A Succubus for Freedom is already out as you might have seen. I don't have exact details on when the print version will appear - hoping to have more information on that soon. In the meantime here's another excerpt from one of the new stories, "Come on the Candle". (Sorry about the repetition for the people who've already picked up a copy - I'll make it up with a new Jackson in HRPG World mini-serial starting here after I'm done with the ASfF promotion season.)
* * * *
“She looks like a devil,” Vince said.
The candle looked like the kind of prop you’d expect to see in an old Hammer film about Satan worshippers.
“That’s because she is,” Annette said. “She is Arpella, spirit of lust and temptation. The ritual is a rite of cleansing. By spraying his seed onto the candle, a man is—in essence—telling her: ‘Take this. It has no hold on me.’ It’s a way of demonstrating he has transcended the pleasures and desires of the flesh.”
“Arpella?” Vince queried. “Not Lilith?”
The sculpture looked like a Lilith, or one of those succubus demons from a computer fantasy role-playing game.
Annette laughed. “That’s a Christian invention,” she said. “They took their stories from the Romans and modified them, just as the Romans took theirs from the Greeks, and the Greeks took theirs from sources long forgotten in the dust of history.”
Vince looked at the candle. “This ritual. All I have to do is light the candle and masturbate over it?”
As genuine as Annette sounded, he couldn’t quite shake the fear the attractive shopkeeper was having a joke at his expense.
“That’s right,” she said.
“Sorry. I’m picturing this in my head and it looks . . . well . . . a little ridiculous to be honest.”
“Smell the wax,” Annette said.
Vince put the sculpture to his nose and took a cautious sniff. Oh. That smelt kind of nice. Exotic. Like perfume or incense, but with a hint of something else. His previous mental image of him jerking away in front of the candle was swished off screen and replaced by a picture of a dusky desert maiden belly-dancing in a cloud of scented smoke.
“That’s the real magic,” Annette explained. “The wax is impregnated with a special blend of aromatic compounds and essential oils. As the wax melts they’re released into the air and inhaled by the user.”
“Oh. It’s a kind of aromatherapy,” Vince said, understanding.
“Yes,” Annette said. “The smoke will help you relax and achieve the perfect state of mind for flushing all the tensions from your body.”
That was good to hear. Vince was a little apprehensive about the ‘flushing’ part.
“Actually,” Annette lowered her voice, “one of those compounds is quite a potent aphrodisiac. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by the force and strength of your release.”
The shop owner might have the voice of a prim and proper schoolmarm, but right there and then she gave him a look as filthy as any of the nymphs from the naughty films Carolyn had forbade Vince from seeing.
* * * *
It's Annette Brite up to more mischief. This one is best described as like "Bubble Bath", but with smoke. I haven't forgotten about that foam succubus minion either. I'll be catching up with her in the next collection.
And yeah, I know, Vince is a bit of a strawman. . .
Friday, August 10, 2012
Saturday, August 04, 2012
A Succubus for Freedom: Out Now!
You can’t escape . . . You won’t want to escape . . .
Succubi and other monstrous femme fatales abound in M.E. Hydra’s fourth collection of wild, warped and wickedly dark erotica. Lie back and enjoy as alluring sirens ensnare helpless prey in thirteen weird tales of sex and horror. They'll give you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams, and terrors beyond your darkest nightmares . . .
Here's the full list of the stories:
A Succubus for Freedom
Exile
Guard Duty
Don't Fuck the Flowers
The Biggest Tits in the World
A Night at McHooligans
Barbarian vs. Succubus
Onychophoral Dreams (The Soul Worm II)
Naga Massage Review
Come on the Candle
What Bad Boys Get For Christmas
Riding the Medusa
Locked in with a Succubus
Some of the titles will be familiar, but I managed to boost the original story content up to nearly half. Six of the stories are brand new and only appear in this book. I also modified a couple. "Locked in with a Succubus" should now have an ending that makes more sense. "The Biggest Tits in the World" is actually my lowest rated Lit story, partly because of some scale issues in what happens. No problem - Lovecraftian Geometry to the rescue!
The six brand new stories feature the stone tablet succubus being thoroughly evil in a hefty 11K word novella (if you like your demon girls BAD, you'll really enjoy this), the Robert E Howard 'Conan' homage I mentioned in previous posts, something a little experimental with some lush descriptions of hell, an odd succubus summoning rite with candles and smoke, and two Hell-space stories featuring some bizarre (and sexy) monster girls.
Why are the chapters for "Locked in with a Succubus" alternating with the other stories instead of in one place?
Originally it was a weekly serial and I wanted to preserve that feeling of having a 'pause' between each chapter. It's one of those things that might work or could suck. It wouldn't be any fun being independent if I couldn't do the odd bit of experimental craziness now and again...
The book can be found on amazon, and in amazon UK (where no one actually reads me, which is ironic considering they're the only people that might understand some of my more obscurer references! :) ). It's also on B&N, smashwords and also directly from eXcessica's own site. I even put it on various romance fiction sites, because that's where we upload books, although I pity the poor person downloading it in search of fuzzy paranormal romance.
I hope everyone enjoys it anyway. Sorry it was so late coming out. It does mean I can now finally get back to Succubus Summoning 201, another project I've fallen a little (okay a lot!) behind on. I would love for people to leave reviews, but appreciate that amazon's insistence on real names might make that unappealing for some people. Please feel free to let me know what you think in the comments below or even email me directly at manyeyedhydraATgooglemail.com. The same for any suggestions. I can't guarantee I can satisfy all of them, but I don't mind tweaking scenarios to cater to specific fetishes (especially ones I haven't got around to covering yet) or even tweaking character descriptions if there's someone/thing you'd like to see in a story.
Succubi and other monstrous femme fatales abound in M.E. Hydra’s fourth collection of wild, warped and wickedly dark erotica. Lie back and enjoy as alluring sirens ensnare helpless prey in thirteen weird tales of sex and horror. They'll give you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams, and terrors beyond your darkest nightmares . . .
Here's the full list of the stories:
A Succubus for Freedom
Exile
Guard Duty
Don't Fuck the Flowers
The Biggest Tits in the World
A Night at McHooligans
Barbarian vs. Succubus
Onychophoral Dreams (The Soul Worm II)
Naga Massage Review
Come on the Candle
What Bad Boys Get For Christmas
Riding the Medusa
Locked in with a Succubus
Some of the titles will be familiar, but I managed to boost the original story content up to nearly half. Six of the stories are brand new and only appear in this book. I also modified a couple. "Locked in with a Succubus" should now have an ending that makes more sense. "The Biggest Tits in the World" is actually my lowest rated Lit story, partly because of some scale issues in what happens. No problem - Lovecraftian Geometry to the rescue!
The six brand new stories feature the stone tablet succubus being thoroughly evil in a hefty 11K word novella (if you like your demon girls BAD, you'll really enjoy this), the Robert E Howard 'Conan' homage I mentioned in previous posts, something a little experimental with some lush descriptions of hell, an odd succubus summoning rite with candles and smoke, and two Hell-space stories featuring some bizarre (and sexy) monster girls.
Why are the chapters for "Locked in with a Succubus" alternating with the other stories instead of in one place?
Originally it was a weekly serial and I wanted to preserve that feeling of having a 'pause' between each chapter. It's one of those things that might work or could suck. It wouldn't be any fun being independent if I couldn't do the odd bit of experimental craziness now and again...
The book can be found on amazon, and in amazon UK (where no one actually reads me, which is ironic considering they're the only people that might understand some of my more obscurer references! :) ). It's also on B&N, smashwords and also directly from eXcessica's own site. I even put it on various romance fiction sites, because that's where we upload books, although I pity the poor person downloading it in search of fuzzy paranormal romance.
I hope everyone enjoys it anyway. Sorry it was so late coming out. It does mean I can now finally get back to Succubus Summoning 201, another project I've fallen a little (okay a lot!) behind on. I would love for people to leave reviews, but appreciate that amazon's insistence on real names might make that unappealing for some people. Please feel free to let me know what you think in the comments below or even email me directly at manyeyedhydraATgooglemail.com. The same for any suggestions. I can't guarantee I can satisfy all of them, but I don't mind tweaking scenarios to cater to specific fetishes (especially ones I haven't got around to covering yet) or even tweaking character descriptions if there's someone/thing you'd like to see in a story.
Thursday, August 02, 2012
A Succubus for Freedom: Out this Friday!
Yep, that's right. A slot opened up and so it will be out August 3rd after all. It means I'll have to compress my book plugging, but hey, who wants to read book plugs when you could be reading the actual book.
Here's an extract from the title story, "A Succubus for Freedom", to celebrate:
Andy thought the girl from his dream was just that—a dream. Then he saw her in the flesh a few nights later while they were playing a gig at The Wyld Hart.
The Wyld Hart was an odd sort of pub. It was too far off the beaten track to be absorbed into the bland franchise chain conglomerates and it didn’t have the history and character to be one of those defiant locals’ haunts. It wasn’t really the town’s rock pub either—that was The Drunken Choir out on Newcastle Street, where the bikers hung out—but it had been colonized by the metal and emo kids from the town’s schools and college. They had nowhere else to go, so they fetched up at The Wyld Hart because it had a jukebox that wasn’t full of R’n’B and Landfill Indie.
The landlord didn’t mind. The kids brought custom and even if they were ‘funny looking’, they were a lot less bother than their peers, who normally required scraping off the vomit-sodden streets every Saturday night.
Scott Battersby was normally around anyway, and no one messed with Scott Battersby.
Most people assumed Scott was the landlord even though this wasn’t the case. He did rent rooms up on the first floor and spent most of his time either behind the bar or manning the door, but he didn’t own the pub. Scott looked intimidating—bald and squat like someone had taken a seven-foot person and squashed them down to six—but he was a decent enough bloke in Andy’s opinion. Unless he was in a mosh pit. Then you stayed the fuck out of his way. Andy and the band had gone with him to a Megadeth gig. Scott had been quiet for most of the night, and then “Hangar 18” came on and a neat hole formed in the crowd around him as Scott started moshing. Scott was old school.
Scott read the board they’d chalked the band’s name on as they were setting up their gear.
“Perverts In Satan’s Service?” he said, doubtfully.
“Our new band name,” Stidolph said. “Cool, isn’t it.”
“You do know what it spells out?” Scott said.
Both Andy and Chris gave him the dejected ‘yeah, we know’ look.
Chuckling, Scott shook his head and walked away to tend the bar.
Confusion fluttered across Stidolph’s face. “What’s the problem? Is there something wrong with the band name?”
Andy put a hand on his face.
Stidolph wasn’t exactly the brightest spark, but he was still a decent frontman. The gig kicked off and straightaway he was snarling out lyrics and prowling the front of their makeshift stage as if possessed by the spirit of Ozzy himself. Of course, it would have looked more impressive had he been, you know, taller than five-foot-four.
They were halfway through a cover of Dimmu Borgir’s “Succubus in Rapture” when Andy saw the girl from his dream amongst the collection of onlookers that might loosely be termed the crowd. It was impossible to miss her. She wore a lurid red corset that accentuated her cleavage, an indecently short miniskirt and kinky red fishnet tights. Goth-wear with the kinkiness dialled up to eleven. Andy was so surprised to see her he fucked up and missed a few beats. It didn’t matter as Chris did the same. The only one who didn’t fuck up was Daniel, and that was because he was staring at the floor.
The girl watched them all the way through the set. She leant against a pillar in the centre of the room and looked so hot Andy wouldn’t have been surprised had the old oak timber caught fire. Both Stidolph and Chris were convinced they were the ones she had eyes for and showed off accordingly. Andy was a little unnerved. She looked exactly like the girl he’d dreamt about a couple of nights ago.
She wasn’t the only unexpected onlooker. As Andy was packing away his kit at the end of the gig he noticed Richard speaking with Scott over by the bar. No, more than speaking, laughing and joking as if the two men were old friends. Whatever could a boring fart like Richard have in common with an old-school thrash-head like Scott?
He didn’t get a chance to ponder it further. The hot girl, her eyes smouldering, was walking towards them. Both Stidolph and Chris stepped up to introduce themselves. She walked straight past them without a sideways glance. Her burning eyes were on him. They had been all night.
“Um . . . hi . . .” he started.
The girl shushed him with a finger on his lips. Her other hand grabbed a twist of the T-shirt covering his chest and formed a fist. Both Stidolph and Chris gaped at him in surprise as the girl shoved him in the direction of the toilets.
Yes, for the first time in rock history, the hot chick ignored the singer and lead guitarist and went straight for the drummer.
Hey, someone found the succubus tablet . . .
It'll end in tears. (But there'll be some hot sex along the way).
Here's the nice coming soon link on eXcessica's site. It'll also be out on Amazon, B & N, Smashwords and the other usual places. I'll put the links up on Friday. There will be a print version, but it will probably be a week or so later. Given that I've never managed to successfully synch an ebook release with a print release in my entire (short) writing history, this will not exactly come as a surprise.
A Succubus for Freedom and other tales of Obscene Orgies, out Friday!
Here's an extract from the title story, "A Succubus for Freedom", to celebrate:
* * * *
Andy thought the girl from his dream was just that—a dream. Then he saw her in the flesh a few nights later while they were playing a gig at The Wyld Hart.
The Wyld Hart was an odd sort of pub. It was too far off the beaten track to be absorbed into the bland franchise chain conglomerates and it didn’t have the history and character to be one of those defiant locals’ haunts. It wasn’t really the town’s rock pub either—that was The Drunken Choir out on Newcastle Street, where the bikers hung out—but it had been colonized by the metal and emo kids from the town’s schools and college. They had nowhere else to go, so they fetched up at The Wyld Hart because it had a jukebox that wasn’t full of R’n’B and Landfill Indie.
