Saturday, December 29, 2012

Jackson in HRPG-World: 3-4 A Sticky Starting Scrap

Hmm.  This was originally only supposed to be four to five chapters, but it appears Suraimo really likes playing with her opponents.  The usual NSFW and git-gone-if-you're-younger-than-18 rules apply.

Jackson in HRPG-World: 3-4 A Sticky Starting Scrap.

“Want a second service?” she asked.  “How about I use these?”

She cupped her hands around her substantial blue breasts and squeezed them together.

Jackson’s cock sprang to attention in his pants.

Give it a rest, he thought.  She’s made out of bright blue jello.

It’s not sexy.

She gave him a suggestive smile as she reached down and unbuttoned his pants.  They fell to the floor and Jackson’s erection flopped free.

Look.  It’s not sexy.

His other head had a different idea on that.  It bobbed around on the end of a hardening shaft.

Suraimo ran a tongue over plush blue lips and mischief glittered in her eyes.  She crouched down until her swollen boobs were level with his waist.  She held them apart and Jackson’s cock twitched in the space between them.

It’s not—

Suraimo brought her tits together with a wet splodge, sandwiching Jackson’s cock.


She absorbed his member.  Jackson looked down and saw it resting between the transparent bulges of her enormous boobs.  He felt their soft elasticity pressing all around him as Suraimo squeezed them together.

He saw the control panel is his mind again.  A message he couldn’t read flashed up.  There was a number, 4, he could read buried amongst the moon runes.  He also noticed there was a green bar on the bottom left.  Somewhere between a fifth and a quarter of its length dropped off the end.

Ah, so that must be his life bar.  The one on the right must be hers.

So hit her.

He looked at the commands and tried to work out which one would allow him to do that.

Fuck it.  Screw the control panel.  She was kneeling in front of him—a sitting duck.  All he had to do was lift up the massive sword and stab it straight down.  Easy.

Do it!


Nothing happened.

Okay, another unreadable message flashed up.  But there were no numbers, no change to her life bar and the stupid sword remained resolutely nowhere near plunging down into her back.

“That doesn’t work when you’re bound,” Suraimo said.

She squished her boobs together and jiggled them around his cock.  Jackson felt her soft curves rub against him.  Another chunk fell off his life bar.

This wasn’t going right at all.

Hold on.  It was a pervy Japanese hentai game.  Maybe he was supposed to be using his other ‘sword’.

Instead of trying to pull away from her, he tensed his buttocks and thrust his hard cock deeper into the gelatinous substance of her chest.

Didn’t expect that, huh.

Suraimo smiled with delight.  “So eager.  Are slime girls your fetish?”

What?  Wait . . .

Jackson realized he was completely stuck between her breasts now.  He couldn’t pull out.  They swelled up of their own accord and pressed tightly all around his erection.

“In that case I’ll give you a really pleasant service.”  Suraimo smiled up at him with eyes full of filthy intent.

Her breasts throbbed around his cock.  He felt it all the way down in his balls.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Suraimo said.  “I’m not supposed to have a paizuri attack, but there’s only so many tentacle handjobs a girl can give out before it starts to get boring.”

Her boobs pulsed and her cleavage clenched tightly around him.  So tight her breasts melted together and his cock was absorbed into the thick liquid suction of her body.  Shudders ran through him.  He erupted inside her.  This time she helped him with the ejaculation.  The molten swell of her breasts throbbed against him like bellows, prolonging his orgasm and drawing more semen from his cock even after he thought the flow was subsiding.

Mewling in pleasure, Suraimo wrapped her arms around Jackson’s ass and pressed her wet breasts into his lap.  He continued to spurt inside the warm gelatinous substance of her chest.  A dense white cloud was blooming inside her blue body and his knees were feeling wobbly.  He couldn’t fall over; Suraimo had wrapped the whole of his lower body in curtains of thick, elastic slime.

“Oh, sugoi,” Suraimo sighed.  Her eyes were shut and there was a red flush on her cheeks.  Jackson had no idea where that had come from, it wasn’t as if she had blood vessels.

The flow finally ebbed away to a trickle and Jackson watched the fluffy white cloud dissipate through her body.  Suraimo looked up at him, her eyes bright.

“You lost,” she said.  “Time for your Bad End.”

The lines of her body softened and started to wriggle up Jackson’s exposed flesh.


He was back on the cloudy plane with the sad big tits angel.  She opened her mouth to—


The big tits angel sent him back to the woodland path with a smile full of hope.

Suraimo was waiting for him.  “You skipped the H-scene again,” she said.  “I told you to be careful with the skip button.  Now you’ll have to lose to me again if you want to see it.”

Not this time.  Jackson was ready.  No more surprise attacks gluing his feet to the floor.  He was prepared.  The moment she’d tried that shit he was going to jump—

Suraimo Torapo!

Jackson’s feet were glued to the floor.

Motherfucker!  How could she move so fast?

Suraimo giggled as her slime bubbled up between his toes and covered his ankles.  A little bit of Jackson’s life bar fell away.  She sent her layer of slime up past his knees and then dutifully waited for him to take his action.

Okay, let’s think about this.  Jackson studied the control panel.

“Are you sure you understood Aerias’s instructions?” Suraimo asked.

“Shut it, I’m thinking,” Jackson snapped back.

Let’s be methodical about this.  He’d tried the top option from both the first and second column and it hadn’t done anything.  The second and fourth options on the left were grayed out and couldn’t be selected.  What about the third option, the funny squiggle?  He hadn’t tried that one yet.

He selected it.

His hips and legs moved of their own accord.  He stepped backwards and this time the slimy constraints of her body felt more like wet mud than industrial strength rubber covered in super glue.  He struggled free.

Suraimo clapped her hands and giggled.  “Yay!  You figured out how to get free.”

And now the tide turns.

to be continued . . .

"The tide turns?"  I think you're being a wee bit optimistic there, Jackson.

Saturday, December 22, 2012

Jackson in HRPG-World: 3-3 A Sticky Starting Scrap

I'm actually ahead of schedule, for once.

Jackson in HRPG-World: 3-3 A Sticky Starting Scrap

Jackson squirmed again in a fruitless attempt to get free.

Fucking great.  He was stuck in some sick puppy’s perverted hentai game and he didn’t have the faintest idea how to play it.

He focused on the control panel superimposed over his vision.  He was stuck having to play these games by their rules.  That’s how it went.  One of the options must allow him to dice the bitch.  All he had to do was guess which one.  If it wasn’t the top action on the left then it must be the top one on the right.  He selected it.

Nothing happened.

The slime girl laughed.  “Ha ha.  I knew you were just like all the others.”

A pseudopod reared up and dived into his junk with a wet splodge.  Jackson jerked backwards involuntarily.  It was not a sensation he was expecting.  Given the slimy nature of her body he’d expected something cold and unpleasantly squishy.  Or worse, an acidic burning.  Instead it felt sort of . . . nice.

Her jelly had engulfed the whole of his cock.  Like a mouth had opened in the end of her tentacle and she’d sucked him in.  He felt the warm, moist and soft substance of her body wrapped around him.  He could even still see his penis.  He saw it lengthening into an erection through her transparent blue skin.  He watched his foreskin move back and forth as her amorphous appendage sucked and tugged on him.

His cock was inside her slime.  He should pull it out before she did something nasty, like dissolve it or some scary shit like that.

The tentacle bulged as more of the amorphous material of her body flowed up and enveloped his cock in a warm, gelid grip.  It felt really good.

In a moment, Jackson thought.

The slime giggled.  “They always like to lose first time round, naughty boys,” she said.

Bulges in the tentacle moved back and forth as she masturbated him.

“Ha ha,” the slime girl said.  “Soon I’ll take you to—”

“Uh,” Jackson said.  He felt his cock throb as he expelled a glob of cloudy semen right into the liquid interior of her tentacle.

“Oh,” the slime girl said, her mouth forming a surprised o.  “Whoops.  My fault.  I should have gone easier on you.  Your repressive Western culture mustn’t allow you much experience of games like this.”

Jackson didn’t have the faintest idea what she was talking about.  He did know he’d just jizzed right inside her slimy tentacle and that was just fucking wrong.

More of her slime flowed right down to the end of the tentacle.  It bunched up around the root of his cock, forming a soft cuff.  She rolled it up his shaft and squeezed out the last dribbles of cum left in his pipes.  Jackson watched as the little splatters of cum floating within her slime were drawn down the tentacle and up into her main body.

“Mmm, tasty,” she said as the little clouds of his semen dissolved and were absorbed by her semi-liquid flesh.

“Is it my turn now?” Jackson asked.  All the command options had gone away.

The slime girl looked surprised.  “Turn?  It’s over.  You came, you lost.”

“What?” Jackson complained.  “That’s not fair.  I didn’t understand the controls.”

“It’s not the end of the game,” the slime girl laughed.  “You can repeat the same fight over and over.”  Her face took on a very lewd expression.  “Actually, that’s kind of the whole point.”

She slithered towards him.  More tentacles budded off her blue body and reached out for his immobilized body.

“But first: You came, you lost, now it’s time to enjoy your Bad End.”

Her expression was now really lewd . . . really lewd and hungry.

Bad End?  Jackson didn’t like the sound of that at all.  Japs were freaks, everyone knew that.  This end scene could be anything, even her absorbing him and melting his face off.  Having to watch that would be bad enough, but actually being in the game and experiencing it firsthand . . .

Panicking, Jackson checked the control panel.  Wait, there were some commands he recognized, up on the right, just above the main message window.  Save and . . .


The slime girl opened her arms to embrace him.  Her tentacles slithered around his body.

Skip skip skip skip SKIIIIP!

The slime girl’s eyes widened in surprise.  “You’re skipping the sex scene?  Who does—”

The woodland path vanished and Jackson found himself back on the featureless, cloudy plane with the big tits angel.  She looked sad.

Alas, poor Ian Jackson, Jackson thought.  The unlucky adventurer had all the flesh melted off his bones by a skanky slime girl.  Or some other shit like that.

