Not quite Monday, but getting closer.
This is a continuation of my long-running Succubus Summoning series. The first arc, Succubus Summoning 101, can be found at your nearest online ebookstore. Previous chapters in the Succubus Summoning 201 arc can be found here.
Part 1
Succubus Summoning 212, part 2
"We're here to give you your test," one said.
The succubi did not look like your typical examiners. They looked more like high-class Vegas showgirls. Each wore a black velvet bodice that pushed up their breasts and displayed their cleavage to the maximum effect. These bodices were tightly laced together in a way that emphasised the gorgeous hourglass figures of their owners. Each succubus wore a black velvet skullcap that curled around their horns to form an elegant widow's peak, and was adorned with a long fluffy plume that was flamingo-pink in colour. If Darvill had not been a student warlock at Wargsnouts he might have thought their devilish horns, wings and tails were part of the same costume.
"Where is Magus Stine?" Darvill asked. "I thought he was giving this test."
Darvill was alone in the room with the three succubi. The only furniture was three plain wooden chairs.
"Our master does not wish to be bothered with such minor trifles," the first succubus said.
"He sent us to carry out the test on his behalf," the succubus to her right said.
The succubi standing before Darvill were a little underdressed compared to normal. In spite of their reputation, the succubi that accompanied The Scrote around the college were usually tastefully dressed in sumptuous black dresses that brought to mind exotic ladies of the night from period dramas. These succubi had done away with those dresses. They'd done away with everything below the waist as it happened. Aside from the fancy black stiletto-heeled boots on their feet, there was nothing covering their crotch and long, lithe legs. The hairless folds of their vulva were completely exposed, flaunted even.
The exception to this was the succubus who'd shown Darvill into the room, and this was only temporary. As soon as the door was closed behind them she peeled off the little black miniskirt she was wearing and draped it over the back of a chair.
"You don't mind?" she asked Darvill.
Her exposed nether regions were as pink and shiny as the other two succubi.
"Not at all," Darvill said. "I imagine clothes must feel inhibiting to beings of your nature."
"They are an irritation," the succubus in front of Darvill said, "but a necessary one when going out into the human world. Our unclothed forms can be quite distracting for the weaker willed."
She pursed moist red bee-stung lips and placed a foot on the seat of the chair facing Darvill.
"I hope we're not affecting your concentration," she said.
Darvill simply smiled. "A warlock should be above such distractions."
The succubus was satisfied by his answer. She sat down in the chair opposite and crossed her legs. Her attitude shifted from playful seduction to business. She motioned to the chair facing her. "Take a seat."
So, an oral examination, Darvill thought. He used to dislike them as they forced person-to-person interaction. Practise made them easier.
The succubus who'd shown him in took the remaining chair and sat facing him to his left. That left nowhere to sit for the third succubus. She stood at the right shoulder of the succubus sitting in front of him.
The succubus sitting in front of him—Darvill presumed she'd be the one giving the test—reached under the chair and picked up a clipboard.
"Let's get the preliminaries out of the way," she said. "You are Evan Darvill, correct?"
Darvill nodded his head.
"And you're Outreach?"
"Yes. I am the first potential warlock of my line."
"Tell us about your daemon."
"Their name is Calli-Scitu-Oc. They are a poly-Oc from the Circle of Greed. I summoned and successfully contracted with them on June 3rd."
"Poly-Ocs specialise in knowledge acquisition. Was it a conscious decision on your part to align yourself with the Dominion of Greed?"
"Yes?"
"Why?"
"At the time I thought it best suited my overall aims and ambitions."
"Which are?"
"Power, or more specifically—knowledge. Knowledge allows one to both obtain power and keep it."
"You're very ambitious," the succubus said. "We can smell it."
"It excites us," the succubus at her shoulder added.
"How far would you like to go? A position at this institution, the Shadow Council... further...?"
"Maybe," Darvill replied. "But that's a long way off. First I must traverse the path from student to master. Then we'll see. Positions of true power and influence are not given out, they must be worked for and earned."
"And that's it, you have no other desires?"
As the succubus sitting down in front of Darvill asked the question, the other one standing at her shoulder ran her tongue around her luscious red lips. Her glittering black eyes were fixed on Darvill as she inserted a finger in her mouth and sucked. The finger, moist with her saliva, went down to the shadows between her legs.
"You don't need to do that," Darvill said. "I know what's going on here."
to be continued...
Tuesday, March 08, 2016
Friday, March 04, 2016
H-space MGB Profile: Ophimanibus
Name: Ophimanibus
Type: Lamia
Habitat: Desert. Arid Mountains.
Description:
A dusky-skinned woman with snakes for her hair, snakes for her arms and the lower body of a giant snake. Rather than a tail, her lower snake half—like her arms—terminates in another snake head. None of these heads are false. As in, they all possess working oesophagi that link to the same alimentary system.
(I have no idea how this all connects up inside them and I'm not sure I want to know.)
These charming ladies also possess fully functional poison fangs hidden within their breasts, although the poison is supposed to have some pleasurable side effects such as increasing libido and inducing euphoria.
Attack Strategy:
They are capable of altering perception so that they are seen as sultry dancing girls. These dances have a mesmeric effect on their audience and allow the Ophimanibus to get close enough to bite her intended target. Once bitten a man will become helpless and unable to resist while the Ophimanibus performs sex acts on him.
As with other hindigs, the Ophimanibi feed on semen, or rather some abstract spark of energy or life that is released during ejaculation. While they consume the bodies afterwards, either with the lower tail mouth or sometimes even through their vagina, it is the draining of semen/energy that is fatal. Their victims are usually dead by the time they are swallowed.
(Semen == Energy == Soul?)
Countermeasures:
Their hypnotic abilities appear to be sound based—possibly generated by the head snakes and occurring at a frequency outside the range of human hearing. This is aided by a strange natural phenomenon at the edges of the Mandeville desert where they are found. Wind through rock formations on the edge of the desert produces an odd acoustic effect that dulls reaction times and seems to make men more suggestible to the mesmeric abilities of the Ophimanibi. Ear plugs should go some way to reducing the effectiveness of these attacks.
Conventional firearms are effective, assuming they're working. If they're not, engaging Ophimanibi in close quarters is not advised. They are fast, agile and the snake arms give them a lot of reach. Their venom acts quickly once it enters the bloodstream and a single bite is enough to incapacitate a man.
Threat Level:
Moderate.
Even if their mesmeric abilities are resisted, Ophimanibi are extremely dangerous at close quarters because of their speed and multiple angles of attack.
Type: Lamia
Habitat: Desert. Arid Mountains.
Description:
A dusky-skinned woman with snakes for her hair, snakes for her arms and the lower body of a giant snake. Rather than a tail, her lower snake half—like her arms—terminates in another snake head. None of these heads are false. As in, they all possess working oesophagi that link to the same alimentary system.
(I have no idea how this all connects up inside them and I'm not sure I want to know.)
These charming ladies also possess fully functional poison fangs hidden within their breasts, although the poison is supposed to have some pleasurable side effects such as increasing libido and inducing euphoria.
Attack Strategy:
They are capable of altering perception so that they are seen as sultry dancing girls. These dances have a mesmeric effect on their audience and allow the Ophimanibus to get close enough to bite her intended target. Once bitten a man will become helpless and unable to resist while the Ophimanibus performs sex acts on him.
As with other hindigs, the Ophimanibi feed on semen, or rather some abstract spark of energy or life that is released during ejaculation. While they consume the bodies afterwards, either with the lower tail mouth or sometimes even through their vagina, it is the draining of semen/energy that is fatal. Their victims are usually dead by the time they are swallowed.
(Semen == Energy == Soul?)
Countermeasures:
Their hypnotic abilities appear to be sound based—possibly generated by the head snakes and occurring at a frequency outside the range of human hearing. This is aided by a strange natural phenomenon at the edges of the Mandeville desert where they are found. Wind through rock formations on the edge of the desert produces an odd acoustic effect that dulls reaction times and seems to make men more suggestible to the mesmeric abilities of the Ophimanibi. Ear plugs should go some way to reducing the effectiveness of these attacks.
