Friday, July 20, 2012
Even more Monster Girl filth from dlsite.com
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Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Recently, I Have Been Reading . . . Conan!
Conan, lots and lots of Conan . . .
Robert E. Howard’s Conan the Barbarian is one of those characters where you think you know who they are, but then you realise you only know the caricature of who they are. I read the L. Sprague de Camp-padded out paperbacks when I was a young lad because they were cheap and had lurid covers with warriors fending off snakes the size of double-decker buses. I came back to Conan because I had an idea for a story where the classic muscle-bound cliché of a barbarian is easily outwitted by one of my succubi.
However, Howard’s Conan is a completely different beast. Multi-lingual, well-travelled, whip-smart, adept tactician; he’s a lot more than a dumb beast with a big sword. Despite this, Conan still manages to be in significant danger in most of his stories. Howard’s Hyborian world is a dark and dangerous place, filled with hostile tribes, dark magic and the occasional Lovecraftian abomination. While Conan is freakish by normal human standards, he needs to be to survive in that world, and often only does so by the skin of his teeth.
The books I remember were padded out into paperback novels by de Camp. Howard’s original versions were stories that appeared within the pages of Weird Tales. With the exception of The Hour of the Dragon (which is still on my to-read list), the stories are all novella length. Despite the brevity, Howard managed to pack a lot of story in each tale. Given the doorstop-size of most fantasy epics nowadays, it’s astonishing to think one of the grandfathers of the genre managed to build his lushly detailed world within the slimline pages of magazines. And Howard’s world broods. Each paragraph sweats atmosphere and menace.
I believe most of Howard’s stories are out of copyright now (tragically, he committed suicide at the young age of 30). I accessed them through Project Gutenberg Australia here. Well worth a read to appreciate just how good the early pulp masters were.
As for my own muscle-bound expy, well you can see how they get on in my forthcoming collection, A Succubus for Freedom.
Let’s just say they aren’t the real Conan . . .
Robert E. Howard’s Conan the Barbarian is one of those characters where you think you know who they are, but then you realise you only know the caricature of who they are. I read the L. Sprague de Camp-padded out paperbacks when I was a young lad because they were cheap and had lurid covers with warriors fending off snakes the size of double-decker buses. I came back to Conan because I had an idea for a story where the classic muscle-bound cliché of a barbarian is easily outwitted by one of my succubi.
However, Howard’s Conan is a completely different beast. Multi-lingual, well-travelled, whip-smart, adept tactician; he’s a lot more than a dumb beast with a big sword. Despite this, Conan still manages to be in significant danger in most of his stories. Howard’s Hyborian world is a dark and dangerous place, filled with hostile tribes, dark magic and the occasional Lovecraftian abomination. While Conan is freakish by normal human standards, he needs to be to survive in that world, and often only does so by the skin of his teeth.
The books I remember were padded out into paperback novels by de Camp. Howard’s original versions were stories that appeared within the pages of Weird Tales. With the exception of The Hour of the Dragon (which is still on my to-read list), the stories are all novella length. Despite the brevity, Howard managed to pack a lot of story in each tale. Given the doorstop-size of most fantasy epics nowadays, it’s astonishing to think one of the grandfathers of the genre managed to build his lushly detailed world within the slimline pages of magazines. And Howard’s world broods. Each paragraph sweats atmosphere and menace.
I believe most of Howard’s stories are out of copyright now (tragically, he committed suicide at the young age of 30). I accessed them through Project Gutenberg Australia here. Well worth a read to appreciate just how good the early pulp masters were.
As for my own muscle-bound expy, well you can see how they get on in my forthcoming collection, A Succubus for Freedom.
Let’s just say they aren’t the real Conan . . .
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Literotica's Contest Scoring Explained
A question from Ed that makes better sense to answer as a short blog post (and to assuage my guilt over leaving it there for three days without replying):
"AS an author, would you say generally its better to give a story a 5 rating or none at all on literotica or just for contests?"
For Lit's contests, sad to say, no vote is indeed better than anything other than a 5 for the majority of authors. The reason is how the scoring works. For an entrant to be eligible it must pick up at least twenty-five valid votes. Once a story gets over that threshold, the score is then the average of all votes. This can throw up the counter-intuitive scenario where a story with twenty-five perfect 5 votes will place higher than a story with ninety-nine 5 votes and one 4 vote. It's not Literotica's fault. Whatever they run with is going to be less than perfect, because that's how it is when judging an activity as subjective as writing short stories.
So, while a 4 is technically a "good" vote, because the winning entries usually end up with final average scores of around 4.80+, it's easy to see it doesn't take too many "good" 4 votes to completely torpedo a story's chances of winning. Unless the author is struggling to reach the twenty-five vote threshold, they really want 5's or nothing. Knowing this, the savvy authors tend to enter very long stories with slow build-ups, warm and fuzzy endings, and obtuse titles so that the more disinterested readers have already backclicked long before they even get to a rating button.
(Now what kind of cynical, soulless monster of an author would even think of engaging in such shameless skullduggery. *whistle* Iron Girders and Steel Springs *whistle*)
At the end of the day it's best to treat the contests as a bit of fun and not too seriously. If you think a story only deserves a 4 (or a 3 or . . . ulp . . . less), give it a 4. Ultimately all literary contests are nonsense. Peel the layers back and all that lies at the heart is flawed subjective opinion.
Good for a giggle, though.
"AS an author, would you say generally its better to give a story a 5 rating or none at all on literotica or just for contests?"
For Lit's contests, sad to say, no vote is indeed better than anything other than a 5 for the majority of authors. The reason is how the scoring works. For an entrant to be eligible it must pick up at least twenty-five valid votes. Once a story gets over that threshold, the score is then the average of all votes. This can throw up the counter-intuitive scenario where a story with twenty-five perfect 5 votes will place higher than a story with ninety-nine 5 votes and one 4 vote. It's not Literotica's fault. Whatever they run with is going to be less than perfect, because that's how it is when judging an activity as subjective as writing short stories.
So, while a 4 is technically a "good" vote, because the winning entries usually end up with final average scores of around 4.80+, it's easy to see it doesn't take too many "good" 4 votes to completely torpedo a story's chances of winning. Unless the author is struggling to reach the twenty-five vote threshold, they really want 5's or nothing. Knowing this, the savvy authors tend to enter very long stories with slow build-ups, warm and fuzzy endings, and obtuse titles so that the more disinterested readers have already backclicked long before they even get to a rating button.
(Now what kind of cynical, soulless monster of an author would even think of engaging in such shameless skullduggery. *whistle* Iron Girders and Steel Springs *whistle*)
At the end of the day it's best to treat the contests as a bit of fun and not too seriously. If you think a story only deserves a 4 (or a 3 or . . . ulp . . . less), give it a 4. Ultimately all literary contests are nonsense. Peel the layers back and all that lies at the heart is flawed subjective opinion.
Good for a giggle, though.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
New story for Literotica's 2012 Nude Day contest
At some point soon I'll be starting previews for the my next collection, A Succubus for Freedom. Sadly there's the small matter of finishing the last two stories first so I can edit and upload the manuscript. They're putting up a bit of a fight. More news on that when I have an exact publication date.
In the meantime here's a brand new story I've been sitting on until Literotica's Nude Day short story competition opened up:
Iron Girders and Steel Springs
It's a monster at 11K words and is also a bit of a change of pace for me. Bizarrely, given how many horror stories I've written, this is the first time I've tackled this particular horror trope. Actually, if you don't count "Vampiric Boobies" as a vampire story, this is the first time I've tackled any of the big three supernatural horror tropes.
Normally I enter nasty horror stories into Literotica's contests for the amusement value. This time I thought I'd try and put a serious entrant in for a change. Hence the length, slow build-up and additional focus on characterisation (these are common features of most winning entries).
If you like it, and I hope you do, please show your appreciation by rating the story a '5' at the end (given how Literotica contests work, anything else is worse than not voting at all). If you don't like it, sorry and don't worry, we'll be back to the usual succubus-related mayhem in the forthcoming collection.
In the meantime here's a brand new story I've been sitting on until Literotica's Nude Day short story competition opened up:
Iron Girders and Steel Springs
It's a monster at 11K words and is also a bit of a change of pace for me. Bizarrely, given how many horror stories I've written, this is the first time I've tackled this particular horror trope. Actually, if you don't count "Vampiric Boobies" as a vampire story, this is the first time I've tackled any of the big three supernatural horror tropes.
Normally I enter nasty horror stories into Literotica's contests for the amusement value. This time I thought I'd try and put a serious entrant in for a change. Hence the length, slow build-up and additional focus on characterisation (these are common features of most winning entries).
If you like it, and I hope you do, please show your appreciation by rating the story a '5' at the end (given how Literotica contests work, anything else is worse than not voting at all). If you don't like it, sorry and don't worry, we'll be back to the usual succubus-related mayhem in the forthcoming collection.
Saturday, June 09, 2012
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-4 Puff-Puff Setback
Time for the conclusion.
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-4 Puff-Puff Setback
Moréhâgg placed a long finger at the corner of her full lips and gave him a coquettish smile.
“The next one will take me to zero health,” Jackson said.
He didn’t know what would happen then. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.
Moréhâgg shifted position in his lap. Her labia tightened around the root of his cock, preparing for the final suck that would take Jackson right to the Game Over screen.
“Please.”
Moréhâgg paused. She smiled down at Jackson.
“The fight has gone long enough. My Coup de Grâce move is ready.”
Coup de Grâce? Monsters had those as well?
“It’s my super special move. You’ll really like it.”
Moréhâgg started to move against him. Her hips rocked against him with light bounces that gradually increased in force and frequency. Her heavy breasts swayed as she bobbed up and down. She was really fucking him now. He felt the cloying suction of her pussy every time she lifted her hips. The cushioned cuff of her labia bulged out every time her body slapped down against him.
Jackson felt a trembling tension jangle through his legs and buttocks. A pleasant wriggling sensation squirmed in his balls. This was fucking crazy. He was about to come buckets inside a boss of a stupid JRPG.
And it was going to—
(kill?)
—Game Over him.
He couldn’t do anything. He was helpless and about to receive her ultimate attack, whatever that was.
“Can’t we talk it over?” Jackson said. “I have gold…” he added hopefully.
Moréhâgg kept her upper body still as her hips smoothly bounced up and down on Jackson. She stared straight ahead and moved her arms and hands in front of her breasts in sinuous motions that looked like some kind of weird yoga move.
“Ultimate Succu-Fuck Drain,” she said.
Her hands moved in a circle. A glowing pentagram spun out from each palm. They expanded and tipped over into horizontal circles wide enough to contain both Moréhâgg’s and Jackson’s bodies. One, its outline ghostly, sank down through Jackson until it was lying flat on the floor. The other rose above Moréhâgg until it became a floating counterpart to the circle on the floor.
This looked bad. Real bad.
“Um…Um…” Jackson started. He gave the edges of the circle he was lying within a nervous glance.
Moréhâgg gave an orgiastic moan. The circles flared with purple-black light, forming a shining column that enclosed both of them. The stone floor suddenly vanished and Jackson was falling into some kind of purple-black matter that gave beneath him like spongy-soft cushions. The impact jammed his cock deeper up inside Moréhâgg. The squishy walls of her pussy clenched even more tightly around him. He felt his glans pushing up against some kind of soft fleshy sphincter. It gave with a pop and so did Jackson. He shuddered as a warm gush of pleasure flooded out of his trembling body.
Now he really was coming buckets.
Red numbers appeared above his head and whirled like slots on speed. One hundred…one thousand…
Moréhâgg’s eyes were closed. She looked serene as she straddled him. Her chest quivered and throbbed in time to the pulsing suction tugging on Jackson’s cock. He felt it, a soft orifice that wrapped around the swollen head of his erection and sucked spurt after spurt out of his quivering member.
…ten thousand…
Moréhâgg sighed in ecstasy and squeezed her breasts. Jackson writhed beneath her, his body no longer under his control as she emptied his balls with great lusty swallows.
…one million…
Emptied him.
Jackson passed out when the numbers hit forty-four million.
* * * *
“Bless you, child. The Almighty watches over you.”
Jackson woke up in a church with a priest standing over him.
So that’s what happened when his health hit zero. He went back to the last save point. Phew. That wasn’t so bad. Maybe it was worth ‘losing’ that fight a few more times before proceeding, he thought with a grin.
Huh, what was he doing back in his shitty starting clothes? And—
His gold! They’d taken all his money and equipment!
“Motherfucking cunt-faced bitch!”
The priest placidly ignored his outburst.
That wasn’t all. Something didn’t feel right.
“Hey dickwad, how much XP until the next level?” he asked the priest.
“You require fifteen experience points to reach level two.”
“Level two! I was level thirteen!”
“It appears you were hit by a very powerful level-draining attack,” the priest said.
Jackson wasn’t listening. He sat with his head in hands. Thirteen levels gone, sucked out of him. All the grinding he’d done over the last week, wasted.
Level one.
“Fuck.”
Oh well, nothing for it. It was back to the starting area forest. He had a lot of those annoying blue bouncing slime-things to kill.
I failed to kill my protagonist. How negligent of me. Oh well, I guess we'll hear more of Jackson's trials and tribulations at some point in the future.
For those that haven't guessed it already, the JRPG I'm referencing (hopefully obliquely enough to not have my ass sued to oblivion) is the Dragon Quest series, in this case IX. The series has a running innuendo joke about Puff-Puff. It's harmless innuendo exploited mercilessly by the corrupted cesspool I have for an imagination. The actual game is fun and perfectly safe for children.
Jackson will return in "Exploding Kiwis in the Nether Regions".
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-4 Puff-Puff Setback
Moréhâgg placed a long finger at the corner of her full lips and gave him a coquettish smile.
“The next one will take me to zero health,” Jackson said.
He didn’t know what would happen then. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.
Moréhâgg shifted position in his lap. Her labia tightened around the root of his cock, preparing for the final suck that would take Jackson right to the Game Over screen.
“Please.”
Moréhâgg paused. She smiled down at Jackson.
“The fight has gone long enough. My Coup de Grâce move is ready.”
Coup de Grâce? Monsters had those as well?
“It’s my super special move. You’ll really like it.”
Moréhâgg started to move against him. Her hips rocked against him with light bounces that gradually increased in force and frequency. Her heavy breasts swayed as she bobbed up and down. She was really fucking him now. He felt the cloying suction of her pussy every time she lifted her hips. The cushioned cuff of her labia bulged out every time her body slapped down against him.
Jackson felt a trembling tension jangle through his legs and buttocks. A pleasant wriggling sensation squirmed in his balls. This was fucking crazy. He was about to come buckets inside a boss of a stupid JRPG.
And it was going to—
(kill?)
—Game Over him.
He couldn’t do anything. He was helpless and about to receive her ultimate attack, whatever that was.
“Can’t we talk it over?” Jackson said. “I have gold…” he added hopefully.
Moréhâgg kept her upper body still as her hips smoothly bounced up and down on Jackson. She stared straight ahead and moved her arms and hands in front of her breasts in sinuous motions that looked like some kind of weird yoga move.
“Ultimate Succu-Fuck Drain,” she said.
Her hands moved in a circle. A glowing pentagram spun out from each palm. They expanded and tipped over into horizontal circles wide enough to contain both Moréhâgg’s and Jackson’s bodies. One, its outline ghostly, sank down through Jackson until it was lying flat on the floor. The other rose above Moréhâgg until it became a floating counterpart to the circle on the floor.
This looked bad. Real bad.
“Um…Um…” Jackson started. He gave the edges of the circle he was lying within a nervous glance.
Moréhâgg gave an orgiastic moan. The circles flared with purple-black light, forming a shining column that enclosed both of them. The stone floor suddenly vanished and Jackson was falling into some kind of purple-black matter that gave beneath him like spongy-soft cushions. The impact jammed his cock deeper up inside Moréhâgg. The squishy walls of her pussy clenched even more tightly around him. He felt his glans pushing up against some kind of soft fleshy sphincter. It gave with a pop and so did Jackson. He shuddered as a warm gush of pleasure flooded out of his trembling body.
Now he really was coming buckets.
Red numbers appeared above his head and whirled like slots on speed. One hundred…one thousand…
Moréhâgg’s eyes were closed. She looked serene as she straddled him. Her chest quivered and throbbed in time to the pulsing suction tugging on Jackson’s cock. He felt it, a soft orifice that wrapped around the swollen head of his erection and sucked spurt after spurt out of his quivering member.
…ten thousand…
Moréhâgg sighed in ecstasy and squeezed her breasts. Jackson writhed beneath her, his body no longer under his control as she emptied his balls with great lusty swallows.
…one million…
Emptied him.
Jackson passed out when the numbers hit forty-four million.
* * * *
“Bless you, child. The Almighty watches over you.”
Jackson woke up in a church with a priest standing over him.
So that’s what happened when his health hit zero. He went back to the last save point. Phew. That wasn’t so bad. Maybe it was worth ‘losing’ that fight a few more times before proceeding, he thought with a grin.
Huh, what was he doing back in his shitty starting clothes? And—
His gold! They’d taken all his money and equipment!
“Motherfucking cunt-faced bitch!”