The angel opened her mouth and started speaking to Jackson in moonspeak.  Not again, couldn’t he just—

Hey wait, the skip option was here too.  Sweet.


Jackson went straight to the end of the angel’s speech.  She’d stopped looking sad and instead had a smile full of positivity and hope.

Go forth and cube the slimy skank, Jackson imagined her saying in a squeaky voice.

The angel and the cloudy plane faded out and Jackson was back on the woodland path with the battle music playing in the background.  A blue splodge landed on the center of the path and bounced up into the jiggling form of a super-hot babe.

“Ready for the rematch?” she asked.

Huh?   How would she know it was a rematch?  That was the whole point of continue.  It rewound the player back to the point before they’d gotten themselves squished.  So how could she know about things that technically hadn’t even happened?

“And be careful with the skip button,” she said.  “You skipped the H-scene last time.”

Well d’uh.  Like he wanted to watch his dick get melted off.

“I’m Suraimo,” the slime girl said.  “I don’t think we had a chance to introduce ourselves last time.”

Jackson didn’t say anything.

“The silent type, how delicious,” Suraimo said.  “Have you got the hang of the controls now?”

Jackson raised his stupidly large and probably shit sword.  He could do this.  The game might be in Japanese, but she was only a low-level monster—the tutorial battle.  He could do this.  He was going to dice her into little blue cubes . . . cautiously.

“Okay, let’s go.  Suraimo Torapo!”

Jackson was stuck in a blue puddle of slime.  Again.

Great.  He twisted and pulled, but couldn’t get his body free.  Suraimo’s hips swayed from side to side as she glided towards him.

“Want a second service?” she asked.  “How about I use these?”

She cupped her hands around her substantial blue breasts and squeezed them together.

to be continued . . .

Thursday, December 20, 2012

Book Review: Adam Nevill - Apartment 16

This fella appears to be picking up a bit of buzz recently.  His most recent book, The Ritual, was one of the winners at this year’s British Fantasy Society awards and this one was nominated last year.  He’s also the first new horror (proper horror, not sparkly vamp’n’woof romance) writer I’ve seen appear in the horror section of my local Waterstones in what seems like forever.  He’s also good.  Apartment 16 is a cracker of a book.  A modern ghost story might be a close enough description, but Nevill never allows the book to get bogged down and doesn’t shirk from describing graphic and disturbing imagery.

The plot follows the converging paths of two characters.  Apryl is a young woman over from the States to claim an inheritance from a previously unknown great aunt.  While going through her aunt’s belonging she uncovers a disturbing history to the ancient apartment complex her aunt lived in.  Seth is a failed artist working as the night-shift guard at the same building and slowly falling under the influence of the evil that permeates the building.  Don’t be put off if that sounds uninspiring.  Nevill’s vivid descriptions and concept of an afterlife as black and as cold as a distant dead star elevates what could have been a humdrum, staid idea into a highly effective chiller.  Definitely one for when the nights grow longer and colder.  I’ll definitely be adding more of Mr Nevill’s books to my reading list.

Monday, December 17, 2012

Jackson in HRPG-World: 3-2 A Sticky Starting Scrap

Jackson in HRPG-World: 3-2 A Sticky Starting Scrap

The blue blob bobbed and quivered.  Protoplasm erupted out of the top and formed into the shape of a sexy young woman with humongous, jiggling boobies.

Jackson’s mouth fell open.

He'd fought blue slimes before.  They were bouncing teardrops with googly eyes that looked like they'd been drawn by a five-year-old.  This . . . didn't.

She—and it was definitely a she—was the same height as him.  She was bright blue and partially transparent.  He could see the bushes and trees behind her through her body.  Their shapes were blurry and distorted by her curves.

She had curves—wow did she have curves—and they were in all the right places.  Her figure reminded Jackson of the high school cheerleaders he’d lusted after even though he’d known he never stood a chance.  She jiggled and wobbled on the path as if she’d been freshly popped from a mold taken from the body cast of a curvaceous glamour model.  A babe made out of jello.  A jello babe.

Fucking game developers again, Jackson thought.  Always obsessed with the T & A because they couldn’t get any in the real world.  He gripped the hilt of his shitty starting sword.  It was a damn shame, but he was going to have to dice Ms. Jello 2013 into little cubes.

The slime girl said something to him in moonspeak.

Don’t understand, don’t care, Jackson thought.  He lifted up his sword and . . .

. . . found himself standing on a featureless cloudy plane with the big tits angel floating in front of him.

Great, the battle tutorial.

The angel asked him some questions in moonspeak.  Jackson smiled, nodded his head and pretended to understand.  Obviously he didn’t, but if he told the big tits angel that then she’d repeat the instructions over and over until he collapsed of old age.

He didn’t need the instructions anyway.  It was a stupid JRPG.  They were all the same.  They all had the same commands.  Attack, Magic, Item, Run Away.  It was the same every fucking time.  So Jackson smiled, nodded his head and waited for the big tits angel to send him back so he could splatter Ms. Jelly Tits all over the pre-rendered backdrops exactly the same as he’d done to all the other bouncing blue retards.

The angel finished her piece and Jackson was sent back to the path.  The blue girl stood in front of him with her hands on her hips.  Naked blue girl, Jackson amended.  Naked blue girl with a level of anatomical detail that would usually get a game artist in a lot of trouble.

The blue girl smiled at him and asked him yet another question he didn’t understand.  Annoyed at being teleported all over the place and having to listen to people jabber moonspeak at him, Jackson finally snapped.

“Doesn’t anyone speak American in this stupid fucking game!” he yelled at the sky.

“Oh,” the slime girl said.  “A Westerner.  What are you doing playing an Eastern game in the original nihongo?” she asked in perfect English.

Jackson gawped at her.

“It’s okay, I know why,” she said.  “They don’t allow you to make games like this in the West because they’re afraid children might get their hands on them and grow up crazy.  It’s so unfortunate to have to live in such a repressive regime.  If you want a little harmless fun you have to seek it out elsewhere.  And . . .”

She pressed her ample boobs together and leaned forward to fully emphasize her jaw-dropping cleavage.

“ . . . pictures are the universal language.”

Jackson’s jaw dropped.

“Lucky for you I speak American,” the slime girl continued.  “That’s why they made my scene part of the trial,” she added proudly.

Jackson continued to stare at her tits.  That was some pair, even if they were blue and see-through.

She squished them closer together.  They looked a little more . . . elastic than a normal girl’s.  “Are these fine?” she asked.  “Would you like them bigger?  Or smaller?  Is this height okay?  I know some Western boys get a little intimidated if the girl is taller than them.  I can change to be shorter if that’s what you prefer.”

Jackson stared at her in bafflement.  He might understand the words now, but he still had no fucking clue what she was talking about.

“Aren’t we supposed to be fighting?” he asked.

“Oh yes, the ‘fight’.”  She even signaled the inverted commas like an MTV Valley Girl.  “Okay.  It’s my surprise attack so I get to go first.”

Jackson felt something wet and sticky squish up between his toes.  He looked down and saw the slime girl had formed a puddle beneath his feet and he was standing right in the middle of it.  He tried to lift a foot and managed only a couple of inches.  It was like standing on a glue trap.

Suraimo Torapo,” the girl said.  “I’ve got you now.”

Jackson couldn’t pull free.  The slime oozed up over his feet and ankles, forming a thick elastic sheath that kept his feet stuck together.

“Up I go,” the slime girl teased.

The rising sheath of slime crawled up to his thighs.  Then it stopped.  Jackson twisted and squirmed, but couldn’t break through.  Smiling, the slime girl watched him . . .

. . . and watched . . .

. . . and watched . . .

. . . until after a while she feigned a yawn.  “Come on,” she said.  “I haven’t got all day.”

Jackson looked at her glistening, transparent body with a baffled expression on his face.

“It’s your turn,” she explained.  “Aren’t you going to do anything?”

“Huh,” Jackson said.  He paused his fruitless efforts to lift his feet.  He was totally stuck.

“Your action.  Unless you want to skip it,” she added with a suggestive smile.

Of course.  Stupid turn-based combat, Jackson thought.  They had to take it in turns to attack.  It didn’t make any sense, but then neither did hos with porn star bodies made out of transparent blue jello.

He became aware of a control panel superimposed over his vision.  There it was.  All he had to do was select a command action from the list.

Unfortunately, they were all in moon runes.  There were seven choices in all—four on the left, three on the right—and he didn’t have the slightest idea what any of them were.

He picked the first one on the left.  That was where the Attack  button usually was, right?

Nothing happened.

“You’re bound,” the slime girl said.  “That doesn’t work.  My turn!” she added with a musical giggle.

The sticky slime crawled higher up his legs.

“Let’s see what you’re hiding,” the girl said.

Tentacles formed out of the elastic slime sheath.  They wriggled upwards until they found the button of his pants.  They popped it and pulled down his pants until his junk flopped free.

“Nice,” the slime girl said.  She ran a blue tongue over blueberry-colored lips.  “Next attack I think I’ll play with it.  Would you like that?”

Jackson squirmed again in a fruitless attempt to get free.

Fucking great.  He was stuck in some sick puppy’s perverted hentai game and he didn’t have the faintest idea how to play it.

to be continued . . .

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Jackson in HRPG-World: 3-1 A Sticky Starting Scrap

Time to set Jackson off on another (mis)adventure.  No prizes for guessing the game.

Jackson in HRPG-World: 3-1 A Sticky Starting Scrap


Mostly asleep, Ian Jackson wasn’t sure if the feminine voice was coming from the waking world or his dreams.

“Ian Jakasan.”

“Fuck off,” Jackson said.  He tried to bury his head deeper into his pillow.

A lightning bolt came out of the blue and grounded through Jackson’s dozing form.  He jumped about a foot off the mattress.  His sheets slipped off his convulsing form.  His hair stood on end and his teeth clenched together so hard they would have bitten off the end of his tongue had it not already been turned back on itself like a slug dipped in salt.

It also woke him up.

