Wednesday, February 26, 2014

New Monster Girl for Monster Girl Quest Follow-up

Looks like the follow-up to Monster Girl Quest is going to continue the same levels of WTFery when it comes to the Bad End scenes.

(from torotoro resistance's blog)

WTF indeed.

(Although not completely unprecedented as one of the zombie bosses in The Paradise Fortress of RePure Aria unbirthed your head as her sex attack)

Looks like I need to push my imagination further if I want to keep up with Japan in creating weird and unusual sex scenes.

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Fan-made Monster Girls for Violated Hero 5

Dieselmine don't waste any time.  The fan submissions for Violated Hero 5 are already up for voting here.

So what do we have:

1. Bunny girl
2. Pirate mermaid
3. Frog girl (looked like their submitter also put in some artwork showing some creative tongue work)
4. Dullahan
5. Not sure - some kind of harlequin?
6. Gothic lolita succubus/vampire
7. Lamia
8. Some kind of witch/necromancer (She looks like one of the wandering mooks from VH4)
9. Not sure what 9 is either - girl with fluffy cape?
10. Mirror demon

A surprisingly restrained selection for VH.  Not all of these will make it into the game and I'm sure Dieselmine will come up with some of their own bizarre designs like the sandworm girl and two-headed cyclops.  Last time the winners of the fan vote were Busty of the mammoth mammaries and a sentient vacuum cleaner.

I went for the mirror demon.  She also has the biggest boobies, which will probably make her a shoe-in.

ETA: Hmm, if the mirror demon doesn't get picked, I might write a story about a similar monster girl to make up for it.

Sunday, February 23, 2014

So Whatever Happened to Succubus Summoning?

“When are you getting back to the Succubus Summoning series?”

I get asked this question a lot.  Rather than continue to reply to individual comments and emails I’ll answer it here.

First, some history.  A while back, when I was only writing the short horror-porn one-shots, I wrote a little HarryPotter-esque parody where two students at a college for warlocks summoned succubi for some “adult entertainment” and it went horribly wrong.  In a rare twist for me, that story ended with one of the protagonists still alive and facing an uncertain fate at the pussies of two sexy succubi.  Rather than leave it to the imagination of the reader, I returned to that story and wrote some follow-up chapters, which then became a series, and then a book.

I started a sequel (Succubus Summoning 201) and posted a few chapters online before putting it on hiatus while I untangled some of the plot developments in my head.  Back then I planned to write the whole thing as a novel, which would have the advantage of allowing me to go back and fix any obvious screw-ups if I changed my mind on the story.  Unfortunately this resulted in Succubus Summoning constantly sitting on the backburner because my novel-writing discipline is abject to say the least.

Last year I figured out where I wanted the plot to go and brought it back off hiatus with the addition of some new chapters.  I thought the monthly schedule would give me the push to keep the thing going until completion.

And then A Succubus for Remembrance got in the way.  Or rather that and the stories for the forthcoming collection (which I originally planned to put out first, but couldn’t finish in time for its release date).  Originally I was hoping to work on both simultaneously, but then time pressure started, deadlines loomed, and Succubus Summoning 201 had to go back on the backburner.  That’s the problem with naming collections after certain days of the year – they have to be out by that date.  Unfortunately I still have a full-time job eating up my day and I don’t write quickly enough to be able to work on both.

(really I should favour Succubus Summoning, as it sells more than the collections, but I’m a little stupid at these things)

Anyway, to cut a long story short:

I haven’t lost interest in the series, or enthusiasm.  I’m not going to abandon it.  As soon as I’m done with the next collection I intend going back to Succubus Summoning and working on that until the current arc (201) is finished (there will be future arcs).  After that there are some new Jackson in HRPG-World sections I want to write.

I’ll keep working on short stories (my ideas file grows at the rate of two new ideas for every story completed!), but I’m going to wait until I’ve built up a nice stockpile again before I put out another collection as writing specifically for a collection seems to slow me down more than just writing the short stories/chapters that feel like fun to write at the time.

I’m far more productive when I fully embrace ChaosWriting, but that does occasionally fuck up deadlines and the orderly production of new series chapters.

Apologies for the delays for fans of the series.  With a bit of luck Phil and his succubi’s adventures will restart Mar/Apr.

Thursday, February 20, 2014

Let's Play Violated Hero 4! part 20

Okay, so it turns out I wasn’t quite as done with the Violated Hero 4 walkthrough as I thought.  As a few people let me know in comments and on the MGU boards, all the Violated Hero games have an extra scene that unlocks after you unlock all the other scenes.  I never knew this because despite owning the three previous VH games, I only ever bothered with the scenes that interested me (That’ll teach me for skipping the futa hellhound scene in VH2).

This also explains why this scene from the promo screenshots hasn’t shown up already.

And on the title page there is indeed an Extra option at the bottom.

Selecting that and we’re back to Luka-clone dawdling around a town free of monsters, presumably basking in the glow of saving the world through his superpower of producing copious amounts of cum.

He pops by the demon castle and my auto-translation starts having difficulty.  Anua chews him out over something, I think.  Selene tries to tempt him into being her erotic slave.  Presumably she still wants that “dirty” fight, the naughty minx.  Angry Makina complains about humans encroaching into her territory and threats to mash them into paste if they continue to do so.

So far it’s the boring peacetime court issues.

Sharia comes back from somewhere.  She’s unhappy someone’s been spreading rumours that a lowly human defeated her.  (My guess is Lilith is to blame)

They continue to moan about bureaucracy.  Selene likes people volunteering to be her slave, but hates all the paperwork involved in proving they are willing to be her sex slave.

Lilith shows up.  She doesn’t like paperwork either, so doesn’t bother doing it.  When Luka-clone mentions she might be shirking responsibilities she points out it would only make her bored, and when she’s bored she starts thinking up naughty mischief.

I think Sharia likes the idea of a spot of naughty mischief.

As do the others.

Luka-clone protests he’s at his limit, but we all know that’s not going to stop anything, and so . . .

Orgy time!

So what’s going on here?  Looks like a finger in Anua’s pussy, a finger in Makina’s pussy, Lilith sitting on his face and Sharia sitting on his cock.  Can’t really complain about that.  What about poor Selene, doesn’t she get any pleasure from the Luka-clone pile on?