The priest placidly ignored his outburst.
That wasn’t all. Something didn’t feel right.
“Hey dickwad, how much XP until the next level?” he asked the priest.
“You require fifteen experience points to reach level two.”
“Level two! I was level thirteen!”
“It appears you were hit by a very powerful level-draining attack,” the priest said.
Jackson wasn’t listening. He sat with his head in hands. Thirteen levels gone, sucked out of him. All the grinding he’d done over the last week, wasted.
Level one.
“Fuck.”
Oh well, nothing for it. It was back to the starting area forest. He had a lot of those annoying blue bouncing slime-things to kill.
I failed to kill my protagonist. How negligent of me. Oh well, I guess we'll hear more of Jackson's trials and tribulations at some point in the future.
For those that haven't guessed it already, the JRPG I'm referencing (hopefully obliquely enough to not have my ass sued to oblivion) is the Dragon Quest series, in this case IX. The series has a running innuendo joke about Puff-Puff. It's harmless innuendo exploited mercilessly by the corrupted cesspool I have for an imagination. The actual game is fun and perfectly safe for children.
Jackson will return in "Exploding Kiwis in the Nether Regions".
Saturday, June 02, 2012
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-3 Puff-Puff Setback
Part 3 and Moréhâgg's special moves are a little on the XXX-rated side. You have been warned...
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-3 Puff-Puff Setback
“You seem a very angry young adventurer. It’s time to use one of my special attacks. I think you’ll like it.” Her red eyes twinkled as she smiled at him. “How about it? Would you like to see my Puff-Puff attack?”
Jackson shook his head. Puff-Puff. Really. Those wacky Japanese, always trying to get crap past the radar.
“Isn’t that some lame euphemism for rubbing your titties in my face.”
Moréhâgg smiled. She placed her hands on either side of her swollen breasts and squeezed them together. Jackson almost expected to hear some kind of stupid boing sound effect.
“Why don’t you close your eyes, relax and enjoy it,” Moréhâgg said with a voice like crushed velvet.
“Yeah right,” Jackson said. “And when I open them you’ll be rubbing two of those stupid slime creatures against the side of my head. Or it will be two sheep rubbing their asses against me. Don’t bother trying to tease me. I know this is an E10 game. There’s no way you’re getting your tits out.”
Moréhâgg pounced, knocking Jackson on his back and pinning him to the floor. She straddled his chest and unhooked the catch holding her latex corset-thing together. Her breasts—big, pink and extremely bouncy—bobbed free.
They were…impressive.
“You were right with the first guess,” Moréhâgg said with a lascivious smile. She caught her swaying mammaries and cupped them in her hands.
Jackson looked up at the swaying mounds of creamy-pink flesh. He clearly saw the perky little pink points of her nipples. What the fuck was going on here? This didn’t happen in battles. They all followed the same ridiculous yet inviolable laws.
Moréhâgg’s red eyes twinkled. Her moist lips pouted as if for a kiss. “Puff-Puff,” she breathed.
She fell forwards, burying his head in the warm space between her large and extremely soft boobs. Jackson lay back, unable do anything as she covered his face with her bosom. She twisted her upper body from side to side and Jackson felt the soft mass of her heavy breasts paff his head one way and then the other.
Giggling, Moréhâgg pressed down harder. Her arms went around the back of his head and she scooped him up into the smothering embrace of her cleavage. Jackson’s head, wedged up between her soft boobs, moved from side to side as she twisted her body. Her skin felt like the smoothest silk as it rubbed against his cheeks. His nose and mouth were pressed so tightly into her chest it was hard to breathe.
Moréhâgg had no intention of suffocating him just yet. She let his head fall away enough to allow him to take a breath. He inhaled air saturated with the heady musk of her body. Laughing, she paffed his head with her swinging breasts. Then she was pressing down again and squeezing her tits together around his face.
“What do you think, adventurer? Nice aren’t they. Have you ever felt a pair as warm and as soft as this?”
Jackson hadn’t, although he couldn’t admit that. His mouth was filled with her overflowing chest. She let him take another hasty breath and then started squeezing her boobs against the sides of his face again, squeezing them like they were super-soft rubber balls.
Was this an actual attack? What kind of fucked up game was this?
Actually, it felt pretty sweet.
At least up until the point when Moréhâgg didn’t lift up to allow him to take a breath. Instead she responded to his squirming struggles by pressing her chest down even harder, smothering him as effectively as if she’d placed a pillow over his face.
“I need you nice and pliant for my other moves,” Moréhâgg said.
Jackson wriggled as he tried, unsuccessfully, to squirm out from under her. His lungs were aching.
“And now my other Puff-Puff attack.”
She lifted her smothering bosom. Her breasts shivered and two thick purple clouds of perfume puffed out of her nipples…
…right as Jackson sucked in a much-needed lungful of air.
Ohhh…
The fumes rushed up to his brain and sent it sailing away on fluffy, perfumed clouds. He lay back on the floor and felt all his muscles relax as the tension drained from his body. Well, not all of it. Down between his legs he felt a great deal of tension straining against his underwear.
“Time to make you a little more comfortable,” Moréhâgg said. “It’s far too hot in here to be wearing all this leather armor.”
She went straight to his groin, undid the buckle and pulled down his leather leggings. Jackson didn’t resist. He thought he might be hallucinating as there were little dancing pink hearts floating in front of his vision. Moréhâgg pulled away his cotton underwear and his cock bobbed up like a hypnotized snake.
“Ooh, nice,” Moréhâgg said. She ran a moist tongue around her glossy red lips.
The hearts went away. Jackson noticed the comfortable paralysis that had kept him still had ended. He could move. He tightened his grip on his sword.
The succubus noticed too.
“Humph. Lucky roll,” she pouted. “The entrancement should have lasted for at least another two turns.”
Rolls? Turns? What was she?
Jackson started to raise his sword.
Moréhâgg poked his wrist with a single finger. “Block.”
Jackson’s hand fell back onto the floor.
Moréhâgg shifted position. The pink mountainous peaks of her naked breasts loomed over Jackson’s face.
“Double Puff-Puff.”
Her nipples were already expelling more clouds of perfume as she dropped down and mashed Jackson’s face up between the soft pillows of her breasts. Mewling in pleasure, she rubbed them against his face. Jackson’s vision vanished beneath jiggling pink flesh. Moréhâgg made a lot of indecent noises as she smothered him with her tits. Three times she pressed down hard enough to cut off his air, and three times she allowed him breaths tainted with her cloying, magical perfume.
At the end of it ‘Jackson is unable to move’ was scrolling through his head like a child’s first attempt at a goto program. A silly grin was plastered on his lips and his cock was throbbing hard enough to burst.
“Better,” Moréhâgg said. “That should keep you still for a while.”
Jackson couldn’t move, but other than that his thoughts were relatively clear…apart from the distraction provided by his raging hard-on. Moréhâgg squatted right above it. Her vagina was completely exposed, naked and not even pixelated. Jackson’s cock wasn’t pixelated either.
This had gone way beyond lame innuendo. She was really going to fuck him. That couldn’t be right. Even the sleaziest of game developers wouldn’t dare going this far.
Well apart from that crazy dude who’d made that fucked up monster girl game.
“Um, isn’t this a children’s game?” Jackson said. “E10+?”
Moréhâgg cocked her head. “You’re over eighteen aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Then quit complaining.”
She sat down.
On his cock.
Unable to move, Jackson watched as his throbbing hard-on slowly vanished inside her. It felt like he was pushing up inside a cup of some kind of warm, soft, gooey substance. Moréhâgg sighed as she reached the base of his penis. Her labia puffed up, forming a tight cuff around the root of his cock. Her pussy wriggled around him and a thick cloud of pleasure diffused down his shaft and through his body.
“Oh yes,” Moréhâgg sighed.
She closed her eyes. Her left hand squeezed the firm globe of her breast. Her pussy stopped wriggling and instead squeezed tightly around him, packing her soft squishy tissue up against every over-sensitized millimeter of his throbbing hard-on.
Jackson’s mouth fell open.
That felt nice.
At least until the familiar slap he felt every time an enemy’s attack hit him. Forty-four flashed above his head in red numbers. Moréhâgg gave a contented sigh. Forty-four flashed above her head in green numbers.
She was draining his health points to replenish her own?
Her pussy relaxed, feeling again like a cup filled with warm gooey jelly.
“Mmm.” Moréhâgg shifted position. Her chest, and the pleasant curves of her breasts, rose as she drew in a relaxed breath.
She breathed out and her pussy pressed tightly around his cock with a moist squish. Jackson’s legs quivered as he felt her soft flesh squeeze his erection with a pleasant pulsing motion.
The pleasure was again forestalled by a slap as forty-four flashed above his head in red numbers. The same number appeared above the succubi’s head in green.
She gave an indecent sigh. Her cheeks reddened. Both of her hands squeezed the bulges of her tits together.
“This is my second favorite action,” Moréhâgg said. “Do you like it.”
“I’m not sure I like what it’s doing to my health points,” Jackson said.
Moréhâgg tipped her head back and laughed. She shifted position in his lap, bouncing against him with little rocks of her hips. The gooey flesh of her pussy pressed tightly against his cock in another smothering embrace. Snugly gripped, Jackson felt more pulsing little sucks run up his throbbing shaft.
Oh…Oh…
His heels rattled against the stone floor. His hips moved against her with involuntary jerks. Her body was a soft warm centre wrapped around his most intimate organ. He thought he might have come. Something had oozed out.
He felt another weird slap as another forty-four point chunk vanished from his health and went to the demon girl straddling him.
Moréhâgg opened her eyes and smiled down at Jackson. Her face had a contented glow.
“Back to full health,” she said.
“That’s…uh…good to hear,” Jackson said. “That means you can stop, right…?”
Her three hits had taken over ninety percent of his health.
Moréhâgg placed a long finger at the corner of her full lips and gave him a coquettish smile.
“The next one will take me to zero health,” Jackson said.
He didn’t know what would happen then. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.
Moréhâgg shifted position in his lap. Her labia tightened around the root of his cock, preparing for the final suck that would take Jackson right to the Game Over screen.
“Please.”
Moréhâgg paused. She smiled down at Jackson.
“The fight has gone long enough. My Coup de Grâce move is ready.”
Uh-oh, things do not look good for ourhero chew toy. Concluded next Saturday...
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-3 Puff-Puff Setback
“You seem a very angry young adventurer. It’s time to use one of my special attacks. I think you’ll like it.” Her red eyes twinkled as she smiled at him. “How about it? Would you like to see my Puff-Puff attack?”
Jackson shook his head. Puff-Puff. Really. Those wacky Japanese, always trying to get crap past the radar.
“Isn’t that some lame euphemism for rubbing your titties in my face.”
Moréhâgg smiled. She placed her hands on either side of her swollen breasts and squeezed them together. Jackson almost expected to hear some kind of stupid boing sound effect.
“Why don’t you close your eyes, relax and enjoy it,” Moréhâgg said with a voice like crushed velvet.
“Yeah right,” Jackson said. “And when I open them you’ll be rubbing two of those stupid slime creatures against the side of my head. Or it will be two sheep rubbing their asses against me. Don’t bother trying to tease me. I know this is an E10 game. There’s no way you’re getting your tits out.”
Moréhâgg pounced, knocking Jackson on his back and pinning him to the floor. She straddled his chest and unhooked the catch holding her latex corset-thing together. Her breasts—big, pink and extremely bouncy—bobbed free.
They were…impressive.
“You were right with the first guess,” Moréhâgg said with a lascivious smile. She caught her swaying mammaries and cupped them in her hands.
Jackson looked up at the swaying mounds of creamy-pink flesh. He clearly saw the perky little pink points of her nipples. What the fuck was going on here? This didn’t happen in battles. They all followed the same ridiculous yet inviolable laws.
Moréhâgg’s red eyes twinkled. Her moist lips pouted as if for a kiss. “Puff-Puff,” she breathed.
She fell forwards, burying his head in the warm space between her large and extremely soft boobs. Jackson lay back, unable do anything as she covered his face with her bosom. She twisted her upper body from side to side and Jackson felt the soft mass of her heavy breasts paff his head one way and then the other.
Giggling, Moréhâgg pressed down harder. Her arms went around the back of his head and she scooped him up into the smothering embrace of her cleavage. Jackson’s head, wedged up between her soft boobs, moved from side to side as she twisted her body. Her skin felt like the smoothest silk as it rubbed against his cheeks. His nose and mouth were pressed so tightly into her chest it was hard to breathe.
Moréhâgg had no intention of suffocating him just yet. She let his head fall away enough to allow him to take a breath. He inhaled air saturated with the heady musk of her body. Laughing, she paffed his head with her swinging breasts. Then she was pressing down again and squeezing her tits together around his face.
“What do you think, adventurer? Nice aren’t they. Have you ever felt a pair as warm and as soft as this?”
Jackson hadn’t, although he couldn’t admit that. His mouth was filled with her overflowing chest. She let him take another hasty breath and then started squeezing her boobs against the sides of his face again, squeezing them like they were super-soft rubber balls.
Was this an actual attack? What kind of fucked up game was this?
Actually, it felt pretty sweet.
At least up until the point when Moréhâgg didn’t lift up to allow him to take a breath. Instead she responded to his squirming struggles by pressing her chest down even harder, smothering him as effectively as if she’d placed a pillow over his face.
“I need you nice and pliant for my other moves,” Moréhâgg said.
Jackson wriggled as he tried, unsuccessfully, to squirm out from under her. His lungs were aching.
“And now my other Puff-Puff attack.”
She lifted her smothering bosom. Her breasts shivered and two thick purple clouds of perfume puffed out of her nipples…
…right as Jackson sucked in a much-needed lungful of air.
Ohhh…
The fumes rushed up to his brain and sent it sailing away on fluffy, perfumed clouds. He lay back on the floor and felt all his muscles relax as the tension drained from his body. Well, not all of it. Down between his legs he felt a great deal of tension straining against his underwear.
“Time to make you a little more comfortable,” Moréhâgg said. “It’s far too hot in here to be wearing all this leather armor.”
She went straight to his groin, undid the buckle and pulled down his leather leggings. Jackson didn’t resist. He thought he might be hallucinating as there were little dancing pink hearts floating in front of his vision. Moréhâgg pulled away his cotton underwear and his cock bobbed up like a hypnotized snake.
“Ooh, nice,” Moréhâgg said. She ran a moist tongue around her glossy red lips.
The hearts went away. Jackson noticed the comfortable paralysis that had kept him still had ended. He could move. He tightened his grip on his sword.
The succubus noticed too.
“Humph. Lucky roll,” she pouted. “The entrancement should have lasted for at least another two turns.”
Rolls? Turns? What was she?
Jackson started to raise his sword.
Moréhâgg poked his wrist with a single finger. “Block.”
Jackson’s hand fell back onto the floor.
Moréhâgg shifted position. The pink mountainous peaks of her naked breasts loomed over Jackson’s face.
“Double Puff-Puff.”
Her nipples were already expelling more clouds of perfume as she dropped down and mashed Jackson’s face up between the soft pillows of her breasts. Mewling in pleasure, she rubbed them against his face. Jackson’s vision vanished beneath jiggling pink flesh. Moréhâgg made a lot of indecent noises as she smothered him with her tits. Three times she pressed down hard enough to cut off his air, and three times she allowed him breaths tainted with her cloying, magical perfume.
At the end of it ‘Jackson is unable to move’ was scrolling through his head like a child’s first attempt at a goto program. A silly grin was plastered on his lips and his cock was throbbing hard enough to burst.
“Better,” Moréhâgg said. “That should keep you still for a while.”
Jackson couldn’t move, but other than that his thoughts were relatively clear…apart from the distraction provided by his raging hard-on. Moréhâgg squatted right above it. Her vagina was completely exposed, naked and not even pixelated. Jackson’s cock wasn’t pixelated either.
This had gone way beyond lame innuendo. She was really going to fuck him. That couldn’t be right. Even the sleaziest of game developers wouldn’t dare going this far.
Well apart from that crazy dude who’d made that fucked up monster girl game.
“Um, isn’t this a children’s game?” Jackson said. “E10+?”
Moréhâgg cocked her head. “You’re over eighteen aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Then quit complaining.”
She sat down.
On his cock.
Unable to move, Jackson watched as his throbbing hard-on slowly vanished inside her. It felt like he was pushing up inside a cup of some kind of warm, soft, gooey substance. Moréhâgg sighed as she reached the base of his penis. Her labia puffed up, forming a tight cuff around the root of his cock. Her pussy wriggled around him and a thick cloud of pleasure diffused down his shaft and through his body.
“Oh yes,” Moréhâgg sighed.
She closed her eyes. Her left hand squeezed the firm globe of her breast. Her pussy stopped wriggling and instead squeezed tightly around him, packing her soft squishy tissue up against every over-sensitized millimeter of his throbbing hard-on.
Jackson’s mouth fell open.
That felt nice.
At least until the familiar slap he felt every time an enemy’s attack hit him. Forty-four flashed above his head in red numbers. Moréhâgg gave a contented sigh. Forty-four flashed above her head in green numbers.
She was draining his health points to replenish her own?
