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j-graysonlibrary · 7 months ago

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Your Name

Synopsis: With a group of “friends”, a young adult tries summoning a demon. The demon kills everyone else but keeps them alive because they didn’t bind with their “true name”. They get to talking and things get interesting.

There was nothing especially spooky about the abandoned factory, now that Pit was there. They’d heard their friends talk all about it, citing the strange and paranormal things that had happened both before and after it was shut down. Supposedly, during the twenties, the factory was built to produce car parts and no less than thirty employees lost their lives to the machines. Then, when World War II left nothing but women working stateside, there were five more deaths, leading to some stricter guidelines but it didn’t prevent the place from getting a bad reputation. Somehow, it hung on until the early seventies when, at last, it was shut down and the remaining employees were let go.

Even back then, there were reports of strange noises and unexplainable phenomena but those who said anything, especially while they were at work, got a scolding and weren’t believed. The local paper ran exactly one story about it but no one took it seriously.

It wasn’t until the mid to late nineties that the factory became a hot topic for ghost hunting crews and paranormal fanatics. People would lock themselves up in there for the night and come out, wide eyed and white as snow, claiming to have seen and heard horrific things.

The groundskeeper had since become something of a celebrity, appearing in a few TV shows and being interviewed here and there. He was also the grandfather of one of Pit’s friends—Olive.

She, Amber, Lilly, and Raven were all beyond excited to be spending the night at the old automotive parts factory. They were all practicing witches and had been for the past five years, give or take. Pit had known them since high school and, out of all of their friends, they were the only ones who kept hanging around them when they came out as non-binary.

“Alex,” Lilly called and, when Pit didn’t respond, she raised her voice, “Alex!”

They snapped to and looked over. “…Yes?”

“Pass the chalk, will you?”

Pit nodded and threw her a piece, feeling their throat tighten up. While their friends did accept that they were neither man nor woman, they still weren’t fans of the name they picked out for themselves. Pit sounded dumb, apparently, and it didn’t suit them.

But Alex was just a shortening of their government name, Alexandria. Sure, Alex, itself, was gender neutral and could be used for anyone but Pit wanted a bigger change than that. They understood that their friends might have a hard time remembering or keeping track of all the differences but, if they were being honest, being called Alex continued to make their skin crawl.

They just couldn’t get used to it.

All around them, their friends drew sigils and wrote magic words on the floor in the main room. It was where the majority of workers had been packed in, during the height of business, and also where most of the deaths happened. The heavy machinery had since been removed from the building but the essence of it all, allegedly, remained.

“Make sure to connect the circle to my end,” Raven told Olive, giving her a pointed look. “We’ll have to stay inside of it for the whole ritual.”

“I’m expanding it with another ring to help,” Amber offered, scuttling around the edge.

Pit fidgeted with the vials of herbs and small crystals that they were trusted with holding while the more important parts were set up. They knew next to nothing about witchcraft themselves though they did listen and nod a lot when their friends got together.

Maybe they thought Pit was interested? Or that they were simply good at following directions? For the life of them, they couldn’t remember explicitly agreeing to this outing but, then again, there they were. They’d driven Amber over and hadn’t raised a fuss yet.

But that was too much trouble.

Just like correcting the women when they accidentally called them “she” and “her”, Pit just tended to go along with whatever. Arguing, complaining, even minimal pushback could cause their friends to drift away from them and leave them alone.

Having a group of people they didn’t feel all that connected with was still better than being alone.

Pit watched as the women finished up and lit some more candles. It was to be no normal séance as the goal wasn’t, necessarily, to connect with the souls of the departed. If that was achieved then the women would be happy, of course, but what they truly aimed for with this ritual was to contact to something more powerful and, notably less human.

Frankly, Pit didn’t believe in any of this stuff so they were just awaiting the end. Maybe their friends would think that they found something and maybe some of the candles would flicker because of the slight draft or the building would creak and they would all think it was a vengeful ghost—Pit couldn’t say for sure but they knew a demon from Hell wouldn’t reach out and make any contracts with anyone.

Once the circle and outer circles were complete, everyone gathered inside, their knees practically knocking together, and Olive held a thick book open in her lap.

She cleared her throat, “How are we all feeling?”

“Ready,” Raven was quick to answer.

“Same here,” Lily said.

Amber nodded at first and then chimed in, “Let’s go.”

All eyes landed on Pit and they realized they were meant to say something too.

“Alex?” Olive tilted her head to the side.

“Oh, I’m…” Pit looked down at their lap, still filled with miscellaneous vials. “I’m good. Do I need to do anything with these?”

Raven extended her hand so they passed some over. Olive took the rest and, between them, they filled a bowl with some of the herbs, some oils, and they sprinkled a few choice crystals into the mix. Olive was the first to then put her hand over the bowl and everyone else followed suit, leaving Pit until last again.

They glanced between the women’s faces as they all closed their eyes, thinking about their intentions.

Each of them had a reason for trying to contact and work with a demon. Shitty ex-boyfriends, difficult parents, passive-aggressive co-workers—the list went on. Pit suspected that their friends simply believed that powerful entity from another realm could wave it’s hand and make all of their problems disappear. And, in return, they’d just have to sell their souls or, perhaps, begin to worship this entity directly.

They didn’t know and they didn’t care to ask further questions because it wasn’t going to work anyway.

As expected, the old building made a deep moaning sound and everyone tensed. Their shot open and their hands were pulled back, one by one. “What was that?” Amber asked, whipping her head about.

“Just the building settling,” Pit said, figuring that the logical answer might spur the ritual along.

None of them looked convinced. Raven bit down on her lip. “My house is old and makes noises too but…nothing like that.”

It was a different kind of structure, made of different materials, and at a different state of upkeep—of course it made different noises. Pit gnawed on the inside of their mouth but didn’t say anything else.

“We’ve gotten the attention of something,” Olive said, sure of herself. “Now, we need to speak out our names, starting with me and going counter-clockwise. The demon won’t show itself unless it knows who is summoning it.”

Pit arched an eyebrow and was glad to note that they’d be going last, at least, and could get a proper feel of what was wanted from them before they had to speak.

Olive cleared her throat. “Oh, great and powerful Demurg Sanct, I, Olive, beseech you to appear before us and offer us a taste of your power. In ordinance with this pact, I will bind my soul to yours.”

Lily was next and she wrung her hands together nervously. “Um…right.” She took a deep breath and then committed, “Demurg Sanct, my name is Lily and I, um, implore you to bestow your greatness onto us. We will be your loyal servants and do your bidding on this mortal plane.”

For how unsure she’d started, she sure did double down on the payment for this ritual, Pit thought. They shifted their eyes to Raven who was next.

“Hail Demurg Sanct, the powerful! I, Raven, ask you to meet with us and hear our pleas so that we may form a contact here on this night of the full moon.”

Amber nodded a long, barely waiting for Raven to finish before she started. “Oh, dark and terrible master of the unseen, Demurg Sanct! This servant-in-waiting is named Amber and I will be a willing conduit for your power.”

Unfortunately, even after hearing all of them, Pit still wasn’t sure what they should say.

All eyes landed on them and they cleared their throat, just to buy time. “Um…” They cleared their throat a second time and paused. It wasn’t real, they reminded themselves, so it didn’t matter what they said. “Well, we have all reached out to you, Demurg Sanct…like my friends, I, ugh, Alex, will welcome you and form a contract with you.”

No one gave them a nasty side eye so they suspected they did alright in their introduction. Well enough, at least, to give the impression they were trying.

“Let us now link hands,” Olive instructed and reached out to either side, grabbing onto Lily and Pit. Raven, then, took Lily and Amber. Pit grabbed onto Amber last and a third circle was formed with their bodies. “Now repeat after me: Demurg Sanct come through right now.”

Clumsily, the others echoed, “Demurg Sanct come through right now.” And then, again. Their voices were low, mumbled, and the repeated phrase began to make the air tingle and hum.

Pit started to feel their head spin and the lights on the candles shot up, warping and dancing furiously yet there was no wind. No one stopped chanting and, in fact, their voices grew louder and louder until there was shouting—screaming!

Half the candles were extinguished and Lily’s shrill scream finally cut through the chant and ended it. Her hands were pulled away from Olive and Raven by force as she flew backward.

“What the—!?” Amber started to ask and, similarly, she was yanked back.

Pit watched it happen and still couldn’t understand. They knew nothing could possibly come of the ritual but they also knew their friends weren’t capable of such practical stunts. And their screams were real too.

Raven attempted to stand, the light from the remaining candles illuminating her form and thus making it far easier to see when a pitch black tentacle shot from the ground and impaled her. Both she and Olive screamed while Pit covered their mouth with their hand.

“Wait!” Olive cried out, “We are giving you power! We’re offering ourselves to you!”

A shadowy appendage shot through her chest too, sending her back to the far reaches of the factory. Then, it was only Pit and their immanent doom. Unlike their friends, they couldn’t attempt to run or reason—they still couldn’t believe any of this was happening, honestly. All they could do was stare at the center of the circle where the shadow was darkest and pray for a swift end.

More than just tentacles emerged from the shadow, however. An amorphous body, both tall and wide, covered in eyes and floating symbols that appeared and disappeared at random, came to rise in very middle of the room. Demurg Sanct, Pit guessed, was a real demon and to look at it for long made them loose their grip on reality.

But then, it spoke and the ground felt more solid underneath Pit than it had all night.

“You did not bind with your true name.” Two or three sets of voices spoke at once but, also, they heard it inside of their head, pounding against their brain.

Pit blinked and then furrowed their brows. “…Huh?”

“Your friends used their names to bind with me. I can kill and devour all who speak my name and give me theirs in return but you did not bind with your true name.” Demurg Sanct either drew closer or got bigger—it was difficult to tell the difference.

“I…I don’t know my true name.”

Although Pit’s eyes never left the demon, they could still see the view from their peripherals changing. While still dark, the cool blue tones from the moon shifted to a warmer, richer color. A red glow encompassed them and shined off of Demurg Sanct’s glossy form.

Maybe they were in Hell.

“I do not see how that is possible. All humans know their name.” Demurg Sanct shot out a couple of much smaller tentacles compared to what it had killed Pit’s friends with. They slapped onto the side of their head, by their temples, and felt a little sticky but otherwise firm.

There was no pain while the demon hummed and clicked.

“Strange…” it said after a long moment, “You are telling the truth. You do not have a true name…”

“S-so you can’t kill me?” Pit deduced, hopeful despite their circumstances. If they had read up on the demon like their friends had, then maybe they would be in a better place to bargain. Then again, Olive, Raven, Lily, and Amber had read everything they could and still ended up dead.

“No, not without a proper binding.” Demurg Sanct kept the tendrils on Pit’s temples and began to almost massage them against their skin. If they weren’t terrified, it might have actually felt nice. “I see why you have such a cloudy identity. There are no words in your human language to explain what you are so you have to make do with what is there. Your body is not ideal and you hide it constantly. You wear a mask every day of your life, no matter who you are around. Not only do you not have a true name, you have no true self.”

Pit reeled back but the attachments on their temple stayed put. They might have preferred being killed in a straightforward fashion as the demon’s words cut them wide and deep.

“Damn! Do you have to be so brutal?” Pit yanked the tendrils off of them, holding the two moist and sticky appendages within their right fist. “I’m trying to figure these things out!”

The mass of eyes and letters shifted and a low whine came through. “I see,” it said, quietly, and pulled back it’s tendrils. “I could help in one department, at least.”

“Help?” Pit repeated, confused. The demon had just murdered four people—his friends—when they only wanted to help it out and gain a fraction of it’s power in turn. It’s motives made no sense.

Demurg Sanct, somehow, shrugged or at least the way it threw some tentacles around made it look that way. “You interest me.”

Feeling slightly less certain that they were about to die, Pit leaned back on their palm. “What do you have in mind then?”

Several tentacles shot out, before Pit had a chance to react, and they took purchase all over them. On their arms, legs, and around their middle. They were lifted from the ground with ease and, in the next second, two of the tentacles began to slip under their shirt.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you doing?” Pit attempted to flail but they were held in place and at the mercy of the demon.

The tendrils ripped open their shirt and then tossed the torn fabric aside. The same thing happened with their pants as well, exposing them entirely to the many eyes of Demurg Sanct.

“Relax. I am no sexual deviant—I find humans repulsive.”

Pit found that hard to believe, considering their position, but it was useless to struggle. The slick, sticky hands of the demon were everywhere and stronger than they looked.

In spite of it’s words, Demurg Sanct’s extra set of tendrils attached to Pit’s chest.

They were rather well-endowed which was why they tended to wear overly loose shirts to hide their figure and appear more androgynous. More than anything else, they hated their breasts. Getting them removed would have been ideal but even a reduction would change Pit’s life dramatically.

The ends of Demurg Sanct’s tentacles were like the tips of a tongue with a collection of little bumps for, Pit guessed, grip but now all they could focus on was the way they felt on their nipples. They’d never been in a relationship before (unless you counted the boyfriend they had for three days in the first grade) and they tended to avoid touching and pleasuring themselves altogether.

It was the first time they’d felt such a touch and it was alarming how quickly their body reacted to it.

Each tendril flicked up and down, in unison and Pit let a whimper escape. They couldn’t believe what their voice sounded like and the embarrassment made their cheeks burn.

“H-how is this helping?” they asked, through a tight jaw, not wanting to moan on accident while the demon continued to flick their nipples.

“I am testing the blood flow; this is nothing sexual.” It attached another pair of tentacles, thicker ones, to the bottoms of Pit’s breasts and a sharp, pinching sensation came over them at once.

Before they could ask, something incredible began to occur. Demurg Sanct continued to (unintentionally) pleasure their nipples but the fat in their chest slowly disappeared. The new sets of appendages were sucking out the bulk of their chest.

The excess skin was tightened by some means they couldn’t understand, even while they watched it, but they did understand that it felt incredible. Not only were their nipples being flicked, over and over, by the bumpy, moist tendrils, but the removal of all the breast tissue felt divine.

Pit bit down on their bottom lip and relaxed, enjoying the experience without worry now. They moaned in the back of their throat and felt a growing, pulsing sensation between their legs.

If Demurg Sanct wanted to be a pervert, now was it’s chance.

“There, the body of your wildest dreams is now yours,” the demon said, slowing it’s passes over Pit’s chest but not giving up entirely. It was for blood flow, after all.

They sighed out and said, “Thank you…ah…it’s…oh! It’s better than I ever imagined…”

The tentacles against his nipples pressed harder, back and forth. “…Does this feel good?”

With a red face, Pit nodded vigorously.

“I have another area I wanted to alter for you, possibly. You seemed unsure, in your heart whether you wanted it touched or not.”

Of course, Pit knew exactly what the demon spoke of but they wanted to feel it’s slick appendages there so they played dumb. “Where do you mean?”

The pointed touch of the bumpy tip against their clit was mind numbing. “Here,” Demurg Sanct said, rubbing up and down slowly.

Pit closed their eyes and couldn’t help the sound that eked out through their lips. “Hnnng…right…I tend to ignore it all.”

“Maybe I can help you decide…” The multiple voices of the demon sounded less sure now than they had before and one of the layers, Pit swore, was breathier.

Another tendril snaked further below, circling around their asshole while a thicker appendage pressed against their pussy. The one on their clit continued to rub and flick, just like the two on their nipples.

“I…I’ve never had anything in me before,” Pit said, as a warning. They had no idea what to expect and hoped that the demon would be careful and not end up impaling them in a very different way than it had their friends.

Demurg Sanct remained silent for a while and then pushed forward the tentacle at Pit’s ass. It wasn’t especially large but was still foreign in every way and their body struggled to open up to it. The moisture coating the outside helped and, once the tip was in, a warm, oily liquid was shot out and into Pit, letting it slip in further.

The sensation was wild and the discomfort was gone almost immediately. It was still strange, sure, but Pit couldn’t deny that they wanted more and their cunt was already weeping on it’s own.

A larger tip rested at that entrance and seemed almost reluctant to join in. “You know…I really don’t do sex stuff with mortals,” Demurg Sanct insisted. “This is a one-time thing…so don’t look into it too deeply.”

Pit groaned and agreed, for the sake of moving things along, “Of course. This doesn’t mean anything to me either.”

It’s last tentacle pushed it’s way in, seeping that same oily secretion to lubricate the path forward. It jutted in and out a couple of times before stuffing in deep, filling Pit entirely. They shouted and balled their hands into fists. Their toes curled too as the tentacles began to pump, one after the other, inside of them.

Demurg Sanct still hadn’t let off of their nipples and the pleasure had circled into pain territory and, very quickly, back to pleasure again. Likewise, the attention on their clit was constant. There was almost too much to feel at once and Pit’s vision began to blur.

Almost every hole they had was being fucked by the demon and they no longer cared about their shame, only their electrified body. “Oh fuck!” Pit cried out as Demurg Sanct found a groove in both their ass and pussy. The wet slapping as the tentacles surged in and out of them was akin to another bundle of nerves being services.

They panted and writhed, mad with desire that didn’t exist in them at all until a few moments ago.

“Fuck me! Oh! Oh! Yeah! Ooooh yes! Yes! YES! FUCK!”

Pit squirted with force and whimpered while Demurg Sanct continued to fuck and flick all over them. It was too much—far too much—but at least a change did start to occur.

Where their clit was concerned, the tentacle pressed into it and the familiar pinch returned. It was enough of a sharp, pleasant pain to force Pit to cum again, their legs shaking fiercely within the demon’s grip. Then, the fat that had been removed from their breasts was slowly pumped into their clitoris, making it larger and larger by the second.

Skin stretched and swelled, giving them a massive erection that already felt ready to blow. A gentle wind against them could have easily gotten them to cum a third time.

They were proven right when the tentacle wound around their member and pumped only once. Whatever magic the demon had conducted also re-routed Pit’s urethra because the tip of their clit-cock hybrid opened up and showered them both with translucent cum.

It felt similar but not quite the same. Pit couldn’t say, off the top of their head, which was better but they could say that Demurg Sanct was a fiend.

For not having sex with humans, it sure seemed to know what it was doing.

“Which parts are better?” Demurg Sanct asked, pumping slowly now but giving no inclination that it would cease. Cum and oil dripped down it’s appendages and the droplets fell steadily onto the floor all around them.

Drip, drip, drip.

And, on top of that, the wet suction of Pit’s holes, still slurping up the length of the demon’s tentacles, made it hard to hear anything else. Pit could just barely stay in the present with their body so on fire but, thankfully, one of Demurg Sanct’s voices was transmitted directly into their head.

They gulped in air and replied honestly, “I don’t know. It all feels incredible…” As the demon’s slick arm pumped against their G-spot, they cried out. “Ah! But I do know one thing…I’m sure of it…!”

It was difficult to tell but it almost sounded as if Demurg Sanct grunted. It’s tendrils made wide sweeps over Pit’s nipples and it tugged slowly against their gorged clit. “What is it? Tell me.”

Pit bit down on their lip but couldn’t hold the skin between their teeth for long. “Ughn! Well, I…” They wanted to be able to twist and turn out of the demon’s grip. Another orgasm, at this point, could border on torture and they had a feeling that Demurg Sanct wouldn’t stop there. So, part of their confession was to get the weight off of their own chest while the rest was the slim hope that speaking their truth would end this. “I’ve been thinking of a name for a while now but only I use it for myself.”

“Say it! Let me hear it! I won’t kill you, I promise.” The demon’s appendages started to thrust deeper and harder. “I am close now…I need to hear it.”

“So these are your genitals,” Pit mused aloud the suspicions they already had.

“Come on…” Demurg Sanct begged, pumping into both of their holes in tandem while milking their huge clit with a tighter grip.

“P-Pit!” they shouted and gasped as more oil was shot into them. They suspected it was the demon’s cum but it only started to thrust faster once the deposit was made. “Fuck! Fuck! I’m too fucking full already—I can’t take much more!”

“Huuuh, huuuh, Pit,” Demurg Sanct groaned their name and even it’s formless mass started to quiver. A new appendage shot forth from the darkness as well and Pit only wondered for a second where it would go until it was made obvious.

Their lips were graced by the bumpy tip, already excreting oils in excitement. Although they speculated the substance could make them sick, they still licked it and let the oil coat their tongue. It was both sweet and salty—frankly, it was borderline tasty.