Lilith mentions this, but there is a way for Selene to get involved . . .

Uh oh.

Yeah, you guessed it – tentacle in the ass.  Poor Luka-clone’s going to need a colostomy bag before he hits middle age the way this lot are treating him.

They tease him over his premature ejaculation problem.  Lilith has the fix for that.

Bing.  Magic glowing eyes and no coming from Luka-clone until Big Sis Lilith says he can.

Careful.  You might burst the ambulatory bag of concentrated semen.

The girls, being apparently near-immortal demons, are a little concerned about human mortality.  Their boy-toy only has a hundred years in him at most (I think this is a highly optimistic estimate – I doubt he’d reach thirty without a massive supply of zinc tablets).

First off they get him to swear to be their masochist pet, which of course Luka-clone agrees to because then he gets to come.  And he knows it’s the truth anyway, so why deny it.

Cue more splurting into Sharia’s womb.  Even though most of it seems to end up over her and all the other girls.  Never really understood the physics behind that one, but never mind, I guess it’s artistic license.

Ooh, swearing lifetime fealty as a masochist pet comes with a damn good benefits package.  Or rather a damned good benefits package.  He’s contracted to them, which means he doesn’t get to die until they say so.  So that means an eternity of pleasure at the hands of Sharia and friends.

Sure, I can sign up for that (so long as there’s a reduction in the number of rectal intrusions – keep those tentacles to yourself, Selene dear).

And finally, the end of Violated Hero 4.

I’ll finish up with some overall thoughts.

I’ve seen a few opinions that Dieselmine “phoned it in” on this one.  It’s a hard argument to refute.  The artwork and voice acting is – as usual – superior to their competitors, which makes it all the more frustrating when Dieselmine balls up what should be the easy stuff.  The game mechanics seem simpler than VH3 even with the boss recruitment mechanic.  For most of the game the plot seems like a complete copy of VH2 with weaker characters.

On the positive side, the plot developments near the end are actually pretty good.  After setting up Lilith up as a carbon copy of MGQ’s Alice, it was refreshing to see her unmasked as playing a much more self-serving role.  And they finally figured out that the wandering mooks in a monster girl eroge should also be sexy.

On the negative side it’s unfortunate the lesser bosses are relegated to nothing more than attack buttons after recruitment.  They’re not seen again and worse, their attack buttons are strictly worse than Lilith, which means that other than for a few fights when Lilith isn’t in the party, you’re always better off using Lilith.  The game doesn’t really make best use of the recruitment mechanic (different girls being of more or less use depending on the fight would have at least added some rudimentary strategy).

To be honest, I doubt Dieselmine are that fussed.  They have their formula – Come up with 15 interesting monster girls, find some voice actors, draw some pretty Bad End sex scenes, and wrap it all in something that vaguely resembles a game if you squint at it hard enough.  This is true for most pornified things (and why they often have a bad reputation) – if you bring the sex you don’t have to worry too much about everything else.  People will buy it anyway.

Every so often you get exceptions like Monster Girl Quest, which goes way beyond what most people expect from a porn game.  There’s a reason that games has been bubbling away in the internet underground and occasionally popping up to surprise games journalists – the writing in that game is excellent, enough to put most mainstream AAA titles to shame.  They also do a lot to attempt to make the combat interesting strategically despite the limited tools available.

I’d like to see Dieselmine try a bit harder.  Maybe work a bit on coming up with a more interesting story.  Maybe make some of the boss fights actually require some strategy.  I doubt this will happen because they don’t need to.

Overally the series is still one of the prettiest monster girl hentai games out there, but it’s frustrating that the developers give the impression of not caring about other aspects such as plot and game play.

I hope you all enjoyed this little walkthrough.  And if you’re looking for extra material in a similar vein and can excuse the cheeky little plug, I may have some books that might interest you.

To come: reviews of a couple of other monster girl eroges (ROBF and Dramaraquest).

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Let's Play Violated Hero 4! part 19

And welcome to what will likely be the last part of my Violated Hero 4 walkthrough.  Usual disclaimers apply:  Thar’s going to be sex and squick, and if you don’t like such things now is a good time to bail.

So Sharia, what do we need to do to please you then?

A quick internet search around the usual haunts and Dargoth has the answer on the ulmf forums (That’s my usual goto now when I get stuck on a hentai game. Their forums are a useful resource for these games).  I had the right idea – you need to beat Sharia.  But it’s after picking up only three of the devil king generals.  Which is sort of what I did the first time, except not fighting Lilith apparently counts as not fighting her and defeating her at the same time.

Uh huh?

So to unlock Sharia’s Bad/Good End we need to fight and beat Lilith, fight and beat exactly two of the remaining three devil kings, and then fight and beat Sharia?  Uh, thanks for that, Dieselmine.  Still with me?

Right.  Off we go again.  But first . . .


More potion grinding.

And it is indeed correct.  Sharia falls over and the ending is different.  To be fair, it actually does make sense from a storytelling perspective.  Because we only have three rather than four of the devil kings, the fight is much closer and Lilith is too knackered at the end to steal the mantle of the demon overlord.

Could this be the real Good End?

Luka-clone has the opportunity to finish Sharia off, but passes on it because that’s what the heroes always do in these games (apart from VH2, where you had to kill all the sub bosses to have the power to bring down Xueli. Sorry Milfy).

Instead he orders her to order all the other monster girls to stop harassing humankind.

This is where Sharia points out he only defeated her through the help of his monster girl friends, and they’ve all buggered off to recuperate.  But it’s okay, Lilith is still here.

Lilith – Ah, but I’ve fulfilled my contract.  I helped you defeat Sharia, once.

Then she buggers off too, teleporting away in a flash of light.  Which leaves Luka-clone alone with Sharia, and I think you can take a good guess what happens next . . .

How’s the view Luka-clone?

She plays with his cock for a while and then asks him to beg her to put it her mouth.  Of course he does.

Cue much slurping.

The ambulatory bag of concentrated semen does his bit and Sharia gets a mouthful.  Luka-clone gripes about how he actually won.  Sharia said he did, and this is his reward.

She has a point, Luka-clone.

Then she tells him to squeal in agony.

Okay, I see your problem with this, Luka-clone.

And then scene two.

And a whopper of a twist – Sharia is a virgin!