The landlord didn’t mind. The kids brought custom and even if they were ‘funny looking’, they were a lot less bother than their peers, who normally required scraping off the vomit-sodden streets every Saturday night.
Scott Battersby was normally around anyway, and no one messed with Scott Battersby.
Most people assumed Scott was the landlord even though this wasn’t the case. He did rent rooms up on the first floor and spent most of his time either behind the bar or manning the door, but he didn’t own the pub. Scott looked intimidating—bald and squat like someone had taken a seven-foot person and squashed them down to six—but he was a decent enough bloke in Andy’s opinion. Unless he was in a mosh pit. Then you stayed the fuck out of his way. Andy and the band had gone with him to a Megadeth gig. Scott had been quiet for most of the night, and then “Hangar 18” came on and a neat hole formed in the crowd around him as Scott started moshing. Scott was old school.
Scott read the board they’d chalked the band’s name on as they were setting up their gear.
“Perverts In Satan’s Service?” he said, doubtfully.
“Our new band name,” Stidolph said. “Cool, isn’t it.”
“You do know what it spells out?” Scott said.
Both Andy and Chris gave him the dejected ‘yeah, we know’ look.
Chuckling, Scott shook his head and walked away to tend the bar.
Confusion fluttered across Stidolph’s face. “What’s the problem? Is there something wrong with the band name?”
Andy put a hand on his face.
Stidolph wasn’t exactly the brightest spark, but he was still a decent frontman. The gig kicked off and straightaway he was snarling out lyrics and prowling the front of their makeshift stage as if possessed by the spirit of Ozzy himself. Of course, it would have looked more impressive had he been, you know, taller than five-foot-four.
They were halfway through a cover of Dimmu Borgir’s “Succubus in Rapture” when Andy saw the girl from his dream amongst the collection of onlookers that might loosely be termed the crowd. It was impossible to miss her. She wore a lurid red corset that accentuated her cleavage, an indecently short miniskirt and kinky red fishnet tights. Goth-wear with the kinkiness dialled up to eleven. Andy was so surprised to see her he fucked up and missed a few beats. It didn’t matter as Chris did the same. The only one who didn’t fuck up was Daniel, and that was because he was staring at the floor.
The girl watched them all the way through the set. She leant against a pillar in the centre of the room and looked so hot Andy wouldn’t have been surprised had the old oak timber caught fire. Both Stidolph and Chris were convinced they were the ones she had eyes for and showed off accordingly. Andy was a little unnerved. She looked exactly like the girl he’d dreamt about a couple of nights ago.
She wasn’t the only unexpected onlooker. As Andy was packing away his kit at the end of the gig he noticed Richard speaking with Scott over by the bar. No, more than speaking, laughing and joking as if the two men were old friends. Whatever could a boring fart like Richard have in common with an old-school thrash-head like Scott?
He didn’t get a chance to ponder it further. The hot girl, her eyes smouldering, was walking towards them. Both Stidolph and Chris stepped up to introduce themselves. She walked straight past them without a sideways glance. Her burning eyes were on him. They had been all night.
“Um . . . hi . . .” he started.
The girl shushed him with a finger on his lips. Her other hand grabbed a twist of the T-shirt covering his chest and formed a fist. Both Stidolph and Chris gaped at him in surprise as the girl shoved him in the direction of the toilets.
Yes, for the first time in rock history, the hot chick ignored the singer and lead guitarist and went straight for the drummer.
* * * *
Hey, someone found the succubus tablet . . .
It'll end in tears. (But there'll be some hot sex along the way).
Here's the nice coming soon link on eXcessica's site. It'll also be out on Amazon, B & N, Smashwords and the other usual places. I'll put the links up on Friday. There will be a print version, but it will probably be a week or so later. Given that I've never managed to successfully synch an ebook release with a print release in my entire (short) writing history, this will not exactly come as a surprise.
A Succubus for Freedom and other tales of Obscene Orgies, out Friday!
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
A Succubus for Freedom: Excerpt 2
Okay, so the 3rd was a smidgeon optimistic. The 17th is looking more likely now. Sorry about that.
By way of an apology here's another excerpt. This is from "Riding the Medusa", one of two previously unseen H-space stories in the collection.
When Gossow had first heard about Riding the Medusa he’d thought the guys were yanking his chain.
“So you let her wrap her tentacles around you and reel you right up . . . and then you fuck her . . . ?”
Gossow might look like a hick and speak like a hick, but that didn’t mean he had nothing but straw between his ears. He recognised a game of wind-up-the-new-guy when he saw it.
Of course this was early on, before he’d heard all the other rumours. Turned out H-space was a really fucked-up place, with the emphasis on fuck. The eggheads had managed to open up a doorway to super-porno-rapo world.
Erlandsson’s theory was they hadn’t left Earth at all. He reckoned their brains had been fried by some kind of failed military experiment. Here was some kind of hallucination or dream; they were really drooling vegetables back on Earth.
He could be a morose little fucker sometimes.
Gossow had stabbed him in the thigh with his knife. Not hard, just a little prick. See. No dream.
“Yeah. You let one catch you and pull you right up to her. You don’t have to do anything. Just lie back and she’ll do the rest.”
Gossow wasn’t convinced.
“It’s a jellyfish. Won’t it be cold and squishy?”
“No man. It’s fucking awesome. It’s like fucking an ass and pussy and getting a blowjob all at the same time.”
And that was how Gossow came to be standing on a rock at dawn, as naked as the day he was born, stubby erection between his legs, with the great black expanse of Lake Latex stretching out before him. He trembled with excitement as he saw a jellyfish girl glide down out of the roiling clouds towards him.
Come and get me, babe.
“You’re fucking crazy,” Erlandsson hissed from his hiding place in the rocks.
Gossow motioned for him to be quiet.
Erlandsson was there as his wingman. A man going off to Ride the Medusa needed to have a good wingman, if he wanted to live. As good as sex with a jellyfish girl was supposed to be, it would kill a man if it went on for too long.
Initially Gossow was sceptical on that point. He didn’t know much biology, had spent those lessons drawing smiley-faced sperm in the textbooks, but he was fairly sure it was physically impossible for a man to come himself to death.
That was until he was part of the team that had found Private Wiberg.
They reckoned Private Wiberg had gotten a little too excited after hearing the stories and gone off to try Riding the Medusa without first finding a wingman. Private Wiberg had been eighteen. The body they’d found looked like it belonged to an eighty-year-old.
Riding the Medusa needed a wingman. Their job was to wait until the man had had his fun and then put a bullet through the balloon-like bell. Then pfft, the man would float gently back to earth as the balloon deflated. Technically the men had strict orders to avoid the jellyfish girls, but as the girls’ bodies always evaporated to nothingness after hitting the ground, no one would ever find out. As long as a man brought along a wingman, Riding the Medusa was easily the best recreational activity to be found at FOB Rigg.
You just know it's all going to go horribly wrong . . . ;)
I'm still waiting on eXcessica for an ISBN number. I'll post the coming soon link as soon as it's ready and hopefully A Succubus for Freedom will hit the amazon store and everywhere else on the 17th August.
By way of an apology here's another excerpt. This is from "Riding the Medusa", one of two previously unseen H-space stories in the collection.
* * * *
When Gossow had first heard about Riding the Medusa he’d thought the guys were yanking his chain.
“So you let her wrap her tentacles around you and reel you right up . . . and then you fuck her . . . ?”
Gossow might look like a hick and speak like a hick, but that didn’t mean he had nothing but straw between his ears. He recognised a game of wind-up-the-new-guy when he saw it.
Of course this was early on, before he’d heard all the other rumours. Turned out H-space was a really fucked-up place, with the emphasis on fuck. The eggheads had managed to open up a doorway to super-porno-rapo world.
Erlandsson’s theory was they hadn’t left Earth at all. He reckoned their brains had been fried by some kind of failed military experiment. Here was some kind of hallucination or dream; they were really drooling vegetables back on Earth.
He could be a morose little fucker sometimes.
Gossow had stabbed him in the thigh with his knife. Not hard, just a little prick. See. No dream.
“Yeah. You let one catch you and pull you right up to her. You don’t have to do anything. Just lie back and she’ll do the rest.”
Gossow wasn’t convinced.
“It’s a jellyfish. Won’t it be cold and squishy?”
“No man. It’s fucking awesome. It’s like fucking an ass and pussy and getting a blowjob all at the same time.”
* * * *
And that was how Gossow came to be standing on a rock at dawn, as naked as the day he was born, stubby erection between his legs, with the great black expanse of Lake Latex stretching out before him. He trembled with excitement as he saw a jellyfish girl glide down out of the roiling clouds towards him.
Come and get me, babe.
“You’re fucking crazy,” Erlandsson hissed from his hiding place in the rocks.
Gossow motioned for him to be quiet.
Erlandsson was there as his wingman. A man going off to Ride the Medusa needed to have a good wingman, if he wanted to live. As good as sex with a jellyfish girl was supposed to be, it would kill a man if it went on for too long.
Initially Gossow was sceptical on that point. He didn’t know much biology, had spent those lessons drawing smiley-faced sperm in the textbooks, but he was fairly sure it was physically impossible for a man to come himself to death.
That was until he was part of the team that had found Private Wiberg.
They reckoned Private Wiberg had gotten a little too excited after hearing the stories and gone off to try Riding the Medusa without first finding a wingman. Private Wiberg had been eighteen. The body they’d found looked like it belonged to an eighty-year-old.
Riding the Medusa needed a wingman. Their job was to wait until the man had had his fun and then put a bullet through the balloon-like bell. Then pfft, the man would float gently back to earth as the balloon deflated. Technically the men had strict orders to avoid the jellyfish girls, but as the girls’ bodies always evaporated to nothingness after hitting the ground, no one would ever find out. As long as a man brought along a wingman, Riding the Medusa was easily the best recreational activity to be found at FOB Rigg.
* * * *
You just know it's all going to go horribly wrong . . . ;)
I'm still waiting on eXcessica for an ISBN number. I'll post the coming soon link as soon as it's ready and hopefully A Succubus for Freedom will hit the amazon store and everywhere else on the 17th August.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
A Succubus for Freedom: We have a cover!
Tentatively, I also have a date, which is next Friday (August 3rd). I'm just waiting for confirmation on that. It will either be that or the 17th. These vagaries happen when writers write too slowly and miss their scheduled slots. :)
I'll post a more detailed follow-up including the full story list as soon as I have confirmation.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
A Succubus for Freedom: Excerpt I
It's a little (lot!) overdue, but I'm down to the final editing and formatting for my 4th collection of short stories, A Succubus for Freedom and other tales of Obscene Orgies. There will be thirteen stories in total, with six of them being brand new, never-before-seen. Here’s an excerpt from one, “Exile”, to whet the appetite.
I don’t know who They are, but I know They exist. They left me with that even as They gouged out everything else. They left me with the knowledge this is my punishment, but not what I’m being punished for.
They left me a reminder of what I’ve lost.
If I close my eyes I can see it. Somewhere else. A world of fire and passion. It’s there in my memories, a far-off tunnel I walk down until I emerge into a maelstrom of flames and screams. Countless voices soar and swoop in a crescendo of pain and fear. An orchestra of agony, playing the most sublime symphony of suffering, its instruments countless tortured souls.
It is beautiful.
Pure.
Leaping flames twist and sway across the midnight-black sky. They dance like exotic birds with long plumes of brilliant yellow, red and orange. Their partners for the dance are souls pinned on long blackened iron spikes. Ten feet high the flames reach, caressing feet, ankles, hands, sexes with long flickering tongues. The flames’ lascivious touch scorches hair, chars skin and melts fat. There are pauses in the dance, when the flames die down to flickering red embers. It’s a respite to allow fingers and toes to regrow, molten fat to solidify back into tissue, and skin to creep back over scorched muscle.
The souls scream loudest then.
Looming beyond the fires are the great iron windmills. Powered by great sails of living human skin, black cogs and gears turn ceaselessly, a constant metronome to the unending orchestra of agony. There are people caught in the gears. Caught between the teeth of unyielding metal, their bodies stretch and twist but never tear. The cogs turn and turn, contorting individuals into stretched tubes of skin and meat with a core of splintered bone.
Nothing truly lives here, so death has no dominion. There is only sensation.
Eternal sensation.
I walk down a path paved in mewling babies, their bodies compacted into living blocks. They stare up at me with eyes like glossy marbles and cry through tiny mouths lined with teeth as white as precious pearls. Their wails buoy me up like a feather in a breeze. Up ahead is the palace where she awaits me.
I enter her chambers and walk through into a room where she sits on a throne upholstered in human skin. The still-living heads of the skins’ owners are positioned at the end of each armrest. They chatter and gibber nonsensically to each other while she ruffles a hand through each head’s hair.
She. My vision of perfection. My avatar of passion.
My succubus.
I drink in the vision of her sitting on the throne, one lithe leg crossed over the other, like a starving vampire in the presence of a virginal beauty.
No virgin is my succubus. No trace of innocence clouds her eyes. They burn with lust and passion, fires to turn all her human prey into moths eager to cast their pitiful mortal forms into the burning sun of her desire. I feel that black hole attraction and she mine.
More than simple hunger burns in her eyes as she uncrosses her legs and stands up on obsidian black hooves. A moist tongue dabs around exquisite full lips. I take her hand and together we exit her throne chamber.
Her bed is covered in the still-living skins of a hundred virgin women. Their owners sigh and moan, and the bed undulates as they thrust their sexes at me, begging me to fill them with my prick. I ignore them. Only one sex interests me.
