Showing posts with label hell-space. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hell-space. Show all posts

Sunday, May 19, 2019

New Short Story - "The Banquet of the Queen of the Goblins"

Finally finished that damn carnivorous plant girl story.  Not sure why the 2nd draft took as long as it did, but it did.

Might as well get the bad news out of the way first.  Yes, it is pay-walled behind my Patreon account.  Sorry, regular readers who don't have access to that.  As with the previous boobie girl story, it will find its way into an ebook collection at some point in the future.

You can find it here:

The monster girl was inspired by the carnivorous plant girl from Domination Quest: Kuro and the Naughty Monster Girls.

I did my usual thing when I dip into vore-ish areas to make the monster girl more interested in the sex part rather than the "git in my belly" part, so in that respect she deviates quite a lot from the initial inspiration.

It's another H-space story, although it's more in keeping with my older H-space stories rather than the Stewart Peter Bate stories I experimented with for a while.  At 8,200 words, it is much more like the older stories!

And now onto the more controversial stuff.

This is Patreon pay-walled again, are you ever going to go back to putting stuff up on Literotica for everyone to read?

Right, the problem here is that I'm still chugging along in low gear when it comes to writing.  As much as I don't like or trust the people behind Patreon, it currently is a useful source of income to keep my finances ticking over.  I'm of an old-school mindset when it comes to entertainment.  If people are giving you money, you need to give them something back to make them think it was worth giving you that money.  In this case it's timed exclusives (and some options to name protagonists, etc).

When I set it up, my initial aim was to give patrons something exclusive at least once a month and then anything I produced extra could then go up on Literotica (or here if Literotica found it a little too icky).  As I mentioned earlier, I'm currently stuck in low gear when it comes to productivity.  So far this year I've finished 2 short stories (16K words) and a demo opening section for a possible CYOA game (5K words).  This is obviously not ideal.  The only positive is that I am still chugging along to some extent.

While I am stuck in low gear, my options are limited.  I'd like to get out of low gear, so I can start terrorizing the erotic horror section of Literotica again.  (and also maybe blog a little more frequently than I have been doing of late.)

So, yep, sorry to the readers that can't get on Patreon (or are unwilling to give them money).  I will try and get something done for you at some point.  As for those that can, enjoy... uh... being erotically consumed as my lovely new carnivorous plant girl puts it.

(I'm not entirely sure she's being trustworthy, but her last prey seemed to enjoy himself...)

Monday, March 03, 2014

New Story - "A Real-Life Goo Girl"

As mentioned earlier, here's "A Real-Life Goo Girl".  Originally I was intending to synch this to come out at the same time as the version on Literotica, but they were a bit quicker at posting than usual and it came out yesterday instead.  This was useful as one of the comments made me realise the ending needed a tweak.

Here's one for the slime girl fans anyway:


A Real-Life Goo Girl

“I’m telling you, it’s a real fetish,” John Sanjust said.

John and Mario Vailati stood on a metal gantry overlooking a large, circular glass tank.

“Nah, you’re yanking my chain,” Vailati said.

“Rule 34.  If it exists, there is porn of it somewhere on the internet.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Google it,” John said.  “You’ll find tons of pictures.”

“I don’t get it.  What’s the appeal in having sex with what’s basically a giant amoeba?”

Below them, Subject HA-001 moved around the inside of the tank in a series of undulating waves.

John shrugged.  “Beats me.  It’s out there though.”

“I mean, think about it,” Vailati said.  “It would probably feel like shoving your cock into a beaker of cold snot.  How is that sexy?”

“I bet there are websites for that as well,” John said.

Subject HA-001’s upper body pressed up against the lid of the tank.  Twin bulges of what were perfect facsimiles of human breasts, right down to the perky nipples, squashed up against the glass.  She stared up at them and kissed the glass with full, bee-stung lips.

John would have thought the mimicry incredible . . . if there was any subject being copied.  Subject HA-001 had taken on the body shape of a typical male fantasy—tall and busty, ridiculously well-stacked, like a Pamela Anderson or Kim Kardashian—and no-one knew how or why.  Well, the top half of her was a male fantasy.  The bottom half swelled out into a soft, undifferentiated blob of protoplasm.  She was a human-sized amoeba with transparent light-blue skin.  John didn’t need to possess a PhD to know she—it—shouldn’t exist.

“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t mind shoving your dick up between those puppies,” he said.

“Language!” Danielle Sullivan shouted up from the monitors below.  “This is a place of serious work.  I will not have potty mouths in my laboratory.”

“Sorry, Mom,” John said.

It was a team joke.  Danielle Sullivan was middle-aged and chunky.  Blonde curls framed a round, homely face.  She was from the American Midwest and about as conservative as they came.  Until he’d met her, John hadn’t thought people like Sullivan existed outside of lazy parodies of American culture.  He’d even made an ill-advised quip about it not long after they’d been introduced.

“I didn’t think it possible for biologists to come out of your neck of the woods.  I thought they were still having problems accepting the Theory of Evolution,” he’d joked, poorly.

“We’re not all gun-toting crazy whahoos,” she’d said.  “And where’s your top hat and tails—left them back in London did you.”


Sullivan might have sounded like she was more at home baking apple pies, but she was a fastidious and highly efficient researcher, if a little unimaginative.  That was both the positive and negative of her military background.  John suspected that was why he’d been brought in.  It was easy to joke about that classic oxymoron, American Intelligence, but they knew enough to seek out someone who could think outside of the box.

Unfortunately, this little problem required being able to think a little further than outside of the box.  A lot further . . .

* * * *

The lab went into lockdown at 9:45pm on a Tuesday evening.  John was working late and the only person in the lab.  He was studying images from the electron microscope when a warning flashed up on his monitor screen informing him of a containment breach and that the lab was entering lockdown mode.

If this was a film or videogame there would have been flashing lights and wailing sirens.  That was because films and videogames were designed to generate excitement.  In a dangerous lab environment excitement was a bad thing.  Personnel needed to think clearly and fast, and flashing lights and blaring alarms were not conducive to clear and rational thought.  No doubt an alarm was going off somewhere and highly trained personnel were springing into action, but John, despite being in the lab, was superfluous now.  The breach had been detected and the doors would have been locked and sealed the moment it was detected.

John sat in eerie silence and looked at the polite warning message flashing on his computer screen.  He wondered if they’d let him compose a final email to his mother back in London.

* * * *

John had been in Miami for a conference on protists when the US military had made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.  It was his first paper since receiving his PhD and he wasn’t sure what interest the US military had in “Cytoskeletal Features that aid Oxygen Diffusion in Large Protists”.  Some amoeba, like the infamous brain-eating amoeba, Naegleria fowleri, were hazardous to human health, but John’s area of expertise was the giant amoeba, Chaos carolinensis, and they were harmless . . . unless you happened to be a diatom or similarly microscopic organism.

