New(ish) story on Literotica - "Let Sleeping Beauties Lie"

I say newish because those of you with good memories will recognize this as the Sleeping Beauty Mimic story from the H-space bestiary super short stories I put out a while ago.  I fleshed the story out to add more background and let Bate have a little more fun with the monster girl before his inevitable grisly demise (and it is grisly, that editor's note at the top is there for good reason!)

Let Sleeping Beauties Lie

The H-space bestiary shorts have given me a quandary for a while.  I'd like to put them in some sort of collection up on Amazon (and maybe reveal a bit more of the mystery around Bate and why he keeps dying).  I don't think the stories in their current state are good enough.  They were only originally intended to be placeholders to show off an unusual monster girl without having to develop a plot of how the protagonist ended up in the monster girl's sexy clutches.  I've been looking at taking the better ones and filling in the story to bring them up to the standard of the other stories in my collections.

It's a... trickier process than I thought.  Still trying to figure out the most efficient way of doing it as at the moment it seems even more time-consuming than writing a brand new story from scratch!  (On a more positive note, I have been chipping away at a few new bestiary stories - this time full stories rather than quick sex scenes ' n ' grisly death.)

The other thing I'm quite relieved about is that the story was accepted and is now live on Literotica.  Originally it was rejected and this post was going to be very different - me bemoaning how my usual Bad End stories were no longer acceptable and wondering if I'd ever have anything up on Literotica again.

I wouldn't have blamed Literotica for that, to be fair.  This story does feature one of my nastier bad ends and we live in the sort of outrage-hungry times where owners of sites like Literotica have to walk a fine line in what they allow.  Sucks, but that's how it is.  It would have also made continuing the Succubus Summoning series on there tricky.  At some point Nyte would be Nyte and then I'd have a chapter I couldn't put up.

Fortunately, rather than mope around in a funk, I reread the rejection note, saw that it mentioned "snuff" and then PMed Laurel (Lit's head honcho) for clarification.

While I have seen my good (vile) self referred to as "The Snuff Guy", I don't consider what I write to be snuff.  I think I've written on this before.  Snuff in erotic literature is generally writing from the perspective of someone getting their rocks off by killing someone else.  The sexual titillation comes from the act of killing.  You can do this in regular horror to depict a particularly nasty character, but it's a little trickier in erotic horror.  With erotica the purpose is to sexually arouse and titillate the reader.  If the reader is getting turned on by putting themselves in the shoes of someone killing someone else there is a real risk of feeding unhealthy fantasy.  Now, as far as I'm concerned, fantasy, even unhealthy fantasy, is still fantasy.  If it remains fantasy it's harmless, no matter how sick other people might think it.  The nightmare scenario is if someone indulges that fantasy, develops a liking for it, finds fantasy is no longer enough, and then - to try and recapture that same thrill - takes it into the real world.  With that risk, you can understand why a site like Literotica would not want to publish that type of story.

Then you get to my stuff.  There is sex.  There is death.  And while I do like to blur one into the other, the viewpoint is always from the victim, and the sexual arousal comes from the sex stuff the succubus is doing to them rather than the death stuff.  The death stuff is also nearly always supernatural in nature, and therefore impossible to copycat into the real world.  That to me is the important distinguishing feature between "snuff" and regular (even if extremely squicky) erotic horror - is there a risk someone might copycat this and cause a tragedy in the real world?

I didn't get a reply from Laurel (I imagine she's way too busy to be fair - Literotica gets a massive number of submissions every day), but as the story is now live it must have been given a second look and deemed okay.  This is an important thing to remember, if you're having stories bounced by Literotica, remember they get a ton of submissions daily.  Sometimes it's worth giving Laurel a (polite!) PM to check if a story got bounced by the filters by mistake.

I'm happy anyway.  The horror in erotic horror is still allowed at Literotica (although I should flag my nastier stories a little better next time!).

Hope you enjoy the new(ish) story!

Some Western Erotic Horror Games - "Agony" and "Lust for Darkness"

I'm still beavering away on the next "Escape the Cushionblob" (or Pink Slime girl or Pink Jelly girl) CYOA piece.  Likely because I'm getting carried away and writing too much for each segment, but never mind...