I throw my succubus onto the shifting bed and get on top of her. There is no need for delay or patient build-up. Our passion is a conflagration needing no spark to ignite. The close presence of our bodies is enough. Her legs wrap around me, hooves crossing behind my back as I drive my prick into her boiling sex.
A Succubus for Freedom, coming soon. I’ll the post the exact details here as soon as I have them.
* * * *
I don’t know who They are, but I know They exist. They left me with that even as They gouged out everything else. They left me with the knowledge this is my punishment, but not what I’m being punished for.
They left me a reminder of what I’ve lost.
If I close my eyes I can see it. Somewhere else. A world of fire and passion. It’s there in my memories, a far-off tunnel I walk down until I emerge into a maelstrom of flames and screams. Countless voices soar and swoop in a crescendo of pain and fear. An orchestra of agony, playing the most sublime symphony of suffering, its instruments countless tortured souls.
It is beautiful.
Pure.
Leaping flames twist and sway across the midnight-black sky. They dance like exotic birds with long plumes of brilliant yellow, red and orange. Their partners for the dance are souls pinned on long blackened iron spikes. Ten feet high the flames reach, caressing feet, ankles, hands, sexes with long flickering tongues. The flames’ lascivious touch scorches hair, chars skin and melts fat. There are pauses in the dance, when the flames die down to flickering red embers. It’s a respite to allow fingers and toes to regrow, molten fat to solidify back into tissue, and skin to creep back over scorched muscle.
The souls scream loudest then.
Looming beyond the fires are the great iron windmills. Powered by great sails of living human skin, black cogs and gears turn ceaselessly, a constant metronome to the unending orchestra of agony. There are people caught in the gears. Caught between the teeth of unyielding metal, their bodies stretch and twist but never tear. The cogs turn and turn, contorting individuals into stretched tubes of skin and meat with a core of splintered bone.
Nothing truly lives here, so death has no dominion. There is only sensation.
Eternal sensation.
I walk down a path paved in mewling babies, their bodies compacted into living blocks. They stare up at me with eyes like glossy marbles and cry through tiny mouths lined with teeth as white as precious pearls. Their wails buoy me up like a feather in a breeze. Up ahead is the palace where she awaits me.
I enter her chambers and walk through into a room where she sits on a throne upholstered in human skin. The still-living heads of the skins’ owners are positioned at the end of each armrest. They chatter and gibber nonsensically to each other while she ruffles a hand through each head’s hair.
She. My vision of perfection. My avatar of passion.
My succubus.
I drink in the vision of her sitting on the throne, one lithe leg crossed over the other, like a starving vampire in the presence of a virginal beauty.
No virgin is my succubus. No trace of innocence clouds her eyes. They burn with lust and passion, fires to turn all her human prey into moths eager to cast their pitiful mortal forms into the burning sun of her desire. I feel that black hole attraction and she mine.
More than simple hunger burns in her eyes as she uncrosses her legs and stands up on obsidian black hooves. A moist tongue dabs around exquisite full lips. I take her hand and together we exit her throne chamber.
Her bed is covered in the still-living skins of a hundred virgin women. Their owners sigh and moan, and the bed undulates as they thrust their sexes at me, begging me to fill them with my prick. I ignore them. Only one sex interests me.
I throw my succubus onto the shifting bed and get on top of her. There is no need for delay or patient build-up. Our passion is a conflagration needing no spark to ignite. The close presence of our bodies is enough. Her legs wrap around me, hooves crossing behind my back as I drive my prick into her boiling sex.
* * * *
A Succubus for Freedom, coming soon. I’ll the post the exact details here as soon as I have them.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Even more Monster Girl filth from dlsite.com
This summary is not available. Please
click here to view the post.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Recently, I Have Been Reading . . . Conan!
Conan, lots and lots of Conan . . .
Robert E. Howard’s Conan the Barbarian is one of those characters where you think you know who they are, but then you realise you only know the caricature of who they are. I read the L. Sprague de Camp-padded out paperbacks when I was a young lad because they were cheap and had lurid covers with warriors fending off snakes the size of double-decker buses. I came back to Conan because I had an idea for a story where the classic muscle-bound cliché of a barbarian is easily outwitted by one of my succubi.
However, Howard’s Conan is a completely different beast. Multi-lingual, well-travelled, whip-smart, adept tactician; he’s a lot more than a dumb beast with a big sword. Despite this, Conan still manages to be in significant danger in most of his stories. Howard’s Hyborian world is a dark and dangerous place, filled with hostile tribes, dark magic and the occasional Lovecraftian abomination. While Conan is freakish by normal human standards, he needs to be to survive in that world, and often only does so by the skin of his teeth.
The books I remember were padded out into paperback novels by de Camp. Howard’s original versions were stories that appeared within the pages of Weird Tales. With the exception of The Hour of the Dragon (which is still on my to-read list), the stories are all novella length. Despite the brevity, Howard managed to pack a lot of story in each tale. Given the doorstop-size of most fantasy epics nowadays, it’s astonishing to think one of the grandfathers of the genre managed to build his lushly detailed world within the slimline pages of magazines. And Howard’s world broods. Each paragraph sweats atmosphere and menace.
I believe most of Howard’s stories are out of copyright now (tragically, he committed suicide at the young age of 30). I accessed them through Project Gutenberg Australia here. Well worth a read to appreciate just how good the early pulp masters were.
As for my own muscle-bound expy, well you can see how they get on in my forthcoming collection, A Succubus for Freedom.
Let’s just say they aren’t the real Conan . . .
Robert E. Howard’s Conan the Barbarian is one of those characters where you think you know who they are, but then you realise you only know the caricature of who they are. I read the L. Sprague de Camp-padded out paperbacks when I was a young lad because they were cheap and had lurid covers with warriors fending off snakes the size of double-decker buses. I came back to Conan because I had an idea for a story where the classic muscle-bound cliché of a barbarian is easily outwitted by one of my succubi.
However, Howard’s Conan is a completely different beast. Multi-lingual, well-travelled, whip-smart, adept tactician; he’s a lot more than a dumb beast with a big sword. Despite this, Conan still manages to be in significant danger in most of his stories. Howard’s Hyborian world is a dark and dangerous place, filled with hostile tribes, dark magic and the occasional Lovecraftian abomination. While Conan is freakish by normal human standards, he needs to be to survive in that world, and often only does so by the skin of his teeth.
The books I remember were padded out into paperback novels by de Camp. Howard’s original versions were stories that appeared within the pages of Weird Tales. With the exception of The Hour of the Dragon (which is still on my to-read list), the stories are all novella length. Despite the brevity, Howard managed to pack a lot of story in each tale. Given the doorstop-size of most fantasy epics nowadays, it’s astonishing to think one of the grandfathers of the genre managed to build his lushly detailed world within the slimline pages of magazines. And Howard’s world broods. Each paragraph sweats atmosphere and menace.
I believe most of Howard’s stories are out of copyright now (tragically, he committed suicide at the young age of 30). I accessed them through Project Gutenberg Australia here. Well worth a read to appreciate just how good the early pulp masters were.
As for my own muscle-bound expy, well you can see how they get on in my forthcoming collection, A Succubus for Freedom.
Let’s just say they aren’t the real Conan . . .
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Literotica's Contest Scoring Explained
A question from Ed that makes better sense to answer as a short blog post (and to assuage my guilt over leaving it there for three days without replying):
"AS an author, would you say generally its better to give a story a 5 rating or none at all on literotica or just for contests?"
For Lit's contests, sad to say, no vote is indeed better than anything other than a 5 for the majority of authors. The reason is how the scoring works. For an entrant to be eligible it must pick up at least twenty-five valid votes. Once a story gets over that threshold, the score is then the average of all votes. This can throw up the counter-intuitive scenario where a story with twenty-five perfect 5 votes will place higher than a story with ninety-nine 5 votes and one 4 vote. It's not Literotica's fault. Whatever they run with is going to be less than perfect, because that's how it is when judging an activity as subjective as writing short stories.
So, while a 4 is technically a "good" vote, because the winning entries usually end up with final average scores of around 4.80+, it's easy to see it doesn't take too many "good" 4 votes to completely torpedo a story's chances of winning. Unless the author is struggling to reach the twenty-five vote threshold, they really want 5's or nothing. Knowing this, the savvy authors tend to enter very long stories with slow build-ups, warm and fuzzy endings, and obtuse titles so that the more disinterested readers have already backclicked long before they even get to a rating button.
(Now what kind of cynical, soulless monster of an author would even think of engaging in such shameless skullduggery. *whistle* Iron Girders and Steel Springs *whistle*)
At the end of the day it's best to treat the contests as a bit of fun and not too seriously. If you think a story only deserves a 4 (or a 3 or . . . ulp . . . less), give it a 4. Ultimately all literary contests are nonsense. Peel the layers back and all that lies at the heart is flawed subjective opinion.
Good for a giggle, though.
"AS an author, would you say generally its better to give a story a 5 rating or none at all on literotica or just for contests?"
For Lit's contests, sad to say, no vote is indeed better than anything other than a 5 for the majority of authors. The reason is how the scoring works. For an entrant to be eligible it must pick up at least twenty-five valid votes. Once a story gets over that threshold, the score is then the average of all votes. This can throw up the counter-intuitive scenario where a story with twenty-five perfect 5 votes will place higher than a story with ninety-nine 5 votes and one 4 vote. It's not Literotica's fault. Whatever they run with is going to be less than perfect, because that's how it is when judging an activity as subjective as writing short stories.
So, while a 4 is technically a "good" vote, because the winning entries usually end up with final average scores of around 4.80+, it's easy to see it doesn't take too many "good" 4 votes to completely torpedo a story's chances of winning. Unless the author is struggling to reach the twenty-five vote threshold, they really want 5's or nothing. Knowing this, the savvy authors tend to enter very long stories with slow build-ups, warm and fuzzy endings, and obtuse titles so that the more disinterested readers have already backclicked long before they even get to a rating button.
(Now what kind of cynical, soulless monster of an author would even think of engaging in such shameless skullduggery. *whistle* Iron Girders and Steel Springs *whistle*)
At the end of the day it's best to treat the contests as a bit of fun and not too seriously. If you think a story only deserves a 4 (or a 3 or . . . ulp . . . less), give it a 4. Ultimately all literary contests are nonsense. Peel the layers back and all that lies at the heart is flawed subjective opinion.
Good for a giggle, though.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
New story for Literotica's 2012 Nude Day contest
At some point soon I'll be starting previews for the my next collection, A Succubus for Freedom. Sadly there's the small matter of finishing the last two stories first so I can edit and upload the manuscript. They're putting up a bit of a fight. More news on that when I have an exact publication date.
In the meantime here's a brand new story I've been sitting on until Literotica's Nude Day short story competition opened up:
Iron Girders and Steel Springs
It's a monster at 11K words and is also a bit of a change of pace for me. Bizarrely, given how many horror stories I've written, this is the first time I've tackled this particular horror trope. Actually, if you don't count "Vampiric Boobies" as a vampire story, this is the first time I've tackled any of the big three supernatural horror tropes.
Normally I enter nasty horror stories into Literotica's contests for the amusement value. This time I thought I'd try and put a serious entrant in for a change. Hence the length, slow build-up and additional focus on characterisation (these are common features of most winning entries).
If you like it, and I hope you do, please show your appreciation by rating the story a '5' at the end (given how Literotica contests work, anything else is worse than not voting at all). If you don't like it, sorry and don't worry, we'll be back to the usual succubus-related mayhem in the forthcoming collection.
In the meantime here's a brand new story I've been sitting on until Literotica's Nude Day short story competition opened up:
Iron Girders and Steel Springs
It's a monster at 11K words and is also a bit of a change of pace for me. Bizarrely, given how many horror stories I've written, this is the first time I've tackled this particular horror trope. Actually, if you don't count "Vampiric Boobies" as a vampire story, this is the first time I've tackled any of the big three supernatural horror tropes.
Normally I enter nasty horror stories into Literotica's contests for the amusement value. This time I thought I'd try and put a serious entrant in for a change. Hence the length, slow build-up and additional focus on characterisation (these are common features of most winning entries).
If you like it, and I hope you do, please show your appreciation by rating the story a '5' at the end (given how Literotica contests work, anything else is worse than not voting at all). If you don't like it, sorry and don't worry, we'll be back to the usual succubus-related mayhem in the forthcoming collection.
Saturday, June 09, 2012
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-4 Puff-Puff Setback
Time for the conclusion.
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-4 Puff-Puff Setback
Moréhâgg placed a long finger at the corner of her full lips and gave him a coquettish smile.
“The next one will take me to zero health,” Jackson said.
He didn’t know what would happen then. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.
Moréhâgg shifted position in his lap. Her labia tightened around the root of his cock, preparing for the final suck that would take Jackson right to the Game Over screen.
“Please.”
Moréhâgg paused. She smiled down at Jackson.
“The fight has gone long enough. My Coup de Grâce move is ready.”
Coup de Grâce? Monsters had those as well?
“It’s my super special move. You’ll really like it.”
Moréhâgg started to move against him. Her hips rocked against him with light bounces that gradually increased in force and frequency. Her heavy breasts swayed as she bobbed up and down. She was really fucking him now. He felt the cloying suction of her pussy every time she lifted her hips. The cushioned cuff of her labia bulged out every time her body slapped down against him.
Jackson felt a trembling tension jangle through his legs and buttocks. A pleasant wriggling sensation squirmed in his balls. This was fucking crazy. He was about to come buckets inside a boss of a stupid JRPG.
And it was going to—
(kill?)
—Game Over him.
He couldn’t do anything. He was helpless and about to receive her ultimate attack, whatever that was.
“Can’t we talk it over?” Jackson said. “I have gold…” he added hopefully.