He’d assumed there’d been a mistake and told them so.

“You are an expert in gaseous absorption and transfer in single-celled organisms?” Vailati had asked him.  This was before John knew who Dr Mario Vailati was.  Back then he’d been another nondescript man with thinning grey hair and a lab coat.

“Well, yes”

He had been studying it for the past three and a half years.

Then you’re exactly the person we want.

“Why not Professor Robert Feldherr?  He’s the expert in this field and he lives in this state.”

“Professor Feldherr doesn’t have the requisite personality traits for this project.”

That was from the military type in the smart uniform who looked as stiff as a shop mannequin.  Translated from military-speak what he really meant was:  Professor Feldherr is old, knows his own mind, and is far less likely to follow orders without question than a fresh-faced young limey.  That was John Sanjust.  They wanted him for his expertise, but also because they knew he’d be easier to control than an irascible old professor.

* * * *

John hoped it was a false alarm.  He would have prayed as well, but he was an atheist and couldn’t see the point.

He knew there were two critical fail-safes.  The first pumped super-cooled gas into the room, dropping the temperature down to around -190 °C in a few seconds and turning the whole lab into a giant ice box.  That was if they wanted to preserve and retrieve any of the samples.

If they weren’t interested in retaining anything, or were really scared of further breaches, the second system was set up to incinerate the contents of the lab.

He’d thought it sounded excessive when they’d described the system to him.  This was before he’d seen Subject HA-001 . . .

* * * *

“What kind of experiment is this?”  John’s voice had been full of awe, and fear.

Part of Subject HA-001 clearly resembled a young woman.  Blue, transparent, but unmistakably a young woman.  Initially he’d wondered if a horrific accident had taken place, or—worse—equally horrific human experimentation.

He wasn’t on the right planet.

“That information is classified,” the young soldier escorting them said.

“She’s from another world,” Vailati said.

The younger soldier looked at Vailati and was about to say something.

“Oh shut it,” Vailati said.  “Dr Sanjust is here to carry out research on our behalf.  He can’t do that effectively if he isn’t aware of all the facts.”

Chastened, the young soldier stepped back out of the conversation.

“From another dimension, to be more specific,” Vailati continued.  “I’m sure you’ve already noticed the excessive security at this facility.  You’ll be happy to know it’s not because we’re manufacturing weapons of mass destruction.”

“That’s a relief,” Vailati said.

“Our physicists found a way to punch a hole between dimensions.  On the other side of the complex is a stable gateway to another world.  We’ve been sending people through for the past few months.  They’ve even established bases on the other side.”

John’s jaw dropped open.

“This is a little unexpected,” he said.  “I guess that means we’ve just gone past the opportunity for me to turn this job down.”

“Sorry, kiddo.  Once you’re in, you’re in.  None of the people we asked ever wanted out at this point anyway,” Vailati said with a twinkle in his eye.

“Who would,” John said.  “What scientist would turn down an opportunity like this?  Have you been through?” he asked.

Vailati shook his head.

“I was scheduled to, and then something happened.  We found life.”

* * * *

John stared at the computer monitor.  His hands trembled and his palms felt moist.

Cut it out, he thought.  They were not going to freeze him into an icicle—or nuke him into a pile of ashes—unless they were absolutely sure there had been a hazardous containment breach.  And then only as an absolute last resort.

He checked the internal messaging system.  He messaged the first name on duty.  They didn’t get back to him and neither did the next five names he tried.

Presumably that was protocol.  Don’t speak to the poor sucker you might have to incinerate.

Stop it!  It was probably a false alarm.  No one was replying because they were too busy running diagnostic checks and hunting for whatever software glitch had flipped the alarm.

John left messages asking for clarification.  Then he tapped an icon and brought up the feed from the internal lab cams.  He knew CCTV covered the whole of the interior of the lab.  One lunch break he and Vailati had laughed while watching the prim and proper Sullivan pick her nose when she thought no one was watching.  Sometimes the littlest of things pleased the biggest of minds.  John cycled through the images until he found a camera with a view of the tank.


John’s blood turned to icy slush.  It wasn’t a software glitch.  The circular tank with walls of reinforced glass was empty.

Subject HA-001 was out.

* * * *

Gaseous exchange, John had pedantically told his fellow students during a Student Union screening of The Blob.  That was the reason why The Blob, Caltiki or any other B-movie blob monster couldn’t possibly exist.  Single-celled amoebae never grew larger than a few microns for a good reason.  Any bigger and oxygen wouldn’t be able to penetrate the tissues fast enough to keep the organism alive.  This was why complex organisms had complex circulatory systems.

It was also why human beings tended to die when they were shot full of holes and all the red stuff leaked out.

“I know, it shouldn’t be alive,” Vailati said as they’d studied Subject HA-001 for the first time.  “From what I’ve heard there are quite a few shouldn’t be’s over in H-space.  The physicists postulated the laws of physics work slightly differently on the other side of the gate.  None of our electronics function properly when we take them through.

“But wouldn’t the same apply for alien life forms brought back into our world?” John said.

“That’s one theory.  Professor Michel and Doctor Pendleton were firmly opposed to bringing Subject HA-001 back.  They thought it would disintegrate into a puddle of goo the moment it entered our universe.  As you can see, they were wrong.”

John could see.  Subject HA-001 stood—if such a word could be used—up against the reinforced wall of the tank.  Her palms and large round breasts were pressed up against the glass.

* * * *

John accessed the environmental controls from his computer.  He couldn’t override lockdown and wouldn’t if he could.

That surprised him.  He’d thought of himself and Vailati as a pair of lovable goofballs in a world full of straight-arrow stiffs.  He hadn’t really thought of himself as a sacrifice-for-the-greater-good sort of bloke.  Sullivan, yes, he could see it.  She’d happily pour petrol over herself and light a match while singing “The Star-Spangled Banner” if she thought it would aid her country.

This wasn’t even his country.

It didn’t matter.  They couldn’t risk HA-001 escaping.  He knew all about invasive species.  If it got out, made it down into the sewers and started to reproduce they might never be able to eradicate it.  He wasn’t exactly relishing the prospect of being flash-frozen into an ice cube—or incinerated—but he saw the logic of it.  One life versus the lives of many was a simple equation.  He’d make the same call if it was him outside.

It didn’t have to come to that anyway.  Not if he could take control of the situation in here first.

He accessed the environmental controls and turned the lights down as low as they would go while still providing him enough illumination to see by.  Subject HA-001 was mildly phosphorescent.  It glowed blue in the dark.  Turning the lights down would give him the best chance of spotting it before . . .