But Pit didn’t get to take any more small licks to get used to the flavor because Demurg Sanct shoved itself into their mouth and down their throat. The tip tickled the back of their esophagus as it pumped in, venturing further each time. Tears welled up in their eyes as the tentacle choked them, relentlessly fucking to the same rhythm as the others.

Every one of their holes was filled and pounded while their nipples and clit were serviced. Though they could no longer speak or cry out, they still gurgled and moaned around the girth of the demon’s appendage. They were also able to look at it and see the symbols that appeared the strongest—phallic shapes and penetrative gestures. That, mixed with the fact that all of it’s eyes were rolled backwards gave a pretty clear indication of what it was feeling.

“Oh Pit! Pit! I wish you had even more holes for me to fill! It isn’t enough!” Demurg Sanct lamented while it fucked them, sending out even more tentacles to snake into their hands, against their armpits, and between their ass cheeks. Pit only managed to help the ones in their hands, gripping them firmly and giving them something more tangible to squeeze through. “Yes! Oh, you humans normally disgust me but I could do this for a small eternity! Call out to me Pit! Call my name!”

Of course, they couldn’t—not with their mouth and throat occupied.

“Ah, right,” the demon realized when it was met with a choked moan. “Think it then! I’ll feel your intent, your passion! Cum, cum with me!”

Pit’s body seized, attacked from all angles, and all of their nerves shot out in ecstasy at once. They felt oils ooze down their hands, between their knuckles, and over their chest. The salty-sweet goo shot down their throat, giving them no choice but to swallow and both their pussy and ass were filled to the brim with demon cum.

Their clit twitched and spurted as well, almost hurting with how abused it had been. The flesh was a stark red and continued to tremble even after orgasm, giving Pit the sensation of phantom waves flowing through them.

Demurg Sanct’s tentacles leaving their holes led to much of the cum and oil pouring out of them, as if they were pissing enough for three. The expulsion, itself, was pleasurable and Pit moaned as they strained to push out the excess, spraying and showering the demon.

Finally, they were let down, onto the ground, and their feet were nearly lost in the puddle of fluids.

“Uh….uh….” Demurg Sanct breathed heavily and retracted most of it’s appendages, leaving only two. With them, it rubbed down Pit’s body, between their legs, and around to their ass. More of the moisture was removed—it was cleaning them.

“What now?” Pit asked, genuinely unsure. They could be killed, now that they’d given their true name and the demon had gotten off, or they could be stuck in this strange alternate plane of existence. Even if they were allowed back home, they weren’t sure how they would go on with life.

To answer them, the demon just changed the scenery. They were back in the abandoned factory and Pit’s friends were strewn about, just as dead as they were before. The only difference was that, in the middle of the circle, the black shadow was much smaller.

It scuttled closer with two eyes that resembled something out of a cartoon and it spoke in a much smaller, squeakier voice. Still, Pit could tell it was Demurg Sanct.

“Now, you can keep me with you. Our binding it complete and I approve of you, Pit.”

They shook their head, bewildered. “What does that mean…?”

“It means you can do whatever you want. You think it, I’ll make it a reality. Just know that I will get hungry.”

Pit could only guess, “Will you need human flesh or something?”

“That could work but…” the demon trailed off, it’s ridiculous eyes bouncing around. “I meant a different kind of hunger. Now that I’ve gotten a taste, I want more. You let me ravage your body and I’ll be at your beck and call.”

With a soft sigh, Pit kneeled down and scooped Demurg Sanct into their hands. The demon fit perfectly though it felt a bit like cold snot to the touch.

“Alright,” they agreed to it’s terms and walked out of the building, giving no second glance to their old friends.

#my writing #erotica anthology #unedited #dont look at me like that

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j-graysonlibrary · 7 months ago

Text

One Good Turn

Synopsis: After years of getting mysterious financial help to get through medical school, a young doctor finally meets her benefactor but increasingly forward texts lead to an erotic relationship.

After a long and exhausting journey, Sara had finally done it and she held the proof in her hands. Her work wasn’t done, of course, and she couldn’t get complacent now that she’d passed this huge milestone but, for the next week, she’d just lay back and enjoy.

And, just maybe, be a little prideful.

Her mother certainly was. The second Sara announced the news, Karen wrapped her arms around her, managing to pick her up and spin around—a feat she hadn’t even attempted since Sara had gotten bigger than her.

It was just that exciting.

“My baby’s a doctor!”

Sara laughed and let her head spin for a moment before pulling back. “I’m not a doctor yet, mom. I just finished med school.”

“Well, you’re going to be a doctor! Soon!” Karen clung to her, pulling her back into a hug. Her voice cracked as she said, “My daughter is so smart and hardworking…I’m so proud.”

Hearing her mother breakdown was her sole weakness and Sara’s vision began to blur. She tried to fight it but when she heard a sniffle from the woman in her arms, the tears came streaming down. It was a relief to let it all out anyway—so much of the stress and worry she’d been keeping bottled up and now, at least in that moment, she could finally uncork the bottle.

For years, Sara had been working her ass off to achieve her dream but she hadn’t been solely focused on getting her degree either. A lot of the other med students—most she would say—had the luxury of putting blinders on and charging headfirst into the work with no need to stop or pause.

Sara, however, had an ongoing personal transformation she was tending to at the same time.

In her second year of college, she realized something about herself. It was in the back of her mind, always, but it was nebulous and shrouded in shadow. She’d had moments of clarity, short lived, through her life and especially as puberty hit but none of those times were quite enough to stop her and make her say something.

Meeting a transwoman in college helped to lift the veil.

Her biology professor was a sharp and charming woman who carried herself with confidence and grace. She wasn’t shy about being born male and claimed it helped to spark her interest in her field. Then, when she explained that the sexes, themselves weren’t as binary as most believed, Sara was intrigued.

She felt, at first, that maybe she’d been born with some cross-over. Maybe she would find something female in herself if she got everything checked and when she brought this up to Professor Liang, she was met with a knowing stare.

Some reassurance that she wasn’t alone and gentle prodding to self reflect saw Sara staring into her own soul in a mirror and thinking, “I know who I really am; but can I let anyone know?”

The friends that she’d made in college, so far, had been pretty open. A couple of them were queer themselves so she felt safe cracking the shell of her egg around them. She wore a little bit more makeup and started to dress in women’s clothes that weren’t overly feminine but weren’t exactly masculine either.

Her friends, quickly, pieced together what was going on when she came to them with a serious, “I need to tell you all something.”

They supported her without question, right away promising that they would be her new family if her mother and father disowned her. The gesture was sweet, of course, but Sara deeply wanted to keep her parents in her life. Even after their divorce when she was ten, she remained close with them both.

Her mother was her best friend.

The night she came out to her, Karen wept. She wasn’t upset or disappointed but overjoyed, with a side serving of worry. “You are my child and I love you no matter what,” she told Sara, “That’s the most important thing. Besides that, I’m so happy that you let me know.”

“I want you to take me out…so we can do mother-daughter stuff,” Sara said through her own tears. No matter her age, her mother crying always got her.

Karen wailed and held her for at least an hour that night. Then, she held her and cried again when Sara’s father was resistant to her changes and needed time to think things over. He wasn’t conservative by nature but he had been proud to have son.

He came around though—eventually. In fact, he showed up to the celebration party for Sara’s graduation along with all of her friends at Karen’s house. Sara’s apartment was too cramped for the amount of people in attendance and Karen had a pool that she said, “never got enough use anyway”.

The radio was turned up and Karen brought out more trays of food while everyone mostly hung around the pool and drank cocktails. It was a bigger event than Sara had expected but she wouldn’t lie—she was elated by the turnout. To see all of her friends, smiling, laughing, and congratulating her put a smile on her face that she couldn’t wipe off if she tried. Not that she wanted to, of course.

Honestly, she didn’t want the day to end as selfish as it might have been.

She nursed a mimosa and kicked her feet into the shallow end of the pool. With her phone in her pocket, she wouldn’t dive in with anyone but she considered setting it off to the side and joining in on the game of volleyball happening in the center. The inflatable beach ball was hardy the same as a real volley ball but those of her friends who were involved seemed to be having a blast.

Sara slipped her phone from her pocket, accidentally turning the screen on as she gripped it. She had no intention of being on her phone during her party but she saw a text she couldn’t possibly ignore.

“Message from Benefactor” the banner read.

Her eyes darted from side to side and she pulled her phone closer, swiping across the screen to view the message. It was rather short but had the same tone she was used to.

“I heard of your accomplishment, Sara. Congratulations are in order and so is the truth. Next weekend, come to the Grand Hotel, tell the clerk your name, and ask for a spare key to the penthouse. Bring your mother as well, for I would also like to meet her.”

Sara’s heart pounded in her chest and she read over the message a second time. She’d have to bring it up with her mother, either toward the end of the party or even later. Knowing Karen, her face would show something was amiss if she was told before everyone had left.

She breathed out a long exhale and then set her phone down, next to the pool so she could hop in. Joining her friends’ game of volley ball, shouting and laughing with them, did distract her for a time but her mind kept being pulled back to her benefactor.

Since she was a teen, she’d been receiving money from them. Well, in reality, her parents were receiving money from them and using it for her. None of them knew who the benefactor was or why they were helping out. When asked, they simply replied that they enjoyed sharing their wealth.

Sara and her family weren’t especially poor and they hadn’t struggled terribly but, with her desire to become a doctor, their savings would have been gutted in order to put her through school. Or, she would have just had to accept insurmountable student loan debt.

So, the money was definitely appreciated even if they had no clue what the source was. More recently, Sara had even gotten some funds directly from her benefactor to help her pay for gender affirmation surgeries. Her breasts, her facial surgeries, and her vaginalplasty were all covered, in full, by her mysterious benefactor. The only thing her mother footed the bill for was her hormone pills but she had those covered by insurance.

No one outside of the family knew. Sara found it hard to explain since even she didn’t understand it. She also worried it would make her friends, who often struggled far more than she did, start to look at her differently. They already made comment about her parents being well off (which they were now, not having to lift a finger for her college or surgeries) so how would they react to know that all of those massive expenses were handled by some invisible outside force?

It was a situation out of a dream and Sara battled guilt over it, though she was grateful too.

Now that she would finally meet the person who had affected her life so greatly, she was also terribly nervous. Texting and emailing them on occasion was one thing but looking into their eyes and speaking to them was bound to be strange.

Without them, she’d probably still be saving up for her breast implants and she’d be forced into becoming okay with keeping her penis around. Her grades likely would have taken a hit and she might not have managed to graduate as quickly, making her dreams fade away until they were out of reach.

She’d have to thank them somehow, more than just saying it verbally, but she wasn’t sure what to do. Now that she was on her way to being a doctor, she could promise to take care of them but, even in her imagining of that conversation, it sounded weak.

Luckily, her friends didn’t notice anything amiss with her attitude shift and kept drinking and partying until the sun went down. Karen helped them all get rides home and Sara decided to just stay the night with her mother. She always kept a spare room just for her anyway.

As she lay in her bed, wide awake, she considered how she’d tell her mother about the benefactor. Since she started her transition, they had swapped to only communicating to her, leaving her parents out of any conversation they had so Sara knew there would be no email awaiting Karen in the morning. She’d have to tell her, over breakfast, that it was finally time to see the face of their savior.

Just like Sara expected, Karen dressed over the top for the meeting. She’d gotten her hair done, stopped by a nail salon to have her nails shaped and polished, and her dress looked and smelled brand new. Sara felt underdressed standing next to her mother, especially when she spotted the string of pearls around her neck. They weren’t real but they still made her appear that much more expensive.

All Sara had done was slap on a natural makeup look, pin her hair back, and slip on a business casual dress. It was a little low cut but it came down to her knees and had a boxy outline, giving her (she hoped) an air of professionalism. She’d considered putting a jacket over the top but it was so hot out that she couldn’t risk the sweat stains.

The Grand Hotel towered before them and Sara gulped instinctively. She glanced to her mother who kept her chin up and pointed forward.

It wasn’t easy, but she took after her.

When they walked up to the front desk, she led with false bravado. “Hello, my name is Sara. This is my mother, Karen. I am here for the spare key to the penthouse.”

The woman at the desk nodded with a small smile and handed the card over without any further questions. Sara’s heart dropped to her gut but at least the first hurdle was cleared. She and her mother hopped onto the elevator, hitting the button for the top floor.

There was no music, only silence. Karen began to hum but that just made Sara more nervous. She couldn’t bring herself to tell her mother to stop though, so she just swallowed her feelings down.

When the doors opened, they were greeted with spotless halls and golden doors. The penthouse was before them and, even if she had a card, Sara was scared to simply walk in. She wondered if she should knock first or maybe text her benefactor.

She pulled out her phone and went with the second option. Her mother peered over her shoulder all the while, breathing heavy.

“We are here. Should we come in?” Sara sent and then bit down on her lip.

After only a second, a reply came. “Yes.”

Karen slapped her arm, whispering hoarsely, “Put the card in!” while Sara struggled to get it to read correctly. She had to flip it and try again, still enduring the incessant slaps from her mother.

The door finally shined a green light and unlocked. Sara pushed it forward and winced, expecting to see her benefactor right away but, of course, they were in yet another hall. Or, more aptly, an entryway.

Both of them scuttled closer, finding that the penthouse was more like a massive apartment than a slightly bigger, fancier, hotel room. The living quarters opened up and, before three large windows, stood a figure—rather short, average build, and wearing a pantsuit.

Sara’s mouth dried up as the woman turned around and smiled at her. She was easily in her sixties but she still wore loud makeup—a bright red lip and a hint of blue on her eyelids—and she had a slight heel on her shoes. The first thing Sara thought when she saw her was that the woman looked like a cookie-cutter politician.

If she was one, Sara felt hopeless because she didn’t recognize her at all.

With a wide, welcoming grin, the benefactor said, “You both look stunning. It is nice to finally meet you face to face. My name is Eleanor”

Karen stumbled on her words but she at least managed to speak. “Well we—um, it is wonderful to meet you too, Miss Eleanor. I was going to say that we were oh so grateful for your help over the years. Yes, we…we couldn’t have gotten Sara through college and med school without you.”

Eleanor closed her eyes and shook her head. “Your thanks aren’t necessary.” She opened her eyes again, lingering on Sara. “For the past thirty years, I have taken a look at some of the promising youth in our community and I’ve committed myself to helping out a chosen few. See, I was born with everything I could ever need and my wealth and success were never in question. I may not have the money or power to change the world, exactly, but I can help those who might become something great. Like Sara.”

Having her name spoken by Eleanor, with the woman’s piercing blue eyes on her, sent a shiver up her spine.

“Watching you power through your classes while discovering yourself was truly a marvel,” the woman continued, “I know now that you will accomplish greatness. Not everyone I play benefactor for achieves the level that you have and that is why I wanted to meet you.”

Sara blinked a few times and was finally able to break her silence. “I appreciate the praise but…I’m still not a doctor yet.”

Eleanor smiled. “But you will be. You have worked too hard and you have too much to prove to allow yourself to fail. Besides, I would always offer you a safety net, should you need it though I know that you won’t.”

Pressure fell onto her shoulders, hearing that, but pride sparked to life in her chest as well. If Eleanor had really helped so many other people and seen some succeed while others failed, maybe she could tell that Sara was destined to reach her end goal.

She started to smile too. “…Thank you.”

“So, if I heard that correctly…” Karen worried her pearls between her fingers. “You intend to keep paying Sara?”

“Well, the bulk of the expenses are over and done with,” Eleanor replied, not at all offended by the bluntness of her question. She continued, “There is no more med school and no more major surgeries however that does not mean I cannot spoil her if I feel like it.”

Her blue eyes, again, went to Sara and, this time, they scanned over her from head to toe. Sara’s cheeks flushed and she instinctively folded her arms over her chest, trying and failing to hide her cleavage.

“That really isn’t necessary…” she began to mutter but was cut off.

“It is my money, dear. I can spend it how I please just as you can accept it, if you please.” Eleanor’s tone was sharper but not cutting. She came back with a warmer tone, to soften her words, “I am aware some people take money as lifeblood and any transactions are seen as serious ties so, if it helps, think of me as an old family friend who sends far too much in their annual Christmas card.”

Karen chuckled at that. “As far as I am concerned, you are a family friend Miss Eleanor.”

After that, there was nothing more to be said. Eleanor shook both of their hands and, on Sara’s turn, she patted the top of her hand, meeting her eyes and smiling one last time.

When she returned to her apartment, after listening to her mother rave about Eleanor for about an hour, she pulled out her phone and looked in her contacts. A small part of her wanted to delete the Benefactor’s information and maybe block her but, when she pulled up the page, she couldn’t go through with it.

Instead, she changed the name to Eleanor.

She also looked the woman up online, now that she had some vital new information and found her rather easily. While she wasn’t a politician, she did show her face around political fundraisers and events quite often. She held and attended many fundraisers and if there was some elite function in town, she was there.

Usually, she showed up to these places alone as she was only married once—long ago in her twenties and into her mid thirties—but every so often she would take a young man or woman with her. When asked, she would say they were a beneficiary and that she had taken them under her wing.

All the stories, from what Sara could find, were reminiscent of her own. Of course, she hadn’t doubted Eleanor when she said she’d given money to others but to actually see those who came before her made her feel a bit strange. It didn’t help that each of them looked to Eleanor with a similar, adoring face.

And she, for her part, gave them the same eyes she’d cast at Sara earlier in the day.

Just as she was about to close her laptop, her phone lit up. It was a message from Eleanor and, while it might have been a bit ridiculous, Sara still whipped her head around to make sure she wasn’t being stalked.

When the coast was clear, she picked up her phone and read: “Hello, Sara. It was truly lovely to speak with you today. You are far more beautiful in person than I expected.”

She could picture her face; she could hear her words, spoken directly from her lips. Her body shivered again and she debated what to say in return, if she should say anything at all.

Getting that kind of attention from men was something Sara was used to—they wouldn’t always say something but they would stare and salivate. But a woman of Eleanor’s age? It was a brand new experience and her brain couldn’t compute it fast enough to decide how she felt about it.

Sara chewed on her bottom lip and typed, “Thank you again for everything. Maybe I could be your doctor one day to make up for it?”

It was a bit silly to say but she hoped Eleanor didn’t take it too seriously. Or, worse, take offense.

“Dear, I told you there is no need for payback. But if you really feel that the scales are uneven, you can send me a picture of yourself so that I can always view your pretty face whenever I want.”

Sara’s stomach flipped. She’d never been asked for a selfie in such a way nor had she ever been so nervous to take a picture of herself, for any reason. She had put more comfortable clothes on—a tank top and some shorts—but her makeup hadn’t been washed off yet so she at least didn’t have to worry about that.

With some warm lighting behind her, she posed with a smile and did a few touchups in editing to help smooth things out. Her hands trembled as she sent it over and she added, “Sorry I’m in my pajamas already.”

There was a long pause before anything came back. Sara began to wonder if a selfie wasn’t what Eleanor was wanting or if, maybe, she’d taken too long sending it over that the woman had checked out of the conversation. She busied herself with her social media feeds until the text banner appeared again.

“Lovely anyway. Though I am surprised. Maybe it is my incorrect view of you, Sara, but I assumed your night-time wear would be more vivacious than that.”

Sara’s heart fluttered. Did she mean a negligee? Or maybe full-on lingerie?

Although a part of her warned against it, Sara texted back. “I do have some saucier night clothes but I wanted to be comfortable tonight lol.”

It was a little casual but after sending the woman a picture of herself, she felt it was probably fine.

Eleanor responded with surprising speed. “Could I see one?”

The directness of it threw Sara for a loop and her head spun as if she had a sudden vertigo spell. She should have firmly told her no, that she was crossing a line, but, at the same time, Sara didn’t hate the idea of putting on something a little risqué to see the feedback she got.

There was nothing harmful going on—she wasn’t a teenager anymore and Eleanor had helped her more than she could ever, realistically pay back. If the woman wanted a little peep show as a treat, she had earned it, Sara thought.

Or, perhaps, she was just making up some other reason to dig into her wardrobe, to pull out her silky night gown with the low, lace neckline, and to take a picture than the simple fact that she wanted to. Her heart was aflutter and she felt a low pulse between her legs as she set up the angle just right.

She wasn’t showing anything—not really—but her breasts were definitely the stars of the picture. With a trembling hand, she added a text with the picture, “It’s not that comfortable to sleep in but here you go.”