I normally talk about the Japanese sex games, but here are a couple of Western erotic horror games that caught my eye.

Agony is probably the more famous one as it also had a console release.

It's a first person survival horror set in hell.  The aesthetic looks pretty cool.  There are also succubi, other demons with big boobs, various bits of suggestive imagery, and lotz and lotz of claret 'n' gore, if the various trailers are anything to go by.

This one I haven't played.  I was impressed by the look of the game (and tits and succubi).  Unfortunately the reception after release has not been so positive.  From what I've heard the game play and technical stuff don't live up to the promise of the aesthetic.  I'll wait until a patch and sale before giving it a go.

The one I did play was Lust for Darkness.

This has been on my radar since seeing some let's play footage of the demo at the start of the year.  It takes the classic Lovecraftian tropes of cults and eldritch abominations and throws in some kinky sex stuff on top.  You play a husband trying to rescue his wife from a creepy sex cult that kidnapped her a year ago.  The creepy sex cult is attempting to bring a dimension of pure lust into our world with a midnight ritual.  It's first principles Lovecraftian horror, in that the game creates its own eldritch abominations and alien dimensions rather than name-checking Cthulhu and chums.

It also manages the odd feat of being both over-the-top and understated.  You can't walk five paces without seeing a salacious statue, finding a kinky sex toy hidden in a drawer or have a bare-breasted cultist (or demon) jiggle her tits in your face.  But it also seems natural.  You'd expect to see these things in the mansion of the psychopathic leader of a weirdo sex cult, so their presence seems organic rather than crowbarred in for shock value or titillation.

The look of the sex dimension Lusst'ghaa is a little mixed.  They clearly aren't fucking around as you can see right after entering the dimension for the first time:

For me it felt a little too "generic videogame alien world".  The devs chose to base it on the works of Giger and Zdzisław Beksiński, which are weird, but also the sort of weird that's been seen many times over in games with weird alien universes.  It's also your typical alien plane of death.  The booby alien demons seem more interested in slicing you in half and most of the cultists learn fairly quickly that Lusst'ghaa is more interested in tearing them apart than granting them all of their carnal desires.  I would have liked to have seen a sexier (but still dangerous) world.  There is a room near the end with plenty of debauchery on full display, which is fairly imaginative, but I think the game would have benefited from blurring more sexy into the horrific.  Maybe given the main character a few more detailed death scenes rather than a splash of red and fade to black.

Of course, go too far and you run into the problems the Agony people had, so devs have to tread a fine line if they want to be able to actually release and sell their game.

Overall I thought Lust for Darkness was okay if a little short for the price.  It's good to see games experiment with more adult themes/visuals in a way that fits the story.  I hope we see more game devs taking risks on this type of content, and maybe try to push boundaries further.

H-space MGB Story: Strumpeta

PFC Stewart Peter Bate almost hoped there was nothing after death.  The prospect of standing before the pearly gates of heaven and answering "how did you get here?" with "I got sucked up by the trumpet tail of a swimwear model sex demon" was just too mortifying.

On the other hand, Bate really hoped there was something following on from this life because it looked very much like this world was done with him.

Muscular peristaltic contractions ran through the transparent tube, inching Bate deeper down it.  Only his feet and ankles were still outside.  Bate kicked them feebly.  Not that it had any chance of doing anything.  Despite looking like it was made out of soft clear rubber, the tube was powerful enough to lift Bate up off the ground and hold him there while she gulped him down.  His arms were pinned to his sides.  It was as much as he could do to keep moving his ribcage in and out to breathe in what little air remained within the tube.

Another muscular ripple jerked Bate a little deeper.  The process of her swallowing him was slow enough to give him plenty of time to contemplate on how he'd ended up in this horrible state.

Stupidity.

That's what it was.

Stupidity on top of stupidity.

He'd signed up to join the army because he wasn't doing anything better with his life.

Stupidity.

He'd signed up for this top secret assignment because it sounded exciting and made him feel important.

Stupidity.

Not putting a bullet in this demonic bitch the moment he'd clapped eyes on her.

At least that last one wasn't totally on him.  He'd tried.  His gun had jammed.  And then her big trumpet tail had sucked him right up.

He hadn't seen the tail at first.  He'd seen a semi-naked woman flash by through the corner of his vision and his first thought was that it was one of the camp personnel.