I suppose this explains the repeated head tramplings, consignments to dozens and dozens of years of hellish torments.  Luka-clone gets to go where no man or god has gone before.  And I guess Sharia gets to receive cock no other pussy has ever received.  Aww, it’s so romantic – a boy and his hawt malevolent deity.

Odds on Luka-clone’s brain blasting out of his ears . . .?

Predictably, it’s the other part of Luka-clone that starts blasting the moment he enters her.  This annoys Sharia, so she brands a cute little magical heart tattoo on his belly.  No more coming until Sharia says he can come.  Eventually Luka-clone begs her enough and she releases him.  This gives the cum-obsessed artist an excuse to paint cum splatters all over the place.

Wow, two scenes in a row and nothing inserted into Luka-clone’s ass.  It must be the Good End.

And it’s not over.  Sharia is one of the big bosses, so she gets a third scene.

First there’s the few months after scene, and – surprise – it actually is a happy ending.  The monster girls are no longer attacking humans.  This doesn’t bother Selene and Anua as they have no shortage of volunteers throwing themselves at them anyway (what, at Little Miss Donkey Ears?).  People are strange.

Says the man who writes sex demon porn snuff.


Makina is upset, but follows Sharia’s orders to crush disobeying monster girls like the good little robot guard dog she is.

Lilith is also upset, because the world is now boring.

If only there was someone we could blame for putting this all in motion, eh Lilith.

Then it cuts away to where Sharia is helping Luka-clone fight monsters that encroach on humanity.  Mostly Sharia’s just blowing them apart with her high level magic, but it’s the thought that counts.

This is an actual . . . proper . . . hero ending.  I’m confused.  Are you feeling okay, Violated Hero?

Ah so Sharia’s still not above a little femdominance.  She gets horny, uses her magic to immobilise Luka-clone, and then carts him off to the nearest inn for a bit of frenzied nookie.  The perils of having a super-powered malevolent deity for a girlfriend I guess.

And Sharia is surprisingly girlfriend-y.  She seems very keen on us.  To tell the truth, I didn’t expect the “true” Good End (which it seems to be) to take this path.  It’s even a nice lovey-dovey scene.  There’s not even a tentacle in the—


Never mind Luka-clone.  At least you got to save the humans and gain a super-powered malevolent deity for a girlfriend in the process.  Sure, she treats you as her masochist pleasure slave, but I suspected that’s what you wanted anyway.

So that’s that.  Violated Hero 4, The End.

I suppose I should sum up with my overall thoughts on the game, but I’ll leave that to a follow-up post.

ETA: As a few people have pointed out to me.  I completely missed you get an extra scene for unlocking all the CGs (I did warn you I hadn't actually 100% completed one of these games before).  I will get a part 20 up along with my overall thoughts on the game.

Thursday, February 13, 2014

Let's Play Violated Hero 4! part 18

After a brief hiatus because of unforeseen circumstances it’s time to get back to the walkthrough of Violated Hero 4.  Last time around we got an End, but was it the Good End?  There’s still some material to unlock – we have Lilith’s fight in her area and all of Sharia’s Bad End scenes.

I don’t think VH4 is going to get any less sexy or squicky, so the usual disclaimer applies – adults only from this point on please.

Okay, there’s clearly some significance to the order of the devil king doors.

I go back to my saved game before I’d defeated any of the devil kings.  Before doing the obvious and going straight to Lilith’s area first, I check out one of the other doors.  Ah, there are some changes in the dialogue.  They add a couple of lines where Lilith owns up to being one of devil kings and Luka-clone freaks out.

The big change is going to Lilith’s area first.  This time she unmasks herself and there’s a fight.

She’s half following Sharia’s orders to defend her area and half testing Luka-clone to see if he’s any good.

At 600 HP Lilith is the baby of the devil kings, but this is more than offset by us not having Lilith or any of the other devil kings with us.

Beating Lilith without actually having Lilith turns out to be difficult as she dodges most of the other girls’ normal attacks and only takes about 20 damage from each special attack (Lilith’s special attacks while in the party were doing 150+ damage).  I wasn’t aiming to throw the fight, but it happens anyway.

After defeating us, Lilith is a little disappointed Luka-clone is not up to snuff (partly because it scuppers her own plans to take the throne of the demon god).  Luka-clone insists he won’t give up and will fight on.

Lilith comes up close and offers to give Luka-clone “extra time”.

If Luka-clone can resist her attentions she’ll give him a second chance.  As she’s a succubus, whether or not the ambulatory bag of concentrated semen can keep it all inside is a foregone conclusion.  So . . . Bad End!

And it’s a floaty footjob-type thing.  Lilith hovers above him and rubs her feet up and down his cock.  Predictably it doesn’t take too much of this before extravagant cum splatters are flying across the screen.

It’s okay, Luka-clone insists he can still resist.  Lilith laughs at him and . . .

I’m not sure I want to know where the tip of that tail is.

Lilith uses her magic to stop us from ejaculating until we beg for it, which Luka-clone does.  Then her eyes light up green and cum shoots out of Luka-clone in a big fountain.

I don’t think it’s going to stop.  Yep.

I fear the ambulatory bag of concentrated semen emptied out that time.

It’s okay, through the mysteries of time travel (save scummery) we can go back and avoid that footy fate.  After beating . . .

Hmm.  Fighting Lilith without Lilith is hard.

Correction: Fighting Lilith without Lilith is bloody fucking hard.

I try boosting my number of super potions, but even a max amount isn’t going to do it.  The other monster girl bosses are significant weaker than Lilith, and while she only has 600HP this might as well be 10,000 if my special attacks are only doing 20 damage a hit.

Okay.  Plan B.

Time to go into the potion bag and hit the reset stats button.  This time I make Luka-clone all lopsided.  I boost his HP to 300 and then dump everything into the 3rd stat.  I still don’t know what those stats are but as Luka-clone’s sword attack now does 40-50 a hit, the battle seems a little more possible.  Fortunately, that stat also covers the monster girl special attacks as well, and I switch to using them as Lilith keeps dodging Luka-clone’s sword swings.

And it works . . .

Luka-clone is even more scared of Lilith now that he knows she’s one of the devil kings, but she rejoins the party.  This doesn’t give us a shortcut to Sharia.  Her CGs are the only things I have left to unlock now.  Maybe fighting Lilith first unlocks them, maybe it’s a NG+ thing.  I decide to power back through the devil king bosses again to see if fighting Lilith first was correct.