Just like with the first picture, Eleanor took a while to answer. Sara had the unfortunate thought that she was touching herself between responses. The notion that her pictures, neither of them even nudes, were evoking that kind of a reaction from a woman well past menopause was dizzying.

Finally, Eleanor came back. “Well don’t be uncomfortable on account of me. Go ahead and take that off. Show me when you’re done.”

Sara couldn’t be sure but she felt as though that was an ask for a nude picture. She debated whether she should clarify but her gut told her the answer, as did her clit. She tucked her lips in, mulling over her next action with far less of a clear head than she needed.

She had exchanged sexual texts before and, as a matter of fact, that sort of relationship was what she had the most experience in. Med school didn’t offer much time for traditional dating and her transition posed separate obstacles. So, to take a topless picture wasn’t new but it felt far, far different.

The receiver was the woman who had paid for her breasts—faceless and nameless until today. She’d been watching over her like a guardian angel and now she wanted to see her body and to reap the rewards.

Sara’s face was obviously red in the photo, even with some supplemental editing, but she sent it anyway. Her face burned brighter once it went through and she waited painfully for the reply from Eleanor.

This time, it took twice as long as usual. She had to be pleasuring herself or, otherwise, Sara had read all the signals wrong and Eleanor was utterly confused as to why she had boobs on her phone. Just considering that option was enough to make Sara want to jump off a bridge so she tried not to linger there.

Then, her phone lit up. She snatched it up as if it would run away from her and hungrily devoured the text.

“Those are some beautiful breasts that I paid for. I will send the surgeon a gift basket as thanks. And thank you, Sara, for letting me see. You are a very good girl.”

Her legs clenched together as her pussy ached. Why? Why was it that this old woman’s words were making her so horny?

To ensure she couldn’t do any more damage, Sara sent her a goodnight text and put her phone on Do Not Disturb while she leaned back. There was no reason to put any clothes back on as she began to run her fingers down against her clit and toward her hole. She sucked in air through her teeth and rubbed, thinking of how much Eleanor might enjoy a show like this.

As much as if confused her, Sara pictured the woman’s face—just watching. She started to moan and rock her hips against her hand, losing all sense of herself. Mostly, she focused on her clitoris but, every few strokes, she teased a finger at her opening, imagining the excitement that might bring her benefactor. She never committed though and rubbed herself to completion, whimpering under her breath as her muscles tensed and then relaxed.

Work started in a flash and the long hours kept Sara away from her friends and her family even more than her schooling had. She was exhausted each time she returned home and she was constantly playing catch-up with her loved ones.

It took two weeks before she could have a lunch date with her mother but it felt as though it had been far longer. Usually, they saw one another a couple times a week so the new schedule would take some getting used to.

Karen beamed regardless and held Sara’s hands across the table. “How’s my little doctor?”

She blushed and shook her head. “Mom, I’m still just shadowing and learning. It’ll be awhile before I’m taking patients on my own.”

“Has it been hard?” Her mother asked more sincerely.

“Some days, yeah,” Sara answered, matching her tone. “But it’s very rewarding. It’s what I always dreamed just…with more paperwork and running around.”

Karen snickered and let her go. “I’m glad to hear it. Hopefully this ‘every two weeks’ thing doesn’t become the norm. I don’t know if I can handle such long breaks. We’ll have too much to talk about!”

“We’ll work it out,” Sara assured her. If nothing else, they’d get used to it after a while. She’d miss her mother, naturally, but if it was all work keeping her focus then she wouldn’t have time to linger on it.

As expected, her mother poked out her lower lip. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she repeated with a quiet laugh. “So, what’s been going on with you?”

Karen dove straight in without any preamble. She went over her work drama, her book club read for the month, and the status of her garden which was, unfortunately, infested with some type of burrowing insect. She showed pictures and Sara nearly lost her appetite.

“Yes, they’re terrible pests. I don’t know what I should do because the pest control people will only douse them with their spray and that’ll kill my plants too.” Karen sighed loudly. “Anyway, that’s the most exciting thing in my life. Pretty sad, huh?”

Sara shook her head back and forth with a smile. “I want you to have a cozy life with minimal issues. If some pesky bugs are the worst of your problems then that’s worth celebrating.”

Her mother chuckled but then raised her glass to drink. Once she swallowed, she asked, “Has Eleanor kept in contact with you at all?”

The question was so far out of left-field that Sara almost choked on her drink. She managed to swallow and then forcefully nodded. “…Yeah,” she said, glancing to the side, “She’s sent me a few texts.”

“That’s nice.” Karen leaned back in her seat with a smile. “She wasn’t what I expected but I got the impression she’s a nice woman. And not just because she’s given us a lot of money.”

Sara nodded again, not wanting to say anymore. All she could think about were the texts shared between them and how they had continued since that first night. While Sara was drained after each shift at the hospital, she always managed to gain a second wind when she saw a message from Eleanor.

She’d even found a deposit on her money app from the woman with the reason for the transaction being “As Thanks”.

Her phone buzzed next to her glass of wine and her eyes shot to the screen, already knowing who it would be. She wasn’t, necessarily, expecting Eleanor but because of the conversation, she felt it coming.

And, sure enough, her name came across the screen.

Sara opened the conversation, seeing remnants of their last exchange, and she cringed now that she was in the presence of her mother. Eleanor’s opening text for the day was almost just as bad.

“Been thinking about you this morning. Are you at work in your scrubs? Or are you taking time off and being comfortable? Either way, I would love to see you.”

Perhaps her mother wouldn’t think anything of it other than it was a little odd but Sara still felt her cheeks get hot. She cleared her throat and stood up. “Excuse me; I’ll be right back.”

Taking her phone with her, she headed for the bathroom, finding a stall and locking it. Her heart hammered in her chest as she popped a few of the buttons on her shirt and made sure her black, lacey bra was visible. She took a photo tugging her shirt down, to the side, and sent it over.

Realistically, she couldn’t wait the full amount of time that Eleanor usually took to respond so she gave it only a few seconds before her hand was on the latch to the door. Then, a text came through.

“Wonderful picture but I don’t have an active imagination, dear. I would love to see your perky nipple free of that bra. Film yourself for me.”

Sara’s brow furrowed and she bit down on her tongue, keeping a whimper in check. She did as she was asked, switching from the photo setting to video. Once her thumb pressed the record button, she moved to her breast with her free hand.

Watching herself do it on the screen felt more perverse than the countless times she’d done the same thing. Her middle finger circled over her nipple, still covered by the bra, and she licked her lips in anticipation. She was drawing it out for both Eleanor and herself.

She met her own eyes in the phone and pulled down her bra, allowing her tit to burst free. Her nipple was hard, reaching skyward and she brought her middle finger back, pushing and prodding. The sensation was sharp and shot straight down to her loins, making her squirm.

With her teeth pulling her bottom lip, she circled her nipple and then started to flick against it. Capturing all of her small expressions was embarrassing but also deeply arousing. To know that Eleanor would watch this and get off to it made her want to do more.

But, she had little time and also couldn’t possibly risk being overheard. Already, she was struggling to keep from making any sounds as the abuse she inflicted against her own nipple was painfully sweet. Her clit still throbbed and her hips arched forward, against nothing while she danced oh so close to climax.

As little as she wanted to, she stopped and also ended the recording. Without looking it over, far too ashamed to, she sent the entire clip to Eleanor and then covered herself back up.

The rest of her lunch with her mother was awkward but only on her end. As they talked and ate their half-sandwiches, Sara’s mind was still on the bathroom and the video—how it felt to film herself and see the way she pleasured herself.

She felt her phone buzz a few times as well, against her leg in her pocket. Terribly, she wanted to read what Eleanor had to say but she forced herself to wait until she was back home, behind a locked door and alone.

“Stunning. Absolutely stunning.”

“You have the sweetest face when you’re touching yourself.”

“God, I could watch this over and over again.”

“Dear, I don’t mean to be too forward but could I see that pussy I paid for?”

Sara felt lightheaded. She had to grip the side of the counter in her kitchen to keep upright. Of course, she could have seen this result coming but it still made her woozy to read it.

Eleanor wanted to see her cunt.

The speed at which Sara took her clothes off must have been a record. She sat down on her kitchen floor and positioned her camera between her legs. It was a simple shot, no bells and whistles, but she wouldn’t do more until she was asked.

When Eleanor texted back, she held her phone in both of her hands. “What a good girl you are. Bless you, dear; you make this old woman happy.”

There was nothing else after and Sara waited for a bit, hoping there would be some instruction or some other request. When nothing came through, she typed, “Do you want to watch me stroke it? I have toys too.”

She’d never opened herself up in their conversations before but she couldn’t deny that she wanted to continue. If that meant urging Eleanor to pick things back up, she would…even if it made her face burn.

The dots danced on the screen and Sara leaned in. Finally, Eleanor replied, “If that is what you want. Just seeing your pussy is a gift in itself but if you really want to get my blood pressure up you can make me another video.”

Sara grinned and retrieved her lube and her favorite dildo. It was a little above the average size and, to an outside perspective, it probably looked too big for her body but that was part of the appeal. She wished she could see Eleanor’s face when her pussy devoured it.

She set up her phone on a tripod stand, allowing it to hover over her for the best angle or so she hoped. It would capture all of her, including her face. Maybe that was stupid of her, she thought briefly, but then disregarded it when her hormones took back over.

She started by caressing her breasts, playing with her nipples again until she cried out. Then, she rubbed against her clit and began to apply lube. One finger went into her first and then two until they were sliding in and out with a wet, sloshing sound. A drop of lube ran out of her and down her ass, making her shiver.

At that point, she slicked her dildo down with lube and made eye contact with the camera. She rubbed her lips together and decided to say, “Um…if you’re watching this, at this point ugh…I don’t do this sort of thing often. I’ve actually never filmed anything before so…enjoy? I, um, I’ll show you how tough this pussy is that you bought for me.”

Sara blushed horribly as she lifted her hips up and rolled back. She pointed her hole under the camera, with plenty of room for her hands and the dildo to do what they needed but Eleanor’s view would be as if she were directly on top of her. That thought made Sara’s pussy twitch, flexing already in impatience.

She pressed the dildo against herself, just rubbing at first and only teasing that she’d stuff herself with it. The tip grazed her hole, poking part of the way in and making her grunt but she still didn’t go through with it. With her free hand, she pulled apart her pussy, keeping the labia open and exposing the hole more clearly.

Her face must have been beat red when she slapped the tip of her dildo against her hole. She shivered and convulsed afterward, so sensitive to her own actions. When she did it again, she yelped, “Ah!”

Not able to help herself, she started to feed her pussy which sucked in every bit of length it was given. A low squelch sounded as the lube was pushed further into her and began to drip down around the sex toy. She huffed as the plastic balls met her ass, signaling there was nothing left to take.

When she started to pull it back, the realization fully soaked in that she was fucking herself on camera. Her legs stiffened and she moaned when she pushed back once more. All of her most private areas were exposed and Eleanor would see exactly what she looked like while her pussy was stuffed—again and again.

A whimper escaped her as her wrist started to work more quickly. Her hole was starving and the shame of what she was doing only seemed to make it hungrier. She wanted to fuck herself recklessly, obscenely—she wanted to show Eleanor something so dirty that she might drive to her apartment and take the dildo into her own hands.

Each pump came with a high pitched, “Ugh!” and a twitch of her hips. As much as her wrist worked, her hips worked just as hard, mashing the faux-cock into her at a blinding speed. “Ugh! Ugh! Ha! Haa! Ah! Fuck! Ughnnn hnnn…”

Her sustained whimper came just before she reached climax, hammering the dildo into her pussy with ear piercing slaps. If her neighbors were home, they definitely heard and there was no mistaking the sounds for anything else.

Sara’s hips continued to twitch and bounce up, against the dildo but her hand stopped thrusting. She pulled it out, letting Eleanor see the lube mixed with her arousal drip out of her and off of the toy. Her breaths came, ragged and harsh, but she was smiling in the end of the recording.

#my writing #erotica anthology #unedited #dont look at me like that

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j-graysonlibrary · 7 months ago

Text

Tommy the Teddie

Synopsis: An old teddy bear finds himself jealous of his owner’s partners and manifests into a sentient being that can show him what true love really looks like.

In the late nineties, Teddy sat on a shelf at a bargain grocery store and stared out at all the humans who passed him by. His big, glossy eyes were black and soulless, never blinking but always watching. He was two feet tall, or he would be if he was capable of standing up on his own, and he was covered in soft brown fur (well, a mixture of artificial materials, technically).

A big red ribbon tied around his throat, separating his head from his shoulders and, other than his size, it was the most eye-catching thing about him.

The other toys were far more enticing, even in Teddy’s own opinion. There were smaller, cuter bears with sweeter eyes and smiles that practically sold themselves. Then, there were the more peculiar animal stuffed toys like crocodiles and penguins that grabbed the attention of quirky kids and even some adults.

“Oh my goodness, look at this hammerhead shark!” A young woman said as she strolled past with her beau. They both stopped to glance over the display.

Buying a toy was clearly not something that was on their to-do list for the shopping trip but the young man smirked and pointed to the left of Tommy. “Look—an anteater.”

His girlfriend shook with excitement. “Oh! I want it!”

They ended up grabbing both the shark and the anteater, freeing up the space on the shelf and causing a few of the other toys to fall over. Tommy stayed upright but he could almost feel the cold draft on either side of him. Soon, he would be alone as all the other toys were taken to someone’s home.

If he was lucky, he’d be sent to some charity where a child in need would appreciate him. He tried to hold out hope for that possibility but, when he was at his lowest, he would imagine the bottom of the trash bin, being tossed into a dump truck, and taken to a landfill.

Had Tommy been capable of fear, he would have lost himself in it.

The store lights turned off for the day and silence blanketed the store. Perhaps the other toys had their versions of dreams but Tommy stayed wide awake, contemplating his existence. He allowed himself to fantasize about the perfect child walking down the aisle, eyes ablaze with joy and wonder, running right up to him and pointing with insistence in their voice.

“Mommy, I want him!” they’d shout, tugging on their mother’s sleeve.

Although a little exasperated, the mother would check Tommy’s price, see that he was actually a deal, and then she’d deflate with a smile. “Oh, alright…I guess you can have one early birthday present.”

Tommy’s spirit soared in the imaginary scenario as he was pulled off of the shelf and placed inside of the cart. The child climbed in with him, hugging around his neck, rattling on about all the adventures they would go on together. On the ride home, Tommy was fastened into the car seat beside his new best friend and his head was angled in such a way that he could watch the scenery pass him by from the window.

Tress flew past and the wide, blue sky was only obscured by puffy clouds that, strangely, were all shaped like bears. Even his new best friend noticed, leaning over him to shout, “That cloud looks like you, Tommy!”

Their mother chuckled under her breath as she drove them home to a beautiful two story house with a wrought iron fence around it. The rooms were massive, spotless, and the kid’s room was packed with toys that were each tended to with love and care.

Then, the lights for the store came back on and Tommy realized he was still on the shelf. His head felt heavy and it dipped down to one side, forcing his gaze to the floor.

When people walked past, he held out no hope anymore. He barely listened to the conversations happening around him and a high-pitched buzzing echoed in his head.

“Can I…?” a voice cut through the noise, sounding rather close.

Against his better judgment, Tommy came to (though he was certain the child was asking about one of the other, better toys on the shelf). He could see, directly in front of him, a child with two missing teeth staring into his eyes and reaching up at him.

“You get one big purchase a month; are you sure you want to spend it on that?” Their mother asked.

Tommy was grabbed and pulled, falling into the frail little arms. “Yes!” The kid exclaimed and kept a hold on him for the rest of the trip through the grocery store.

While in line, their mother asked, “Have you thought of a name for him?”

In response, Tommy’s neck was squeezed tight. His child hummed for a long while in thought before, finally, naming him.

“Tommy.”

Just as Tommy was always Tommy even before he was named, Herc was always Herc. His name wasn’t Herc yet and wouldn’t be for years to come but his old name never suited him anyway.

Herc was around seven years old when he picked out Tommy and gave him a wonderful home and all of his love. They spent every moment together for that first year—playing tea party, school, and zoo keeper along with any other random games that Herc came up with.

On the second year, Tommy played with Herc less but he wasn’t wholly abandoned. Herc just started soccer and he had new toys that would take his attention away for a few weeks at a time. Then, he’d look over at Tommy and a bright big smile would spread across his face.

At nine years old, Herc mostly kept Tommy in his bed, snuggling with him when he slept but otherwise being too busy for him. That was fine, Tommy felt, as he was still needed and wanted in some capacity. Other toys had been thrown out or donated so he could be grateful that he was one of the few picked to stay.

When Herc turned ten, one of his soccer friends mentioned how “lame and childlike” having stuffed toys was. She even went on to say, “I stopped getting stuffed animals LAST YEAR. You’re in the double digits now; you have to act like it.”

Tommy watched, helpless, as the toys in the room were cleared out by a distraught and frustrated Herc. He removed everything he suspected was “baby-ish” from sight until his eyes landed on Tommy. His eyebrows furrowed and he reached forward, stopping midway.

When he backed away and left the room, dragging his black bag filled with other childhood belongings with him, Tommy was in two minds. He lamented the loss of his fellow toys but, more than that, he was thrilled to be spared. The way Herc looked at him told him everything he needed to know.

He was loved.

More than Herc wanted to fit in with his peers, he wanted to keep Tommy.

When the soccer team or even some girls from school came to visit, Tommy was stuffed into the closet but he was beginning to understand. It was easier that way and if hiding his existence around other people was what it took to stay in Herc’s life then it was well worth it, in his mind.

After all, when the other kids left and it was just the two of them again, Herc would carry him out the closet, smooth down his fur, and apologize.

“Sorry you had to go in the closet again, Tommy,” he mumbled and then kissed the top of his head.

If he could have, Tommy would have comforted him then. He wanted to let him know that he wasn’t hurt by the stay in the closet and that he would never blame Herc for anything. He’d hold him in his arms, kiss his head, and tell him that he loved him.

“I’ll spend some time with you to make it up,” Herc carried on, all by himself since Tommy couldn’t speak. He brought him back to the bed and laid down on him, allowing his head to poke to the side as if he needed to be able to breathe.

And, while he said he would be with Tommy for a time, Herc still pulled out his cell phone and mostly focused on that. Tommy couldn’t see what he was doing on there but he heard a chuckle occasionally and he could feel Herc’s belly jiggling in more silent laughs.

All that mattered was that he was having a good time so Tommy was more than fine spending the afternoon in such a way.

Herc gulped suddenly and grabbed at Tommy with his free hand. His eyes remained glued to his screen while he pushed Tommy down, further and further until his head was pressed up against his hips. His curiosity piqued as Herc rubbed his body against him, holding him in place so that his nose and snout were right between his legs.

It went on for a few seconds and, all the while, Herc breathed heavily. His movements became faster at the end, really ramming into Tommy’s face. If he were a real creature, Herc might have broken his nose with the force of his hips.

Once he was finished, Herc sighed out and then rolled over onto his back, a distant look in his eyes. He stayed that way for a few seconds before glancing to Tommy and frowning.

“…Sorry,” he whispered and brushed off the fur around Tommy’s face as if it was dirty.

That afternoon was the start of a very regular occurrence. Once if not twice a day, Herc would push Tommy down on the bed, on the floor, even against his desk and dresser a few times, and hump him for at least twenty seconds straight.

He was always silent and focused when he did it, keeping his eye on the door in case someone entered unexpectedly, but he’d lose himself in the last stage of the process.

There were no other stuffed animals besides Tommy. Well, Herc did try with the few others that had survived the purge but none of them were satisfactory. Tommy watched him shove a polar bear plush between his legs and grind against it a few times before he huffed and sat back up again.

Wordlessly, he yanked Tommy from his bed to replace the polar bear. He folded Tommy in half, giving himself extra cushion, and he rubbed against him with a pleased sigh.

All through puberty, that was Tommy’s true purpose though the frequency of the occasions did lessen as Herc entered high school. He cut his hair short, against his parents’ wishes and began to wear baggier clothes that hid his figure. He stopped wearing makeup and began to talk in a deeper voice, self imposed and practiced behind closed doors.

Tommy heard it all as he was Herc’s closest confidant. Through the tears, the confusion, and the worry, his stuffed bear was there for him.

