Greetings and salutations, my darling heathen sluts!
As you might have noticed, Esmerelda hasn’t had many erotic adventures recently. In fact, she hasn’t banged anyone since last March, and there’s a few good reasons for that. For one, I got divorced, which fucking sucked. I’m not going to write about it all over again (if you’d like to catch up on the details of my agony, you can read all about it here and here), but as you can imagine, it is quite hard to write sexy things in the unsexiest of times. My bad!
As shitty as the reasons behind my hiatus, it was sorely needed. When I first came up with the concept of The Erotic Edible Adventures of Esmerelda Poppingcorn, I had intended it to be a convoluted parody of rom-coms, food media, and Sasquatch porn. I had an entire year of stories, recipes and erotic crossword puzzles all mapped out. But then, after a few short weeks of living in Esmerelda’s world, things got weirder than I could ever have possibly imagined. And if you were familiar with my writing before this erotic adventure began, you understand how terrifying that sentence is.
After spending some time in Esmerelda’s hometown, I realized it wasn’t boring or nameless at all. It was a vibrant, magical place called Lake Nipples — a place filled with mystery, intrigue, and characters I couldn’t walk away from. A brand new story entered my head that was far more interesting, far more complicated, and waaaaaaaaaaay dumber. Seriously, I cannot overstate how fucking dumb this story is, and honestly, I’m pretty goddamn impressed with myself.
After rebuilding my personal life, I got straight back to rebuilding Lake Nipples. Storywise, this meant going back and re-editing every chapter, sprucing things up and making some tweaks reflecting the new and theoritcially-improved lore. While you don’t necessarily have to re-read everything to prepare yourself for the next chapter, it would be kinda fun if you did, now wouldn’t it? Remember the six- to seven hundred birds and that whole ham thing? Boy, those were some good times!
Format-wise, there’s going to be a few minor changes:
Emails will now be coming from Lake Nipples — not The Edible Erotic Adventures of Esmerelda Poppingcorn. But even though the name has changed doesn’t mean things are getting any less edible or erotic! It does mean, however, that you need to bookmark a different URL (this being important, highly-legitimate literature you turn to time and time again), and you’ll need to keep your eyes peeled for the brand spankin' new chapter will be in your inboxes shortly.
I will not be posting new chapters on a rigid schedule. Though I’d love nothing more than to splash around in the crystal blue waters of Lake Nipples every day, I’m a single mom now, and high-quality food porn (shockingly) don’t pay the bills. And I intend to take as much time as I need to keep it high-quality! Do you guys want me to be half-assing this shit? You’ll get what you get when you get it, and you’ll fucking like it.
Any bonus content that contains important information related to the story (like this!) will now be free to everyone…
…but you still gotta pay for the for the porn parts, and holy fuck is it going to get so, so much worse. I know that might not be the best sales pitch, but I also don’t want to get sued for “emotional distress,” or have internet randos doxxing me because I “ruined Hot Pockets.”
Now that that’s out of the way, welcome back to Lake Nipples! Thank you so much for your patience as I got back on my feet, and for your support as I got this freight train to hell back on track. Time to buckle up, bitches. Shit’s about to get nuts.
— Allison
P.S. In case you were wondering: Esmerelda was originally supposed to blow through her boring, nameless hometown, then return to her life as a jet-setting OSHA inspector travelling all over the country, having salicious, sexy adventures along the way. There was going to be a classic love triangle, an obscene Cinco de Mayo fajita fiesta, and a Thanksgiving orgy involving six OSHA inspectors and seven piping-hot sides. In the end Esmerelda was going to end up in a healthy, communicative polycule, and then I wasn’t sure what would come after that. Maybe nothing. And wouldn’t that have been sad?