens.”

“…Does it?”

“I had a few Human spouses. You know that.” BoomFuzzy resumed eating his pizza.

GhoulSpawn yawned. “…Go on. Tell us what the book said before Boomie starts boring us with more royal decrees.”

“She produced an egg.”

BoomFuzzy stopped chewing.

“…An egg.”

“Yes.”

“A Human?”

“Yes. One large egg.”

“You read a book, where a fucking Humam, laid a fucking egg, because dragon fucked her?”

“Correct.”

“Then what?” GhoulSpawn asked.

“She cared for it until it hatched.”

BoomFuzzy considered this.

“…Cute. But Human biology does na work that way.”

Quaraun frowned harder.

“I have contemplated this matter all afternoon.”

“I HAD noticed.”

“You turned into a dragon and burnt down that village.”

“Aye. I did.”

“Does that not make you are Dragon Lord?”

“Love, I’m’a Phooka. Like a mimic I can shape shift into anything fucking thing I feel like turning into.”

“If Dragons hatch from eggs…” Quaraun paused. “And you frequently become a dragon…” Quaraun hesitated. “And I…” He hesitated again. “And I…”

BoomFuzzy gently squeezed the Elf’s hand.

“…Go on, Love.”

Quaraun sighed.

“I am carrying your kits.”

BoomFuzzy’s expression softened immediately.

“Aye. You are.”

“And you are frequently a dragon.”

“Aye. I am.”

“Therefore…” Another pause. “…Why have I never laid an egg? I carry litters. Large litters. Litters of kits. Kits and litters. Litters and kits. That alone suggests some creature inside my ancestry made catastrophic decisions. Rabbits produce litters. Jellyfish release clouds. Dragons lay eggs. Somewhere along the line Nature selected every inconvenient option simultaneously. I ought to produce one enormous egg full of kits. Efficient. Civilised. Civilized. Efficient. Easier than explaining twins again. Or triplets. Or quintuplets.”

BoomFuzzy blinked.

Then blinked again.

GhoulSpawn stared.

The table remained perfectly silent.

Finally BoomFuzzy answered.

“…Because Ah usually become a unicorn when we have sex?”

“Then why don’t I give birth to unicorns?”

“Because I’m a Phooka. I have Phooka DNA. I ain’t actually a Unicorn, Love. Just like I ain’t actually a Dragon.”

Quaraun looked unconvinced.

“That explanation lacks scientific rigour.”

“Scientific…? Love! It lacks everythin’. And you ain’t got a fucking clue what scientific even means.”

“Scientific is the bull shit Glinta babbles on about.”

“Hey!” GhoulSpawn yelled. “I’ll have you know, science is not bull shite. Well, technically bull shit is science, as it is a part of cattle digestive system…”

“Goat.” BoomFuzzy snarled.

“I’m a Sheep.”

“Shut up. Let the Elf have his crazy spell.”

“It troubles me,” Quaraun said, ignoring BoomFuzzy’s snark.

“You wanted an egg?”

“I do not know.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“I sound confused.”

BoomFuzzy nodded thoughtfully. “Fair.”

Quaraun leaned farther back against him.

“My jellyfish instincts insist offspring ought to drift. Float on the waves, carried by the wind, across the ocean.”

“They cannot drift.”

“I know.”

“They’d float away.”

“I know.”

“They’d get stuck in trees.”

“I KNOW.”

His voice echoed through the parlour. Several diners glanced over.

Quaraun lowered his own voice.

“They ought to be eggs.”

BoomFuzzy rubbed slow circles across Quaraun’s shoulder.

“Why?”

“Because eggs are tidy.”

“…Tidy? How.”

“They possess shells.”

“…Aye.”

“They remain politely contained. Placenta. Blood. Water. All neatly contained inside the egg, with a lovely yellow yolk for them to feed on. All that stuff would not be in my belly. And I would not have to pee every five minutes.”

“Do you need to pee again?”