Conventional firearms are effective, assuming they're working. If they're not, engaging Ophimanibi in close quarters is not advised. They are fast, agile and the snake arms give them a lot of reach. Their venom acts quickly once it enters the bloodstream and a single bite is enough to incapacitate a man.
Threat Level:
Moderate.
Even if their mesmeric abilities are resisted, Ophimanibi are extremely dangerous at close quarters because of their speed and multiple angles of attack.
Thursday, March 03, 2016
H-space MGB Story: Ophimanibus
CPL Stewart Peter Bate didn't know how the women with snakes for arms had entered their camp.
Obviously they wouldn't have let them in had they known they had snakes for arms—and snake tails for their lower halves.
They let them in because the sultry desert maidens said they would dance for them and they were bored and horny enough to want to see some exotic dancing by sultry desert maidens.
No, that couldn't be right either.
There shouldn't be any desert maidens out here at all, sultry or otherwise. They were in a temporary tent camp on the edge of the Mandeville desert. The desert was named after the arrogant sonovabitch that had been nothing more than the embedded civilian science officer in the exploratory party that had first stumbled across it. Now it was forever named after a skinny, bespectacled piece of shit who threw temper tantrums over the most trivial of things and pissed their pants at the first sign of trouble.
There shouldn't be any sultry desert maidens because this was H-space, not Earth, and they were supposedly the first humans to ever set foot in this dimension.
Or was it?
Bate had been posted to a lot of deserts. They all tended to run together in his head. It was probably the same for all of them. They'd got confused, that's what it was. They'd mixed this desert up with one on Earth that had sultry desert maidens who liked to dance for brave liberators.
Had any of those deserts ever had sultry desert maidens who liked to dance for brave liberators?
It was easy to get confused out here. Out here was weird. Out here was like being under a burning sun even though the sky was filled with a boiling mass of angry clouds. Out here the wind whistled through strange rock formations and sounded like a secret mistress whispering lewd desires in your ear.
Bate's thoughts and memories were clouded.
Maybe that was why.
The sultry desert maidens had appeared at their camp as the skies had darkened in an approximation of nightfall. They were naked apart from glittering jewels and filigree chains of precious metals hanging between their beautifully round breasts. They'd asked the men if they wanted to see them dance and the men—being tired, bored and horny—had said yes. And the women—those dark-eyed beauties with dusky skin and sinuous arms—had danced for the men and turned their blood to steam.
Bate and the men had thought the sultry desert maidens exotic in the way they danced with snakes draped over their shoulders. Then they'd noticed that the snakes draped over their shoulders possessed a head at each end. Then they'd noticed that the dusky maidens had no arms to hold the snakes up with. The maidens needed no arms; the snakes were their arms. Then they'd noticed it wasn't just the maidens' arms. Instead of hair, the dancers' exquisite faces were framed with coils of hissing snakes. And then they'd realised they'd been too focused on bouncing breasts and slinky hips to notice what was below the waists of these exotic dancers. Instead of legs they had the lower half of a snake. Or was it an upper half? As with the arms, instead of terminating in a tail, their lower halves tapered down to a neck and another snake head with a flickering tongue.
And then all hell had broken loose.
Bate supposed he'd been one of the lucky ones. He hadn't been bitten. Many of his buddies were. He'd watched as those sinuous arms with fanged snake heads for hands had struck with the speed and ferocity of angry rattlesnakes. It wasn't the only place he'd seen fangs. They had fangs in their tits as well. Bate had watched them pop out of lush round breasts where the nipples should be... watched as the snake woman had hugged a man to her and sank those fangs into his chest... had watched as the man had convulsed and finally fallen still with white froth bubbling up out of his mouth.
Bate had got off lightly. One of the snake heads had yawned open in front of him. Its fangs had sprayed a fine cloud of venom into his face. Bate had inhaled some of the poison and fallen senseless to the floor.
He woke up in a chair with his hands tied behind him and his legs bound together. Hovering right in front of his face—too close, far too close—was the head of a large snake. The snake's scales were red and shone as if polished. Black beady eyes stared right at Bate while a forked tongue flickered back and forth.
Cold sweat rose on Bate's face. He struggled against his bonds. His bonds struggled back and Bate realised he hadn't been tied up with rope. A snake woman sat behind him. One of her snake arms had coiled around his wrists. Her tail was coiled around his ankles. Both bonds might as well have been forged from iron. Her snake arm constricted and Bate's arms were wrenched back in a painful position. He felt the soft pressure of her breasts against his back. Instead of the soft nubs of her nipples he felt the tips of something harder and sharper, something that scored lines across his naked back and left trails like vinegar in an exposed wound, something pointed that could pop out and sink deep into his vulnerable flesh at any moment.
"Why so fearful?" the snake woman behind him said. Her hair hissed. "We danced for you. Now we offer you more personal pleasures."
The snake head hovering before Bate gaped open and revealed a fleshy pink interior. It was wrong. He'd seen the inside of a snake's mouth from the time he'd had to deal with a nest of rattlers back on the family ranch. What he was looking at bore little resemblance. At the back of the snake's throat was a wall of pink flesh with a vertical slit in the centre. The opening was lined with multiple soft flaps of tissue. It looked like...
Oh no.
No, surely not.
The monster behind him chuckled.
"Our dances inflamed your passions," she said. "Now let us quench them."
Her fangs sprayed venom in his face. Again it diffused out in a fine mist that enveloped Bate's head and was breathed in before he could stop himself. This time, rather than knocking him out, the toxin had a more insidious effect on his body. He felt it immediately as his heart started to beat faster in his chest. A hot flush ran beneath his skin like a forest fire. The heat flowed down to his loins and concentrated in his cock and balls. His penis swelled with blood and rose like a fruiting mushroom. His balls felt swollen and taut. He really wanted to bust a nut out.
But not here. And definitely not with this... thing.
The snake woman kissed his cheek. Many tiny tongues from the snakes she had as hair flickered against his skin.
"Tension is poison," she whispered in his ear. "Let me draw it out of you."
The snake's head she had for a hand turned its attention down to his tumescent manhood.
No. No no no.
Bate squirmed and struggled, but was unable to wriggle out of the coils binding his wrist and ankles. The snake head had floated down to his crotch and regarded his cock as though it was a piece of small furry prey it wished to gulp down.
Tears welled up in Bate's eyes. He shook his head.
The snake's flickering tongue tickled across the bulbous head of Bate's penis. The movements weren't random. The snake woman paid special attention to Bate's urethral opening. Bate's cock gave a little twitch and a little bead of precum emerged from the tip. The snake's tongue lapped it up with flickering little licks that aroused Bate further.
"Mmm, you taste nice," the snake woman whispered to him.
Then the snake mouth opened wide and gobbled up Bate's erection.
His cock pushed through the flanges at the back of her throat and entered a tight tunnel of moist flesh. Muscle bunched up and stroked up his shaft in peristaltic contractions.
It felt good.
Fuck, it felt shameful to admit it, but it felt good.
If it was a snake he'd have thought it a weird side effect of the stupid critter trying to swallow his dick. It wasn't a snake, though, it was an arm of the demon woman behind him and she knew exactly how to use it to trigger dark, shameful pleasures within Bate. Warm fleshy walls rippled against Bate's member as she whispered foul suggestions in his ear. Her throat—if it was that; it felt more like another orifice, one devoted to pleasure and procreation—gripped and sucked.
Bate came. His mind had wandered, had taken the stimulation it was receiving and converted it into a mental image of the head of a blonde bombshell glamour model down in his lap and deep-throating him. Once he'd created that image he couldn't get rid of it, and the moment it floated to the forefront of his thoughts it was enough to take his mind off what was really happening for a moment, and that moment was enough to take him over the threshold of climax. His hips jerked and his penis throbbed as he spurted thick ropes of semen down the snake's throat. Her snake-head arm gulped, and gulped, and gulped, and when the flow had finally died down to a trickle, the jaws closed and she sank fangs into the back of his balls.
