Name: Venus Mantrap
Type: Plant (or possibly something else—mollusc?—masquerading as a plant)
Habitat: Jungle. Dense Vegetation.
Description:
Resembles a single trap of a Venus flytrap, but on a considerably larger scale. The humanoid part, which nearly always takes the form of a beautiful naked woman, resides between the leaves and is connected to the rest of the plant via a fibrous membrane running down the spine. Catapult muscles connecting the humanoid portion to the leaf walls allow the plant to cast her out from between the leaves in order to attract and catch prey.
While the outside of the leaves is extremely hard, the inside is soft and padded and feels like flesh.
Attack Strategy:
Her humanoid part functions as both a lure and centre of intelligence for the organism. She is part of a muscular apparatus that can be projected outside of the leaves in order to capture prey. Captured men (and sometimes women) are pulled back between the leaves, which then close around them.
Once her prey is caught between her padded leaves the Venus mantrap will strip them, wrap her arms and legs around them, and then get them aroused enough to have sex with her. This is aided by various aromatic and aphrodisiac oils secreted through her skin.
She stimulates her captive to multiple climaxes and then, after no more sexual fluids can be drawn from their body, she disgorges a stew of various enzymes over them. The primary component is a digestive enzyme to liquefy flesh and soft tissues. Mercifully, this digestive fluid also contains substances with both strong analgesic and aphrodisiac properties. This instils a state of heightened sensual bliss in the victim so that they are unaware of what's happening to them.
(Why? Why care? Why not just catch and digest? The one specimen we were able to interrogate said it was important that they take their prey to the pinnacle of sexual ecstasy and keep them there as they begin to digest them, but why, why, why?)
Once digestion is done the Venus mantrap will open her leaves and use the catapult muscles to fling the indigestible material such as bones far from the main plant.
Countermeasures:
The Venus mantrap, being a plant*, is stationary. She can only capture prey that stray within a narrow arc that extends from the trap opening to a distance approximately equal to the depth of the mantrap. As long as you stay outside of that arc, the mantrap can't grab you.
*(Maybe, I'm not convinced on this. The outer shell and inner flesh seem to be more in keeping with some kind of enormous shellfish. Mimicry?)
Should one of your party be caught and brought between the leaves then I'm afraid the prognosis is not good. It would take heavy earth-moving machinery to prise the leaves (shell?) open, heavy earth-moving machinery which we do not currently have access to. The outer surface is impervious to all but high explosives, and using them would likely kill her captive in the process.
The soft interior is vulnerable, but if the Venus mantrap perceives herself to be under threat she will simply retreat between and close her leaves.
Avoidance is the best strategy here. Be vigilant and don't step into her capture arc.
Threat Level:
Low**
**upgraded to Moderate. Our men are still straying into her capture arc even when forewarned. There might be an additional pheromonal or similar component to the lure that is drawing people in despite the warnings.
Friday, March 11, 2016
Thursday, March 10, 2016
H-space MGB Story: Venus Mantrap
PFC Stewart Peter Bate would have given the giant flytrap leaves a wide berth had he not heard noises coming from between them.
"Hello? Is there someone in there?"
What were those sounds? Bate heard soft moans and sighs. They were more like sounds of sexual activity than moans of pain. It reminded him of a hotel room he'd stopped in once, where he'd heard muffled sounds coming through the wall and had wondered if the sounds were coming from the next room's TV or its occupants. And, just like that time back in the hotel room, Bate felt a burning curiosity to see what was making those noises.
The leaf was green and enormous. It was about the same height as a two-story house and about the same length as an average garage. It was roughly semi-circular in shape, with a fringe of green spines pointing inwards towards an identical leaf just behind the first. It reminded Bate of a Venus flytrap, but on a vastly larger scale. Bate wondered what flying prey this plant caught—helicopters?
The giant leaves did not look out of place. The jungle was full of alien vegetation because it was well... alien. It was also hot... and humid as hell. The sweat poured off Bate. It soaked into his uniform and collected in his underwear. Bate wanted to give his balls and ass a good scratch, but he knew the itch would only get worse when he stopped.
He heard the noises again—soft slithering sounds punctuated with muffled sighs.
And now Bate's junk was itching for a different reason.
He rubbed a hand across his brow. Maybe it was something in the air. The whole damn jungle felt like it was bursting with fecundity. Strangely, they'd seen no sign of any animal life since entering it—no birds, no monkeys, not even any insects. Just plants, lots and lots of plants.
Gingerly, Bate touched the side of the flytrap leaf. It was hard... shell-like. Metal-like, even. It was like putting his hand on the hull of a battleship. He could still hear those muffled, strangely erotic sounds coming from the other side.
He had to know what was making those sounds.
He walked around to look at the leaves edge on. At this angle it really did look like the entrance to a Venus flytrap. The leaves were padded on the inside and livid red in color. Green spines bridged the gap like bars. Between the two leaves was darkness. It was within that darkness the noises were coming from.
The leaves shimmered in the jungle haze. For a brief moment Bate thought he was staring at a gigantic vulva.
It was easy for Bate to investigate. All he needed to do was duck under one of those teeth-like tines.
Yeah right, like he was that fucking stupid. No way was he stepping between those jaws. Not even if the hottest starlet in Hollywood was getting herself off at the far end. In fact, he was already standing a little too close to them than was comfortable. He knew Venus flytraps on Earth were passive, but that was Earth and this was not Earth. For all he knew those jaws might snap up anything straying too close like a turtle snapping up a frog.
He backed away to the far side of the clearing. His eyes narrowed as he tried to pierce the shade between the two monstrous leaves.
There was someone or something in there, he was sure of it. Bate took out an electric torch, switched it on and shone it between the flytrap leaves.
He was too far back. The torch light didn't penetrate the gloom very far. Wait, there was something back there. He caught a glimpse of pink skin... a leg, an arm.
Attracted by the light, the something got up and walked to the edge of the leaves. Bate saw it was a woman. At first he thought she was naked, but on closer inspection her skin didn't look right. The color was bordering on the unnatural and she looked a little too... moist. It looked like she was wearing a second skin over her own that was too loose for her body. Or she'd been rolling around in wet pink mud.
She smiled at Bate and posed for him on the other side of the green bars like a hooker trying to lure in a john. And to be fair to her, she had the moves. Her breasts were large and lovably squishable. The rest of her had all the curves while still being slim enough to tick all the boxes. Her movements were a slow, sensual belly dance that heated Bate's blood up more than the sweltering jungle around him.
She beckoned to Bate and urged him to come to her. There was no doubt what she wanted from him, and even if there was, she made it more than clear in the way her other finger was trailing between the exposed labia of her pussy.
The leaves started to pull apart like great iron gates opening. The maybe-naked girl threw her arms out to Bate as if imploring him to charge across the clearing and gather her up in his arms.
Bate was sorely tempted. She had a really sexy bod, and he was between girlfriends so he didn't have to worry about cheating on anyone back home.
He held his ground.
Some sense was tingling. She was too pink. And a weird sort of pink at that, and wet... moist... It was like she'd been turned inside out without any of the obvious grossness you'd expect from seeing someone with their skin turned inside out. And there was still those great flytrap leaves. They continued to swing open.
Still with her arms outstretched, the woman receded away from him as though she was bound to each leaf and the plant opening up was pulling her tethers taut.
Bate's heart quickened in his chest. It felt like something precious had been dangled before him and was now being taken away.
He didn't move forward, but he didn't move away either.
What happened next happened too fast for Bate to properly register. The two great flytrap leaves whooshed together like bellows, there was a blur of motion and the pink, maybe-naked girl was standing right in front of him. Bate was too surprised to react as she grabbed his collar, pulled his face forwards and pressed her lips against his in a kiss. Her other arm looped around his lower back.
Bate barely had a chance to register a hot woman was kissing him when his feet left the ground and he was propelled forwards as if shot from a catapult. He shot across the clearing and between the flytrap leaves until his forward momentum was stopped by the soft, yielding body of the pink girl.
It was a good way to be brought to a halt—jammed up against the naked body of a hot woman. She hadn't stopped kissing him the whole time. Her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands slipped under his shirt to roam all over his chest and then around his back. Bate got into it as well. He slid his hands down her smooth, sweat-slick curves and returned her kiss with the same ardor.
He wanted to put his arms around her as well, but no matter how he tried to worm his hands between her back and the fleshy wall she was pressed up against he kept encountering some kind of stretchy barrier that blocked his way. It was as if there was no gap at all and the woman's body merged seamlessly into the spongy wall behind them.