* * * *

No one knew what Subject HA-001 had done to PFC Trey Sandoval in the fifteen minutes or so between her surprising and overwhelming him, and her eventual capture at the hands of PFC Sandoval’s squad.  The eyewitness reports were conflicting and confused.  One had sworn Subject HA-001 was trying to eat PFC Sandoval.  Another was convinced she was trying to mate with him.  The facts shorn of conjecture were this:  They’d found Sandoval naked and lying on his back with his body partially engulfed by Subject HA-001.  Thinking there still might be a chance to save him his squad-mates had resisted the trigger impulse to start blasting away.  Instead, one of them, CPL Rutan, had taken careful aim and put a bullet through what they thought was Subject HA-001’s head.  The bullet passed straight through and didn’t do anything other than attract Subject HA-001’s attention.

“She turned and gave me a look like the one my ex-wife used to give me every night I came back home late and drunk,” Rutan told them.

It had been SFC Cederlund’s idea to use a fire extinguisher.

“Worked in The Blob,” he’d told them afterwards.

It worked here as well.  Subject HA-001 did not like cold.  It caused her to contract, slow down, and finally become dormant.

At first they’d thought they’d saved PFC Sandoval.  Outwardly his tissues and exposed skin showed no signs of damage from being surrounded by Subject HA-001.  They’d even joked about PFC Sandoval’s large and noticeable erection.

This was before the other reports of aggressive sexual behaviour from H-space life forms had started to come in.

Apparently it took two hours for Sandoval’s erection to subside.  Most of the ribald jokes had faded away by then.  Sandoval was still out cold and nothing anyone did was able to revive him.  He was alive and breathing, but appeared to be in some kind of coma.  The doctors didn’t know how to wake him because they couldn’t understand how HA-001 had induced the coma in the first place.  They’d scanned Sandoval’s brain back on Earth and it looked perfectly healthy.  Sandoval should have woken with no ill-effects at all.  That was a few weeks ago.  As far as John was aware, PFC Sandoval was still in the same coma somewhere on the base.

* * * *

John stared at the screen.  No reply back from anyone in Security.  That was a bad sign.  Maybe the decision to flip the switch had already been made and they didn’t want the psychological awkwardness of speaking to the condemned man.

He cycled through the internal cameras.  No sign of Subject HA-001.  The tank was still empty and the moment Security saw that they would have confirmation the alarms going off wasn’t a glitch.

He had to act first.

John picked up a fire extinguisher and moved cautiously through the lab.  The room was completely silent.  Red warning messages blinked on monitor screens.  He reached the big glass tank at the centre of the lab.  He saw no sign of blue phosphorescence.  So much for hoping Subject HA-001 had left behind a slime trail.

He advanced to the back of the lab with the fire extinguisher held out before him like a gun.

They didn’t know how smart Subject HA-001 was.  John hoped he was wrong, but he suspected the reason they didn’t know how smart HA-001 was because HA-001 didn’t want them to know how smart HA-001 was.  This was not a thought that comforted him as he picked his way between the workbenches.  Neither was the knowledge he was a single button press away from instantaneous obliteration.

He felt something splatter on his right hand.

* * * *

They’d brought in John because they thought HA-001 was a giant amoeba with an uncanny ability to mimic the human form, and he was the amoeba guy.

HA-001 wasn’t an amoeba.  John and Vailati didn’t know what she was.  The samples they took from Subject HA-001’s body didn’t help either.  They didn’t seem to know what they were either.  Sometimes John saw highly complex protein structures he’d never seen before, sometimes he saw strange inorganic compounds, and other times it was just water.

John and Vailati weren’t even sure if HA-001 was alive, at least in the conventional sense.

He couldn’t remember how the incident with his semen in a Petri dish had come about.  It had probably been a stupid bet or dare with Vailati.  That was how most of these things started.

Vailati had a theory that HA-001’s protean nature indicated she had an unstable genome and needed a constant supply of genetic material in order to replenish herself.  As theories went it was wild and woolly, but given they’d spent a solid week in the lab and determined nothing, it was about as good as any other conjecture.

John had gone into one of the cupboards and jacked off onto a Petri dish.  They’d placed the Petri dish in the tank and had briefly been excited when HA-001 had sucked it up with a pseudopod.  Then they’d felt a little foolish as they realised it didn’t prove anything.  She’d have probably done the same with a saucer of milk.

Sullivan had been livid.  She thought it was immature hi-jinks and had no place in a serious lab.  She’d been even less happy about Vailati’s next proposal.

God knows where Vailati had found his volunteer.  John knew the killbot factory training must be hardcore, but this was devotion bordering on the insane.  There was no way John would put his naked dick anywhere near HA-001.  Somehow Vailati had managed to find a man blindly obedient enough to be willing to do that.

At least Vailati gave some thought to the man’s safety.  They partitioned the tank with the volunteer, PV2 Vinnie George, on one side and Subject HA-001 on the other.  The only way for her to reach George was by extruding a pseudopod through a small hole in the partition wall.  Suspended above that aperture—guillotine-like—was a sharp blade.  If they started to lose control of the experiment they would bring the blade down, slicing off HA-001’s appendage.  Based on previous experiments, any part of HA-001 separated from the main body quickly liquefied.

Privately John still thought PV2 Vinnie George was less brave than stark-raving bonkers.

HA-001 went straight for the naked man’s cock.  She sent a feeler through the aperture and it wrapped around and then enveloped the volunteer soldier’s penis.

“If you feel numbness, a burning sensation or any other kind of discomfort let us know immediately and we’ll terminate the experiment.”

“It feels okay,” George said, looking down at his engulfed member with a degree of stoicism that amazed John.  “Kind of nice actually, like she’s—Oh!—”  His mouth dropped open in surprise.  “—trying to tug me off.”

John saw it as well.  Through the transparent blue skin of HA-001’s pseudopod he saw George’s foreskin move back and forth.  HA-001’s appendage bunched up as it manipulated George’s cock.  She was clearly masturbating him.

He also noted—with some envy—that George was hung like the proverbial horse.

“Oh that feels really good.”  George turned to Vailati with a broad grin.  “Is she supposed to be jerking me off?”

“If you feel uncomfortable we can terminate the experiment at any time,” Vailati said.

“No no.  It’s fine,” George said.  “More than fine.”

HA-001 extruded more protoplasm through the aperture and her pseudopod formed a thick, pulsing cuff around George’s erection.  John watched the man’s foreskin move back and forth as HA-001 continued to wank the naked soldier.  George closed his eyes and started to moan in pleasure.

This was the moment when Sullivan stormed off in a huff.

“Probably more sexual arousal than she gets to see in a year,” John joked with Vailati.