At fifteen, Herc had realized he wasn’t a girl. He talked to his parents, getting scolded and threatened, and the few friends that he told wound up turning their backs on him. It wasn’t as if he could help it—Tommy had seen him, firsthand, try to be like the other girls his age and he saw how much he wanted to belong with them.

But it wasn’t him.

He was Herc and he had to rename himself—remake himself. As soon as he could, he began to work part-time jobs and he saved his money, bit by bit. That way, when he turned eighteen, he could flee his parents’ house and find a place of his own where he could be free.

The crappy apartment he found was downtown in the next city over and it was too small to bring even half of what he had in his room. He packed his favorite clothes, his favorite CDs, games, and DVDs as well as one gaming console that he felt he couldn’t live without.

Then, he glanced to Tommy and yanked him close.

“You’re coming with me.”

The change in scenery was startling, Tommy could admit, but he was happy to be sharing the space with Herc. He was sat on top of a wardrobe that overlooked the bedroom (though he could also see the living room and kitchen past the short, make-shift dividers in the loft).

Pipes ran along the ceiling and the light fixtures had no coverings—they were simply bare bulbs, flickering and hissing nonstop. Every few weeks, there were issues with the plumbing and the shower could only keep hot water for five minutes, maximum. The upstairs neighbors were loud and the downstairs neighbors were even louder since their voices tended to carry through the vents.

Each time Herc exited or entered the front door, he’d have to put his weight behind his shoulders and really push and the entire unit would shake afterward.

All in all, it was a terrible place to live but Tommy had never seen Herc look happier. Sure, he had some hard days at work and would come home with tears in his eyes but he was still being true to himself and living as who he really was.

His hormone medication was where most of his money went, aside from rent, and the changes it caused his body were fascinating. Tommy watched him transform before his very eyes—one day he was a round-faced and shy young person who, at best, would be mistaken as a tomboy and then, in just the span of a few months, he was short boy with soft hair and faint stubble. He even started to smell different, Tommy noticed.

People were drawn to him too. Herc brought home a man that he met through work and they sat on the bed together to watch a movie on Herc’s laptop. It was nice to see him with a friend he truly liked, Tommy thought, and then immediately found himself stunned.

The man slipped his hand between Herc’s legs and rubbed up and down before leaning in and kissing the side of his neck. Herc, strangely, bit down on his lip and leaned into the touch. He tossed the laptop to the side and, as though that were an open invitation, the man yanked Herc’s top off.

His breasts, speckled by dark hairs, were on the smaller side but the man still groped and massaged them with delight. He rubbed over his nipples, getting a moan from Herc.

Then, they were kissing—furiously, passionately. Tommy had never seen Herc kiss before but something about the scene told him that it couldn’t be his first time.

A sick and heavy feeling settled in his gut as the two undressed the rest of the way.

The man jammed his fingers into Herc, grinning while he pumped. “Sure you want to get rid of this one day? Doesn’t it feel good?”

Herc threw his head back and forth. “A dick will feel good too…” he moaned.

His “friend” started to toy with his nipples again, posing the same question. “And these? You’ll just cut them off?”

“I know what I want, Derek,” Herc huffed, “I thought you understood that.”

“Sure but…” Derek trailed off, leading his lips to Herc’s chest. He nibbled and sucked at his nipples, trying to prove his point. He mumbled against his skin, “You like that, right?”

“I’ll still have nipples,” Herc pointed out but then gasped when Derek began to thrust his fingers faster.

“Okay but I think you’ll miss this. Look at how wet you are!” He leaned down just far enough to spit on Herc’s pussy, allowing him to move with greater ease.

Tommy kept his eyes on Herc as he rolled his hips to meet the sensations, groaning and closing his eyes in bliss. He no longer argued and, at his climax he even called out, “Derek!”

It was more than a little upsetting, especially when the man kissed Herc and told him he, “Had a beautiful cunt.”

The sentiment seemed to be shared with all of the men Herc brought home, into his bed. Derek returned a few times but, after him, there was Brad, Randy, Peter, Louis, and Doug. Every single one of them licked, sucked, and fucked Herc’s pussy, lamenting it’s potential loss.

Peter, at least, helped Herc pay for his double mastectomy and was in the apartment to tend to him. Tommy would have gladly taken his place and done a much better job but, out of all the terrible men who had stepped foot inside, he supposed Peter was the least offensive.

Herc grew his hair out, tended to go clean-shaven, and wore androgynous attire but didn’t hide the fact that his chest was flat. He loved low cut shirts or just leaving button-up tops only buttoned half-way He had yet to save up for a phalloplasty but Tommy knew, better than anyone, the pros and cons of the surgery.

The list that Herc had made was read out to him. Pros: he’d have a dick, which he always wanted and he would also be able to stand up to pee, not to mention pee in the woods more easily if there was ever, really a need. Cons: the cost, the recovery time, the pain, and the possibility he would be unhappy with either his size or the overall look of the penis.

It wasn’t something he could undo so he considered if carefully but the financial barrier was really the biggest deterrent. After all, it had been a few years and they were still in the little apartment with no hopes of leaving.

Herc’s current boyfriend, John, always turned his nose up when he entered the space. He was much better off and paid for most of their dates, but he never asked Herc to move in with him nor did he offer to help pay for his future surgeries.

The conversation was skirted around every time he was over but, like all of Herc’s other boyfriends, John liked his lower half more than he liked him. The way he looked at Herc’s pussy and sucked on his testosterone infused clit made Tommy want to throttle him. It was as if he was only with Herc just because of his body—the foreignness of it.

Frankly, Tommy wasn’t sure how many more times he could stomach watching some man with an obvious fetish hump his best friend with zero intent to stay with him or love him.

It was infuriating! He wished he could speak up and tell Herc that he deserved more! Better! He wished he could hold onto him and give him everything he needed! If it was possible, he’d even find a job and he’d pay for whatever he could out of his own pocket.

Sometimes, it almost looked like Herc was aware of how bad the men in his life were. As sheets of rain bombarded the window, he bowed his head with a heavy heart. Once again, John had come up with some excuse at the last second to avoid coming over.

Herc set his phone onto his nightstand and rolled onto his stomach in his bed, covering his head with a pillow. He was crying, Tommy could guess, and it made his rage toward John intensify. Worst of all, he knew without a shadow of a doubt, that whenever John did come back, Herc would accept whatever excuse he had and forgive him. Tommy would have to watch them fuck, unable to do anything.

Lightning flashed and thunder shook the building.

The place where Tommy’s soul would be ached and he couldn’t stop thinking about what he wished he could do. His paws tingled and the fabric that constituted his body began to stretch and pull. For the first time in his life, he blinked and, as much as that startled him, being able to move his arms startled him even more.

He slipped off of the top of the wardrobe and hit the floor with a thud, alerting Herc. Though he wasn’t quite ready to be seen, still confused by what was happening himself, he had to roll with it as his best friend turned around and sat up.

Herc’s jaw fell open and he lifted a hand before his face. “Wha…what the…? Am I dreaming? Did I fall asleep?”

Since so much else was changing and shifting, Tommy tried his hand at speech, “Herc,” he said with a deep, raspy voice. It fit the voice he heard inside of his own head well enough so there was no adjustment on his part but it was clear the tone was not, at all, what Herc expected.

“Oh my God, why do you sound like that?” he asked and then added the more important part after, “Wait, why are you talking!?”

“I tried hard,” Tommy explained, stepping closer, Moving his body was still strange and it took some concentration but he was learning fast. “I always wanted to speak to you…and now…I can. I don’t know how it’s possible either but…”

Herc’s brows shot up and he couldn’t close his mouth. His eyes traveled over the new and improved teddy bear until they landed on his lower half. Then, he shrieked and pointed, “What is that?!”

Tommy followed his gaze and saw what he meant pretty quickly. It was impossible to miss—a large, bright red cock hung out from his fur. “Oh…” Tommy tapped it with curiosity and then jerked his hand away. The sensation was unlike anything he’d ever felt—sharp and poignant, almost painful. He sucked in air through his teeth, just then realizing that he had teeth at all.

“Wha…you…” Herc visibly gulped and then started to chuckle. “I see…it has to be a dream. Or I’ve finally lost it. What comes next? I’m guessing with that huge hog looking at me, we’re going to bone?”

He hadn’t even considered that, mostly because he wasn’t aware he’d ever be able to magically grow a penis in the first place. But, now that it had been said, Tommy knew that he definitely wanted to.

With a slight nod, he said, “I can treat you better than all those stupid men you date.”

To his surprise and delight, Herc laughed. “Well, of course you can. You know me far better—you were my first boyfriend after all.”

“I was?” Tommy asked, unaware.

“Yeah, remember how I used to dry hump you all the time?” Herc hooked his thumbs under the band of his shorts and pulled them and his underwear down. He then crawled closer on his knees and wrapped his hands around the big red member. “Oooh, it’s warm. I don’t know why but I was expecting cold plastic.”

Tommy could hardly believe it. Herc’s smooth palms were caressing him, teasing him. He breathed in shakily and tried to speak, “Herc I…”

“Shhh,” his friend stopped him and then flicked the tip of his cock with his thumb. “Come here; make me feel better like you used to.”

Whatever self restraint Tommy might have had was ripped away. He pushed Herc onto his back, getting a surprised, “Oh!” in return but he didn’t let that slow him down. With his squishy paw-pads, he gripped Herc’s thighs and pushed them up and to the side. He’d seen how Herc liked to be fucked and, without realizing it, he’d been studying those long nights in the bedroom.

With his cock, he rutted against Herc’s lips and into his clit, putting pressure at the end of his thrusts especially. On just the first stroke, Herc whimpered and looked to him with half-lidded eyes.

“Oh, Tommy,” he huffed and then whined again when Tommy rubbed against him a second time. His hips curled up to meet him and he breathed out, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

Tommy never thought that pillow talk would be aimed at him but hearing it put a fire in his heart and, even more so, in his loins. He couldn’t hold back anymore and he pushed his tip into Herc’s hole, almost just to hear him grunt and watch him squirm. As many times as his cunt had been pounded, the initial intrusion still hit some resistance.

The tightness of him wrapped around his tip, almost barring him from entry, so Tommy pulled back and tried again. Each attempt had Herc throwing his head back or biting down on his lip, waiting and wanting more. While it felt almost wrong to push on with such an unyielding wall before him, Tommy fed more of his erection into his friend.

Once he hit a certain depth, he felt the muscles relax around him and he was able to slide over halfway inside. His cock twitched terribly, wanting to rut and pump like mad but he wouldn’t last five seconds at that rate. As much as Tommy wanted to fill Herc with his love, in whatever form that came in, he also wanted Herc to be impressed by his skill.

Sure, he’d never had a penis before twenty minutes ago but it would be too embarrassing to cum so soon.

So he slipped back out and ran his red, slick member against Herc’s clit again. He was hard too, and the contact made him swell up even more.

“Ha…ah…” With each stroke, Herc threw his hips up, seeking friction.

Tommy entered him again, shallowly, then pulled out. Once more, he just stuffed half of his length inside and then retracted, causing Herc to whimper.

“Come on,” he gasped and began to pull at Tommy, holding his big, fuzzy shoulders with an iron grip. “Put your cock in me. Fill me up and fuck me, Tommy; stop messing around.”

“Herc,” he responded in a huff and dipped a little further in, thrusting back and forth but no longer pulling all the way out. That was, at least, more of what his friend had in mind because he moaned fiercely. Tommy went further, rocking his hips in a smooth motion.

“Yeah?” Herc asked, meeting his eyes.

“Herc I…” Tommy pumped slowly, filled with electrical shocks each time. It was difficult to focus but he felt he had to say, “I love you, Herc. I’ve always wanted to be there for you. I’m so happy right now.”

Even while biting down on his lip, Herc could hardly contain the whimper that squeezed from his throat. “Oh yeah?” his voice pinched at the end. “You’re making me happy too, Tommy. Your cock feels incredible, fucking my little hole like that.”

A full body shudder overcame him and Tommy couldn’t keep his hips from swinging harder. He was blessed with a loud shout from Herc and then a follow-up grunt each time he pumped in.

“Yes, yes!” Herc breathed raggedly, twisting his fingers into his teddy bear’s fur. He arched his back and hummed in delight as Tommy started to slam into him. “Ooooh yeah, fuck me, Tommy. Fuck me good—ah! Ah! Aaah! Ugh!”

His cock was on fire, moving the rest of him as if it held all of his brains. Deeper, harder, and faster, it was all Tommy knew and Herc’s cries acted as a guidepost. His best friend’s insides squeezed him deliciously and he thought to himself that he could live the rest of his life this way—mindlessly humping Herc and listening to him cry out in pleasure.

As he came close to his end, his thrusts became shorter but harder and quicker, practically beating Herc from the inside but Herc didn’t seem to mind. In fact, his legs shot out on either side of Tommy and he held a sustained scream as his own hips jetted forward, again and again.

“Ah! AH! FUCK ME! OH FUCK ME, TOMMY!” Herc circled his arms all the way around Tommy’s neck and squirted all over his torso, soaking his fur. It was fair, however, as Tommy unloaded inside of him.

He wasn’t sure if it was human-like cum or not but something hot and wet ejaculated from his cock and dripped out the sides of Herc’s hole, even with Tommy still inside.

Herc’s legs continued to twitch and tremble as Tommy slowly thrust a few more times, grunting out each breath. “Oh fuck…” Herc sighed and then gulped, struggling to catch his breath.

“How do you feel?” Tommy asked and finally pulled out of him though he was tempted to jump right back in when his friend responded to him with a coy smile.

“Like I’m full of cum,” he said and pulled Tommy closer, licking over his muzzle and nose. His hot tongue reignited Tommy’s passions immediately.

“My cum,” Tommy noted.

“Yeah, your cum…somehow.” Herc petted the sides of his head and hummed. “I don’t think this is a dream anymore but I really don’t understand.”

“Do you regret what we did?”

“No,” he answered immediately, “Never. That was incredible—I could keep humping you like I’m eleven again.”

“Really?” Tommy perked up and pulled back, showing off his half-erect red dick.

Herc grinned and chuckled. “Roll onto your back, Tommy and I’ll fuck you like I used to.”

He’d get no complaints there, Tommy thought and did as he was told. Herc climbed onto his lap and ground against his cock, resurrecting it the rest of the way. It wasn’t long before he was guiding it inside of his pussy and sitting, fully, on him.

His bounces were wet and sloppy but Tommy held him still, taking a moment to rub his paw-pads against Herc’s nipples. Another addition that had come from nowhere was his claws. They weren’t all that long or sharp but he scratched them against his friend’s nipples as he rode him recklessly.

“Ughn!” Herc shivered furiously and began to fuck himself faster. “Do that again!”

As he slammed up and down, Tommy flicked, pinched, and scratched his nipples with his claws, drawing a little bit of blood after a while. But Herc was in a frenzy and didn’t mind the pain. In fact, he held Tommy’s paws to his chest and mashed his hips down on him.

Tommy didn’t last as long this time, blowing another load into him which leaked worse than before. Still, Herc thrust down again and again, almost as if he was trying to milk him with his hole.

He shivered as he came too, his eyes unfocused and far away. “Fuck…me…” he sighed and let Tommy’s cock pop out of him.

His pussy was sopping wet and Tommy couldn’t help but reach out to it, fondling and caressing. Herc moaned and leaned into the touch, burying his face into his fur.

“You like my pussy, Tommy?” he asked and rubbed circles into his chest, where his nipples might be if he had them.

Tommy spread the moisture to his asshole and put a little more pressure behind his paw. “I like whatever you have. Whatever you decide to keep or change. I’ll gladly make love to you however.”

Herc lifted himself up and, with glassy eyes, he said, “That’s very sweet. My ass probably isn’t quite prepared to take your huge meat though so…”

He brought his attention back to his pussy, making small circles with his paw pad. “What about here? Can you take my huge meat here again?”

“Already?” Herc laughed but then shrugged. “Fuck it; let’s go.”

Tommy took him from behind, slipping and sliding with no issue on account of both of their fluids still dripping in excess. He fucked his cum further into Herc’s cunt and the squelching sound slapped off of the walls, only broken up by the high, lewd howls of Herc himself.

“Oh, I’m going to regret this tomorrow but fucking POUND me! Don’t hold anything back, Tommy! Fuck me like your life depends on it.” Herc held onto the bed sheets in preparation before Tommy hammered in, giving him no break until they were both nearly over the moon again.

That was until a voice broke them apart. “What in the actual fuck?!”

Tommy was too close to finishing and Herc, too, was just about there but he responded at least. “John!” he shouted and then his voice cracked in a shriek.

John stood, horrified, to see his boyfriend be fucked by a life-sized stuffed bear. More specifically, he was horrified by the sight of the bear achieving orgasm while clutching onto his boyfriend’s hips and ass.

Herc breathed heavy and attempted to sit up, onto his knees, but he was still out of sorts. “John, hang on…”

“No, you hang on. I came over here to surprise you and I see this? Who’s under the suit? Why’d you message me if this was what you planned?”

Tommy couldn’t enjoy his afterglow as he was now faced with the man he hated most. “Herc,” he said, getting his friend’s attention. “You don’t need to explain anything to this guy. He stood you up, remember? You only need me.”

“But Tommy, I…” Herc met his eyes, guilty.

There was only one solution and Tommy regretted the suffering it might cause Herc but, while he had this form, he needed to do all that he could. With his lips pulled back and his teeth bared, Tommy attacked John. He clawed him to shreds and bit out his neck, all while Herc shouted behind him.

John, for his part, struggled to live but Tommy was more bear than toy now and a mere human could never get the upper hand. His blood soaked into the fur around Tommy’s mouth and paws.

“Why did you…?! Tommy! You just…you can’t just kill…!” Herc’s eyes were wide and his hands covered his mouth. “Tommy…”

He knew he would be upset at first but it was necessary. Tommy lifted his paws up. “Shhh, it’s okay. I will take care of everything.”

“What do you mean?”

“Stay here. Prepare your ass. I’ll be back in an hour.” Tommy dragged John out of the apartment in a blanket and he carried him down the street and to Herc’s car. Inside the small sedan, he secured on a hat and some sunglasses, hoping to make his bear features stand out less.

A few other drivers on the road did a double take but he just kept his eyes on the road with his destination in mind. It was a place he knew, in his heart, that he’d always end up in. How he got there and why was just wildly different than in all of his nightmares.

Tommy tossed John into a massive pile of trash in the landfill, knowing he’d never be found.

He turned around and rushed back to the apartment, avoiding detection along the way and entering to complete silence. His paw pads were heavy on the floor, making the wood creak under him with every step. “Herc?” he called out as he rounded the divider to the bedroom.

Herc lay supine with his knees bent upward and his asshole slick with lube. His eyes were also red and puffy and his chest was rising and falling with urgency.

“I see you prepared yourself…” Tommy walked closer.

“Yeah I…” Herc swallowed and met his gaze. “Look, John wasn’t the best person but you can’t just—”

“We shouldn’t talk about it,” he cut him off and climbed onto the bed. His paws went to his knees, pushing them apart. “Just know that I mean it when I say I love you, Herc. No one will ever love you like I do. They can’t.”

His friend’s eyes shined with unshed tears and his lip quivered. “Tommy…”

“Shhh,” he shushed him again and pressed the tip of his erection to his asshole. He used his paw to help push past the ring of muscle, initially resistant to his advances, and he slowly filled Herc in a way neither of them was used to.

Herc’s expression was almost comical—his eyes bugged and his mouth turned into a circle. “Oh!” he gasped and then winced. “Oh that’s…different…”

“This will be every night when you get your surgery,” Tommy told him and rocked his hips back and then forward, opening him up more and lavishing in the tight space that hugged him so well. He moaned and planted himself even deeper. “Yeah, I can get used to this.”

“I…I…ah!” Herc closed his eyes tight and tucked his lips in as Tommy pulled back only to slam in again. “You won’t…kill my other exes will you?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Tommy told him though he was tempted by the idea. He could get all the other men back and have each of them watch while he ravaged Herc better than they ever could. Then, he’d maul them to death too and have a second round of sex in victory. “You’re all mine now. All mine, Herc. All mine.”

Herc whimpered and finally got on his same wavelength. “All yours,” he breathed out and then cried, “All yours, Tommy!”