There was pain as her fangs pierced his scrotal sac, then an overwhelming sense of euphoria like nothing he'd ever experienced before as her venom flooded his balls and diffused out into his body. Her poison took hold of his balls and made them slave to her hungers. They plumped up with fresh seed and deflated like bellows as Bate expelled a mighty blast of semen up into her fleshy tunnel.
And another.
And another.
And another.
Each was visible as a bulge travelling up her serpentine arm like freshly swallowed prey.
Each took with it a portion of Bate's soul.
The snake gulped and gulped until Bate was hollowed out... empty. Still the snake woman wasn't finished. The soul might have been the main prize, but she still had use for the meat left behind. The jaws unhinged on the lowermost snake head, the one that could be found at the end of her 'tail'. Bate's feet were engulfed, then his ankles, then his lower legs. The snake gulped.
Obviously they wouldn't have let them in had they known they had snakes for arms—and snake tails for their lower halves.
They let them in because the sultry desert maidens said they would dance for them and they were bored and horny enough to want to see some exotic dancing by sultry desert maidens.
No, that couldn't be right either.
There shouldn't be any desert maidens out here at all, sultry or otherwise. They were in a temporary tent camp on the edge of the Mandeville desert. The desert was named after the arrogant sonovabitch that had been nothing more than the embedded civilian science officer in the exploratory party that had first stumbled across it. Now it was forever named after a skinny, bespectacled piece of shit who threw temper tantrums over the most trivial of things and pissed their pants at the first sign of trouble.
There shouldn't be any sultry desert maidens because this was H-space, not Earth, and they were supposedly the first humans to ever set foot in this dimension.
Or was it?
Bate had been posted to a lot of deserts. They all tended to run together in his head. It was probably the same for all of them. They'd got confused, that's what it was. They'd mixed this desert up with one on Earth that had sultry desert maidens who liked to dance for brave liberators.
Had any of those deserts ever had sultry desert maidens who liked to dance for brave liberators?
It was easy to get confused out here. Out here was weird. Out here was like being under a burning sun even though the sky was filled with a boiling mass of angry clouds. Out here the wind whistled through strange rock formations and sounded like a secret mistress whispering lewd desires in your ear.
Bate's thoughts and memories were clouded.
Maybe that was why.
The sultry desert maidens had appeared at their camp as the skies had darkened in an approximation of nightfall. They were naked apart from glittering jewels and filigree chains of precious metals hanging between their beautifully round breasts. They'd asked the men if they wanted to see them dance and the men—being tired, bored and horny—had said yes. And the women—those dark-eyed beauties with dusky skin and sinuous arms—had danced for the men and turned their blood to steam.
Bate and the men had thought the sultry desert maidens exotic in the way they danced with snakes draped over their shoulders. Then they'd noticed that the snakes draped over their shoulders possessed a head at each end. Then they'd noticed that the dusky maidens had no arms to hold the snakes up with. The maidens needed no arms; the snakes were their arms. Then they'd noticed it wasn't just the maidens' arms. Instead of hair, the dancers' exquisite faces were framed with coils of hissing snakes. And then they'd realised they'd been too focused on bouncing breasts and slinky hips to notice what was below the waists of these exotic dancers. Instead of legs they had the lower half of a snake. Or was it an upper half? As with the arms, instead of terminating in a tail, their lower halves tapered down to a neck and another snake head with a flickering tongue.
And then all hell had broken loose.
Bate supposed he'd been one of the lucky ones. He hadn't been bitten. Many of his buddies were. He'd watched as those sinuous arms with fanged snake heads for hands had struck with the speed and ferocity of angry rattlesnakes. It wasn't the only place he'd seen fangs. They had fangs in their tits as well. Bate had watched them pop out of lush round breasts where the nipples should be... watched as the snake woman had hugged a man to her and sank those fangs into his chest... had watched as the man had convulsed and finally fallen still with white froth bubbling up out of his mouth.
Bate had got off lightly. One of the snake heads had yawned open in front of him. Its fangs had sprayed a fine cloud of venom into his face. Bate had inhaled some of the poison and fallen senseless to the floor.
He woke up in a chair with his hands tied behind him and his legs bound together. Hovering right in front of his face—too close, far too close—was the head of a large snake. The snake's scales were red and shone as if polished. Black beady eyes stared right at Bate while a forked tongue flickered back and forth.
Cold sweat rose on Bate's face. He struggled against his bonds. His bonds struggled back and Bate realised he hadn't been tied up with rope. A snake woman sat behind him. One of her snake arms had coiled around his wrists. Her tail was coiled around his ankles. Both bonds might as well have been forged from iron. Her snake arm constricted and Bate's arms were wrenched back in a painful position. He felt the soft pressure of her breasts against his back. Instead of the soft nubs of her nipples he felt the tips of something harder and sharper, something that scored lines across his naked back and left trails like vinegar in an exposed wound, something pointed that could pop out and sink deep into his vulnerable flesh at any moment.
"Why so fearful?" the snake woman behind him said. Her hair hissed. "We danced for you. Now we offer you more personal pleasures."
The snake head hovering before Bate gaped open and revealed a fleshy pink interior. It was wrong. He'd seen the inside of a snake's mouth from the time he'd had to deal with a nest of rattlers back on the family ranch. What he was looking at bore little resemblance. At the back of the snake's throat was a wall of pink flesh with a vertical slit in the centre. The opening was lined with multiple soft flaps of tissue. It looked like...
Oh no.
No, surely not.
The monster behind him chuckled.
"Our dances inflamed your passions," she said. "Now let us quench them."
Her fangs sprayed venom in his face. Again it diffused out in a fine mist that enveloped Bate's head and was breathed in before he could stop himself. This time, rather than knocking him out, the toxin had a more insidious effect on his body. He felt it immediately as his heart started to beat faster in his chest. A hot flush ran beneath his skin like a forest fire. The heat flowed down to his loins and concentrated in his cock and balls. His penis swelled with blood and rose like a fruiting mushroom. His balls felt swollen and taut. He really wanted to bust a nut out.
But not here. And definitely not with this... thing.
The snake woman kissed his cheek. Many tiny tongues from the snakes she had as hair flickered against his skin.
"Tension is poison," she whispered in his ear. "Let me draw it out of you."
The snake's head she had for a hand turned its attention down to his tumescent manhood.
No. No no no.
Bate squirmed and struggled, but was unable to wriggle out of the coils binding his wrist and ankles. The snake head had floated down to his crotch and regarded his cock as though it was a piece of small furry prey it wished to gulp down.
Tears welled up in Bate's eyes. He shook his head.
The snake's flickering tongue tickled across the bulbous head of Bate's penis. The movements weren't random. The snake woman paid special attention to Bate's urethral opening. Bate's cock gave a little twitch and a little bead of precum emerged from the tip. The snake's tongue lapped it up with flickering little licks that aroused Bate further.
"Mmm, you taste nice," the snake woman whispered to him.
Then the snake mouth opened wide and gobbled up Bate's erection.
His cock pushed through the flanges at the back of her throat and entered a tight tunnel of moist flesh. Muscle bunched up and stroked up his shaft in peristaltic contractions.
It felt good.
Fuck, it felt shameful to admit it, but it felt good.
If it was a snake he'd have thought it a weird side effect of the stupid critter trying to swallow his dick. It wasn't a snake, though, it was an arm of the demon woman behind him and she knew exactly how to use it to trigger dark, shameful pleasures within Bate. Warm fleshy walls rippled against Bate's member as she whispered foul suggestions in his ear. Her throat—if it was that; it felt more like another orifice, one devoted to pleasure and procreation—gripped and sucked.
Bate came. His mind had wandered, had taken the stimulation it was receiving and converted it into a mental image of the head of a blonde bombshell glamour model down in his lap and deep-throating him. Once he'd created that image he couldn't get rid of it, and the moment it floated to the forefront of his thoughts it was enough to take his mind off what was really happening for a moment, and that moment was enough to take him over the threshold of climax. His hips jerked and his penis throbbed as he spurted thick ropes of semen down the snake's throat. Her snake-head arm gulped, and gulped, and gulped, and when the flow had finally died down to a trickle, the jaws closed and she sank fangs into the back of his balls.