“Uh, I think I’m going to . . .”  George didn’t get a chance to finish.  His body shuddered and he spurted thick ropes of white semen into HA-001’s slime sheath.  She sucked it down, using her pseudopod as if it was a pipe.  HA-001 sent more of her body through the aperture, thickening the tentacle connecting her to George’s crotch.

John watched as structures formed within her pseudopod.  He frowned.  This was something they hadn’t seen before.  HA-001’s body was best described as a bag of transparent blue fluid moulded into the shape of a woman.  They hadn’t seen any evidence of organelles at either the macro or micro level.  They hadn’t even found anything resembling a nucleus.

John watched as colourless rings formed within the clear blue slime.  They were plump like transparent doughnuts and slowly pulsed.  They settled around George’s cock like a hoops on a post.  The volunteer gave a loud gasp.  He was hung like a horse, but still, there was no way the explosion of white cum that erupted from the end of his cock could be natural.  George shuddered and shivered on the spot.  His hips swung loosely back and forth as a river of milky-white cum flowed down the transparent tentacle to HA-001.  There was no way a person could produce that much cum, even if they’d been gifted the sex organs of a satyr.

“Shut it,” John said.

Vailati agreed with him.  He closed the aperture, slicing off HA-001’s appendage.  Separated from the main mass, the pseudopod liquefied and splashed onto the floor of the tank.  HA-001 gave a silent sigh of disappointment.

“Whoa, dear fucking Jesus,” George said.  He looked about as steady on his feet as a newborn deer.  This was a six-foot-plus ogre of a man with a barrel for a chest.

“What did it feel like?” Vailati asked.

“Fucking awesome, doc, if you’ll excuse the language,” George said, a shit-eating grin on his face.  “Like the best fucking blowjob ever.”

They did some tests on George afterwards.  There seemed to be no ill effects apart from some strange, purely cosmetic, markings on the man’s penis.  John had wondered if those transparent doughnut organelles had been in the process of bonding with the man in some way, a process that had been interrupted when they’d terminated the experiment.

“You need me again?” George asked, hopeful, as he’d left the lab area.  “I’ll do it again, no problem.  Hell, once word gets around you’ll have a big line of grunts outside the door wanting to volunteer.”

That was yesterday.

* * * *

John felt something splatter on his right hand.  Like water dripping from the ceiling . . . only he knew it wasn’t water.

He knew how this went.  He’d seen it before in countless horror films.  He’d look up and there would be the blob, clinging to the ceiling above him.  He’d open his mouth to scream, but it would be too late as the blob flopped down on top of him.

John was smarter than that.

He was already diving to his right as a wet mass detached from the ceiling and landed with a splat right where he’d been standing mere moments before.

Unfortunately John was a lab rat who’d never had much time for the exercise field.  He was no action-movie gymnast.  Action-movie gymnasts also had the advantage of multiple takes.  They didn’t have to use the one where they collided with a lab bench, jarred their knee and dropped the one weapon that could save them.

He wasn’t sure it would have done him much good in any case.  HA-001 was fast.  She sprang back from her fall and was already gushing towards him.  His body was lifted up as a surge of protoplasm flowed under him.  The soft substance, more solid than the liquid it resembled, bulged up and formed a natural pillow for his head.  It happened so fast he didn’t realise he was caught until she was dragging him back to the jiggling main mass of her body.

And he was caught.  Just like an insect stuck in amber before it set.  He moved his arms and legs back and forth to no discernible effect, like an ungainly frog trying to swim in thick jelly.  HA-001 reared up above him and then flopped down on top of him.  His sodden clothes were torn off him like wet tissue paper.  Breasts like quivering bowls of jelly rested on his chest as she looked down at him and smiled.

“I’ve been looking forward to this moment ever since you gave me a taste of your seed.”

Her speaking didn’t come as much of a surprise to John.  He’d suspected for a while she was intelligent enough to hide that intelligence from them.  It also gave him a sliver of hope—unlike a mindless amoeboid, she could be reasoned with.

“The whole lab is being monitored,” he said.  “If you don’t stop this and go back to your tank they’ll torch the both of us.”

HA-001 shook her head.

“No they won’t,” she said.  “I’m too valuable a specimen.”

“Doesn’t matter,” John said.  “They won’t risk you escaping.  They’ll incinerate everything in here.”

“Who said anything about escaping,” HA-001 said, pursing her lips in an insouciant pout.  “After I’ve had my fun with you I’m going to go back to my little tank and continue to play the good little test subject . . . until the time is right.”

Smart enough to reason with, but also smart enough to think several moves ahead.

“What do you mean by fun?” he asked.

HA-001 traced a little circle around his exposed nipple with a molten finger, leaving behind a glistening blue trail that glowed in the gloom.

“Fun,” she said.  Her lips plumped up in a suggestive pout.  “And I know you want to have fun with me as well.  I’ve seen the way you look at me, the way those naughty eyes of yours get stuck on my gooey breasts.”

She sat up until it looked like she was straddling him, but instead of legs her upper body flowed down into an undifferentiated pile of glowing blue jelly.  She cupped hands under her enormous boobs like a greengrocer weighing melons.

“Come, touch them.  I know you’ve wanted to put your hands on them for a while.”

She plucked his hands out of her sticky mass.  John felt curiously non-resistive, as if her glowing body emitted a radiation that sapped away all his energy.  He didn’t struggle as she took his hands and pressed them palm-flat against the swell of her breasts.

This was a little weird and not all that unpleasant.  In truth he had wondered what it would feel like and wasn’t disappointed as he felt the pressure of her soft boobs against his hand.  It reminded him of a conference in Montreal.  His colleagues had dragged him off to a strip club afterwards and a statuesque brunette had taken him up to a little cubicle and forced him to put his hands on boobs as big as milk jugs.  HA-001 had even larger breasts and there was something about her skin—smooth, soft, warm—that made his own skin crave contact.

John didn’t even mind as his fingers started to sink beneath the surface.  It meant more surface area could come into contact with her.  His hands sank into the transparent bulge of her breasts until they were embedded up to his wrists.  Now her warmth was all around his fingers.  He felt quiet pulses run through her gelatinous body, a gentle beat he longed to share.

HA-001 flowed over and around him in delicious little ripples.  She straddled him and he was partially engulfed by her gelatinous form.  Rather than being a source of terror John found it surprisingly erotic.  His cock swelled up in an impressive erection, helped along by HA-001.  Her hand felt like it was dripping with warm lubricant as it stroked up and down John’s hard-on.

“I knew you were up for some fun,” she said with a suggestive smile.

John wondered if Security was watching the camera feeds and what they’d make of this.  It must look like they were shagging.  Of course it would look like they were shagging.  She was astride him and he had his hands on—okay, in—her tits.  What else would it look like?

Were they fucking?