While Bate was trying to get his arms around his new companion, shadows fell across him as the giant flytrap leaves smoothly swung back together. He was too engrossed in exploring the body of his new love to notice. She was coated in some kind of aromatic oil that made it so easy for his hands to slide over her lush contours.
He was also too engrossed to notice he was now naked with no recollection of how this had occurred. In a fanciful turn of imagination he wondered if she'd pulled him across the clearing so fast she'd yanked him right out of his clothes as though he was a character in a Looney Tunes cartoon. In reality his uniform had rotted away on contact with the oils covering her body and sloughed off him like a reptile's discarded skin.
It took the padded interior walls of the flytrap leaves pressing up against his flanks to remind him where he was. He glanced up and saw the light from outside was restricted to narrow bars filtering between the tines on the edge of the leaves. It looked a long way away.
"Are we safe here?" Bate asked. "This plant looks like it might be carnivorous."
The pink girl kissed him on the cheek.
"This plant is me," she said to him in perfect English. "And now I have you caught, pinned between my padded leaves."
Her arms and legs slithered between the padded walls and Bate's body as she wrapped her limbs around him and drew him close.
"And you know what happens to those that get caught," the pink girl said.
"They're fucked," Bate said.
With horror, he realized he was fucked. The walls had closed in so much he was wedged between them and couldn't move. He wondered what the fluids covering her body—and now his!—really were. They'd already rotted away his uniform.
"That's right," she said. "We fuck... and fuck... and fuck."
Bate's sudden fearful revelation hadn't yet had a chance to percolate down to his boner. Her oil-slick limbs roaming all over his naked body had perked his dick up into an interested erection. She pressed up against him. His erect cock pushed between two fleshy lips and entered her warm sex. She sank down his shaft and he pushed up deeper into her heat and moistness.
This wasn't the fucked Bate had envisioned, but he was not about to complain. Having sex with an alien girl was an infinite improvement over being eaten by one. And she was tight, really tight. Bate hadn't felt pussy as tight as this since high school.
She could also do things with her pussy Bate hadn't even realized were possible. The walls tightened around his member, then relaxed. Tightened... then relaxed. Tightened... then relaxed.
It was a different kind of stimulation. Wedged between the padded walls and tangled up in her limbs, there was no way for Bate to generate thrust in either direction. Not that he needed to, the contractions of her vagina pulled on him with gentle tugs. It wasn't just her sex—her thighs, her body, the padded walls, all squeezed him with the same rhythm.
It was... amazing.
"Water me with your seed," the pink girl said.
Bate hoped she was ready for a flood. Those little squeezes of her pussy kept changing rhythm. Every time he thought she was about to take him over the edge, she slowed down and let his climax build up and up until he knew the final release was going to be monstrous.
The padded walls sealed up around him until he was contained within them in his own little intimate pocket. It didn't concern him. He'd ceased thinking of it as a plant. It felt more like he and a sexy playmate had been wedged between two soft mattresses in a kinky brothel. Her body and the walls throbbed around him to the same sensual rhythm.
"Water you, I'm going to drown you!" Bate laughed.
She smiled at him. Her pussy squeezed and tugged. Faster now. There would be no coming back from the edge this time. Bate used what little degree of freedom he had to press his hips up against her and groan as he finally erupted. It was monstrous, a gush of release like nothing he'd ever experienced before.
Here too was more proof that she was more than the hot little slut wrapped around him. The pulsing tunnel of her sex was long and terminated not in a womb but a large chamber behind and beneath her body. That chamber expanded and Bate felt the suction pulling at him. He erupted again—a second orgasm in its own right and even stronger than the first. It emptied his balls as fast as if she'd dropped a hose in his tank and siphoned of all his gas, leaving him a twitching wreck of jittery misfiring neurons.
A happy twitching wreck of jittery misfiring neurons. That was... satisfaction.
"That was amazing," he said. "And to think I thought you were a carnivorous plant."
"Oh, but I am a carnivorous plant, my dear," the Venus mantrap said.
She pressed her lips against Bate's. Her throat worked and she spewed a torrent of liquid down Bate's throat. Within the fluid mix was a complex anesthetic compound that drugged Bate and shut down his pain receptors. This was a small mercy on the part of the Venus mantrap. The majority of the liquid was a highly corrosive acid that melted through Bate's flesh like boiling water through soft butter. Some ate through his throat and flooded his chest. The rest flooded into his central cavity and liquefied his internal organs. Bate didn't even feel it. Within the digestive acids was another exotic drug—a potent aphrodisiac—that, together with the pulsing motions of her vagina, triggered another explosive climax from Bate. His last conscious moment was the most intense burst of pleasure he'd ever experienced, even as his meat sloughed off his bones and he spurted his own liquefied innards into her pulsing vagina.
The mantrap drank him down with great lusty gulps.
* * * *
PFC Stewart Peter Bate caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see a pink figure shooting forwards as if on a bungee rope. In the brief moment he had to see her, Bate thought he was looking at an attractive and naked young woman. At the apex of her forward motion she opened her arms and threw a collection of debris out across the jungle. Then, just as fast as she'd appeared, she was reeled back between a pair of giant green flytrap leaves that closed around her like heavy iron gates.
The trash she'd jettisoned rained down through the foliage to the right of Bate.
Was that part of a human skeleton?
Bate went over to investigate and put his hand to his mouth as he made the horrifying discovery of a human skull and part of a ribcage lying against the base of a tree. Both lay in puddles of vile green ichor. Bate had a horrible feeling he was looking at the remains of one of his squad, but he couldn't for the life of him tell who it was.
"Hello? Is there someone in there?"
What were those sounds? Bate heard soft moans and sighs. They were more like sounds of sexual activity than moans of pain. It reminded him of a hotel room he'd stopped in once, where he'd heard muffled sounds coming through the wall and had wondered if the sounds were coming from the next room's TV or its occupants. And, just like that time back in the hotel room, Bate felt a burning curiosity to see what was making those noises.
The leaf was green and enormous. It was about the same height as a two-story house and about the same length as an average garage. It was roughly semi-circular in shape, with a fringe of green spines pointing inwards towards an identical leaf just behind the first. It reminded Bate of a Venus flytrap, but on a vastly larger scale. Bate wondered what flying prey this plant caught—helicopters?
The giant leaves did not look out of place. The jungle was full of alien vegetation because it was well... alien. It was also hot... and humid as hell. The sweat poured off Bate. It soaked into his uniform and collected in his underwear. Bate wanted to give his balls and ass a good scratch, but he knew the itch would only get worse when he stopped.
He heard the noises again—soft slithering sounds punctuated with muffled sighs.
And now Bate's junk was itching for a different reason.
He rubbed a hand across his brow. Maybe it was something in the air. The whole damn jungle felt like it was bursting with fecundity. Strangely, they'd seen no sign of any animal life since entering it—no birds, no monkeys, not even any insects. Just plants, lots and lots of plants.
Gingerly, Bate touched the side of the flytrap leaf. It was hard... shell-like. Metal-like, even. It was like putting his hand on the hull of a battleship. He could still hear those muffled, strangely erotic sounds coming from the other side.
He had to know what was making those sounds.
He walked around to look at the leaves edge on. At this angle it really did look like the entrance to a Venus flytrap. The leaves were padded on the inside and livid red in color. Green spines bridged the gap like bars. Between the two leaves was darkness. It was within that darkness the noises were coming from.
The leaves shimmered in the jungle haze. For a brief moment Bate thought he was staring at a gigantic vulva.
It was easy for Bate to investigate. All he needed to do was duck under one of those teeth-like tines.
Yeah right, like he was that fucking stupid. No way was he stepping between those jaws. Not even if the hottest starlet in Hollywood was getting herself off at the far end. In fact, he was already standing a little too close to them than was comfortable. He knew Venus flytraps on Earth were passive, but that was Earth and this was not Earth. For all he knew those jaws might snap up anything straying too close like a turtle snapping up a frog.
He backed away to the far side of the clearing. His eyes narrowed as he tried to pierce the shade between the two monstrous leaves.
There was someone or something in there, he was sure of it. Bate took out an electric torch, switched it on and shone it between the flytrap leaves.
He was too far back. The torch light didn't penetrate the gloom very far. Wait, there was something back there. He caught a glimpse of pink skin... a leg, an arm.