After his body stopped twitching uncontrollably he took stock of his surroundings.  It wasn’t the bed he’d gone to sleep in.  It looked similar, but this was a different plain little bed in a different plain little bedroom.  It had a single bookcase and single wardrobe, same as the plain little bedroom he’d fallen asleep in, but they were in different positions.  Like the other bedroom, the room looked a prop department’s idea of what a plain little peasant’s bedroom should look like rather than a room someone actually lived in.  That was because it wasn’t real.  It was part of a computer game and Jackson was stuck inside it.

There was an angel floating at the foot of his bed.  She had massive tits.

She smiled beatifically at Jackson like a mother to her brainless brat.  She might have had a kind, maternal face, but the rest of her body was one hundred percent MILF, with the emphasis on the F.  Her white dress was slinky rather than saintly.  It hugged her shapely figure like a second skin and a split down the sides exposed the creamy-white flesh of her thighs.  A pendant with a large red stone drew attention to her neck and the deep creamy valley of her cleavage beneath it.

Doubtless the Bible Belt would not approve of this depiction of an angel.  Jackson supposed it could have been worse.  At least she wasn’t blindfolded and tied up with bondage chains.

Jackson was too busy ogling her babelicious figure to notice she’d opened her mouth and was speaking to him.  Not that it mattered.  He couldn’t understand a word she was saying.

This was a first.  Before, it hadn’t mattered where Jackson had been or who he’d talked to, everyone had spoken English back at him.  Was this some kind of glitch or bug?

“I don’t understand,” he said to the angel in white.

She paused and asked him what he guessed was a question from the intonation of her voice.  Jackson shrugged.  He hadn’t understood that either.

The angel nodded and then carried on with her spiel in a language that was incomprehensible to Jackson.

Not carry on, repeat, he realized.  He recognized some words.  It sounded a lot like the same speech she’d tried to give him earlier.

“I don’t understand,” Jackson interrupted, growing frustrated.

The angel paused and asked him another, or even the same, question.  Jackson didn’t understand, so he shrugged again.  This time he was sure the angel was repeating the same speech right from the beginning.

Stupid game.  It must have got stuck on the wrong language.

This time when the angel asked the question again he smiled brightly and nodded.  If he didn’t the angel would just keep repeating the same piece over and over.  Besides, he didn’t need to understand what she was saying, it was the same usual shit every JRPG started with.

I, angel of the giant mammaries, have chosen you to save the world/princess from the evil dragon/sorcerer/demon king.  You of all the stupid-haired kids with unfeasibly large swords are the most likely to complete this arduous quest despite currently being a level one weakling that would immediately expire if the wild dogs roaming around the second village so much as sneezed on you.  Now go, achieve your destiny, slaughter all the wildlife between here and the final castle while amassing enough to gold to crash the economies of every kingdom in the land.  You will, of course, be able to carry this gold—all of it—around in your pockets.

As she spoke Jackson’s gaze dropped to the level of her cleavage and stayed there.  He wouldn’t have minded putting his hands on those and giving them a good squeeze.  Did wanting to squeeze the tits of an angel automatically doom him to hell?

Nah.  She wasn’t real.  She was just pixels, same as everything else around here.

Finally, her speech given, the angel faded away and Jackson was able to get back to sleep.  He wasn’t out for long before a commotion outside woke him up.

Good morning, this is the alarm call for your tutorial quest.

He wondered what would happen if he stuffed a pillow over his ears and ignored it.  No, he couldn’t risk it.  It might trigger some kind of non-standard game over that left him trapped here for eternity.

Swearing, Jackson got out of bed and got dressed.  He found an impressive-looking sword that must be shit because it was his starting weapon and all starting weapons were shit.

At least there were no NPC parents waiting in the kitchen to bore him with their single line of encouragement repeated over and over.  That meant he must be the poor little orphan destined to save the entire kingdom or some other shit like that.  It also meant this shitty little hovel was his alone.  Nothing a good bulldozer couldn’t fix.

Outside, the inhabitants of Ye Olde Little Rustic Starting Village were running around and screaming their heads off as if the sky was falling down on top of them.  They were also screaming the same gibberish language Jackson couldn’t understand.

A blessing.  At least he didn’t need to worry about talking to each and every one of them on the off chance one of them had a vital piece of information he needed to find out.  Smiling, he gave the panicking villagers a cheery wave and walked in the direction of their pointing fingers as nonchalantly as if he was heading down to the local 7-11 to pick up a case of beer.

Given he was level one and this was the starting village, it was probably something super lame like a butterfly or raccoon.

That pissed him off the most.  When They—whoever They were—moved him from game to game, couldn’t they at least let him keep his levels.  It fucking sucked having to start right from level one again and again.

Jackson reached the edge of the village where a dark, primeval forest encroached.

It was going to be a butterfly, or a dog, or maybe even a lone ferocious goblin.

Ooh, the terror.

Or it could be one of those stupid auto-lose fights against some enormous dragon or similar monster.  Jackson wasn’t relishing that prospect.  Sure, he couldn’t Game Over, but being stomped into the ground by a level bajillion dragon was fucking painful when you were actually in the game for real.

He walked between the trees.  This was where the villagers had pointed to.  No humongous dragon, which was a relief, but also no stupid butterfly or pansy level one monster either.  Was this the right place?

Battle music played in the background.

Yep, it was the right place.

A blue splodge jumped out into the centre of the path and wobbled like an oversized plate of jelly.

Of course, he should have known.  Obviously it was going to be a blue slime.  It was always a fucking blue slime.

The blue blob bobbed and quivered.  Protoplasm erupted out of the top and formed into the shape of a sexy young woman with humongous, jiggling boobies.

Jackson’s mouth fell open.

to be continued . . .

The posting schedule might be a little erratic for the next week or so while my aging laptop decides whether or not it's going to expire completely.  Sunday hopefully, a few days later if not.

Friday, December 07, 2012

Book Review: Gary McMahon - Rain Dogs

Here's one of the books that was recommended to me when I asked for good contemporary British horror.  It was a runner-up in the British Fantasy Awards in 2009.

Hmm . . . yeah.  It’s definitely a book of two halves.  The first half is dull, dreary rubbish and there were a number of times where I was tempted to throw the book aside and move onto something else.  There’s a working-class family man returning home after a stint in prison for killing a burglar and a woman in an abusive marriage who’s able to see ghosts, but it’s all mired in the rut of miserable characters living miserable lives British horror really needs to break out of.

Thankfully the story comes back from its half-time oranges with a lot more vim and vigour.  The eponymous Rain Dogs are an imaginative concept, the pervasive rain evokes a strong atmosphere and the pieces do come together in a decent—and thankfully coherent!—climax.

It’s hard to know where to rate this one.  There’s an interesting horror story here; it’s a shame getting through the first half is such a boring slog.

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Book Review: AJ Kirby - Paint This Town Red

Time for another book review.

AJ Kirby’s Paint This Town Red came to my attention after it made the shortlist of The Guardian Books not-entirely-serious Not The Booker awards.  It surprised me because the synopsis was clearly of a horror novel and horror novels are normally greeted with the same enthusiasm as finding dog shit on an expensive shoe in literary circles.  I picked it up because it sounded interesting from the reader reviews: population cut off on an island, man-eating panthers and a shark that makes Jaws look like a minnow.

Those reader reviews—total bullshit.

The book is best described as if Stephen King went to Lindisfarne, where it’s wet, miserable and everyone has shit sex lives.  It wants to be a Koontz or King epic, but everybody’s a bit British and incompetent.  The source of supernatural evil is a bit crap.  It sends a shark (whoops, can’t swim on land), a sick panther (that doesn’t eat anyone) and a giant vulture that manages at best a score draw with a light aircraft.  Overall it’s more Fawlty Towers than The Overlook.

The Guardian's Sam Jordison gave the book a complete shellacking.

It’s not quite as bad as all that.  Despite the large cast of characters and extensive back story, it never felt a drag to read and I raced through it in a couple of days.  The book does have that important ‘page turner’ quality.  I also enjoyed how Kirby slowly revealed fragments of a past tragedy involving a mysterious doomsday cult through the recollections of his diverse cast.

Sadly, after an interesting setup, the book doesn’t maintain the early promise.  It doesn’t really come together.  The characters are well-drawn but remain static.  The supernatural threats turn out to be rather ineffectual and purposeless.  Eventually the book peters out in one of those annoying some-weird-shit-happens-and-that’s-it endings that are always a letdown.

Sunday, November 25, 2012

New Story - "Trent the Traitor"

One of the canards of horror is nothing is scarier than things left to the imagination.  There’s a germ of truth there, but too often writers use it as a convenient excuse to bugger off home early.  Look, here’s my spooky house—Woooh.  Here’s my scary atmosphere—Waaah.  Here’s my terrifying monster—Actually, you can create that yourself, because . . . Nothing is Scarier than the Imagination.

Um, yeah, right.  I didn’t realise I picked this horror story up from IKEA, or that I’d have to head out into the forest and chop the wood myself.

Sometimes it’s right for the story and other times the Fade to Black to preserve a reader’s delicate sensibilities can feel like a cop out.  Lovecraft famously left the finer details of his eldritch abominations to be filled in by the reader, usually because his protagonist’s mind had already disintegrated by that point, but there was at least enough for Chaosium to fill Call of Cthulhu bestiaries with some weird and wonderful critters.

If you’ve got an imagination you might as well use it.  Sometimes that’s what the reader is expecting and wants.  Especially in erotica, where drawing the curtain across before getting to the juicy squelchy parts is firmly disapproved of.