There was pain as her fangs pierced his scrotal sac, then an overwhelming sense of euphoria like nothing he'd ever experienced before as her venom flooded his balls and diffused out into his body. Her poison took hold of his balls and made them slave to her hungers. They plumped up with fresh seed and deflated like bellows as Bate expelled a mighty blast of semen up into her fleshy tunnel.
And another.
And another.
And another.
Each was visible as a bulge travelling up her serpentine arm like freshly swallowed prey.
Each took with it a portion of Bate's soul.
The snake gulped and gulped until Bate was hollowed out... empty. Still the snake woman wasn't finished. The soul might have been the main prize, but she still had use for the meat left behind. The jaws unhinged on the lowermost snake head, the one that could be found at the end of her 'tail'. Bate's feet were engulfed, then his ankles, then his lower legs. The snake gulped.
Wednesday, March 02, 2016
Succubus Summoning 212, part 1
Yes, that title is correct. I finally got Phil's adventures moving again. Really sorry to all the people that have been waiting so long for this. There were reasons, but I'm not going to go into them as they're not particularly interesting. The plan is to update every Monday with a thousand words or so until the 201 arc is done. This may shift around a bit (as you may have noticed on account of this being Wednesday and not Monday) depending on where I am with the story, but I'm hoping serialising the final chapters like this will get me over the finish line.
On the off chance you don't know what I mean by either Phil or Succubus Summoning, it's a serial about a hapless student warlock who gets into various life-threatening messes after summoning some sexy succubi. The first volume of his sexy misadventures can be found in this lovely ebook, or you can read them in their slightly rougher form here on Literotica. A couple of years ago I hit a brick wall and the story stalled. Now I think it's time to finish the Succubus Summoning 201 arc off so I can put out a lovely ebook sequel and hopefully make enough money to write even more sexy succubus stories for you all.
Without further ado, here's the first 1K words of Succubus Summoning 212:
Succubus Summoning 212, part 1
Darvill had never been afraid of exams. In fact, during his schooldays, before he'd learned of this parallel world of magic and daemons, he'd even grown to relish them. Exams cut through all the bullshit. Exams were remorseless pieces of paper. Exams didn't care about who you were, who your daddy was, or who your friends were. They didn't give a shit about your station. They didn't give a fuck about what your little clique said and thought.
Darvill liked exams because he had control over the outcome. Ultimately that was what it was about—control. He couldn't control who his parents were. He couldn't control where he came from. But exams, he could control them. Knowledge, preparation, hard work—those were things he could control and exams respected them. Exams showed, unequivocally, where everyone stood in relation to everyone else. They took a group of people and churned them out as a ranked list.
And Darvill always made sure his name was at the top of that list.
Wargsnouts College was no different. Sure, the stakes were higher. No-one got their limbs ripped off and devoured for getting a math question wrong in the mundane world, but the principles were still the same—knowledge, preparation, hard work.
So when Darvill had found out about The Scrote's little surprise test he hadn't been fazed in the slightest. Truth be told, he relished it. The last few days had not gone well.
No, that was a massive understatement. The last few days had been fucking disastrous. So much for those plans of building a cabal to shake up the old order. He'd been arrogant and naïve, in a world that laughed at arrogance and destroyed the naïve.
At least it wasn't all for naught. He'd learn from this, had learned much already. He ruffled Calli-Scitu-Oc's eyestalks as the poly-Oc sat on his shoulder.
But the cost...
He grimaced at the thought. Dever, the others, gone. His friends—dead or worse.
No, he mustn't dwell on that. Control the things he could control. Knowledge, preparation, hard work.
Not everyone shared Darvill's phlegmatic attitude when it came to exams. Outside the test room he saw Rowling sitting at one of the tables with an untidy sprawl of notes and papers spread out in front of him. One of his succubi—Verdé, the one with the green hair—was sitting next to him and watching with a look of amusement on her face while he frantically shuffled through his notes.
One of Rowling's succubi...
Everyone thought Rowling had somehow managed to contract a pair of succubi. Darvill knew differently. He'd counted five in the castle in hell. They weren't your regular succubi either. Darvill had done a little research on his return to the college. He wondered if Rowling knew what he'd contracted. He wondered if anyone knew.
Verdé glanced up at Darvill with bright green eyes. She was stunningly beautiful, but so were plenty of other women. And once you had plenty of power behind you, you could screw all the beautiful women you could possibly want... and not worry about them sucking your soul out in the process.
"Last minute revision?" Darvill asked.
Rowling noticed Darvill and seemed both surprised and a little awkward when the other student sat down opposite him. Rowling was the sort that would feel guilty over what had happened, Darvill thought, not that he should.
If Darvill was a lesser person he supposed he could have held Rowling responsible for the deaths of the others, maybe even let a grudge fester while he secretly plotted revenge. Not that Darvill had the slightest intention of doing this. Wargsnouts was dangerous enough as it was without getting himself bogged down in senseless, petty feuds on top. They all knew what had happened to Emma Brennan.
"I wish I knew what this test was about," Rowling said. "I heard something about attunement, but that could cover anything we've studied in the last year and a half."
Darvill thought about Rowling. They had a lot in common. Rowling was outreach, like him. He'd come from a very ordinary background. He had talent. Darvill's original plan of a brand new cabal was in tatters and likely never to be mended, but the recent events had given him a fresh appreciation of just how dangerous this world was. Allies would be useful.
"We're on the fast track because we contracted our first daemons earlier than most other students. I imagine The Scrote wants to check we understand what those contracts mean."
Rowling looked sourly at his notes. "I was kinda hoping we'd be taught this before they tested us on it."
"Daemonic contracts are the test," Darvill said. "Look at the ones that came through."
He motioned over to a passing group of staff. As would be expected for a college like Wargsnouts, the staff were an eclectic bunch. High Magus R. L. Conley, the Magister of the Esoteric Conduit stood out the most with a flamboyant costume of black robes with silver trim and elaborate puffs at the wrists. No-one dressed quite like the high magus. Rumour was he'd been consulted by a horror filmmaker for input on the costume of their satanic high priest villain, and they'd ended up rejecting his ideas for being too extravagant. A masked nihmiratt rode on his shoulders like a small child. Its green eyes shone behind its mask of human skin.
At the opposite end of the spectrum was the Cartifax of Hell-Dimensional Topology, Brion Jacks. The trim, bald-headed man was dressed in a white vest and jogging bottoms. He looked like he'd just stepped out of the gym rather than a lecture on the geography of hell. A pyramid of flesh with a mouth in the centre—a minor nebrit—sat on his shoulder and gnashed its teeth together.
Walking with them was the treasury officer, Graeme Kennet. Kennet would have looked like a paunchy, middle-aged banker if it wasn't for the kappa-Oc perched on his head like a hat. It made the official look like an elderly punk rocker with long purple eyestalks for hair.
In such august company it would have been easy to overlook the fourth member entirely. Dr Will Pryce, the Zoomancer of the Cryptic Savagerium, was small, soft-spoken and innocuous. A ferocious-looking snikkersnakt prowled around his ankles.
Darvill could see Rowling didn't get it. For someone supposedly that smart, Rowling could be incredibly dim sometimes. Darvill was about to give him a helpful nudge when Calli-Scitu-Oc gave him a warning pinch on the shoulder.
Yes, yes, rules and all that, Darvill thought. Each must walk their own path.
Conscious he was not understanding something, Rowling went back to poring over his notes.
Darvill turned and spoke to Verdé directly. "Do you think he has anything to worry about?" he asked.
Verdé contemplated his question. "It's not his strongest area."
Her answer sent Rowling into another frenzy of note shuffling.
The door to the test room opened and one of The Scrote's succubi called out Darvill's name.
"Looks like it's my turn," Darvill said. "See you later."