HA-001 settled in his lap and John’s cock was enveloped by the moist protoplasm of her body.  Oh wow.  It felt like oil-covered hands with countless fingers slithering up and down his shaft.  Or countless warm mouths filled with a multitude of tickling tongues.  HA-001 moved up and down on top of him and her motions sent waves undulating through the bed of jelly she’d piled up under John’s naked body.  He floated within her and felt like he was drowning in sensual sensation.

Yeah, definitely fucking.

For science, he told himself.  Not that pleasure like this needed any excuses.

“I don’t understand,” he said as she rocked and rolled on top of him.  “You’re a different species, from a different dimension.  This can’t be for procreation.”

“This isn’t for procreation,” HA-001 said.  She threw back her head and sighed as she pressed gelatinous hips down on John’s lap.  “This is how I feed.”

Okay, so that wasn’t the most romantic of answers, but it did give validity to one of Vailati’s theories.

“The semen?” he said.

They thought HA-001’s genome was unstable and as a result she sought fresh DNA to maintain her own.  Semen was packed with sperm and sperm were a delivery mechanism to pass on an organism’s DNA.  Semen must be like high-grade oil to her and as a result her species must have evolved to be adept at harvesting semen from other organisms.

Or something like that.  It was probably a bollocks theory, but H-space was not exactly conducive to sensible scientific theory.  The physicists had it even worse.

Fuck it, who cared when it felt like a hundred willing harlots were all kissing his naked flesh at the same time.

HA-001 rose up and down on top of him and her gelid breasts wobbled around his engulfed hands.  Her skin was translucent and John could see his erection sticking up inside her.  It was weird seeing it engulfed within her protoplasm.  It would have been frightening had it not felt so good.  The only melting sensation he felt was the relaxation of really satisfying sex.

Structures started to form within her protoplasm.  He’d seen this before in the experiment with PV2 Vinnie George, where she’d produced some kind of intracellular organelles, but at the macro level.

A sliver of concern flittered into John’s thoughts and roosted.  No one had been able to rouse PFC Sandoval from the coma his body had fallen into after his encounter with HA-001.

“Listen,” John said.  “I don’t mind you sucking up some of my semen, but you need to be careful.  The first man you fed off is still in a coma.  Something in your biochemistry might have an adverse effect on our physiology.”

HA-001 continued to rise up and down with languid bobs.  Her motions caused John to rock and sway within her gelatinous body.

“He didn’t complain,” HA-001 said, “and neither will you.”

Like before, the organelles resembled transparent puffy doughnuts.  John’s protests were forestalled as one of them settled over his cock.  His mouth dropped open and he quivered uncontrollably in pleasure as the ring stretched to accommodate his glans and then rolled down his twitching shaft.  It felt like his cock had just plunged up into a soft, tight orifice.  The ring settled down around his root and throbbed pleasurably.


John managed that far before a second translucent doughnut settled over his cock and rolled down the shaft.  Smiling, HA-001 slowly bobbed up and down on top of him.  She puffed another elastic ring around John’s throbbing hard-on while he squirmed and writhed in helpless pleasure.

They’d seen her do this to PV2 George.  No wonder he’d been so eager to volunteer again.

A fourth ring wrapped around his cock and little spurt of precum escaped his urethral opening.  HA-001 used her protoplasm to suck it off his glans with a contented sigh.

A fifth and sixth ring settled around John’s cock.  Only the tip was visible now—half of the mushroom head sticking up out of the top ring.  The soft doughnuts contracted and squeezed his whole cock as she masturbated him with a precision that shouldn’t be possible for two species that had never encountered each other throughout their entire evolutionary history.

John really wanted to come.  This was too much.  He writhed and rocked on her cushion of protoplasm and desperately wanted to jet great torrents of spunk into her molten centre.  But he couldn’t come.  He didn’t understand it.  At this point George had been pissing streams of white stuff into her protoplasm.  John felt stuck.  Was it those weird doughnut organelles?  They contracted in rhythmic undulations around his cock, pumping him like an expert hooker wanking him off.

And still he couldn’t come.  Like there was a blockage in there.

HA-001 rubbed his naked sides with her hands.  The moist protoplasm of her body followed her motions and slid against his skin in a sensual massage.

“Your sex organs are mine now,” HA-001 said.

She sighed.  John’s cock was enveloped by a pleasant feeling of warmth.  It felt like the transparent doughnut structures were melting into him, or he melting into them—becoming one single organ.

“I’m bonded to you,” HA-001 said, giving out another little erotic gasp.  “Now I control how much pleasure you receive and when you can come.”

Too reinforce the point she gave her rings a little squeeze.  Pleasure throbbed through John’s body, but still he couldn’t find the release he craved.


They’d stopped the experiment with PV2 George at this point.  Afterwards they’d noticed some markings on the man’s penis, but they hadn’t looked serious and George hadn’t complained of any discomfort.

John’s body flexed and arched on the bouncy bed of protoplasm.  The structures within HA-001’s body stroked and squeezed, stimulating him to far past the point of climax while simultaneously denying him release.  His hands, still buried within her jelly breasts, clenched and he felt the warm protoplasm of her body squish between his fingers.

HA-001 pouted sexily down at him.  Another structure began to form within her body, about where the stomach would be on a human.  It started out as a silvery little bubble or vesicle, and then expanded until it was the size of a small melon.

They hadn’t seen this before.  An ominous feeling of fear punctured his pleasure.  He remembered the original victim, PFC Sandoval.  He was still in a hospital bed, little more than a vegetable.

“It’s not compatible with my biochemistry,” he said as the bubble drifted down towards his cock like a spherical jellyfish.  “You’re going to put me in a coma.”

HA-001 didn’t seem to care.  She swayed up and down on top of him.  The transparent rings squeezed and pumped his cock with increasing speed and force.  Still John couldn’t come.  It was like the bottom ring had pinched his urethra shut and nothing could get past.  The pressure in his balls grew and grew.

“I’ll scream and yell out if you don’t stop this,” John warned.  “They’ll incinerate the lab if they think there’s no chance of saving me.”

HA-001 said nothing, simply smiled.  Her gelatinous breasts pulled his hands in deeper.  The molten interior of her body slithered around his fingertips and triggered memories of hands sliding over breasts, of fingers passing over the aroused bumps of nipples, of palms against the smooth skin of a round ass, of digits exploring the moist folds of a lover’s sex.  The sensations sprang from his fingertips—memories of pleasures past and wishes of pleasures desired.

The other organelle, the transparent silvery bubble, settled around the head of his cock.

John didn’t scream or yell out.

The gossamer membrane enveloped his glans and a warm, shivery sensation of pleasure flowed into him.  He could see his foreskin through the semi-transparent rings.  It moved up and down with the motions of HA-001’s body.  HA-001 quickened her motions as John’s cock was drawn up into the silvery vesicle.  His glans became magnified—distorted—by the bubble’s surface.