Selene is not impressed by my attempting to power through her and slaps me silly with her tentacles.

Oh well, looks like I have to do this properly.  I go back to the earlier levels to grind and also reveal the wandering mooks missing from some levels.

Interesting.  After defeating Selene and Anua the arrow opens up to the last section.  So it looks like you only have to defeat 3 devil kings to open up the path to Sharia.  I head straight there and after Sharia slaps me down, I get the head stamped on, dozens of years of torment ending again.

I’m guessing I need all of the devil kings defeated to unlock Sharia’s Bad Ends.  This also makes me want to headbutt a wall at the non-intuitiveness of it.  At least in VH2 it was obvious what was going on.  Pick the wrong selections and Amu stayed locked in her room.  This time it doesn’t make much sense as unless you actually enter Lilith’s domain first, it looks like you reach Sharia with four devil kings in tow anyway.

Sure enough, defeating the fourth, Makina, brings up a new cut scene with all of them talking.

They’re a bit ashamed at serving a human after losing to him.  Apart from Selene.  She’s adamant she’s not lost until Luka-clone defeats her one-on-one in a hentai fight.  I like Selene, she seems like she wants to lock us in a room and give us a thorough education in matters of the flesh.

Then it’s off to Sharia’s castle and a different introduction.  All the devil kings make excuses for their treachery.  Makina is forced, Selene is narked because Lilith won’t let her do naughty things with little Luka-clone and I can’t parse the translation for Anua.  Maybe the reason I think she’s a blank as a character is because the auto-translator is struggling with her dialogue (Tamamo caused the same problems with MGQ, and she turned out to be one of the best characters).

Sharia’s not too bothered.  I think she regards them as having brought her a new toy to play with.

Sharia shows off her power and the others are freaked out.  Apart from Makina, who thinks it’s awesome in her toadying manner.

Then it’s the fight.  Which I lose because I have no potions left.  But that’s okay because this time we’re going to get . . .

. . . our head trodden on, consigned to dozens and dozens of years of torments in hell . . .

You’re a very hard woman to please, Sharia.

Hmm.  Maybe there are two “Good Ends” and I’m supposed to beat her.

Some potion grinding later . . .

And Sharia falls.  And then Lilith steals her power and . . .

Hmm, we’ve been here before.

Okay, I’m flummoxed.  It looks like I may have to go away and do some reseach (i.e. check various forums to find out what Sharia does want).  Come back in a couple of days for what I hope will be Sharia’s Bad (Good?) End.

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Print version of A Succubus for Remembrance out! (finally)

In all the recent chaos I completely missed the print version of A Succubus for Remembrance has gone live.  It can be found on Amazon here.  The curse of slightly different titles strikes again.  I'll see if I can get that fixed so that the kindle and print editions are linked in Amazon's system.

Again sorry for the high price.  That's the downside to Print on Demand.

I'll also repeat the same warning from the ebook version.  The last story will be outside some people's comfort zone.  If you thought "The High-School Sweetheart Removal Agency" was a little too dark, treat "Nazi vs. Succubus" as a bonus story for extreme horror fans and give it a wide berth.  The rest should be the usual sexy succubus stuff.  Apart from the skinless people having sex . . . and the giant octopus queen . . . and the weird slug thing summoned up from the bowels of hell . . . and the . . . Okay, so usual might not have been the right word.

Anyway, apologies for making print fans wait a little longer for this one.  I'll try to make sure both ebook and print version come out simultaneously for the next one (which should be here next month if I pull my finger out).

Now I've got to go and order my own author copies for the Shelf That Must Never Be Seen By Others.

Monday, February 10, 2014

New Story - "Busted Bankster"

Time to tally up votes.  I make 11 for "Busted Bankster", 3 for "A Special Tube of Lube", and 10 for "A Real Life Goo Girl".  So "Busted Bankster" it is.

Not to worry if you wanted one of the other two.  All three will be in the next collection.  I'm aiming to put that out next month if possible, so you shouldn't have to wait too long.

Time for a succubus cage fight.  This story was inspired by a scene in a computer game I liked.  Should be easy to guess which one.  I hope you all enjoy anyway.


Busted Bankster

Last night Ken Shigenori had gone to bed secure with his lot in the world.  He’d gone to the right school, worked hard, been admitted to the right university, worked hard, took a job at the right city firm, worked hard, and while he wasn’t one of those ‘Masters of the Universe’ the papers liked to bang on about, after successfully closing out the DiMaggio deal he could expect to add a cool seven figures to his bank account once bonus season rolled around.

He’d thought about phoning up an escort, or two, to celebrate, but the even more lucrative Pontac deal had kept him in the office until past midnight.

“What do you think coke was invented for,” a colleague had joked with him a while back.

The joke was on the colleague.  His desk was abruptly cleared out a couple of months later, a consequence of taking the wrong position on a multi-million pound deal.

The city could be ruthless, but her rewards for the savvy and fast-thinking were considerable.  Ken was the cream of his generation.  He had a well-paid career with stellar prospects.  He had a swish apartment in a fashionable district of London.  He could retire to his bed, pull the covers over his head and sleep soundly with the knowledge his future was a fast motorway to riches and luxury.

Life was good.

* * * *

Today . . .

They’d snatched him off the streets of the capitol, in broad daylight, as he’d been returning to his office from an expensive lunch.  Al-Qaeda?  Anarchists?  Criminal gangsters?  Ken had no idea.  His captors had shoved a black hood over his head and bundled him into a car.  That hood had remained on his head as they’d drove and drove to a place where the hustle and bustle of city activity had faded away.

Hours later and still blindfolded, Ken was standing with his hands tied behind his back.  He didn’t know where they were, but from the cool damp air and the echoes his footfalls made off a hard stone floor he guessed it to be underground somewhere.

A roar erupted around him as his captors prodded him through into a larger opening.  It sounded like a raucous crowd at an illegal dog fight.  Ken’s anxiety grew.

He heard a rattling sound in front of him, like a chain-link gate clanking open.  Someone sawed through the rope around his wrists and then roughly shoved him forwards.  Ken lost his balance and went down to one knee.  At least with his hands free he could finally tear this bloody hood off.