Her pussy relaxed, feeling again like a cup filled with warm gooey jelly.
“Mmm.” Moréhâgg shifted position. Her chest, and the pleasant curves of her breasts, rose as she drew in a relaxed breath.
She breathed out and her pussy pressed tightly around his cock with a moist squish. Jackson’s legs quivered as he felt her soft flesh squeeze his erection with a pleasant pulsing motion.
The pleasure was again forestalled by a slap as forty-four flashed above his head in red numbers. The same number appeared above the succubi’s head in green.
She gave an indecent sigh. Her cheeks reddened. Both of her hands squeezed the bulges of her tits together.
“This is my second favorite action,” Moréhâgg said. “Do you like it.”
“I’m not sure I like what it’s doing to my health points,” Jackson said.
Moréhâgg tipped her head back and laughed. She shifted position in his lap, bouncing against him with little rocks of her hips. The gooey flesh of her pussy pressed tightly against his cock in another smothering embrace. Snugly gripped, Jackson felt more pulsing little sucks run up his throbbing shaft.
Oh…Oh…
His heels rattled against the stone floor. His hips moved against her with involuntary jerks. Her body was a soft warm centre wrapped around his most intimate organ. He thought he might have come. Something had oozed out.
He felt another weird slap as another forty-four point chunk vanished from his health and went to the demon girl straddling him.
Moréhâgg opened her eyes and smiled down at Jackson. Her face had a contented glow.
“Back to full health,” she said.
“That’s…uh…good to hear,” Jackson said. “That means you can stop, right…?”
Her three hits had taken over ninety percent of his health.
Moréhâgg placed a long finger at the corner of her full lips and gave him a coquettish smile.
“The next one will take me to zero health,” Jackson said.
He didn’t know what would happen then. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.
Moréhâgg shifted position in his lap. Her labia tightened around the root of his cock, preparing for the final suck that would take Jackson right to the Game Over screen.
“Please.”
Moréhâgg paused. She smiled down at Jackson.
“The fight has gone long enough. My Coup de Grâce move is ready.”
Uh-oh, things do not look good for our
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-2 Puff-Puff Setback
The story continues...
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-2 Puff-Puff Setback
“Welcome to the lair of Moréhâgg the succubus, adventurer,” horny fetish-bait said. “I’m going to enjoy playing with you.”
“And ima gonna give your face a good turkey-slappin’ wiv my penis,” Jackson said.
Jackson had given up bothering to say anything sensible. It was a JRPG. No one had more than three lines of dialogue and it didn’t matter what he said anyway.
Demonic perv-magnet pouted at him. “Wouldn’t you rather I sucked it instead?”
Eh?
No time to ponder what he’d thought she said. He felt that strange swirly dislocation that indicated he was about to enter battle. His vision blurred and then cleared. He was standing in the same location, but everything around him appeared crisper, as if he was seeing it all at a higher resolution.
That included the succubus.
Jackson smiled and shook his head. So predictable. Didn’t matter what age the game was aimed at, the dirty old developers couldn’t resist sneaking in an obvious fetish fuel character for them and their audience of adolescent boys to perv over. Jackson used to be one of those adolescent boys before he’d grown up and realized how sad it was.
Moréhâgg was worthy of a good perv. She looked like filth incarnate. She possessed the mountainous silicone-enhanced peaks of a porn actress welded to an impossibly thin wasp waist—the kind of figure that could only exist in hentai. Her costume wasn’t exactly there to preserve modesty. Her shiny purple top revealed more cleavage than it hid, and the glossy material was stretched almost to bursting trying to contain her abundant breasts. The eye-shaped clasp that held the thing together at her chest looked like it might pop at any moment. Most of her flat belly, including the little dimple of her navel, was exposed. Her long lithe legs were covered in kinky fishnet stockings that ran down to a pair of sexy stiletto heels. The stockings were attached to her waist with suspenders.
Fetish fuel. Pure filthy fetish fuel.
She was also the area boss. Jackson could tell—she had her own battle theme.
That was the other stupid thing. Every time he went into battle, music would start playing even though there wasn’t a single musician in sight. Usually it was something wibbly-warbly that was meant to be rousing, but instead sounded like someone farting through a tin in a bath full of semen. Moréhâgg’s music was different—slow and slinky. Dirty.
Wait!
Jackson noticed she wasn’t wearing any underwear. He looked between her legs and saw a neat little bar of trimmed pubic hair and the shadowy cleft of her pussy.
This was…unexpected.
He remembered her words before the battle had begun. Had she actually said what he thought he’d heard her say?
Moréhâgg stood next to the throne and gave her long red nails a bored glance.
“Are you going to do something, or do I have to wait here all day?”
That jerked Jackson to attention. Yes, it was his turn.
He charged forwards and slashed Moréhâgg across her ample chest. He felt the impact and Moréhâgg doubled up. Thirty-one flashed above her head in floating red numbers. Then she stood back up straight and Jackson saw no visible mark his attack had hit her.
None of his attacks ever did. Jackson had slaughtered hundreds of stupid gonks in the ruins above and in the countryside leading up to them and his blade was still as pristine and shiny as if it had been freshly forged. Kids’ game. No blood effects allowed here.
“Is that all?” Moréhâgg taunted.
Jackson knew he’d damaged her from the numbers he’d seen flash above her head.
She looked down at his sword.
“No wonder. You’re still using that? Why didn’t you get the better one at the last town?”
“Waste of money,” Jackson muttered at his toes.
Never buy weapons. There was always the same or better hiding in the next chest. That’s how JRPGs worked.
The demon girl threw a fireball at him and he smoothly dodged it. He didn’t know how much health she had left. Probably not much. The fetish fuel enemies were usually pretty flimsy, but they often made up for it with lots of annoying status-changing attacks. Best if he finished this quickly. Time to use…
“Oh, are you going to use one of your special attacks?” Moréhâgg asked. Her eyes shone with excitement.
Who was this? She was the first character Jackson had encountered that seemed aware they were in a world constrained by weird videogame rules.
“Come on, let’s see it,” Moréhâgg said eagerly.
Jackson took up a stance with his sword. He hated this part.
“Aww, are you embarrassed,” Moréhâgg said. “You know it doesn’t work if you don’t call it first.”
Jackson knew. Unfortunately.
“Super Slash,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
Stupid Japanese anime conventions. She was right though, it didn’t work unless he called it first. Jackson hated that. It always made him feel like the dorkiest Dork McDorkien.
The succubus put a hand to her mouth and giggled.
Flames flickered along the edge of Jackson’s sword.
Laugh this off, bitch, he thought.
He charged and hit her with an upward stroke that flung her backwards. Seventy-one flickered above her head in red numbers.
Yeah! That’s more like it.
“Like that, huh,” Jackson said. “After I beat you I’m going to use this ‘bad’ sword on you like a dildo. If I’m feeling nice I might even insert it hilt first.”
“Ooh, kinky,” the succubus said, standing back up with a smile on her full lips.
She threw another fireball. This time Jackson blocked it with his shield, taking no damage.
“But it’s your other ‘sword’ I’m interested in.” The succubus glanced down at Jackson’s waist. “Even if it looks a little small.”
What the fuck!
“Fuck you!” Jackson shouted.
He connected with another sideways slash and thirty-one flashed above Moréhâgg’s head.
“Fuck using my sword. I’m going to shove a hammer up there instead. No, one of my shields!”
Moréhâgg spun back around to face him. For all her exaggerated curves, her moves were as fluid as a dancer’s. She placed a long finger against her silky smooth cheek.
“You seem a very angry young adventurer. It’s time to use one of my special attacks. I think you’ll like it.” Her red eyes twinkled as she smiled at him. “How about it? Would you like to see my Puff-Puff attack?”
Come back next Saturday to see what Moréhâgg's special attack is. It's rather naughty...
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-2 Puff-Puff Setback
“Welcome to the lair of Moréhâgg the succubus, adventurer,” horny fetish-bait said. “I’m going to enjoy playing with you.”
“And ima gonna give your face a good turkey-slappin’ wiv my penis,” Jackson said.
Jackson had given up bothering to say anything sensible. It was a JRPG. No one had more than three lines of dialogue and it didn’t matter what he said anyway.
Demonic perv-magnet pouted at him. “Wouldn’t you rather I sucked it instead?”
Eh?
No time to ponder what he’d thought she said. He felt that strange swirly dislocation that indicated he was about to enter battle. His vision blurred and then cleared. He was standing in the same location, but everything around him appeared crisper, as if he was seeing it all at a higher resolution.
That included the succubus.
Jackson smiled and shook his head. So predictable. Didn’t matter what age the game was aimed at, the dirty old developers couldn’t resist sneaking in an obvious fetish fuel character for them and their audience of adolescent boys to perv over. Jackson used to be one of those adolescent boys before he’d grown up and realized how sad it was.
Moréhâgg was worthy of a good perv. She looked like filth incarnate. She possessed the mountainous silicone-enhanced peaks of a porn actress welded to an impossibly thin wasp waist—the kind of figure that could only exist in hentai. Her costume wasn’t exactly there to preserve modesty. Her shiny purple top revealed more cleavage than it hid, and the glossy material was stretched almost to bursting trying to contain her abundant breasts. The eye-shaped clasp that held the thing together at her chest looked like it might pop at any moment. Most of her flat belly, including the little dimple of her navel, was exposed. Her long lithe legs were covered in kinky fishnet stockings that ran down to a pair of sexy stiletto heels. The stockings were attached to her waist with suspenders.
Fetish fuel. Pure filthy fetish fuel.
She was also the area boss. Jackson could tell—she had her own battle theme.
That was the other stupid thing. Every time he went into battle, music would start playing even though there wasn’t a single musician in sight. Usually it was something wibbly-warbly that was meant to be rousing, but instead sounded like someone farting through a tin in a bath full of semen. Moréhâgg’s music was different—slow and slinky. Dirty.
Wait!
Jackson noticed she wasn’t wearing any underwear. He looked between her legs and saw a neat little bar of trimmed pubic hair and the shadowy cleft of her pussy.
This was…unexpected.
He remembered her words before the battle had begun. Had she actually said what he thought he’d heard her say?
Moréhâgg stood next to the throne and gave her long red nails a bored glance.
“Are you going to do something, or do I have to wait here all day?”
That jerked Jackson to attention. Yes, it was his turn.
He charged forwards and slashed Moréhâgg across her ample chest. He felt the impact and Moréhâgg doubled up. Thirty-one flashed above her head in floating red numbers. Then she stood back up straight and Jackson saw no visible mark his attack had hit her.
None of his attacks ever did. Jackson had slaughtered hundreds of stupid gonks in the ruins above and in the countryside leading up to them and his blade was still as pristine and shiny as if it had been freshly forged. Kids’ game. No blood effects allowed here.
“Is that all?” Moréhâgg taunted.
Jackson knew he’d damaged her from the numbers he’d seen flash above her head.
She looked down at his sword.
“No wonder. You’re still using that? Why didn’t you get the better one at the last town?”
“Waste of money,” Jackson muttered at his toes.
Never buy weapons. There was always the same or better hiding in the next chest. That’s how JRPGs worked.
The demon girl threw a fireball at him and he smoothly dodged it. He didn’t know how much health she had left. Probably not much. The fetish fuel enemies were usually pretty flimsy, but they often made up for it with lots of annoying status-changing attacks. Best if he finished this quickly. Time to use…
“Oh, are you going to use one of your special attacks?” Moréhâgg asked. Her eyes shone with excitement.
Who was this? She was the first character Jackson had encountered that seemed aware they were in a world constrained by weird videogame rules.
“Come on, let’s see it,” Moréhâgg said eagerly.
Jackson took up a stance with his sword. He hated this part.
“Aww, are you embarrassed,” Moréhâgg said. “You know it doesn’t work if you don’t call it first.”
Jackson knew. Unfortunately.
“Super Slash,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
Stupid Japanese anime conventions. She was right though, it didn’t work unless he called it first. Jackson hated that. It always made him feel like the dorkiest Dork McDorkien.
The succubus put a hand to her mouth and giggled.
Flames flickered along the edge of Jackson’s sword.
Laugh this off, bitch, he thought.
He charged and hit her with an upward stroke that flung her backwards. Seventy-one flickered above her head in red numbers.
Yeah! That’s more like it.
“Like that, huh,” Jackson said. “After I beat you I’m going to use this ‘bad’ sword on you like a dildo. If I’m feeling nice I might even insert it hilt first.”
“Ooh, kinky,” the succubus said, standing back up with a smile on her full lips.
She threw another fireball. This time Jackson blocked it with his shield, taking no damage.
“But it’s your other ‘sword’ I’m interested in.” The succubus glanced down at Jackson’s waist. “Even if it looks a little small.”
What the fuck!
“Fuck you!” Jackson shouted.
He connected with another sideways slash and thirty-one flashed above Moréhâgg’s head.
“Fuck using my sword. I’m going to shove a hammer up there instead. No, one of my shields!”
Moréhâgg spun back around to face him. For all her exaggerated curves, her moves were as fluid as a dancer’s. She placed a long finger against her silky smooth cheek.
“You seem a very angry young adventurer. It’s time to use one of my special attacks. I think you’ll like it.” Her red eyes twinkled as she smiled at him. “How about it? Would you like to see my Puff-Puff attack?”
Come back next Saturday to see what Moréhâgg's special attack is. It's rather naughty...
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-1 Puff-Puff Setback
And we're off with a new mini-serial...
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-1 Puff-Puff Setback
Ian Jackson swatted the last goblin-thing with his sword. It hit the ground, disappeared, the victory music played, and then Jackson was back in the stone corridor. The monsters left behind thirty-one pieces of gold.
Supposedly.
Jackson never saw it. He never did. The gold was always transferred automatically to his inventory. Currently he was carrying 1,936 gold coins. In his pockets.
That wasn’t all. He was also currently carrying twenty daggers, fifty arrows, seven swords, seven axes, three spears, eight wizard’s staffs, two hammers, three shields, five helmets, sixty assorted bits of armor, six pairs of boots, a whip, and seventy-two medicinal herbs. And this was before even considering the slimeballs and other weirdness he didn’t dare sell off in case it turned out to be useful later. In a rucksack.
It was kind of stupid when you thought about it.
Jackson tried not to.
It was a stupid world.
The corridor turned around to the right. He must be getting near the heart of the dungeon. Nothing had leapt out to commit suicide on the end of his sword for the last fifty paces.
The walls were made out of crumbling old stone, lit up at regular intervals with burning torches. Foul smelling water oozed out of cracks and dribbled down the walls. The corridor continued for maybe a hundred meters or so before turning right again. Jackson was more interested in the big wooden door situated in the right hand wall, about halfway down the corridor.
Such an obvious boss location, he thought. So predictable.
He walked down the corridor and stopped outside the door. It was big—more than two meters high and wide enough for two men to walk through abreast. It was also in considerably better condition than the rest of the ruins. The wood was bright red in color and the hinges were freshly polished brass.
This definitely led to the area boss.
Jackson paused and checked his status. The last fight had taken him up to level thirteen. He had some new skill points. He put them into Sword and noticed how the blade in his hand suddenly felt lighter. He cast Cure to take his health back to full.
A little over a week ago Jackson had been living a fairly ordinary, if dull, life as a software developer writing transaction processing systems for a bank. It was as interesting as it sounded, but it paid well and Jackson felt fortunate to have landed the job straight out of university. In evenings he spent his time playing console games and at the weekend he hit the bars to watch sports with the guys from work.
All that had gone to hell when he’d been sucked into a computer game.
It was a long story.
The ending was simple. Beat the game and he was out. No problem. Jackson was fucking shit-hot at computer games…
…but did it have to be a fucking Japanese Role-Playing Game?
Everyone knew fantasy JRPGs were the turdiest of turds in the gaming world. Well, apart from the old nerds that still went misty-eyed at the mention of Final Fantasy VII. At least in Tron, Garrett Hedlund had Beau Garrett in a skintight silver jumpsuit to drool over. Jackson had bug-eyed morons with memories that would shame a goldfish. On leaving the first village he’d managed maybe forty meters before a giant cucumber had sprung out of the undergrowth and attacked him with a spear.
JRPGs were fucking stupid, and he was trapped in one.
At least it would be easy. All JRPGs were. Kill monsters until you leveled up enough to kill harder monsters. Repeat until the end of the game. Whenever that was.
That was the problem with JRPGs, they dragged on for fucking forever. He knew from bitter experience. Those bastards had sucked up months of his life before he’d finally grown up and discovered GTA and real games.
Maybe he’d figure out some kind of strategic exploit. All these games could be broken in half once a smart player figured them out. The only problem was Jackson was still working through the dull-as-shit early stages. It had already taken him over a week to find this, the second dungeon.
At least he was at the boss.
Okay, let’s do this.
He pushed the door open.
On the other side was a large throne room. Gaily-colored silk banners adorned the walls. The whole room was a massive contrast to the rest of the crumbling ruins. A thick red carpet scrunched beneath his sandals as he entered the room. Impressive chandeliers and candelabra bathed the room in a warm glow. At the far end of the room a golden throne sat on a raised dais.
So predictable.