Bate didn't know what she was doing wandering around in her underwear.  Sleepwalking maybe.  What he did know was that they'd told him it was dangerous beyond the perimeter.  Definitely not a place for a young woman to be running around in nothing more than her underwear.

He'd realized his mistake when he caught up to her on the other side of a large rock formation they'd been using to mark the edges of the camp.

"Miss, what are you doing out here?"

What he'd first taken for black bra and panties were some kind of paint or natural body pigmentation.  She had a similar bar across her big wide eyes that looked like exotic makeup.

He'd also got close enough to see she wasn't naked, although it was easy to make that mistake.  She seemed to be in some kind of clear latex bodysuit that covered her from neck to toe.  It was a weird bodysuit as it also appeared to have a tail.  Bate hadn't seen it at first as it was also made out of the same colorless rubberlike material.  The end terminated in a strange bulbous structure, like the club tail of one of those prehistoric armored dinosaurs.

"My belly feels so empty.  Would you like to fill it?" she asked as sweetly as if asking for a kiss.

The tail was clearly part of her body and not some kind of freaky cosplay.  That much was evident when it reared up over her head.  The end opened out like the bell of a trumpet.  Glistening strands of saliva crossed an aperture large enough to take in Bate's head, and maybe his shoulders too.

That had been enough for Bate.  He'd aimed his rifle at the hindig, pressed the trigger and...

...nothing happened.

Bate looked down at his gun in surprise.  That was time enough for the hindig to drop the flared opening of her tail over Bate's head and suck him up.

And now he was nothing more than a bulge of food passing down her tail on the way to whatever passed for her belly.  He wondered if her female form was just a lure and her real head and neck was the tail-like structure Bate was currently being slowly squeezed down.  At least he had a perfect view of the lovely swell of her ass.

In many respects that made it worse.

The hindig grunted as the flexible walls of her tail—or throat—bunched up around Bate and pulled him deeper into her body.

Did she have to make it sound so sexual? Bate thought.  It was so wrong.

The air had run out.  He was on the verge of passing out.  Dimly he became aware of his head pressing up against some kind of soft sphincter.  It opened up and Bate was squeezed between her legs and through into a flexible bag that hung from the front of her body.

The lack of oxygen kicked in and Bate drifted in and out of consciousness.  Dimly he was aware of movement.  Not that he should care about it.  It was too late.  She'd swallowed him, gulped him down like a snake gobbling up a live frog.

Eaten by a fucking demonic swimwear model, of all the fucking ways to go.

Life was fucking ridiculous, and then you died.

Or maybe not.

Bate woke to a hissing sound and the tickling sensation of air being blown past his ears.  He opened his eyes and his vision was filled with two big round breasts.  They were black as if painted with crude oil, but otherwise had an appealing swell and softness to them.  Bate got to experience that softness firsthand as hands gripped the side of his head and rubbed his face into the curvaceous mounds of flesh.

Was this heaven? Bate idly wondered.

His head was pulled back.  He noticed then there was a strange elastic membrane between the hands and the sides of his head.  He also saw the big tits throb in a way a woman's tits should not.  The nipples—if they were nipples—opened up and warm, scented air was squirted into Bate's face.

The perfumed breeze had a similar effect to spelling salts, but with none of the unpleasant pungency.  The scent fired up Bate's brain and jerked him back to full attention.  It also made his blood race as if he'd suddenly come into heat.

"Ah, better," the owner of the big round boobs said.  "You're such fragile things.  I thought you might have expired, and that would have made for a poor meal."

The hindig.

Bate remembered now.

He was lying in a bag of soft, elastic material.  The hindig girl was sort of in there with him.  Sort of, in the sense the membranous pouch was part of her.  It formed an extra layer over her skin, and Bate was inside her in the space between her body and this additional elastic layer.  She sat on top of him and straddled his crotch.  Both ends of Bate were raised by the membranous walls of the bag.  The only reason he was still breathing was because the bag had been pumped full of oxygenated air.

Pumped into here by her tits, he thought.

Hindigs were weirder even than what he'd heard.

The walls of the membrane were transparent and Bate could see his surroundings through them.  He was in some kind of cave lit up by candles.