Ken did that and looked around in time to see a wire-mesh cage door swing shut behind him.  He heard the metallic clank as bolts were slid across.  Behind the wire-mesh door dirty faces twisted into hate-filled masks glared at him.

He turned around and saw similar snarling faces pressed up against chain-link fence all around him.  They spat and screamed obscenities at him.  Ken was in a cage and surrounded by a mob baying for his blood.  They were underground.  Naked torches burned in brackets on the walls and in a chandelier far above his head.

What the hell was happening?  Where was he?  It looked like a gladiatorial arena from a post-apocalyptic road-warrior film.  The baying mob didn’t look quite that unkempt, but their shouts and jeers were just as barbaric.  Fists rattled against the fencing as Ken spun around.

“Fucking bankster scum!” a black man with dreads shouted at him.

Was that what this was about—more of that ninety-nine percent versus the one percent bollocks?  Yeah, Ken was in the one percent.  He was smart and had fucking worked his ass off to get there.  Any of those around him could do the same if they weren’t too busy moaning and looking for someone to blame for the tawdry ruins of their lives.  Fuck, if they wanted someone to blame they could start with the moron politicians they elected.  They were the people that kept setting the rules in favour of the elite.

He’d read plenty of the ‘hang ‘em from the lampposts’ comments on the mainstream news sites.  He’d dismissed them as the rabid frothing of people too lazy to move their fat asses out from behind their keyboards and do something constructive with their lives.  Had someone finally found enough of a spine to do something?

They wouldn’t get away with it.  The city was too important to the country.  She looked after her own.  The police would baton-charge this scum back into the slime where they belonged.

The noise, already a ferocious cacophony of hurled obscenities and rattling fences, ratcheted up a notch and changed in nature.  Cheers and whoops replaced the jeers as a tremor of excitement thrummed around the cage.  A door on the far side opened.  Ken’s opponent was entering the arena.

He was expecting a tattooed thug and instead they sent in a statuesque woman dressed in a flowing, glossy black cape and skimpy fetishwear.

Who the fuck was she?

She was tall enough to be imposing.  Ken reckoned she had a couple of inches on him and he was over six foot.  If that height had been backed up with the muscular physique of a wrestler he might have been concerned.  It wasn’t.  She was all soft curves, including a ridiculously over-inflated pair of tits.  She looked more like one of those wrestling divas that never actually wrestles and were only there as eye candy to keep the dads from getting bored.

And she definitely was eye candy.  Her costume, little more than a series of shiny black straps to hold her mammoth tits in place, looked more appropriate for the streets behind Kings Cross Station in the early hours of the morning.  Her glossy black leggings even had a zipper over the crotch.

She posed seductively and blew kisses to the enraptured crowd.  She courted their adoration like a gothic vampire queen with her pale skin, flowing raven hair and black cape.

“Eh-ry-zu!  Eh-ry-zu!  Eh-ry-zu!” the crowd chanted.

“Suck the leech dry!” someone yelled.

She must be the warm-up girl, someone to whip the crowd up like the Vegas showgirls that paraded a number around the ring before the start of each round of a boxing match.


“Fuck him up, Eryzu!”

“Batter the bankster scum!”

They couldn’t be serious.  Just look at her figure.  Breast-obsessed perma-adolescent game developers could add voluptuous bodies like this into their fighting games to appeal to their equally breast-obsessed perma-adoloscent audience, but real fighters had actual physics to worry about.  Look at those breasts for starters.  They were ludicrous.  There must be about a football’s worth of silicone in each one.  It was not a body practical for fighting in.

Ken could think of plenty of other things that body was practical for.  And plenty of those things he’d pay good money to do with her.

But no, she turned, gave him a haughty stare and settled into what he assumed was some kind of fancy martial arts stance.

Ken shook his head.  If those morons thought they were going to derive some entertainment from watching  an over-inflated dominatrix beat the shit out of a pathetic, desk-bound banker they were about to get a shock.

He held up his fists and assumed a textbook boxer’s stance.

He wasn’t some flabby, overweight desk jockey.  He’d boxed for his university and still worked out regularly at the gym.

The girl, Eryzu, smiled at him.  She looked amused.

Ken suspected she wouldn’t be smiling so much after he’d worked her face over.  Or planted a solid body blow right in the centre of one of those big, fluffy white tits.  Normally he wouldn’t have relished messing up a girl’s face, especially one as fine-looking as hers, but he’d been abducted, blindfolded and thrown into an illegal fighting ring fuck knows where.  The gloves were off.

Still, it would be a shame to smash up a work of art like that.

“I’m not like the other nine-to-five slobs,” Ken warned.  “I boxed a lot at amateur level.  Stay in here and you’re going to get hurt.”

“I don’t think so,” the woman said, her dark eyes twinkling.

“I’m not going to go easy on you because you’re a woman,” Ken said.

“Do your best,” Eryzu said.  Her bee-stung lips turned up in smile of amused contempt.

“Eh-ry-zu!  Eh-ry-zu!  Eh-ry-zu!” the mob bayed.

She circled Ken.  Her movements were fluid . . . easy.  Despite her impractical figure, she moved gracefully.  Like a big cat.  She must know a martial art, Ken thought.  He wasn’t intimidated.  For all their flashy moves, most martial arts were about as effective as dancing when up against a trained boxer.

Let’s see how good you really are, Ken thought.  He fired out a piston jab at the white, flawless mask of her face.

Pretty good, as it happened.  Good enough to glide to the side with an amused little smirk on her lips and see his jab pass through empty air.

So she could dodge.  But for how long?

He’d fought slick operators before.  Puffed up on their own arrogance, they slid around the ring like oil.  All it took was one good clip and they fell down like a sack of spuds.

Ken kept his shape and kept firing out piston jabs.  Eryzu glided out of reach of his fist like a wraith, but was unable to get close enough to counterattack.

Ken was hoping she’d see he meant business—that he wasn’t a tubby overweight desk jockey—and call a halt to this ridiculous farce.  He didn’t relish the prospect of messing up her elegant face, or that bombshell of a body, but he would if she left him no other choice.

Eryzu kept dodging and Ken kept pressing.  She could duck and weave with the best, but she was running out of cage.  Ken was inexorably herding her to the corner.  Once trapped there, Ken intended to fully show her the folly of getting in a cage with one of the big boys.

