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.