Moréhâgg kept her upper body still as her hips smoothly bounced up and down on Jackson. She stared straight ahead and moved her arms and hands in front of her breasts in sinuous motions that looked like some kind of weird yoga move.
“Ultimate Succu-Fuck Drain,” she said.
Her hands moved in a circle. A glowing pentagram spun out from each palm. They expanded and tipped over into horizontal circles wide enough to contain both Moréhâgg’s and Jackson’s bodies. One, its outline ghostly, sank down through Jackson until it was lying flat on the floor. The other rose above Moréhâgg until it became a floating counterpart to the circle on the floor.
This looked bad. Real bad.
“Um…Um…” Jackson started. He gave the edges of the circle he was lying within a nervous glance.
Moréhâgg gave an orgiastic moan. The circles flared with purple-black light, forming a shining column that enclosed both of them. The stone floor suddenly vanished and Jackson was falling into some kind of purple-black matter that gave beneath him like spongy-soft cushions. The impact jammed his cock deeper up inside Moréhâgg. The squishy walls of her pussy clenched even more tightly around him. He felt his glans pushing up against some kind of soft fleshy sphincter. It gave with a pop and so did Jackson. He shuddered as a warm gush of pleasure flooded out of his trembling body.
Now he really was coming buckets.
Red numbers appeared above his head and whirled like slots on speed. One hundred…one thousand…
Moréhâgg’s eyes were closed. She looked serene as she straddled him. Her chest quivered and throbbed in time to the pulsing suction tugging on Jackson’s cock. He felt it, a soft orifice that wrapped around the swollen head of his erection and sucked spurt after spurt out of his quivering member.
…ten thousand…
Moréhâgg sighed in ecstasy and squeezed her breasts. Jackson writhed beneath her, his body no longer under his control as she emptied his balls with great lusty swallows.
…one million…
Emptied him.
Jackson passed out when the numbers hit forty-four million.
* * * *
“Bless you, child. The Almighty watches over you.”
Jackson woke up in a church with a priest standing over him.
So that’s what happened when his health hit zero. He went back to the last save point. Phew. That wasn’t so bad. Maybe it was worth ‘losing’ that fight a few more times before proceeding, he thought with a grin.
Huh, what was he doing back in his shitty starting clothes? And—
His gold! They’d taken all his money and equipment!
“Motherfucking cunt-faced bitch!”
The priest placidly ignored his outburst.
That wasn’t all. Something didn’t feel right.
“Hey dickwad, how much XP until the next level?” he asked the priest.
“You require fifteen experience points to reach level two.”
“Level two! I was level thirteen!”
“It appears you were hit by a very powerful level-draining attack,” the priest said.
Jackson wasn’t listening. He sat with his head in hands. Thirteen levels gone, sucked out of him. All the grinding he’d done over the last week, wasted.
Level one.
“Fuck.”
Oh well, nothing for it. It was back to the starting area forest. He had a lot of those annoying blue bouncing slime-things to kill.
I failed to kill my protagonist. How negligent of me. Oh well, I guess we'll hear more of Jackson's trials and tribulations at some point in the future.
For those that haven't guessed it already, the JRPG I'm referencing (hopefully obliquely enough to not have my ass sued to oblivion) is the Dragon Quest series, in this case IX. The series has a running innuendo joke about Puff-Puff. It's harmless innuendo exploited mercilessly by the corrupted cesspool I have for an imagination. The actual game is fun and perfectly safe for children.
Jackson will return in "Exploding Kiwis in the Nether Regions".
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-4 Puff-Puff Setback
Moréhâgg placed a long finger at the corner of her full lips and gave him a coquettish smile.
“The next one will take me to zero health,” Jackson said.
He didn’t know what would happen then. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.
Moréhâgg shifted position in his lap. Her labia tightened around the root of his cock, preparing for the final suck that would take Jackson right to the Game Over screen.
“Please.”
Moréhâgg paused. She smiled down at Jackson.
“The fight has gone long enough. My Coup de Grâce move is ready.”
Coup de Grâce? Monsters had those as well?
“It’s my super special move. You’ll really like it.”
Moréhâgg started to move against him. Her hips rocked against him with light bounces that gradually increased in force and frequency. Her heavy breasts swayed as she bobbed up and down. She was really fucking him now. He felt the cloying suction of her pussy every time she lifted her hips. The cushioned cuff of her labia bulged out every time her body slapped down against him.
Jackson felt a trembling tension jangle through his legs and buttocks. A pleasant wriggling sensation squirmed in his balls. This was fucking crazy. He was about to come buckets inside a boss of a stupid JRPG.
And it was going to—
(kill?)
—Game Over him.
He couldn’t do anything. He was helpless and about to receive her ultimate attack, whatever that was.
“Can’t we talk it over?” Jackson said. “I have gold…” he added hopefully.
Moréhâgg kept her upper body still as her hips smoothly bounced up and down on Jackson. She stared straight ahead and moved her arms and hands in front of her breasts in sinuous motions that looked like some kind of weird yoga move.
“Ultimate Succu-Fuck Drain,” she said.
Her hands moved in a circle. A glowing pentagram spun out from each palm. They expanded and tipped over into horizontal circles wide enough to contain both Moréhâgg’s and Jackson’s bodies. One, its outline ghostly, sank down through Jackson until it was lying flat on the floor. The other rose above Moréhâgg until it became a floating counterpart to the circle on the floor.
This looked bad. Real bad.
“Um…Um…” Jackson started. He gave the edges of the circle he was lying within a nervous glance.
Moréhâgg gave an orgiastic moan. The circles flared with purple-black light, forming a shining column that enclosed both of them. The stone floor suddenly vanished and Jackson was falling into some kind of purple-black matter that gave beneath him like spongy-soft cushions. The impact jammed his cock deeper up inside Moréhâgg. The squishy walls of her pussy clenched even more tightly around him. He felt his glans pushing up against some kind of soft fleshy sphincter. It gave with a pop and so did Jackson. He shuddered as a warm gush of pleasure flooded out of his trembling body.
Now he really was coming buckets.
Red numbers appeared above his head and whirled like slots on speed. One hundred…one thousand…
Moréhâgg’s eyes were closed. She looked serene as she straddled him. Her chest quivered and throbbed in time to the pulsing suction tugging on Jackson’s cock. He felt it, a soft orifice that wrapped around the swollen head of his erection and sucked spurt after spurt out of his quivering member.
…ten thousand…
Moréhâgg sighed in ecstasy and squeezed her breasts. Jackson writhed beneath her, his body no longer under his control as she emptied his balls with great lusty swallows.
…one million…
Emptied him.
Jackson passed out when the numbers hit forty-four million.
* * * *
“Bless you, child. The Almighty watches over you.”
Jackson woke up in a church with a priest standing over him.
So that’s what happened when his health hit zero. He went back to the last save point. Phew. That wasn’t so bad. Maybe it was worth ‘losing’ that fight a few more times before proceeding, he thought with a grin.
Huh, what was he doing back in his shitty starting clothes? And—
His gold! They’d taken all his money and equipment!
“Motherfucking cunt-faced bitch!”
The priest placidly ignored his outburst.
That wasn’t all. Something didn’t feel right.
“Hey dickwad, how much XP until the next level?” he asked the priest.
“You require fifteen experience points to reach level two.”
“Level two! I was level thirteen!”
“It appears you were hit by a very powerful level-draining attack,” the priest said.
Jackson wasn’t listening. He sat with his head in hands. Thirteen levels gone, sucked out of him. All the grinding he’d done over the last week, wasted.
Level one.
“Fuck.”
Oh well, nothing for it. It was back to the starting area forest. He had a lot of those annoying blue bouncing slime-things to kill.
I failed to kill my protagonist. How negligent of me. Oh well, I guess we'll hear more of Jackson's trials and tribulations at some point in the future.
For those that haven't guessed it already, the JRPG I'm referencing (hopefully obliquely enough to not have my ass sued to oblivion) is the Dragon Quest series, in this case IX. The series has a running innuendo joke about Puff-Puff. It's harmless innuendo exploited mercilessly by the corrupted cesspool I have for an imagination. The actual game is fun and perfectly safe for children.
Jackson will return in "Exploding Kiwis in the Nether Regions".
Saturday, June 02, 2012
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-3 Puff-Puff Setback
Part 3 and Moréhâgg's special moves are a little on the XXX-rated side. You have been warned...
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-3 Puff-Puff Setback
“You seem a very angry young adventurer. It’s time to use one of my special attacks. I think you’ll like it.” Her red eyes twinkled as she smiled at him. “How about it? Would you like to see my Puff-Puff attack?”
Jackson shook his head. Puff-Puff. Really. Those wacky Japanese, always trying to get crap past the radar.
“Isn’t that some lame euphemism for rubbing your titties in my face.”
Moréhâgg smiled. She placed her hands on either side of her swollen breasts and squeezed them together. Jackson almost expected to hear some kind of stupid boing sound effect.
“Why don’t you close your eyes, relax and enjoy it,” Moréhâgg said with a voice like crushed velvet.
“Yeah right,” Jackson said. “And when I open them you’ll be rubbing two of those stupid slime creatures against the side of my head. Or it will be two sheep rubbing their asses against me. Don’t bother trying to tease me. I know this is an E10 game. There’s no way you’re getting your tits out.”
Moréhâgg pounced, knocking Jackson on his back and pinning him to the floor. She straddled his chest and unhooked the catch holding her latex corset-thing together. Her breasts—big, pink and extremely bouncy—bobbed free.
They were…impressive.
“You were right with the first guess,” Moréhâgg said with a lascivious smile. She caught her swaying mammaries and cupped them in her hands.
Jackson looked up at the swaying mounds of creamy-pink flesh. He clearly saw the perky little pink points of her nipples. What the fuck was going on here? This didn’t happen in battles. They all followed the same ridiculous yet inviolable laws.
Moréhâgg’s red eyes twinkled. Her moist lips pouted as if for a kiss. “Puff-Puff,” she breathed.
She fell forwards, burying his head in the warm space between her large and extremely soft boobs. Jackson lay back, unable do anything as she covered his face with her bosom. She twisted her upper body from side to side and Jackson felt the soft mass of her heavy breasts paff his head one way and then the other.
Giggling, Moréhâgg pressed down harder. Her arms went around the back of his head and she scooped him up into the smothering embrace of her cleavage. Jackson’s head, wedged up between her soft boobs, moved from side to side as she twisted her body. Her skin felt like the smoothest silk as it rubbed against his cheeks. His nose and mouth were pressed so tightly into her chest it was hard to breathe.
Moréhâgg had no intention of suffocating him just yet. She let his head fall away enough to allow him to take a breath. He inhaled air saturated with the heady musk of her body. Laughing, she paffed his head with her swinging breasts. Then she was pressing down again and squeezing her tits together around his face.
“What do you think, adventurer? Nice aren’t they. Have you ever felt a pair as warm and as soft as this?”
Jackson hadn’t, although he couldn’t admit that. His mouth was filled with her overflowing chest. She let him take another hasty breath and then started squeezing her boobs against the sides of his face again, squeezing them like they were super-soft rubber balls.
Was this an actual attack? What kind of fucked up game was this?
Actually, it felt pretty sweet.
At least up until the point when Moréhâgg didn’t lift up to allow him to take a breath. Instead she responded to his squirming struggles by pressing her chest down even harder, smothering him as effectively as if she’d placed a pillow over his face.
“I need you nice and pliant for my other moves,” Moréhâgg said.
Jackson wriggled as he tried, unsuccessfully, to squirm out from under her. His lungs were aching.
“And now my other Puff-Puff attack.”
She lifted her smothering bosom. Her breasts shivered and two thick purple clouds of perfume puffed out of her nipples…
…right as Jackson sucked in a much-needed lungful of air.
Ohhh…
The fumes rushed up to his brain and sent it sailing away on fluffy, perfumed clouds. He lay back on the floor and felt all his muscles relax as the tension drained from his body. Well, not all of it. Down between his legs he felt a great deal of tension straining against his underwear.
“Time to make you a little more comfortable,” Moréhâgg said. “It’s far too hot in here to be wearing all this leather armor.”
She went straight to his groin, undid the buckle and pulled down his leather leggings. Jackson didn’t resist. He thought he might be hallucinating as there were little dancing pink hearts floating in front of his vision. Moréhâgg pulled away his cotton underwear and his cock bobbed up like a hypnotized snake.
“Ooh, nice,” Moréhâgg said. She ran a moist tongue around her glossy red lips.
The hearts went away. Jackson noticed the comfortable paralysis that had kept him still had ended. He could move. He tightened his grip on his sword.
The succubus noticed too.
“Humph. Lucky roll,” she pouted. “The entrancement should have lasted for at least another two turns.”
Rolls? Turns? What was she?
Jackson started to raise his sword.
Moréhâgg poked his wrist with a single finger. “Block.”
Jackson’s hand fell back onto the floor.
Moréhâgg shifted position. The pink mountainous peaks of her naked breasts loomed over Jackson’s face.
“Double Puff-Puff.”
Her nipples were already expelling more clouds of perfume as she dropped down and mashed Jackson’s face up between the soft pillows of her breasts. Mewling in pleasure, she rubbed them against his face. Jackson’s vision vanished beneath jiggling pink flesh. Moréhâgg made a lot of indecent noises as she smothered him with her tits. Three times she pressed down hard enough to cut off his air, and three times she allowed him breaths tainted with her cloying, magical perfume.
At the end of it ‘Jackson is unable to move’ was scrolling through his head like a child’s first attempt at a goto program. A silly grin was plastered on his lips and his cock was throbbing hard enough to burst.