A sexy and extremely sluttily-dressed girl sat on the throne. Demon girl to be more exact. As Jackson walked up to the throne she stood up and purple-black bat wings unfurled from behind her back. As well as the wings she also had horns and a long slender tail with the classic spade-like tip.
Not a bad collection of pixels, if you were into that kind of thing.
“Welcome to the lair of Moréhâgg the succubus, adventurer,” horny fetish-bait said. “I’m going to enjoy playing with you.”
“And ima gonna give your face a good turkey-slappin’ wiv my penis,” Jackson said.
Jackson had given up bothering to say anything sensible. It was a JRPG. No one had more than three lines of dialogue and it didn’t matter what he said anyway.
Demonic perv-magnet pouted at him. “Wouldn’t you rather I sucked it instead?”
Eh?
A quiet start. Things will start heating up in part two next Saturday...
Jackson in HRPG-World: 1-1 Puff-Puff Setback
Ian Jackson swatted the last goblin-thing with his sword. It hit the ground, disappeared, the victory music played, and then Jackson was back in the stone corridor. The monsters left behind thirty-one pieces of gold.
Supposedly.
Jackson never saw it. He never did. The gold was always transferred automatically to his inventory. Currently he was carrying 1,936 gold coins. In his pockets.
That wasn’t all. He was also currently carrying twenty daggers, fifty arrows, seven swords, seven axes, three spears, eight wizard’s staffs, two hammers, three shields, five helmets, sixty assorted bits of armor, six pairs of boots, a whip, and seventy-two medicinal herbs. And this was before even considering the slimeballs and other weirdness he didn’t dare sell off in case it turned out to be useful later. In a rucksack.
It was kind of stupid when you thought about it.
Jackson tried not to.
It was a stupid world.
The corridor turned around to the right. He must be getting near the heart of the dungeon. Nothing had leapt out to commit suicide on the end of his sword for the last fifty paces.
The walls were made out of crumbling old stone, lit up at regular intervals with burning torches. Foul smelling water oozed out of cracks and dribbled down the walls. The corridor continued for maybe a hundred meters or so before turning right again. Jackson was more interested in the big wooden door situated in the right hand wall, about halfway down the corridor.
Such an obvious boss location, he thought. So predictable.
He walked down the corridor and stopped outside the door. It was big—more than two meters high and wide enough for two men to walk through abreast. It was also in considerably better condition than the rest of the ruins. The wood was bright red in color and the hinges were freshly polished brass.
This definitely led to the area boss.
Jackson paused and checked his status. The last fight had taken him up to level thirteen. He had some new skill points. He put them into Sword and noticed how the blade in his hand suddenly felt lighter. He cast Cure to take his health back to full.
A little over a week ago Jackson had been living a fairly ordinary, if dull, life as a software developer writing transaction processing systems for a bank. It was as interesting as it sounded, but it paid well and Jackson felt fortunate to have landed the job straight out of university. In evenings he spent his time playing console games and at the weekend he hit the bars to watch sports with the guys from work.
All that had gone to hell when he’d been sucked into a computer game.
It was a long story.
The ending was simple. Beat the game and he was out. No problem. Jackson was fucking shit-hot at computer games…
…but did it have to be a fucking Japanese Role-Playing Game?
Everyone knew fantasy JRPGs were the turdiest of turds in the gaming world. Well, apart from the old nerds that still went misty-eyed at the mention of Final Fantasy VII. At least in Tron, Garrett Hedlund had Beau Garrett in a skintight silver jumpsuit to drool over. Jackson had bug-eyed morons with memories that would shame a goldfish. On leaving the first village he’d managed maybe forty meters before a giant cucumber had sprung out of the undergrowth and attacked him with a spear.
JRPGs were fucking stupid, and he was trapped in one.
At least it would be easy. All JRPGs were. Kill monsters until you leveled up enough to kill harder monsters. Repeat until the end of the game. Whenever that was.
That was the problem with JRPGs, they dragged on for fucking forever. He knew from bitter experience. Those bastards had sucked up months of his life before he’d finally grown up and discovered GTA and real games.
Maybe he’d figure out some kind of strategic exploit. All these games could be broken in half once a smart player figured them out. The only problem was Jackson was still working through the dull-as-shit early stages. It had already taken him over a week to find this, the second dungeon.
At least he was at the boss.
Okay, let’s do this.
He pushed the door open.
On the other side was a large throne room. Gaily-colored silk banners adorned the walls. The whole room was a massive contrast to the rest of the crumbling ruins. A thick red carpet scrunched beneath his sandals as he entered the room. Impressive chandeliers and candelabra bathed the room in a warm glow. At the far end of the room a golden throne sat on a raised dais.
So predictable.
A sexy and extremely sluttily-dressed girl sat on the throne. Demon girl to be more exact. As Jackson walked up to the throne she stood up and purple-black bat wings unfurled from behind her back. As well as the wings she also had horns and a long slender tail with the classic spade-like tip.
Not a bad collection of pixels, if you were into that kind of thing.
“Welcome to the lair of Moréhâgg the succubus, adventurer,” horny fetish-bait said. “I’m going to enjoy playing with you.”
“And ima gonna give your face a good turkey-slappin’ wiv my penis,” Jackson said.
Jackson had given up bothering to say anything sensible. It was a JRPG. No one had more than three lines of dialogue and it didn’t matter what he said anyway.
Demonic perv-magnet pouted at him. “Wouldn’t you rather I sucked it instead?”
Eh?
A quiet start. Things will start heating up in part two next Saturday...
Friday, May 18, 2012
New manyeyedhydra mini-serial starting here this Saturday
I wanted to get back to the lighter tone of stories like "Slayer vs Succubus" and "Succubus Keep", and I picked up some inspiration from a discussion of JRPGs that was supposed to result in a short short story, but ended up being an average length short story. Rather conveniently, it breaks into four 1,000 word chunks and should fill the gap that would have been taken by previews for A Succubus for Freedom if the eponymous story hadn't delayed me finishing the whole damn thing by a couple of months (grr....)
I'm not sure whether this will be the start of a regular series, or just a one-shot. I threw someone into a JRPG and added an X-rated encounter because I am a sick and twisted individual that delights in taking previously harmless, if slightly dodgy, innuendo and pumping it up into full-blown hardcore filth. It should come across as an affectionate parody with lots of in-jokes, but if it devolves into something seedy and creepy, hopefully it will be entertainingly seedy and creepy.
Should start Saturday anyway, and I hope people enjoy it.
I'm not sure whether this will be the start of a regular series, or just a one-shot. I threw someone into a JRPG and added an X-rated encounter because I am a sick and twisted individual that delights in taking previously harmless, if slightly dodgy, innuendo and pumping it up into full-blown hardcore filth. It should come across as an affectionate parody with lots of in-jokes, but if it devolves into something seedy and creepy, hopefully it will be entertainingly seedy and creepy.
Should start Saturday anyway, and I hope people enjoy it.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Big Chill in TVTroperLand
'ello, 'ello. What's 'appening 'ere?
TVTropes is an enormous wiki covering common storytelling devices and conventions. It's a fascinating resource for a writer as it's a comprehensive list of just about every plot device, twist, idea ever used in history. As a lover of the weird and exotic, I've also used it in the past to discover new shows, films, games and books I might never have heard of.
Although not anymore by the looks of things.
First I noticed something was wrong was when I tried to access the Monster Girl Quest page and was instead redirected to the Monster Girl Encyclopedia page. These are two similar, but completely different creations. One is a series of artworks and books by Kenkou Cross, the other is a hentai game created by Torotoro Resistance (although it does feature artwork by Kenkou Cross). To make matters worse, the Encyclopedia page now redirects to Daily Life with Monster Girl, a completely different series of work by a completely different artist.
I'm not totally sure what's happening. TVTropes appears to be in the middle of a big purge of anything referencing sexually explicit material. I found a few posts like this and a page with a list of the affected material. If this is true it would be a great shame.
Admittedly the old TVTropes was a bit of a jungle, but that was part of the charm. It was great to go hacking into the darker undergrowth and come out with a gem of a new series, film, book to follow. The internet needs its wild spots and quite frankly, a wiki that aims to be a compehensive handbook of storytelling devices yet omits anything related to sex is totally useless.
Internet. There is damage. Time to reroute.
EDITED TO ADD:
Mveculous tweeted me this link and I'm aghast at the level of stupidity on display:
http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/posts.php?discussion=13365137390A58421200&page=1
Being uneasy on the lolicon aspects is fair enough. Those profiles don't appeal much to me either. However, the follow-up posts on redirections are beyond stupid. Um guys, you do know these are COMPLETELY DIFFERENT creations you're trying to lump together? This is basically the same (and as idiotic) as redirecting Slayer and Meshuggah to the Metallica page.
If you want to cleanse the undesirables from your playpen, fine, but don't be stupid about it.
TVTropes is an enormous wiki covering common storytelling devices and conventions. It's a fascinating resource for a writer as it's a comprehensive list of just about every plot device, twist, idea ever used in history. As a lover of the weird and exotic, I've also used it in the past to discover new shows, films, games and books I might never have heard of.
Although not anymore by the looks of things.
First I noticed something was wrong was when I tried to access the Monster Girl Quest page and was instead redirected to the Monster Girl Encyclopedia page. These are two similar, but completely different creations. One is a series of artworks and books by Kenkou Cross, the other is a hentai game created by Torotoro Resistance (although it does feature artwork by Kenkou Cross). To make matters worse, the Encyclopedia page now redirects to Daily Life with Monster Girl, a completely different series of work by a completely different artist.
I'm not totally sure what's happening. TVTropes appears to be in the middle of a big purge of anything referencing sexually explicit material. I found a few posts like this and a page with a list of the affected material. If this is true it would be a great shame.
Admittedly the old TVTropes was a bit of a jungle, but that was part of the charm. It was great to go hacking into the darker undergrowth and come out with a gem of a new series, film, book to follow. The internet needs its wild spots and quite frankly, a wiki that aims to be a compehensive handbook of storytelling devices yet omits anything related to sex is totally useless.
Internet. There is damage. Time to reroute.
EDITED TO ADD:
Mveculous tweeted me this link and I'm aghast at the level of stupidity on display:
http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/posts.php?discussion=13365137390A58421200&page=1
Being uneasy on the lolicon aspects is fair enough. Those profiles don't appeal much to me either. However, the follow-up posts on redirections are beyond stupid. Um guys, you do know these are COMPLETELY DIFFERENT creations you're trying to lump together? This is basically the same (and as idiotic) as redirecting Slayer and Meshuggah to the Metallica page.
If you want to cleanse the undesirables from your playpen, fine, but don't be stupid about it.
Wednesday, May 09, 2012
Reviews, Lovely Reviews (Me this time)
Reviews are like buses, wait ages for one to come along and then you get two in the same week.
Here’s a lovely one for A Succubus for Halloween on The Horror Fiction Review:
http://thehorrorfictionreview.blogspot.com/2012/05/may-2012-reviews.html
The horror writer in me that died over a decade ago might have unearthed himself and done a little jig after reading that. As a quasi-self-published author, I always have doubts about whether my work is actually good enough to see print. Reviews like this are great for kicking those bad thoughts back down into the cellar where they belong.
And a nice (and detailed!) one from Tera for A Succubus for Christmas over on The Succubi’s Tale blog:
http://www.succubus.net/blog/2012/05/04/a-review-of-a-succubus-for-christmas/
That one did remind me I’ve been neglecting the fun stories of late. I haven’t written anything like "Slayer vs. Succubus" for a while, something I intend to correct. Don’t worry. I’m not going to stop with the dark stories either. Balance is good. Always keep the audience on their toes. That way they don’t see it coming when you sock them in the guts…
I haven’t seen a big increase in sales after the reviews. That’s fine. Contrary to what some people say about us self-published ruffians, money is not our sole motivation. I’m having fun writing and I’m glad to see I’m not embarrassing myself with my efforts.
I think I might hold off on letting the folks know about the pseudonym for a while—not sure how they’d take to “kinky and depraved”. :D
Here’s a lovely one for A Succubus for Halloween on The Horror Fiction Review:
http://thehorrorfictionreview.blogspot.com/2012/05/may-2012-reviews.html
The horror writer in me that died over a decade ago might have unearthed himself and done a little jig after reading that. As a quasi-self-published author, I always have doubts about whether my work is actually good enough to see print. Reviews like this are great for kicking those bad thoughts back down into the cellar where they belong.
And a nice (and detailed!) one from Tera for A Succubus for Christmas over on The Succubi’s Tale blog:
http://www.succubus.net/blog/2012/05/04/a-review-of-a-succubus-for-christmas/
That one did remind me I’ve been neglecting the fun stories of late. I haven’t written anything like "Slayer vs. Succubus" for a while, something I intend to correct. Don’t worry. I’m not going to stop with the dark stories either. Balance is good. Always keep the audience on their toes. That way they don’t see it coming when you sock them in the guts…
I haven’t seen a big increase in sales after the reviews. That’s fine. Contrary to what some people say about us self-published ruffians, money is not our sole motivation. I’m having fun writing and I’m glad to see I’m not embarrassing myself with my efforts.
I think I might hold off on letting the folks know about the pseudonym for a while—not sure how they’d take to “kinky and depraved”. :D
Monday, April 30, 2012
Film Review: The Cabin in the Woods
I finally got around to watching The Cabin in the Woods a few nights ago. It’s a hard film to talk about without spoiling things, so if you haven’t seen it yet, you might want to wait until you have before reading the rest of this.
Let’s start with the first obvious thing: The Cabin in the Woods is not a horror film.
Yes, there’s plenty of ketchup splattering the walls (especially near the end) and people die, but it’s a film that’s more likely to set the audience laughing than gripping the armrests in white-knuckle terror.
And the second obvious thing: The Cabin in the Woods is bloody brilliant.
I really liked the film. It’s inventive and highly entertaining. There are plenty of laugh-out-loud lines. It also has perhaps one of the finest Oh Crap moments ever set to film (If you’ve seen it, you’ll know the one I mean). As entertainment, it’s perfect.
And the final obvious thing: Entertainment is not what most people will talk about when discussing The Cabin in the Woods.
Yep, it’s the meta, baby. It’s all about the subverting, deconstructing and bending of common horror tropes while tipping a knowing wink to the audience. It’s not a new concept for horror. Scream revitalised the jaded slasher sub-genre by including self-aware characters and playing around with the obvious clichés. Feast replaced Twenty Minutes With Jerks with freeze-frame captions and then plays merry hell with the usual horror death tropes. Michael Haneke’s original Funny Games (a deliberately uncomfortable film to watch) makes the audience complicit in the carnage.
Cabin is a lighter, fluffier version of Funny Games in that the entities behind everything can be seen as proxies for the audience. The main characters start off as relatively normal human beings, and are then manipulated into becoming the tired stereotypes of the films Cabin is lampooning. Joss Whedon and Drew Goddard do a good job of introducing the slasher bait and making them seem like likable human beings. This is a vast improvement over Goddard’s last film, Cloverfield, where the vacuous obnoxiousness of the leads dragged down an interesting concept.
There was potential here for Whedon and Goddard to take the film down a much more visceral, nastier path by juxtaposing the early humour with the grim realities of the character’s fates, but by rejecting the torture porn ethos of recent horror they also reject the chance of taking the film out of the other horror ghetto of Played for Laughs. Horror doesn’t need more smirking, self-aware films; it needs films that sock the viewer in the guts. In that respect Cabin isn’t a game-changer. For me, a game-changer would be a film that delivers genuine scares, has well-rounded characters worth giving a damn about, and just about stays within the line of entertainment. Sounds so simple, but I can’t see Hollywood making it until they remember how to make horror films for adults, rather than fifteen-year-old boys.
In summary, The Cabin in the Woods is great fun to watch, but if you’re expecting to be shocked out of your socks, you’re going to go home disappointed. I wanted to see a sexy witch...
It’s also given me an idea for a little writing project (as if I haven’t got enough of those on the go already!). More on that later…maybe…
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Time Out's 100 Best Horror Films
Here's some inspiration for films to watch in the dead hours of night:
Time Out's 100 Best Horror Films.
That's a distinguished cabal of horror experts they've polled there. Unsurprisingly, they've come up with an extremely solid list.
I'm not sure what my top 10 would be. Hellraiser, The Thing and Ring would be certain inclusions. Probably Night of the Demon as well (brilliant black and white horror film). After them...well it's lists, it's always impossible to include everything. Just about everything on that list is excellent, so rather than more nods to The Exorcist, Evil Dead II, etc., here are some horror films I like that aren't there:
In the Mouth of Madness
Carpenter does Lovecraft from first principles.
Hostel
Unfairly maligned for kickstarting the torture porn thing. Unusually for horror franchises, the sequel is good as well.
The Host
Superb Korean monster movie.
The first half of Jeepers Creepers
Horror films are easy to make but so hard to do well. The thirty or forty minutes of this are brilliant...then it plummets off a cliff into mediocrity.
The Quatermass Xperiment
This shouldn't really be here. They butchered Nigel Kneale's original story and replaced a humanist ending with Kill It With Electricity! but I have a soft spot for the film as it scared the pants off me as a child.