Attracted by the light, the something got up and walked to the edge of the leaves. Bate saw it was a woman. At first he thought she was naked, but on closer inspection her skin didn't look right. The color was bordering on the unnatural and she looked a little too... moist. It looked like she was wearing a second skin over her own that was too loose for her body. Or she'd been rolling around in wet pink mud.
She smiled at Bate and posed for him on the other side of the green bars like a hooker trying to lure in a john. And to be fair to her, she had the moves. Her breasts were large and lovably squishable. The rest of her had all the curves while still being slim enough to tick all the boxes. Her movements were a slow, sensual belly dance that heated Bate's blood up more than the sweltering jungle around him.
She beckoned to Bate and urged him to come to her. There was no doubt what she wanted from him, and even if there was, she made it more than clear in the way her other finger was trailing between the exposed labia of her pussy.
The leaves started to pull apart like great iron gates opening. The maybe-naked girl threw her arms out to Bate as if imploring him to charge across the clearing and gather her up in his arms.
Bate was sorely tempted. She had a really sexy bod, and he was between girlfriends so he didn't have to worry about cheating on anyone back home.
He held his ground.
Some sense was tingling. She was too pink. And a weird sort of pink at that, and wet... moist... It was like she'd been turned inside out without any of the obvious grossness you'd expect from seeing someone with their skin turned inside out. And there was still those great flytrap leaves. They continued to swing open.
Still with her arms outstretched, the woman receded away from him as though she was bound to each leaf and the plant opening up was pulling her tethers taut.
Bate's heart quickened in his chest. It felt like something precious had been dangled before him and was now being taken away.
He didn't move forward, but he didn't move away either.
What happened next happened too fast for Bate to properly register. The two great flytrap leaves whooshed together like bellows, there was a blur of motion and the pink, maybe-naked girl was standing right in front of him. Bate was too surprised to react as she grabbed his collar, pulled his face forwards and pressed her lips against his in a kiss. Her other arm looped around his lower back.
Bate barely had a chance to register a hot woman was kissing him when his feet left the ground and he was propelled forwards as if shot from a catapult. He shot across the clearing and between the flytrap leaves until his forward momentum was stopped by the soft, yielding body of the pink girl.
It was a good way to be brought to a halt—jammed up against the naked body of a hot woman. She hadn't stopped kissing him the whole time. Her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands slipped under his shirt to roam all over his chest and then around his back. Bate got into it as well. He slid his hands down her smooth, sweat-slick curves and returned her kiss with the same ardor.
He wanted to put his arms around her as well, but no matter how he tried to worm his hands between her back and the fleshy wall she was pressed up against he kept encountering some kind of stretchy barrier that blocked his way. It was as if there was no gap at all and the woman's body merged seamlessly into the spongy wall behind them.
While Bate was trying to get his arms around his new companion, shadows fell across him as the giant flytrap leaves smoothly swung back together. He was too engrossed in exploring the body of his new love to notice. She was coated in some kind of aromatic oil that made it so easy for his hands to slide over her lush contours.
He was also too engrossed to notice he was now naked with no recollection of how this had occurred. In a fanciful turn of imagination he wondered if she'd pulled him across the clearing so fast she'd yanked him right out of his clothes as though he was a character in a Looney Tunes cartoon. In reality his uniform had rotted away on contact with the oils covering her body and sloughed off him like a reptile's discarded skin.
It took the padded interior walls of the flytrap leaves pressing up against his flanks to remind him where he was. He glanced up and saw the light from outside was restricted to narrow bars filtering between the tines on the edge of the leaves. It looked a long way away.
"Are we safe here?" Bate asked. "This plant looks like it might be carnivorous."
The pink girl kissed him on the cheek.
"This plant is me," she said to him in perfect English. "And now I have you caught, pinned between my padded leaves."
Her arms and legs slithered between the padded walls and Bate's body as she wrapped her limbs around him and drew him close.
"And you know what happens to those that get caught," the pink girl said.
"They're fucked," Bate said.
With horror, he realized he was fucked. The walls had closed in so much he was wedged between them and couldn't move. He wondered what the fluids covering her body—and now his!—really were. They'd already rotted away his uniform.
"That's right," she said. "We fuck... and fuck... and fuck."
Bate's sudden fearful revelation hadn't yet had a chance to percolate down to his boner. Her oil-slick limbs roaming all over his naked body had perked his dick up into an interested erection. She pressed up against him. His erect cock pushed between two fleshy lips and entered her warm sex. She sank down his shaft and he pushed up deeper into her heat and moistness.
This wasn't the fucked Bate had envisioned, but he was not about to complain. Having sex with an alien girl was an infinite improvement over being eaten by one. And she was tight, really tight. Bate hadn't felt pussy as tight as this since high school.
She could also do things with her pussy Bate hadn't even realized were possible. The walls tightened around his member, then relaxed. Tightened... then relaxed. Tightened... then relaxed.
It was a different kind of stimulation. Wedged between the padded walls and tangled up in her limbs, there was no way for Bate to generate thrust in either direction. Not that he needed to, the contractions of her vagina pulled on him with gentle tugs. It wasn't just her sex—her thighs, her body, the padded walls, all squeezed him with the same rhythm.
It was... amazing.
"Water me with your seed," the pink girl said.
Bate hoped she was ready for a flood. Those little squeezes of her pussy kept changing rhythm. Every time he thought she was about to take him over the edge, she slowed down and let his climax build up and up until he knew the final release was going to be monstrous.
The padded walls sealed up around him until he was contained within them in his own little intimate pocket. It didn't concern him. He'd ceased thinking of it as a plant. It felt more like he and a sexy playmate had been wedged between two soft mattresses in a kinky brothel. Her body and the walls throbbed around him to the same sensual rhythm.
"Water you, I'm going to drown you!" Bate laughed.
She smiled at him. Her pussy squeezed and tugged. Faster now. There would be no coming back from the edge this time. Bate used what little degree of freedom he had to press his hips up against her and groan as he finally erupted. It was monstrous, a gush of release like nothing he'd ever experienced before.
Here too was more proof that she was more than the hot little slut wrapped around him. The pulsing tunnel of her sex was long and terminated not in a womb but a large chamber behind and beneath her body. That chamber expanded and Bate felt the suction pulling at him. He erupted again—a second orgasm in its own right and even stronger than the first. It emptied his balls as fast as if she'd dropped a hose in his tank and siphoned of all his gas, leaving him a twitching wreck of jittery misfiring neurons.
A happy twitching wreck of jittery misfiring neurons. That was... satisfaction.
"That was amazing," he said. "And to think I thought you were a carnivorous plant."
"Oh, but I am a carnivorous plant, my dear," the Venus mantrap said.
She pressed her lips against Bate's. Her throat worked and she spewed a torrent of liquid down Bate's throat. Within the fluid mix was a complex anesthetic compound that drugged Bate and shut down his pain receptors. This was a small mercy on the part of the Venus mantrap. The majority of the liquid was a highly corrosive acid that melted through Bate's flesh like boiling water through soft butter. Some ate through his throat and flooded his chest. The rest flooded into his central cavity and liquefied his internal organs. Bate didn't even feel it. Within the digestive acids was another exotic drug—a potent aphrodisiac—that, together with the pulsing motions of her vagina, triggered another explosive climax from Bate. His last conscious moment was the most intense burst of pleasure he'd ever experienced, even as his meat sloughed off his bones and he spurted his own liquefied innards into her pulsing vagina.
The mantrap drank him down with great lusty gulps.
* * * *
PFC Stewart Peter Bate caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see a pink figure shooting forwards as if on a bungee rope. In the brief moment he had to see her, Bate thought he was looking at an attractive and naked young woman. At the apex of her forward motion she opened her arms and threw a collection of debris out across the jungle. Then, just as fast as she'd appeared, she was reeled back between a pair of giant green flytrap leaves that closed around her like heavy iron gates.
The trash she'd jettisoned rained down through the foliage to the right of Bate.
Was that part of a human skeleton?
Bate went over to investigate and put his hand to his mouth as he made the horrifying discovery of a human skull and part of a ribcage lying against the base of a tree. Both lay in puddles of vile green ichor. Bate had a horrible feeling he was looking at the remains of one of his squad, but he couldn't for the life of him tell who it was.
Tuesday, March 08, 2016
Succubus Summoning 212, part 2
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...
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...