“Better,” Moréhâgg said. “That should keep you still for a while.”
Jackson couldn’t move, but other than that his thoughts were relatively clear…apart from the distraction provided by his raging hard-on. Moréhâgg squatted right above it. Her vagina was completely exposed, naked and not even pixelated. Jackson’s cock wasn’t pixelated either.
This had gone way beyond lame innuendo. She was really going to fuck him. That couldn’t be right. Even the sleaziest of game developers wouldn’t dare going this far.
Well apart from that crazy dude who’d made that fucked up monster girl game.
“Um, isn’t this a children’s game?” Jackson said. “E10+?”
Moréhâgg cocked her head. “You’re over eighteen aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Then quit complaining.”
She sat down.
On his cock.
Unable to move, Jackson watched as his throbbing hard-on slowly vanished inside her. It felt like he was pushing up inside a cup of some kind of warm, soft, gooey substance. Moréhâgg sighed as she reached the base of his penis. Her labia puffed up, forming a tight cuff around the root of his cock. Her pussy wriggled around him and a thick cloud of pleasure diffused down his shaft and through his body.
“Oh yes,” Moréhâgg sighed.
She closed her eyes. Her left hand squeezed the firm globe of her breast. Her pussy stopped wriggling and instead squeezed tightly around him, packing her soft squishy tissue up against every over-sensitized millimeter of his throbbing hard-on.
Jackson’s mouth fell open.
That felt nice.
At least until the familiar slap he felt every time an enemy’s attack hit him. Forty-four flashed above his head in red numbers. Moréhâgg gave a contented sigh. Forty-four flashed above her head in green numbers.
She was draining his health points to replenish her own?
Her pussy relaxed, feeling again like a cup filled with warm gooey jelly.
“Mmm.” Moréhâgg shifted position. Her chest, and the pleasant curves of her breasts, rose as she drew in a relaxed breath.
She breathed out and her pussy pressed tightly around his cock with a moist squish. Jackson’s legs quivered as he felt her soft flesh squeeze his erection with a pleasant pulsing motion.
The pleasure was again forestalled by a slap as forty-four flashed above his head in red numbers. The same number appeared above the succubi’s head in green.
She gave an indecent sigh. Her cheeks reddened. Both of her hands squeezed the bulges of her tits together.
“This is my second favorite action,” Moréhâgg said. “Do you like it.”
“I’m not sure I like what it’s doing to my health points,” Jackson said.
Moréhâgg tipped her head back and laughed. She shifted position in his lap, bouncing against him with little rocks of her hips. The gooey flesh of her pussy pressed tightly against his cock in another smothering embrace. Snugly gripped, Jackson felt more pulsing little sucks run up his throbbing shaft.
Oh…Oh…
His heels rattled against the stone floor. His hips moved against her with involuntary jerks. Her body was a soft warm centre wrapped around his most intimate organ. He thought he might have come. Something had oozed out.
He felt another weird slap as another forty-four point chunk vanished from his health and went to the demon girl straddling him.
Moréhâgg opened her eyes and smiled down at Jackson. Her face had a contented glow.
“Back to full health,” she said.
“That’s…uh…good to hear,” Jackson said. “That means you can stop, right…?”
Her three hits had taken over ninety percent of his health.
Moréhâgg placed a long finger at the corner of her full lips and gave him a coquettish smile.
“The next one will take me to zero health,” Jackson said.
He didn’t know what would happen then. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.
Moréhâgg shifted position in his lap. Her labia tightened around the root of his cock, preparing for the final suck that would take Jackson right to the Game Over screen.
“Please.”
Moréhâgg paused. She smiled down at Jackson.
“The fight has gone long enough. My Coup de Grâce move is ready.”
Uh-oh, things do not look good for ourhero chew toy. Concluded next Saturday...
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-3 Puff-Puff Setback
“You seem a very angry young adventurer. It’s time to use one of my special attacks. I think you’ll like it.” Her red eyes twinkled as she smiled at him. “How about it? Would you like to see my Puff-Puff attack?”
Jackson shook his head. Puff-Puff. Really. Those wacky Japanese, always trying to get crap past the radar.
“Isn’t that some lame euphemism for rubbing your titties in my face.”
Moréhâgg smiled. She placed her hands on either side of her swollen breasts and squeezed them together. Jackson almost expected to hear some kind of stupid boing sound effect.
“Why don’t you close your eyes, relax and enjoy it,” Moréhâgg said with a voice like crushed velvet.
“Yeah right,” Jackson said. “And when I open them you’ll be rubbing two of those stupid slime creatures against the side of my head. Or it will be two sheep rubbing their asses against me. Don’t bother trying to tease me. I know this is an E10 game. There’s no way you’re getting your tits out.”
Moréhâgg pounced, knocking Jackson on his back and pinning him to the floor. She straddled his chest and unhooked the catch holding her latex corset-thing together. Her breasts—big, pink and extremely bouncy—bobbed free.
They were…impressive.
“You were right with the first guess,” Moréhâgg said with a lascivious smile. She caught her swaying mammaries and cupped them in her hands.
Jackson looked up at the swaying mounds of creamy-pink flesh. He clearly saw the perky little pink points of her nipples. What the fuck was going on here? This didn’t happen in battles. They all followed the same ridiculous yet inviolable laws.
Moréhâgg’s red eyes twinkled. Her moist lips pouted as if for a kiss. “Puff-Puff,” she breathed.
She fell forwards, burying his head in the warm space between her large and extremely soft boobs. Jackson lay back, unable do anything as she covered his face with her bosom. She twisted her upper body from side to side and Jackson felt the soft mass of her heavy breasts paff his head one way and then the other.
Giggling, Moréhâgg pressed down harder. Her arms went around the back of his head and she scooped him up into the smothering embrace of her cleavage. Jackson’s head, wedged up between her soft boobs, moved from side to side as she twisted her body. Her skin felt like the smoothest silk as it rubbed against his cheeks. His nose and mouth were pressed so tightly into her chest it was hard to breathe.
Moréhâgg had no intention of suffocating him just yet. She let his head fall away enough to allow him to take a breath. He inhaled air saturated with the heady musk of her body. Laughing, she paffed his head with her swinging breasts. Then she was pressing down again and squeezing her tits together around his face.
“What do you think, adventurer? Nice aren’t they. Have you ever felt a pair as warm and as soft as this?”
Jackson hadn’t, although he couldn’t admit that. His mouth was filled with her overflowing chest. She let him take another hasty breath and then started squeezing her boobs against the sides of his face again, squeezing them like they were super-soft rubber balls.
Was this an actual attack? What kind of fucked up game was this?
Actually, it felt pretty sweet.
At least up until the point when Moréhâgg didn’t lift up to allow him to take a breath. Instead she responded to his squirming struggles by pressing her chest down even harder, smothering him as effectively as if she’d placed a pillow over his face.
“I need you nice and pliant for my other moves,” Moréhâgg said.
Jackson wriggled as he tried, unsuccessfully, to squirm out from under her. His lungs were aching.
“And now my other Puff-Puff attack.”
She lifted her smothering bosom. Her breasts shivered and two thick purple clouds of perfume puffed out of her nipples…
…right as Jackson sucked in a much-needed lungful of air.
Ohhh…
The fumes rushed up to his brain and sent it sailing away on fluffy, perfumed clouds. He lay back on the floor and felt all his muscles relax as the tension drained from his body. Well, not all of it. Down between his legs he felt a great deal of tension straining against his underwear.
“Time to make you a little more comfortable,” Moréhâgg said. “It’s far too hot in here to be wearing all this leather armor.”
She went straight to his groin, undid the buckle and pulled down his leather leggings. Jackson didn’t resist. He thought he might be hallucinating as there were little dancing pink hearts floating in front of his vision. Moréhâgg pulled away his cotton underwear and his cock bobbed up like a hypnotized snake.
“Ooh, nice,” Moréhâgg said. She ran a moist tongue around her glossy red lips.
The hearts went away. Jackson noticed the comfortable paralysis that had kept him still had ended. He could move. He tightened his grip on his sword.
The succubus noticed too.
“Humph. Lucky roll,” she pouted. “The entrancement should have lasted for at least another two turns.”
Rolls? Turns? What was she?
Jackson started to raise his sword.
Moréhâgg poked his wrist with a single finger. “Block.”
Jackson’s hand fell back onto the floor.
Moréhâgg shifted position. The pink mountainous peaks of her naked breasts loomed over Jackson’s face.
“Double Puff-Puff.”
Her nipples were already expelling more clouds of perfume as she dropped down and mashed Jackson’s face up between the soft pillows of her breasts. Mewling in pleasure, she rubbed them against his face. Jackson’s vision vanished beneath jiggling pink flesh. Moréhâgg made a lot of indecent noises as she smothered him with her tits. Three times she pressed down hard enough to cut off his air, and three times she allowed him breaths tainted with her cloying, magical perfume.
At the end of it ‘Jackson is unable to move’ was scrolling through his head like a child’s first attempt at a goto program. A silly grin was plastered on his lips and his cock was throbbing hard enough to burst.
“Better,” Moréhâgg said. “That should keep you still for a while.”
Jackson couldn’t move, but other than that his thoughts were relatively clear…apart from the distraction provided by his raging hard-on. Moréhâgg squatted right above it. Her vagina was completely exposed, naked and not even pixelated. Jackson’s cock wasn’t pixelated either.
This had gone way beyond lame innuendo. She was really going to fuck him. That couldn’t be right. Even the sleaziest of game developers wouldn’t dare going this far.
Well apart from that crazy dude who’d made that fucked up monster girl game.
“Um, isn’t this a children’s game?” Jackson said. “E10+?”
Moréhâgg cocked her head. “You’re over eighteen aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Then quit complaining.”
She sat down.
On his cock.
Unable to move, Jackson watched as his throbbing hard-on slowly vanished inside her. It felt like he was pushing up inside a cup of some kind of warm, soft, gooey substance. Moréhâgg sighed as she reached the base of his penis. Her labia puffed up, forming a tight cuff around the root of his cock. Her pussy wriggled around him and a thick cloud of pleasure diffused down his shaft and through his body.
“Oh yes,” Moréhâgg sighed.
She closed her eyes. Her left hand squeezed the firm globe of her breast. Her pussy stopped wriggling and instead squeezed tightly around him, packing her soft squishy tissue up against every over-sensitized millimeter of his throbbing hard-on.
Jackson’s mouth fell open.
That felt nice.
At least until the familiar slap he felt every time an enemy’s attack hit him. Forty-four flashed above his head in red numbers. Moréhâgg gave a contented sigh. Forty-four flashed above her head in green numbers.
She was draining his health points to replenish her own?
Her pussy relaxed, feeling again like a cup filled with warm gooey jelly.
“Mmm.” Moréhâgg shifted position. Her chest, and the pleasant curves of her breasts, rose as she drew in a relaxed breath.
She breathed out and her pussy pressed tightly around his cock with a moist squish. Jackson’s legs quivered as he felt her soft flesh squeeze his erection with a pleasant pulsing motion.
The pleasure was again forestalled by a slap as forty-four flashed above his head in red numbers. The same number appeared above the succubi’s head in green.
She gave an indecent sigh. Her cheeks reddened. Both of her hands squeezed the bulges of her tits together.
“This is my second favorite action,” Moréhâgg said. “Do you like it.”
“I’m not sure I like what it’s doing to my health points,” Jackson said.
Moréhâgg tipped her head back and laughed. She shifted position in his lap, bouncing against him with little rocks of her hips. The gooey flesh of her pussy pressed tightly against his cock in another smothering embrace. Snugly gripped, Jackson felt more pulsing little sucks run up his throbbing shaft.
Oh…Oh…
His heels rattled against the stone floor. His hips moved against her with involuntary jerks. Her body was a soft warm centre wrapped around his most intimate organ. He thought he might have come. Something had oozed out.
He felt another weird slap as another forty-four point chunk vanished from his health and went to the demon girl straddling him.
Moréhâgg opened her eyes and smiled down at Jackson. Her face had a contented glow.
“Back to full health,” she said.
“That’s…uh…good to hear,” Jackson said. “That means you can stop, right…?”
Her three hits had taken over ninety percent of his health.
Moréhâgg placed a long finger at the corner of her full lips and gave him a coquettish smile.
“The next one will take me to zero health,” Jackson said.
He didn’t know what would happen then. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.
Moréhâgg shifted position in his lap. Her labia tightened around the root of his cock, preparing for the final suck that would take Jackson right to the Game Over screen.
“Please.”
Moréhâgg paused. She smiled down at Jackson.
“The fight has gone long enough. My Coup de Grâce move is ready.”
Uh-oh, things do not look good for our
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-2 Puff-Puff Setback
The story continues...
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-2 Puff-Puff Setback
“Welcome to the lair of Moréhâgg the succubus, adventurer,” horny fetish-bait said. “I’m going to enjoy playing with you.”
“And ima gonna give your face a good turkey-slappin’ wiv my penis,” Jackson said.
Jackson had given up bothering to say anything sensible. It was a JRPG. No one had more than three lines of dialogue and it didn’t matter what he said anyway.
Demonic perv-magnet pouted at him. “Wouldn’t you rather I sucked it instead?”
Eh?
No time to ponder what he’d thought she said. He felt that strange swirly dislocation that indicated he was about to enter battle. His vision blurred and then cleared. He was standing in the same location, but everything around him appeared crisper, as if he was seeing it all at a higher resolution.
That included the succubus.
Jackson smiled and shook his head. So predictable. Didn’t matter what age the game was aimed at, the dirty old developers couldn’t resist sneaking in an obvious fetish fuel character for them and their audience of adolescent boys to perv over. Jackson used to be one of those adolescent boys before he’d grown up and realized how sad it was.