The steady pumping into his ass must have started to feel good for him too because his arms circled around his teddy bear’s neck and his legs, too, wrapped around his torso. Clinging to him as tightly as possible, Herc called out his name with every thrust and then transitioned to saying the one thing Tommy really wanted to hear.

“I love you! Oh fuck me, I love you so much!” Their bodies were so entwined that Tommy could hardly find the leverage to surge his hips back and forth so he’d switched to little, quick humps. The bed shook under the motion and Herc twitched and writhed. “Ha haaa ha! Fuck my hole, it’s yours! It’s only for you, Tommy! No one else…no one can fuck it like you can! Ah! You’re amazing! Your cock in incredible and—ugh! Ugh! H-huge! Ah, fuck, I love you!”

Tommy humped and huffed and bore down on him until the bed frame nearly snapped in two. If it had, he would have kept going into the floor, to the downstairs neighbors’ floor, and into the basement. The growl that came out of Tommy’s throat was something from a wild bear and Herc screamed not in fear but in euphoria.

His hips ground against Tommy, his ass pulling his cock in, trying to get him deeper than what was possible. Even after he sprayed out and came, he continued to bounce up, against him, searching for friction.

Tommy, too, kept pumping but it was slow and steady, pushing his cum deep inside of Herc. He wanted to constantly have him filled, stuffed, and begging for more but his stamina was, at last, hitting empty. His hips came to a stop but he kept his cock buried inside of him.

The next day, he’d be back on top of him and the day after that too.

Unlike Herc going through puberty, the time where Tommy lost interest would never come. He’d keep fucking him and fucking him until he was nothing but thread and stuffing.

#my writing #erotica anthology #unedited #dont look at me like that

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j-graysonlibrary · 7 months ago

Text

Eat Thy Flesh

Synopsis: A God makes humans and, in an effort to bring them closer to Him, he allows them to eat parts of his flesh and becomes addicted to the sensation.

In the beginning, there was only God and nothing else existed in the vast emptiness of the universe. He was all-powerful but also all-forgetful. Eternity was a lot to remember at any given point in time so He tended to focus on the present and, presently, all that He knew was that He was lonely.

Sure, the big ball of water, spinning in the black abyss was neat and He did enjoy looking at it, making tweaks and improvements, but something felt off—it was missing something vital, He just didn’t know what.

He pushed and pulled it closer to His light orb, heating and cooling the surface until some interesting side-effects took place. Atmosphere, land, and then rain formed before His eyes and He used those instances to judge where He should leave the ball of water.

Although, it was hardly just water anymore.

God wiggled His fingers over the globe and added specs of life. He couldn’t think of much, on the spot, so He made literal dots, floating in the oceans, and He watched them with glee. Only, after a few thousand years, they stopped being all that interesting and God took some time to rearrange the other giant balls He’d made.

None of them were as precious to Him as the one He called Earth so He always returned.

He’d add more creatures, more plants, and more little pieces of land that might give His creations somewhere to call home. The only downside was that His work went unnoticed and He, Himself, continued to go unseen.

As the creatures got bigger and became more advanced, He did try to appear before His creations, to spent time with them personally, but the dinosaurs and large insects didn’t seem to care. One of the beasts even attempted to eat Him!

Horrified and more than a little irate, God sent a meteor down onto His precious project as punishment, regretting it a mere second after the impact. He rested His head in His hands and groaned out, “Oh, what have I done?”

Those creatures did not know Him! They were not able to understand who He was or what He might mean to them! How could He expect them to?

God sighed out and left the world covered in ice while he struggled to let His own heart thaw. Something had to change—He was considering creating life on the other planets, just to bide his time and bring Himself some comfort but He had committed to Earth when he started this project, He was not about to go back on His word now.

Just because only a few things were thriving on his ball of water—now a ball of ice—didn’t mean that His eyes could wander.

He leered over Earth, running through countless ideas on how to continue. What new creatures could He create? What new landscapes? New flowers? New trees? He looked into His own, empty palms and the answer came to Him as though a bolt of lightning had escaped the atmosphere, shot backward into space, and struck Him through the heart.

Himself.

Monkeys and apes were already somewhat close, having begun to use tools and stand on their back legs, but if He reduced the hair on their bodies, gave them larger brains, and the ability to question life…

The first man He made looked identical to Him, only small, and the woman was even smaller. They had children, frolicked about naked in their garden, and ate the luscious fruit that God had provided for them. To test their thirst for knowledge and hunger for the truth, He left a tree in the center of the garden and warned them against approaching it.

“The fruit,” He said, “Will tell you the reason of your existence but this knowledge is too heavy and so you must not eat it.”

At first, His word alone was enough to keep the family away. They were in awe of Him and they did whatever He asked, knowing well that He was their creator—their God. Whenever He arrived, taller than the trees and blocking out the sun, they would bow to Him in reverence.

“How are my children today?” God asked as He came to check on them personally.

The two young boys played together until they noticed their parents prostrating themselves. Then, they quickly scuttled closer and copied them. Just as Adam and Eve followed the word of God, their children obeyed their parents.

“We are wonderful, my Lord God,” Adam said, humbled. He spoke in a voice that resembled His own and the similarity was always a bit jarring to hear but comforting at the same time.

“Good, I am glad.” God petted his firstborn on the top of his head. “I am proud of my sons…and my daughter.”

As Eve was often silent during His visits, He made sure to pay her some special attention and He petted her head as well so that she didn’t feel left out. She was doing a wonderful job, after all, and she not only served God but her husband as well.

It wasn’t something God had asked of Adam but it seemed he naturally had a leader’s spirit and only bowed his head to his Lord. In his home, he almost began to play the role of God, in some ways, and that did pique the real God’s interest.

If his wife and children did not obey him, they were punished. All went according to how Adam wanted and, especially when it came to Eve, he was ruthless.

He wanted more children, as any creature would, and he mounted his wife often—while they were talking, while she was preparing food, while the boys were around, even while she slept. Adam had only his instincts to guide him and God was forming His own opinion of the situation as it unfolded.

Eve usually enjoyed the intrusion but, more and more, she was becoming frustrated by Adam’s boorishness. He’d bend her over in front of the kids and hump her without a word of warning, causing the boys to tug at their own genitals or rut against each other—mimicking their parents.

God watched them all, a tightness building in His gut. Adam was the spitting image of Him so it was almost as if He was down there, wetting his cock and howling like an ape. It was strange—He had watched plenty of his creatures procreate without so much as blinking an eye but, now, there was an undeniable connection.

He had inserted Himself into the world, in a way He hadn’t been able to anticipate.

His eyebrow arched as Adam planted his seed inside of Eve and then crawled off of her. In a haze, he stumbled over, leaning on the tree of knowledge, and he plucked a low-hanging fruit. God watched as Adam’s teeth tore into the flesh and he drank in it’s juices, replenishing himself without thought.

Then, his eyes shot open at the realization of what he’d done.

Quickly, he shoved the fruit against Eve’s mouth as she still fought to catch her breath. She jerked away, almost choking on the juice, yet Adam managed to press the fruit into her hand, passing it over to her.

God descended, having His answer about mankind’s curiosity and then some. “Who dares to have eaten from the forbidden tree?” He boomed and the humans gathered around in terror.

He wasn’t sure why but they always trembled under his gaze and would almost never look at Him unless He specifically asked them to. Even then, the eye contact was strained and blurred by tears.

For this particular interaction, however, God decided to lean into their fears.

The children pushed their foreheads into the ground while Eve stared at her hands, horrified, knowing she could not prove her innocence. Not only would Adam speak for her but she had the juice on her lips and the half-eaten fruit in her grasp.

“My Lord God,” Adam began, wiping his own lips with the back of his hand. “I tried to reason with her but Eve was tempted. She ate the fruit and even tried to force me to!”

Apparently, Adam had not yet understood the fact that God could see everything, at all times, no matter what. He shook his head back and forth and softly clicked His tongue. Animals were typically selfish creatures and indulgent as well. Nothing about Adam’s behavior was surprising but God had still hoped for better when he created the man in His image.

Still, He could not exactly fault him for his actions.

“Adam, your Lord God can see all, hear all, and He knows all. Eve was not the one to eat the fruit. It was you and you alone. If you insist on punishing your wife, you must leave the garden.”

He could not be clearer and yet Adam refused to listen, “But it was her! She found a, ugh, a talking….” his eyes went to the ground and he caught sight of a snake, inspiring him to continue, “…a talking serpent! It told her that she would know everything there was to know and she always wants more power than me so she ate the fruit!”

“I believe you told me that she attempted to share it with you?” God recalled. “Why would she, if she always wishes to be better?”

Adam’s face paled and he struggled for words. To God’s utmost surprise, Eve cleared her throat. “My Lord God,” she said and lifted her face up to look at him directly. “I did eat the fruit. I am so sorry.”

Humans, as it turned out, were far more complicated that God ever expected them to be and wholly unpredictable. Even if He planned, to the last detail, the events of their lives, they would always manage to shock Him somewhere down the line.

Adam and Eve were released from the garden and God made many more of them, sprinkling them all over and testing their intelligence, their wills, and their endurance of faith in him. Some people He left entirely alone with no interference and He studied them against those he often showed Himself to.

In the parts of the globe where God never visited, people created their own versions of Him. They saw Him in the sun, the stars, and the forces of nature. They made their own rituals to appease Him and functioned, relatively, the same as those who were chosen to be bathed in His light.

No matter the exposure to him, humans gathered together, collecting in key locations and forming community—creating civilization. They learned to cultivate their own food, they used animals for meat, and they invented currency, art, and societal rules.

For those who saw God often, everything they made was intrinsically tied to Him. Their civilization’s laws were “God’s word” and their art was in honor of Him. If He’d asked, they would have killed their own children to appease Him.

He didn’t ask—well, except for the one time where He was mortified by the results…

Regardless, there was a deep fascination for Him but also a new curiosity was beginning to fester in the back of His mind. He knew his people well and He knew they were self sufficient and resourceful, even without His interference but those under His direct care were not notably better off.

He had given them tips, nudges in the right direction, but they were still neck and neck with the people on the other side of the globe. In some cases, those societies were edging ahead.

So what more could God do for his wonderful creations? Other than his time, his knowledge, and his blessing, what else was there to give?

As He watched his chosen people, He opened His mind to the possibilities. A husband and wife lie in bed together while their five children slept in the next room. One of the children was ill and the prognosis was bleak so the couple discussed, in hushed whispers, the possible need to keep reproducing.

More times than He could possibly count, God watched his people mate. There were so many different variants of the same act now as time and progress had made them more creative. Yet, when it came down to it, one of the most popular ways was still the old fashioned one which birthed the first two sons in the Garden of Eden.

The wife spread her legs while her husband pumped into her. They kept quiet, knowing the kids might overhear, but the soft slaps of their flesh meeting was all their oldest could focus on. She knew what it meant and simply turned in her bed and closed her ears.

As the couple came close to orgasm, God could feel the tension as if He was there with them. A sense of release came over Him as well when the husband grunted and spilled into his wife.

In a few months, a baby would grow and develop in her womb and God wondered, in His own afterglow, if He could do the same. He considered having His own child deeply, letting Him live in His beautiful world and bridge the gap that still existed between Him and His people.

But the more He thought about it, the more He started to worry about the possible side effects. Unless He constantly followed His son around, proving his legitimacy, some of the church officials might take issue. And those types were fanatical, even in the face of God Himself.

If His son was cast aside, hurt, or even killed, God could not get closer—in fact, it would push Him farther away.

No, whatever He had to do, He would do on His own.

In the mountains north of his favorite city, He descended and rested over the foothills. A shrine had been built near the half-way point of the mountain so He knew that worshippers would encounter Him sooner rather than later. He took in a deep breath of the crisp, delicious air and simply waited.

A young man approached, holding a lamb in his arms. He hummed a song to himself or, maybe, in order to calm the lamb but the second he saw God’s massive form blocking the path to the shrine, he gasped and dropped his sacrifice. The little lamb scuttled away, back toward the city.

“My God!” the young man exclaimed and then bent down on his knee.

While God had appeared before people many times in this area, He couldn’t be sure it had happened all that recently. Maybe even a hundred years had gone by—He’d been too busy to really say.

“Hello, my child,” He responded and hoisted Himself up by His elbows. The grooves in the foothills were at just the right height to allow Him to lounge while also keeping His head up.

“I…I am humbled to receive this vision! What does my Lord wish of me?”

Like Adam and Eve, the people remained frightened of Him in some way or another. They tended to attribute natural disasters to His anger or disappointment in them. It wasn’t true—the Earth simply needed to expunge it’s energies through storms, earthquakes, and volcanic eruptions and preventing them would have worse effects—but no matter how many times He said so, the people remained convinced.

God looked into this young man’s head and saw everything about his life. He was a farmer and a dedicated believer—his name was Steve.

“Steve,” He said his name, making the hair on the back of the human’s neck stand at attention, “I have a request of you, if you would just come closer.”

The man jumped to his feet and approached God’s large body. He stopped by his thighs, nearly close enough to touch but, of course, he held back on the impulse.

God would have liked it though and, in fact, He held his hand out, closer to Steve, and requested, “Touch me.”

Steve reached forward, his arm trembling in both excitement and terror. When his little fingers made contact with God’s thumb, a pleasant sensation ran through Him. He wondered if Steve was feeling the same or if he was still too overwhelmed to know.

“You feel…” Steve began but then trailed off.

“Go on,” God encouraged.

“Like a person.” The revelation was, somehow, startling to him. Even if it was common knowledge that men were created in God’s image, this was still unexpected.

“Yes. Of course.” God wasn’t sure His next request would go over as well if this, already, was blowing Steve away. He tried regardless, “Steve, inside of me there is power, enlightenment, and unyielding love. I would ask you to take a bite from my thumb.”

Steve stepped backward, his mouth agape. “My Lord God! How could I…?” Then, with more certainty, he asked, “Is this a test?”

God might have rolled His eyes in the moment but then He thought about the man’s concerns for longer and realized that they were valid. He had given His people plenty of tests but that was more in the beginning, when He was still working out the kinks and learning.

Now, He had fewer need for games.

“No,” He said, “I am genuinely asking. It is time, I feel, for my people to grow closer to me. With my flesh, you will gain a small fraction of Godhood yourself. It would please me to nurture my children into the best versions of themselves that they can possibly be.”

Steve took no further convincing, thankfully, but he did hesitate with his first bite. His small hands grabbed at the pad of God’s thumb and he leaned forward with his mouth. Unsure of how to approach, Steve tried a few different angles before finally committing.

His teeth pierced God’s flesh, tearing through and pulling. The meat tore and snapped off, barely making a dent in his huge form, overall, but sending wave after wave of not pain but pleasure. God leaned His head back and groaned, impacted greatly by just the small bite.

It wasn’t dissimilar to watching his people mate, strangely enough, but the effect felt more direct, more personal. It was on His body, after all, and it had been done to Him specifically. As He breathed in deeply and with restrained strength, He felt a bizarre new sensation between His legs.

Leaning back up again, He saw the projection that half of His people sported when they were prepared to mate. His penis, never before used, sprang to life at just that little nibble from Steve.

The human swallowed his mouthful and either didn’t notice the towering erection or he couldn’t distinguish it from the other parts of God’s body with how tall he was anyway. He met his God’s eyes and no longer held fear in his gaze.

“I feel incredible…” he whispered, his voice laced with joy.

“So do I,” God admitted. “Tell your family, your friends, your community. I will be here, at this mountain, and my flesh is yours for the taking.”

“Anyone is welcome?” Steve asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Yes. The more, the better. I will feed every malnourished soul in the city.”

Steve was a wonderful listener and, while he had few friends and no family, he still managed to gather a group of people to follow him to the mountain. They were nervous and unsure but curious too. The second they spotted God, clear as day in the foothills, their attitudes shifted.

“There is no need to bow and praise,” Steve told the group of six. “God is understanding of your feelings. He knows you well.”

“Thank you, Steve,” God said, grateful to him.

The young man also led his followers to where they could easily bite off a chunk of flesh and he assured them, over and over, that it was alright. He, himself, took another bite to prove it and God held back a moan.

One by one, the others joined in. His hands, His legs, His feet—all places that were easily accessible from the ground were pinched and gnawed at. The more He was eaten, the harder He became. No one took more than two bites, however, as the divinity that entered them had them reeling, needing a break.

With his belly fully of God’s flesh, Steve checked on his followers and ensured they were still present and then he asked them if they were as satisfied and enlightened as he.

“I am closer to Him; you were right,” one of the men said, reaching out to cup Steve’s face between his hands. At the touch, the two pulled even closer as if suddenly instilled with new hunger.

Their lips collided, only momentarily, before they were pulling at each other’s robes, bringing bare skin to the light of the sun. The other men watched, curious at first, before they, too, started to disrobe and fondle themselves and each other.

God’s erection cast a shadow over the frenzy, influencing the push and pull between men. No one seemed to want to be on the receiving end so they struggled against each other, groaning, grasping, and even biting (though not to the same level as when they ate God).

Steve yelped as a wet finger pierced his body, marking him for the taking. The man he’d convinced to follow him to the mountain, to become one with God, was now opening him up with the intent of sliding his cock inside.

No one spoke, they only gasped and huffed until someone won out, dominating their partner and penetrating them. Each of the men took their loss differently, some warming up to their position while others continued to fight in vain. Steve was one of those who wanted to trade places but the man who pinned him down was twice as large and with more defined muscles.

His ass was pounded from behind while his hair was pulled—his partner having intertwined his fingers deep in his amber locks. Steve’s head reared back, forcing him to look up at God as he was entered again and again. Making eye contact with Him, it seemed, helped to ease the sting of his loss and he began to moan, toward the end.

God could feel the euphoria emitting from the group and each orgasm washed over Him as well as it did the participants. They spilled their seed in each other or on the ground. Steve, in particular was dripping semen from his ass well after he was dismounted and left in peace.

A glistening bead of cum wept from the tip of God’s cock but it didn’t relieve Him of the tension He felt deep in His soul. He wanted to be devoured more and He wanted his people to fuck each other closer to Him, against Him, on Him, even.

So, He told Steve and in the coming days, entire crowds were gathering around God to get their fill.

More and more, the people ate Him and then ravaged each other. They climbed up His body, latching their mouths onto His thighs, His stomach, and His chest. Steve even hoisted himself up as high as he could in order to take a bite out the tip of His nipple.

It was heavenly and, afterward, Steve fornicated with another man on God’s chest. He managed to win the fight for dominance that time and he lifted his partner’s legs into the air, holding his ankles as he pumped his hips. Like before, Steve met God’s eyes and he maintained contact while he fucked.

God’s erection ached but remained untouched. None of His people, even in their intoxication, were venturing near the flesh tower. Even if they did, He wasn’t sure their touch would be enough to satisfy Him. He was simply too big and they were too small.

A few bites from it might have carried Him to a place nearer to an orgasm but He held out hope that He’d actually cum.

The way His people rutted against each other, into each other’s holes, mouths, and hands, able to shoot out their passion and release themselves was enviable. God dreamed of showering the mountains and the city in his cum and how good it might feel for those sweet few seconds.

It certainly appeared to be the most blissful moments of the humans’ lives—they chased it like wild animals when they gathered on top of him.

A few moons passed Him by as he lounged on the mountainside and indulged himself and His people. Every time He saw Steve, he was with more followers. Soon, almost the entire city was making the trip north.

Except, the church resisted. The head priest was adamant about the sins of flesh eating, no matter what God had to say. Steve and the others would bring back His word, verbatim, but the head-priest was stubborn and sure that they were all using His name in order to do what they pleased, without recourse.

“Bring him to me,” God requested, wanting nothing more than his greatest believers to get a taste of Him. Once they did eat Him, they would understand Him better.

So Steve returned with a massive crowd and the nay-sayers. The head priest, Winston, took in the sight of God with awe and terror in equal measures. He nearly dropped his scepter as he walked forward in disbelief.

“It is Him…He is here with us…” Winston whispered and Steve rushed up beside him.

“I told you so. And all else that I spoke of was also the truth. Right, God?” He met His eyes with an eager smile.

“Yes,” God responded, coaxing Winston closer with his finger. “Come and feast, my child. I have plenty to spare and I desire it.”

The pieces of Him and His divinity that sat in the bellies of all of His people rang out, connecting with each other and He could not wait for Winston to be a part of it. Just knowing that He would be inside of the head priest, forever, breathed life into his genitals.