Darvill left Rowling to his frantic—and unnecessary—last-minute revision and walked over and followed the succubus into the test room. He was expecting to see The Scrote, or maybe even Dodgy Lutwidge if The Scrote couldn't be assed to give the test himself. Neither was waiting for him in the room. Instead it was two more of The Scrote's succubi.
"We're here to give you your test," one said.
On the off chance you don't know what I mean by either Phil or Succubus Summoning, it's a serial about a hapless student warlock who gets into various life-threatening messes after summoning some sexy succubi. The first volume of his sexy misadventures can be found in this lovely ebook, or you can read them in their slightly rougher form here on Literotica. A couple of years ago I hit a brick wall and the story stalled. Now I think it's time to finish the Succubus Summoning 201 arc off so I can put out a lovely ebook sequel and hopefully make enough money to write even more sexy succubus stories for you all.
Without further ado, here's the first 1K words of Succubus Summoning 212:
Succubus Summoning 212, part 1
Darvill had never been afraid of exams. In fact, during his schooldays, before he'd learned of this parallel world of magic and daemons, he'd even grown to relish them. Exams cut through all the bullshit. Exams were remorseless pieces of paper. Exams didn't care about who you were, who your daddy was, or who your friends were. They didn't give a shit about your station. They didn't give a fuck about what your little clique said and thought.
Darvill liked exams because he had control over the outcome. Ultimately that was what it was about—control. He couldn't control who his parents were. He couldn't control where he came from. But exams, he could control them. Knowledge, preparation, hard work—those were things he could control and exams respected them. Exams showed, unequivocally, where everyone stood in relation to everyone else. They took a group of people and churned them out as a ranked list.
And Darvill always made sure his name was at the top of that list.
Wargsnouts College was no different. Sure, the stakes were higher. No-one got their limbs ripped off and devoured for getting a math question wrong in the mundane world, but the principles were still the same—knowledge, preparation, hard work.
So when Darvill had found out about The Scrote's little surprise test he hadn't been fazed in the slightest. Truth be told, he relished it. The last few days had not gone well.
No, that was a massive understatement. The last few days had been fucking disastrous. So much for those plans of building a cabal to shake up the old order. He'd been arrogant and naïve, in a world that laughed at arrogance and destroyed the naïve.
At least it wasn't all for naught. He'd learn from this, had learned much already. He ruffled Calli-Scitu-Oc's eyestalks as the poly-Oc sat on his shoulder.
But the cost...
He grimaced at the thought. Dever, the others, gone. His friends—dead or worse.
No, he mustn't dwell on that. Control the things he could control. Knowledge, preparation, hard work.
Not everyone shared Darvill's phlegmatic attitude when it came to exams. Outside the test room he saw Rowling sitting at one of the tables with an untidy sprawl of notes and papers spread out in front of him. One of his succubi—Verdé, the one with the green hair—was sitting next to him and watching with a look of amusement on her face while he frantically shuffled through his notes.
One of Rowling's succubi...
Everyone thought Rowling had somehow managed to contract a pair of succubi. Darvill knew differently. He'd counted five in the castle in hell. They weren't your regular succubi either. Darvill had done a little research on his return to the college. He wondered if Rowling knew what he'd contracted. He wondered if anyone knew.
Verdé glanced up at Darvill with bright green eyes. She was stunningly beautiful, but so were plenty of other women. And once you had plenty of power behind you, you could screw all the beautiful women you could possibly want... and not worry about them sucking your soul out in the process.
"Last minute revision?" Darvill asked.
Rowling noticed Darvill and seemed both surprised and a little awkward when the other student sat down opposite him. Rowling was the sort that would feel guilty over what had happened, Darvill thought, not that he should.
If Darvill was a lesser person he supposed he could have held Rowling responsible for the deaths of the others, maybe even let a grudge fester while he secretly plotted revenge. Not that Darvill had the slightest intention of doing this. Wargsnouts was dangerous enough as it was without getting himself bogged down in senseless, petty feuds on top. They all knew what had happened to Emma Brennan.
"I wish I knew what this test was about," Rowling said. "I heard something about attunement, but that could cover anything we've studied in the last year and a half."
Darvill thought about Rowling. They had a lot in common. Rowling was outreach, like him. He'd come from a very ordinary background. He had talent. Darvill's original plan of a brand new cabal was in tatters and likely never to be mended, but the recent events had given him a fresh appreciation of just how dangerous this world was. Allies would be useful.
"We're on the fast track because we contracted our first daemons earlier than most other students. I imagine The Scrote wants to check we understand what those contracts mean."
Rowling looked sourly at his notes. "I was kinda hoping we'd be taught this before they tested us on it."
"Daemonic contracts are the test," Darvill said. "Look at the ones that came through."
He motioned over to a passing group of staff. As would be expected for a college like Wargsnouts, the staff were an eclectic bunch. High Magus R. L. Conley, the Magister of the Esoteric Conduit stood out the most with a flamboyant costume of black robes with silver trim and elaborate puffs at the wrists. No-one dressed quite like the high magus. Rumour was he'd been consulted by a horror filmmaker for input on the costume of their satanic high priest villain, and they'd ended up rejecting his ideas for being too extravagant. A masked nihmiratt rode on his shoulders like a small child. Its green eyes shone behind its mask of human skin.
At the opposite end of the spectrum was the Cartifax of Hell-Dimensional Topology, Brion Jacks. The trim, bald-headed man was dressed in a white vest and jogging bottoms. He looked like he'd just stepped out of the gym rather than a lecture on the geography of hell. A pyramid of flesh with a mouth in the centre—a minor nebrit—sat on his shoulder and gnashed its teeth together.
Walking with them was the treasury officer, Graeme Kennet. Kennet would have looked like a paunchy, middle-aged banker if it wasn't for the kappa-Oc perched on his head like a hat. It made the official look like an elderly punk rocker with long purple eyestalks for hair.
In such august company it would have been easy to overlook the fourth member entirely. Dr Will Pryce, the Zoomancer of the Cryptic Savagerium, was small, soft-spoken and innocuous. A ferocious-looking snikkersnakt prowled around his ankles.
Darvill could see Rowling didn't get it. For someone supposedly that smart, Rowling could be incredibly dim sometimes. Darvill was about to give him a helpful nudge when Calli-Scitu-Oc gave him a warning pinch on the shoulder.
Yes, yes, rules and all that, Darvill thought. Each must walk their own path.
Conscious he was not understanding something, Rowling went back to poring over his notes.
Darvill turned and spoke to Verdé directly. "Do you think he has anything to worry about?" he asked.
Verdé contemplated his question. "It's not his strongest area."
Her answer sent Rowling into another frenzy of note shuffling.
The door to the test room opened and one of The Scrote's succubi called out Darvill's name.
"Looks like it's my turn," Darvill said. "See you later."
Darvill left Rowling to his frantic—and unnecessary—last-minute revision and walked over and followed the succubus into the test room. He was expecting to see The Scrote, or maybe even Dodgy Lutwidge if The Scrote couldn't be assed to give the test himself. Neither was waiting for him in the room. Instead it was two more of The Scrote's succubi.
"We're here to give you your test," one said.
Friday, February 26, 2016
H-space MGB Profile: Latexian Leechwoman
Name: Latexian Leechwoman
Type: Worm
Habitat: Lake Latex
Description:
In their unfed form they've been described as looking like a faceless fashion manikin painted in shiny black latex. Physically they have proportions similar to a catwalk model—slim, long legs—but exaggeratedly so, like an artist's stylised rendition of a beautiful woman.
When fed they balloon up to the point of resembling a morbidly obese woman.
They seem to possess rudimentary intelligence and as of yet there are no reports of any speaking.
Attack Strategy:
They use their alluring figures to draw men in close enough to embrace. At this point the leechwoman fastens themselves to their prey through suckers on the wrists and ankles. They possess multiple sucker mouths located where the mouth, nipples, naval and vulva would be on a human female, and use these to drain the bodily fluids. As with other hindigs, seminal fluid seems unusually prized and the leechwomen are extremely adept at using their sucker mouths to stimulate a man to ejaculation. After draining their host of semen they move onto sucking out all their blood. Even this isn't enough. The leechwoman secretes powerful enzymes into her prey that turns their insides into a liquid soup that is then sucked out and ingested. Thankfully, most victims will have already passed out through blood loss by this point.