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.
 |
| If a lamia asks you if you want to be her cuddle toy, the correct answer is "yes". |
 |
| WTF Toro Toro Resistance! I think you forgot the girl in monster girl for this one. |
 |
| Become a guinea pig at a sex toy testing facility! |
 |
| 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.)
Friday, February 19, 2016
H-space MGB Profile: Penishroom
Name: Penishroom
Type: Fungus
Habitat: Dense Vegetation. Jungle.
Description:
A bizarre giant fungus, usually growing to around ten feet in height. So called because of its resemblance to an erect male penis, right down to the presence of two globular structures resembling testes at the base of the shaft.
Attack Strategy:
The fungus, if it is a fungus, is carnivorous and functions like an ambush predator. If any prey walks within range the head will bend down and attempt to swallow it. Once ingested, the prey is pushed down the shaft and into one of the 'testicles' to be digested.
Countermeasures:
The penishroom is rooted to the ground and can only attack individuals that walk within range. This one's straightforward—stay well clear of the big mushroom that looks like a giant dick.
Because people inevitably won't stay clear of the big mushroom that looks like a giant dick, this is what you should do if a member of your squad manages to get themselves swallowed. First off, you won't have much time. Digestion within the basal sacs occurs extremely rapidly. There have been reports of swallowed men coming completely apart within a few minutes of entering the digestion organ. With that in mind, the first course of action should be to slit open the basal sacs with a heavy bladed weapon such as a machete. Don't attack the stalk—it's composed of a tough fibrous material and you won't be able to cut through in time. Slit open the basal sacs. This will drain away the enzymic soup contained within them and enable the penishroom's swallowed victim to be retrieved unhurt. The digestive enzymes denature rapidly upon contact with the open air, so there is no need to worry should any get splashed on you while cutting the basal sac open.
Threat Level:
Low.
*ETA. Later reports have come in that suggest the penishroom gives off a luring scent that is very difficult for some individuals to resist. Women and homosexual men appear to be the most affected.
What is it with H-space and sex...? Why are sexual lures used so aggressively out here in order to attract prey? Understanding this might be the key to understanding the various flora and fauna of H-space.
Type: Fungus
Habitat: Dense Vegetation. Jungle.
Description:
A bizarre giant fungus, usually growing to around ten feet in height. So called because of its resemblance to an erect male penis, right down to the presence of two globular structures resembling testes at the base of the shaft.
Attack Strategy:
The fungus, if it is a fungus, is carnivorous and functions like an ambush predator. If any prey walks within range the head will bend down and attempt to swallow it. Once ingested, the prey is pushed down the shaft and into one of the 'testicles' to be digested.
Countermeasures:
The penishroom is rooted to the ground and can only attack individuals that walk within range. This one's straightforward—stay well clear of the big mushroom that looks like a giant dick.
Because people inevitably won't stay clear of the big mushroom that looks like a giant dick, this is what you should do if a member of your squad manages to get themselves swallowed. First off, you won't have much time. Digestion within the basal sacs occurs extremely rapidly. There have been reports of swallowed men coming completely apart within a few minutes of entering the digestion organ. With that in mind, the first course of action should be to slit open the basal sacs with a heavy bladed weapon such as a machete. Don't attack the stalk—it's composed of a tough fibrous material and you won't be able to cut through in time. Slit open the basal sacs. This will drain away the enzymic soup contained within them and enable the penishroom's swallowed victim to be retrieved unhurt. The digestive enzymes denature rapidly upon contact with the open air, so there is no need to worry should any get splashed on you while cutting the basal sac open.
Threat Level:
Low.
*ETA. Later reports have come in that suggest the penishroom gives off a luring scent that is very difficult for some individuals to resist. Women and homosexual men appear to be the most affected.
What is it with H-space and sex...? Why are sexual lures used so aggressively out here in order to attract prey? Understanding this might be the key to understanding the various flora and fauna of H-space.
Thursday, February 18, 2016
H-space MGB Story: Penishroom
PFC Stewart Peter Bate couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he'd lost his mind. He suspected it might have been the moment he'd watched a giant penis eat Hernandez. If watching a monstrous cock devour one of your squad buddies wasn't an indication you'd totally lost it, then what was?
They'd been on exploratory—xplo—duty. Normally that meant hours of trudging across featureless rocks and dirt in search of something that wasn't featureless rocks and dirt. And normally it was a fruitless endeavor as normally all they found was more rocks and dirt.
This time, as they'd pushed out further, they found something that wasn't rocks and dirt—they found life. The edge of an enormous jungle to be exact. The squad was so shocked to find something that wasn't rocks and dirt they thought it must be a mirage. The ground fell away in a rift that extended into the distance and resembled a great crack in the earth. They couldn't see the bottom as it was hidden beneath a dense green canopy of alien vegetation that covered the floor of the massive canyon. They hadn't seen the jungle from a distance as the canopy didn't extends above the cliff edge they were standing on. It grew in this vast cleft in the earth like moss growing in the cracks of a paving slab.
Radio communication was patchy and inconsistent on this side of the gate. Something to do with different physics. On finding something of interest, and this was massively of interest, they should have returned back to base to report. Squad Leader Reynolds wanted to push on further instead. His reasoning was that they'd only just started the sweep and it would be a waste of an exploratory run to head back now. Bate suspected the real reason was because Squad Leader Reynolds knew that if they did go back the top brass would send in the glory boys from Special Forces instead, and they'd be the ones getting the credit for any new discoveries.
It was an open secret amongst the men that Squad Leader Reynolds had a chip on his shoulder about the 'glory boys' of Special Forces. There were rumors the squad leader had been washed out of Special Forces training for bullshit reasons and had harbored a grudge ever since.
So they'd descended down into the jungle and Hernandez had been eaten by a giant penis.
It wasn't a giant penis exactly, but had looked remarkably similar. All the vegetation in the jungle was a little strange—a little warped, a little over-fecund. The shapes and scents had triggered subconscious imagery that had made the men's balls itch. That itch had been magnified by the heat and humidity beneath the canopy. Sweaty like a ten-dollar-hooker's crack and smelling just as rank, as another soldier had put it.
Hernandez had found the fungus or plant that looked like a giant penis.
"Hey, doesn't that look like a giant cock?" he said, his face cracking up with mirth.
It did. The fungus or plant—if it was either—was a column about ten feet high and fleshy-pink in color. The top bulged out into a reddish bulb that resembled the glans of an erect human penis, though it was probably nothing more than the cap of an enormous mushroom. What really made the resemblance was the presence of two round fleshy growths with wrinkled skin at the base of the column. They looked like a pair of giant testicles.
The resemblance was so striking it was easy to imagine a titan lying just beneath the surface with their erect genitals poking up out of the soil.
Hernandez was still laughing and making filthy jokes about it when the giant penis-shaped thing had bent over and swallowed up his head and shoulders. The thing bent back to upright taking Hernandez with it. His legs kicked out as he went down whatever the thing had for a throat like a drunken Santa going down a chimney upside down. They watched the bulge pass down the column until it reached the base of the shaft and Hernandez's still struggling form was squeezed out into one of the giant testicle-like growths. He continued to struggle and they saw the imprints of his hands and face as he tried to force his way out of the sac. The sac itself started to throb and pulsate in an unwholesome manner.
The rest of the squad, belatedly, once the initial shock had worn off, sprang into action. Their first instincts were to go for their guns and shoot the giant cock-mushroom thing. Nothing happened. They depressed the triggers and their guns refused to fire. Shitty alternate dimension physics, Bate thought. Not only did it fuck up all their electronics, sometimes it fucked with their weapons as well.
Squad Leader Reynolds was first to go at it with his machete. The others followed his lead. The thing looked soft and fleshy, but was fibrous and tough beneath the surface. It shuddered loathsomely as they hacked away. Instead of blood, their cuts brought forth thick white pus that gave off a reek that caught at the back of their throats. They hacked and hacked while the loathsome swollen 'testicle' had scrunched and shuddered and churned Hernandez inside it. Eventually they hacked the main stem down and ripped open the top of the round pulsing ball of wrinkled flesh.
They were too late. They found Hernandez inside. Bits of him anyway. They floated in a milky-white soup. His limbs looked boneless, rubbery and wasted—like meat left in a pot too long.
Bate might have just about been able to ride that one out. Then Hernandez's head had floated to the surface and the eyes blinked open. His face had twisted up and he let out a sigh as if he'd just emptied his nuts into Miss USA. Then it dissolved into milky-white broth. The whole noxious mix had poured out across the floor like a river of stodgy filth. It stank like old semen on a whore's bed.