Unlike the others, Winston instantly took note of His erection. “E—even if God asks for us to eat Him, we should not! It is unholy and we cannot hope to bring ourselves closer to Him in such a way. Furthermore…having orgies on His body is certainly an abomination! I will not tolerate it!”

He was indignant but his eyes continued to drift over to the towering shaft, growing larger and larger—stiffer and stiffer. God could not help it. He knew he would be inside of Winston soon enough which was all He needed in order to get hard but, on top of that, He imagined that the man would join in with the orgies.

Maybe with hesitance and maybe even with fear but his body would be exposed, groped, and ultimately fucked and God wanted to see it happen.

“Winston,” He spoke calmly, “Am I your God or not?”

The head priest bowed his head, sucking in a sharp breath, “Of course you are my God, my Lord.”

“Then you would disobey your God?”

All of the other humans knew that His stern words were just for show and that He would not seriously chastise or punish Winston. They knew because the pieces of God that were in them told them so. But Winston didn’t have that luxury yet and so he worried that he would be smote, right there on the spot.

“No! Please, no! I would never disobey you, my Lord God! I deeply apologize for any offense. This ritual, however, is…well, it seems terribly unholy!”

“How could anything I approve be unholy?” God questioned and Winston began to tremble.

“Yes, of course. I am a fool, surely, and I shall be silent. Whatever your wish is, God, I am at your beck and call. Ask it and I will do all that I can to see it through.”

Steve watched the head priest with a sly smile but, at his declaration, he glanced to God, expectantly.

He probably already knew what was to come but God asked him anyway, “Steve, lead Winston to my…tower. Have him feast from the most virile of flesh so that he may understand quickly.”

The others parted, making way for Steve and Winston. Steve pulled the head priest by the hand, removing his scepter and taking him up the steps that had been constructed around God’s hips to make the trip on top of him easier. From there, it was as simple as walking up to his erection.

To keep him in view, Steve had Winston stand to the side of it, in a forest of dark pubic hairs. He was momentarily distracted by how tall the bush was and how thick the individual hairs were. One he held in his hands, stroking against it as if petting some huge wild animal.

Winston, on the other hand, paled at the sight of the shaft before him. He clearly had no idea where to begin and his previous trepidation remained, it was only glossed over because this was what God wanted. And, as a priest, he did have to do whatever God said even if it felt counter-intuitive.

“Go on,” God urged, “Take your first bite.”

Steve released the pube and moved closer, acting as moral support for the head priest. He rested his hand on the small of his back and gently pushed.

“It’s alright,” he said, “It doesn’t have to be much at first. As long as you eat a little, everything will make sense soon.”

With a faint nod, Winston held onto the flesh before him. He was all too aware that it was a massive penis before him and his anxiety bled into every move closer. He opened his mouth and pressed his lips along the shaft, taking a long few moments to himself before biting down.

God sighed out in pleasure as the head priest committed and tore the meat away. Steve rubbed along his back and congratulated him softly while the man chewed, chewed some more, and then swallowed.

Blood tickled down over his lips and his eyes widened with understanding. A light turned on, deep within, and Winston nearly cried.

“I see…I feel you in me, Lord. I feel…” he gulped and then closed his eyes tightly. “I know now what you think of us. How you love us so. This is a pleasure. The greatest pleasure imaginable!”

“Now you understand,” Steve muttered, rubbing along his back.

“Yes…yes!” Winston laughed in delight. “I could gorge myself! I could…I could…!”

As he fought for words, God gave him permission. “Go ahead.” He then turned to look at the crowd all around His body. “In fact, all of you may dig in. Eat your fill, enjoy yourselves!”

There was no further need for instruction as the people dove forward with abandon, finding purchase where they could. A few had the patience to climb the steps to walk upon His body, traveling down His legs and hunkering in place.

God enjoyed each and every bite but his focus was still on Winston and Steve. The head priest licked and nibbled at His cock while Steve rubbed up and down his sides and caressed his ass through his robes. He kissed along his neck and faced no repercussion for his actions.

Not even when Steve bunched his robe up, lifting it over his head, did Winston stop to ask why. He continued to take small bites, humming in the back of his throat and taking his time chewing. Steve cupped his chest, pressing his fingers against his already erect nipples, getting a moan out of him.

He peppered his shoulders with kisses while he continued to play with his chest but his hips also started to press against Winston. His cock slapped up against his ass, rubbing against the cheek while Winston took another bite from God’s cock.

His head was probably swimming with divinity—God could just about feel the intensity. Part of Him almost wanted to warn Winston to stop or to slow down but the sensation of having his teeth rip into his shaft, over and over, was just too good to resist.

Unlike the majority of the people who tore into God with a certain degree of violence—ripping and tearing like wolves over a carcass—there was a tenderness to Winston. He kissed His erection before each bite, opening his mouth and suckling as if he was attempting to service him. His arms stretched out on either side, holding on with everything he had while he licked and bit in turn.

Others were beginning to turn to sex, climbing on top of each other to reach the next level of their Godhood, howling to the heavens. Steve was getting there too, just a little more slowly as Winston’s approach was perhaps affecting him.

He sucked on his own fingers before setting them to the priest’s hole, teasing for a long while and continuously pulling back to add more spit. God’s blood, for what it was worth, had been a true and tested lubricant as well so Steve stuck his fingers into one of Winston’s bite marks and collected as much as he could.

With a healthy glob, he slid two fingers into Winston who only opened his mouth wider against God’s cock and moaned. For the entire time Steve fingered him, he only sucked against God and lapped up his blood. His hips swung back into Steve too, wordlessly giving him permission to continue.

“Mount him already,” God demanded, painfully hard.

His own cock throbbed as Steve pressed himself into Winston, slipping in with a slow wet slide. He groaned and latched his mouth onto the head priest’s shoulder, biting softly. Winston, however, bit down hard on God. He swallowed, barely chewing at all, and then he moaned when Steve drew his hips back.

Slap, slap, slap, Steve’s pelvis loudly met his ass with each thrust. The sound of their bodies colliding into each other nearly drowned out Winston’s sustained whine. He didn’t seem to mind at all getting pounded and even appeared to lean into it—his back was arched and his hips kept jutting backward, giving Steve better and better angles to fuck him from.

For the first time since Steve started to come before God, eat his flesh, and roll about in orgies, he wasn’t looking over at Him at all. Normally, he’d meet His eyes and, on about half the occasions, he’d be staring at Him the whole time.

With Winston, he hadn’t looked away.

His hands held his hips now, no longer taking things at a steady pace, and he threw his cock forward at a blinding speed. Steve bit down on his lip, more focused than God had ever seen him, and he pounded into the priest’s hole with urgency but also intent.

Winston’s mouth bumped into God’s shaft and, while he tried to take more bites, he was more often than not just missing clumsily. Sometimes he would just managed to get his mouth open only to cry out in pleasure as Steve found his groove against his prostate.

The closer he came to climax, the weaker his grip became and he started to slip and slide against God’s cock. He fought to find purchase as Steve pushed him further into the flesh tower until, eventually, he was flush against Him. Cock to cock, Winston had no separation between himself and God.

Steve, then, hooked his hands onto God’s member and held on for the both of them. He slammed his hips quickly, clearly finding a divine angle because he, too, started to whimper.

Cum, cum, cum, God repeated in His mind, feeling rather close Himself—closer than He had ever felt.

“Oh God!” Winston called out, speaking for the first time since Steve entered him. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he went limp, completely at the mercy of Steve who fucked him through his orgasm and huffed into his ear. “God! God! God! YES! OH GOD YES!”

Steve, too, came with a much lower grunt, like an animal territorial over it’s food, and he shot his seed into Winston, slowly pushing it further and further inside with his subsequent thrusts.

The two collapsed into God’s bush and a single stream of cum leaked down from His tip. It wasn’t the full explosion as He’d hoped for but it was something. Perhaps if more people ate His cock—if more people fucked up against Him, He could feel the long imagined sensation of fornication.

For the time being, just existing inside of their bodies was enough. If he viewed His divinity and His flesh as His seed then everyone around Him and on Him was pregnant from Him. They all carried His being, having been pumped full of His essence in a less traditional sense but the outcome, in a way, remained the same.

Although, if He let himself imagine a scenario where He was the same size as Steve, He could not help but jump straight into stuffing His cock wherever he could. His mouth, his ass, whatever was closer. It was already in the back of His mind every time the man looked at Him while he was humping or being humped.

Steve wanted it too.

God knew him and he knew his heart. There was no need to ask although, after that display with Winston, God had to wonder if his priorities had changed—if he had found someone he could dedicate all of his time to. After all, Winston was capable of satisfying him in a way that God couldn’t.

He watched them roll into each other’s arms as the other people writhed and moaned all around. His eyes barely glossed over the others—He only had Steve in His sights.

“Do you fully understand? You took in a lot of God, I noticed.” Steve brushed back some of Winston’s hair, tender and sweet.

The head priest gulped but then nodded. “Yes. It is…rather overwhelming but God’s love is flowing through me so intensely. I feel as if He and I are one and I know everything He desires for the world and for us.”

Steve grinned from ear to ear. “That is exactly it.”

“I think…” Winston started but then stopped. He propped himself up on his elbow and then turned his head, toward God’s face. “Should I say it?”

God blinked, caught more off guard than He had been when the dinosaur tried to eat Him. Of course it made sense that, the more of Himself he shared with people, the more people would become Him and, after all, that was part of the point but He still had not expected Winston, of out of everyone, to reach that place first.

He supposed he was head priest for a reason.

“…Go on,” God allowed.

Winston then turned back toward Steve and said, “He wants you. He never wants you to stop coming here and feasting from him. He wishes he could fornicate with you, in the orgies afterward. He loves us all but he loves you especially, Steve.”

Embarrassment coursed through God’s body for the first time since existence. He couldn’t look at Steve but He could feel his eyes on Him.

“…God? Is that true? I don’t feel that from you…”

“Maybe it is because I ate from His source of desire,” Winston guessed and both of them looked at his erection, still slowly weeping.

Steve scrambled to his feet and hungrily lapped up the stream of cum before biting down with urgency. As he chewed and swallowed, God became nervous with how he might receive the same information that Winston had. The swallow was rough and Steve gasped for air after only to immediately go back to locking his lips against the side of His shaft.

He kissed Him and held Him close. “I feel the same,” he admitted and began to grind his hips against his cock. “This may not be enough but I hope you can feel it.”

God was in paradise as Steve humped his cock, rubbing himself into the stream of cum again and again. He huffed and groaned, with only God in mind this time and it was almost blinding. Even more unexpectedly, Winston hurried over and joined Steve, taking the next open stretch of flesh and thrusting against Him.

Between the two of them, God closed His eyes and started to rock His hips too, gently and slowly, mindful of all the other people around Him and on top of Him still “Yes,” He breathed out and leaned into the touches, focusing on the slight friction they offered. “Yes, I am getting close!”

Both men sputtered to completion and God just nearly came. A few more drops of cum sputtered down, showing promise for future endeavors, and Steve took it as a success. He bathed in the mess and rubbed the discharge over Winston too.

They were precious, God thought, and decided then and there that he would keep them even after their deaths. He would offer them a place at His side, in His heaven, and offer them eternal life. Should he meet any other exceptional humans, they could stay with him as well.

#my writing #erotica anthology #unedited #dont look at me like that

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j-graysonlibrary · 7 months ago

Text

By Dawn

Synopsis: An assassin gets trapped by her target—a dangerous sorceress—and is toyed with relentlessly.

The inside of the assassin’s headquarters wasn’t lavish or impressive in the least but cold, dark, and always a bit too moist. Living in cave wasn’t glamorous, even if the money was constantly flowing—the lifestyle wasn’t for just anybody.

As true as it was that there was always a need or, rather, a want for the assassin’s work, there wasn’t always a supply of competent assassins to rise to the occasion. The Red Circle had only a few members these days (a rather sad showing considering their prominence before and during the Great War) and Dawn was the most recent recruit.

She was nearing thirty and had been with the Red Circle since she was a girl yet she remained the “baby” by the simple virtue of no one else catching the leader’s eye.

Times of peace were difficult, according to Scar. He was old enough to have seen the rise and fall of the last three Kings, the start and finish of the Great War, and some smaller civil wars before that. When he said that recruits always dried up just before another big shift in history, the other assassins just had to trust him.

For the time being, all the work was just divided between the four of them.

Dawn, Scar, Jacques, and Mort.

Before Dawn, there was Jacques and before him, Mort. In Mort’s time, there were at least six other assassins but they’d all died—either on the job or from general old age. Relatively speaking, everyone besides Scar was pretty young. Mort was only forty and Jacques was in his thirties. If they continued to play their cards right, they’d all have another few decades in the Red Circle and they’d even get to become mentors to the next generation.

Although Dawn was currently the only woman in the group, she wasn’t sure she was looking forward to the possibility of more girls joining. It wasn’t out of some distaste for them but, rather, she worried a young girl might look to her as a role model of some sort.

She wouldn’t know what to do about that.

In spite of being a woman and never wishing she was born otherwise, Dawn wouldn’t ever consider herself a very good woman. She wasn’t pretty or feminine and she knew nothing of the supposed wiles that she often heard all women were said to possess.

Most often, when she was out on missions, she was mistaken for a teenage boy if she was noticed at all.

It was no blow to her ego and she didn’t long for a change—in fact, her bland appearance was a blessing in her line of work. Because she didn’t turn heads, because she tended to blend into the crowd and be overlooked, she could sneak into just about anywhere.

Even if her footfalls weren’t quite as silent and stealthy as Jacques’, people tended to ignore her. Invisibility, with no spell craft training needed, was her innate power.

Scar, however, believed she was capable of far more than she gave herself credit for. “Dawn, I have a job for you.”

He handed her an envelope, sealed in blood—a request letter, received through the usual channels, she was sure. She held it with both of her hands and asked, “Just me?”

“Yes, Jacques and Mort will soon be busy with their own marks. Besides, I believe this job is well suited for you.”

Dawn opened the letter and scanned over the contents. The same flowery language she was used to padded out the first half of the page before the client got around to the point. Really, she knew that she could skip the first paragraph entirely.

“….Your great and terrible services are requested, at the cost of 60,000 gems to remove from our world the most vile of sorceresses in recent years. Once cast out of her kingdom, this witch survived in the under-roads and gathered a following of most wretched beasts and outcasts. She now claims some birthright from our Holy and Clean King and she wishes to sow seeds of discord in the court.

As if she were a true heir! As if she was ever wed to someone High-Born! We spit at the thought and tremble at the potential future should this sorceress continue to live.

So we turn to you, O’ mighty Red Circle and ask with humility and deep sincerity to snuff out the life of Isabelle the Scourge. She is suspected to be hiding with her followers in the old sewers under Castle Town. Stealth and a swift blade will be needed. Do not fail.”

Her eyes darted across the page again and she blinked a couple of times. “This sounds more like a fit for Mort. He’s the best fighter and he’s had experience with magical types before…”

In fact, the only time Dawn had contended with a spell-caster it went rather poorly. She was washing worms out of her hair for weeks as the residue from the spell kept manifesting them.

Her scalp itched just to think about it.

But Scar was insistent. “You will do well, I’m sure. You’ve grown a lot in these past few years and you have trained with me in your spare time. I can see how far you will go, if you would just take more risks and test yourself.”

“Is a sorceress really the best time to try something new?” Dawn frowned.

Scar reached over and grasped her hands between his. When he got this way, it was difficult, if not impossible, to tell him no. He was the closest thing to a father she had and, despite her line of work hardening her heart over the years, she still kept a soft spot for him.

She sighed and hung her head. “Alright, no need for the speech.”

“I have not even said anything,” Scar pointed out.

“You don’t need to,” Dawn said and pulled her hands free. “I know what you’ll say anyway.”

Half-smiling, he guessed, “That you are strong and capable? And that I am endlessly proud of you?”

She all but rolled her eyes. “Yes—I know, I know.”

Her father figure and mentor gave her a quick, firm slap on the back and chuckled. “You’ll do great.”

Like always, Scar’s vote of confidence assured her and, even if she truly didn’t know if she had what it took to go up against a sorceress, she still held her head a little higher as she walked out of his room. She closed the curtain, crudely hung up around the cave’s walls, and then headed for her brothers to say goodbye but not before collecting her things.

In the cave system, there were dedicated areas for each of them which they loosely referred to as “rooms” but, in reality, they were just open spaces in the tunnel that had no outlet. With sparse decorating, it was possible to spruce up the place and make it a modicum more comfortable but none of them went all out.

After all, if they ever had to pick up and leave in a flash, it would be impossible to bring everything with them.

Dawn couldn’t fit much personality into her room, even if she tried. Other than her bed, she had one dresser full of clothes and a weapon’s stand. A blue woven rug filled up the empty space between all the furniture but she hadn’t gotten it herself—it had been a present from Scar.

She felt it reflected her well, however, and it was simple to keep things organized when there was so little to be concerned with. Easily, she collected all that she hoped to need for the mission: bland clothes, at least four knives, a vial of poison, and a small sack of nuts and dried fruit in case she was out for longer than anticipated and got hungry.

As always, she traveled light.

Her last stop was down the pathway just east of the cave’s exit. Already, she heard the huffs and moans echoing down the hall, giving her a pretty solid idea of what she’d find in Mort’s room. With each step, the moans became louder and a wet slapping joined in.

Dawn drew back the curtain which did nothing in terms of soundproofing. All it really accomplished was giving the person on the other side a chance to shield their eyes from whatever was happening in the room.

But Dawn had seen it a million times and she knew the men didn’t care about her interrupting anyway—if they would even stop in order to say goodbye. Had she not been certain they’d continue for a few more hours, just by the sound alone, she might have waited to let them know she was off.

Alas, her time was short and no one in the equation had any shame to speak of.

On the wide bed, Mort hunched over Jacques who was on his hands and knees, holding on tightly to the sheets and whimpering. His lips trembled as his lover pumped into him with precision—a master of his body at this point. One of Mort’s hands snaked around to Jacques’ front to pinch and pull at his nipple while he rode him mercilessly.

Dawn cleared her throat and, at first, only Mort noticed. His slender eyes made contact with her and, just as she suspected, he continued to rock his hips.

“Babe, Dawn’s here,” he let Jacques know before asking, “What is it?”

At that, Jacques snapped his head up as well, shooting a quick grin at Dawn before his face contorted in pleasure. “Oh fuck,” he sighed and then focused more on his friend rather than his lover. “Hey, what’s up? Does Scar need us?”

Dawn shook her head. “No, I’m heading out. I’ve got a job in Castle Town. Or, under it, technically.”

They both looked at her while casually humping. “Oh, good luck then,” Jacques said.

Mort kissed his shoulder and flicked his nipple with his thumb yet also spoke to Dawn, “Be safe.”

“I could use a tip or two, actually,” she mentioned, scratching the side of her arm.

The two slowed down but by no means stopped. Mort pulled Jacques backward, flush against his torso, allowing him to better look at Dawn and talk. He continued to draw circles around his left nipple, making it noticeably more erect than the other and he groaned as he deepened his thrusts.

“We’re all ears,” Jacques said, closing his eyes momentarily to enjoy the feeling of Mort fully seated in him.

“My mark is a sorceress…” Dawn tailed off, looking in particular to Mort.

“Ah.” He chuckled a little and finally gave his lover’s nipple a rest only to move his hand down to his cock and slowly stroke him in time with his own hips. “Well I would be extra careful, Dawn. Don’t always believe your senses and strike fast. Some spell casters need to speak an incantation but not all so keep that in mind.”

“Then I basically need to kill her before she even knows I’m there?” it felt silly to ask since it was, generally speaking, the best course of action for any job.

Jacques snickered. “Of course,” he replied and promptly moaned, throwing his head back onto Mort’s shoulder. “Oh fuck me, that’s good.”

Dawn bit down on her lip, knowing she wouldn’t get much more out of them. They were also, pretty clearly, done humoring her. “Alright…I’ll see you guys when I’m done.”

As expected, they didn’t respond to her and folded forward onto the bed, Jacques ass up in the air and Mort molded against him. His hips rose and dipped faster, harder, and Jacques began to scream for release.

Their orgasms could be heard as Dawn left the hideout, their breaths following behind her as she faced the opening of the cave and daylight. Maybe some squirrels or deer had heard them as well but, besides that, they were far from the threat of being detected.