The hindig had brought him here, but for what purpose?

She moaned in pleasure and clutched her big titties through the elastic walls of her pouch.  She squeezed and massaged them.  No scented air emerged this time.  Instead the nipples opened up wider and thick globs of a white paste-like substance fell down on Bate's chest.  The substance was hot.  Bate felt the heat against his skin as it soaked through his uniform.

It was doing more than soak through, it was burning through the material of his uniform as if the paste was some kind of caustic gel.  This should have concerned Bate more, but he felt weirdly lethargic.  And besides, he didn't feel any burning pain where the white substance came into contact with his exposed skin.  There was some heat, but it felt pleasant more than anything.

He also felt heat rising within him.  Whether it had been his face pressed into her soft boobs, or something in the perfumed air he was inhaling, or the way she was currently rubbing her crotch against him, Bate suddenly felt really turned on and in the mood for a good hard fucking.

She dripped more white globs onto him and then, moaning with wanton sexual need, she rubbed her naked body against Bate, smearing the white paste over both of their skins.  Bate was aroused enough to rub his hands all over her naked body.  He wanted to slide them over her back and put his arms around her, but could only reach her sides before encountering some kind of seam that prevented his hands from going any further.  No matter.  He was having enough fun fondling and playing with her big round tits.

"Oh yes," she moaned.  "That's making me wet."

Then she pissed in his lap.  At least it felt like piss.  Warm liquid flooded out of her sex and puddled around Bate's buttocks at the bottom of the stretchy bag.

Disgusting.

Kinky.

Bate's erection rose up out of the wet ruin of his pants and underwear.  The hindig positioned her body over it and slowly eased herself down.  She let out a soft moan as she drew Bate's cock up into the snug clutch of her sex.  Bate moaned too.  Her vagina was tight and extremely juicy.

"Oh yes," the alien woman sighed.

She bounced up and down on Bate's cock.  Being inside this membranous bag added a lot more bounce to the experience.  The stretchy walls pressed all around Bate's naked form and added extra spring to his thrusts as he fucked the alien girl.

Oh yeah, Bate thought, feeling the wet friction of her pussy sliding around his cock.  Who'd have thought being swallowed up by her weird trumpet tail would have ended up like this.  Maybe he had died and this was some kind of heaven.

No, it couldn't be.  What they were doing together was way too dirty for any heaven.

Moaning and gasping in ecstasy, the hindig reached up and squeezed her breasts again.  Her tits disgorged more thick white paste over Bate, interspersed with more puffs of that delicious perfumed air.

Faster and faster she rode him.  Bate was bounced around inside the bag and churned around with the paste from her tits and the copious fluids leaking from her pussy.  Together with the dissolved dregs of Bate's uniform—and probably his sweat and pre-cum as well—the liquids formed a messy slurry at the bottom of the transparent pouch.

"Yes," the hindig girl said.  "I'm going to come... going to come so much."

So was Bate, if the steadily rising pressure in his balls was anything to go by.

The hindig switched position.  She moved her legs forwards and crossed them behind Bate's back, coaxing him to penetrate her even more deeply with his manhood until it felt like every millimeter had been gobbled up by her wet, hungry sex.  She leant forwards and hugged Bate's upper body through the elastic membrane.

Their two bodies were pressed too tightly together for any kind of thrusting motion, but none was required.  Her vagina was moving all on its own.  It throbbed, squeezed and tugged on Bate's cock.  The stimulation was intense.

Too intense.

"Coming," Bate murmured into her soft cleavage.

His manhood throbbed and his hips flexed against her as he shot a great flood of semen inside her.

That flood was nothing but a trickle compared to what came out of the hindig.  She gave out an exultant cry.  Her vagina convulsed around Bate's still-throbbing member and she released a torrent of her ejaculate into the bag.  This was beyond squirting.  Bate was soaking in her warm issue.  There was so much it was gradually filling up the bag.

The throbbing walls of her vagina set Bate off again.  Her pussy clamped so tight around him it felt like she was sucking his seed out of him.  Then her sex dilated and another torrent of warm fluids surged past his sensitive cock.

God, just how wet was she?  The stretchy bag was filling up.  It was ridiculous.  The water level was already climbing up past his nipples.  It smelt pretty rank as well—a potent mélange of sex and less pleasant bodily fluids.  The puffs of perfumed air from her tits barely masked it.