And that had been that for Bate. He'd sped right out of Sanesville leaving streaks of burning rubber behind him.
They'd been on exploratory—xplo—duty. Normally that meant hours of trudging across featureless rocks and dirt in search of something that wasn't featureless rocks and dirt. And normally it was a fruitless endeavor as normally all they found was more rocks and dirt.
This time, as they'd pushed out further, they found something that wasn't rocks and dirt—they found life. The edge of an enormous jungle to be exact. The squad was so shocked to find something that wasn't rocks and dirt they thought it must be a mirage. The ground fell away in a rift that extended into the distance and resembled a great crack in the earth. They couldn't see the bottom as it was hidden beneath a dense green canopy of alien vegetation that covered the floor of the massive canyon. They hadn't seen the jungle from a distance as the canopy didn't extends above the cliff edge they were standing on. It grew in this vast cleft in the earth like moss growing in the cracks of a paving slab.
Radio communication was patchy and inconsistent on this side of the gate. Something to do with different physics. On finding something of interest, and this was massively of interest, they should have returned back to base to report. Squad Leader Reynolds wanted to push on further instead. His reasoning was that they'd only just started the sweep and it would be a waste of an exploratory run to head back now. Bate suspected the real reason was because Squad Leader Reynolds knew that if they did go back the top brass would send in the glory boys from Special Forces instead, and they'd be the ones getting the credit for any new discoveries.
It was an open secret amongst the men that Squad Leader Reynolds had a chip on his shoulder about the 'glory boys' of Special Forces. There were rumors the squad leader had been washed out of Special Forces training for bullshit reasons and had harbored a grudge ever since.
So they'd descended down into the jungle and Hernandez had been eaten by a giant penis.
It wasn't a giant penis exactly, but had looked remarkably similar. All the vegetation in the jungle was a little strange—a little warped, a little over-fecund. The shapes and scents had triggered subconscious imagery that had made the men's balls itch. That itch had been magnified by the heat and humidity beneath the canopy. Sweaty like a ten-dollar-hooker's crack and smelling just as rank, as another soldier had put it.
Hernandez had found the fungus or plant that looked like a giant penis.
"Hey, doesn't that look like a giant cock?" he said, his face cracking up with mirth.
It did. The fungus or plant—if it was either—was a column about ten feet high and fleshy-pink in color. The top bulged out into a reddish bulb that resembled the glans of an erect human penis, though it was probably nothing more than the cap of an enormous mushroom. What really made the resemblance was the presence of two round fleshy growths with wrinkled skin at the base of the column. They looked like a pair of giant testicles.
The resemblance was so striking it was easy to imagine a titan lying just beneath the surface with their erect genitals poking up out of the soil.
Hernandez was still laughing and making filthy jokes about it when the giant penis-shaped thing had bent over and swallowed up his head and shoulders. The thing bent back to upright taking Hernandez with it. His legs kicked out as he went down whatever the thing had for a throat like a drunken Santa going down a chimney upside down. They watched the bulge pass down the column until it reached the base of the shaft and Hernandez's still struggling form was squeezed out into one of the giant testicle-like growths. He continued to struggle and they saw the imprints of his hands and face as he tried to force his way out of the sac. The sac itself started to throb and pulsate in an unwholesome manner.
The rest of the squad, belatedly, once the initial shock had worn off, sprang into action. Their first instincts were to go for their guns and shoot the giant cock-mushroom thing. Nothing happened. They depressed the triggers and their guns refused to fire. Shitty alternate dimension physics, Bate thought. Not only did it fuck up all their electronics, sometimes it fucked with their weapons as well.
Squad Leader Reynolds was first to go at it with his machete. The others followed his lead. The thing looked soft and fleshy, but was fibrous and tough beneath the surface. It shuddered loathsomely as they hacked away. Instead of blood, their cuts brought forth thick white pus that gave off a reek that caught at the back of their throats. They hacked and hacked while the loathsome swollen 'testicle' had scrunched and shuddered and churned Hernandez inside it. Eventually they hacked the main stem down and ripped open the top of the round pulsing ball of wrinkled flesh.
They were too late. They found Hernandez inside. Bits of him anyway. They floated in a milky-white soup. His limbs looked boneless, rubbery and wasted—like meat left in a pot too long.
Bate might have just about been able to ride that one out. Then Hernandez's head had floated to the surface and the eyes blinked open. His face had twisted up and he let out a sigh as if he'd just emptied his nuts into Miss USA. Then it dissolved into milky-white broth. The whole noxious mix had poured out across the floor like a river of stodgy filth. It stank like old semen on a whore's bed.
And that had been that for Bate. He'd sped right out of Sanesville leaving streaks of burning rubber behind him.
Friday, February 12, 2016
H-space MGB Profile: Frilled Spitzard
Name: Frilled Spitzard
Type: Lizardfolk
Habitat: Desert. Arid mountains, caves.
Description:
A lizard girl. Yes, I know it makes zero sense for a reptile to possess breasts given that mammary glands are one of the defining features of mammals. This is par for the course as far as H-space is concerned. Don't think about it too hard my biology compadres. Centrefold pin-up with scales and a short stubby tail is the common description we've received. They also possess a flap of skin that runs from their ears to their shoulders and puffs out whenever they're about to spit.
Attack Strategy:
They catch and immobilise potential mates/prey with globs of sticky mucous propelled from either the mouth or vagina. The mucous sets quickly and is highly adhesive. Chemical analysis also found the presence of various exotic compounds that function as a minor aphrodisiac when absorbed through the skin.
Once a man is immobilised, the spitzards then perform a bizarre mating ritual which involves them surrounding him in a circle and taking it in turns to cover in him in a colloidal paste secreted by their sexual organs. This mucous has a much higher concentration of aphrodisiac agents and will eventually trigger ejaculation. The spitzard that succeeds in getting a man to orgasm in this manner wins the right to "mate" with him. I use mate in a loose sense given that predation and mating seem inexplicably entwined in H-space. The winning spitzard secretes a much more complex slime over their mate that triggers even stronger climaxes while at the same time turning the man into soft, malleable jelly. The spitzard then ingests them with her vagina.*
Countermeasures:
Their main weapon is their spit, which they are able to direct over medium distances with great accuracy. While not to be taken lightly, this is not a match for conventional weaponry. However, as we have learned to our cost, conventional weaponry is not always reliable under the physical conditions of H-space. If firearms fail, the correct course of action is to retreat. Spitzards are fast, agile and, as a group, more than a match for a squad armed only with melee weapons.
Threat Level:
Moderate.
Spitzards tend to travel in groups and are accomplished in setting up ambushes.
*They're alive. Oh my god, they're still alive.
We dissected a specimen today and found the remains of a soldier in a chamber at the base of their tail. At least we thought they were remains—the man was folded up as though his body had been turned to soft rubber. Then the man opened his eyes and looked at us. Sadly we were unable to reverse the process and the man died soon after being extracted from the spitzard's body.
God, the look on his eyes. The way his mouth opened in a soundless scream. I don't think I'm ever going to get it out of my head.
I wish I could leave this place and go back to Earth. It's only the awareness I would not be able to live with myself for being responsible for subjecting another human being to this in my place that keeps me here.
Type: Lizardfolk
Habitat: Desert. Arid mountains, caves.
Description:
A lizard girl. Yes, I know it makes zero sense for a reptile to possess breasts given that mammary glands are one of the defining features of mammals. This is par for the course as far as H-space is concerned. Don't think about it too hard my biology compadres. Centrefold pin-up with scales and a short stubby tail is the common description we've received. They also possess a flap of skin that runs from their ears to their shoulders and puffs out whenever they're about to spit.
Attack Strategy:
They catch and immobilise potential mates/prey with globs of sticky mucous propelled from either the mouth or vagina. The mucous sets quickly and is highly adhesive. Chemical analysis also found the presence of various exotic compounds that function as a minor aphrodisiac when absorbed through the skin.