It felt like John’s pleasures were magnified as well.  He wanted to come.  Needed to come.  His balls felt on the verge of bursting.  If only he could get past that . . .

And then the obstruction was gone.  John’s whole body sang with relief as his hips bucked and he ejaculated.  His milky-white semen puffed out in a dense white cloud within the silvery bubble.  It wasn’t enough for the slime girl.  The bubble expanded and throbbed like the bell of a jellyfish around the end of his cock.  The rings bounced up and down as if milking him.

“Now I feed,” HA-001 sighed, her eyes half-closed.

The stimulus was too much.  The ejaculation kept going.  John was helpless to resist as he poured semen into her.

Poured everything.

It was a torrent uprooting everything in its path, including John.  His mind felt like it had come adrift from his body.  It spun and swirled as if caught in a great whirlpool, turning round and round until John felt completely discombobulated.  For a moment he felt as though he existed in two places simultaneously.  There he was, lying on a bed of blue protoplasm and looking up at a girl made of the same substance straddling his body.  Within her body he saw an expanding silvery bubble and on its surface was a distorted, funhouse-mirror reflection of his face.  And there he was, floating in a giant bubble and looking down at a naked man lying in a mass of transparent blue jelly.  The man’s body trembled as if volcanic activity was rumbling away beneath the surface of its quivering form.

The disorientation passed and John realised with horror he’d been stranded in the wrong existence.  He was no longer looking up at the gelatinous body of the slime girl; he was staring out from a jelly prison at a naked body that slowly ceased movement.

His body.

He was staring at his naked body as it lay limply within her like a toy with all the batteries pulled out.

He understood then.  They were wrong.  It wasn’t the semen she sought but what could be loosened and sucked out with it.  He’d been wrong about a great many things.  They all had.

The bubble began to shrink around him.

* * * *

The experimental subject designated HA-001 sighed in satisfaction.  She oozed back to her tank and climbed back inside.

She was in no hurry to escape.  Not yet.  It wasn’t the right time.

She settled inside, closed her eyes and rested in blissful torpor as she digested the soul inside her.

No, she would be patient.  They’d let her know when the moment was right.  And then she would feast.

She did wonder why the other human had left her tank open though.

* * * *

Danielle Sullivan presented the agent with a flash drive containing the camera footage from the lab between 21:30 and 23:00.  The man plugged it into his computer and checked the footage.  He nodded.

“He’s in a vegetative state, just like the other one,” Sullivan said.

The agent nodded.  “We thought that might happen.”

“It’s unfortunate,” Sullivan said.  “But better him than an American citizen.”

The man nodded.  He fast forwarded through the footage, checking everything was present.

“The film should be everything our scientists need,” Sullivan said.  “I’m assuming they’re going to study it in order to work out how we can best combat Subject HA-001 and others like it.”

The agent looked up at her.  “Oh no.  The commander has a huge goo girl fetish.  As soon as he found out about Subject HA-001 he demanded we make a tape of her in action.”

Sullivan’s mouth fell open.

The agent said nothing more as he finished checking the footage.  He unplugged the flash drive and walked away with it.  Sullivan watched him go.

He was yanking her chain with a silly joke, same as those stupid boys.  That’s what it was.

Wasn’t it?



As per the usual plug, if you enjoyed this story there are some books I can recommend for you.  There will not be a new collection out this month as it's not complete to a standard I'm happy with (see post below).  The rest of those stories will come out a little later when I've had a chance to get more on top of things.

Wednesday, November 06, 2013

"A Succubus for Remembrance" Excerpts - Vernon the Volunteer

I was going to post a new excerpt yesterday but had a horror journey back from holiday that culminated in a car that wouldn't start and a flooded kitchen.  Fun times.

I still don't have a concrete release date as I'm still waiting on a few things like a cover and some final editing tweaks.  Usual #ChaosWriting, in other words.  I'll update here as soon as the new book goes live (hopefully sometime next week).

In the meantime here's an excerpt from the third of the hell-space stories in the collection, "Vernon the Volunteer".  (It's also a little bit more NSFW than the other excerpts).

* * * *

“—give a demonstration of the techniques used by H-space indigenous life forms to overwhelm and subdue opponents.”

Vernon didn’t really hear the doctor.  He was still staring at the girl who’d joined them up on stage with slack-jawed appreciation.  Holy shee-it.  Were all the girls of H-space as hot as this?  She was fucking smoking.  She looked like a lingerie model.  That was all she was wearing as well—lingerie.

Well kind of.

Vernon didn’t know what it was.  Some kind of inky-black substance covered her boobs and pussy like a cloud.  Didn’t bother Vernon that much.  Why be bothered about that when a super-hot babe was standing in front of him.  Vernon certainly wasn’t.  Like he wasn’t bothered by her horns either . . . or those yellow eyes . . .

Vernon frowned.  His brow furrowed.

. . . or her wings . . . or her tail . . . or the way she looked like a . . . devil . . .

Then she smiled at him with a face that looked like it belonged on the cover of a magazine.

No, it was way better than that.  Model types were all haughty, stuck-up bitches.  He could see she wasn’t like that.  She was more like one of those pretty actresses that play the sweet girl next-door, and were just as nice as the characters they portrayed.

Vernon knew a girl just like that back home.  What was her name again . . .

Vampyrotiea’s eyes met his.  Her smile looked innocent and sweet on the surface, but there was a little curl at the corner that promised naughty pleasures once the lights went out and it was just them, alone.

. . . oh, he couldn’t remember.  Didn’t seem important.

“Vampyrotiea is a succubus,” the doctor said to him in a quiet voice.

Vernon’s eyes remained fixed on Vampyrotiea’s.  The doctor’s voice was an irritating mosquito whine in his ear he tried to ignore.

“Sexual intercourse with her will kill you.”

“Uh huh,” Vernon said, not caring what the doctor said.

She was gorgeous.  Amazingly, beautifully, gorgeously hot.  She had the full package—nice rack, peach of an ass, long toned legs.  And she was smiling at him.


“I’m so sorry, son,” the doctor said before walking away.

“Uh huh,” Vernon nodded again.

His hands were pointing forward from his sides.  He had the strong urge to reach out and grab her round the waist.  No.  Mustn’t scare her off.  He had to be smooth.

“What’s your name?” the girl asked.

She placed a warm hand against his cheek.

“Vernon,” Vernon replied.

His hand itched at his side.  He ached to slide it over the curve of that peachy ass, to feel her smooth skin beneath his fingers.

“I’m Vampyrotiea, Vernon,” Vampyrotiea said.