Countermeasures:
Their rubbery skin is surprisingly tough to puncture or cut. Most low calibre bullets will not penetrate, especially if the leechwoman has just fed. They also have powerful regenerative capabilities.
They are slow moving, but once they have someone in their embrace and have attached their sucker mouths it's next to impossible to remove them before their victim is completely exsanguinated.
Threat Level:
Low to Moderate.
They are most dangerous to those traversing Lake Latex due to their ability to blend in with or hide under the surface.
Type: Worm
Habitat: Lake Latex
Description:
In their unfed form they've been described as looking like a faceless fashion manikin painted in shiny black latex. Physically they have proportions similar to a catwalk model—slim, long legs—but exaggeratedly so, like an artist's stylised rendition of a beautiful woman.
When fed they balloon up to the point of resembling a morbidly obese woman.
They seem to possess rudimentary intelligence and as of yet there are no reports of any speaking.
Attack Strategy:
They use their alluring figures to draw men in close enough to embrace. At this point the leechwoman fastens themselves to their prey through suckers on the wrists and ankles. They possess multiple sucker mouths located where the mouth, nipples, naval and vulva would be on a human female, and use these to drain the bodily fluids. As with other hindigs, seminal fluid seems unusually prized and the leechwomen are extremely adept at using their sucker mouths to stimulate a man to ejaculation. After draining their host of semen they move onto sucking out all their blood. Even this isn't enough. The leechwoman secretes powerful enzymes into her prey that turns their insides into a liquid soup that is then sucked out and ingested. Thankfully, most victims will have already passed out through blood loss by this point.
Countermeasures:
Their rubbery skin is surprisingly tough to puncture or cut. Most low calibre bullets will not penetrate, especially if the leechwoman has just fed. They also have powerful regenerative capabilities.
They are slow moving, but once they have someone in their embrace and have attached their sucker mouths it's next to impossible to remove them before their victim is completely exsanguinated.
Threat Level:
Low to Moderate.
They are most dangerous to those traversing Lake Latex due to their ability to blend in with or hide under the surface.
Thursday, February 25, 2016
H-space MGB Story: Latexian Leechwoman
PFC Stewart Peter Bate was on patrol when he saw the supermodel rise up out of Lake Latex.
Lake Latex was so named because it looked like a prehistoric god had poured a massive vat of molten rubber out over the land and left it there to solidify. Black and shiny, someone had said it reminded them of the fetish outfits of kinkier porn clips and the name had stuck. It wasn't a lake as such. Apparently the surface was solid enough that you could walk across it, although Bate had never tried. He'd touched it once and it had felt smooth and stretchy like rubber. Really weird.
And now there was a sex goddess rising up out of it. It didn't make sense—the 'lake' was supposed to be solid—but wow, what a figure. It would make a supermodel green with envy. It was the proportions. They were at that exact sweet spot where they were exaggerated enough to stand out, but not extreme enough to become grotesque. She had long long legs, a beautiful bubble-butt ass and a rack Bate could happily bury his face in. She was covered from head to foot in skintight latex, as if the surface of the Lake Latex had covered her in a second skin. Now it really did look like the shiny black latex of kinky porn clips.
The only flaw was her face, or rather the lack of one. That part of her body was shiny-smooth and featureless like an egg. It made her look like an animated manikin. Oddly, this didn't make her any less sexy, if anything it gave her beauty an unearthly perfection.
The latex-covered manikin turned her blank face to Bate. A pair of plump, sensual lips bloomed on that featureless mask like fruiting fungi. They pouted seductively and, hips swaying like a film-noir femme fatale, she sashayed out of the lake and walked up to him.
Bate could barely contain his excitement. His first hindig. He'd heard about them—the exotic H-indigenous, the inhabitants of H-space. They were total nymphomaniacs. No one knew why, given that it was the first time mankind had ever set foot on this plane. Some of the scientists had theories that the hindigs had psyche-empathic abilities—they instinctively knew what a person's sexual turn-ons were and could adapt to cater to them. In jarhead terms—they could make you come harder than an experienced Asian hooker.
Oh, he'd also heard about the dangers. Hindigs were intense. They could keep fucking a man until he died of exhaustion, or ran out of fluids, or his heart gave out from the strain. Yep, sex with them could be dangerous. But only if you were unprepared. Only if you were stupid.
Bate wasn't stupid.
Smiling broadly at the approaching woman, he took his clothes off and left them in a pile next to him. He was naked apart from his dog tags and a knife in his right hand. The knife was his insurance in case she got a little too frisky.
She stepped into his arms and he let his other hand slide all over her curves.
"You are so fine," he said.
That ass, he thought, as his hand slid all over its contours. It was like a shelf. You could rest a beer there. The rubber covering her like a second skin was smooth and warm to the touch. He hugged her body to his and was surprised at how light she was. It was like there was nothing inside this rubber suit but air. Hugging her was like squeezing a big, life-size balloon.
A real-life walking sex doll, he thought, for him.
...with a mouth like a hoover.
He went to kiss her and those big juicy lips of hers wrapped around his and fair sucked the air out of his lungs. Intense didn't even begin to cover it. The thought of those big soft lips wrapped around his cock and sucking just as hard had him harder than a piece of steel rebar.
That was until he found her pussy. His right arm was around her back while his left went wandering. He sent it down between her legs and found her vagina. At least he assumed it was her vagina. It was a moist hole with slick, fleshy walls. He sent his index and second fingers in on a recce and had barely penetrated her when a strong suction gripped them and pulled them in right to the last knuckle. The walls of her sex contracted and tugged on his fingers. It was like she wanted the rest of his hand and maybe his arm as well.
Fuck, he had to get his cock in there. This pussy was sucking so hard Bate really wanted to feel it try and suck his balls out through his cock.
It took a little work to extricate his fingers from her hungry suction. Then he placed hands on her hips and lifted her up. Again he marvelled at how light she was. She knew what to do. Her long legs wrapped around him and she slid down the stiff pole of his erection.
Then it started. The suction. Fuck, the suction.
This pussy was something else.
It really did feel like she was trying to suck his nuts out through his cock. It was incredible.
Muscular walls squeezed tightly around his penis and tugged with undulating waves of pressure. They weren't even fucking in the conventional sense. There was no back and forth motion. There didn't need to be. Her muscular pussy did everything. She stretched out his cock and gave it a thorough massaging as waves of contraction travelled up his shaft. The closest feeling he could compare this to was that time he'd got an epic tugjob from a sweet little Asian hottie in a Chinatown rub'n'tug joint, and that—as awesome as it had been—was still nowhere close to this.
He hugged her tighter and that's when he noticed something wasn't quite right. She didn't feel right. Her body felt squashy, unpleasantly so. The way it throbbed with the sucking motion of her pussy put Bate uncomfortably in mind of soft-bodied bugs—a giant maggot or leech.
He felt an odd, wet sensation at his nipple and pulled away.
Glancing down, he saw the latex had melted away to expose the breast—and nipple—beneath. Only it wasn't a nipple. Instead of a peak, Bate saw a livid red ring like a fleshy donut. The ring opened and worked hungrily. It opened out into a long gullet with glistening walls. It was a mouth, he realised, a mouth with swollen sucker lips.
Her other nipple was the same. Worse, this one had already battened onto his nipple. The curves of her tit pulsed as her nipple mouth sucked on him. A little dribble of red ran down his chest. Lower down he saw the latex melt away and reveal another red sucker mouth in her belly where her navel should be.
He looked back at her face. What he took for a luscious pair of full lips was revealed as another livid red sucker mouth. She leaned in hungrily for a kiss that was not a kiss. Bate tried to push her away with little success. While she was human in shape, she certainly wasn't human. Her body was flexible in ways no human body was and resisted his attempts to fend her off.