Moréhâgg was worthy of a good perv. She looked like filth incarnate. She possessed the mountainous silicone-enhanced peaks of a porn actress welded to an impossibly thin wasp waist—the kind of figure that could only exist in hentai. Her costume wasn’t exactly there to preserve modesty. Her shiny purple top revealed more cleavage than it hid, and the glossy material was stretched almost to bursting trying to contain her abundant breasts. The eye-shaped clasp that held the thing together at her chest looked like it might pop at any moment. Most of her flat belly, including the little dimple of her navel, was exposed. Her long lithe legs were covered in kinky fishnet stockings that ran down to a pair of sexy stiletto heels. The stockings were attached to her waist with suspenders.
Fetish fuel. Pure filthy fetish fuel.
She was also the area boss. Jackson could tell—she had her own battle theme.
That was the other stupid thing. Every time he went into battle, music would start playing even though there wasn’t a single musician in sight. Usually it was something wibbly-warbly that was meant to be rousing, but instead sounded like someone farting through a tin in a bath full of semen. Moréhâgg’s music was different—slow and slinky. Dirty.
Wait!
Jackson noticed she wasn’t wearing any underwear. He looked between her legs and saw a neat little bar of trimmed pubic hair and the shadowy cleft of her pussy.
This was…unexpected.
He remembered her words before the battle had begun. Had she actually said what he thought he’d heard her say?
Moréhâgg stood next to the throne and gave her long red nails a bored glance.
“Are you going to do something, or do I have to wait here all day?”
That jerked Jackson to attention. Yes, it was his turn.
He charged forwards and slashed Moréhâgg across her ample chest. He felt the impact and Moréhâgg doubled up. Thirty-one flashed above her head in floating red numbers. Then she stood back up straight and Jackson saw no visible mark his attack had hit her.
None of his attacks ever did. Jackson had slaughtered hundreds of stupid gonks in the ruins above and in the countryside leading up to them and his blade was still as pristine and shiny as if it had been freshly forged. Kids’ game. No blood effects allowed here.
“Is that all?” Moréhâgg taunted.
Jackson knew he’d damaged her from the numbers he’d seen flash above her head.
She looked down at his sword.
“No wonder. You’re still using that? Why didn’t you get the better one at the last town?”
“Waste of money,” Jackson muttered at his toes.
Never buy weapons. There was always the same or better hiding in the next chest. That’s how JRPGs worked.
The demon girl threw a fireball at him and he smoothly dodged it. He didn’t know how much health she had left. Probably not much. The fetish fuel enemies were usually pretty flimsy, but they often made up for it with lots of annoying status-changing attacks. Best if he finished this quickly. Time to use…
“Oh, are you going to use one of your special attacks?” Moréhâgg asked. Her eyes shone with excitement.
Who was this? She was the first character Jackson had encountered that seemed aware they were in a world constrained by weird videogame rules.
“Come on, let’s see it,” Moréhâgg said eagerly.
Jackson took up a stance with his sword. He hated this part.
“Aww, are you embarrassed,” Moréhâgg said. “You know it doesn’t work if you don’t call it first.”
Jackson knew. Unfortunately.
“Super Slash,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
Stupid Japanese anime conventions. She was right though, it didn’t work unless he called it first. Jackson hated that. It always made him feel like the dorkiest Dork McDorkien.
The succubus put a hand to her mouth and giggled.
Flames flickered along the edge of Jackson’s sword.
Laugh this off, bitch, he thought.
He charged and hit her with an upward stroke that flung her backwards. Seventy-one flickered above her head in red numbers.
Yeah! That’s more like it.
“Like that, huh,” Jackson said. “After I beat you I’m going to use this ‘bad’ sword on you like a dildo. If I’m feeling nice I might even insert it hilt first.”
“Ooh, kinky,” the succubus said, standing back up with a smile on her full lips.
She threw another fireball. This time Jackson blocked it with his shield, taking no damage.
“But it’s your other ‘sword’ I’m interested in.” The succubus glanced down at Jackson’s waist. “Even if it looks a little small.”
What the fuck!
“Fuck you!” Jackson shouted.
He connected with another sideways slash and thirty-one flashed above Moréhâgg’s head.
“Fuck using my sword. I’m going to shove a hammer up there instead. No, one of my shields!”
Moréhâgg spun back around to face him. For all her exaggerated curves, her moves were as fluid as a dancer’s. She placed a long finger against her silky smooth cheek.
“You seem a very angry young adventurer. It’s time to use one of my special attacks. I think you’ll like it.” Her red eyes twinkled as she smiled at him. “How about it? Would you like to see my Puff-Puff attack?”
Come back next Saturday to see what Moréhâgg's special attack is. It's rather naughty...
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-2 Puff-Puff Setback
“Welcome to the lair of Moréhâgg the succubus, adventurer,” horny fetish-bait said. “I’m going to enjoy playing with you.”
“And ima gonna give your face a good turkey-slappin’ wiv my penis,” Jackson said.
Jackson had given up bothering to say anything sensible. It was a JRPG. No one had more than three lines of dialogue and it didn’t matter what he said anyway.
Demonic perv-magnet pouted at him. “Wouldn’t you rather I sucked it instead?”
Eh?
No time to ponder what he’d thought she said. He felt that strange swirly dislocation that indicated he was about to enter battle. His vision blurred and then cleared. He was standing in the same location, but everything around him appeared crisper, as if he was seeing it all at a higher resolution.
That included the succubus.
Jackson smiled and shook his head. So predictable. Didn’t matter what age the game was aimed at, the dirty old developers couldn’t resist sneaking in an obvious fetish fuel character for them and their audience of adolescent boys to perv over. Jackson used to be one of those adolescent boys before he’d grown up and realized how sad it was.
Moréhâgg was worthy of a good perv. She looked like filth incarnate. She possessed the mountainous silicone-enhanced peaks of a porn actress welded to an impossibly thin wasp waist—the kind of figure that could only exist in hentai. Her costume wasn’t exactly there to preserve modesty. Her shiny purple top revealed more cleavage than it hid, and the glossy material was stretched almost to bursting trying to contain her abundant breasts. The eye-shaped clasp that held the thing together at her chest looked like it might pop at any moment. Most of her flat belly, including the little dimple of her navel, was exposed. Her long lithe legs were covered in kinky fishnet stockings that ran down to a pair of sexy stiletto heels. The stockings were attached to her waist with suspenders.
Fetish fuel. Pure filthy fetish fuel.
She was also the area boss. Jackson could tell—she had her own battle theme.
That was the other stupid thing. Every time he went into battle, music would start playing even though there wasn’t a single musician in sight. Usually it was something wibbly-warbly that was meant to be rousing, but instead sounded like someone farting through a tin in a bath full of semen. Moréhâgg’s music was different—slow and slinky. Dirty.
Wait!
Jackson noticed she wasn’t wearing any underwear. He looked between her legs and saw a neat little bar of trimmed pubic hair and the shadowy cleft of her pussy.
This was…unexpected.
He remembered her words before the battle had begun. Had she actually said what he thought he’d heard her say?
Moréhâgg stood next to the throne and gave her long red nails a bored glance.
“Are you going to do something, or do I have to wait here all day?”
That jerked Jackson to attention. Yes, it was his turn.
He charged forwards and slashed Moréhâgg across her ample chest. He felt the impact and Moréhâgg doubled up. Thirty-one flashed above her head in floating red numbers. Then she stood back up straight and Jackson saw no visible mark his attack had hit her.
None of his attacks ever did. Jackson had slaughtered hundreds of stupid gonks in the ruins above and in the countryside leading up to them and his blade was still as pristine and shiny as if it had been freshly forged. Kids’ game. No blood effects allowed here.
“Is that all?” Moréhâgg taunted.
Jackson knew he’d damaged her from the numbers he’d seen flash above her head.
She looked down at his sword.
“No wonder. You’re still using that? Why didn’t you get the better one at the last town?”
“Waste of money,” Jackson muttered at his toes.
Never buy weapons. There was always the same or better hiding in the next chest. That’s how JRPGs worked.
The demon girl threw a fireball at him and he smoothly dodged it. He didn’t know how much health she had left. Probably not much. The fetish fuel enemies were usually pretty flimsy, but they often made up for it with lots of annoying status-changing attacks. Best if he finished this quickly. Time to use…
“Oh, are you going to use one of your special attacks?” Moréhâgg asked. Her eyes shone with excitement.
Who was this? She was the first character Jackson had encountered that seemed aware they were in a world constrained by weird videogame rules.
“Come on, let’s see it,” Moréhâgg said eagerly.
Jackson took up a stance with his sword. He hated this part.
“Aww, are you embarrassed,” Moréhâgg said. “You know it doesn’t work if you don’t call it first.”
Jackson knew. Unfortunately.
“Super Slash,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
Stupid Japanese anime conventions. She was right though, it didn’t work unless he called it first. Jackson hated that. It always made him feel like the dorkiest Dork McDorkien.
The succubus put a hand to her mouth and giggled.
Flames flickered along the edge of Jackson’s sword.
Laugh this off, bitch, he thought.
He charged and hit her with an upward stroke that flung her backwards. Seventy-one flickered above her head in red numbers.
Yeah! That’s more like it.
“Like that, huh,” Jackson said. “After I beat you I’m going to use this ‘bad’ sword on you like a dildo. If I’m feeling nice I might even insert it hilt first.”
“Ooh, kinky,” the succubus said, standing back up with a smile on her full lips.
She threw another fireball. This time Jackson blocked it with his shield, taking no damage.
“But it’s your other ‘sword’ I’m interested in.” The succubus glanced down at Jackson’s waist. “Even if it looks a little small.”
What the fuck!
“Fuck you!” Jackson shouted.
He connected with another sideways slash and thirty-one flashed above Moréhâgg’s head.
“Fuck using my sword. I’m going to shove a hammer up there instead. No, one of my shields!”
Moréhâgg spun back around to face him. For all her exaggerated curves, her moves were as fluid as a dancer’s. She placed a long finger against her silky smooth cheek.
“You seem a very angry young adventurer. It’s time to use one of my special attacks. I think you’ll like it.” Her red eyes twinkled as she smiled at him. “How about it? Would you like to see my Puff-Puff attack?”
Come back next Saturday to see what Moréhâgg's special attack is. It's rather naughty...
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-1 Puff-Puff Setback
And we're off with a new mini-serial...
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-1 Puff-Puff Setback
Ian Jackson swatted the last goblin-thing with his sword. It hit the ground, disappeared, the victory music played, and then Jackson was back in the stone corridor. The monsters left behind thirty-one pieces of gold.
Supposedly.
Jackson never saw it. He never did. The gold was always transferred automatically to his inventory. Currently he was carrying 1,936 gold coins. In his pockets.
That wasn’t all. He was also currently carrying twenty daggers, fifty arrows, seven swords, seven axes, three spears, eight wizard’s staffs, two hammers, three shields, five helmets, sixty assorted bits of armor, six pairs of boots, a whip, and seventy-two medicinal herbs. And this was before even considering the slimeballs and other weirdness he didn’t dare sell off in case it turned out to be useful later. In a rucksack.
It was kind of stupid when you thought about it.
Jackson tried not to.
It was a stupid world.
The corridor turned around to the right. He must be getting near the heart of the dungeon. Nothing had leapt out to commit suicide on the end of his sword for the last fifty paces.
The walls were made out of crumbling old stone, lit up at regular intervals with burning torches. Foul smelling water oozed out of cracks and dribbled down the walls. The corridor continued for maybe a hundred meters or so before turning right again. Jackson was more interested in the big wooden door situated in the right hand wall, about halfway down the corridor.
Such an obvious boss location, he thought. So predictable.
He walked down the corridor and stopped outside the door. It was big—more than two meters high and wide enough for two men to walk through abreast. It was also in considerably better condition than the rest of the ruins. The wood was bright red in color and the hinges were freshly polished brass.
This definitely led to the area boss.
Jackson paused and checked his status. The last fight had taken him up to level thirteen. He had some new skill points. He put them into Sword and noticed how the blade in his hand suddenly felt lighter. He cast Cure to take his health back to full.
A little over a week ago Jackson had been living a fairly ordinary, if dull, life as a software developer writing transaction processing systems for a bank. It was as interesting as it sounded, but it paid well and Jackson felt fortunate to have landed the job straight out of university. In evenings he spent his time playing console games and at the weekend he hit the bars to watch sports with the guys from work.
All that had gone to hell when he’d been sucked into a computer game.
It was a long story.
The ending was simple. Beat the game and he was out. No problem. Jackson was fucking shit-hot at computer games…
…but did it have to be a fucking Japanese Role-Playing Game?
Everyone knew fantasy JRPGs were the turdiest of turds in the gaming world. Well, apart from the old nerds that still went misty-eyed at the mention of Final Fantasy VII. At least in Tron, Garrett Hedlund had Beau Garrett in a skintight silver jumpsuit to drool over. Jackson had bug-eyed morons with memories that would shame a goldfish. On leaving the first village he’d managed maybe forty meters before a giant cucumber had sprung out of the undergrowth and attacked him with a spear.
JRPGs were fucking stupid, and he was trapped in one.
At least it would be easy. All JRPGs were. Kill monsters until you leveled up enough to kill harder monsters. Repeat until the end of the game. Whenever that was.
That was the problem with JRPGs, they dragged on for fucking forever. He knew from bitter experience. Those bastards had sucked up months of his life before he’d finally grown up and discovered GTA and real games.
Maybe he’d figure out some kind of strategic exploit. All these games could be broken in half once a smart player figured them out. The only problem was Jackson was still working through the dull-as-shit early stages. It had already taken him over a week to find this, the second dungeon.