Once a man is immobilised, the spitzards then perform a bizarre mating ritual which involves them surrounding him in a circle and taking it in turns to cover in him in a colloidal paste secreted by their sexual organs. This mucous has a much higher concentration of aphrodisiac agents and will eventually trigger ejaculation. The spitzard that succeeds in getting a man to orgasm in this manner wins the right to "mate" with him. I use mate in a loose sense given that predation and mating seem inexplicably entwined in H-space. The winning spitzard secretes a much more complex slime over their mate that triggers even stronger climaxes while at the same time turning the man into soft, malleable jelly. The spitzard then ingests them with her vagina.*
Countermeasures:
Their main weapon is their spit, which they are able to direct over medium distances with great accuracy. While not to be taken lightly, this is not a match for conventional weaponry. However, as we have learned to our cost, conventional weaponry is not always reliable under the physical conditions of H-space. If firearms fail, the correct course of action is to retreat. Spitzards are fast, agile and, as a group, more than a match for a squad armed only with melee weapons.
Threat Level:
Moderate.
Spitzards tend to travel in groups and are accomplished in setting up ambushes.
*They're alive. Oh my god, they're still alive.
We dissected a specimen today and found the remains of a soldier in a chamber at the base of their tail. At least we thought they were remains—the man was folded up as though his body had been turned to soft rubber. Then the man opened his eyes and looked at us. Sadly we were unable to reverse the process and the man died soon after being extracted from the spitzard's body.
God, the look on his eyes. The way his mouth opened in a soundless scream. I don't think I'm ever going to get it out of my head.
I wish I could leave this place and go back to Earth. It's only the awareness I would not be able to live with myself for being responsible for subjecting another human being to this in my place that keeps me here.
Thursday, February 11, 2016
H-space MGB Story: Frilled Spitzard
PFC Stewart Peter Bate had a friend back home who had a spitting fetish. He was otherwise normal in all other regards—a perfectly upstanding fine citizen... that happened to get off by watching videos of sexy women spitting into men's faces.
Everyone has their own hidden kinks.
Bate watched the hindig's frilled throat puff up, her head coil back and then whip forward as she launched a greenish-white glob into the air. As time slowed down and he watched the sticky glob arc through the air and splatter against PFC Andy Doyle's face like a custard pie, he wondered what his friend would make of all this. Would it be a massive turn-on?
The hindigs were sexy, in a weird alien way. They reminded Bate of science fiction TV shows where they'd take an attractive actress and add prosthetics and makeup to make her look like an alien. She might have pointed ears, blue or green skin, scales and weird bony ridges, but you always knew that underneath the prosthetics and makeup was a sexy actress.
That was what these hindigs were like. You knew they were alien, but they also reminded you of those sci-fi TV shows. So much so it was easy to question what you were seeing was real and not just a pretty starlet in prosthetics and makeup.
The spit was real enough. The hindig had picked out Doyle with uncanny accuracy and the young soldier went down with his face covered in sticky goop.
Bate's thoughts continued to bubble along in a random, unfocused rush. Was the spit acidic... or poisonous? Was it even now melting through the young soldier's eyeballs and eating into his brains?
Fuck. Don't think about it.
Bate pulled the trigger on his gun. Nothing happened. Nothing had been happening since the start of the engagement, which felt like it had begun several lifetimes ago even though it was likely less than a minute. His M16 wasn't firing. It could be a jam, but Bate knew it wasn't. No one else's gun was firing either and it was way beyond the realms of probability that every firearm in the squad had jammed at precisely the same moment.
Dimly he remembered being told that the laws of physics were a little sketchy out here in H-space. None of their complex electronics worked and even relatively simple machinery fouled up far more frequently than normal. Sometimes guns didn't fire and grenades didn't explode. Having that happen right now, right after they'd blundered into a hindig nest was the worst fucking timing. Sure, knives and other blades still worked fine, but Bate had already seen what had happened to the Sarge after he'd switched to using his combat knife.
Bate was glad of all the extra adrenaline sloshing through his system. Without it he wouldn't have had the reflexes to whip his head out of the way of another accurately spat missile. The glob splattered stickily over the rocks behind him.
Fuck this.
Bate turned tail and ran. It felt horrible to run out on his buddies, but there was literally nothing he could do for them. They'd been ambushed and their weapons rendered about as useful as scrap metal clubs. They could all go down together or some of them could try to get away and come back with greater force to avenge the fallen. Bate would have expected any of his squad buddies to come to the same conclusion.
Not that it made much difference. He only made it as far as around the big boulder when a hindig jumped out onto the path in front of him.
Close up there was even more of that weird dissonance between the alien and sexy. Even after seeing what they could do he was a having a hard time believing she was real and not just an actress in prosthetics and makeup. A sexy actress as well. She had nice long legs, a taut midriff and a pair of firm round tits as good as any he'd jerked off to.
She also had scales and weird spiny frills running along her shoulders, neck and the back of her arms. Her high, exotic cheekbones were emphasized by bony ridges poking out through her skin like miniature mountain ranges. She also had flaps of skin that extended from behind her ears to the base of her neck and resembled the hood of a cobra. Topping off her lizard-like appearance was the presence of a short stubby tail.
The hindig's yellow eyes were fixed on Bate as she bobbed and weaved with sinuous, serpentine flexibility.
Bate shot her. Or rather, he pressed the trigger on his gun and cursed when nothing happened.
He watched her warily. The frill on their necks expanded and their throats puffed up when they were about to spit. He could watch for that, dodge it, and then charge her before she had a chance to hawk up another toxic loogie. With any luck he would barrel straight through her and be on his way to safety.
Bate's attention was on the wrong orifice. They didn't just spit from their mouths.
Her legs were already braced apart. Her stubby tail swelled, then—in one smooth motion—her hips swung forward, the tail contracted and her vagina gaped wide as it spat a big white mass at Bate.
There was no dodging this. The glob was already expanding out like a net as it raced to Bate. It hit him full on the chest and knocked him off his feet. He fell on his back with a puddle of white gunk covering his chest and midsection. It wasn't acidic, thankfully, but it was extremely sticky. He tried to stand back up and found he couldn't. The gunk had set and he was stuck to the floor by gummy ropes.
Bate thrashed and struggled. The gunk stretched, but not enough for him to pull free.
He was stuck. Stuck and helpless.
The hindig watched his fruitless struggles with bright yellow eyes. Not only was her appearance alien, her movements were as well—quick, birdlike.
The noise of battle, not that there'd been much to start with given how outclassed they were and with none of their weapons working, had died away. That was it. They were all dead, or incapacitated.
...by lizard girls with tits.
Fuck.
Bate kept pulling at the gluey strands holding him to the floor. Some were beginning to peel away from the rock underneath him. A few more minutes of uninterrupted effort and he reckoned he might be able to pull free.
Not that they were likely to give him a few minutes of uninterrupted effort.
More of the spitzards had appeared. They stood around him in a semicircle and watched. That's all they did—watch... watch and whisper to each other as Bate slowly—painfully slowly—tried to extricate himself from the sticky, solidified mucus.
Finally Bate's frustration boiled over and he ranted at them. "What do you want with me?"
"We are determining which of us will make you her mate." He was surprised to hear one of the lizard girls speaking back to him in English.
A lizard girl, slightly smaller than the others, stepped forwards. She took up a strange stance with her legs far apart. Staring at Bate, she placed a hand between her legs and rubbed it against her sex.
The fuck? Was she masturbating in front of him?
It seemed that way. She rubbed and rubbed and grew more and more aroused until finally she climaxed. Her tail throbbed, her hips jerked forwards and her vagina deposited a big white liquid blob all over him.
All Bate's work in trying to pull free was undone as the lizard girl buried him beneath another pile of gloop. This goop was different. The substance didn't feel as sticky, instead feeling creamier and warmer.
...and corrosive.
Bate watched his uniform fall away in rotting strands and, with gritted teeth, waited for his skin and flesh to do the same. It didn't happen. Instead he felt a warm, tingly feeling all over that was surprisingly pleasant.
The lizard girl seemed both disappointed and unsurprised at her disappointment. She returned to the line and her place was taken by another spitzard.
The new lizard girl did exactly the same as the first—she got herself off and her pussy spat a big glob of white slime over Bate. He was surprised to find he relished the sensation of the gloop against his skin. There was something about it that got his blood up and started an itch in his balls. Some of the goop slid down between his legs and his pubic hair stiffened and crackled as if sparks were running through it.
A third lizard girl stepped up and spat on him. A fourth.
At this point Bate was finding himself to be weirdly aroused in a way that made no sense at all. When he looked at the women, the scales, spines and bony ridges that spoke of reptilian ancestry faded from his perception. All he saw were their human features—their lean, lithe bodies; their perky, gravity-defying breasts. It was like being surrounded by a harem of naked swimwear models.