She caressed his cheek.  The strange inky-black substance covering her breasts flowed up her arm like the tendrils of a plant.  Didn’t seem important.

“I want you to do something for me, Vernon,” Vampyrotiea said.

He picked up a strange scent.  It must be her perfume.  Fancy perfume.  Expensive perfume.  Sexy perfume.

“I want you to pull your pants down.  Can you do that for me, Vernon?” she asked in a voice as smooth as the most expensive silk.

For a babe like her, of course he could.  Vernon undid his pants and dropped them and his underwear to the floor.  His boner popped up like a flagpole.

Vampyrotiea’s eyes lit up.  She murmured sexily and her other hand stroked up and down his shaft.  It was soft and gentle, just like her smile.  Twin tendrils of darkness slithered down her arm and nudged against his exposed boner.  Ticklish.

“I want you to fuck me, Vernon,” Vampyrotiea said.  “Fuck me hard from behind.”

She turned around and bent over a chair with her legs splayed apart.  That peach of a bubble-butt ass was right in his face and waggling invitingly.  The oily black cloud swirling between her legs parted like rainclouds before the sun and for a moment Vernon glimpsed . . .

. . . something like a maw.  A circular maw like the mouth of a lamprey, but with no teeth.  Instead Vernon saw rows and rows of fleshy lips.  It gaped open, deep purple in color and lined with pulsing black veins . . .

. . . the folds of her exposed vagina, moist and dewy-dropped with arousal.  She glanced back at him over her shoulder.  Her luscious lips were bunched up in a sultry pout and need smoldered in her eyes.  She was eager for him.  Desperate for him.

* * * *

I don't think this demonstration is going to end well . . .

Apologies for the continuing vagueness over the release date.  Keep an eye out here and I'll post as soon as the book hits the (virtual) shelves.

Sunday, November 25, 2012

New Story - "Trent the Traitor"

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

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

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

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

Hence this outpouring from the noxious regions of my mind:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunday, August 12, 2012

A Succubus for Freedom: Excerpt 5

Continuing the excerpts from A Succubus for Freedom, here's a tasty chunk from the other new Hell-space story, "Onychophoral Dreams (The Soul Worm II)":

* * * *

It was quiet. I didn’t notice it until it was almost right on top of me and by then I was too surprised to react. She—

That’s the weird part. It’s so easy to focus on the human-like parts and forget their other . . . bits. I know I should think of it as an it, but it’s always a she.

She was right in front of me, not more than a couple of paces and as naked as the day she was born. Cute as well. She had a smile like the girls you always wanted to talk to at school, but never had the courage to ask. Those naked titties of hers were something to behold. Big, round, firm, and with the sweetest pink nipples you ever saw right in the middle of them. Pink like her hair, if it was hair.

I didn’t move. Ever since Beth . . . since Beth . . .

. . .

It’s been a while since I’ve seen a girl’s titties in the flesh. The other guys’ll go to their strip clubs, maybe get more if it’s offered, but not me. That ain’t me. Now there was this gorgeous naked girl standing right in front of me and I was so shocked I didn’t have the first idea what to do.

Except she wasn’t a girl. You only had to look down to past her waist to see that. Where a normal girl would have a cute little ass and maybe long sexy legs if you’re lucky, this girl had . . .

It’s hard to describe. Hey, you know what a velvet worm is? Proper name is peripati or puripatus or something like that.

Nephew of mine likes keeping weird little bugs for pets and that was one of them. They call it a worm, but it walks. Has these stumpy little legs—not like a millipede, more like a caterpillar.

Anyway, that’s what the girl’s lower body looked like—long, worm-like and dark pink in colour, but with rows of stumpy little triangular legs running down each side. She’d reared up so it looked like she was standing upright like a normal girl, but with that long, moist-looking worm body below the waist and fleshy little pyramid legs waving around in front of her. Even if you couldn’t see that lower peripati-whatever body, you’d still know she wasn’t a human girl. She had antennae. They grew out of her temples like the eyestalks of a slug. There was a second, bigger pair, growing out of her hips on either side of her pussy.

Ah, her pussy. It’s going to sound weird, like I’m the biggest goddamn pervert in the world, but I swear to you it was the sweetest damn little cunny you’re ever likely to see. So clean-shaven, as if it had been plucked, and with all her intimate folds tucked up so nice and tidy within her.

I know how I sound—a fucking deviant lusting after freaky demon poonang—but there was something about her exposed vagina. It drew the gaze, grabbed the eye and held it there like it had been harpooned. I don’t know how to explain it. I’m a good man, a god-fearing man. Heck, there hasn’t been anyone since Beth. Yet I was staring and gawping like I was back at puberty with my first porn mag beneath trembling fingers.

And while I was standing there and gawping like a deer in headlights those weird stalks sticking out of where her hips should be opened out into fleshy tubes and sprayed gunk all over me.

The gunk left her tubes as a jet of liquid, but it was already solidifying by the time it reached me—setting like glue or maybe some kind of stretchy rubber. The first sticky line hitting me in the chest knocked me out of my trance. I tried to struggle free, but it was already too late. She stood there and squirted more sticky threads over me until I was totally gunked up.

At that point I noticed the sticky gunk was eating right through my clothes like acid and I really started panicking. I thought for sure I was going to be melted in freaky alien slime. I thrashed around like a berserker.

Not that it did me any good. The thick threads stretched, but they were strong like thick rubber and stickier than glue. The girl thought it was funny. She stood there with her arms under those perfect pink titties and her shoulders moving up and down like she was giggling.

I was a crazed animal at this point. I was dreading the moment when the slime finished eating through my uniform and started to cut into my flesh.

It didn’t happen. As corrosive as the gunk seemed to be to clothes—and hair—I didn’t feel any pain or loss of sensation when it reached my skin. It felt warm, sticky and kind of pervy. Yeah, a weird description, I know, but that’s how it was. The stuff covered me and I felt all dirty and excited at the same time, like I was about to have illicit sex with that girl at school everyone warns you to steer clear of.

I kept pulling at the sticky, stretchy filaments, but my motions were slower now, like a punch drunk boxer on the ropes in the tenth round. I was stuck fast and knew it.

“Have you quite finished?”

Yeah, she spoke perfect English. It was a shock to me too. I stopped struggling and stared at her like I was an inbred redneck.

Her voice was high and sweet, kind of like a young woman being all teasy and girlish. She had that kind of face as well, if you ignored her weird antennae things.

“You won’t break loose, no matter how hard you struggle,” she said.

She was right. I was all trussed up in her sticky white ropes. What unnerved me was part of me seemed perfectly happy with this.

“What do you want?” I asked.

She didn’t miss a beat. She reached down and hooked a finger right up between the folds of her pussy. I swear that sweet little face went and gave me a smile dirtier than the filthiest jezebel.