Tremors
A stretch for a horror list I know, but the whole film is a masterclass on how to make a monster B-movie and populate it with living, breathing characters.
I'm still waiting for someone to make the quintessential succubus film.
Time Out's 100 Best Horror Films.
That's a distinguished cabal of horror experts they've polled there. Unsurprisingly, they've come up with an extremely solid list.
I'm not sure what my top 10 would be. Hellraiser, The Thing and Ring would be certain inclusions. Probably Night of the Demon as well (brilliant black and white horror film). After them...well it's lists, it's always impossible to include everything. Just about everything on that list is excellent, so rather than more nods to The Exorcist, Evil Dead II, etc., here are some horror films I like that aren't there:
In the Mouth of Madness
Carpenter does Lovecraft from first principles.
Hostel
Unfairly maligned for kickstarting the torture porn thing. Unusually for horror franchises, the sequel is good as well.
The Host
Superb Korean monster movie.
The first half of Jeepers Creepers
Horror films are easy to make but so hard to do well. The thirty or forty minutes of this are brilliant...then it plummets off a cliff into mediocrity.
The Quatermass Xperiment
This shouldn't really be here. They butchered Nigel Kneale's original story and replaced a humanist ending with Kill It With Electricity! but I have a soft spot for the film as it scared the pants off me as a child.
Tremors
A stretch for a horror list I know, but the whole film is a masterclass on how to make a monster B-movie and populate it with living, breathing characters.
I'm still waiting for someone to make the quintessential succubus film.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
More Hentai Game Badness: Pretty Warrior May Cry
Pretty Warrior May Cry is a game I stumbled on in the dlsite store while looking for the link to the Violated Hero game I reviewed last week. It already comes with an English translation and there are two versions. The Enhanced Edition has more scenes (but not more monster types) and a custom scenario editor, but personally I think the original 3D graphics are better than the 2D-ised graphics of the enhanced version.
Rather than a parody of the Capcom classic Devil May Cry as the name suggests, Pretty Warrior May Cry is a fun (and filthy) little Dungeon Keeper clone. If you can remember that far back, you’ll remember Dungeon Keeper was an old PC game with a great concept—you’re the bad guy building a Deathtrap Dungeon to fend off hordes of invading heroes. My enthusiasm for the original waned after the first couple of levels when it strayed from that concept and morphed into a Real Time Strategy clickfest (a genre I don’t have much truck with unless it involves mowing down enemies in a buggy to Emperor’s "Thus Spake The Nightspirit"). Pretty Warrior May Cry sticks closer to the original idea. You play an evil (persecuted) wizard on the run. The goal is to dig out a labyrinth to hide in and populate it with monsters to slow down and take out those pesky pursuing heroes.
Of course, as it’s a hentai game, your monsters are going to do more than just attack the heroes…
An effective way to keep a marauding knight "occupied"Whenever a monster comes across a hero of the opposite sex it will attempt to rape them, triggering a sex scene in the right hand panel. You have a faithful little demonic eye creature-thing that allows you to toggle between various molested heroes.
Sadly, aside from some corrupted and converted heroines, Lilith above is the only actual monster girl in the game. The rest of the game is hardcore ryona, which means using your monsters to inflict as much rape, degredation and abuse onto the hapless female wizard and swordswoman characters as possible (and even poor Lilith, if you leave her in a room with a giant). And I mean a lot of abuse. We’re talking tentacles, devil dogs and even girls being held down and buggered up the ass by enormous dragons in some extremely graphic scenes.
That kind of stuff isn’t really my cup of tea, but the actual game is well put together and surprisingly playable. My main disappointment was the lack of female monsters. There isn’t really anything past the Liliths you start with.
Trust me. The other ways of taking out the female warriors are far worse...It’s always a difficult choice for any kind of ‘kink’ erotic game. Do you throw in lots of different kinks to attract different audiences and risk pleasing no one, or focus on one particular kink to guarantee an audience? In this case the developers, 7th dream, have set their sights on the ryona crowd. Succubus fans need only bother with the trial version.
I like the concept though. I would love to see a similar game done with more of a monster girl focus. Given the success of Monster Girl Quest, there might even be a big enough audience to make it worth doing. If 7th Dream are out there listening, or maybe other developers, I might have a few ideas I can contribute… ;)
Saturday, April 07, 2012
Another Monster Girl Hentai Game: Violated Hero
A while back I mentioned another Monster Girl game. I think. It might have been one of those blog posts I was going to make and never got around to for one reason or another. I know I was intending to review at some point and got side-tracked. Might as well slip it in now.
Violated Hero – I wanted to chivalrously save the world is a hentai game with a similar premise to Monster Girl Quest in that it features a well-meaning but pathetically inept hero thrown to the vagina dentata (not literally, there’s no vore in this game) of various nymphomaniac monster girls. The hapless (lucky) hero also has to contend with various “allies” he picks up along the way as all of them will attempt to force him to have sex with them.
There’s no real story. It’s a straightforward dungeon bash with the evil (hot, sexy) dragon girl at the bottom of the dungeon. The dungeon layout is reminiscent of Dungeon Master (or Lightning Warrior Raidy if you aren’t quite as ancient as me) but without all the sneaky switch puzzles and hidden walls. Encounters are random and are with conventional (i.e. non-sexy, non-girl) monsters displayed as silhouettes. Come across a dead end and it will trigger a special encounter where you’ll either have to fight one of the boss monster girls, or pick up an ally who’ll follow you on a sub-quest for a while before getting frisky and attempting to jump your bones.
This is the bad ending?
The mechanics are extremely rudimentary—hit one of three different attack buttons until monsters fall over, rinse and repeat until character is strong enough to take down harder monsters.
It’s not really fair to compare this with Monster Girl Quest as Toro Toro Resistance is obviously a perfectionist loony prepared to go way beyond what anyone would expect from a hentai game (10 girls? Ha, I have 300!). On the plus side, the hentai scenes in Violated Hero are gorgeously drawn and all fully voiced. Unfortunately, the rest of the artwork is an odd mix, with the monster girls displayed as 8-bit parody sprites in the actual battles.
Best described as a collection of really good hentai scenes in search of a game. Still, it’s good to see more developers catering to this niche. It can be bought from here and an English translation can be found here, although I can’t vouch for its veracity as I played the game with AGTH + Translation Aggregator.
Violated Hero – I wanted to chivalrously save the world is a hentai game with a similar premise to Monster Girl Quest in that it features a well-meaning but pathetically inept hero thrown to the vagina dentata (not literally, there’s no vore in this game) of various nymphomaniac monster girls. The hapless (lucky) hero also has to contend with various “allies” he picks up along the way as all of them will attempt to force him to have sex with them.
There’s no real story. It’s a straightforward dungeon bash with the evil (hot, sexy) dragon girl at the bottom of the dungeon. The dungeon layout is reminiscent of Dungeon Master (or Lightning Warrior Raidy if you aren’t quite as ancient as me) but without all the sneaky switch puzzles and hidden walls. Encounters are random and are with conventional (i.e. non-sexy, non-girl) monsters displayed as silhouettes. Come across a dead end and it will trigger a special encounter where you’ll either have to fight one of the boss monster girls, or pick up an ally who’ll follow you on a sub-quest for a while before getting frisky and attempting to jump your bones.
This is the bad ending?The mechanics are extremely rudimentary—hit one of three different attack buttons until monsters fall over, rinse and repeat until character is strong enough to take down harder monsters.
It’s not really fair to compare this with Monster Girl Quest as Toro Toro Resistance is obviously a perfectionist loony prepared to go way beyond what anyone would expect from a hentai game (10 girls? Ha, I have 300!). On the plus side, the hentai scenes in Violated Hero are gorgeously drawn and all fully voiced. Unfortunately, the rest of the artwork is an odd mix, with the monster girls displayed as 8-bit parody sprites in the actual battles.
Best described as a collection of really good hentai scenes in search of a game. Still, it’s good to see more developers catering to this niche. It can be bought from here and an English translation can be found here, although I can’t vouch for its veracity as I played the game with AGTH + Translation Aggregator.
Sunday, April 01, 2012
Monster Girl Quest Part 2: Full English Translation Out
It’s been three months since Monster Girl Quest part 2 came out and, right on schedule, RogueTranslator has finished translating the final third of the game. You can get the full English patch here.
Who says blondes have all the fun...
Give that man a round of applause. This continues the story right up to the demon castle and Luka’s battles against the four Heavenly Knights.
Wisely, Toro Toro Resistance hasn’t given a release date for the final part after his poor artists got harassed over delays the last time around. A sensible attitude (says someone also a bit laggardly at getting an anticipated piece of work out - *cough* Succubus Summoning 201 *cough*). His site is showing some of the new monster girl artwork and it appears the angels are just as perverted and sex-mad as every other creature in poor Luka’s world.
The new strategy to get people to go to Sunday School...
I'll finish with the obligatory plug for my own stuff: If you really like the game, you'll probably also like my stories.
(Sees how many times MGQ2 has been downloaded... I really need to find some artists and make a game...)
Who says blondes have all the fun...Give that man a round of applause. This continues the story right up to the demon castle and Luka’s battles against the four Heavenly Knights.
Wisely, Toro Toro Resistance hasn’t given a release date for the final part after his poor artists got harassed over delays the last time around. A sensible attitude (says someone also a bit laggardly at getting an anticipated piece of work out - *cough* Succubus Summoning 201 *cough*). His site is showing some of the new monster girl artwork and it appears the angels are just as perverted and sex-mad as every other creature in poor Luka’s world.
The new strategy to get people to go to Sunday School...I'll finish with the obligatory plug for my own stuff: If you really like the game, you'll probably also like my stories.
(Sees how many times MGQ2 has been downloaded... I really need to find some artists and make a game...)
Friday, March 30, 2012
Cέrμləan Circles unbanned for Literotica
"Cέrμləan Circles" made it onto Literotica at the second attempt. Their first filter can be a little over-zealous sometimes. I had similar problems with "Don't Fuck The Flowers" and her first appearance in "Succubus Summoning 110". The views/votes will suffer a little (Not that I care that much about them--I enter the cash competitions with the nastiest stories I have lying around because I think it's funny) as most people will have already read the story either here or on the other places I posted it. It's good for Succubus Summoning 201. At least I don't have to worry about whether I'll be able to complete the series on Literotica.
Hmm. Now I need to find another excuse to get people to buy it when it comes out as an ebook...
Hmm. Now I need to find another excuse to get people to buy it when it comes out as an ebook...
Monday, March 26, 2012
Recently, I Have Been Reading... #1
One of the most important pieces of advice they give to writers is to read lots. This was something I used to do. In my teens and early twenties I was a voracious devourer of books. Then I fell out of the habit. Juggling a full-time job with writing and other hobbies doesn’t leave a lot of time left over. Plus, I tend to think time spent reading is time I should be spending writing, especially when self-imposed deadlines start looming. Sometimes it’s good to eat a few books to blast the cobwebs away though. This is what I’ve munched through on my kindle lately:
Christopher Fowler – Hell Train
One of my favourite horror writers from back when I used to read more voraciously. This is an enjoyable romp featuring Brits abroad being ghastly and clueless, and meeting imaginative and bloody ends on a train bound for Hell. Well, sort of. It’s a story within a story of a writer pitching a script to Hammer at a time when the studio was falling out of favour (They’re better now). Part of the fun is trying to guess which famous Hammer actor Fowler has in mind for each character.
Carlton Mellick III – The Morbidly Obese Ninja
I’ve been meaning to check out the Bizarro (sub-?)genre for a while. Mellick is the granddaddy when it comes to fucked-up weirdness. This is a manga-esque tale of a 700-pound corporate ninja. Short, but it zips along and Mellick does a great job of providing a rational underpinning to his very weird world.
J.F. Gonzalez and Mark Williams – Clickers
Entertaining pulp horror. Crab things with scorpion tails and venom that makes limbs burst like overripe bananas emerge from the sea and threaten a New England town. Ultimately, the clickers are fairly dumb critters and it’s easy enough for the (well-armed) townsfolk to keep them under control once the initial surprise has worn off. The things that follow the clickers out of the sea, not so much…
Wrath James White – Like Porno for Psychos
Whoa, this is some good shit. A collection of some really nasty short stories. If you like my work, but want something even darker, this might be up your street. It’s definitely more on the horrifying rather than the arousing side, but I found it encouraging (for me anyway) that’s it’s possible to fling around the cocks and pussies and not be stuck in the porn ghetto. Faves for me were “Feeding Time” and “Nothing Better To Do”.
Brian Keene – Kill Whitey
A dock worker rescues a stripper from a seemingly unkillable Russian mob boss. A fast-paced page-turner that reminded me of the early Koontz thrillers-with-a-supernatural-twist I used to enjoy reading.
Cameron Pierce – Gargoyle Girls of Spider Island
Another Bizarro piece and…um…yeah. A group of teens borrow a yacht, get attacked by pirates and end up on an island where the girls look like centrefolds by day and turn into rapacious, raping, vagina monsters by night. It’s short and starts right in the action, but I’m not sure what to make of it. Part of me thought it was too silly, with characters more suited to a cartoon, and another part of me thought it was fucking hilarious. Probably best to think of it as a horror comedy—like an XXX version of one of Peter Jackson’s early splatter movies—to fully appreciate it. I suspect Bizarro might be beyond the comprehension of my simple little brain.
Curse you, Cameron Pierce! You made me feel old.
This gets a sex scene. It's the woman.
Edward Lee – The House
Lee is the master of hardcore fucked-up gross-out porno-horror. This is two novellas, “The Pig” and “The House”, in one. “The Pig” is the better of the two, a disgusting yet blackly hilarious tale of a luckless filmmaker falling foul of the mob and forced into making “speciality” porno’s. Nearly every taboo is gleefully transgressed in some style and the ending is satisfying.
“The House” isn’t quite as strong. While it also has moments of memorable grossness (Shake-a-Puddin’, blergh), Lee never escapes the straitjacket of Haunted House conventions.
Ah, that was good to blast out some cobwebs. If anyone has any similar suggestions for things to read, feel free to pop them in the comments.
(Oh, and don't worry I'm about to try and outdo Lee, WJW and others in nastiness. I know my niche and what I'm good at :) )
Christopher Fowler – Hell Train
One of my favourite horror writers from back when I used to read more voraciously. This is an enjoyable romp featuring Brits abroad being ghastly and clueless, and meeting imaginative and bloody ends on a train bound for Hell. Well, sort of. It’s a story within a story of a writer pitching a script to Hammer at a time when the studio was falling out of favour (They’re better now). Part of the fun is trying to guess which famous Hammer actor Fowler has in mind for each character.
Carlton Mellick III – The Morbidly Obese Ninja
I’ve been meaning to check out the Bizarro (sub-?)genre for a while. Mellick is the granddaddy when it comes to fucked-up weirdness. This is a manga-esque tale of a 700-pound corporate ninja. Short, but it zips along and Mellick does a great job of providing a rational underpinning to his very weird world.
J.F. Gonzalez and Mark Williams – Clickers
Entertaining pulp horror. Crab things with scorpion tails and venom that makes limbs burst like overripe bananas emerge from the sea and threaten a New England town. Ultimately, the clickers are fairly dumb critters and it’s easy enough for the (well-armed) townsfolk to keep them under control once the initial surprise has worn off. The things that follow the clickers out of the sea, not so much…
Wrath James White – Like Porno for Psychos
Whoa, this is some good shit. A collection of some really nasty short stories. If you like my work, but want something even darker, this might be up your street. It’s definitely more on the horrifying rather than the arousing side, but I found it encouraging (for me anyway) that’s it’s possible to fling around the cocks and pussies and not be stuck in the porn ghetto. Faves for me were “Feeding Time” and “Nothing Better To Do”.
Brian Keene – Kill Whitey
A dock worker rescues a stripper from a seemingly unkillable Russian mob boss. A fast-paced page-turner that reminded me of the early Koontz thrillers-with-a-supernatural-twist I used to enjoy reading.
Cameron Pierce – Gargoyle Girls of Spider Island
Another Bizarro piece and…um…yeah. A group of teens borrow a yacht, get attacked by pirates and end up on an island where the girls look like centrefolds by day and turn into rapacious, raping, vagina monsters by night. It’s short and starts right in the action, but I’m not sure what to make of it. Part of me thought it was too silly, with characters more suited to a cartoon, and another part of me thought it was fucking hilarious. Probably best to think of it as a horror comedy—like an XXX version of one of Peter Jackson’s early splatter movies—to fully appreciate it. I suspect Bizarro might be beyond the comprehension of my simple little brain.
Curse you, Cameron Pierce! You made me feel old.
This gets a sex scene. It's the woman.Edward Lee – The House
Lee is the master of hardcore fucked-up gross-out porno-horror. This is two novellas, “The Pig” and “The House”, in one. “The Pig” is the better of the two, a disgusting yet blackly hilarious tale of a luckless filmmaker falling foul of the mob and forced into making “speciality” porno’s. Nearly every taboo is gleefully transgressed in some style and the ending is satisfying.
“The House” isn’t quite as strong. While it also has moments of memorable grossness (Shake-a-Puddin’, blergh), Lee never escapes the straitjacket of Haunted House conventions.