Hence this outpouring from the noxious regions of my mind:

“And not only with each other: Trent saw humans caught up in the bacchanalian frenzy.  The demons used them like toys made of flesh.  He watched as a plump demon with the glistening black skin of a leech embrace a muscular man.  The over-cushioned lips of her vagina sucked in the man’s penis, sucked, and the man’s skin was torn away like pink tissue sliding over a raw hunk of meat.  A fiend with the head of a fish rammed a cock the length and girth of a moray eel into the vagina of a petite little blonde girl doubled over in front of it.  It pushed hips forward and the belly, then whole body of the girl swelled up like a water-filled balloon, swelled up until her eyes bulged, swelled up until something ruptured and white froth tinged with pink poured from her mouth and she deflated like a punctured blow-up doll.  A skinny man struggled in the midst of a group of twisted little goblins.  They drove penises hard like pointed horns into his anus, his mouth, his ears, even his eye sockets.  They tore flesh from the man in ragged strips and wrapped the glistening red bundles of muscle around their cocks and masturbated with them.  A slack-faced woman lay wrapped in the tentacles of some kind of abomination with the upper body of a woman and lower body of a deep-sea nightmare aberration.  The demon’s sinuous arms terminated not in hands but in obscene appendages that resembled the mouths of lampreys.  She fastened them to the woman’s tits and mewled in delight as more of her tentacles slithered up between her captive’s bleeding labia.”

It was originally a two sentence description.  Then I thought, no, that’s not good enough.  They’ll want examples.

(Don’t ask where the examples came from.  I try not to think about it.)

The full story can be found here on Eka’s Portal.

Eka’s Portal is an online Vore community.  Most aspects of Vore don’t appeal to me as a fetish, but there is some crossover with some of the succubus/monster girl stories I write.  It also hits that Erotic Horror sweet spot where arousal, disgust and fear smoosh together in a big gooey ball.

It’s been a while since I posted anything there, so I thought a little hell-space story might make up for it and show I’m still writing and alive.  Enjoy!

As always, if you like the story and haven’t already picked them up, please consider giving some of my books a look.  You’ll like them.

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Book Reviews: Carlton Mellick III - Warrior Wolf Women of the Wastelands & The Menstruating Mall

My rant about the relevance of horror fiction nowadays is a perfect excuse to kick off some book reviews I’ve been meaning to post for a while without finding the time.  Yes, I’m another (sort of) horror writer writing about other horror books, but I’m also regarded as the great unwashed self-published slime by anyone who’s anyone. 

Ooh, someone’s chip on their shoulder is showing.

No community connections here.  Unless it’s one of my eXcessica/Literotica stable-mates, in which case I’ll put a ruddy big disclaimer at the top of the post.

First up some Bizarro from the mutton-chopped master of madness, Carlton Mellick III

Warrior Wolf Women of the Wasteland.

Okay, so this is where the hype comes from.  And it’s deserved.  An awesome ride that’s hugely entertaining as well as making mincemeat out of more serious books tackling similar themes.  I love the verve and confidence.  It’s like Mellick is saying, ‘Look, I can create a future world based off of McDonald’s Happy Meals, fill it with furry chicks, giant wolves and multi-armed mutants, and it will still have more to say than any number of serious, dull and downright miserable SF dystopias.’

In a post-apocalyptic future, survivors are living in a walled city surrounded by wasteland.  Authority is what you’d expect if a multinational fast food conglomerate bought the government, judiciary and police force.  There are troubles in happy-happy-we-will-fuck-you-up-if-you’re-not-smiling utopia.  Men are growing extra limbs and the women turn into wolves if they get too sexually aroused.  Just as with everything else defective in modern consumerism, when this happens the unfortunates are thrown out to fend for themselves in a wasteland where female werewolf biker gangs battle mutant armies led by a man with a giant hamburger for a head.

There’s gratuitous weird sex, furry apocalyptic bikers and all kinds of imaginative craziness, but throughout it all Mellick keeps a solid grasp on the fundamentals of plot and character.  Despite the odd building blocks, the story holds the reader’s attention without floating off in a cloud of nonsensical froth.  The only criticism I have is how eager the survivors were willing to throw in the furry bikers.  Mellick does give reasons for the survivor’s actions, but they didn’t seem that strong given how eager the wolf women were to kill them or worse.  It’s a minor blemish in an otherwise thoroughly entertaining read.

I’d love to see this made into a film, but as it would require every litigious corporate fast food behemoth to go out of business first, I suspect it might be a long time coming.  We can all do our part—don’t eat burgers, buy a vindaloo instead!

The Menstruating Mall

This is a shorter read.  Ten characters are trapped in a mall that appears to be menstruating.  Weird shit happens, some of them die, and then the mall and survivors start to change into something else.  Not as strong as Warrior Wolf Women as there isn’t much underpinning the story other than skewering some obvious stereotypes and being weird-as-fuck for the sake of being weird-as-fuck.  Fast, fun and inventive, but by the end of it I found myself sharing the same sentiments as one of the cast when they had their “Screw this, I’m outta here!” moment.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

A Succubus for Halloween picks up a review on Monster Librarian

It’s a little ironic.  Last post I was moaning about the lack of places to find reviews of horror books and then I find out one of my collections picked up a nice review on last month:

So this is the point where the sales take off . . . ?

Well, actually no.

The same thing happened when the same collection received a lovely write-up on the Horror Fiction Review.  It’s what I meant last week when I was talking about the difference between “for other fans” and “for other writers”.  Is the audience avid readers looking for the next book to read, or avid writers eager to see how their book will be received?  One is an expanding universe, the other a shrinking bubble.

That’s not a fault of sites like Horror Fiction Review and (If you know of any others, please plug them in the comments—I have a kindle, and it’s always hungry for fresh words), they’re doing a fantastic job.  It’s the reality of the world we live in.  If we can’t offer a compelling reason for people to put down their game controllers and TV remotes, then we scribblers of fiction don’t deserve to exist.  Harsh, but that’s how it is.

A review isn’t just an advertisement, it’s also valuable feedback, and especially important if—like me—you’re (sort of) self-published.  The great thing about having no snooty gatekeepers around is it means we can write whatever the hell we want to write.  The bad thing about having no gatekeepers around is there’s no one to stop us from walking out of the front door without any clothes on.  A positive review is a nice confidence boost.  It means I’m not deluded, I’m not wasting my time and I can write well enough to justify a seat at the table.

That’s not the end of it, though.  It’s an okay review rather than an “Ohmigod!  You must read this writer RIGHT NOW!” kind of review.  Being able to sit at the table without feeling like I’m dirty bum fresh from the street is nice, but being competent is not enough.  I’m not a Lovecraft, a Barker or a King.  I need to work harder on my craft and write better stories (while still keeping the same level of heat as a blazing hot porn film, because that’s my thang, and we all need a thang).

I also need to remember to send my other books out for review . . .

(and finish Succubus Summoning 201.  I know, I’m sorry)

Friday, November 09, 2012

Horror doesn’t need to be literary, but it needs to be horror.

I’ve been ruffling a few feathers again.

This Guardian article, “Horror: a genre doomed to literary hell?”, is exactly the sort of bunkum that gets written when literary types point their condescending noses at those horrible plebby “genres”.  It’s a nonsense argument.  Asking why horror isn’t more “literary” is like asking why Slayer don’t sound more like Coldplay.  They’re different beasts, with different aims.  Horror works best when it’s hitting the senses at a visceral level.  Sometimes it’s raw and not very pretty, but that’s fine so long as it evokes the right response in the reader.

That’s about as much of a rebuttal as needs to be written and it wasn’t the article but the clip-clopping of comments beneath it that dragged me out from under my bridge.  People offered up their lists of talented writers and argued this as evidence of horror fiction being in rude health.

I’m sorry, but this isn’t true.

It’s closed bubble thinking.  It’s one of the perversities of modern technology.  While the whole world is opened up to anyone with a keyboard, it’s easy to fall into little circles where shared thoughts and opinions are bounced around, amplified and magnified out of all proportion to their relevance to the rest of the world.

Step outside the bubble.  Who’s reading?  Who’s commenting?  Who’s reviewing?  Who’s recommending?

Who cares?

On my last visit to England I popped into my local branch of Waterstones.  Next to several shelves full of Twilight clones was the horror section.  The only books I saw by writers that hadn’t been fixtures on the horror shelves for at least two decades were Seth Grahame-Smith’s Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, and Adam Nevill’s Apartment 16.

This is not a sign of health.

Step outside of the usual writer’s haunts and go clip-clopping into the tangled jungle of the World Wide Web.  Look for the places regular(ish) people hang out.  Look at how much is written about films, music, TV shows, computer games, anime.  Look at how little is written about books.

Even in The Guardian’s own book section.  Take a look at this thread recommending horror books to read for Halloween.  Spot a work that was written this century.

This is not a sign of health.

It’s not a mainstream thing either.  I have a fairly esoteric taste in music, yet if I want to find the best new death metal and black metal albums released there are plenty of online resources I can use to help me discover brilliant new bands.  Ditto for games and movies.  For horror books the best I’ve been able to manage is to slum around articles like this and see what gets recommended in the comments section.

That’s not to say there aren’t online resources.  Nick Cato and his team do a wonderful job with The Horror Fiction Review, there’s plenty of interesting stuff on the VanderMeer’s Weird Fiction Review, and there are also the websites of award givers like the HWA and BFS.  The crucial difference is these horror fiction resources are (mostly) written by writers, for other writers, while the others are written by fans, for other fans.  It’s crucial because the other media reviews don’t require me to disentangle the tainted web of who knows who to determine whether the recommendation/review/award is unbiased enough to be trustworthy.

This is not a sign of health.

We have a finite amount of leisure time and there are plenty of competing activities to devour it.  If we want people to read horror fiction we have to give them a compelling reason do so, otherwise they’re going to spend that time watching TV, going to see films or blowing zombie’s heads off on their Playstation.

Talk of horror becoming more “literary” raises the hairs on the back of my hands.  Trying to appease literary critics is a trap that has swallowed many a promising horror writer.  For me, the problem with a lot of modern horror is the writers are trying to court a literary audience that will never like, appreciate or understand them.  It’s like the hapless nerd of a teen movie trying to impress the prettiest, most popular girl in class when it’s obvious she’s a bitch and the right girl for him is the one hiding behind glasses and mousey hair.

This doesn’t mean horror fiction has to be shit, but first and foremost it needs to be aware of what it’s trying to do.  It’s a rollercoaster.  It’s a way for people to confront their fears from a position of safety.  It’s a spike in the heart rate, a prickle on the back on the neck, a lurking miasma of dread, a bowl of ice in the pit of the stomach—all from the comfort of the reader’s armchair.  The very good modern horror films and computer games know and provide this.