“YES! But that is beside the point. Kits in an egg would be so much easier for me.”

“…Unlike kits in your womb.”

“Precisely. ”

GhoulSpawn quietly raised one finger. “…Technically jellyfish produce polyps.”

Quaraun immediately pointed at him. “Exactly.”

BoomFuzzy frowned. “I thought jellyfish laid eggs.”

“They do,” GhoulSpawn replied. “And sperm. Then larvae. Then polyps. Then more jellyfish.”

BoomFuzzy looked at Quaraun.

Quaraun looked at BoomFuzzy.

BoomFuzzy scratched his beard. “…So… Now what?”

Quaraun sighed dramatically. “My own biology refuses to cooperate with itself.”

“Love.”

“Yes?”

“I do not reckon any biology cooperates with itself.”

“…That is unexpectedly profound.”

“I surprise folk.”

GhoulSpawn rested his chin on folded arms again. “…I still think grocery stores would sell Human eggs.”

Quaraun gasped. “Monster! Humans are such vile monsters”

“It would happen.”

“No. It is horrible.”

“It probably would.”

“No. It should not.”

“They’d package them by the dozen.”

“STOP! I do not want my kits overhearing such things.”

BoomFuzzy started laughing. “They’d have free-range Humans.”

Quaraun covered his face. “UNICORN!”

“Cage-free Humans.”

“STOP HELPING HIM!”

“Organic Humans.”

GhoulSpawn added quietly, “…Omega-three enriched Humans.”

Quaraun slowly turned.

“Three Omegas?”

“Uhm…No. That’s not what I…”

“How does one enrich an Omega?”

“…With fatty acids.”

Quaraun stared. “You are proposing feeding us Omegas to Humans?”

“No.”

“Three Omegas.”

“Omega-three.”

“Precisely.”

“It is a vitamin.”

Quaraun frowned. “There are vitamin Omegas?”

“No…”

“Then why did you say there were?”

BoomFuzzy interrupted, grinning. “Does that mean Ah’m Alpha One?”

GhoulSpawn rubbed both temples. “…No.”

“Alpha Two?”

“…No.”

Quaraun looked horrified. “There are multiple Alphas?”

“NO!”

“Unicorn? I thought you were the only Alpha?”

“I am.”

“But Glinta said…”

“I think he’s talking about something else, Love.”

“I was talking about Omega-three…”

“Then stop numbering the Omegas!”

“I AM NOT!” GhoulSpawn slumped his face back down on the table. “Why do I ever try to explain science to either of you?”

BoomFuzzy lost all composure. He doubled over laughing so hard tears rolled down his cheeks.

Quaraun groaned into both hands.

“You are both dreadful.”

“We know,” BoomFuzzy managed between laughs.

“You encourage impossible thoughts and confuse my mind.”

“You started it, Love.”

“I regret…” Quaraun stopped himself. “No.”

BoomFuzzy smiled. “No?”

“I refuse to regret asking philosophical questions.”

“Well, you keep right on asking them, Love.”

“You approve?”

“They’re entertainin’.”

“They are important.”

BoomFuzzy kissed Quaraun’s face. “You’re important.”

Quaraun relaxed again.

The warmth from the hearth soaked into his aching back.

BoomFuzzy’s heartbeat thumped steadily beneath his cheek.

No. That was wrong.

BoomFuzzy is a Lich. He is dead. UnDead.

Quaraun listened again.

There was no heartbeat beneath BoomFuzzy’s ribs. There never had been since he embraced Lichdom. Quaraun still listened for one anyway. He remembered when there was a heartbeat. When his beloved husband was still alive.

Outside, snow continued to fall across the city.

Inside, plates clinked.

Someone laughed near the counter.

One of Quaraun’s children chased another between the tables before an exhausted handmaid intercepted them both.

Quaraun watched them for a long moment.

His hand drifted unconsciously across his stomach.

“I love my children.”

“I know you do,” BoomFuzzy replied.