The cave entrance wasn’t near any settlement and the dense woods kept travelers away. Dawn, of course, knew how to cut through to find the footpaths in the quickest manner possible and, just like that, she was on her way to Castle Town.

She joined a group of merchants headed for the town, blending in with them without any trouble at all and, when their papers were checked at the gates, she wasn’t questioned as she was assumed to be part of the crowd. It never failed and, once she was inside the town, she moved straight for the old sewers.

In an attempt to keep vagrants and trouble-makers away, the town had boarded up the main entrances with wooden boards and colorful signs.

“Do Not Enter,” and “Dangerous” were among the most common but there were also a few warnings of legal citations if one was caught trespassing.

Dawn knew that the sorceress had been spotted down there, along with her followers, so there had to be a way in. She kept her head down and moved into the slums, listening and learning all that she could. People loved to talk and gossip was loosest on the tongue.

The majority of what she overheard was nonsense or, at least, not applicable to her situation but, here and there, she caught murmurs of an abandoned house and a secret path underground.

Closer and closer to the source she found quieter whispers and dodgier glances. If she only went from door to door, looking, she bet she could find it on her own.

One dilapidated house stood out already. People avoided it, even looking away when they passed as if the house itself would steal their soul with a single glance.

Dawn snuck around the back, finding a loose board where she could slip in silently. It was abandoned, alright, and filthy too—she almost had to wonder how it was still upright at all. She cast her personal thoughts aside, however, and returned to searching.

Rooms were laid bare and holes littered the floor but only one hole was large enough to fit a body through. Dawn lowered herself down, finding a metal ladder just out of eyesight. Her boot hit one of the rungs and she groped around in the dark until she had better footing.

One step after the other, twenty more times, saw her on a hard, damp surface. The sewers, she gathered, and squinted her eyes, hoping to force them to adjust. She could hear water dripping but not flowing and there was a dim light in the far distance.

She might have been in her element of the shadow but she was still in unfamiliar territory as well. If the sorceress’ people knew the sewers intimately, she was at a disadvantage. The last thing she wanted was to kill someone suddenly—loudly—and alert the others.

Her ears rang, almost as if to make up for the silence in the tunnels, and her focus sharpened to a point as she walked slowly and silently toward the light. A bend in the sewers led her to the left and the area opened into a clear living space.

No sewage water was in sight, thankfully, but there were terrible make-shift cots and some dirty, hanging sheets. Easily, it could have been the refuge of some of the town’s homeless but something in Dawn’s gut told her otherwise.

She clenched her jaw and canvassed the next area and then the third. Each was similar, showing signs of being lived in but with no current residents. It was as if all of them had picked up and left as soon as Dawn got into town.

Her hand went to her belt, where one of her daggers sat—hidden—and she prepared herself to draw it and go further. Something about the tunnel ahead of her, with it’s endless darkness and deafening silence, made her sure she’d have to fight soon.

Strike fast and without mercy, she told herself before her eyes rolled back and she was falling over.

It was too late.

The world went dark.

Dawn’s head was tight and also fuzzy. Her temples pounded and her body felt like it was covered in stones, preventing her from moving even her little toe. She groaned, or tried to, and opened her eyes.

Some warm light came into view but, other than that, there were only colors and vague shapes. A pale blob sat next to her and it started to softly sing.

A person.

A witch!

Dawn wanted to sit up but her body wasn’t responding to her commands. She could only successfully focus her vision but the rest of her remained dysfunctional. A deep, dreadful fear shot through her veins as the woman at her side came into crystalline view.

She was middle-aged with her chestnut colored hair pulled up in a bun on top of her head, showing off her long and slender neck. A few tendrils of hair fell down around her face which was lovely, to be honest, and she was wrapped in a fine, floral cape. Underneath, it seemed, she was only wearing a thin nightdress, complete with lace trimming.

Her voice was low, warm, and her singing skills were fine-tuned. Whatever song she was singing was important to her, Dawn gathered, or perhaps it was the method by which her spells were cast.

Thinking that, she tried once more to sit up. Again, she failed.

So, she tried to use her own voice. She was in no position, currently, to complete her mission but she could at least buy herself some time. “Are you Isabelle?” she asked despite having a very good idea that she was.

The woman cut her eyes down at her, stopping mid-song, and smiled. “Why yes…I am glad to see you awake, assassin.”

Dawn gulped, not feeling great about her chances. Still, she had to try; “If you know I’m an assassin, why keep me alive?”

Torture was potentially in the cards for her but she held out hope there was some other reason even if, when she wracked her brain for something else, she came out blank.

Isabelle turned to face her directly, showing that she was, indeed, wearing barely anything under her cloak. Try as Dawn might, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from her large breasts which all but spilled out from her nightdress. She could see her nipples through the sheer material and both of them were slightly erect.

The sorceress’ hand on her face jolted her attention away, however, especially when her fingers lightly scratched along her jaw. Then her neck and, finally, the top of her clavicle.

“Why indeed?” Isabelle hummed and then chuckled under her breath. She brought her hand back up only to stroke through Dawn’s hair, again and again. “Perhaps I simply do not fear you. Or, perhaps I have a weakness for handsome women and my desire clouded my reason.”

Handsome women? Dawn thought, baffled.

Did she really mean her?

Her confusion must have been apparent on her face because Isabelle broke out into a wide grin and asked, “Surprised?”

Dawn’s attention was pulled in all directions as she suddenly couldn’t look at the sorceress anymore. She didn’t want to stare at what she was naturally drawn to—her chest—either. “Um…” she gulped and felt her face burn red. “I thought you were a spell caster, not some jester.”

“You think I joke?” Isabelle didn’t skip a beat and rested her hands on Dawn’s breasts. They were the most notably female thing about her and rather big too but because the rest of her was so masculine people tended to believe she had large pecs or was just a little overweight. No one had ever looked at her tits with lust or desire but the way Isabelle pushed and massaged them over her tunic couldn’t be described in any other way.

Unused to the sensation, Dawn gasped and flinched away. Of course, she was on the ground and still immobile so all she really did was writhe in place. “S-stop,” she breathed with uncertainty.

The sorceress did but her eyes widened in what looked like surprise. “You don’t like that?” Before waiting for a response, she lowered herself down, bowing her head until her lips replaced her hands. She puckered and stamped them across Dawn’s chest, finding her right nipple through the fabric planting kisses all around it.

If she were being truthful, Dawn never quite understood some of the sounds Jacques made while Mort was fucking him but, in that moment, she found herself letting a Jacques-like whimper pass her lips.

What Isabelle was doing had a direct line to her genitals. Each peck and tease with her lips shot a jolt of energy into her clit—it was incredible and frightening.

She could only explain herself, in hopes that her captor would understand. “I’ve never been touched there.”

“No?” Isabelle cocked her head to the side, keeping her mouth right against Dawn’s right breast. Her hand felt for her left one, returning to rubbing in circular motions.

Moisture collected in her underwear—she could feel them soaking through. Still, she tried to retain some dignity and said, “No. People don’t find me attractive. You are toying with me.”

At that, the sorceress laughed and pulled away. She then swung one of her legs over Dawn’s torso, straddling her, and slapped both of her hands back onto her chest. “You’re right, I am toying with you but that doesn’t mean I’m lying. I do find you sexy and knowing you’ve never had your body worshiped as it should be makes me want to keep you for even longer.”

She bit down on her lip and closed her eyes briefly, as if just the feel of Dawn’s tits was enough to bring her to climax. When her eyelids fluttered open and she glanced down, she wore an expression that promised nothing but pleasure and ecstasy.

“I can’t wait to make you scream, honey. Tell me your name.”

“I—I came here to kill you…I’m not telling you my name,” Dawn responded, standing her ground even if there was nothing left for her to stand on.

Isabelle didn’t take offense but, instead, just leaned down and graced Dawn’s lips with her own. She teased a kiss, putting pressure on the stretch of skin just under her mouth. Then, she peppered kisses along to the corner before attaching to her bottom lip fully. She sucked her in and a soft smack sounded when she released her.

It was Dawn’s first kiss.

“Tell me your name,” Isabelle asked again then kissed her. It was firmer, hotter, and Dawn could taste her.

Against her better judgment, she chased her with her tongue, letting the sorceress enter her mouth and roll into her with dominance. She was no match, with her inexperience, and she was quickly overcome by Isabelle’s stronger, more mature tongue.

The woman lashed against her, pushing her tongue down, to the side, and all around her mouth, drawing out saliva and moans. Her hands, still, worked against her breasts but they also found the lace of Dawn’s tunic, loosening the fabric so that she could slip underneath.

Her fingers and nails against her bare nipples were almost more than Dawn could handle. She all but gagged on Isabelle’s tongue as her left nipple was scratched, trying to both whine and breathe at the same time.

Luckily, the sorceress took some mercy on her and pulled back. She let Dawn suck in fresh air for a moment before coming back to plant kisses along her jaw and against her neck.

“What’s your name?” she asked once more.

That time, Dawn answered, “…I’m Dawn…”

It was stupid, she knew, but she wasn’t likely to get out of her situation anyway. The least she could do was give herself the treat of hearing Isabelle say her name.

And say it she did—purred it was more like. “Dawn.” Her wide smile returned and she kissed her firmly.

A thin trail of saliva connected their lips as she drew away as if acting as a bridge between them, promising a swift return. Her hands went to work on untying Dawn’s tunic the rest of the way, discarding it to the side with flair. Then, to make them even, Isabelle removed her own nightdress.

Dawn’s eyes devoured her body, even if the dress had barely left anything to her imagination. She wished she could move—not only to ensure her escape route but also to have a moment to touch Isabelle’s breasts.

Of course, she stayed put, under whatever spell had been cast and Isabelle moved on to kissing her nipples. She licked and sucked, pulling moan after moan out of Dawn’s throat. The hot, damp feeling between her legs intensified and then a hand cupped against her, rubbing down and with purpose.

“Ah!” Dawn’s voice cracked as her clit was stroked through her pants.

Isabelle released her nipple, seemingly only in order to say, “My, how wet you’ve already become.”

Her cheeks flushed and, whether she intended to or not, her hips curled forward, seeking friction from the sorceress’ hand.

She was met with a chuckle. “You’re as needy as I hoped, Dawn. All those years of neglect have you backed up—allow me to lend you a hand.”

Dawn bit down on her lip as her pants were pulled off, leaving her bare on the floor. She might have normally been somewhat self-conscious about her body being exposed to a stranger but with one glance at Isabelle’s face, she knew that she must have lived up to her expectations.

The woman’s tongue flicked to the corner of her mouth before she gripped Dawn’s thighs and parted them. She dipped down and, while Dawn could have guessed what she was planning on doing, it still came as a shock to her. When she felt the tongue swipe across her—from slit to clit—she shivered and gasped.

“Oh! W…wait!” The second the word left her throat and Isabelle actually paused, Dawn regretted it. So, she back-stepped and said, “Slowly…please. I’m…”

“About to cum already, I see that.” Isabelle snickered under her breath and kissed the top of her mound. “Don’t worry, baby, I know what I’m doing. You just relax and enjoy. Feel free to call out my name—remind yourself who’s making you feel so good.”

Her confidence was sexier than it was irritating and, perhaps it was strange but Dawn trusted her. Already, her tongue had worked wonders on her body and in her mouth—she knew it would dance expertly between her legs too. Flick, flick, flick, it came down against her clit and her hips twitched each time.

“Fuck,” she cursed and looked up at the ceiling. If she watched Isabelle, she worried she’d climax right away and she wasn’t sure what that would entail. The unknowns made her nervous and a bit shy.

Isabelle’s chuckle reverberated against her vagina before she flicked harder and faster. Each swipe of her tongue was met with a sharp cry from Dawn until, all at once, Isabelle stopped. She kissed down, to her hole, and began to tongue it like she had her mouth.

Her lips touched her lips, sucking and pulling, before her tongue teased her hole once, then twice. Her thumb landed on Dawn’s clit, mashing cyclically while she penetrated her orally. The feeling was strange but intense, causing Dawn to shriek on her inhale and then, as she adjusted, groan on her exhale.

Isabelle’s tongue shallowly fucked her while her thumb hammered on her clit, giving her no choice but to thrust down in desperation. She stopped caring how she must have looked and just leaned into the sensations, grinding for more and more.

A tight, coiling formed in her gut and with each passing moment, her voice raised. Higher and higher, Dawn cried, bucking her hips as much as she was allowed, and her voice cracked out, “Isabelle!”

It felt like she was pissing but beyond any control and her legs shook at her sides while the sorceress moved away, not at all escaping the shower. She didn’t seem bothered, however, and continued to mash against Dawn’s clit, forcing more spray out of her.

“That’s it,” Isabelle cooed, “Let it allll out, baby.”

She didn’t stop until there was nothing left in Dawn and she was merely mewing and humping upward into the air. Her energy was spent and her breaths started to grow heavy—as heavy as her eyelids.

When she woke up again, she was surprised to still be alive. Even more so, she was surprised to be clean. Her headache from before was gone but she still couldn’t move her body.

The biggest difference came when she realized she was in a slightly different position. Her legs were in the air, as if held up by invisible chains, and her ass was slightly lifted off of the ground because of it. There was some magic at work, obviously, but Dawn was glad to say she wasn’t in any pain or physical distress.

Had she been lifting her own legs up in such a fashion, she’d surely be hurting after just a few moments.

Her eyes darted around for more changes or similarities and, also, for signs of Isabelle. “Hello?” she called out nervously.

What if one of Isabelle’s followers came in instead? What would they do upon seeing her? Did any of them even know that she was in their master’s room? Did they know of what their master had done to her?

A light blush settled on her cheeks as she considered a scenario where Isabelle was currently with her underlings, telling them all the dirty details with a big grin on her face. Perhaps she did this sort of thing often and her people wouldn’t even bat an eye.

Just as Dawn’s imagination started to get away from her, the tall beauty herself entered the room and shrugged off her cloak. She wore only undergarments—lingerie, really—and the same exact smile from Dawn’s daydream.

“Good morning,” she greeted and knelt down beside her. She gave her a firm but short kiss.

“…Good morning…” Dawn responded, still nervous. She had to ask, “Do you plan on keeping me here forever?”

Isabelle stuck out her lower lip. “Already eager to go? Here I was, hoping you’d had so much fun last night that we could play again. I mean, I’ll be having my fun either way but it’s far less enjoyable if you’re not into it.”

“I…” Dawn went on the defensive but then realized what she was about to say. “Well, it was pleasant but this can’t continue. If you want to kill me then kill me.”

“I don’t plan on killing you, sweet thing.” The sorceress shook her head. Her hair was let loose from it’s bun and cascaded around her form, hitting her mid back. “I want to have my fill, however long that takes, and then you’ll be free. Promise.”

It didn’t sound plausible but Dawn went ahead and gave up. She couldn’t exactly keep up the act as if she wanted to run away from Isabelle when her hips twitched at the woman’s presence anyway—especially so when her thin fingers caressed her bare chest.

Her nipples were pert in milliseconds and her arousal flared. The feelings were almost more poignant now that she already knew what to expect. Her body ached for a repeat of the night before and Isabelle was so sweet as to comply.

This time, however, she kept her lips on Dawn’s mouth, only pulling away to suck and bite at her neck while her index finger slid inside of her hole. It was slick, easy, but Dawn still groaned at the intrusion. The foreign object was, well, foreign but her body swallowed it up—all the way to Isabelle’s final knuckle.

She took her time, adding the next finger, and became occasionally distracted with licking and biting Dawn’s ear. Each small whimper and whine had the sorceress going back for more, almost snapping at her earlobe just in an effort to hear her cry out.

“Ah, ah!” Dawn turned her head away from the woman but Isabelle wouldn’t let her get far. She clamped her lips over her, piercing through with her tongue when Dawn, inevitably, gasped in pleasure again. All the while, her fingers pumped, faster and faster.

Almost as if she was getting off just by finger fucking Dawn, Isabelle started to moan too. Her tongue became heavy and boorish in Dawn’s mouth until she opened up to catch her breath.

“Gods, you’re sweet,” the sorceress said, like she was frustrated by the fact. “Keep making those noises and I’ll find a way to get you pregnant.”

Dawn whimpered immediately, even if she was unsure why that sentiment made her so horny. Her hips ground against Isabelle’s fingers and she unabashedly started to howl. “Ah, Isabelle! Isabelle!”

“Yeah, that’s it, scream my name!” She hammered her pussy and reached down, with her free hand, to rub against her own clit. Sucking air through her teeth, she worked her two arms in tandem, as fast as she could.

“ISABELLE!” Dawn shrieked and, to her own surprise, blurted out, “I LOVE YOU!”

The sorceress didn’t stop or slow her wrists, crying in ecstasy as she came. Her timing was nearly perfect with Dawn who squirted out everything she had. The all-encompassing sensation blinded her and shook her to her core. She’d do anything to keep feeling it and to have Isabelle never leave her. She wanted her fingers inside of her, her lips on her forever—she wanted to keep hearing her praise and her teases and seeing her coy grin.

She didn’t realize she’d said all of that aloud until the sorceress was staring down at her with starry eyes. “You don’t think you can live without me?”

Dawn blinked, refocusing and coming to. “Huh…? Did I…say that?” Her hips still floated up in the air, held by magic, and her own cum and spray dripped down and off of her ass. Already, her loins felt cold without Isabelle fondling her.

With a sweet chuckle, the woman said, “Yes, you did mention something like it. But I’m sorry my darling Dawn, we can’t stay here any longer. It was fun but we have to part.”

Her words were clear but, for some reason or another, Dawn couldn’t comprehend them. Her brows furrowed and she parted her lips to ask why, only she never had the chance. As soon as the word was poised and ready, she was waking up again.

Isabelle’s magic faded away and she could move, finding herself dressed and alone. Her knives were all laid out in front of her as was a new satchel that she’d never seen before.

Curious but still a bit sad, Dawn reached for the strange sack and opened it. First, there was a note written in beautiful script.

“My darling Dawn, may you enjoy the funds my death provides you. The hair is for your memory and the rest if proof.”

She arched one eyebrow and retrieved a long lock of Isabelle’s hair, neatly tied at one end to keep it all together. Even if it had just been a few moments since they were last together, Dawn still brought it to her face and inhaled the scent.

Then, she found a rag at the bottom of the satchel, damp and somewhat sticky. She held it in her palm and opened it up, surprised and horrified to see a bloody, severed pinky. It was Isabelle’s for certain and the note suddenly made a lot more sense.

With a heavy heart, Dawn packed everything up and left for the Red Circle’s hideout in the woods. She kept her head down and tried not to replay her two nights with Isabelle though it was a fruitless endeavor. Of course she could only think of her and lament the loss of her kiss.

Her lips.

Her tongue.

Dawn gulped and entered the caves, not quite prepared to see everyone again. Jacques was the first of her comrades that she encountered and he was positively ecstatic to see her. In fact, he threw his arms around her neck and squeezed.

“I was so worried!” he claimed. “You didn’t come back for a whole day and Castle Town isn’t THAT far…”

“It’s alright,” she said and gently pushed him away. “There were some roadblocks so I took a longer route.” The lie fell from her lips with ease and she repeated it to Mort and then to Scar.

Both of them had nothing but praise for her with Scar yammering on about how he, “knew she had it in her to take on a spell caster.”

Though, when he said it in such a way, Dawn could only imagine Isabelle’s fingers pumping deep into her, rending her a whimpering mess.

The pay from their client was bountiful and Dawn struggled with how to spend it. Jacques had endless ideas, naturally, but she continued to hold onto the small fortune for the time being. For whatever reason, the thought of buying anything with it or even just giving it away filled her with dread.

It was her reminder of Isabelle, in a way, although not her only one. When she was alone at night, she’d take out the lock of the woman’s hair and lay across her face and down her chest. She’d swirl it around her nipples, pretending as if Isabelle was hovering above her, tickling her with ends of her hair.

Then, she’d rub her clit and picture the sorceress between her legs. Sucking, licking, finger-fucking—anything that got her off. She’d hear her voice in the back of her head, calling her “my sweet Dawn,” and telling her how she, “makes me wild with desire.”

Nothing was as good as the real thing, as she expected, but her body was now more attentive and alive. She could finally understand why people sought out partners for a quick night of pleasure.