Ah, that was good to blast out some cobwebs. If anyone has any similar suggestions for things to read, feel free to pop them in the comments.
(Oh, and don't worry I'm about to try and outdo Lee, WJW and others in nastiness. I know my niche and what I'm good at :) )
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Brand new manyeyedhydra story - Cέrμləan Circles
Here's that new story I was talking about. Cέrμləa teaches Phil some summoning techniques. What can go wrong...
Enjoy!
“Summoning circles are all about shape and form,” the girl with spiky blue hair said as she drew in chalk on the bare stone floor.
The girl, who wore a cornflower-blue dress and looked like a rebellious twelve-year-old, was being watched by a young man. He was wearing plain black robes that were threadbare in some places, singed in others. At one time they might have looked sinister and occult, but now they just looked worn. Both were standing in an open space in a large library. Countless shelves overflowing with antiquated tomes ran off into the distance. While it might have looked like a young girl doodling on the floor under the watchful gaze of an elder brother, the truth was a little more complicated.
The young man’s name was Phil Rowling. He was a warlock—okay, student warlock, previously of Wargsnouts College for Warlocks. This library wasn’t located on Earth but in hell, or some plane thereof. The young girl’s name was Cέrμləa and she was neither a girl nor young. Girls didn’t have blue horns curling out of their spiky blue hair, they didn’t have long slender tails terminating in a devil’s point, and they definitely didn’t have large bat wings emerging from their backs. Cέrμləa even had a pair of tiny vestigial wings on her head, located behind her pointed ears.
Cέrμləa was a succubus and while she looked and acted—most of the time—like a young girl, Phil knew she was far older. So old he couldn’t even begin to guess. He saw it sometimes—a flash of ancient knowledge in her ruby-red eyes.
“It’s about bending and distorting the latent fibres of the present plane of reality, and rearranging them into a new alignment that touches on and intersects with an adjacent and contemporaneous plane,” Cέrμləa said.
She continued to draw, with a precision and skill that belied her youthful appearance, a complex series of circles, lines and symbols.
“The methodology of circle summoning is simple and precise. The inner circle opens a connection to the plane or planes of choice. This allows the summoned entity to enter this plane of existence.
“The outer circle forms a barrier to prevent physical matter and other energies from seeping through into this plane. Its purpose is to keep the summoned entity within the circle for long enough to allow the summoner to set out the terms and conditions of the contract.
“As long as the summoner is proficient in transcribing the design, circle summoning is one of the safest techniques of daemon summoning.”
The girl stopped and looked down at her work with a satisfied smile.
“See,” she said. “It’s simple mathematics and topology.”
Phil looked at the baroque, highly complex tangle of lines and curves Cέrμləa had drawn on the floor. If this was simple, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see complex.
Cέrμləa put a finger on her lips. “That one might be a little too complex for your current level.”
Next to her on the stone floor was a child’s bag shaped like a cartoon whale and a mop and bucket. She used the mop to wipe away the chalk design on the floor.
“Now you try,” she said, tossing the piece of chalk to Phil. “We’ll start with something simple. How about the same circle you used to summon Rosa and Verdé?”
Was that a good idea? It hadn’t exactly gone well last time. Rosa and Verdé, two other succubi, were the reason Phil was here. He and a fellow student had summoned them in a misguided attempt to setup a night of sexy fun. Jake, the other student, was dead and Phil was alive but in hell, where things were…complicated.
Cέrμləa was waiting. Phil stood there awkwardly. Surely she didn’t expect him to draw the circle from memory.
“Oh,” Cέrμləa said. “You didn’t have a chance to commit the design to memory.”
Phil shook his head.
Cέrμləa tutted. “A diligent circle summoner should spend weeks drawing the summoning circle over and over until the design is etched into his memory. Don’t tell me you took the book out of the library and just copied the design off the page.”
Phil glanced guiltily at the floor.
Cέrμləa shook her head. “Humans. Always rushing. Hmm… Mr Grinstead.”
She tapped her tail on the floor. A complex circle appeared on the stone floor as if drawn in ghostly white light. In the centre of the circle the floor vanished to be replaced by a pool of abyssal black shadow. A strange creature rose up out of the darkness. It looked like a blue-skinned ape with a toothy crocodile’s snout for a head. It was no more than a foot in height. Two delicate pairs of wings, flimsy like a fly’s, fluttered behind its back. They didn’t look sturdy enough to support the imp’s squat form, but that didn’t stop it rising up until it was hovering level with Cέrμləa’s head.
“What was the name of the book?” Cέrμləa asked Phil.
“The Daemonica Malefique,” Phil replied.
“Go and fetch the Daemonica Malefique from the library at Wargsnouts and bring it back here,” Cέrμləa said to the hovering imp.
The familiar gave no outward sign of acknowledgement. It turned and—wings whirring behind it—flew in a slow straight line. A portal opened up in the air before it like a circular window. The imp buzzed through and was gone from the library, the portal closing up behind it.
“It won’t be able to get it,” Phil said. “The Wargsnouts library is protected by all kinds of—”
The strange circular porthole opened up again and the imp came back through. It was clutching a heavy tome in its claws that was almost as big as it was. Phil recognised the book as the Daemonica Malefique.
“Very good, Mr Grinstead.”
Cέrμləa took the big book from the imp and patted it on the head. There was just the barest flicker of a smile at the corner of the squat thing’s toothy mouth, and then it was gone—sinking back into the pool of shadow on the floor.
Cέrμləa placed the book on the floor and flicked through the yellowing pages until she found the one she was after.
“There you go,” she said.
Phil made no move to start.
“Um. Won’t Verdé be angry if I yank her here from whatever she’s doing?”
The smooth flesh of Cέrμləa’s forehead creased up. She sighed as she planted her palm on her forehead.
“That’s not how it works,” she said. “It can, but the summoner needs to know the exact design for the individual daemon and most summoners don’t bother because the ritual won’t work if the target daemon is not available.
“The circle is used to open a connection. It can be to a specific region of hell and/or a specific type/race of daemon. The circle you used is to summon a standard succubus-type daemon from anywhere within the Lust Conjugation. Very general. Rosa and Verdé happened to be the first to answer the summoning.”
Oh, Phil thought. It kind of made sense. He studied the design on the open page of the book and began to copy it, in chalk, on the stone floor of the library.
“Don’t worry about imperfections in the floor,” Cέrμləa said as Phil struggled to continue a line over a crack between two stone slabs. “It’s the mental image of the circle that’s important. The chalk is only an aid to focus the mind. It’s the projection of the circle from the summoner’s mind that actually reshapes and bends reality.”
Phil was surprised to find Cέrμləa’s words made sense. As he drew the circle he realised he was no longer seeing the chalk lines but the mental image of the design he’d concentrated on and created in his mind. He finished and stepped back. He was sure he’d got it right this time. The circle felt clearer. Crisper.
Cέrμləa looked at his effort. “Oh dear. I don’t think that could contain even a feculoid imp.”
Phil deflated. He looked at the open page and then back at the circle. They looked the same. He was sure they were the same. Where had he gone wrong?
Cέrμləa looked at the circle and then the open page. She frowned. She crouched down and examined the book more closely. She blushed and put a hand over her mouth.
“Book’s wrong,” she turned to Phil and said with a smile. “Parts of the outer circle design have been omitted.”
Wrong? Phil thought. Great, so he’d never had a chance of getting the ritual right in the first place.
“I’ll fix it.”
Cέrμləa went into her bag and pulled out a black pen. She lay down on the floor next to the book and started to draw directly onto the yellowed page. It looked wrong to Phil, as if a child was being allowed to doodle in a priceless first edition of Dickens. When she finished Phil was surprised to see her modifications matched the style perfectly. He couldn’t see where the original lines ended and Cέrμləa’s alterations began.
“Try that,” she said.
Phil shrugged. He mopped away the chalk of the old circle and started afresh.
“How about now?” he asked after finishing.
Cέrμləa tilted her head from one side to the other as she examined his work. She looked at Phil, her red eyes shining. “Why don’t we try it out and see?”
Phil would have preferred a simple, ‘Yes, that looks fine.’
Cέrμləa put a finger to her lips and was thoughtful.
“Hmm. The problem with most succubi is they’re cunning, duplicitous creatures. Even if there were flaws in the circle or ritual a succubus might pretend to follow the summoner’s wishes if it amused them or suited their purposes. We need a daemon that’s more straightforward. Then we’ll know right away if the summoning was performed correctly.”
Preferably something that couldn’t do a lot of damage if the circle was wrong, Phil thought.
“A violence daemon would do the trick. Maybe a taurenox. They’re big, strong, and as dumb as a rock.”
Big, strong and violence daemon were words that didn’t appeal to Phil.
Cέrμləa tsked.
“No. No good at all. Then there wouldn’t be any sex. We won’t be able to hold the reader’s interest if there isn’t any sex.”
“Reader?”
“Oh, nothing,” Cέrμləa said.
Deep in thought, she flicked through the pages until she found something she liked and her face lit up.
“A ctenophox,” she said. “Yes, that would be perfect. Schemes and subtlety don’t interest them at all.”
She picked up the book and passed it to Phil.
“It’s a standard summoning incantation, similar to the one you used to summon Verdé.”
Phil looked at the page as Cέrμləa took the chalk and made some alterations to the inner circle pattern. The symbols and words were familiar to him as the same ones he’d been forced to learn by rote back at Wargsnouts College.
“What’s a ctenophox?” he asked.
“A primal spirit of lust from the Benth’Id depths,” Cέrμləa replied. “They’re quite simple, although they do have a reasonable amount of raw power.”
“Are they dangerous?”
“Only if you make a mistake with the summoning.”
But weren’t they summoning the ctenophox to test if he had made a mistake with the summoning, Phil thought. Again he wondered why they couldn’t just summon an imp or something equally puny.
“Now for a little something to attract a ctenophox to the circle,” Cέrμləa said.
She went back to her childish, whale-shaped bag and took out a small glass beaker covered in cellophane. A thick, creamy-white liquid formed a small layer at the bottom of the glass. Phil didn’t need to ask to know the liquid was semen, probably his. Cέrμləa took off the cellophane covering and left the beaker in the centre of the chalk circle.
“What about the other ingredients?” Phil asked.
“What other ingredients?” Cέrμləa asked.
“You know, mice, other things.”
Cέrμləa looked at Phil. “What would a lust daemon want with a mouse?”
“Um, the blood…” Phil suggested without feeling entirely confident.
Cέrμləa shook her head. “You humans have some very odd notions about magic,” she said. “Now recite the summoning incantation,” she ordered.
Phil read the words out loud from the page. As always, his tongue struggled to wrap around the alien syllables at first, but then there was always a point when the trickle of words tipped over into a flood. A kind of eldritch gravity took over, as if the incantation had reached a critical mass and would not be stopped. Instead of him saying the words, it was like the words took over, controlling his tongue to shape them as they tumbled forth from his mouth in a stream that only ended when his finger brushed up against the last rune.
“Good. Good,” Cέrμləa said as the echo of alien utterances faded away. “Most humans make the mistake of trying to force the words to match the sounds they’re familiar with. It’s better to let the words take their own form.”
A pinkish, bluish cloud started to condense around the beaker in the centre of the circle. It expanded and puffed outwards, forming a dense fog constrained within the lines of chalk.
“Ah, here she comes,” Cέrμləa said.
A female form rose up out of the swirling mist. She was blue-skinned, naked and moved with a sinuous grace that was both alien and entrancing. She stared at him with golden-yellow eyes and swayed like a belly dancer, or snake. Phil found it difficult to look away. He thought he could hear music playing far away—a strange ululation that reminded him of psychedelic science fiction TV shows from the sixties.
He couldn’t see the lower part of her body. The thick billowing clouds of mist formed an impenetrable veil that obscured everything beneath the little dimple of her navel. Waves of mist rolled up against the outer chalk circle and Phil heard crackling sounds, like sparks of electricity earthing in a puddle.
“Mystic presence contained,” Cέrμləa said. “Visual entrancements, eighty percent negated. Aural entrancements, ninety percent negated. Olfactory entrancements, ninety-five percent negated.”
The smoke teased Phil like a veil. He leaned forward as he tried to peer into the clouds and see her lower half. Nothing. He couldn’t see anything of her legs, ass or sex. He jumped back as an electric-blue tentacle emerged from the thick mist and slithered across the stone floor. It reached the outer chalk circle and stopped as if it had come up against an invisible barrier. Another whip-thin appendage emerged and tested the other side of the circle.
What was hidden within the clouds?
“Physical presence contained,” Cέrμləa said. “Now quick, she’s strong, recite the conditions and terms of your contract before she breaks out. Remember, visualise exactly what you desire as you recite the words.”
Phil knew exactly what he desired. He wanted the daemon to not kill him, suck out his soul, scramble his brains, or do anything else bad to him. He also wanted her to leave when dismissed and not hunt him down afterwards once she was no longer bound by the terms of the contract. Oh, and not to kidnap and take him with her when she returned to her home plane. That was worth adding considering what had happened the last time he’d attempted to summon a daemon. He recited his conditions in the formal language of daemon contracting. He’d learnt some of it at Wargsnouts and Cέrμləa had helped him with the rest during their study sessions.
More blue feelers slithered around the white lines of the outer circle, looking for any weakness. As the last syllable of Phil’s binding incantation faded away the tendrils retreated back into the opaque clouds. The ctenophox slowed down her swaying motions and looked at Phil with a smile on her sensual indigo lips.
“What do you desire of me?” she asked.
Her voice had a strange echo, almost as if Phil was hearing them both normally and directly in his thoughts at the same time.
“Did it work?” he turned and asked Cέrμləa.
“Let’s find out,” she said.
Mischief glinted in her red eyes. She kicked the mop bucket over and a tide of soapy water rushed across the stone floor, obliterating the front of the chalk circle. The ctenophox’s smile widened.
Oh sh—
It was like a wall had been blown away. The sounds came first—a haunting, eerie melody that spiralled through his eardrums and resonated pleasantly within the folds of his brain. The ululating music surrounded him. He felt it vibrating in his teeth and then down through his bones. The hairs rose up on the back of his neck. He felt strange. Airy. Antsy.
The bluish-pink mist rolled out across the floor. It pushed out before it a strange aroma that tickled Phil’s nostrils. The exotic perfume added to his growing sense of dislocation.
Smiling seductively, the ctenophox put her hands together above her head and started to sway like a sensual belly dancer. Phil couldn’t look away. His field of vision was constrained to a narrow rectangle that started with the ctenophox’s radiant yellow eyes and went down to the gleaming blue curves of her voluptuous breasts.
A slender blue tentacle rolled out of the billowing fog and coiled around Phil’s right ankle, jolting him from his trance. Alarmed, he looked over to Cέrμləa for guidance as another feeler slithered across the floor and up his other leg.
Cέrμləa put a hand to her mouth. “Oops. Adult stuff. I’m not allowed to see this. See you later.” She gave him a friendly wave before skipping off in the direction of the large bookcases at the back of the room.
Wait, Phil thought. What do I do n—
The tentacles around his ankles tugged and Phil fell backwards. He landed on his back and the wind was knocked out of his body. Dazed and still partially entranced by both the beguiling melodies and the ctenophox’s hypnotic swaying, Phil didn’t put up much resistance as the slender cords around his ankles pulled taut and started to drag him into the circle and thick clouds roiling within.
The fog was thick enough to have physical substance. He felt it against his feet and ankles, but rather than feeling cold and clammy it felt like warm honey condensing on his exposed skin. He felt like he was stepping into a pleasant scented bath. Within the mist he saw the hazy shapes of thicker appendages. Blind mouths opened in the ends and puffed out more scented blue and pink clouds. The mist billowed over Phil’s legs in a wave of miniature kisses.
The ctenophox was right above him. More and more feelers unfurled out of the churning fog. They slithered beneath his robe and peeled it off him to leave him completely naked and exposed. Other tentacles coiled around his arms and lifted him up off the floor. Phil drowned in the golden pools of her eyes and offered no resistance.
“This floor is too hard,” the ctenophox said, her voice again echoing directly within the folds of Phil’s mind. “I’ll make it more comfortable.”
Two blue appendages, as thick across as Phil’s thighs, nudged out of the base of the cloud. They opened out like rubber tubes and started spewing more thick mist across the floor. Only this wasn’t mist, not like the moist smoke swirling around Phil’s lower legs. It was thicker, solid, more like some kind of translucent jelly. The orifices swayed back and forth, squirting out a thick cushion beneath Phil. It even felt soft like a cushion. The tendrils holding him relaxed and Phil sank back not onto the stone floor but instead into a mass of warm jelly that felt like a moist rubbery beanbag.
Puffed out by indistinct maws, the billowing clouds continued to expand and Phil was enveloped in a comfortable, relaxed weakness. Slender tentacles, strong like cord, wound around his wrists and ankles and pulled them apart until Phil was spread-eagled before the ctenophox. Her upper body hovered out of the mist before him, full breasts hanging like swollen, ripe, exotic fruit. Phil was so deep into the opaque mist he could no longer see anything past his abdomen. He shivered as an unseen something brushed up against his exposed penis.