“Why do Humans not love their children?”

“Tis one of the great mysteries of life. In all the animal kingdom, only Humans abuse their young, kill their infants, and spend time trying to not have offspring.”

Quietly, almost to himself, Quaraun said: “I still think eggs would be simpler.”

BoomFuzzy rested his chin atop Quaraun’s head.

“Aye…But Ah’m grateful they are not.”

Quaraun looked up. “Why?”

BoomFuzzy smiled with that familiar crooked grin. “‘Cause then Ah’d spend nine months worryin’ ye might accidentally sit on one. and break it. Or damage it while sweeping dust off it with a broom. Inside of ya, you can plop yourself down in ya nest, surround yarself with pillows, and be a broody little mother hen without accidentally hurting ya bairns by fussing over the eggs too much.”

GhoulSpawn snorted. It escaped before he could stop it. He clamped his hands over his mouth. “I’m not laughing.”

BoomFuzzy burst into laughter.

Even Quaraun surrendered at last, hiding a small smile against his husband’s shoulder while the fire crackled softly beside them, and for one quiet evening, the question of Human eggs remained blissfully unanswered.

* Quaraun is a transman and BoomFuzzy and GhoulSpawn are his 2 husbands

Copyright @ Wendy Christine Allen 2026, All Rights Reserved


                    The End?

|©2026 Wendy Christine Allen |  All Rights Reserved|

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 The Pink Necromancer

WebRing
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NOTE: For those not familiar with the series, which spans 100+ novels, 500+ poems, 2k+ drabbles, 3k+ short stories, and 1 video game, and celebrates it’s 50th anniversary in 2028, so the bulk of stories give no introductions:

  • The year is 39,999. Earth was hit by a comet in 2525 wiping out society. Faeries rose up and took over the planet. The UnSeelie Court now rules the world. King Gwallmaiic, aka BoomFuzzy the Unicorn rules the UnSeelie Court.
  • Quaraun is The Pink Necromancer was formerly Rapunzel, an Elf Princess from the Seelie Court, who is now the husband of the UnSeelie King, as well as his Royal Court Mage and Royal Advisor.
  • GhoulSpawn is a Demon who was summoned to Earth via kids with a oui ji board in the 1950s, then in 1978 fell into a feral portal and ended up in 39,999 where he is now Quaraun assistant and live-in lover.
  • All 3 of them are supervillains whom the world lives in mortal terror of, though this is often not conveyed to the reader as Quaraun is the point of view character, and Quaraun does not see himself or his two husbands as evil; there is no redemption arch, these are not morally grey anti-heroes, no quests, no saving the world, this is very simply the world through the eyes of it’s most feared monster as he goes about his normal routine of living his every day life…
  • …and so readers are never given a clear picture of the whole story and see and hear only the things which Quaraun himself sees and hears. This is 3rd person limited point of view, meaning if Quaraun did not see it, if Quaraun did not hear it… neither do the readers. This also means, readers are only seeing the world as Quaraun himself mentally, and emotionally processes it, thus readers are seeing the world through the eyes of a highly unreliable madman.
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In case you didn’t know, Quaraun is a zombie, as is BoomFuzzy, and Ghoulspawn is too, he just hasn’t come to terms with it yet, my series is a zombie apocalypse told from the point of views of the zombies… these are LITERAL UNDEAD MONSTERS, a hoard of intelligent thinking zombies that are able to pass themselves off as the living, so they can “Something Wicked This way Comes” style set up a seemingly innocent carnival in a village of the living, and them eat all the people that were stupid enough to enter the market… it’s a travelling merchant and food truck chef, leading a massive horde of twenty-one billion zombies across the planet, systematically hunting down the living, because they eat brains, and all these guys have on their minds is where’s the next group of brains we can harvest… literal Goblin Market logic here, NO ONE IS SELLING to customers, because the merchants are zombies eating the customers. My characters are blood thirsty zombies with one thing on their minds: Brains!