And she had his cock. He realised with a chill that what he thought was her pussy was likely another one of those hungry red sucker mouths. It didn't matter. She stretched out his erection and the muscular walls of her orifice bunched up and stimulated all the right nerve clusters. She gave a big suck and Bate was explosively coming before he even had a chance to think about holding it back.
The euphoric blast of climax made him temporarily forget where he was. That was opportunity enough for the leechwoman to hug him in an unbreakable embrace. Her arms and legs wrapped around his body and fastened themselves in place with strong suction disks. Her lips found and locked to his. Her nipple mouth battened onto his nipple. The mouth at her navel attached to his belly.
Bate was still ejaculating. The pulsing sucks of the mouth between her legs had fallen into synch with his own throbbing ejaculations. They reinforced and extended his orgasm, milking a constant stream of semen from his straining manhood. It wasn't just from his cock. Her body throbbed all over with the same rhythm and Bate felt the same sensation of release from all over his body... his mouth, his nipples, everywhere.
He also felt like he was weakening. Like she was draining his vitality along with his sexual fluids.
He recalled what they'd said about the hindigs—they'd give you mind-blowing orgasms, but don't let them go on for too long otherwise they'd end up fatal.
That's why Bate had the knife.
He was sitting now and she was supporting him rather than him carrying her. He stabbed down at her, thinking her soft skin would be easy to puncture. It wasn't. Her skin was elastic and flexible, but it was also tough like rubber. His knife dimpled the surface but was unable to penetrate.
Her body gave another powerful suck and the strength left Bate's fingers. He dropped the knife and sagged in her embrace as the leechwoman continued to throb and suck and draw out all of his fluids. Her body swelled as she filled up.
* * * *
SGT Stewart Peter Bate saw the black, vaguely human-shaped hindig on the shores of Lake Latex. A hindig, he realised, and one he hadn't seen or heard about before. Weren't they supposed to look like sexy women? This one resembled a bloated and obese woman dressed in skintight shiny black latex. He realised she had another soldier in her embrace. His head was lolling and his pallor pale and ghastly.
Bate opened fire. He was sure he'd hit the target, but the hindig didn't go down. He at least managed to drive it away as the black leech-thing dropped the soldier and slithered back into the black lake.
Bate ran up and saw he'd been too late to help this poor bastard. The body settled on the shore in a way that made Bate's insides heave. It was little more than a shapeless bag of human skin. It lay, bonelessly, on the rocks as though all the insides had been sucked out.
Bate didn't care about what he'd heard. That did not look a good way to go.
Lake Latex was so named because it looked like a prehistoric god had poured a massive vat of molten rubber out over the land and left it there to solidify. Black and shiny, someone had said it reminded them of the fetish outfits of kinkier porn clips and the name had stuck. It wasn't a lake as such. Apparently the surface was solid enough that you could walk across it, although Bate had never tried. He'd touched it once and it had felt smooth and stretchy like rubber. Really weird.
And now there was a sex goddess rising up out of it. It didn't make sense—the 'lake' was supposed to be solid—but wow, what a figure. It would make a supermodel green with envy. It was the proportions. They were at that exact sweet spot where they were exaggerated enough to stand out, but not extreme enough to become grotesque. She had long long legs, a beautiful bubble-butt ass and a rack Bate could happily bury his face in. She was covered from head to foot in skintight latex, as if the surface of the Lake Latex had covered her in a second skin. Now it really did look like the shiny black latex of kinky porn clips.
The only flaw was her face, or rather the lack of one. That part of her body was shiny-smooth and featureless like an egg. It made her look like an animated manikin. Oddly, this didn't make her any less sexy, if anything it gave her beauty an unearthly perfection.
The latex-covered manikin turned her blank face to Bate. A pair of plump, sensual lips bloomed on that featureless mask like fruiting fungi. They pouted seductively and, hips swaying like a film-noir femme fatale, she sashayed out of the lake and walked up to him.
Bate could barely contain his excitement. His first hindig. He'd heard about them—the exotic H-indigenous, the inhabitants of H-space. They were total nymphomaniacs. No one knew why, given that it was the first time mankind had ever set foot on this plane. Some of the scientists had theories that the hindigs had psyche-empathic abilities—they instinctively knew what a person's sexual turn-ons were and could adapt to cater to them. In jarhead terms—they could make you come harder than an experienced Asian hooker.
Oh, he'd also heard about the dangers. Hindigs were intense. They could keep fucking a man until he died of exhaustion, or ran out of fluids, or his heart gave out from the strain. Yep, sex with them could be dangerous. But only if you were unprepared. Only if you were stupid.
Bate wasn't stupid.
Smiling broadly at the approaching woman, he took his clothes off and left them in a pile next to him. He was naked apart from his dog tags and a knife in his right hand. The knife was his insurance in case she got a little too frisky.
She stepped into his arms and he let his other hand slide all over her curves.
"You are so fine," he said.
That ass, he thought, as his hand slid all over its contours. It was like a shelf. You could rest a beer there. The rubber covering her like a second skin was smooth and warm to the touch. He hugged her body to his and was surprised at how light she was. It was like there was nothing inside this rubber suit but air. Hugging her was like squeezing a big, life-size balloon.
A real-life walking sex doll, he thought, for him.
...with a mouth like a hoover.
He went to kiss her and those big juicy lips of hers wrapped around his and fair sucked the air out of his lungs. Intense didn't even begin to cover it. The thought of those big soft lips wrapped around his cock and sucking just as hard had him harder than a piece of steel rebar.
That was until he found her pussy. His right arm was around her back while his left went wandering. He sent it down between her legs and found her vagina. At least he assumed it was her vagina. It was a moist hole with slick, fleshy walls. He sent his index and second fingers in on a recce and had barely penetrated her when a strong suction gripped them and pulled them in right to the last knuckle. The walls of her sex contracted and tugged on his fingers. It was like she wanted the rest of his hand and maybe his arm as well.
Fuck, he had to get his cock in there. This pussy was sucking so hard Bate really wanted to feel it try and suck his balls out through his cock.
It took a little work to extricate his fingers from her hungry suction. Then he placed hands on her hips and lifted her up. Again he marvelled at how light she was. She knew what to do. Her long legs wrapped around him and she slid down the stiff pole of his erection.
Then it started. The suction. Fuck, the suction.
This pussy was something else.
It really did feel like she was trying to suck his nuts out through his cock. It was incredible.
Muscular walls squeezed tightly around his penis and tugged with undulating waves of pressure. They weren't even fucking in the conventional sense. There was no back and forth motion. There didn't need to be. Her muscular pussy did everything. She stretched out his cock and gave it a thorough massaging as waves of contraction travelled up his shaft. The closest feeling he could compare this to was that time he'd got an epic tugjob from a sweet little Asian hottie in a Chinatown rub'n'tug joint, and that—as awesome as it had been—was still nowhere close to this.
He hugged her tighter and that's when he noticed something wasn't quite right. She didn't feel right. Her body felt squashy, unpleasantly so. The way it throbbed with the sucking motion of her pussy put Bate uncomfortably in mind of soft-bodied bugs—a giant maggot or leech.
He felt an odd, wet sensation at his nipple and pulled away.
Glancing down, he saw the latex had melted away to expose the breast—and nipple—beneath. Only it wasn't a nipple. Instead of a peak, Bate saw a livid red ring like a fleshy donut. The ring opened and worked hungrily. It opened out into a long gullet with glistening walls. It was a mouth, he realised, a mouth with swollen sucker lips.
Her other nipple was the same. Worse, this one had already battened onto his nipple. The curves of her tit pulsed as her nipple mouth sucked on him. A little dribble of red ran down his chest. Lower down he saw the latex melt away and reveal another red sucker mouth in her belly where her navel should be.
He looked back at her face. What he took for a luscious pair of full lips was revealed as another livid red sucker mouth. She leaned in hungrily for a kiss that was not a kiss. Bate tried to push her away with little success. While she was human in shape, she certainly wasn't human. Her body was flexible in ways no human body was and resisted his attempts to fend her off.