No, this had gone too far, Phil thought, his mind stumbling free of the fog encroaching on his thoughts. Oh fuck. She’d dragged him right into the circle and was almost on top of him. There must have been a mistake. He had to use the emergency dismissal before the daemoness did…whatever she intended to do to him.
“Ex—”
That was as far as Phil got before a thick blue tentacle emerged from the cloud and the fleshy tip covered Phil’s mouth and nose like a mask. The ctenophox shook her head and tutted. He saw her dark blue hair was really a mass of long squirming tendrils.
“You can’t send me away before experiencing the pleasures of my body.”
The pleasures offered by most lust daemons invariably ended up being fatal. Phil struggled against the tentacles binding his limbs. He tried thrashing his head in an attempt to dislodge the appendage attached to his face.
The appendage was hollow. Phil’s eyes widened as the tentacle swelled up. He couldn’t shake it off before a volume of scented gas was forced up his nostrils and into his lungs. Phil’s struggles grew more laboured as the drugged air permeated through his body and dragged his limbs down with languid weight. The fog was within him now. It twined through his mind and obscured his thoughts.
“Breathe and be relaxed,” the girl with blue skin and brilliant shining eyes ordered. Phil heard her voice both through his ears and directly in his mind.
She pumped more blissful relaxant into his body and Phil’s breathing slowed down and fell into the same rhythm as the pulses travelling up the tube. The tenseness left his body. He sank into the gel cushions beneath him with the ctenophox on top of him.
“All those instructions on what I mustn’t do, and yet you never specified exactly what you wished of me,” the ctenophox said. “Shall I assume you’d like me to take the initiative?”
Tentacles dripping with lubricant slithered over Phil’s body in lewd caresses. The ctenophox positioned herself above him. Her full lips formed an o as she let out a breathy sigh. She pushed the shiny round swells of her tits together.
“Mmm, I like taking the initiative,” the ctenophox said. “I like having the freedom to be…creative.”
Her smothering appendage continued to pump more drugged air into Phil’s lungs. The swirling clouds thickened around him. Warm droplets condensed against his exposed skin. He hoped he hadn’t left anything out of the binding clauses. If he had, well there wasn’t much he could do about it now.
The ctenophox sighed like a porn star in heat. Phil couldn’t see what was happening within the opaque clouds. Beneath the veil of mist countless tentacles tickled and caressed him. Soft suction cups toyed with his nipples. They felt like warm lips. Mysterious appendages with a variety of tips—brushes, suckers, sponges—teased his body with exotic sensation. Phil trembled as a soft rubber appendage wound around his penis and gently tugged him to full hardness.
“Don’t think about what I’m doing,” the ctenophox said, “just relax and enjoy the sensation.”
Her upper body settled in his lap. Phil felt some kind of orifice—squishy, gelatinous—wriggle against the fleshy helmet of his erection. She lowered her body and Phil felt his dick slide up into a tight passage with smooth, elastic walls.
“Ooh yes. In you go.”
The girl pouted glistening lips. Her face reminded Phil of the slutty girls staring out of the covers of top shelf magazines. Faces that returned later to visit him in sticky, sweaty dreams. Those girls didn’t have blue skin, but it didn’t matter; the ctenophox was sexy regardless, a real life exotic sci-fi babe.
Phil’s manhood was inside something. At first it didn’t feel too pleasant—clammy, slimy, more like some kind of squishy jelly. Then it started to warm up and press tightly all around his cock until it formed a snug sheath. The walls were formed of thick pads of soft jelly. They moulded perfectly around his member and started to excite him with little throbbing squeezes. Phil’s cock twitched with the same rhythm as blood poured into his growing erection. Now it was pleasant. Really pleasant.
The ctenophox paused and placed a finger thoughtfully on her lips. Within the clouds, the unseen orifice continued to tease Phil’s hard-on with rippling suction.
“As much as I find humans enjoyable, their final release is never as substantial as I’d like. I have some techniques that will help you with this. You don’t object if I use them, do you?”
Phil didn’t, or rather he couldn’t. His mouth was still covered by her gas-pumping appendage. The ctenophox’s lips turned up in a smile.
“No? Oh good,” she said. “Don’t worry. You’ll find this to be very pleasant.”
A slender feeler, slick with lubricant, wormed up into Phil’s ass. It tickled around until it found his prostate and then—
Ooooh!
Phil wasn’t sure what she was doing, couldn’t tell if she was sucking on the gland or squirting something into it, only that an incredibly pleasant sensation was spreading through his groin. She shifted position and something moist and soft enfolded his testicles and began to suck on them.
She removed the mask-like appendage from Phil’s face. She didn’t need it any more. He was under her control now. The air around Phil was already so saturated with her perfumed clouds every breath he took was filled with her fog. Thicker tentacles with rows of what felt like moist lips on the underside wrapped around Phil. He shivered as they left lines of wet kisses along his exposed flesh.
Sighing with pleasure, the ctenophox rocked up and down on him. Gelatinous suction gripped Phil’s twitching erection. Her slender feeler continued to tickle away in his ass. His loins felt weird—hot, fervid. His testicles felt bloated and were growing more and more swollen, encouraged to expand by the soft suckers wrapped around them. Hidden within the mist, the ctenophox was doing something to his genitals, something that made him feel like his semen was building up as though he’d been denied release for months.
“Mmm, I like my men to fill me with a nice big load,” the ctenophox said.
She closed her eyes and squeezed her big blue breasts together. The thick tentacles lined with hot kissing lips squeezed Phil’s body. Her weight settled deeper into his lap, pushing his erection up deeper inside her until the tip pressed up against a soft gelatinous cushion that enfolded his glans and sucked on him. Waves of gentle squeezes ran up his shaft. They spread outwards throughout his body until it felt like everything within him was being focused down to his groin and then up his shaft and into the head of his throbbing cock.
“Oh yes, you’re going to give me a big load.”
She gave him another squeeze, more powerful this time. Soft gelatinous flesh pressed all around and smothered his over-sensitised manhood. Too much. Phil groaned as a wave washed through him, stimulating the muscles of his legs and buttocks, forcing his hips upwards and driving his cock deeper into something soft and smothering that engulfed him and began to suck. His swollen balls contracted and it felt like a dam had been breached as his semen surged up his shaft and erupted outwards in glorious release. He twitched and trembled helplessly beneath the ctenophox as she encouraged more and more semen from him with her pulsating jelly sheath. More, more, a constant eruption into her quivering centre as thick, billowing clouds rolled over him and the ctenophox moaned and writhed on top of him.
Not quite constant, thankfully. Just as Phil was starting to worry he was going to keep ejaculating until he deflated to an empty husk, the ctenophox’s jelly sheath opened up and released him. Completely spent, Phil sank, exhausted, into the soft gel underneath him.
The ctenophox sighed. “So nice. I wish I could suck it all out of you, but then you’d be dried up and dead and I can’t do that as it would violate the terms of our agreement.”
She lay down until her curvaceous upper body rested against Phil’s. Her moist lips pressed against his in a gentle kiss. A probing feeler found Phil’s left ear and slithered inside. A spark flashed inside his brain. He saw the circle he’d chalked on the ground superimposed on his vision as though it had been etched into his eyeballs in sparkling sapphire. As he watched, the design changed. Complex lines and spirals were added to the central circle as if drawn by an invisible hand.
“My name is Ctenylla,” the ctenophox whispered in his ear. “You can summon me directly next time.”
Phil blinked and the sapphire lines faded from his vision. But not from his thoughts. The design was still there, marked indelibly into his memory and available for retrieval any time he desired.
Ctenylla got up off him. She put a hand to her mouth and blew him a kiss. The kiss became a dense pink and blue cloud that expanded to fill Phil’s vision and obscure Ctenylla’s body. When the cloud dissipated Ctenylla was gone, returned to whichever plane she’d been summoned from. The jelly cushions underneath him liquefied and evaporated until Phil was lying naked on the stone floor in the centre of a smudged chalk circle.
He lay there for a while, waiting for his breath to come back. He was still alive? He supposed that meant, technically, the summoning had been a success.
Humming a tune to herself, Cέrμləa skipped between the shelves. She ran her finger along the spines of various ancient books, looking for one in particular. Smiling, she identified the tome and pulled it out from the shelf. It was bound in leather or some other less wholesome material. The title, Daemonica Malefique, looked like it had been scorched into the cover with a brand. It looked like an exact duplicate of the book lying open next to Phil’s prone body.
Cέrμləa tapped her tail on the floor and Mr Grinstead rose up out of the centre of a glowing arcane circle.
“You can put this one back now.” She passed the book to the imp. Bowing, it grasped the book to its chest and sank back down into the floor.
Cέrμləa looked over to where Phil was lying on the stone floor. The rise and fall of his chest indicated he was still alive. She smiled and fires sparkled in the depths of her ruby-red eyes.
Enjoy!
Cέrμləan Circles
“Summoning circles are all about shape and form,” the girl with spiky blue hair said as she drew in chalk on the bare stone floor.
The girl, who wore a cornflower-blue dress and looked like a rebellious twelve-year-old, was being watched by a young man. He was wearing plain black robes that were threadbare in some places, singed in others. At one time they might have looked sinister and occult, but now they just looked worn. Both were standing in an open space in a large library. Countless shelves overflowing with antiquated tomes ran off into the distance. While it might have looked like a young girl doodling on the floor under the watchful gaze of an elder brother, the truth was a little more complicated.
The young man’s name was Phil Rowling. He was a warlock—okay, student warlock, previously of Wargsnouts College for Warlocks. This library wasn’t located on Earth but in hell, or some plane thereof. The young girl’s name was Cέrμləa and she was neither a girl nor young. Girls didn’t have blue horns curling out of their spiky blue hair, they didn’t have long slender tails terminating in a devil’s point, and they definitely didn’t have large bat wings emerging from their backs. Cέrμləa even had a pair of tiny vestigial wings on her head, located behind her pointed ears.
Cέrμləa was a succubus and while she looked and acted—most of the time—like a young girl, Phil knew she was far older. So old he couldn’t even begin to guess. He saw it sometimes—a flash of ancient knowledge in her ruby-red eyes.
“It’s about bending and distorting the latent fibres of the present plane of reality, and rearranging them into a new alignment that touches on and intersects with an adjacent and contemporaneous plane,” Cέrμləa said.
She continued to draw, with a precision and skill that belied her youthful appearance, a complex series of circles, lines and symbols.
“The methodology of circle summoning is simple and precise. The inner circle opens a connection to the plane or planes of choice. This allows the summoned entity to enter this plane of existence.
“The outer circle forms a barrier to prevent physical matter and other energies from seeping through into this plane. Its purpose is to keep the summoned entity within the circle for long enough to allow the summoner to set out the terms and conditions of the contract.
“As long as the summoner is proficient in transcribing the design, circle summoning is one of the safest techniques of daemon summoning.”
The girl stopped and looked down at her work with a satisfied smile.
“See,” she said. “It’s simple mathematics and topology.”
Phil looked at the baroque, highly complex tangle of lines and curves Cέrμləa had drawn on the floor. If this was simple, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see complex.
Cέrμləa put a finger on her lips. “That one might be a little too complex for your current level.”
Next to her on the stone floor was a child’s bag shaped like a cartoon whale and a mop and bucket. She used the mop to wipe away the chalk design on the floor.
“Now you try,” she said, tossing the piece of chalk to Phil. “We’ll start with something simple. How about the same circle you used to summon Rosa and Verdé?”
Was that a good idea? It hadn’t exactly gone well last time. Rosa and Verdé, two other succubi, were the reason Phil was here. He and a fellow student had summoned them in a misguided attempt to setup a night of sexy fun. Jake, the other student, was dead and Phil was alive but in hell, where things were…complicated.
Cέrμləa was waiting. Phil stood there awkwardly. Surely she didn’t expect him to draw the circle from memory.
“Oh,” Cέrμləa said. “You didn’t have a chance to commit the design to memory.”
Phil shook his head.
Cέrμləa tutted. “A diligent circle summoner should spend weeks drawing the summoning circle over and over until the design is etched into his memory. Don’t tell me you took the book out of the library and just copied the design off the page.”
Phil glanced guiltily at the floor.
Cέrμləa shook her head. “Humans. Always rushing. Hmm… Mr Grinstead.”
She tapped her tail on the floor. A complex circle appeared on the stone floor as if drawn in ghostly white light. In the centre of the circle the floor vanished to be replaced by a pool of abyssal black shadow. A strange creature rose up out of the darkness. It looked like a blue-skinned ape with a toothy crocodile’s snout for a head. It was no more than a foot in height. Two delicate pairs of wings, flimsy like a fly’s, fluttered behind its back. They didn’t look sturdy enough to support the imp’s squat form, but that didn’t stop it rising up until it was hovering level with Cέrμləa’s head.
“What was the name of the book?” Cέrμləa asked Phil.
“The Daemonica Malefique,” Phil replied.
“Go and fetch the Daemonica Malefique from the library at Wargsnouts and bring it back here,” Cέrμləa said to the hovering imp.
The familiar gave no outward sign of acknowledgement. It turned and—wings whirring behind it—flew in a slow straight line. A portal opened up in the air before it like a circular window. The imp buzzed through and was gone from the library, the portal closing up behind it.
“It won’t be able to get it,” Phil said. “The Wargsnouts library is protected by all kinds of—”
The strange circular porthole opened up again and the imp came back through. It was clutching a heavy tome in its claws that was almost as big as it was. Phil recognised the book as the Daemonica Malefique.
“Very good, Mr Grinstead.”
Cέrμləa took the big book from the imp and patted it on the head. There was just the barest flicker of a smile at the corner of the squat thing’s toothy mouth, and then it was gone—sinking back into the pool of shadow on the floor.
Cέrμləa placed the book on the floor and flicked through the yellowing pages until she found the one she was after.
“There you go,” she said.
Phil made no move to start.
“Um. Won’t Verdé be angry if I yank her here from whatever she’s doing?”
The smooth flesh of Cέrμləa’s forehead creased up. She sighed as she planted her palm on her forehead.
“That’s not how it works,” she said. “It can, but the summoner needs to know the exact design for the individual daemon and most summoners don’t bother because the ritual won’t work if the target daemon is not available.
“The circle is used to open a connection. It can be to a specific region of hell and/or a specific type/race of daemon. The circle you used is to summon a standard succubus-type daemon from anywhere within the Lust Conjugation. Very general. Rosa and Verdé happened to be the first to answer the summoning.”
Oh, Phil thought. It kind of made sense. He studied the design on the open page of the book and began to copy it, in chalk, on the stone floor of the library.
“Don’t worry about imperfections in the floor,” Cέrμləa said as Phil struggled to continue a line over a crack between two stone slabs. “It’s the mental image of the circle that’s important. The chalk is only an aid to focus the mind. It’s the projection of the circle from the summoner’s mind that actually reshapes and bends reality.”
Phil was surprised to find Cέrμləa’s words made sense. As he drew the circle he realised he was no longer seeing the chalk lines but the mental image of the design he’d concentrated on and created in his mind. He finished and stepped back. He was sure he’d got it right this time. The circle felt clearer. Crisper.
Cέrμləa looked at his effort. “Oh dear. I don’t think that could contain even a feculoid imp.”
Phil deflated. He looked at the open page and then back at the circle. They looked the same. He was sure they were the same. Where had he gone wrong?
Cέrμləa looked at the circle and then the open page. She frowned. She crouched down and examined the book more closely. She blushed and put a hand over her mouth.
“Book’s wrong,” she turned to Phil and said with a smile. “Parts of the outer circle design have been omitted.”
Wrong? Phil thought. Great, so he’d never had a chance of getting the ritual right in the first place.
“I’ll fix it.”
Cέrμləa went into her bag and pulled out a black pen. She lay down on the floor next to the book and started to draw directly onto the yellowed page. It looked wrong to Phil, as if a child was being allowed to doodle in a priceless first edition of Dickens. When she finished Phil was surprised to see her modifications matched the style perfectly. He couldn’t see where the original lines ended and Cέrμləa’s alterations began.
“Try that,” she said.
Phil shrugged. He mopped away the chalk of the old circle and started afresh.
“How about now?” he asked after finishing.
Cέrμləa tilted her head from one side to the other as she examined his work. She looked at Phil, her red eyes shining. “Why don’t we try it out and see?”
Phil would have preferred a simple, ‘Yes, that looks fine.’
Cέrμləa put a finger to her lips and was thoughtful.
“Hmm. The problem with most succubi is they’re cunning, duplicitous creatures. Even if there were flaws in the circle or ritual a succubus might pretend to follow the summoner’s wishes if it amused them or suited their purposes. We need a daemon that’s more straightforward. Then we’ll know right away if the summoning was performed correctly.”
Preferably something that couldn’t do a lot of damage if the circle was wrong, Phil thought.
“A violence daemon would do the trick. Maybe a taurenox. They’re big, strong, and as dumb as a rock.”
Big, strong and violence daemon were words that didn’t appeal to Phil.
Cέrμləa tsked.
“No. No good at all. Then there wouldn’t be any sex. We won’t be able to hold the reader’s interest if there isn’t any sex.”