As the sixth stepped forward to take her turn, Bate found his own penis rising to attention as she started to get herself off. Bate had stopped struggling a while ago. Each glob of goop spat on him felt like the fresh hit of some kind of drug. The sixth girl was the same one that had prevented his escape, Bate noted as she reached climax and spat a thick white glob on his prone body. This one landed right on his erection and enfolded it as the warm goop slid down his shaft.
Bate was already aroused. The sensation of the creamy mass smothering his erection and sliding down it was enough to tip him over the brink. His cock throbbed as he erupted in unexpected orgasm and added his own cream to the sticky layer on top of him.
This was a signal to the lizard girls. If this was a contest then the sixth spitzard was deemed to be the winner. Yellow eyes shiny bright, she approached Bate until she was standing astride him.
"You're mine," she proclaimed.
Her sex gaped open at the apex of her legs. Her hand went back to it and she sighed and hissed in passion. This was more frenzied—more painful, even—than before. The spitzard's fingers terminated in claws, yet she showed no hesitation in inserting a finger and moving it around. It looked as though she was tearing at the inner lining of her sex with her claw. Creamy white fluids dripped from her pussy lips. Drips became a trickle, then a stream, then a flood. She took away her finger and pinkish-white paste poured out of her pussy. More and more poured out until Bate was buried beneath a quivering pile.
Bate's nerves crackled like crazy. He felt aroused. Super aroused. Beyond aroused. He climaxed again and again and again... He felt the muscles clenching around his seminal tubes, clenching so hard they started to twinge. His cock jerked spasmodically as he sprayed his semen into the goop surrounding him. As good as it felt there was a weird undercurrent to it. Bate felt more comfortably relaxed and pleasantly floppy than he'd ever felt in his life.
Aside from his cock. That was the only bit of hardness about him and the only thing it wanted more than what it had right now was to be inside the warm vagina gaping wide above him. A wish the lizard girl seemed willing to grant as she sat down in the pile of pinkish-white cream. Her sex found his and sucked it inside with lusty gulps. That triggered another jittery climax as he finally got to empty his balls inside her. She slurped it up and kept slurping. Her vagina slurped up his cock, his balls and then started on him.
The how of it didn't make sense to Bate. The fluids she'd covered him in had done something strange to his body. His bones, his muscles, his tissues—all had been rendered as soft as jelly. And now her vagina swelled and stretched as she gulped it all down.
The spitzard drew the whole of Bate's newly-pliable body inside her. He was folded up and neatly stored in a special chamber at the base of her tail. Bate was conscious throughout it all and didn't feel any pain. On the contrary, he liked it here. It was warm. It was pleasant. The cares and worries of the world couldn't touch him here. It was like being brought back into a comfortable womb. The spitzard moved on, her new 'mate' conscious and content inside her.
Everyone has their own hidden kinks.
Bate watched the hindig's frilled throat puff up, her head coil back and then whip forward as she launched a greenish-white glob into the air. As time slowed down and he watched the sticky glob arc through the air and splatter against PFC Andy Doyle's face like a custard pie, he wondered what his friend would make of all this. Would it be a massive turn-on?
The hindigs were sexy, in a weird alien way. They reminded Bate of science fiction TV shows where they'd take an attractive actress and add prosthetics and makeup to make her look like an alien. She might have pointed ears, blue or green skin, scales and weird bony ridges, but you always knew that underneath the prosthetics and makeup was a sexy actress.
That was what these hindigs were like. You knew they were alien, but they also reminded you of those sci-fi TV shows. So much so it was easy to question what you were seeing was real and not just a pretty starlet in prosthetics and makeup.
The spit was real enough. The hindig had picked out Doyle with uncanny accuracy and the young soldier went down with his face covered in sticky goop.
Bate's thoughts continued to bubble along in a random, unfocused rush. Was the spit acidic... or poisonous? Was it even now melting through the young soldier's eyeballs and eating into his brains?
Fuck. Don't think about it.
Bate pulled the trigger on his gun. Nothing happened. Nothing had been happening since the start of the engagement, which felt like it had begun several lifetimes ago even though it was likely less than a minute. His M16 wasn't firing. It could be a jam, but Bate knew it wasn't. No one else's gun was firing either and it was way beyond the realms of probability that every firearm in the squad had jammed at precisely the same moment.
Dimly he remembered being told that the laws of physics were a little sketchy out here in H-space. None of their complex electronics worked and even relatively simple machinery fouled up far more frequently than normal. Sometimes guns didn't fire and grenades didn't explode. Having that happen right now, right after they'd blundered into a hindig nest was the worst fucking timing. Sure, knives and other blades still worked fine, but Bate had already seen what had happened to the Sarge after he'd switched to using his combat knife.
Bate was glad of all the extra adrenaline sloshing through his system. Without it he wouldn't have had the reflexes to whip his head out of the way of another accurately spat missile. The glob splattered stickily over the rocks behind him.
Fuck this.
Bate turned tail and ran. It felt horrible to run out on his buddies, but there was literally nothing he could do for them. They'd been ambushed and their weapons rendered about as useful as scrap metal clubs. They could all go down together or some of them could try to get away and come back with greater force to avenge the fallen. Bate would have expected any of his squad buddies to come to the same conclusion.
Not that it made much difference. He only made it as far as around the big boulder when a hindig jumped out onto the path in front of him.
Close up there was even more of that weird dissonance between the alien and sexy. Even after seeing what they could do he was a having a hard time believing she was real and not just an actress in prosthetics and makeup. A sexy actress as well. She had nice long legs, a taut midriff and a pair of firm round tits as good as any he'd jerked off to.
She also had scales and weird spiny frills running along her shoulders, neck and the back of her arms. Her high, exotic cheekbones were emphasized by bony ridges poking out through her skin like miniature mountain ranges. She also had flaps of skin that extended from behind her ears to the base of her neck and resembled the hood of a cobra. Topping off her lizard-like appearance was the presence of a short stubby tail.
The hindig's yellow eyes were fixed on Bate as she bobbed and weaved with sinuous, serpentine flexibility.
Bate shot her. Or rather, he pressed the trigger on his gun and cursed when nothing happened.
He watched her warily. The frill on their necks expanded and their throats puffed up when they were about to spit. He could watch for that, dodge it, and then charge her before she had a chance to hawk up another toxic loogie. With any luck he would barrel straight through her and be on his way to safety.
Bate's attention was on the wrong orifice. They didn't just spit from their mouths.
Her legs were already braced apart. Her stubby tail swelled, then—in one smooth motion—her hips swung forward, the tail contracted and her vagina gaped wide as it spat a big white mass at Bate.
There was no dodging this. The glob was already expanding out like a net as it raced to Bate. It hit him full on the chest and knocked him off his feet. He fell on his back with a puddle of white gunk covering his chest and midsection. It wasn't acidic, thankfully, but it was extremely sticky. He tried to stand back up and found he couldn't. The gunk had set and he was stuck to the floor by gummy ropes.
Bate thrashed and struggled. The gunk stretched, but not enough for him to pull free.
He was stuck. Stuck and helpless.
The hindig watched his fruitless struggles with bright yellow eyes. Not only was her appearance alien, her movements were as well—quick, birdlike.
The noise of battle, not that there'd been much to start with given how outclassed they were and with none of their weapons working, had died away. That was it. They were all dead, or incapacitated.
...by lizard girls with tits.
Fuck.
Bate kept pulling at the gluey strands holding him to the floor. Some were beginning to peel away from the rock underneath him. A few more minutes of uninterrupted effort and he reckoned he might be able to pull free.
Not that they were likely to give him a few minutes of uninterrupted effort.
More of the spitzards had appeared. They stood around him in a semicircle and watched. That's all they did—watch... watch and whisper to each other as Bate slowly—painfully slowly—tried to extricate himself from the sticky, solidified mucus.
Finally Bate's frustration boiled over and he ranted at them. "What do you want with me?"
"We are determining which of us will make you her mate." He was surprised to hear one of the lizard girls speaking back to him in English.
A lizard girl, slightly smaller than the others, stepped forwards. She took up a strange stance with her legs far apart. Staring at Bate, she placed a hand between her legs and rubbed it against her sex.
The fuck? Was she masturbating in front of him?
It seemed that way. She rubbed and rubbed and grew more and more aroused until finally she climaxed. Her tail throbbed, her hips jerked forwards and her vagina deposited a big white liquid blob all over him.