Then she pulled off a move he would have sworn was a carefully choreographed wire stunt from a Kung Fu film if he hadn’t been right in the middle of it.  Even with the frontest of front row seats he still had trouble believing what he saw.  She vaulted his punch.  He put out a jab he felt certain would connect and the next moment she was on top of his outstretched arm and somersaulting over him like a capricious spring breeze.  So fast and graceful.  Ken felt like he was a golem made out of lead throwing punches in a tar pit by comparison.

He was still blinking in astonishment as Eryzu planted a kick in the small of his back and propelled him into the cage wall.  Faces twisted in hatred screamed at him.  One hawked a thick glob of phlegm into his face and Ken felt the cold slime slide down his cheek.

“Bloodsucking cunt!” a face with far too much hair screamed at him.

Fucking wasters, Ken thought.  No better than animals.

Rage rising to engulf him, Ken turned and charged the costumed fighter with his fists flailing.  Fuck playing nice.  He was going to pound that haughty face into hamburger.

Stupid.  Stupid.

He was a blind stupid bull and she a twirling matador.  She sidestepped his charge and swung him right back into the spit and insults of the mob pressed up against the cage wall.  She even had time to reach between his legs and give his balls a teasing squeeze.

Ken lashed behind him, but she was already gone, evaporated like mist.  He turned and saw her showboating in the centre of the cage.  His anger flared.

No.  Cool it.

He wasn’t some stupid bull to be led a merry dance around a ring until it expired from exhaustion.  He was one of the elite, the one percent.  This skank with big hooters was in no way his equal.  Ken brushed the red mist aside, put up his fists in a guard and advanced on her.  Eryzu’s full lips curled up in amusement and she goaded him on with a beckoning finger.

Fuck the Marquis de Queensbury shit, Ken thought.  If it was good enough for Holyfield, it was good enough for him.  He grabbed both her arms and attempted to plant a headbutt on her picture-perfect face.

Eryzu brought her arms together to block and they grappled in the centre of the ring.  Those soft curves that looked more suitable for the bedroom masked a wiry frame.  Ken couldn’t tug her off balance and had to expend a lot of energy to keep on his own feet.  Ridiculous cloak and slick dancing moves aside, Eryzu clearly wasn’t averse to mixing it up at close range as well.  Ken was a man and stronger though.  He started to lever her arms apart and away from her pretty face.

And tits.

As Eryzu’s arms opened up like curtains, the large bulges of her bosom came into view like moons rising above the horizon.  Ken’s gaze fell upon them, slid over the creamy curves and slipped down into the dusky cleft of her cleavage like water spiralling down a drain.  Eryzu knew the effect her body had on men.  She smirked and pushed her chest out.  Ken saw her jiggling boobs advance towards him until they filled his vision.

They were massive—enormous.  Larger even than the considerable round breasts of the grand-a-night escort he’d hired to celebrate the first time his bonus had cracked six figures.  Memories of that hedonistic night sent a throb of pleasure down to his crotch.

He could recall that night vividly.  A thousand pounds and worth every penny.  The girl had enormous tits.  Double-Ds and real.  They were soft and squeezable rather than the frozen-in-place bad boob jobs that looked okay until you got close enough to put your hands on them.  Ken had put his hands on them and played with them all night.  The hooker really knew how to use them.  She’d rubbed them all over his body and even let him blow his load between them to finish off in the morning.  Top night.

Ken’s dick stirred in his trousers at the memory.

The girl had been fantastic.  It was the closest he’d come to breaking his strict rules.  No repeat bookings.  That was his mantra.  Don’t give them a sniff of encouragement.  Don’t let them think they’re more than what they are.  Don’t get attached.  Don’t let them get a claw in you.  Don’t get romantic.  They might seem like the nicest, sexiest girl in the world, but in the end they all sucked a man’s bank account dry.

Ken blinked, lost in recollections of a sweaty night of pleasure.  Eryzu’s bust filled his vision.  If the escort’s breasts had been double-Ds, what did that make these?  They were enormous—creamy-white and fluffy.  A single black strap belted across her chest was all that held them in place.  The pale flesh quivered and strained against its restraint.  Eryzu pushed her chest out further and Ken’s head ducked lower and lower.

He was still staring into the endless chasm of her cleavage when Eryzu suddenly switched direction and went the way he was trying to tug her.  Caught off balance, Ken lost his footing.  Eryzu pulled away and Ken came toppling with her.  He fell forward and Eryzu’s bosom caught his face like a pair of air bags.

She twisted her wrists out of his slackened grip and wrapped her arms around his head.  Ken’s face was wedged right into the narrow space between her enormous boobs and trapped there.  Soft like pillows, her breasts pressed tightly around the sides of his head.

They could also smother him as effectively as a pillow pressed over his face, Ken realised numbly.

He knew this.  He could feel her warm skin pressed tightly up against his nose and mouth, blocking his air passages.  He could feel it in the pangs of lungs starved of fresh oxygen.  He knew he couldn’t breathe, that she was suffocating him.  He knew it, and yet he struggled to accept the reality—and gravity—of his predicament.

Smother him in her tits . . . don’t be ridiculous.

All he needed to do was twist his head free.

Ken thrashed and squirmed to no avail as Eryzu crossed her arms behind his head in an unbreakable bear hug that kept his face buried in the airless gap between her breasts.

Body blows.  That would work.  While she held his head there was nothing protecting her soft, vulnerable midriff.  Work her hard enough and she’d have to let his head go.

Ken worked her.  He unloaded body blow after body blow, slamming his fists into her unprotected stomach like he was working his punchbag back home.

That’s when he knew something was badly—seriously—wrong.  He was hitting flesh.  He felt his fists hit flesh.  It was soft flesh as well.  Womanly flesh.  There were no rock-hard abs to deflect his blows and make him feel like he was punching a wall.  Just soft flesh.  And he hit it again, and again, again, and again, and nothing happened.

Ken’s lungs were burning.  There was no air.  His face was filled with her overflowing breasts.

His punches grew weaker and weaker.  He felt like he was winding down.  Slowing down like a clockwork toy.  Even his thoughts felt like they were wading through thick mud.

He was suffocating.  In her cleavage.