“Reader?”
“Oh, nothing,” Cέrμləa said.
Deep in thought, she flicked through the pages until she found something she liked and her face lit up.
“A ctenophox,” she said. “Yes, that would be perfect. Schemes and subtlety don’t interest them at all.”
She picked up the book and passed it to Phil.
“It’s a standard summoning incantation, similar to the one you used to summon Verdé.”
Phil looked at the page as Cέrμləa took the chalk and made some alterations to the inner circle pattern. The symbols and words were familiar to him as the same ones he’d been forced to learn by rote back at Wargsnouts College.
“What’s a ctenophox?” he asked.
“A primal spirit of lust from the Benth’Id depths,” Cέrμləa replied. “They’re quite simple, although they do have a reasonable amount of raw power.”
“Are they dangerous?”
“Only if you make a mistake with the summoning.”
But weren’t they summoning the ctenophox to test if he had made a mistake with the summoning, Phil thought. Again he wondered why they couldn’t just summon an imp or something equally puny.
“Now for a little something to attract a ctenophox to the circle,” Cέrμləa said.
She went back to her childish, whale-shaped bag and took out a small glass beaker covered in cellophane. A thick, creamy-white liquid formed a small layer at the bottom of the glass. Phil didn’t need to ask to know the liquid was semen, probably his. Cέrμləa took off the cellophane covering and left the beaker in the centre of the chalk circle.
“What about the other ingredients?” Phil asked.
“What other ingredients?” Cέrμləa asked.
“You know, mice, other things.”
Cέrμləa looked at Phil. “What would a lust daemon want with a mouse?”
“Um, the blood…” Phil suggested without feeling entirely confident.
Cέrμləa shook her head. “You humans have some very odd notions about magic,” she said. “Now recite the summoning incantation,” she ordered.
Phil read the words out loud from the page. As always, his tongue struggled to wrap around the alien syllables at first, but then there was always a point when the trickle of words tipped over into a flood. A kind of eldritch gravity took over, as if the incantation had reached a critical mass and would not be stopped. Instead of him saying the words, it was like the words took over, controlling his tongue to shape them as they tumbled forth from his mouth in a stream that only ended when his finger brushed up against the last rune.
“Good. Good,” Cέrμləa said as the echo of alien utterances faded away. “Most humans make the mistake of trying to force the words to match the sounds they’re familiar with. It’s better to let the words take their own form.”
A pinkish, bluish cloud started to condense around the beaker in the centre of the circle. It expanded and puffed outwards, forming a dense fog constrained within the lines of chalk.
“Ah, here she comes,” Cέrμləa said.
A female form rose up out of the swirling mist. She was blue-skinned, naked and moved with a sinuous grace that was both alien and entrancing. She stared at him with golden-yellow eyes and swayed like a belly dancer, or snake. Phil found it difficult to look away. He thought he could hear music playing far away—a strange ululation that reminded him of psychedelic science fiction TV shows from the sixties.
He couldn’t see the lower part of her body. The thick billowing clouds of mist formed an impenetrable veil that obscured everything beneath the little dimple of her navel. Waves of mist rolled up against the outer chalk circle and Phil heard crackling sounds, like sparks of electricity earthing in a puddle.
“Mystic presence contained,” Cέrμləa said. “Visual entrancements, eighty percent negated. Aural entrancements, ninety percent negated. Olfactory entrancements, ninety-five percent negated.”
The smoke teased Phil like a veil. He leaned forward as he tried to peer into the clouds and see her lower half. Nothing. He couldn’t see anything of her legs, ass or sex. He jumped back as an electric-blue tentacle emerged from the thick mist and slithered across the stone floor. It reached the outer chalk circle and stopped as if it had come up against an invisible barrier. Another whip-thin appendage emerged and tested the other side of the circle.
What was hidden within the clouds?
“Physical presence contained,” Cέrμləa said. “Now quick, she’s strong, recite the conditions and terms of your contract before she breaks out. Remember, visualise exactly what you desire as you recite the words.”
Phil knew exactly what he desired. He wanted the daemon to not kill him, suck out his soul, scramble his brains, or do anything else bad to him. He also wanted her to leave when dismissed and not hunt him down afterwards once she was no longer bound by the terms of the contract. Oh, and not to kidnap and take him with her when she returned to her home plane. That was worth adding considering what had happened the last time he’d attempted to summon a daemon. He recited his conditions in the formal language of daemon contracting. He’d learnt some of it at Wargsnouts and Cέrμləa had helped him with the rest during their study sessions.
More blue feelers slithered around the white lines of the outer circle, looking for any weakness. As the last syllable of Phil’s binding incantation faded away the tendrils retreated back into the opaque clouds. The ctenophox slowed down her swaying motions and looked at Phil with a smile on her sensual indigo lips.
“What do you desire of me?” she asked.
Her voice had a strange echo, almost as if Phil was hearing them both normally and directly in his thoughts at the same time.
“Did it work?” he turned and asked Cέrμləa.
“Let’s find out,” she said.
Mischief glinted in her red eyes. She kicked the mop bucket over and a tide of soapy water rushed across the stone floor, obliterating the front of the chalk circle. The ctenophox’s smile widened.
Oh sh—
It was like a wall had been blown away. The sounds came first—a haunting, eerie melody that spiralled through his eardrums and resonated pleasantly within the folds of his brain. The ululating music surrounded him. He felt it vibrating in his teeth and then down through his bones. The hairs rose up on the back of his neck. He felt strange. Airy. Antsy.
The bluish-pink mist rolled out across the floor. It pushed out before it a strange aroma that tickled Phil’s nostrils. The exotic perfume added to his growing sense of dislocation.
Smiling seductively, the ctenophox put her hands together above her head and started to sway like a sensual belly dancer. Phil couldn’t look away. His field of vision was constrained to a narrow rectangle that started with the ctenophox’s radiant yellow eyes and went down to the gleaming blue curves of her voluptuous breasts.
A slender blue tentacle rolled out of the billowing fog and coiled around Phil’s right ankle, jolting him from his trance. Alarmed, he looked over to Cέrμləa for guidance as another feeler slithered across the floor and up his other leg.
Cέrμləa put a hand to her mouth. “Oops. Adult stuff. I’m not allowed to see this. See you later.” She gave him a friendly wave before skipping off in the direction of the large bookcases at the back of the room.
Wait, Phil thought. What do I do n—
The tentacles around his ankles tugged and Phil fell backwards. He landed on his back and the wind was knocked out of his body. Dazed and still partially entranced by both the beguiling melodies and the ctenophox’s hypnotic swaying, Phil didn’t put up much resistance as the slender cords around his ankles pulled taut and started to drag him into the circle and thick clouds roiling within.
The fog was thick enough to have physical substance. He felt it against his feet and ankles, but rather than feeling cold and clammy it felt like warm honey condensing on his exposed skin. He felt like he was stepping into a pleasant scented bath. Within the mist he saw the hazy shapes of thicker appendages. Blind mouths opened in the ends and puffed out more scented blue and pink clouds. The mist billowed over Phil’s legs in a wave of miniature kisses.
The ctenophox was right above him. More and more feelers unfurled out of the churning fog. They slithered beneath his robe and peeled it off him to leave him completely naked and exposed. Other tentacles coiled around his arms and lifted him up off the floor. Phil drowned in the golden pools of her eyes and offered no resistance.
“This floor is too hard,” the ctenophox said, her voice again echoing directly within the folds of Phil’s mind. “I’ll make it more comfortable.”
Two blue appendages, as thick across as Phil’s thighs, nudged out of the base of the cloud. They opened out like rubber tubes and started spewing more thick mist across the floor. Only this wasn’t mist, not like the moist smoke swirling around Phil’s lower legs. It was thicker, solid, more like some kind of translucent jelly. The orifices swayed back and forth, squirting out a thick cushion beneath Phil. It even felt soft like a cushion. The tendrils holding him relaxed and Phil sank back not onto the stone floor but instead into a mass of warm jelly that felt like a moist rubbery beanbag.
Puffed out by indistinct maws, the billowing clouds continued to expand and Phil was enveloped in a comfortable, relaxed weakness. Slender tentacles, strong like cord, wound around his wrists and ankles and pulled them apart until Phil was spread-eagled before the ctenophox. Her upper body hovered out of the mist before him, full breasts hanging like swollen, ripe, exotic fruit. Phil was so deep into the opaque mist he could no longer see anything past his abdomen. He shivered as an unseen something brushed up against his exposed penis.
No, this had gone too far, Phil thought, his mind stumbling free of the fog encroaching on his thoughts. Oh fuck. She’d dragged him right into the circle and was almost on top of him. There must have been a mistake. He had to use the emergency dismissal before the daemoness did…whatever she intended to do to him.
“Ex—”
That was as far as Phil got before a thick blue tentacle emerged from the cloud and the fleshy tip covered Phil’s mouth and nose like a mask. The ctenophox shook her head and tutted. He saw her dark blue hair was really a mass of long squirming tendrils.
“You can’t send me away before experiencing the pleasures of my body.”
The pleasures offered by most lust daemons invariably ended up being fatal. Phil struggled against the tentacles binding his limbs. He tried thrashing his head in an attempt to dislodge the appendage attached to his face.
The appendage was hollow. Phil’s eyes widened as the tentacle swelled up. He couldn’t shake it off before a volume of scented gas was forced up his nostrils and into his lungs. Phil’s struggles grew more laboured as the drugged air permeated through his body and dragged his limbs down with languid weight. The fog was within him now. It twined through his mind and obscured his thoughts.
“Breathe and be relaxed,” the girl with blue skin and brilliant shining eyes ordered. Phil heard her voice both through his ears and directly in his mind.
She pumped more blissful relaxant into his body and Phil’s breathing slowed down and fell into the same rhythm as the pulses travelling up the tube. The tenseness left his body. He sank into the gel cushions beneath him with the ctenophox on top of him.
“All those instructions on what I mustn’t do, and yet you never specified exactly what you wished of me,” the ctenophox said. “Shall I assume you’d like me to take the initiative?”
Tentacles dripping with lubricant slithered over Phil’s body in lewd caresses. The ctenophox positioned herself above him. Her full lips formed an o as she let out a breathy sigh. She pushed the shiny round swells of her tits together.
“Mmm, I like taking the initiative,” the ctenophox said. “I like having the freedom to be…creative.”
Her smothering appendage continued to pump more drugged air into Phil’s lungs. The swirling clouds thickened around him. Warm droplets condensed against his exposed skin. He hoped he hadn’t left anything out of the binding clauses. If he had, well there wasn’t much he could do about it now.
The ctenophox sighed like a porn star in heat. Phil couldn’t see what was happening within the opaque clouds. Beneath the veil of mist countless tentacles tickled and caressed him. Soft suction cups toyed with his nipples. They felt like warm lips. Mysterious appendages with a variety of tips—brushes, suckers, sponges—teased his body with exotic sensation. Phil trembled as a soft rubber appendage wound around his penis and gently tugged him to full hardness.
“Don’t think about what I’m doing,” the ctenophox said, “just relax and enjoy the sensation.”
Her upper body settled in his lap. Phil felt some kind of orifice—squishy, gelatinous—wriggle against the fleshy helmet of his erection. She lowered her body and Phil felt his dick slide up into a tight passage with smooth, elastic walls.
“Ooh yes. In you go.”
The girl pouted glistening lips. Her face reminded Phil of the slutty girls staring out of the covers of top shelf magazines. Faces that returned later to visit him in sticky, sweaty dreams. Those girls didn’t have blue skin, but it didn’t matter; the ctenophox was sexy regardless, a real life exotic sci-fi babe.
Phil’s manhood was inside something. At first it didn’t feel too pleasant—clammy, slimy, more like some kind of squishy jelly. Then it started to warm up and press tightly all around his cock until it formed a snug sheath. The walls were formed of thick pads of soft jelly. They moulded perfectly around his member and started to excite him with little throbbing squeezes. Phil’s cock twitched with the same rhythm as blood poured into his growing erection. Now it was pleasant. Really pleasant.
The ctenophox paused and placed a finger thoughtfully on her lips. Within the clouds, the unseen orifice continued to tease Phil’s hard-on with rippling suction.
“As much as I find humans enjoyable, their final release is never as substantial as I’d like. I have some techniques that will help you with this. You don’t object if I use them, do you?”
Phil didn’t, or rather he couldn’t. His mouth was still covered by her gas-pumping appendage. The ctenophox’s lips turned up in a smile.
“No? Oh good,” she said. “Don’t worry. You’ll find this to be very pleasant.”
A slender feeler, slick with lubricant, wormed up into Phil’s ass. It tickled around until it found his prostate and then—
Ooooh!
Phil wasn’t sure what she was doing, couldn’t tell if she was sucking on the gland or squirting something into it, only that an incredibly pleasant sensation was spreading through his groin. She shifted position and something moist and soft enfolded his testicles and began to suck on them.
She removed the mask-like appendage from Phil’s face. She didn’t need it any more. He was under her control now. The air around Phil was already so saturated with her perfumed clouds every breath he took was filled with her fog. Thicker tentacles with rows of what felt like moist lips on the underside wrapped around Phil. He shivered as they left lines of wet kisses along his exposed flesh.
Sighing with pleasure, the ctenophox rocked up and down on him. Gelatinous suction gripped Phil’s twitching erection. Her slender feeler continued to tickle away in his ass. His loins felt weird—hot, fervid. His testicles felt bloated and were growing more and more swollen, encouraged to expand by the soft suckers wrapped around them. Hidden within the mist, the ctenophox was doing something to his genitals, something that made him feel like his semen was building up as though he’d been denied release for months.
“Mmm, I like my men to fill me with a nice big load,” the ctenophox said.
She closed her eyes and squeezed her big blue breasts together. The thick tentacles lined with hot kissing lips squeezed Phil’s body. Her weight settled deeper into his lap, pushing his erection up deeper inside her until the tip pressed up against a soft gelatinous cushion that enfolded his glans and sucked on him. Waves of gentle squeezes ran up his shaft. They spread outwards throughout his body until it felt like everything within him was being focused down to his groin and then up his shaft and into the head of his throbbing cock.
“Oh yes, you’re going to give me a big load.”
She gave him another squeeze, more powerful this time. Soft gelatinous flesh pressed all around and smothered his over-sensitised manhood. Too much. Phil groaned as a wave washed through him, stimulating the muscles of his legs and buttocks, forcing his hips upwards and driving his cock deeper into something soft and smothering that engulfed him and began to suck. His swollen balls contracted and it felt like a dam had been breached as his semen surged up his shaft and erupted outwards in glorious release. He twitched and trembled helplessly beneath the ctenophox as she encouraged more and more semen from him with her pulsating jelly sheath. More, more, a constant eruption into her quivering centre as thick, billowing clouds rolled over him and the ctenophox moaned and writhed on top of him.
Not quite constant, thankfully. Just as Phil was starting to worry he was going to keep ejaculating until he deflated to an empty husk, the ctenophox’s jelly sheath opened up and released him. Completely spent, Phil sank, exhausted, into the soft gel underneath him.
The ctenophox sighed. “So nice. I wish I could suck it all out of you, but then you’d be dried up and dead and I can’t do that as it would violate the terms of our agreement.”
She lay down until her curvaceous upper body rested against Phil’s. Her moist lips pressed against his in a gentle kiss. A probing feeler found Phil’s left ear and slithered inside. A spark flashed inside his brain. He saw the circle he’d chalked on the ground superimposed on his vision as though it had been etched into his eyeballs in sparkling sapphire. As he watched, the design changed. Complex lines and spirals were added to the central circle as if drawn by an invisible hand.
“My name is Ctenylla,” the ctenophox whispered in his ear. “You can summon me directly next time.”
Phil blinked and the sapphire lines faded from his vision. But not from his thoughts. The design was still there, marked indelibly into his memory and available for retrieval any time he desired.
Ctenylla got up off him. She put a hand to her mouth and blew him a kiss. The kiss became a dense pink and blue cloud that expanded to fill Phil’s vision and obscure Ctenylla’s body. When the cloud dissipated Ctenylla was gone, returned to whichever plane she’d been summoned from. The jelly cushions underneath him liquefied and evaporated until Phil was lying naked on the stone floor in the centre of a smudged chalk circle.
He lay there for a while, waiting for his breath to come back. He was still alive? He supposed that meant, technically, the summoning had been a success.
* * * *
Humming a tune to herself, Cέrμləa skipped between the shelves. She ran her finger along the spines of various ancient books, looking for one in particular. Smiling, she identified the tome and pulled it out from the shelf. It was bound in leather or some other less wholesome material. The title, Daemonica Malefique, looked like it had been scorched into the cover with a brand. It looked like an exact duplicate of the book lying open next to Phil’s prone body.
Cέrμləa tapped her tail on the floor and Mr Grinstead rose up out of the centre of a glowing arcane circle.
“You can put this one back now.” She passed the book to the imp. Bowing, it grasped the book to its chest and sank back down into the floor.
Cέrμləa looked over to where Phil was lying on the stone floor. The rise and fall of his chest indicated he was still alive. She smiled and fires sparkled in the depths of her ruby-red eyes.
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