Brains, brains, brains, brains, BRAINS!

Harvesting brains.

Eating brains.

Cooking brains.

Pickleing brains.

Creating new recipes for brains stew.

And leaving nothing to waste, BoomFuzzy grinds Human bones into flour, literal bone meal flour, for making his gingerbread, his magical gingerbread that he uses to lure Humans into The UnSeelie Court, so the UnDead Evil faeries can feast on Humans brains.

I write VILLAIN POINT OF VIEW, we are seeing the zombie apocalypse told from the point of view of the zombies. I’m not writing stupid, quirky wimps antiheroes to keep a sensitive snowflake young adult from having to actually feel emotions. I hate the stupid ass pandering to never hurting a readers feelings bullshit that wimpy current era writers do. I’ve been writing this series since the 1970s and I ain’t gonna dumb it down because, some child who shouldn’t bee reading it to begin with might get upset that my characters are too evil.

These are apex predators.

The same way a lion does not feel guilty about eating a gazelle, Quaraun does not feel guilty about harvesting brains. BoomFuzzy isn’t secretly hoping humans will understand him. GhoulSpawn isn’t waiting for a redemption arc. They’re predators. Humans are livestock. The stories are simply told from the livestock farmer’s point of view instead of the cow’s.


(Near) Daily Vlogs can be found on TikTok and YouTube:

Seen in image: 

- IMAGE 1: The Pink Necromancer, Thullid Infested Moon Elf silk weaver, travelling merchant, & Royal Court Mage of The UnSeelie Court: Quaraun Swanzen on Noodle Beach. With his unhinged temper, his 12 foot long prehensile, venomous jellyfish tentacle hair, his deadly laser wand, and his inability to stay sober long enough to cast a spell properly, he is the most feared being in the known universe. Quaraun is literally a Space JellyFish (A Thullid) whom has taken control of the corpse of a dead Elf.

In the year 2525, a comet struck the Moon. Now, in 40th century Maine, Earth is frozen, the Moon is fractured, and UnDead Lobsters are a serious problem. And then there's Quaraun: The Pink Necromancer. Most feared super villain on Earth. Possibly the galaxy. Maybe ever. But all he wants is tea, silk embroidery, and a calm evening in his lighthouse.

- IMAGE 2: Master Chef Phooka turned Lich King of The UnSeelie Court: King Gwallmaiic aka BoomFuzzy the Unicorn with his 1968 VW Bus Beach Noodle Food Truck. He is king of the entire fucking planet. Defy him and he'll serve you as the main course of the next UnSeelie Court feast. The world's only known Unicorn, in his true form he is a tiny lilac coloured Shetland Pony with a gleaming silver horn. In his Lich form he is a blue crystal skeleton of a Friesian stallion. 

BoomFuzzy, the Unicorn Lich King of the UnSeelie Court, is Quaraun's dead husband. Technically dead. Officially terrifying. Unofficially the best baker left in the apocalypse.

- IMAGE 3: The Satyr-like, mad scientist Sheep Demon: Gremorse Liore aka GhoulSpawn with his 1974 AMC Gremlin time machine. He is Quaraun's apprentice, and fast becoming the most powerful wizard in the universe.

GhoulSpawn, their brilliant, baffled companion, fell through time from 1978 and never found the way home. Now he juggles tech repairs, running from zombies, and being madly in love with the two most dangerous men of the apocalypse.

 - Art by Wendy Christine Allen. 

- Not seen here: Toobe: a deceptively innocent looking tiny flying silver metal orb that hoovers around GhoulSpawn, giving science reports and scanning for dangers, Toobe is a sadistically insane sentient AI from thirteen thousand years in the future, who is the real brains behind the plot of global domination.