All Bate's work in trying to pull free was undone as the lizard girl buried him beneath another pile of gloop. This goop was different. The substance didn't feel as sticky, instead feeling creamier and warmer.
...and corrosive.
Bate watched his uniform fall away in rotting strands and, with gritted teeth, waited for his skin and flesh to do the same. It didn't happen. Instead he felt a warm, tingly feeling all over that was surprisingly pleasant.
The lizard girl seemed both disappointed and unsurprised at her disappointment. She returned to the line and her place was taken by another spitzard.
The new lizard girl did exactly the same as the first—she got herself off and her pussy spat a big glob of white slime over Bate. He was surprised to find he relished the sensation of the gloop against his skin. There was something about it that got his blood up and started an itch in his balls. Some of the goop slid down between his legs and his pubic hair stiffened and crackled as if sparks were running through it.
A third lizard girl stepped up and spat on him. A fourth.
At this point Bate was finding himself to be weirdly aroused in a way that made no sense at all. When he looked at the women, the scales, spines and bony ridges that spoke of reptilian ancestry faded from his perception. All he saw were their human features—their lean, lithe bodies; their perky, gravity-defying breasts. It was like being surrounded by a harem of naked swimwear models.
As the sixth stepped forward to take her turn, Bate found his own penis rising to attention as she started to get herself off. Bate had stopped struggling a while ago. Each glob of goop spat on him felt like the fresh hit of some kind of drug. The sixth girl was the same one that had prevented his escape, Bate noted as she reached climax and spat a thick white glob on his prone body. This one landed right on his erection and enfolded it as the warm goop slid down his shaft.
Bate was already aroused. The sensation of the creamy mass smothering his erection and sliding down it was enough to tip him over the brink. His cock throbbed as he erupted in unexpected orgasm and added his own cream to the sticky layer on top of him.
This was a signal to the lizard girls. If this was a contest then the sixth spitzard was deemed to be the winner. Yellow eyes shiny bright, she approached Bate until she was standing astride him.
"You're mine," she proclaimed.
Her sex gaped open at the apex of her legs. Her hand went back to it and she sighed and hissed in passion. This was more frenzied—more painful, even—than before. The spitzard's fingers terminated in claws, yet she showed no hesitation in inserting a finger and moving it around. It looked as though she was tearing at the inner lining of her sex with her claw. Creamy white fluids dripped from her pussy lips. Drips became a trickle, then a stream, then a flood. She took away her finger and pinkish-white paste poured out of her pussy. More and more poured out until Bate was buried beneath a quivering pile.
Bate's nerves crackled like crazy. He felt aroused. Super aroused. Beyond aroused. He climaxed again and again and again... He felt the muscles clenching around his seminal tubes, clenching so hard they started to twinge. His cock jerked spasmodically as he sprayed his semen into the goop surrounding him. As good as it felt there was a weird undercurrent to it. Bate felt more comfortably relaxed and pleasantly floppy than he'd ever felt in his life.
Aside from his cock. That was the only bit of hardness about him and the only thing it wanted more than what it had right now was to be inside the warm vagina gaping wide above him. A wish the lizard girl seemed willing to grant as she sat down in the pile of pinkish-white cream. Her sex found his and sucked it inside with lusty gulps. That triggered another jittery climax as he finally got to empty his balls inside her. She slurped it up and kept slurping. Her vagina slurped up his cock, his balls and then started on him.
The how of it didn't make sense to Bate. The fluids she'd covered him in had done something strange to his body. His bones, his muscles, his tissues—all had been rendered as soft as jelly. And now her vagina swelled and stretched as she gulped it all down.
The spitzard drew the whole of Bate's newly-pliable body inside her. He was folded up and neatly stored in a special chamber at the base of her tail. Bate was conscious throughout it all and didn't feel any pain. On the contrary, he liked it here. It was warm. It was pleasant. The cares and worries of the world couldn't touch him here. It was like being brought back into a comfortable womb. The spitzard moved on, her new 'mate' conscious and content inside her.
Friday, February 05, 2016
H-space MGB Profile: Bubble-Tail Succubus
Name: Bubble-Tail Succubus
Type: Succubus
Habitat: Wherever they feel like.
Description:
As with all succubi, an extremely attractive humanoid female with demonic features. They possess horns, a tail, and leathery wings like those of a bat. Their skin colour comes in a variety of hues with blood-red being the most common. Overall they resemble the female demons of Medieval art and mythology, which, along with reports of them 'draining life' through sexual intercourse, is how they came to be named after the mythical demon.*
The distinguishing features of this type of succubus are their eyes, which are nearly always white-pink in colour, and tail, which is thicker and possesses a series of bulbous glands near the tip. These bubble-blowing organs are what gives this type of succubus their name, although they can produce bubbles from their other orifices and not just the tail.
*One possible conjecture, admittedly wild, is that these creatures visited Earth at some point in the past and became the source of the succubus myth in the first place!
Attack Strategy:
These succubi are adept at using their bubbles in both attack and defence. At close range they will attempt to capture prey by enveloping and incapacitating them with a large bubble. The bubbles they blow are elastic, adhesive and sturdy despite their fragile appearance—there are reports of the larger bubbles being able to support the weight of a full-grown man without popping. Other subjects have reported feeling intense weakness or paralysis after coming into skin contact with one of these bubbles. It is likely the bubble membrane is impregnated with some kind of toxin that is absorbed through the skin.
Any individuals they capture are transported to a safer location and then either drugged or mesmerised into having sex with the succubus. Sexual intercourse seems to function more as a source of nourishment rather than copulation to these creatures.
(Again, the reports reference soul sucking, but I'm not ready to regard this as anything other than fanciful superstition.)
If faced with greater force, a bubble-tail succubus will produce opaque bubbles to both screen her escape as well as clogging up the ground with obstacles to hinder pursuers.
Countermeasures:
Don't take her appearance lightly.
Don't let her get close. If she manages to get one of her big bubbles wrapped around you that will be the end of the fight. You will be captured, dragged off and made their plaything to torture or kill.
Succubi can be harmed by conventional weapons, but their alien physiology enables them to heal and recover from wounds at a terrifying speed. To take one down requires a massive amount of damage in order to overwhelm their regenerative capabilities.
Threat Level:
High.
They are considerably more dangerous than they first appear.
Type: Succubus
Habitat: Wherever they feel like.
Description:
As with all succubi, an extremely attractive humanoid female with demonic features. They possess horns, a tail, and leathery wings like those of a bat. Their skin colour comes in a variety of hues with blood-red being the most common. Overall they resemble the female demons of Medieval art and mythology, which, along with reports of them 'draining life' through sexual intercourse, is how they came to be named after the mythical demon.*
The distinguishing features of this type of succubus are their eyes, which are nearly always white-pink in colour, and tail, which is thicker and possesses a series of bulbous glands near the tip. These bubble-blowing organs are what gives this type of succubus their name, although they can produce bubbles from their other orifices and not just the tail.
*One possible conjecture, admittedly wild, is that these creatures visited Earth at some point in the past and became the source of the succubus myth in the first place!
Attack Strategy:
These succubi are adept at using their bubbles in both attack and defence. At close range they will attempt to capture prey by enveloping and incapacitating them with a large bubble. The bubbles they blow are elastic, adhesive and sturdy despite their fragile appearance—there are reports of the larger bubbles being able to support the weight of a full-grown man without popping. Other subjects have reported feeling intense weakness or paralysis after coming into skin contact with one of these bubbles. It is likely the bubble membrane is impregnated with some kind of toxin that is absorbed through the skin.
Any individuals they capture are transported to a safer location and then either drugged or mesmerised into having sex with the succubus. Sexual intercourse seems to function more as a source of nourishment rather than copulation to these creatures.
(Again, the reports reference soul sucking, but I'm not ready to regard this as anything other than fanciful superstition.)
If faced with greater force, a bubble-tail succubus will produce opaque bubbles to both screen her escape as well as clogging up the ground with obstacles to hinder pursuers.
Countermeasures:
Don't take her appearance lightly.
Don't let her get close. If she manages to get one of her big bubbles wrapped around you that will be the end of the fight. You will be captured, dragged off and made their plaything to torture or kill.
Succubi can be harmed by conventional weapons, but their alien physiology enables them to heal and recover from wounds at a terrifying speed. To take one down requires a massive amount of damage in order to overwhelm their regenerative capabilities.
Threat Level:
High.
They are considerably more dangerous than they first appear.
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