And she had his cock. He realised with a chill that what he thought was her pussy was likely another one of those hungry red sucker mouths. It didn't matter. She stretched out his erection and the muscular walls of her orifice bunched up and stimulated all the right nerve clusters. She gave a big suck and Bate was explosively coming before he even had a chance to think about holding it back.
The euphoric blast of climax made him temporarily forget where he was. That was opportunity enough for the leechwoman to hug him in an unbreakable embrace. Her arms and legs wrapped around his body and fastened themselves in place with strong suction disks. Her lips found and locked to his. Her nipple mouth battened onto his nipple. The mouth at her navel attached to his belly.
Bate was still ejaculating. The pulsing sucks of the mouth between her legs had fallen into synch with his own throbbing ejaculations. They reinforced and extended his orgasm, milking a constant stream of semen from his straining manhood. It wasn't just from his cock. Her body throbbed all over with the same rhythm and Bate felt the same sensation of release from all over his body... his mouth, his nipples, everywhere.
He also felt like he was weakening. Like she was draining his vitality along with his sexual fluids.
He recalled what they'd said about the hindigs—they'd give you mind-blowing orgasms, but don't let them go on for too long otherwise they'd end up fatal.
That's why Bate had the knife.
He was sitting now and she was supporting him rather than him carrying her. He stabbed down at her, thinking her soft skin would be easy to puncture. It wasn't. Her skin was elastic and flexible, but it was also tough like rubber. His knife dimpled the surface but was unable to penetrate.
Her body gave another powerful suck and the strength left Bate's fingers. He dropped the knife and sagged in her embrace as the leechwoman continued to throb and suck and draw out all of his fluids. Her body swelled as she filled up.
* * * *
SGT Stewart Peter Bate saw the black, vaguely human-shaped hindig on the shores of Lake Latex. A hindig, he realised, and one he hadn't seen or heard about before. Weren't they supposed to look like sexy women? This one resembled a bloated and obese woman dressed in skintight shiny black latex. He realised she had another soldier in her embrace. His head was lolling and his pallor pale and ghastly.
Bate opened fire. He was sure he'd hit the target, but the hindig didn't go down. He at least managed to drive it away as the black leech-thing dropped the soldier and slithered back into the black lake.
Bate ran up and saw he'd been too late to help this poor bastard. The body settled on the shore in a way that made Bate's insides heave. It was little more than a shapeless bag of human skin. It lay, bonelessly, on the rocks as though all the insides had been sucked out.
Bate didn't care about what he'd heard. That did not look a good way to go.
Monday, February 22, 2016
Hentai Game Review: Monster Musume Hyakuran vol.1
After a sort of drought in good monster girl eroge we get both a new Violated Hero and a new release from Toro Toro Resistance (the person/people behind Monster Girl Quest) in quick succession. Violated Hero 6 is currently queued up on my hard drive and I'll be looking to give that the Let's Play treatment on the blog as soon as I get around to it.
In the meantime there's this new release from Toro Toro Resistance: Monster Musume Hyakuran vol. 1.
My Japanese is non-existent, so Monster Musume Hyakuran == Monster Daughter/Girl Tales/Collection?
Anyway, calling this a game is rather stretching the term. Don't get your hopes up that this is a new Monster Girl Quest or Monmusu Quest: Paradox. In music terms this release strikes me as being like one of those albums/EPs of B-sides and previously cut material bands put out to tide them over between albums.
Monster Musume Hyakuran vol.1 is a collection of Bad End scenes featuring femdom (and frequently carnivorous) monster girls. If you remember the non-fight scenes in Monster Girl Quest Chapter 3, well MMH vol.1 is those x33 (as in 33 separate encounters, not 33 times more squick, because 33 times the squick of Catoblepas Girl is... a challenge beyond even my little black cells to visualise, maybe). There are some branching points along of the lines of "Would you like to be digested to mush?" or "Would you like all your sperm/life sucked out?", but mostly these are short stories given the Visual Novel treatment with art and sound effects.
Some of the tales are connected. There is a long story that will be very familiar to anyone that remembers Resident Evil (Biohazard) 1 & 2, with pornified, monster-girl-arized versions of monsters from those games (and some not quite so monster-girl-arized – Plant 42!). This was a little confusing to me at first as the first link from the monster girl encyclopaedia entry would take me to the start of that story rather than to the individual scene for that girl.
I should add at this point that everything is in Japanese on the off chance someone buys the product by mistake and ends up with something that doesn't make sense to them. MMH vol.1 looks like it uses the same engine as the original Monster Girl Quest and plays reasonably nice with the standard auto-translation tools (If you're unfamiliar with how these work, I normally point people here for a full guide – although they are less effective nowadays given that some of the translation websites such as Google Translate blocks Translation Aggregator). Toro Toro Resistance's work is fairly popular out in the West, so I wouldn't be surprised if some brave soul gets around to putting out an English translation at some point. Maybe Dargoth, if the poor bloke isn't already destroyed by Monmusu Quest: Paradox.
The art and Bad End scenes are similar in quality to TTR's previous games – variable, but diverse and imaginative enough that you're likely to find something that hit's the spot. Yes, vore is fairly ubiquitous, but can be avoided if that's not your thing. As good as TTR is at producing this material at this point, I'd like to see them push on now and maybe see if they can work some animation into the scenes. Currently the ROBF series* of monster girl battlefuck games does this to good effect, but are difficult to get and play outside of Japan because their creator has a serious hang-up (not entirely unjustified) with Westerners and piracy.
So, is Monster Musume Hyakuran vol.1 worth buying? This depends on what you found enjoyable from the original Monster Girl Quest series. If you liked that series for the epic storyline and the cute interactions with Alice and the other characters, but largely skipped the Bad End scenes because you found them squicky, then MMH vol.1 might not be for you. However, if you ploughed through that series and relished every imaginative and (usually) sexy fate Luka suffered at the hands of the various amorous (and sometimes hungry!) monster girls, MMH vol.1 is 33 brand new Bad End scenarios that will likely keep you entertained for some time.
(*As an aside, I would love to do a Let's Play series on one of the ROBF games here, but there's virtually no chance of this happening as I'm a) unable to legally purchase them, b) would be unable to get through the Japanese 'gatekeeper' puzzles designed to keep out foreign players, and c) would likely get DMCA-ed to oblivion if I tried. This is a real shame as the ROBF series is very very good from what I've seen of it.)
In the meantime there's this new release from Toro Toro Resistance: Monster Musume Hyakuran vol. 1.
My Japanese is non-existent, so Monster Musume Hyakuran == Monster Daughter/Girl Tales/Collection?
Anyway, calling this a game is rather stretching the term. Don't get your hopes up that this is a new Monster Girl Quest or Monmusu Quest: Paradox. In music terms this release strikes me as being like one of those albums/EPs of B-sides and previously cut material bands put out to tide them over between albums.
Monster Musume Hyakuran vol.1 is a collection of Bad End scenes featuring femdom (and frequently carnivorous) monster girls. If you remember the non-fight scenes in Monster Girl Quest Chapter 3, well MMH vol.1 is those x33 (as in 33 separate encounters, not 33 times more squick, because 33 times the squick of Catoblepas Girl is... a challenge beyond even my little black cells to visualise, maybe). There are some branching points along of the lines of "Would you like to be digested to mush?" or "Would you like all your sperm/life sucked out?", but mostly these are short stories given the Visual Novel treatment with art and sound effects.
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| If a lamia asks you if you want to be her cuddle toy, the correct answer is "yes". |
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| WTF Toro Toro Resistance! I think you forgot the girl in monster girl for this one. |
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| Become a guinea pig at a sex toy testing facility! |
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| Even the small animation in this scene is quite effective... until you realise what she's doing with that strange orifice... |
(*As an aside, I would love to do a Let's Play series on one of the ROBF games here, but there's virtually no chance of this happening as I'm a) unable to legally purchase them, b) would be unable to get through the Japanese 'gatekeeper' puzzles designed to keep out foreign players, and c) would likely get DMCA-ed to oblivion if I tried. This is a real shame as the ROBF series is very very good from what I've seen of it.)
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