Horror fiction doesn’t need to become more literary, it needs to find and re-engage with an audience that, neglected, has turned to other genres and media for its thrills.  It needs to burst out of the bubble clique, grab readers by the throat and shout “Read Me!  Put down that remote and Read Me!  Put down that controller and Read Me!  Then go and tell all your friends to Read Me!  Because I’m the scariest, spookiest, creepiest, eeriest, most spine-tingling muthafucka you’ll ever spend an evening with.”

Sunday, November 04, 2012

DaBigBoom in HRPG-World: 2-9 Exploding Kiwis in the Nether Regions

And finally we reach an end.  Fifi finishes Jackson off.

DaBigBoom in HRPG-World: 2-9 Exploding Kiwis in the Nether Regions

“Now where were we?” Fifi asked.  Her hand caressed the back of DaBigBoom’s neck.  She stared at him, her eyes bright.  And hard.  Like precious stones.  “Oh yes.  Who are you, really?”

DaBigBoom tried again to tell her his real name.  “I’m Da—”

Her tail came down and took in his whole length with a wet schlub.  Jackson twitched as his cock was once again sheathed in soft, pliable flesh.  The tail attached itself to his groin and began to pulse and suck obscenely.  Warm juices were exuded over his helpless member and lascivious flesh wriggled up and down his shaft.  He moaned and writhed as Fifi expertly used her tail to suck him up through higher planes of pleasure.

“The name isn’t important.  It’s just a label.”

Her moist eyes seemed to expand large enough to swallow him whole.  The tail worked up and down like a piston, making lewd squelches as it sucked and squeezed him into paroxysms of ecstasy.  His hips were already responding with sympathetic twitches.

“Tell me who you are and how you came to be here,” Fifi asked, light yet irresistible.

“I don’t know,” Jackson moaned.  He writhed in pleasure as her tail continued to pleasure him.  “I was playing a game, a computer game, and I got sucked in.  I think.  I can’t remember exactly.  All I know was one moment I was living a normal life in the real world and the next I was in the game.  Not just this game.  Other games too.”

Fifi’s tail slowed down and began to gently pulsate around his cock, teasing him with soft, insistent tugs.  She rubbed her leg against his.  A gurgling sound travelled down her tail and Jackson shivered as his cock was flooded with a slithery, licentious liquid.  The bulbous jar massaged it into the stretched skin of his erection with lewd pulses.

“I play them,” he continued.  “I thought if I completed the game I’d get back to the real world, but it doesn’t happen.  I keep getting moved on from game to game before I can get near the end.”

“Fascinating,” Fifi said.

Jackson groaned.  Her tail had sucked him to orgasm.  His muscles bunched and spasmed as he sprayed cum right up into the cloying grip of her tail.

“A gamer from the human world, the real one.  And not just an avatar, here in the flesh.  How can that be?”

She leaned over and pressed her soft lips against his in a kiss.  Jackson came again.  Or maybe it was a continuation of the last orgasm.  The succubus had him completely in the palm of her hand.  She reinforced the point by cupping his overworked balls in her hand and tickling the flesh behind with the points of her nails.

“No wonder you taste so delectable,” Fifi said with a contented sigh.

Jackson was starting to get afraid.  A steady stream of single digit numbers floated up from his body as her tail milked semen from him.  That didn’t concern him so much.  It was part of the game.  Pixels.  It was what the succubus was doing to him and how it made him feel inside that was worrying him.  He felt weird—tugged about and twisted around.

“Please,” Jackson said.  “I just want to get out and get back home.”

Pink sparks crackled around the end of her tail.  Jackson felt it grow warm around his cock, but pleasantly so.  Electricity sparkled across Jackson’s nerve endings.  His cock stayed hard and throbbing, eager to disgorge another load.  Fifi continued to squeeze and suck on him with her tail.

“Who welcomed . . .”

She paused while Jackson bucked and thrashed in the throes of another orgasm.

“Who welcomed you to the game?  The first one?” she asked.

Her tail continued to pulse with slow throbs.

“Welcome?  No one, I think,” Jackson said.  The inside of his innermost jacket was soaked with sweat.

“Curiouser and curiouser,” Fifi said.  “There are rules.  Someone should have been there to meet you and give you your quest.  A gamer must always have a quest.  Oh well.”

Numbers continued to stream up into the sky.  Jackson screwed up his eyes as the channel within her tail contracted around him.  Soft flesh squeezed up against his swollen glans in a wet kiss.  The bulb squeezed right down, preparing for one last, final suck.

A loud cheer went up from the direction of the castle.  Fifi lifted her head, glanced over and tsked.

“That fat pile of blubber always was a most unimpressive boss,” she said.

Her tail detached from him with a noisy wet squelch.  Sickly white streams of cum dribbled down his shaft for a few moments before the flow dried up.

“Pihanga’s—your—forces have won this level.  This battle is over.”

She stood up.  She was about to turn and walk away when she looked down at DaBigBoom’s jackets and mmmed.  She reached down, pulled the outermost one off him and tried it on.  It was blue with yellow trim, with broad shoulders and long like a cape.  It looked good on her, which was stating the obvious; her supernatural sexiness meant she could wear anything and make it look good.

“Wait,” he called out as she was about to leave.  “What’s this quest I’m supposed to complete?  Where—how—do I find it?”

Fifi shrugged.  “I’m sure it will become apparent.  These things usually do.”

Her hair changed colour.  Violet flowed out from her scalp and down her silky long hair, washing the black away.  Her skin lightened in colour and a spiralling black tattoo blossomed on the left side of her body like twisted ivy.  She struck a sexy pose for DaBigBoom.

“It’s been most enjoyable, but I’m needed in another game.”

The sexiness of her body was breathtaking.  DaBigBoom felt like he’d just gone thirty rounds with Lennox Lewis, but a glance from her sultry eyes, a glimpse of the creamy white bulges underneath her jacket, the hairless folds of her sex, and his body wanted to do it all over again.  She knew it and her eyes glittered with amusement.  The orifice at the end of her tail dilated.  DaBigBoom thought it was winking at him.

“It’s a hentai game,” Fifi said, her eyes lighting up with lust.  “If I beat the hero I get to do whatever I want to him.”

And this wasn’t a hentai game? DaBigBoom thought.  He looked down at the slimy mess of his crotch.  Sure seemed perverted enough.

“Maybe it’ll be you,” she giggled.

She put a hand to her lips and blew him a kiss that took the form of a sparkly red heart.  It floated through the air and burst against his skin with a sound like silvery bells.

A 1 appeared above DaBigBoom’s head.  He popped and vanished from the game board in a puff of smoke.

* * * *

DaBigBoom opened his eyes.  Three faces were looking down at him.  Pihanga and Fiore were already familiar to him.  The third wasn’t as familiar, but DaBigBoom remembered seeing her outside the hospital tent back at the castle.  She smiled and looked down at him with wide blue eyes that held a smidgeon too much crazy for DaBigBoom’s comfort.

“Good as new,” the girl with long black hair and unsettling eyes said.

“We won,” Fiore said.  “You held off the succubus long enough for us to kick Wally’s flabby ass.”

“In recognition I hereby promote you to the rank of sergeant,” Pihanga said.  “Now get out of bed and follow me.  We’ve the next level to complete.”

“Ahem,” the girl—DaBigBoom assumed doctor or nurse despite her wearing a costume that looked more suited to a shrine maiden from Medieval Japan—said.  She held out a hand.

Pihanga tossed her a coin.

The girl looked down at the single coin in her palm and frowned.  “Hey.  Resurrection and full HP restore.  This isn’t enough.”

Pihanga pointed to DaBigBoom’s yellow baseball cap.  “K’winny,” she said.

The girl looked dubiously at DaBigBoom but didn’t push it further.  DaBigBoom shrugged apologetically and followed Pihanga and Fiore out of the hospital.

Jackson in HRPG-World: 2 End

As some have already guessed, the main game being parodied is the complete lunacy of DisgaeaDisgaea (there are four main games in the series, although I've only played the first on a DS emulator) is a tactical RPG that also spawned an anime series.  It's great fun to play and has plenty of moments of wicked humour.  The other game I spliced in is an old arcade classic: The New Zealand Story.

Neither are adult games.  Disgaea does have a succubus monster type and while she has plenty of "bounce", she's harmless innuendo at best.  Harmless . . . unless you have a cesspool for an imagination like me.

If you enjoyed this series, please support my writing by picking up one of my books (which I'm sure you'll also enjoy).
I'm going to give the series a break for a couple of weeks while I continue to work on Succubus Summoning 201.  Jackson will return in "A Sticky Starting Scrap."

Sunday, October 28, 2012

DaBigBoom in HRPG-World: 2-8 Exploding Kiwis in the Nether Regions

Part 8 actually on schedule for a change.

DaBigBoom in HRPG-World: 2-8 Exploding Kiwis in the Nether Regions.

Fifi looked down at him and her big eyes widened in surprise.

“You’re still going?”

DaBigBoom could just about move his arms and legs.  He wasn’t sure that qualified as still going.

“How intriguing,” Fifi said.  Her lips turned up in a wicked smile.

DaBigBoom wasn’t so sure he liked that smile.  He pulled up his knees and started to get back to his feet.  He was unsteady, like a punch-drunk boxer in the tenth round.

Fifi held her tail in her arms like a rifle again.  DaBigBoom liked that even less.  The bulbous end swelled up as if inhaling a deep breath and then puffed out a thick cloud of sparkling pink dust and shimmering red hearts.  DaBigBoom was enveloped.  He breathed in and inhaled a powerful, sultry perfume that smelt like something an expensive escort would wear when entertaining exclusive clientele.  The scent set his heart racing and caused his brain to throb with sexual excitement.

It also made his arms and legs feel like sacks of wet cement.

“Don’t get up,” Fifi said with a smile.

Not that it was needed.  DaBigBoom was already falling back to the floor.  The cloud wrapped around him like a comfortable duvet.  Ephemeral hearts collided with his skin and popped like wet kisses.  The dust covered him and set pleasure receptors sparking all across his body.