* * * *

Out now on Amazon, B & N, Smashwords and other ebook websites.

Saturday, October 01, 2011

A Succubus for Halloween: Excerpt II

Three weeks to go and it's time for another excerpt to crank the hype handle. While I do love a deliciously sinful demoness with horns, wings, tail and a body so hot it smokes, occasionally I like to cut my imagination loose and get really freaky. Yep, it's time to enter Hell-Space again. Here's an excerpt from "Shrimp and the Crab-Centaur Girls":

* * * *

“Base, can you hear me? Base? Over,” Collins said into the radio.

All he got back was a hiss and crackle.

“Radio’s fucked again,” he said.

“Must be atmospherics,” Rutherford said.

“Or something else,” Shrimp said.

He showed them his iPod. The screen was going nuts. Black shapes flittered back and forth across it like over-anxious ants.

“That’s not all,” he continued. “None of my electrical equipment is working either.”

“We’ll carry on,” Hackett said. “It could be just a localised disturbance.”

They carried on down a barren wide valley lined with rough brown boulders. They travelled a short distance before Banks stopped them again with a raised fist. His hand wobbled, as if he wasn’t too sure of himself.

“What now?” Hackett asked. “You seeing another bare-breasted blonde?”

“Um...actually, yes” Banks replied.

What? Collins hurried round the bend in the path, eager to see like the rest of the squad.

A blonde girl stood behind a boulder up ahead of them. Only her upper body was visible and it was completely naked. What a body it was too. She was tall and curvy—a natural cheerleader. Her blonde hair was long and silky and her eyes were as blue as the skies back home.

At first she was coy. Her arms were folded to hide her exposed breasts. Then she looked at the men, smiled and her shyness tumbled away as she dropped her arms. A large pair of titties swung free, each topped with a perky pink nipple. She looked down at them, as fearless as a stripper.

Fuck, she was hot. Brains versus looks conversations aside, Collins had been lucky enough to have his pick of the girls during his school life. He would have traded all of them for a chance to put his hands on those ripe melons and fuck her from behind like a dog.

Everyone was motionless. No one was quite sure what to do. Rutherford looked like he wanted to wolf whistle as if he was back at his favourite strip joint. Shrimp’s eyes were as big as saucers. He probably hadn’t had many opportunities to see girls like this, naked and in the flesh.

Fuck, even porn directors didn’t get to see girls like this.

The girl moved to the side. A naked leg, lithe and gloriously long, stepped out from behind the boulder. She wore no shoes and even though her foot looked delicate, the rough ground didn’t bother her as she rested lightly on the ball of her foot.

A second leg followed, coming down a little behind the first and then it at all started to get weird.

A second leg?

Collins wasn’t sure of what he was seeing.

There was her right leg, gracefully bent at the knee, and behind that, another right leg, the same as the first.

He watched, incredulous, as a third joined the other two.

What the fuck?

It reminded him of paintings he’d seen in an Indian restaurant. The people in them had three times the number of heads and about five times the number of arms and legs. This was just like that.

A fourth leg stepped out behind the others and then the girl, or whatever she was, slid out from behind the boulder.

Her upper body was human right down to her hips. After that she became something monstrous. Her lower body expanded out into a wide bulbous disc. It looked like the abdomen of a spider or crab, but covered in fleshy pink human skin rather than a hard carapace. Four legs sprouted from each side of her abdomen. They looked like human legs, but she used them like a crab.

The worst part was where her human torso joined with her monstrous abdomen. There was an orifice there, right where the pussy would be on a normal girl, but it was far far larger. It looked like a mouth, a mouth with a gigantic pair of overstuffed lips. They were pink, plush and currently pouting in the grotesque mockery of a kiss. The lips parted a little and Collins saw an interior that was pink and moist.

* * * *

Don't worry. Not all the stories are this weird. Some of them are worse...

Friday, April 22, 2011

Close, but no Earth Day goodies for me

The winners of Literotica's 2011 Earth Day contest were announced yesterday. My internet connection has been lousy all week (which is why this is a day late), but I was able to log in and find out I'd finished outside the top three.

Don't Fuck The Flowers did a lot better than I expected considering it's a weird erotic horror story with a bad ending and some highly dubious humour. At one point, right before the cut off, the story was in second place, although I think this was more a quirk of the anti-cheating measures Literotica has in place. It finished 5th, about .01 off third place in score.

I was surprised by how close it came. Traditionally, slushy feel-good stories come out on top. People like nice endings. I enter freaky kinky horror stories that are more likely to squick out than please the average reader because... well, that's just the way I am. :)

Thanks to everyone who read and voted. Hell-Space is turning into a nice little playground for me. I have a word file filling up with snippets and story ideas, so expect me to return there again in the future.

Friday, September 03, 2010

Of Succubi and Incubi

A question I saw on Twitter (that I'm too technologically feeble to work out how to answer there):

@manyeyedhydra What would, in ME Hydra's world, happen if a Succubus tried to feed off an Incubus? Surely the Inc would be able to last.

Some fairly epic fucking is my guess. Bring a camcorder, make a fortune from the porn industry... (hello, plot idea!)

Hmm, so what would happen? I'm not really sure.

If the demons were soul eaters would they even be interested in each other? I can imagine a world setting where incubi and succubi had no interest in each other because they couldn't feed off each other. (you can put the camcorder down, two demons doing nothing is not going to ignite the porn universe)

My succubi tend to be semen vamps. They make you ejaculate over and over until you run out of bodily fluids and die. How to fit an incubus in a universe that works like that? He's at a disadvantage. They fuck, he comes, she swallows, he comes, she swallows, he comes, she swallows, repeat until...he dies. Alas poor Inc, you do not work in this faux-biologically realistic setting.

Unless we get creative.

Get a woman excited and she'll get wet. Give our Inc a cock that also doubles up as a sponge or mouth for absorbing this... ahem... wetness and now we have a feeding mechanism that makes an attempt at suspension of disbelief. They fuck, she gets excited, he absorbs, she gets excited, he absorbs, she gets excited, he absorbs, she finally runs out of fluids and expires.

Now our Inc can fight!

And the winner is... whichever demon is individually more powerful in the hierarchy in use for the current setting I reckon. They fuck, the more powerful demon makes the other come themselves to oblivion (camcorder overheats and blows up at this point).

There's a hot story there.

Incubi aren't absent from the settings I write about, I just don't get round to writing stories about them because:

a) I'd rather write stories about sexy femme fatales.
b) There are already approximately a zillion animes featuring girls being raped by demons.
c) I'm really really bad at writing from the female POV.

Yeah, it's mainly c). Maybe someday, when I'm more confident in my (limited) abilities as a writer. There are some hell-space tales that need to be told...