Not sure which story to start with? These here are good places to start, to get a good introduction to the three main characters:

  • Spirit-Walk Slippers

The Adventures of Quaraun The Insane - A Pink Necromancer Short Fiction Story 

Domestic Lives of Dangerous Faeries - LGBTQAI+ Queer MPreg Cozy Fantasy Fiction w a F2M Elf Wizard, a Gay Faerie Chef, & a BiSexual Demon Time Traveller, Free To Read Online

Series Trigger Warnings:

 * Polyamorous married gay couple and their live-in lover

 * Intersex main character, who lives as a trans man

 * Furry Yaoi 

 * Characters often drink, swear, use drugs, and smoke hookahs.

 * Transman Mpreg

Not all things appear in all stories. 

Series Heat Level:

 * Short Stories: Sweet, Fluffy, Lime, or Limon

 * Novellas: Lime, Limon, Orange

 * Novels: Orange, Lemon

What is the series about?

It's three god-level, planet destroying, alien invader Space Elf, Space Faerie, Space Demon megalomaniac super villain bumbling wizards, and their ship's crew (The UnSeelie Court) with big global domination plans, whom have invaded 40th century Earth, settled in a lighthouse in Maine, started a zombie apocalypse, are hellbent on destroying all Humans and taking over the planet, but are never getting anything done because they are too busy throwing temper tantrums, having hissy fits, and flinging food, sea slugs, insults, and sexual tension at each other, to ever get around to destroying the planet.

It's slice-of-life survival horror in a post-apocalyptic necromantic dictatorship, told through dysfunctional domestic intimacy between soul-stealing villains who rule the world. Welcome to the spiralling madness of Quaraun’s eldritch, sensory-heavy, character-driven, neurotic, dysfunctional, intimate, sugar-dusted Fae-punk world. This is the hostile, dystopian, necromantic, and hyper-sensory domestic horror of Quaraun’s everyday life with BoomFuzzy (and sometimes GhoulSpawn), in a grim world ruled by undead Faerie warlords where society has collapsed and survival is brutal, intimate, and corrupt, and Humans are often on the menu of UnSeelie Court feasts.




While there are around 20k pages on this website, most of them are blocked from search engines, with only around 800 of them available for appearing in Google/Bing/etc search results. The remainder can only be accessed via the various links found throughout this site. This was done deliberately on my part, and I did it because the bulk of the pages on this website are chapters from 138 novels and 423 novellas, so only the first page of each novel and novella indexed by search engines, and the remainder are linked in order, one page at a time, via clicking "next page" at the end of each. So if you are looking for a specific page from a specific novel, Google can't help you.



Thank you for stopping by and have a nice day! ꧁✨🌸🔮🦄🔮🌸✨꧂

And if it’s your birthday today: ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐꧁ᴴᵃᵖᵖʸ☆ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ꧂🤍🎀🧸🌷🍭

Wendy Christine Allen 🌸💖🦄 aka EelKat 🧿💛🔮👻
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Wheelchair Fundraiser

@eelkat

i just found out there is yet another bizarre rumour going around. where are these wild rumours coming from? who is starting them? and why?

♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author
@eelkat

since I've been flooded with hundreds of messages the past two weeks asking if I still own "the world's most haunted car", yes, and here it is, filmed today May 18, 2026… but my son Xavier is dead, i am crippled and given that people are AGAIN showing up calling my Dodge "haunted", calling my friend "an alien", calling me "transgender", and spreading wild defamation slander connecting me to Stephen King, I think I need to start taking down the contact information of every blogger, podcaster, youtuber, and social media account spreading these rumors, and sue every single one of them for CAUSING my car to be cut in half May 10, 2010, for CAUSING the backhoe that drove over my house August 8, 2013, for CAUSING my son's murder November 14, 2013, for CAUSING me to be crippled and in a wheelchair November 14, 2013, and for CONTINUING to CAUSE harassers to show up in person to harass me near daily, STILL now in 2026. EVERYONE telling you my car is haunted, telling you my friend is an alien, calling my car "the goldeneagle", calling my friend "Etiole", or trying to connect me or my car to Stephen King, is lying to you. They crippled me when I was 8 months pregnant, and a woman with a golf club, severed my spine and bashed my baby's head in, I spent 9 years relearning to walk, and the FBI is 13 years into the murder investigation and not yet identified the attacker who crippled me and killed my baby, both violently with a golf club and the FBI believes that it is friends and family of the woman who did it, are the ones who started and spread the rumors saying my car is haunted, saying I'm an alien abductee, saying all kinds of similar bs about aliens, ufos, ghosts, witchcraft, demons, and Stephen King connections, even though I don't believe in ghosts, aliens, ufos, demons, and had never heard of Stephen King before 30k of his fans showed up in my yard trying to find my car! FBI believes the backhoe driver and the murderer are the same person and it is a developer who wanted my land and so started the Stephen King, ghost, and alien rumors all in an attempt to drive me off my land, and when it didn't work they drove a backhoe over my house, and when that didn't work they crippled me and killed my son. Why are they doing this? How do I get them to stop?

♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author






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Get an email whenever Wendy Christine Allen 🌸💖🦄 aka EelKat 🧿💛🔮👻 publishes on Medium.

I also write on these locations: | Amazon | Ao3 | Blogger | GumRoad | Medium | Notd | OnlyFans | Tumblr | Vocal |



Do you know who drove this backhoe over my house at 146 Portland Avenue, Old Orchard Beach, Maine on August 8, 2013? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.

My house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, July 4, 2013, photo taken because we had just finished building a baby room on the back. vs My house August 8, 2013, when the same group of people (yes group, the golf club woman was not alone when she attacked November 14, 2013, nor was she alone with her second attack July 2016.) who murdered my son on November 14, 2013 at Southern Maine Community College and crippled me July 26, 2016 at scarborough WalMart,... they arrived the first time with a backhoe on August 8, 2013, that they used to drive over my house, during a time of day that I normally was home asleep... I had to work a different shift at the Waffle Cone Pizza Food Truck at George's Parking Lot by Bill's Pizza at the OBB Peir, that day, otherwise, I too would be at the bottom of a landfill, along with my house and everything I owned that was also in the house. I was 5 months pregnant at the time and have been homeless for just under 14 years, homeless ever since....

... which means it is now only a few weeks from the 14th anniversary of my son's murder. I was 8 month pregnant November 14, 2013, and a student ay SMCC, and coming out of the Buglight Lighthouse art studio after art class, when a still unidentifiedwoman wielding a golf club attacked me, severed my spine, while I was 8 months pregnant, triggered early labour, then killed my son minutes after he was born.

While accusing me of being transgender, screaming "transvestite freak" and "look at that thing, that's Ken's son in a dress"... while I was 8 months pregnant.

eelkats_house_before_after.jpgMy house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, July 4, 2013, photo taken because we had just finished building a baby room on the back. vs My house August 8, 2013, when the same group of people (yes group, the golf club woman was not alone when she attacked November 14, 2013, nor was she alone with her second attack July 2016.) who murdered my son and crippled me, arrived the first time with a backhoe that they used to drive over my house, during a time of day that I normally was home asleep... I had to work a different shift at the Waffle Cone Pizza Food Truck at George's Parking Lot by Bill's Pizza at the OBB Peir, that day, otherwise, I too would be at the bottom of a landfill, along with my house and everything I owned that was also in the house. I was 5 months pregnant at the time and have been homeless for just under 14 years, homeless ever since.

The backhoe driver returned November 14, 2013, armed with a golf club, used it to break my spine and smash my baby's brains out on the ground

On November 14, 2013, my son was murdered. I was 8 months pregnant, leaving my college classroom, and just getting into my car, when 3 strangers, a man and two women, armed with golf clubs leapt out from behind my car screaming "kill or be killed, kill the transvestite freaks, kill them all before they kill us! look at that thing! That is Ken's son, look at how it's dressed! kill the transvestite freaks! kill or be killed"... while the bald man and the red haired woman chanted this over and over, the blonde woman, lunged with the golf club.