It felt okay though.  Like lying in a nice relaxing warm bath.  It was the perfect thing when basking in the pleasant post-orgasmic aftermath.  The elastic walls of the bag made it even better.  The shifting and swaying motions sent warm currents tickling around Bate's body.

Maybe it was a little too relaxing.  Bate felt a little strange below the neck.  Or rather, it seemed like he couldn't feel some parts of his body at all.

The hindig placed her hands on the stretchy membrane and pressed Bate's face into her tits.

"This part's not so pleasant," she whispered down to him.  "Just focus on my lovely big boobs.  It won't take long."

They were lovely soft tits, Bate thought as he rubbed his face against her silky smooth skin.  Big, round, and so, so soft.  Soft like her luscious vagina wrapped around his cock.

Hmm.  Why couldn't he feel that anymore?  Had he already lost his erection?  He had emptied a big load into her, he supposed.  It would take a while to recover.  In the meantime he'd soak in this lovely warm bath.

The hindig held Bate's head against her breasts as the rest of his body fell apart in her digestive juices.  His neck detached, leaving his head behind as the rest of his body slumped to a sludge at the bottom of her stomach bag.  The hindig continued to rub his face into her soft cleavage.  Finally she released his head and let it fall into the rest of the soup.  The flesh and soft tissues dissolved and a skull slowly sank to the bottom.

With a luxurious sigh, the hindig drew the soup of dissolved flesh into her body.  The bones and other indigestible matter she excreted out through her tail onto a charnel heap at the back of her cave.

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.

On the delights of being published... and the frustrations of not being able to tell a soul

Last week a special box arrived for me in the post.

The contents of this box are very special to me. Ever since I was a small child, one of my lifetime ambitions has been to get a book published. In this box is proof I’ve achieved that goal. It’s something I want to yell from the rooftops. Look! I did it! Look at all these lovely pages; the words written on them are mine.

But I can’t.

It’s like this. In this box is a print copy of a book I wrote, but now this box needs to be dropped down a very deep shaft and kept in darkness lest its evil contaminates the world. No, you can’t read it. The contents will flay your mind and rip your brain out of your ears in wriggling chunks.

Actually, it’s not really that bad, although I imagine it would raise a few eyebrows amongst people who know me.

On telling friends and family I’ve got a book coming out, the conversation usually goes like this:

“Can I read it?”

“Well...um...I don’t think it’s really the kind of thing you’d like to read.”

“Oh, is it really gory?”

Grabs lifeline.

“Yes yes, really gory and unpleasant.”

It’s funny that, hiding behind a screen of blood and gore rather than owning up to writing a little bit of kinky erotica. The problem is, if you write a bit of kinky erotica, people automatically seem to think, “Oh, I never knew you were into that”, as if all erotica is written with firsthand experience. Whereas, with horror, nobody seriously thinks Stephen King is a mass-murdering psychopath.

My concerns are of course exaggerated. No one in my family, if they read one of my stories and realised it was me, is going to string me up from the family oak and curse the day I was born. The real reason is me. When I first started writing these stories I knew I wanted to combine horror and erotica in such a way that the outcome would be both arousing and disturbing in equal measure. And to do that effectively I knew I needed to smash the levers of self-censorship, to rip the whole machinery out of my mind. Thus, Mr Hydra entered the world.

Pseudonyms are great. Now I can write what the hell I like and not worry about what people might think of the real me in the real world. ‘Too far’ no longer exists. I can be as kinky, filthy and weird as I like. I can describe the golden arc of a stream of piss as it loops and flows within the transparent body of an alluring water spirit, a scene both revolting and weirdly beautiful. I can describe a sexy demon with the lower half of a spider as she straddles and fucks her helpless silk-bound prey, a scene both terrifying and weirdly arousing. The freedom to be as bizarre as I like is fantastic.

Except when the book comes out and I really want to tell everyone I know, but can’t.

Oh, well. I guess it’ll have to hide away in a quiet little corner on my bookshelf.

I know. That’s all that matters.

M. E. Hydra’s “A Succubus for Christmas and other tales of Devilish Delights” will be out later this year.