“I surrender,” DaBigBoom said.  “I give in.  You’ve beaten me.”  Even his dick had decided it’d had enough.

“I thought I had,” Fifi said, “And yet you’re still here on the game board.  Most intriguing.”

She grabbed his ankles and pulled his body off the rocky path and onto the softer dirt or ash making up the verge.  DaBigBoom noticed he was now lying at the intersection of four board squares with Fifi lying on her elbow next to him.

“What about the game rules?” he asked.  “Shouldn’t we be staying within our own squares?”

“Rules, feh,” Fifi said dismissively.  “I’m more interested in you.”

She tip-toed up his exposed chest on long fingernails and flicked the bottom of DaBigBoom’s chin.

“You’re clearly not a k’winny, but what are you?  Even with the stat boost from these,” she tugged one of the three jackets he was still wearing, “you still have far too many HP for any character class of your level.”

“I’m DaBigBoom.”

For once he was glad that stupid word fell out of his mouth rather than his real name.  A cold calculating spark had appeared at the heart of her big bright eyes.  DaBigBoom had a disconcerting feeling the over-sexed demonic ditz with a magical tail was just a costume and now he was glimpsing the actress beneath.

“That’s the name Pihanga gave you.  She behaves as though she’s the main character, the player, but she’s just another piece in this game.  Her role is to attempt to usurp the starring role for comedic effect.  That’s all.”

Fifi’s long nails tickled lightly around his nipple.  They looked a little too pointed and sharp for DaBigBoom to be entirely comfortable with them being where they were.

“You, however, are something entirely different.”

DaBigBoom didn’t need to be told that.  He was human.  Real.  Everything apart from him was a collection of pixels—nothing more than 1s and 0s within the memory of a computer.

At least that’s what he’d thought.

Fifi’s hand, her fingers tipped with those wickedly sharp nails, tickled down to DaBigBoom’s crotch.

“I’m DaBigBoom,” he blurted out.  Again getting the word wrong.

DaBigBoom’s penis lay on a nest of pubic hair matted down with a combination of both his and the succubus’s sexual fluids.  Like all dicks after sex, it looked sorry for itself.  Fifi placed a thumb and forefinger around his flaccid manhood and began to rub up and down in an attempt to bring his sex back to life.  DaBigBoom never would have thought he’d be unable to get erect in the presence of a hot girl until he was at least ninety-five, and definitely never would have thought that inability would make him feel relieved.

“Tsk, males,” Fifi said.  “No stamina for sex at all.”

Fifi’s tail curled over his prone body.  The three triangular flanges opened out to reveal the puckered orifice at the heart of the jar-like structure.  Like a gun to his head, was DaBigBoom’s uncomfortable thought.

“That’s not going to help,” he said.  “It’s making me nervous.  And nerves are kryptonite to erections.”

The bulbous jar at the end of her tail expanded and then contracted to whoosh a cloud of pink gas into his face.  His head was completely enveloped.  The strong scent—a melange of sleazy perfume, sexual perspiration and the forbidden musk between a woman’s thighs—overwhelmed his senses.  His head fell back and his brain throbbed.  Countless memories of illicitly-watched porn films and eager fumbles with old girlfriends poured forth.  Pornographic images—slutty eyes, long silky hair, bulging boobs, lasciviously long legs and vaginas held agape—flooded his eyeballs in a slick of sexual depravity.  His ears were plugged with sighs of passion and the quiet squelches of coupling bodies.  And the smell—it was like Fifi was sitting right on top of his face, her wet cunt dripping juice onto him.

“Aphrodisiac, keyed directly to your physiology,” Fifi said.  “We succubi never accept ‘No’.”

The pleasurable throbs passed down DaBigBoom’s spine and collected in his balls.  There they grew in strength and frequency.  Blood stampeded back down to his groin.

“Much better,” Fifi said.

Her tail contracted again and puffed another cloud of sensual odours into DaBigBoom’s face.  It encompassed his head and this time he inhaled eagerly, lost in his appreciation of the exciting fragrances.

“And now with a little encouragement . . .”

DaBigBoom’s cock started to rise in Fifi’s hand.  Through a pink haze he watched as she bent over and pressed her considerable boobs together around his swelling erection.  Nestled between her warm and soft pillows, his cock quickly swelled back to a hardness that tugged at his crotch and caused his balls to ache.  Fifi dipped her head down into her cleavage and lapped up a droplet of pre-cum from the tip of his penis with her tongue.

“Much much better,” she said.

The cloud of perfume dissipated and DaBigBoom recovered enough of his senses to realise Fifi was now lying alongside him.  The soft bulges of her breasts rested against his side.  One of her legs was crossed over his.  One arm was slid underneath his neck while the fingernails of her other hand twiddled with his chest hair.  His erection stuck up like a pole.  The fleshy bulge at the end of Fifi’s tail hovered above it.  The orifice at the end opened out and a little stream of slimy lubricant drooled down onto his lap.

“Now where were we?” Fifi asked.  Her hand caressed the back of DaBigBoom’s neck.  She stared at him, her eyes bright.  And hard.  Like precious stones.  “Oh yes.  Who are you, really?”

to be concluded . . .

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

DaBigBoom in HRPG-World: 2-7 Exploding Kiwis in the Nether Regions

A little later than planned, but still going.  Fifi gets well and truly XXX-rated.

DaBigBoom in HRPG-World: 2-7 Exploding Kiwis in the Nether Regions

“I can take triple of this,” DaBigBoom said.

“Mmm, that’s good to hear,” Fifi said, “then let’s begin.”

Begin?  Weren’t they already beginning?

Her hips came back down and this time DaBigBoom felt his cock plunge into something soft, warm and sinful.  Sinful.  That was the best word for it.  Like he’d just plunged into a cushion of congealed sin.  It puffed up inside her and smothered the swollen tip of his cock.  A pleasant little tickle crawled across his engorged glans.  Fifi pressed downwards and that warm something engulfed the whole of his member, right to the root.

Fuck.  He felt like his dick was soaking in every dirty little immoral thought given physical form, every filthy little perverted desire.

“Oh yes,” Fifi sighed.

 A gentle little rippling squeeze ran along the length of DaBigBoom’s shaft from the root to the tip.  It felt like a soft little tug from a hand entirely made out of honey.  DaBigBoom lasted about as long as every perpetually horny teen presented with the real thing for the first time.  At least he didn’t feel guilty this time.

“Coming,” he said with a grunt.

He squeezed her ass between his hands and pressed his hips forward.  A column of semen rushed up his shaft and erupted into the soft sticky tissue enveloping his twitching manhood.  It absorbed his seed like a sponge, like a black hole absorbing light. The sinful organ wriggled and pulsed leisurely around DaBigBoom’s swollen penis while Fifi moaned in delight.  DaBigBoom’s cock responded with a series of slow, steady throbs as he emptied his balls into her devilish body.

“That was one,” Fifi said with a smile.

A ghostly red heart bloomed in the air between them and floated upwards into the sky on a spray of smaller spinning red hearts.  One hundred and forty appeared above her head in green numerals.

That was one? DaBigBoom thought.  His knees were trembling and his fringe was wet with perspiration.

Fifi relaxed her legs and shifted position.  She leant forward and let a flap of her wings pull their conjoined hips apart.  DaBigBoom’s cock was released from the cushion of super-soft sinful tissue.  She nearly let him slide all the way out before her pliable labia squeezed down around the mushroom head of his cock, keeping it inside her heat.

The bulbous tip of her tail pressed up between his arse cheeks.  The flanges stuck to his buttocks.  The orifice at the centre of her tail nudged against and began to suck on his anus in a sensation that was unexpected but surprisingly pleasant.

Fifi rubbed the tip of her nose against DaBigBoom’s.  “Two,” she said.

Her legs folded tightly around his waist.  She slid back down his pole and once again DaBigBoom was pushing up against that moist, perversely pliable bulge of tissue at the back of her vagina.  His cock never even had a chance to go down before its head was wrapped in a clingy membrane that drew him back into a glob of congealed depravity.  Fifi closed her eyes and pulled in her taut midriff.  She sucked.

Forbidden pleasures whispered up DaBigBoom’s shaft.  His body tensed and he groaned in pleasure as he erupted again.  Once again she thoroughly absorbed his issue.  The black hole pull of her sex extended down his urethra and into his crotch until DaBigBoom was no longer sure if he was pumping his seed into her, or she pumping it out of him.

Another spectral red heart bloomed in the air between them.  A +1 floated up into the sky together with two lots of 220, one green and one white.

That sounded like a lot, DaBigBoom thought.  It felt like a lot.  His breath came out in ragged gasps.  Sweat ran down his body and stained the inside of his jackets.  His hair was a soaking mop.  Wasn’t he supposed to be a level one k’winny or something?  How come he had so many HP?

Fifi shifted her body again.  Her internal cushion released DaBigBoom’s cock, but this time not so far.  He was still deep inside her, his still-engorged cock pressing lightly against the pliant membrane of the mysterious organ at the end of her pussy.

“Are you okay there?” she asked.  Her voice was all light and breezy as if this was just a bit of fun rather than a series of brutal bashes to DaBigBoom’s HP total.

“I’d be enjoying it a lot more if it didn’t take so much out of me,” DaBigBoom panted.

“Oh quit complaining,” Fifi said.  “You’ve still got plenty to give.”

Her tail wormed up against his ass.  The orifice kissed and sucked on his sphincter in a way that sent shivers of pleasure running up his spine.

Then DaBigBoom heard a crackle.  Like static electricity.  The flanges of her tail grew warm—hot—against his soft ass cheeks.

DaBigBoom’s eyes widened.

Fifi laughed at his expression.

“I’m not going to blast you,” she said.  “That would be gross.”

DaBigBoom was trying not to picture several thousand volts of electricity jolting up into his ass, or imagine what that would do to his colon.

“Men are such fragile little things when it comes to sex.  A couple of pops and you’re done.  Totally unacceptable.  I still have an attack left.”