She severed my spine, I am now a quadriplegic, and been paralyzed arms and legs, and in a wheelchair for 13 years now. She broke my hips, my knees, my legs, ruptured most of my discs, and shattered three of my vertebrae so bad that the shards of bone acted like glass and embedded themselves into my spinal column nerve bundle.

The attack also triggered labour.

My son was born in that parking lot, and he lived only a couple of minutes, before the deranged blonde woman, beat his head in and smashed his brains out, with the same golfclub she had just used to sever my spine and leave me crippled for the rest of my life.

Realizing that I was not transgender, and they'd just murdered a baby, the man grabbed the 2 women and forcibly dragged them away to a 4 door white pickup truck, and they left me there to die.

The FBI told me later, that a few weeks before this attack, and transwoman, had murdered a cis woman, in a parking lot, abou 20 miles away from where I was attacked. The FBI, believes that my attackers, had somehow found out I wrote transgender fiction, connecting my real name to my penname, (my father's name is in fact "Ken", and I do have a brother) and believed that I wrote transgender fiction, because I was myself transgender, even though I'm not transgender. The FBI, believes the attackers, thought I was my brother, pretending to be a woman.

The FBI investigation, into my son's murder, has dragged on for 13 years, and still now in 2026, continues on, with the FBI, still not having yet identified my attackers, and only guessing at what their motive was.

Thus we come to 2014, and the full swing change of the series I write. WHY my series, went from just a transman main character living life, to the full blown Mpreg genre series that it now is today.

Before the attack, I had a chance of having a baby. I don't know. And because I'm in America, I'm too old to adopt. You have to be under 45 years old to adopt a baby. That is the law in America. I was informed this, when we tried to adopt, now that my injuries leave me unable to get pregnant a 9th time.

Thus began my obsessively writing, my transman main character, pregnant. Always pregnant now. Every time. Every story. Stories that now fully focus on pregnancy, labour, miscarriages, babies dying, babies living, raising babies... the whole series, since 2014 has devolved into an outright baby obsession.

Meanwhile, reborn baby dolls were suggested to me by my therapist, and have also become a deeply obsessive part of my life. Because 13 years ago my son was murdered minutes after he was born, because a transphobic bigot mistook me for being transgender, I'm STILL in a wheelchair, struggling to relearn to use my arms and legs, now 13 years later, and I'm still DAILY dealing with police officers and FBI agents who while they are trying to find my son's killer, they are also daily reminding me... oh, yeah, my son was murdered, literally ripped out of my belly, by a transphobe. Who still has not been located and walks free to kill again.

The golfclub woman as she looked during the golf club attack at Southern Maine community college November 14, 2013. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026.

Clairescreenshot.pngIf you have any information about the identity of this child murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322

The golfclub woman as she looked during the shopping cart attack at Scarborough WalMart July 26, 2016. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026.

zzzz999ClaireRed2016-screenshotIf you have any information about the identity of this child murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322

The 2nd woman as she looked at both attacks, her hair goes all the way down to her knees. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026.

Kendrascreenshot.pngIf you have any information about the identity of this child murderer's accomplice, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322

Do you know who these two woman who crippled me and murdered my baby, at Southern Maine Community College at 10PM on November 14, 2013, are, and what their connection to the backhoe that drove over my house is? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.

I am a legally blind quadriplegic, and low verbal, I have also published 138 novels in the last 48 years. It's not as impossible as people think. The problem being blind and quadriplegic, medically have different meanings then how those two words are used medically.

Fewer than 3% of all blind people see nothing. While 97% people who are classified as fully blind are able to see up to two feet in front of them. Legally blind means I can see more then two feet in front of me but not far enough to see twenty feet in front of me. In my case I can see about eight feet.