At least he was at the boss.
Okay, let’s do this.
He pushed the door open.
On the other side was a large throne room. Gaily-colored silk banners adorned the walls. The whole room was a massive contrast to the rest of the crumbling ruins. A thick red carpet scrunched beneath his sandals as he entered the room. Impressive chandeliers and candelabra bathed the room in a warm glow. At the far end of the room a golden throne sat on a raised dais.
So predictable.
A sexy and extremely sluttily-dressed girl sat on the throne. Demon girl to be more exact. As Jackson walked up to the throne she stood up and purple-black bat wings unfurled from behind her back. As well as the wings she also had horns and a long slender tail with the classic spade-like tip.
Not a bad collection of pixels, if you were into that kind of thing.
“Welcome to the lair of Moréhâgg the succubus, adventurer,” horny fetish-bait said. “I’m going to enjoy playing with you.”
“And ima gonna give your face a good turkey-slappin’ wiv my penis,” Jackson said.
Jackson had given up bothering to say anything sensible. It was a JRPG. No one had more than three lines of dialogue and it didn’t matter what he said anyway.
Demonic perv-magnet pouted at him. “Wouldn’t you rather I sucked it instead?”
Eh?
A quiet start. Things will start heating up in part two next Saturday...
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-1 Puff-Puff Setback
Ian Jackson swatted the last goblin-thing with his sword. It hit the ground, disappeared, the victory music played, and then Jackson was back in the stone corridor. The monsters left behind thirty-one pieces of gold.
Supposedly.
Jackson never saw it. He never did. The gold was always transferred automatically to his inventory. Currently he was carrying 1,936 gold coins. In his pockets.
That wasn’t all. He was also currently carrying twenty daggers, fifty arrows, seven swords, seven axes, three spears, eight wizard’s staffs, two hammers, three shields, five helmets, sixty assorted bits of armor, six pairs of boots, a whip, and seventy-two medicinal herbs. And this was before even considering the slimeballs and other weirdness he didn’t dare sell off in case it turned out to be useful later. In a rucksack.
It was kind of stupid when you thought about it.
Jackson tried not to.
It was a stupid world.
The corridor turned around to the right. He must be getting near the heart of the dungeon. Nothing had leapt out to commit suicide on the end of his sword for the last fifty paces.
The walls were made out of crumbling old stone, lit up at regular intervals with burning torches. Foul smelling water oozed out of cracks and dribbled down the walls. The corridor continued for maybe a hundred meters or so before turning right again. Jackson was more interested in the big wooden door situated in the right hand wall, about halfway down the corridor.
Such an obvious boss location, he thought. So predictable.
He walked down the corridor and stopped outside the door. It was big—more than two meters high and wide enough for two men to walk through abreast. It was also in considerably better condition than the rest of the ruins. The wood was bright red in color and the hinges were freshly polished brass.
This definitely led to the area boss.
Jackson paused and checked his status. The last fight had taken him up to level thirteen. He had some new skill points. He put them into Sword and noticed how the blade in his hand suddenly felt lighter. He cast Cure to take his health back to full.
A little over a week ago Jackson had been living a fairly ordinary, if dull, life as a software developer writing transaction processing systems for a bank. It was as interesting as it sounded, but it paid well and Jackson felt fortunate to have landed the job straight out of university. In evenings he spent his time playing console games and at the weekend he hit the bars to watch sports with the guys from work.
All that had gone to hell when he’d been sucked into a computer game.
It was a long story.
The ending was simple. Beat the game and he was out. No problem. Jackson was fucking shit-hot at computer games…
…but did it have to be a fucking Japanese Role-Playing Game?
Everyone knew fantasy JRPGs were the turdiest of turds in the gaming world. Well, apart from the old nerds that still went misty-eyed at the mention of Final Fantasy VII. At least in Tron, Garrett Hedlund had Beau Garrett in a skintight silver jumpsuit to drool over. Jackson had bug-eyed morons with memories that would shame a goldfish. On leaving the first village he’d managed maybe forty meters before a giant cucumber had sprung out of the undergrowth and attacked him with a spear.
JRPGs were fucking stupid, and he was trapped in one.
At least it would be easy. All JRPGs were. Kill monsters until you leveled up enough to kill harder monsters. Repeat until the end of the game. Whenever that was.
That was the problem with JRPGs, they dragged on for fucking forever. He knew from bitter experience. Those bastards had sucked up months of his life before he’d finally grown up and discovered GTA and real games.
Maybe he’d figure out some kind of strategic exploit. All these games could be broken in half once a smart player figured them out. The only problem was Jackson was still working through the dull-as-shit early stages. It had already taken him over a week to find this, the second dungeon.
At least he was at the boss.
Okay, let’s do this.
He pushed the door open.
On the other side was a large throne room. Gaily-colored silk banners adorned the walls. The whole room was a massive contrast to the rest of the crumbling ruins. A thick red carpet scrunched beneath his sandals as he entered the room. Impressive chandeliers and candelabra bathed the room in a warm glow. At the far end of the room a golden throne sat on a raised dais.
So predictable.
A sexy and extremely sluttily-dressed girl sat on the throne. Demon girl to be more exact. As Jackson walked up to the throne she stood up and purple-black bat wings unfurled from behind her back. As well as the wings she also had horns and a long slender tail with the classic spade-like tip.
Not a bad collection of pixels, if you were into that kind of thing.
“Welcome to the lair of Moréhâgg the succubus, adventurer,” horny fetish-bait said. “I’m going to enjoy playing with you.”
“And ima gonna give your face a good turkey-slappin’ wiv my penis,” Jackson said.
Jackson had given up bothering to say anything sensible. It was a JRPG. No one had more than three lines of dialogue and it didn’t matter what he said anyway.
Demonic perv-magnet pouted at him. “Wouldn’t you rather I sucked it instead?”
Eh?
A quiet start. Things will start heating up in part two next Saturday...
Friday, May 18, 2012
New manyeyedhydra mini-serial starting here this Saturday
I wanted to get back to the lighter tone of stories like "Slayer vs Succubus" and "Succubus Keep", and I picked up some inspiration from a discussion of JRPGs that was supposed to result in a short short story, but ended up being an average length short story. Rather conveniently, it breaks into four 1,000 word chunks and should fill the gap that would have been taken by previews for A Succubus for Freedom if the eponymous story hadn't delayed me finishing the whole damn thing by a couple of months (grr....)
I'm not sure whether this will be the start of a regular series, or just a one-shot. I threw someone into a JRPG and added an X-rated encounter because I am a sick and twisted individual that delights in taking previously harmless, if slightly dodgy, innuendo and pumping it up into full-blown hardcore filth. It should come across as an affectionate parody with lots of in-jokes, but if it devolves into something seedy and creepy, hopefully it will be entertainingly seedy and creepy.
Should start Saturday anyway, and I hope people enjoy it.
I'm not sure whether this will be the start of a regular series, or just a one-shot. I threw someone into a JRPG and added an X-rated encounter because I am a sick and twisted individual that delights in taking previously harmless, if slightly dodgy, innuendo and pumping it up into full-blown hardcore filth. It should come across as an affectionate parody with lots of in-jokes, but if it devolves into something seedy and creepy, hopefully it will be entertainingly seedy and creepy.
Should start Saturday anyway, and I hope people enjoy it.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Big Chill in TVTroperLand
'ello, 'ello. What's 'appening 'ere?
TVTropes is an enormous wiki covering common storytelling devices and conventions. It's a fascinating resource for a writer as it's a comprehensive list of just about every plot device, twist, idea ever used in history. As a lover of the weird and exotic, I've also used it in the past to discover new shows, films, games and books I might never have heard of.
Although not anymore by the looks of things.
First I noticed something was wrong was when I tried to access the Monster Girl Quest page and was instead redirected to the Monster Girl Encyclopedia page. These are two similar, but completely different creations. One is a series of artworks and books by Kenkou Cross, the other is a hentai game created by Torotoro Resistance (although it does feature artwork by Kenkou Cross). To make matters worse, the Encyclopedia page now redirects to Daily Life with Monster Girl, a completely different series of work by a completely different artist.
I'm not totally sure what's happening. TVTropes appears to be in the middle of a big purge of anything referencing sexually explicit material. I found a few posts like this and a page with a list of the affected material. If this is true it would be a great shame.
Admittedly the old TVTropes was a bit of a jungle, but that was part of the charm. It was great to go hacking into the darker undergrowth and come out with a gem of a new series, film, book to follow. The internet needs its wild spots and quite frankly, a wiki that aims to be a compehensive handbook of storytelling devices yet omits anything related to sex is totally useless.
Internet. There is damage. Time to reroute.
EDITED TO ADD:
Mveculous tweeted me this link and I'm aghast at the level of stupidity on display:
http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/posts.php?discussion=13365137390A58421200&page=1
Being uneasy on the lolicon aspects is fair enough. Those profiles don't appeal much to me either. However, the follow-up posts on redirections are beyond stupid. Um guys, you do know these are COMPLETELY DIFFERENT creations you're trying to lump together? This is basically the same (and as idiotic) as redirecting Slayer and Meshuggah to the Metallica page.
If you want to cleanse the undesirables from your playpen, fine, but don't be stupid about it.
TVTropes is an enormous wiki covering common storytelling devices and conventions. It's a fascinating resource for a writer as it's a comprehensive list of just about every plot device, twist, idea ever used in history. As a lover of the weird and exotic, I've also used it in the past to discover new shows, films, games and books I might never have heard of.
Although not anymore by the looks of things.
First I noticed something was wrong was when I tried to access the Monster Girl Quest page and was instead redirected to the Monster Girl Encyclopedia page. These are two similar, but completely different creations. One is a series of artworks and books by Kenkou Cross, the other is a hentai game created by Torotoro Resistance (although it does feature artwork by Kenkou Cross). To make matters worse, the Encyclopedia page now redirects to Daily Life with Monster Girl, a completely different series of work by a completely different artist.
I'm not totally sure what's happening. TVTropes appears to be in the middle of a big purge of anything referencing sexually explicit material. I found a few posts like this and a page with a list of the affected material. If this is true it would be a great shame.
Admittedly the old TVTropes was a bit of a jungle, but that was part of the charm. It was great to go hacking into the darker undergrowth and come out with a gem of a new series, film, book to follow. The internet needs its wild spots and quite frankly, a wiki that aims to be a compehensive handbook of storytelling devices yet omits anything related to sex is totally useless.
Internet. There is damage. Time to reroute.
EDITED TO ADD:
Mveculous tweeted me this link and I'm aghast at the level of stupidity on display:
http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/posts.php?discussion=13365137390A58421200&page=1
Being uneasy on the lolicon aspects is fair enough. Those profiles don't appeal much to me either. However, the follow-up posts on redirections are beyond stupid. Um guys, you do know these are COMPLETELY DIFFERENT creations you're trying to lump together? This is basically the same (and as idiotic) as redirecting Slayer and Meshuggah to the Metallica page.
If you want to cleanse the undesirables from your playpen, fine, but don't be stupid about it.
Wednesday, May 09, 2012
Reviews, Lovely Reviews (Me this time)
Reviews are like buses, wait ages for one to come along and then you get two in the same week.
Here’s a lovely one for A Succubus for Halloween on The Horror Fiction Review:
http://thehorrorfictionreview.blogspot.com/2012/05/may-2012-reviews.html
The horror writer in me that died over a decade ago might have unearthed himself and done a little jig after reading that. As a quasi-self-published author, I always have doubts about whether my work is actually good enough to see print. Reviews like this are great for kicking those bad thoughts back down into the cellar where they belong.
And a nice (and detailed!) one from Tera for A Succubus for Christmas over on The Succubi’s Tale blog:
http://www.succubus.net/blog/2012/05/04/a-review-of-a-succubus-for-christmas/
That one did remind me I’ve been neglecting the fun stories of late. I haven’t written anything like "Slayer vs. Succubus" for a while, something I intend to correct. Don’t worry. I’m not going to stop with the dark stories either. Balance is good. Always keep the audience on their toes. That way they don’t see it coming when you sock them in the guts…
I haven’t seen a big increase in sales after the reviews. That’s fine. Contrary to what some people say about us self-published ruffians, money is not our sole motivation. I’m having fun writing and I’m glad to see I’m not embarrassing myself with my efforts.
I think I might hold off on letting the folks know about the pseudonym for a while—not sure how they’d take to “kinky and depraved”. :D
Here’s a lovely one for A Succubus for Halloween on The Horror Fiction Review:
http://thehorrorfictionreview.blogspot.com/2012/05/may-2012-reviews.html
The horror writer in me that died over a decade ago might have unearthed himself and done a little jig after reading that. As a quasi-self-published author, I always have doubts about whether my work is actually good enough to see print. Reviews like this are great for kicking those bad thoughts back down into the cellar where they belong.
And a nice (and detailed!) one from Tera for A Succubus for Christmas over on The Succubi’s Tale blog:
http://www.succubus.net/blog/2012/05/04/a-review-of-a-succubus-for-christmas/
That one did remind me I’ve been neglecting the fun stories of late. I haven’t written anything like "Slayer vs. Succubus" for a while, something I intend to correct. Don’t worry. I’m not going to stop with the dark stories either. Balance is good. Always keep the audience on their toes. That way they don’t see it coming when you sock them in the guts…
I haven’t seen a big increase in sales after the reviews. That’s fine. Contrary to what some people say about us self-published ruffians, money is not our sole motivation. I’m having fun writing and I’m glad to see I’m not embarrassing myself with my efforts.