This couldn’t be happening.  Not to him.  He was someone.  He was important.  He earned seven figures a year.  He was . . .

Ken’s hands dropped to his sides.  He blacked out.

* * * *

Ken came to with the crowd baying around him.  He was lying on the floor of the cage.  He saw the primitive chandelier hanging above him.  Over to the left he saw some kind of dim balcony.  Were those shapes people?

Eryzu was standing over him and blowing kisses to the mob.  She’d knocked him out.

With her tits.

Fuck.  Some Master of the Universe he was, fucking knocked out by a hooker with mutant tits.  He tried to move but his head felt like it had just been released from a vice.  His limbs didn’t feel like they were connected to the rest of his nervous system and he wanted to throw up.

“Drain him!” the crowd chanted.  “Drain him!  Drain him!”

“Suck the leech dry!”

Eryzu turned to look down at him, a smile on her voluptuous lips.  She opened her legs and bent her knees.  Ken saw she’d pulled his trousers down while he’d been unconscious.  His penis stood upright in an erection that mystified him until he recalled asphyxiation had that effect on most men.

Still smiling, Eryzu pulled down the zipper at her crotch.  The crowd roared in anticipation.  Ken’s brow furrowed as she exposed the pink lips of her sex to him.

The fuck?  She was going to fuck him?

Eryzu lowered her hips.  Ken felt the pressure of her sex against the swollen head of his erection.  Then the pressure eased and her heat was spilling down his shaft as he slid up inside her.

Without a condom, he realised numbly.

In other circumstances Ken would fuck a girl like this without a moment’s hesitation.  If she’d been an escort he’d have dialled her up and fucked her in a heartbeat, maybe even dropped a cool grand on those big round titties.  He’d have driven his cock up inside her tight snatch for as long as he could keep it hard and coming.

But never without a condom.

That was dirty.

He didn’t have any say in the matter.  She lowered her hips and the fleshy pole of his cock vanished up inside her.  She was tight.  Really . . .

Ken sucked in a breath as muscles clenched around her.  It felt like she’d vacuum-packed him in her vagina.

. . . tight.

Something wasn’t right.  This wasn’t sex.  It felt wrong.  Just like when he’d buried body blow after body blow into her soft midriff and she hadn’t even flinched.

“What are you?” he asked.

“Drain him!  Drain him!” the crowd bellowed.

Eryzu smiled.  It wasn’t seductive.  The eyes were wrong.  Flat, black and hungry.  A shark’s eyes.

Ken tried to push her off, but his strength had gone.  Feebly, he pawed at her breasts like an invalid.

She grabbed his wrists and forced his hands behind his back.  She wrapped her legs around him and used her calves to pin his arms in place.  It was like a weird cross of tantric yoga and judo.  Once she locked her ankles together Ken was held as securely as if she’d bound his wrists behind his back.

He knew she couldn’t be human when her pussy started to suck on him like a mouth sucking on a lollipop.

It felt like sex, but sex where all the motions were internal.  Eryzu gasped in pleasure.  She squeezed his body between her thighs.  All the friction was generated within her vagina as the walls wrapped around his member, squeezed and tugged.  Less a sex organ and more like a mouth, a warm wet mouth administering a blowjob beyond anything Ken had experienced from the best and most expensive escort agencies in the city.  Sucking.  Sucking.  Tight hoops of flesh contracting around the base of his penis and then tugging up the shaft.  Sucking and sucking while Eryzu panted in erotic abandon.

“What are you doing?” Ken asked.

Twin strands of pleasure and fear spiralled up through his body.  What she was doing down there, doing to his cock, felt intensely pleasurable.  But it also felt wrong.  Horribly, abhorrently wrong.  He tried to squirm out of her grip.  She squeezed him tighter with her legs and pressed her sex down on him.  The soft wet walls within her vagina continued to suck on his manhood, tugging him deeper inside.

“Normally I would drain you slowly and pleasantly over the course of a night,” Eryzu said.

Again that word drain.

“But the crowd are impatient tonight.”

Eryzu unhooked the strap holding her breasts in place and the large white globes, pale beneath the candlelight, fell free.  Her chest expanded and she sucked in deep breaths.  Her abdomen tensed and Ken felt ripples of force wash through his body.  Her warm sex contracted around his penis and tugged slower and deeper.  Moist flesh slid up his shaft like silk soaked in expensive oils as her vagina sucked and sucked.  Ken trembled as pleasure vibrated down his shaft and ricocheted up his spine.  He’d been blown by the best and most exclusive, and they might as well have been common street trash compared to what she was doing to him.

Ken screwed his eyes shut.  Ragged breaths hissed out between his teeth.  Oh fuck.  He couldn’t hold back.  The pleasure was welling up from his balls.  It overwhelmed the pain in his pinned arms.  It overwhelmed the feel of the hard stone floor beneath him.  It blotted out the crude yells of the crowd around them.  It came up against the fear of the creature—for creature she had to be—wrapped around it and squashed it down into a tight ball.

“Mmm yes, baby,” Eryzu crooned.  “Spurt your cum inside me.  Fill me.”

“Hah!” Ken spluttered.

The sucking tugs of her pussy were too much.  His cock throbbed and he erupted up into the moist clutch of her sex.

“Yesss!” Eryzu hissed.

Her chest rose up and down, as did her flat midriff.  It was like she was flexing muscles beneath, muscles that flexed in concert until it felt like the whole of her body was sucking on his dick.  Sucking on it like a straw.  Sucking . . . and gulping, gulping down his semen as his body tensed and trembled in the grip of an unnatural orgasm.

Gulping.  That’s what the little motions of her body looked like.  A girl gulping down a drink, but wrong . . . upside down.  Horribly wrong.

Ken groaned.  He felt violent tremors run through his cock and balls as muscles squeezed and pumped more semen into her gulping sex.

“Pour it all inside me,” Eryzu sighed.

“Stop it!” Ken said when he realised his body wouldn’t, couldn’t. 

“It’s what the crowd wants.”

The muscles of her abdomen clenched and unclenched.  The gulping maw of her sex pulled more semen out of Ken’s shuddering body . . . and something else.