Quadriplegic, has varying levels, it means having a damaged nerve bundle in the spinal column causing limited mobility of all 4 limbs, (in my case this was done by a women wielding a golf club, who also beat my 8 month infant's head to pulp on the parking lot tarmak, at the same time she severed my spine with the same golf club; both on November 14, 2013; the FBI investigation into my son's murder and my being crippled has gone on now for 13 years, a few weeks away from 14 years now, and the FBI has still not identified the killer or her motive). Contrary to popular misconception, quadriplegic does NOT mean ZERO movement, it means means limited movement, specifically in means unable to lift arms over head, unable to grip fingers around objects to pick them up, and unable to stand for more then 5 minutes to a time. Because there are so many thousands of nerves in each limb it is actually very rare for there to be 100% no movement, but how much, and to what extent varies by patent depending upon the specific point of injury to the spinal column.

Meaning typing is still possible for over 60% of all quadriplegics.

In my case, it was the lower spine that was severed, cutting off completly my ability to move my right leg, leaving limited feeling in my left leg, and an ability to stand but not walk, with crutches, for the first 9 years. I regained enough nerve growth in my legs by the 9th year to be able to take ten or twelve steps allowing me to get out of bed for the first time since the golf club attack; This in turn lead to me being able to start using a wheelchair, as I was able to sit upright for the first time as well.

Because the shattered vertebrae bone fragments are broken off completly and embedded into the nerve bundle just above my tailbone, doctors were saying I would never walk again, but now at 13 years, I am able to push mu wheelchair like a walker, a distance of almost a thousand steps a day. Though doctors are still doubtful I will ever walk "normally" again, I have proven them wrong, when their said 13 years ago, that I would never walk again at all.

But because of the placement of the damage to my spine, regaining hand use, was always thought possible, it was just a matter of waiting long enough for nerve regrowth, along side daily finger exercises. I was able to continue writing, after becoming quadriplegic, because I still have use of my right thumb, and 2 fore figures of my right hand. And can type 90 words per minute with those 3 fingers.

I however have no wrist strength, elbow strength, or shoulder strength, so I am not able to form a fist, or lift objects, or brush my hair, or my teeth, all thing I have to have my caretaker do. But, those things are not needed for typing. Unfortunately, my pinky and ring fingers are "nerve dead" and drag over the keyboard, and cause horrific spelling errors and typos, which are incredibly frustrating to deal with.

Unfortunately trying to edit errors myself, just makes the errors worse, because those same two fingers drag over the keyboard yet again. Prior to the golf club attack, I rarely had spelling errors; now I got more spelling errors then someone is learning English as second language. Editing is a challenge, that I've had to accept, I simply can not do myself, and I have to hire several editors to help with that.

Low verbal means sounds can still be made, sounds that software programs like Dragon can be trained to recognize and translate, and type into full words. More then half my novels were typed with this method.

I still have a long ways to go before I am anything close to being able to do the things I could do before the golf club woman beat my baby's brains out and shattered my spine. And you know what's more frustrating then how slow mu medical progression has been? The fact that it's been 13 years and the police and FBI are still coming up at dead ends as to who the woman who murdered my baby was, or why she even did it.

My son's 14th birthday is only a few weeks away, but he didn't even get to live long enough to celebrate his 1st birthday, I don't even know why. And I can't wait to regain my ability to walk again, because regaining my ability to walk, means gaining the ability to go outside and start looking for my son's murderer myself instead of sitting at home trapped in a wheelchair waiting for the police and FBI to to find her. So, writing isn't a big priority for me anymore. I only write now, as a way to exercise my hands, in between relearning to walk.

Never let a disability stop you. Plenty of writers, artists, athletes, do not let either blindness, speech impediments, or limited mobility hold then back from perusing their careers.

Do you know who these two woman who crippled me and murdered my baby, at Southern Maine Community College at 10PM on November 14, 2013, are, and what their connection to the backhoe that drove over my house is? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.

Important:

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All the writing prompts found here on my website, are also available in printed paperback editions, on Amazon.

There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.