Her tail orifice sucked his anus open.  The bulbous tip of her tail contracted.  A warm crackle of energy zinged up his rectal wall and enveloped his prostate gland in a warm glow.

“There, a little help for your prostate,” Fifi said.

DaBigBoom’s mouth fell open.  His cock, which had just started to soften, twitched back to aching fullness and nudged up against the sticky trap at the base of Fifi’s vagina.

“Three,” Fifi said.

Back down she came, and back into that soft bubble of concentrated degeneracy DaBigBoom plunged.  It felt like the moist organ was whispering indecent suggestions right to his cells, murmurings he could not resist.

Fifi took her hands off DaBigBoom’s sides and brought them back to her own body.  She sighed and massaged her heavy boobs as they bobbed back and forth with each thrust of her body.  He wasn’t even sure who was supporting who now.  Her body tugged and pushed him while her wings flapped harder and faster, working to keep both of them upright.

DaBigBoom had thought he had nothing left.  Fifi had other ideas.  Her tail continued to pulse pleasant little crackles of energy into DaBigBoom until his prostate—then his balls—felt like they were lit up and glowing.

“Oh yes!” Fifi cried.

Her sex clenched around him, smooshing that soft sinful something against his over-sensitised penis.  DaBigBoom groaned and let fly with the biggest ejaculation of the three.  Fifi drew the torrents of cum from his body and absorbed it all.

Then she released him.  Her tail detached from his ass, her legs uncrossed from behind his buttocks and her vagina dilated.  DaBigBoom toppled backwards and fell flat on his back.

Fifi continued to hover for a few moments before elegantly landing back on her naked feet.

“Mmm, that was most enjoyable,” she said to no one in particular.

DaBigBoom gave a loud groan.  How could something that felt so good leave him feeling so shit.  He looked up.  Two 400s, a +2 and another stupid red heart.  That must be it.  She’d knocked him out, incapacitated him, or whatever this game treated zero HP as.

Fifi looked down at him and her big eyes widened in surprise.

“You’re still going?”

DaBigBoom could just about move his arms and legs.  He wasn’t sure that qualified as still going.

“How intriguing,” Fifi said.  Her lips turned up in a wicked smile.

Oh Fifi, haven't you already done enough to the poor lad.
Next week: Nope, she hasn't.

Monday, October 15, 2012

DaBigBoom in HRPG-World: 2-6 Exploding Kiwis in the Nether Regions

Finally back down to a more manageable 1,000 words a week.  This week's is short and extremely naughty.

DaBigBoom in HRPG-World: 2-6 Exploding Kiwis in the Nether Regions

She reached in and pulled DaBigBoom right to the boundary between their squares, close enough for her to embrace him if she wished.

DaBigBoom hoped his remaining life points were considerably higher than forty-four.

Fifi put her arms around DaBigBoom’s neck.  Her large black bat wings folded around him like a cape.  His nostrils were filled with the musky perfume of her body.  She stared into his eyes.  Hers were bright and gleaming with lust.

“What’s the matter?” she asked with a disarming smile.

DaBigBoom thought of the forty-four floating up into the sky.

“I was wondering if we could, you know, skip the whole attack thing,” he said.

Fifi was close enough for her cute little button nose to brush against his.  She smiled and shook her head.

“It’s a really . . . naughty attack,” she said.  “You’ll love it.”

Her soft cheek rubbed against DaBigBoom’s.

“Especially when I triple it,” she whispered in his ear.

Her hands slipped down his back and she pulled their bodies together in a close embrace.  Her wings tugged against his back like soft latex.  He felt the soft press of her boobs against his chest.  The erect points of her nipples caught on the fabric of his T-shirt.

“You’re different,” Fifi whispered in his ear.  “There’s a reality about you the others don’t have.”

The spicy musk of her body, the heat, was overpowering.  She nibbled on his earlobe before leaving a trail of soft kisses along his cheek.  Their lips met in a passionate kiss.  DaBigBoom was too lost to notice as her hands moved further down and loosened the remnants of his trousers until they slid down and fell to his ankles in a crumpled pile.  DaBigBoom’s erection hadn’t even had a chance to subside.  Fifi rubbed her naked crotch against him and he trembled as the hard staff of his cock slid along the folds of her sex.  She was already wet.

“And you’re mature enough to truly appreciate my special . . . talents,” Fifi paused the kiss to whisper.

She stared at him with bedroom eyes.  She slipped a foot out of her thigh-length heels and rubbed it down the outside of DaBigBoom’s thigh.

Fuck, she was hot—incredible.  Jackson might fantasize about girls like this in the real world, but if one had thrown themselves into his arms like this he’d have assumed they were drunk, or tripping out.  He peered down at the perfect pink globes of her boobs, boobs that were even now rubbing against his chest.  So hot.  DaBigBoom felt hot too, boiling.  Given the cartoon quality of most of the setting, he was surprised steam wasn’t rushing out of his ears.  Who cared she was only pixels when they felt as good as this.

“See, I told you we didn’t need to mess around with all that fighting malarkey,” DaBigBoom said.

Fifi tipped her head back and laughed.  “Silly boy, I’m a succubus.  Sex is my attack.”

Now that really put DaBigBoom in a quandary.  His body was on fire.  He really really wanted to have sex with Fifi.  But if sex was her attack, how much damage would it do?  And did he have enough hit points left to withstand that damage?

Fifi kissed him again.

Fuck it.  It was a risk worth taking.

He put his arms around her and clutched the soft flesh of her ass cheeks.  Fifi giggled and did the same back to him.  He jolted with a shiver as her bulbous-ended tail curled up between his legs and left a trail of sticky kisses up the inside of his thigh.  He moved his legs further apart to give her tail easier access.  She rewarded him by tickling down his perineum and giving one of his testicles a pleasant little suck with her tail orifice.

Fifi unwrapped her wings from around DaBigBoom.  She set her body hovering again with languid flaps.  Now both of her feet were sliding up and down the outside of his legs.  Her hands gripped the sides of his body and she moaned as his hard-on slid along the moist crevice of her sex.

“Want me to put it in?” DaBigBoom asked, unable to hide his enthusiasm.

Fifi smiled at him in amusement.  “You want to suicide?”

Er, when you put it that way, not really, DaBigBoom thought.  What was he doing?  Was it really a good idea to stay in the arms of a devil woman like this?

Fifi crossed her legs behind DaBigBoom.  Her sex parted like the lips of a mouth.  Glistening strands of mucus formed threads between her plush labia.  She gobbled up the swollen head of his cock and slid slowly—really slowly—down his shaft until her moist labia were kissing his groin.

Yep.  Good idea.  Definitely a good idea.

DaBigBoom closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of his manhood sliding up a moist tunnel with soft—super soft—fleshy walls.  They pressed around him and undulated with gentle pulses.  Fifi added to the sensation by wriggling in his lap.

Now this was definitely unprotected sex.

Normally, DaBigBoom would have been terrified of attempting a sexual position like this for fear of tipping the girl over and bouncing her skull off the floor.  Girls didn’t normally have wings.  Fifi might have had both feet off the ground and her legs wrapped around him, but she was definitely the one in control here.  All DaBigBoom could do was stand braced with his feet apart while she flapped her midnight-black bat wings and moved her body against him like a wave.

Up, down, her hips moved.  Up, down; DaBigBoom sighed as his erection moved inside a moist, lubricated channel of heavenly soft flesh.  Fifi gave her own sighs as her hips met his with a lewd squelch.  Her juices bubbled out and dribbled down the insides of his thighs.  He felt the lascivious suction of her sex as each downward stroke of her wings took her hips up to the peak of the next stroke.

“I can take triple of this,” DaBigBoom said.

“Mmm, that’s good to hear,” Fifi said, “then let’s begin.”

Begin?  Weren’t they already beginning?

Next week: Fifi unleashes her extremely naughty attack.

Friday, October 12, 2012

New story for Literotica's 2012 Halloween Short Story Contest

October is normally a month where I rouse myself out of torpor and start posting new stories up on various web sites.  It's a Halloween thing!

First up is "Ways to Break a Good Man, no.2", my entrant for this year's Halloween contest on Literotica.  I'm not eligible to win as I already placed in the Nude Day contest earlier this year.  I still like to enter stories, it's Halloween after all, and not being eligible means I can let Horror-head off the leash and throw out something dark, nasty and not necessarily crowd-pleasing.  That's always a good thing, as if I don't feed him every so often he kills off all my characters or has them do odd things like gobbling people up inside their vagina.

I'm not sure on this one.  It was a bugger to write and might be one of those ideas that are impossible to make work no matter how they're tackled (advice M. Night Shyamalan should have heeded before making The Village).  After all, it's quite difficult to make one of these

sinister and scary.

I like taking a situation that looks absurd on the outside (a man wrestling a blow-up doll) and contrasting the silliness with what is actually a horrific threat to the protagonist.  It's the same car crash as smashing erotica into horror and seeing what bounces out of the wreckage.  The Biggest Tits in the World (the version in Succubus for Freedom is much better than the early draft on Lit) ran off the same principle, and like that story this one is already picking up mixed comments.  It'd be nice if the bad comments were more helpful than 'stories with sex dolls suck', but it might be one of those concepts that are virtually impossible to pull off.  I have a weakness for trying to make the absurd and silly scary.  Anyway, I hope more like it than dislike it.  I also get to cross the doll fetish off the To Corrupt In A Story list.

If you're after a more conventional succubus story, I'll add to C's recommendation of Ironiclaconic's "Thirteenth Seduction".  Classy tale of a man and his devil girl.  Wish I'd written it myself.  LiquidMatthew's "A Bestiary of Monster Girls" is also a humourous variation on the Monster Girl Encyclopedia.  The Halloween contest seems very popular this year.

I'm planning to post a few other stories this month.  Hopefully that will placate the people left a little bemused by this rather odd tale.

Tuesday, October 09, 2012

DaBigBoom in HRPG-World: 2-5 Exploding Kiwis in the Nether Regions

Late, but still going.  We're into X-rated territory now, so if you ain't 18, now's the time to skedaddle.