I think I might hold off on letting the folks know about the pseudonym for a while—not sure how they’d take to “kinky and depraved”. :D
Monday, April 30, 2012
Film Review: The Cabin in the Woods
I finally got around to watching The Cabin in the Woods a few nights ago. It’s a hard film to talk about without spoiling things, so if you haven’t seen it yet, you might want to wait until you have before reading the rest of this.
Let’s start with the first obvious thing: The Cabin in the Woods is not a horror film.
Yes, there’s plenty of ketchup splattering the walls (especially near the end) and people die, but it’s a film that’s more likely to set the audience laughing than gripping the armrests in white-knuckle terror.
And the second obvious thing: The Cabin in the Woods is bloody brilliant.
I really liked the film. It’s inventive and highly entertaining. There are plenty of laugh-out-loud lines. It also has perhaps one of the finest Oh Crap moments ever set to film (If you’ve seen it, you’ll know the one I mean). As entertainment, it’s perfect.
And the final obvious thing: Entertainment is not what most people will talk about when discussing The Cabin in the Woods.
Yep, it’s the meta, baby. It’s all about the subverting, deconstructing and bending of common horror tropes while tipping a knowing wink to the audience. It’s not a new concept for horror. Scream revitalised the jaded slasher sub-genre by including self-aware characters and playing around with the obvious clichés. Feast replaced Twenty Minutes With Jerks with freeze-frame captions and then plays merry hell with the usual horror death tropes. Michael Haneke’s original Funny Games (a deliberately uncomfortable film to watch) makes the audience complicit in the carnage.
Cabin is a lighter, fluffier version of Funny Games in that the entities behind everything can be seen as proxies for the audience. The main characters start off as relatively normal human beings, and are then manipulated into becoming the tired stereotypes of the films Cabin is lampooning. Joss Whedon and Drew Goddard do a good job of introducing the slasher bait and making them seem like likable human beings. This is a vast improvement over Goddard’s last film, Cloverfield, where the vacuous obnoxiousness of the leads dragged down an interesting concept.
There was potential here for Whedon and Goddard to take the film down a much more visceral, nastier path by juxtaposing the early humour with the grim realities of the character’s fates, but by rejecting the torture porn ethos of recent horror they also reject the chance of taking the film out of the other horror ghetto of Played for Laughs. Horror doesn’t need more smirking, self-aware films; it needs films that sock the viewer in the guts. In that respect Cabin isn’t a game-changer. For me, a game-changer would be a film that delivers genuine scares, has well-rounded characters worth giving a damn about, and just about stays within the line of entertainment. Sounds so simple, but I can’t see Hollywood making it until they remember how to make horror films for adults, rather than fifteen-year-old boys.
In summary, The Cabin in the Woods is great fun to watch, but if you’re expecting to be shocked out of your socks, you’re going to go home disappointed. I wanted to see a sexy witch...
It’s also given me an idea for a little writing project (as if I haven’t got enough of those on the go already!). More on that later…maybe…
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Time Out's 100 Best Horror Films
Here's some inspiration for films to watch in the dead hours of night:
Time Out's 100 Best Horror Films.
That's a distinguished cabal of horror experts they've polled there. Unsurprisingly, they've come up with an extremely solid list.
I'm not sure what my top 10 would be. Hellraiser, The Thing and Ring would be certain inclusions. Probably Night of the Demon as well (brilliant black and white horror film). After them...well it's lists, it's always impossible to include everything. Just about everything on that list is excellent, so rather than more nods to The Exorcist, Evil Dead II, etc., here are some horror films I like that aren't there:
In the Mouth of Madness
Carpenter does Lovecraft from first principles.
Hostel
Unfairly maligned for kickstarting the torture porn thing. Unusually for horror franchises, the sequel is good as well.
The Host
Superb Korean monster movie.
The first half of Jeepers Creepers
Horror films are easy to make but so hard to do well. The thirty or forty minutes of this are brilliant...then it plummets off a cliff into mediocrity.
The Quatermass Xperiment
This shouldn't really be here. They butchered Nigel Kneale's original story and replaced a humanist ending with Kill It With Electricity! but I have a soft spot for the film as it scared the pants off me as a child.
Tremors
A stretch for a horror list I know, but the whole film is a masterclass on how to make a monster B-movie and populate it with living, breathing characters.
I'm still waiting for someone to make the quintessential succubus film.
Time Out's 100 Best Horror Films.
That's a distinguished cabal of horror experts they've polled there. Unsurprisingly, they've come up with an extremely solid list.
I'm not sure what my top 10 would be. Hellraiser, The Thing and Ring would be certain inclusions. Probably Night of the Demon as well (brilliant black and white horror film). After them...well it's lists, it's always impossible to include everything. Just about everything on that list is excellent, so rather than more nods to The Exorcist, Evil Dead II, etc., here are some horror films I like that aren't there:
In the Mouth of Madness
Carpenter does Lovecraft from first principles.
Hostel
Unfairly maligned for kickstarting the torture porn thing. Unusually for horror franchises, the sequel is good as well.
The Host
Superb Korean monster movie.
The first half of Jeepers Creepers
Horror films are easy to make but so hard to do well. The thirty or forty minutes of this are brilliant...then it plummets off a cliff into mediocrity.
The Quatermass Xperiment
This shouldn't really be here. They butchered Nigel Kneale's original story and replaced a humanist ending with Kill It With Electricity! but I have a soft spot for the film as it scared the pants off me as a child.
Tremors
A stretch for a horror list I know, but the whole film is a masterclass on how to make a monster B-movie and populate it with living, breathing characters.
I'm still waiting for someone to make the quintessential succubus film.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
More Hentai Game Badness: Pretty Warrior May Cry
Pretty Warrior May Cry is a game I stumbled on in the dlsite store while looking for the link to the Violated Hero game I reviewed last week. It already comes with an English translation and there are two versions. The Enhanced Edition has more scenes (but not more monster types) and a custom scenario editor, but personally I think the original 3D graphics are better than the 2D-ised graphics of the enhanced version.
Rather than a parody of the Capcom classic Devil May Cry as the name suggests, Pretty Warrior May Cry is a fun (and filthy) little Dungeon Keeper clone. If you can remember that far back, you’ll remember Dungeon Keeper was an old PC game with a great concept—you’re the bad guy building a Deathtrap Dungeon to fend off hordes of invading heroes. My enthusiasm for the original waned after the first couple of levels when it strayed from that concept and morphed into a Real Time Strategy clickfest (a genre I don’t have much truck with unless it involves mowing down enemies in a buggy to Emperor’s "Thus Spake The Nightspirit"). Pretty Warrior May Cry sticks closer to the original idea. You play an evil (persecuted) wizard on the run. The goal is to dig out a labyrinth to hide in and populate it with monsters to slow down and take out those pesky pursuing heroes.
Of course, as it’s a hentai game, your monsters are going to do more than just attack the heroes…
An effective way to keep a marauding knight "occupied"Whenever a monster comes across a hero of the opposite sex it will attempt to rape them, triggering a sex scene in the right hand panel. You have a faithful little demonic eye creature-thing that allows you to toggle between various molested heroes.
Sadly, aside from some corrupted and converted heroines, Lilith above is the only actual monster girl in the game. The rest of the game is hardcore ryona, which means using your monsters to inflict as much rape, degredation and abuse onto the hapless female wizard and swordswoman characters as possible (and even poor Lilith, if you leave her in a room with a giant). And I mean a lot of abuse. We’re talking tentacles, devil dogs and even girls being held down and buggered up the ass by enormous dragons in some extremely graphic scenes.
That kind of stuff isn’t really my cup of tea, but the actual game is well put together and surprisingly playable. My main disappointment was the lack of female monsters. There isn’t really anything past the Liliths you start with.
Trust me. The other ways of taking out the female warriors are far worse...It’s always a difficult choice for any kind of ‘kink’ erotic game. Do you throw in lots of different kinks to attract different audiences and risk pleasing no one, or focus on one particular kink to guarantee an audience? In this case the developers, 7th dream, have set their sights on the ryona crowd. Succubus fans need only bother with the trial version.
I like the concept though. I would love to see a similar game done with more of a monster girl focus. Given the success of Monster Girl Quest, there might even be a big enough audience to make it worth doing. If 7th Dream are out there listening, or maybe other developers, I might have a few ideas I can contribute… ;)
Saturday, April 07, 2012
Another Monster Girl Hentai Game: Violated Hero
A while back I mentioned another Monster Girl game. I think. It might have been one of those blog posts I was going to make and never got around to for one reason or another. I know I was intending to review at some point and got side-tracked. Might as well slip it in now.
Violated Hero – I wanted to chivalrously save the world is a hentai game with a similar premise to Monster Girl Quest in that it features a well-meaning but pathetically inept hero thrown to the vagina dentata (not literally, there’s no vore in this game) of various nymphomaniac monster girls. The hapless (lucky) hero also has to contend with various “allies” he picks up along the way as all of them will attempt to force him to have sex with them.
There’s no real story. It’s a straightforward dungeon bash with the evil (hot, sexy) dragon girl at the bottom of the dungeon. The dungeon layout is reminiscent of Dungeon Master (or Lightning Warrior Raidy if you aren’t quite as ancient as me) but without all the sneaky switch puzzles and hidden walls. Encounters are random and are with conventional (i.e. non-sexy, non-girl) monsters displayed as silhouettes. Come across a dead end and it will trigger a special encounter where you’ll either have to fight one of the boss monster girls, or pick up an ally who’ll follow you on a sub-quest for a while before getting frisky and attempting to jump your bones.
This is the bad ending?
The mechanics are extremely rudimentary—hit one of three different attack buttons until monsters fall over, rinse and repeat until character is strong enough to take down harder monsters.
It’s not really fair to compare this with Monster Girl Quest as Toro Toro Resistance is obviously a perfectionist loony prepared to go way beyond what anyone would expect from a hentai game (10 girls? Ha, I have 300!). On the plus side, the hentai scenes in Violated Hero are gorgeously drawn and all fully voiced. Unfortunately, the rest of the artwork is an odd mix, with the monster girls displayed as 8-bit parody sprites in the actual battles.
Best described as a collection of really good hentai scenes in search of a game. Still, it’s good to see more developers catering to this niche. It can be bought from here and an English translation can be found here, although I can’t vouch for its veracity as I played the game with AGTH + Translation Aggregator.
Violated Hero – I wanted to chivalrously save the world is a hentai game with a similar premise to Monster Girl Quest in that it features a well-meaning but pathetically inept hero thrown to the vagina dentata (not literally, there’s no vore in this game) of various nymphomaniac monster girls. The hapless (lucky) hero also has to contend with various “allies” he picks up along the way as all of them will attempt to force him to have sex with them.
There’s no real story. It’s a straightforward dungeon bash with the evil (hot, sexy) dragon girl at the bottom of the dungeon. The dungeon layout is reminiscent of Dungeon Master (or Lightning Warrior Raidy if you aren’t quite as ancient as me) but without all the sneaky switch puzzles and hidden walls. Encounters are random and are with conventional (i.e. non-sexy, non-girl) monsters displayed as silhouettes. Come across a dead end and it will trigger a special encounter where you’ll either have to fight one of the boss monster girls, or pick up an ally who’ll follow you on a sub-quest for a while before getting frisky and attempting to jump your bones.
This is the bad ending?The mechanics are extremely rudimentary—hit one of three different attack buttons until monsters fall over, rinse and repeat until character is strong enough to take down harder monsters.
It’s not really fair to compare this with Monster Girl Quest as Toro Toro Resistance is obviously a perfectionist loony prepared to go way beyond what anyone would expect from a hentai game (10 girls? Ha, I have 300!). On the plus side, the hentai scenes in Violated Hero are gorgeously drawn and all fully voiced. Unfortunately, the rest of the artwork is an odd mix, with the monster girls displayed as 8-bit parody sprites in the actual battles.
Best described as a collection of really good hentai scenes in search of a game. Still, it’s good to see more developers catering to this niche. It can be bought from here and an English translation can be found here, although I can’t vouch for its veracity as I played the game with AGTH + Translation Aggregator.
Sunday, April 01, 2012
Monster Girl Quest Part 2: Full English Translation Out
It’s been three months since Monster Girl Quest part 2 came out and, right on schedule, RogueTranslator has finished translating the final third of the game. You can get the full English patch here.
Who says blondes have all the fun...
Give that man a round of applause. This continues the story right up to the demon castle and Luka’s battles against the four Heavenly Knights.
Wisely, Toro Toro Resistance hasn’t given a release date for the final part after his poor artists got harassed over delays the last time around. A sensible attitude (says someone also a bit laggardly at getting an anticipated piece of work out - *cough* Succubus Summoning 201 *cough*). His site is showing some of the new monster girl artwork and it appears the angels are just as perverted and sex-mad as every other creature in poor Luka’s world.
The new strategy to get people to go to Sunday School...
I'll finish with the obligatory plug for my own stuff: If you really like the game, you'll probably also like my stories.
(Sees how many times MGQ2 has been downloaded... I really need to find some artists and make a game...)
Who says blondes have all the fun...Give that man a round of applause. This continues the story right up to the demon castle and Luka’s battles against the four Heavenly Knights.
Wisely, Toro Toro Resistance hasn’t given a release date for the final part after his poor artists got harassed over delays the last time around. A sensible attitude (says someone also a bit laggardly at getting an anticipated piece of work out - *cough* Succubus Summoning 201 *cough*). His site is showing some of the new monster girl artwork and it appears the angels are just as perverted and sex-mad as every other creature in poor Luka’s world.
The new strategy to get people to go to Sunday School...I'll finish with the obligatory plug for my own stuff: If you really like the game, you'll probably also like my stories.
(Sees how many times MGQ2 has been downloaded... I really need to find some artists and make a game...)
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