“Fuck the crowd,” Ken wheezed.  “I’m worth twice as much as all of them combined.  I’ll pay you twice whatever they’re paying you.  Four times.  Just don’t . . .”  He hadn’t wanted to think it, but could deny it no more.  Pleasure wrapped his body in a comfortable sheet, but beneath it he felt like he was coming apart, hollowing out.  “. . . kill me.”

Eryzu smiled.  Her black lips pouted in an obscene mockery of a kiss.  “They’re not the ones paying me.”

She exhaled and squeezed her thighs tighter around Ken.  Her chest—those swollen great tits—rose up and down as her whole body gripped Ken and pumped the semen from him.  Her pussy squeezed and tugged and pumped the fluids from his body as the flow became a gush.  He was emptying into her.  Not just his balls, but the whole of his body.

His soul.

Eryzu hissed in triumph.  Great bat wings the colour of midnight unfurled from her back.  Her head went back in an erotic sigh and when it came back Ken saw she had horns and her eyes were endless black abysses.  He was locked into sex with a devil, and through sex she was draining his life—and soul—away.  The crowd roared.

No.  This couldn’t be happening.  Not to him.

His head fell to the side.  He was collapsing, crumbling from within.  He looked up and saw the shadowy balcony.  Silent figures clothed in sable darkness looked down on him.  Oh god, he knew who they were.  That was Jean Pierre Graff, Ken’s boss at Jefferson Varrigan.  Next to him was Gordon Douglas.  He sat on the board of PJ Korgan, another of the big London investment banks.  And behind him was the owner of Silverman Jacks.  What were they doing here?

“Why?” he croaked as stared up at Graff.

He didn’t understand.  He was a good worker.  Loyal.  Valued.  Invaluable.  He made millions for the company.

He was one of them!

“Men have always sought goats to sacrifice in times of strife,” Eryzu said.

She pressed plush lips against Ken’s and sucked.  He came apart in a fountain of ecstatic bliss.  Eryzu held him tight while his skin wrinkled and shrunk around his bones.  His body grew emaciated and shrivelled as the succubus sucked the life out of it.  She finally released him with a satisfied sigh and little more than skin and bones collapsed onto the floor.

The crowd roared.

“Fucking bloodsucker.  Got what he deserved.”

“Ha ha, the leech sucked dry.”

“She sucked that bankster scum up good and proper.”

Eryzu stood up and milked their roars of appreciation.  She blew them kisses and jiggled the full swell of her breasts.  The men on the balcony nodded their approval.  That would keep the mob happy . . . for now.  They melted back into the shadows.  Eryzu watched them go and smiled.  They thought they were her masters, but in time she knew she’d devour them all.



If you liked that and want more, please feel free to check out my books.  This and the other two stories will be in the next collection.  I'll post more details on that nearer the time (I still have a couple of stories left to finish off and don't want to repeat the mad panic I had with A Succubus for Remembrance.)

Saturday, February 08, 2014

Enough moping, it's time to get back to writing

Okay, that’s enough moping around.  Time to bash the black dog’s head in with a shovel.  Who am I kidding, I doubt I could stop writing even if I had to.  I enjoy it too much and I’m not going to allow a spot of holier-than-thou bullying poison the satisfaction I get from writing these stories.  I’m probably worrying about nothing anyway.  One of the problems with writing horror is that the mind gets very good at spinning out a scenario and stringing together the worst combination of outcomes.  I doubt the person was credible and even if they were the most it would likely amount to is some awkward conversations with my workmates.

(Note: this is my situation.  For other writers of erotica the circumstances might be very different, which is why an attitude of “They should write under their own name so we know who they are” is the mark of an ignorant asshole.)

I’ve had a week to think things over and I’m going to make a few minor changes.  I let myself drift a little too close to the world of “serious” writing.  My personal opinion is those online communities are toxic.  They’re highly politicized and if – like me – you don’t fit rigidly within a political ideology you get a clubbing from whichever side you get too close to.  I don’t think they’re healthy for budding writers either as they’re stultifying environments detrimental to creativity.

(Some might be reading this and thinking:  Hey, that doesn’t sound like the warm and friendly community I know.

Well bully for you.  Your face fit, someone taught you the secret handshake, or you found an entry point manned by the many decent people I hope don’t feel as if I’m tarring them with the same brush.

Unfortunately I saw a lot of unpleasant sneering assholes, took one too many brickbats to the face and decided I was better off staying right the fuck out of it all.)

“Serious” writing appears to have forgotten the contract between writer and reader and become obsessed on the things that are only ever proxies to this contract between writer and reader.  If you write something and even if only ten people read it and enjoy it, congratulations, you have still increased the overall happiness of the world.  Do not let anyone else try to tell you otherwise.  Only the worst kind of person tries to dictate to everyone else what their fantasies should be.

And hrarghhullll.

That’s another sticky black hateball I had to get off my chest.  I hope I’m not going to make a habit of this, otherwise I’ll have to stick a note on the blog – “It has been 7 days since Many-Eyed Hydra’s last online meltdown.”

Plus I assume you’re all here for the sexy succubus action, not a bunch of whiny ranting from someone who should be old enough and wise enough to know better.

The tl;dr version – Fuck the snobs and holier-than-thou bullies, I’m not going to stop writing the stories I enjoy writing.

To show I am most emphatically not done with this writing lark and as a thank you I’ll post one of the stories I have saved for the next collection.  There’s even going to be a choice:

Busted Bankster: A city trader is drawn into a deadly cage fight with a succubus and is smothered by her large breasts.

A Special Tube of Lube: A work-at-home software developer is given a sensual ‘4 hands’ massage by two busty students that ends up with them demonstrating a very special tube of lube.

A Real Life Goo Girl: A researcher studying an unusual slime girl brought back from H-space is trapped in the lab with her when she escapes.

Pick the one that most takes your fancy and let me know in the comments.  I’ll post the one with the most votes tomorrow.

(don’t pick the one I haven’t finished editing yet . . . don’t pick the one I haven’t finished editing yet . . .)

Thank you all for your messages of support and I'm sorry for being stupid enough to allow myself to get distracted from what's important - supplying the world with sexy succubus smut.  Next week normal service should be resumed.  I’ll wrap up the walkthrough of Violated Hero 4 and after that I have some reviews of some other monster girl hentai games I’ve played recently.

And of course I'll keep scribbling away on new stories/chapters, it's what I enjoy doing.