DaBigBoom in HRPG-World 2-5: Exploding Kiwis in the Nether Regions.

DaBigBoom hit the ground at the feet of the succubus with a krump.

He didn’t explode.

This seemed to take everyone by surprise.

DaBigBoom awkwardly picked himself back up.  The succubus floated in front of him.  Her smile and the seductive gleam in her eyes—more lustful even than Fiore’s for her underage pin-up—had returned to her face.

“Um . . . hi,” DaBigBoom said.

“Hi,” the succubus replied.  She pushed out her considerable chest.

Now what?  DaBigBoom looked over to Pihanga.  She was motioning Fiore to move towards a guard on the right-hand side of the bridge.  She turned to DaBigBoom and pointed in the direction of the succubus.

DaBigBoom held up his child-sized bow.  The stupid thing had snapped in half when he’d landed on it.

Pihanga didn’t care.  She furiously jabbed her finger in the direction of the succubus.  Her orders given she turned her attentions back to the guards still standing after she’d thrown KwinnyBomb at them.

DaBigBoom turned back to the succubus and gave an embarrassed shrug.  She smiled and giggled.  Her ample bosom jiggled with her laughter.  She didn’t seem that bad, DaBigBoom thought.

“We could always just watch the others get on with it,” he suggested.  “We don’t have to get involved.”

“I’m Fifi,” the succubus said.  “Who might you be?”

“DaBigBoom,” DaBigBoom said, cursing the syllables as they slipped out of his mouth.  “It’s not my real name,” he hastily added.

“Those jackets look uncomfortably hot,” Fifi said.

She stepped up to the edge of her square.  DaBigBoom jolted backwards as he felt something pliant and flexible reach up between his legs.  Her tail.  Unlike Pihanga’s, the end of Fifi’s tail swelled out into a bulbous structure that resembled a jar.  The end opened out into three flexible and triangular flanges.

“You’d be much more comfortable with less . . . covering,” Fifi said.  The nuance didn’t escape DaBigBoom.

“It is a little hot,” he said.  “What about you?”

“I’m extremely hot,” the succubus said.

DaBigBoom wasn’t about to argue with that.

Pink sparks crackled around the flanges of her tail.  It started to glow like it was covered in St. Elmo’s fire.

Oh, she meant that kind of hot.  DaBigBoom wasn’t sure he liked that kind of hot.

Fifi held her tail like a rifle with the bulbous tip pointing at DaBigBoom.  A fleshy orifice yawned open at the end.  The tail vibrated, the bulbous end swelled and it spat a glob of sparkling pink energy at DaBigBoom.

He was flung backwards by the impact.

Or would have been.  Any backward motion would have sent him out of the square he was currently in and that didn’t appear to be allowed by the physics of the game world.  Instead, he did a kind of cartoon back flip on the spot.

Once again DaBigBoom was lying on his back and watching numbers float up into the darkness.  At least this time it was a small number—a solitary four.  Was that all?  He felt considerably more beat up than someone who’d only lost four hit points.  He picked himself back up.

“Mmm,” Fifi said.  She looked down his body and smiled appreciatively.

He looked down and saw why.  His clothes were fried, at least the ones around his crotch.  The front of his trousers and the underpants beneath were gone, as was most of the bottom of his plain T-shirt.  His exposed skin was marred with little smudges of black ash.  None of his three jackets had lost so much as a stitch.

“Um . . .” DaBigBoom said, realising he was showing his todger off to a girl, an extremely hot girl.  He knew she was a devil and made out of pixels besides, but that didn’t stop his face flaring bright red in embarrassment.

“Tut tut,” Fifi said.  “You should be more careful about exposing your weak point like that.”

Weak point?

Fifi did a graceful pirouette on the spot and boom-boomed a hip at him, revealing a luscious peach of an arse.  DaBigBoom was so busy looking at it he didn’t notice her tail whip around and plunge into his crotch like a striking snake.

He doubled up.  Not because she’d hit him with any force, but in the automatic male response to objects being flung at his unprotected goolies.

His evasion attempt failed.  The slimy flanges of her tail left sticky trails across his skin.  It was rooting around in his crotch for something.

“Where are you?” Fifi said.

The snuffling orifice at the end of her fleshy tail found the end of his cock.

Oh no.

“Ah, there you are,” Fifi said.

The bulbous tip of her tail expanded.  The end of DaBigBoom’s penis was sucked into the moist orifice.

No, no, no! he thought with horror.

He tried to pull away, but her tail had already vacuum-sealed itself to his groin.  Its fleshy flanges were stuck fast to his skin and his todger—his lovely todger!—was all the way inside the bulbous jar at the end of it.

Fifi giggled at his futile attempts to escape her tail.  “I have you now.”

The bulbous end swelled up and down like bellows.  DaBigBoom doubled up again, but this time it was from unexpected pleasure.

Huh, that felt . . . pretty good.

The inside of her tail was slimy, but it was the good kind of slimy—moist, warm, tight, soft.  Back in the real world Jackson wasn’t exactly the most sociable, but he wasn’t a complete stranger to sex, although he’d never experienced it without a condom.  Was this what unprotected sex felt like?  Her soft fleshy walls and warm juices squished around his member.

The bulbous jar slowly pulsed.  Blood raced to DaBigBoom’s groin and his hard-on expanded within her tail until it was pushing back at the fleshy tissue wrapped all around him.

Fifi gave her sexy arse a little wiggle.  DaBigBoom heard a strange gurgling sound.  He didn’t have to ponder it for long before the bulbous end of her tail swelled up and filled with a warm, silky liquid.  The jar contracted and DaBigBoom gasped as he felt warm fluids rush back and forth around his shaft.  Her soft flesh pressed up all around his cock and gave it a teasing little tug.

What the hell kind of attack was this?  DaBigBoom looked at the sultry form of the succubus.  He could understand horny and frustrated game artists sneaking in a bit of fetish-bait for the lulz, but this was way beyond that.  It felt like she was blowing him with her tail and that kind of shit only happened in the cheap and nasty hentai games.

Fifi’s full lips parted in a sexy pout.  Her heavy breasts had fallen out of her skimpy bra.  Her left hand was already at her nipple and pawing her soft pink flesh.  Her other hand was down between her legs and rubbing her pussy through the thin black material of her panties.

Okay, they were definitely no longer in a children’s game, or in any game that could be stocked in a normal high-street store.


What was it with this crazy fucked-up world?

Not that DaBigBoom was complaining.  The inside of her tail felt fucking incredible around his cock.

Fifi’s cheeks reddened.  She closed her eyes and gave a series of little sexy gasps.  The bulbous organ at the end of her tail began to pulsate faster and faster.

Oh fuck.

DaBigBoom closed his eyes and gave a little moan of his own.  Her tail pulsed and sucked on his cock.  He didn’t know what she was doing in there, but he definitely didn’t want her to stop.  Her slick walls rubbed up and down his shaft, sliding on a sensual layer of warm, silky liquid.  Soft flesh contracted and gently pumped his swollen glans.  Like a kiss.

Fifi’s gasps grew louder and came more frequently.  The pulsations of her tail speeded up to match.  DaBigBoom was no longer doubled up but instead bent back the other way, teetering on unsteady legs with his crotch thrust out before him while Fifi’s tail-full-of-every-known-hooker’s-trick continued to work over his helpless manhood.

“Yes, yes, yes!” she squealed in delight.

Oh fuck.  DaBigBoom couldn’t hold on any longer.  His hips jerked forwards, driving him deeper into the moist, sticky flesh of her pulsing tail pot.  His erection swelled and he ejaculated a tension-flattening glob of spunk right into her tail.

Fifi gave a long, contented sigh.  Her tail continued to move around DaBigBoom’s cock, the motions slower and more deliberate now.  She sucked on his spurting penis, gulped down his ejaculate and kept sucking until DaBigBoom’s pipes were well and truly drained.  Then her tail detached with a wet shlup.

DaBigBoom rocked on his feet.  His knees, his whole body felt like a wobbly plate of jelly.  A ghostly red heart blossomed in the air between them, before floating up into the darkness.

Aw, how sweet, DaBigBoom thought.

Then he noticed the number, forty-four, floating up from him.

Fuck, it had been an attack after all.  It had bashed forty-four off his unknown number of hit points.

It was worse than that.

The same number, but in green rather than white, was floating above Fifi’s head.

Fuck, the cheeky minx had sucked forty-four points right out of him and added it to her own hit points.

More importantly, DaBigBoom wondered how the fuck he was supposed to defeat her if every attack restored that much of her health.  His crappy little broken bow certainly wasn’t going to cut it.

“Delicious,” Fifi said, running a tongue around her sensual red lips.  She opened her eyes.  “Oh, you’re still alive.  How wonderful.”

DaBigBoom suspected her happiness at his still being alive was because it meant she could attack him again rather than any concern for his wellbeing.

“Hmm, I wonder.”

Fifi pulled down and stepped out of her panties.  The game had definitely swerved off into X-rated territory.  The hairless folds of her pussy were clearly visible to DaBigBoom, and anyone else that happened to be looking.

“Did they tell you how these coloured squares work?”

Fifi motioned to the ground around them.  Most of the ground was grey apart from some squares that glowed with red, blue, green or yellow light.

“Nope.  It never came up,” DaBigBoom said.

“How silly.”  Fifi tsked.  “How can anyone plan strategy without accounting for the Terra effect squares.  Oh well.  You see, the different colours grant different abilities.  Some are negative—they lower attack or inflict damage.  Others have positive effects.”

Stepping elegantly on her stiletto high heels, Fifi walked around him until she was standing on the red square adjacent to his.

“Now this square grants me two additional attacks,” Fifi said.  Her eyes gleamed with lust.

Uh oh, DaBigBoom thought.

“Mmm, and I have just the attack I’d like to triple up on,” Fifi said.

She reached in and pulled DaBigBoom right to the boundary between their squares, close enough for her to embrace him if she wished.

DaBigBoom hoped his remaining life points were considerably higher than forty-four.

to be continued next week . . .