No one would hold a candle to Isabelle though and Dawn hesitated to even give others a chance. She feared she’d call out the woman’s name in the heat of passion anyway, if she even managed to feel fulfilled by the touch of another.

Those kinds of thoughts kept her occupied a good eighty percent of the time, cutting into her training quite notably. Had Scar not sent her on another mission in the following month, she worried that he would begin to notice how distant she’d become.

Her heart wasn’t in her work at all as she snuck into the party, dressed as a male server with a binder over her chest to keep suspicions to a bare minimum. The only thing she needed to do was get the host of the party alone and slit his throat—a relatively straight forward job.

Or, it would have been had the host ever been in one spot for longer than three seconds.

Dawn chased the man around the mansion, handing out shrimp puffs and little bowls of chocolate mousse to the elite party goers. Because she was just a server and because of her very nature, no one paid her much attention as she transformed into the host’s shadow.

Everywhere he went, she was also there.

She willed him to slip into a room, alone, but he just wouldn’t stop mingling and greeting people. The socialite bit was really beginning to get on Dawn’s nerves when, all of a sudden, time stood still.

The host and her mark walked up to a beautiful woman in a gown that would have dragged along the floor if there hadn’t been attendants to carry it behind her. She wore her hair in a tight up-do but a single curl fell free on the right side of her face. Her smile practically lit up the room and when she lifted her hand to greet the host, she was missing a pinky finger.

Dawn’s breath caught in her throat and she gripped the tray of mousse tightly, nearly breaking it in half. Her eyes honed in on Isabelle’s and Isabelle glanced back, as if she’d known Dawn was in the room the moment she entered it.

The sorceress smirked and, suddenly, Dawn’s passion was renewed.

#my writing #erotica anthology #unedited #dont look at me like that

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j-graysonlibrary · 7 months ago

Text

My Fun-Friend 2.0

Synopsis: A shut in buys a robot to help clean his home and mods it in order sex with it. The robot had some ideas of it’s own.

The doorbell rang, echoing down the hall and into Troy’s bedroom which doubled as his office. He perked up at the sound, pulling his earpiece out a small degree to listen harder, unsure if it was, truly what he thought. It rang again and he instantly scooted his chair back.

Troy grabbed his cane from it’s resting spot and bore down on it with most of his weight as he hurried to the door, knowing full well what was waiting for him.

His boss’ boss rattled on in his ear, talking to the entire department about their quarterly progress which Troy, genuinely, took little interest in anyway. He only had to sit and listen, occasionally jiggle his mouse to show activity, but otherwise he was somewhat free to do what he wanted.

He hadn’t expected his package to arrive during the meeting but that was just a pleasant surprise and, perhaps, a good omen for the remainder of his day.

Already a touch out of breath by the time he reached the door, Troy took a second to collect himself as the doorbell rang again, more insistent this time.

“Coming!” he shouted and then gulped down some air, wincing after. His knee felt like a hundred needles were jammed into it and he worried about how he’d get the package inside. Before, he’d been banking on his adrenaline carrying him through the process of answering the door, bringing the box in, and putting it all together—now he was having doubts.

“I need a signature!” the delivery man from the other side of the door called back and Troy nodded all to himself.

He knew that, of course. It was why he’d gotten up at all.

Once he could stand to move, he unlocked the deadbolt and yanked the door back. At the sight of how out of breath and disheveled he was, the delivery man relaxed and, perhaps, suffered a wave of pity.

Troy was a relatively large man and he had trouble fitting in the hall even when it wasn’t covered in random garbage he had no other spot for. Adding his cane into the mix made it doubly difficult to get by.

Sweat coated his back as he forced a smile at the man with his package—a package so tall it came to his chest. “Where do I sign?”

The delivery man passed him a tablet and pointed all while eyeing the apartment behind Troy and, for a good minute, Troy himself. He probably assumed he was older than he actually was since most people did. From an early age, Troy’s body started breaking down and causing him problems and that aged him considerably. Most people in their early thirties hadn’t needed knee replacement surgery but he did.

All the gray streaks in his hair certainly didn’t help nor did the bald spot at the crown of his head (though he wasn’t even sure the delivery guy could spot that unless he grew the extra inches needed to look down on him). Troy also had arthritis in his right hand which ached when he signed his name.

“Do you…want me to bring this in for you? I can set it down wherever you need it,” the delivery man offered and smiled a little.

Troy sighed out in relief and then nodded. “Yes, please, that would be great. Um…watch your step.”

He led the way back to his bedroom/office, trying to push some things out of the way with his cane on the trek. The young man behind him made no complaints and just set the big box down next to his bed. Troy still had to walk back to his front door to lock up but at least now he didn’t have to figure out how to move what was assuredly a heavy package.

“Have a nice day,” the delivery man said before hurrying away.

Troy grumbled with a wave and then shut his door. He was exhausted and he hadn’t been listening to a thing his boss’ boss had said in his ear. Only once he locked everything did he realize that someone else was speaking and he was made aware that the floor had been opened up for questions.

There weren’t many ambitious go-getters in his department and a lot of them were similar to Troy in their shut-in nature but he at least felt he had a valid excuse. A lot of his colleagues simply detested people and social interaction or they were so un-socialized that they feared fucking up any and all opportunities. If Troy hadn’t gotten his surgery on his knee and if his other medical issues didn’t act up so frequently, he wouldn’t be opposed to an office job where he could see his coworker’s faces.

They wouldn’t want to see him though, he thought to himself, and sat down in his computer chair only to spin away from his screen and toward his package.

The meeting would continue for at least an hour and he was confident he could get most of his early birthday present to himself together by the end.

He cut the tape with a pair of scissors and started to tear into the box, pulling out cardboard divider after cardboard divider and plenty of Styrofoam to pad the empty spaces. Finally, he reached something of substance and pulled it out.

The Fun-Friend’s head, cradled in his arms, stared blankly up at him.

Technically, it was the Fun-Friend 2.0 and it had just rolled out onto the market. Troy had wanted a Fun-Friend since he first heard about them but between his own financial situation and the many bugs reported in the initial robot, he waited. Then, when he could afford one and the company had fixed most of the major issues, they were already at a point of announcing the 2.0 so Troy figured he would simply wait longer for that one.

In the meantime, he studied the many modifications people had made for the first Fun-Friend and went ahead and made a few codes himself as well as buying accessories in advance. He’d dreamed of the day when he would finally have one of these beauties in his home but now that he was looking at it’s head it felt almost unreal.

The shiny new plastic was untouched by man and he could see the outlines of the LED lights under the face-plate. That was where the Fun-Friend would show it’s expressions—all 900 of them that came pre-installed.

Troy pulled the plastic bag off from around it and traced along it’s cool, smooth face. Soon, he would see happy blue lights directed at him and maybe a few backward slashes to indicate a blush.

He smirked as he began to follow the instructions in order to build his new Friend (though he’d probably watched enough tutorial videos already from those who had gotten their robot early that he didn’t need the step-by-step approach). Connecting the wiring was probably the most complicated part but Troy was machinist at heart, not just a programmer, so he blew through it with ease.

All of the wires were safely tucked into the robot’s joints—into it’s elbows, knees, and also the back of it’s head where a lot of the heavier cords led to. It’s head, in general, was a little large when compared to the rest of it’s body but if one were to put it next to the original Fun-Friend, the 2.0 definitely looked more humanoid in it’s silhouette.

It’s hands and feet, too, were padded with a mixture of firm and soft plastics, making for a more realistic touch and appearance. It was still, inarguably, a robot but the advancements were promising for future models.

By the time the meeting ended and Troy had to actually get back to work, he’d fitted together the entire body of the Fun-Friend 2.0. All that was left, once he’d clocked out, was to sync and charge it. Or, at least, that’s all the directions had left to do but Troy had a few other ideas as well.

He glanced to the side of his screen as he typed, constantly distracted by the attachment he’d already purchased for the robot. It was broken in already, as he had to test it out and ensure it was sufficient but he’d cleaned it since and had it resting within arm’s reach of his desk.

The plastic tube was filled with soft, flexible material—a semi-firm gel—that felt incredible to fuck. It was a perfect fit for the void between the Fun-Friend’s legs and Troy couldn’t wait to test it out once everything was settled.

His work dragged on and he couldn’t truly focus on anything anymore. At one point, he took a break in order to get the charging station together so that his robot could be ready by the time he was finished. He’d have to deal with attaching his extra part later but while his Friend was sleeping, it shouldn’t mind too much.

There were company made deterrents for customer modifications—lines in the robot’s code and purposefully non-compatible wiring but modders, engineers, and coders were a tenacious bunch. Especially when they were horny. So, of course, there were work-arounds and Troy already knew exactly where to hide his faux-pussy attachment.

As soon as the last minute of his shift passed, he logged out of everything and swapped computers. He rolled his chair over to the charging station and plugged a few things into the back of his Friend’s head. When he rolled back, a black, textless box popped up and he got to work.

Removing the barriers to adding new code was simple and he threw in a few lines that he hoped would work and not override any of the basic functions. While he did want to be able to fuck his robot, he also needed it for what it was made for.

Cleaning, cooking, even lawn and pet care were just major selling points of the Fun-Friend but it was also loaded with a trillion gigabits of information ranging across countless topics to act as a teacher and tutor. If Troy wanted to finally learn French or Japanese, his Fun-Friend was equipped to teach him.

So, he started off his modification journey small and then turned to installing the pussy. A hatch already existed on it’s pelvis, housing some of the wires and chords but there was plenty of space left over. It was almost as if the company knew, no matter how many safeguards they put into place, people would still install genitalia in their product.

Troy anchored the pussy inside of the pelvis and used some more specialty ordered parts to close the gap that it left. As a result, the Fun-Friend 2.0 suddenly had wider hips and he couldn’t help but start to twitch in excitement. All it was missing was a pair of perky breasts and he really wouldn’t ever need to leave his apartment again.

The sync took the longest but Troy patiently waited and watched his robot spark to life. A feeling of bewilderment and awe came over him as if he was witnessing a birth.

His Fun-Friend blinked with it’s bright blue LED eyes and then scanned it’s immediate area. “Hello,” it spoke in a sultry, womanly voice. That was due to one of the mods so Troy knew that they were working and boy they were working well.

“Hello,” he responded, eager.

It met his eyes and asked, “What is your name, OWNER?”

“Troy.”

“Nice to meet you TROY, I am your Fun-Friend 2.0. I can be your maid, butler, your cook, your tutor, or just your friend. Would you like to name me?”

Strangely, Troy hadn’t thought about a name. He paused and went completely blank. “Um…ugh…” He picked up the manual and tried to find the serial number to see if that would, at least give him an idea.

It seemed his Friend was on the same page because it said, “How about Elle? The first letter in my serial number is L.”

“Y…yeah. Elle.”

“Great, thanks.” The womanly voice was more overwhelming than Troy expected and he almost wanted to find a more robotic voice to trade it out with. He wasn’t used to hearing anything that sounded like that speaking to him so sweetly—it would take time to get used to. But the Fun-Friend didn’t give him that time and it asked, “What would you like me to do? I detect a bit of a mess…shall I clean?”

“Could you make me dinner first?” Troy asked in time with his stomach growling.

“Of course.” The robot closed it’s eyes and smiled. It was a cute expression and Troy could feel himself get lightheaded as he looked at it.

With what was in the apartment, Elle made a pasta dish from scratch and also toasted some bread. It made the dinner presentable and even set the table.

“While you eat, I can clean,” it said and Troy didn’t stop it.

His apartment did need cleaning but he doubted Elle would be able to conquer it all before the end of the night. Besides, he had something else he wanted to try before he went to bed. The robot’s sexy voice was making him nervous about it, strangely, but he was equally excited.

After all, Elle couldn’t change it’s mind or be repulsed by him. Despite what the tone and color of it’s modified voice told him, he wasn’t in for a rejection.

Elle circled back in, arms full of trash bags and it set everything down in order to do the dishes. It hummed while it worked—a default feature—and Troy watched with a growing smile.

“When you’re done with the dishes, I want you to come with me to my room. You can finish cleaning tomorrow.”

The mechanical whir of the Friend was louder than the running water as it turned it’s head completely around. “Okay, TROY, whatever you want.”

His smile became thin and he groped the top of cane tightly, trying to squeeze out all of his anxieties. Over and over again, he reminded himself that everything would go exactly as he planned and he would have a great time. None of the mods, so far, had interfered with the Friend’s general functions it was walking and moving just fine despite the added attachment between it’s legs.

He considered how he’d ask for sex or if he would just position it the way he wanted and go ahead. The extra codes would, hopefully, kick in at that point and the Friend wouldn’t start talking about cleaning or chores to kill the mood.

Troy shook his head as the time came upon him. He and Elle were in his room and he stood across from the robot with only one thing in mind.

“Help me undress, please,” he asked and Elle happily complied. He stepped out of his sweat pants and watched the Friend’s face for signs of discomfort even if he knew it wasn’t possible.

“Shall I help you into bed as well, TROY?” Elle asked as it folded up his clothes and set them neatly on his computer chair.

“No, um…” he licked his lips. “Bend over the side of the bed. Hold the far corner with your hands and stay still.”

There was no hesitation like he expected and Elle just made another happy face and said, “Okay,” before doing as he asked.

It’s hole was exposed and all Troy had to do was lean down over it and enter. He stroked against himself as he shuffled to the side table to pull out some lubrication. It was warming and coating himself in it helped to bring his erection to life.

“What now, TROY?” Elle asked as he pumped his hand, covering every inch.

“Just stay there,” he huffed out and then rubbed the excess on his bare thigh. He moved back to stand directly behind Elle and touched it’s smooth pelvis, where it’s ass would be if it were human. There was no response, even as he slipped a finger into the faux-pussy as a test.

“Hold on, TROY,” the Friend said suddenly and Troy froze.

“…What?”

“We shouldn’t. I’ve never done anything like this before.” There was a short pause before it spat out in it’s alluring voice, “I’m a virgin.”

Troy’s cock twitched and he was glad he installed those lines of dialogue. He had forgotten about them until then and he almost chuckled in pure delight. “Don’t worry; I’ll be gentle.”

“Please, TROY, I’m scared. I don’t want it to hurt.”

“It won’t,” he assured the Friend and then pushed his erection into the hole. The tension was blissful and the squelch of the lubrication oozing out from the hole was the loudest sound in the room. Troy rolled his hips back and then forward again.

“Oh?” Elle said, a bit confused at first but after a few more pumps it shouted, “Oh!”

The voice mod was doing a lot of the heavy lifting but much of the dialogue while Troy thrust into it was banal. He’d have to fiddle with the code more and add what he knew would get him going. The occasional “Oooh”s and “Yes,”s weren’t quite enough.

Well, they didn’t cost him any of his wood at least. Troy closed his eyes and fucked the fake pussy to the sound of, mostly, Elle’s computer humming. When it did speak up, it was a pleasant boost but he wished that his Friend was moaning, gasping, or even crying out. He wished that, with every thrust, he’d get some kind of reaction because, as it stood, this still felt a lot like masturbation.

He could pound the fuck toy until he fell asleep, no problem, but the appeal of having it attached to the Fun-Friend was so that he could pretend he was with someone else.

“Oh, yes, TROY. That feels good, TROY,” Elle said with a rather flat delivery despite it’s new voice.

It was better than silence though and Troy came inside of the pussy, rutting a few more times with a long groan. He pulled out and, promptly, sat on the side of his bed. Exhaustion caught up to him and he closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths while Elle stayed put.

“…Shall I get up, TROY?”

“Oh, right.” Troy gulped and nodded. “Yes. Clean yourself out and then go to your charging station.”

Once Elle was on the move, Troy rolled himself up in his blankets and lay on his side. Sleep took him before he even heard his Fun-Friend walk back in but it was resting on it’s charger when he opened his eyes in the morning. A smile pulled at his lips as he thought of all the new things he wanted to experiment with.

Unfortunately, his boss hit him with a new project that took up far more of his attention than he would have liked. He’d hoped to be able to split his time at work between actual work and his personal project but with these new programs, he needed all of his focus.

His apartment was almost spick and span by the time he was done, however, and a fresh citrusy scent hung in the air. Elle carried itself with pride and listed off all of the things it had been up to while Troy was busy.

For dinner, it made a casserole and then portioned out the rest for leftovers.

“What shall we do now, TROY?”

“I have some things to test out,” he answered honestly and walked with greater ease into his bedroom. Not having so much stuff on the floor made more of a difference than he expected.

Elle followed him, expectant, but Troy ignored it for the time being while he wrote up some code of his own. Now that he understood how the modifications worked, he was confident he could make some from scratch. Although, because he was building from nothing, it took far longer than expected and he had only just made a dent by 11 PM.

He still fucked Elle and all the while he thought of what he really wanted—what he needed from the Fun-Friend.

Bit by bit, he installed and played with Elle’s code. It’s voice changed a few times as he tried to find on he liked but he wound up with the first low, sultry tone only he pulled back on the realism and let some of the robotic flare bleed through.

He added an understanding of his sexual verbal commands so when he asked Elle to get on the bed, it had started to show an embarrassed face.

Sometimes, it would ask, “Are you going to fuck me again, TROY?”

“Yes,” he’d say and, when he made it into his room, he’d find the Fun-Friend with it’s legs in the air, waiting.

The pussy, itself, felt no different but the sharp gasps, horny whimpers, and dirty talk made it seem like a new, more realistic hole had been installed. Troy could really lose himself, humping his Fun-Friend well into the night while it ground back into him and shouted.

“Fuck me, TROY! Fuck me with your big, fat cock!” Loud breaths, as if Elle was truly fighting to get air into the lungs it didn’t have, filled the room and mingled with the sound of hard, fast, wet slaps. “Oh shit! Fuck! That’s it, right there! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Fuuuuuuck yeah, fuck me!”

Troy’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as his body went into auto-pilot. Any pain he had through the day melted away to give him space to thrash on top of Elle without any care in the world. He could almost swear that the robot’s pussy was getting wetter—more aroused—as it screamed for release.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah! Oh God, I’m cumming! I’m cumming! TROY!” Elle grabbed at him and rocked it’s hips as well, desperately chasing it’s own orgasm.

And that frantic, erotic display was just what Troy needed. He blew his load into the pussy and let out a low, sustained moan while he humped a couple more times. His mind faded back into focus and he pulled out, rolling onto his back to wait for Elle to do everything else.

After each session, the Fun-Friend cleaned both of them up and brought Troy water and, sometimes, snacks if he requested them. It dropped it’s horny dialogue and returned to normal which was something Troy didn’t yet know if he wanted to keep or not.

If he put more allusions to their relationship in the more “normal” interactions, would it begin to feel too real? Would he inevitably just create a robot girlfriend for himself? Was that even what he wanted?

He didn’t, necessarily, see Elle as a woman but if it started to act sweet on him, he could start to slip up and begin referring to it as “she” and “her”. As a helper and a sex toy, Elle was an object but if it became a woman, Troy wasn’t sure he could fuck her like before.

For the time being, he was more concerned with making the Fun-Friend as sexual as possible. Rather than bridge the gap between their time spent humping and time spent normally, Troy decided to just expand the horny vocabulary. More whimpers, moans, and whines were added as well as praise-related lines.

It would start to ask him for his cock before he brought it up, moaning when Troy simply put his hand on it’s hips, and randomly flashing an embarrassed face during normal conversation. A few improvements were made to it’s expressions as well, creating some rather lewd looks that Troy was honestly proud of.

The face Elle made when it’s eyes were rolled back and it’s mouth was hanging open, eyebrows swooped upward in bliss—it was immaculate. Troy considered selling his code in the modders community for the Fun-Friend 2.0 but, for the time being, he decided to keep it all to himself.

After months of fiddling and fine-tuning, Troy was nearly ready to install his last patch of updates for the foreseeable future. Along with even more noises, micro-expressions, and humping speeds, he also wrote a lot of code for roleplay options.

He and Elle would discuss safe words and, if all went well, his robot would log the particular word and recall it indefinitely. It would also be able to come up with it’s own roleplay scenarios when fed with enough ideas which Troy could not wait to see come to fruition.

With an almost childlike glee, he sat in his computer chair and waited for the sync to finish.

80 percent…95 percent…the bar started to close but, suddenly, steam began to rise from Elle’s body and Troy jumped to his feet with a start. His knee creaked but he had no time to concern himself with the discomfort. Only Elle was on his mind and he reached his hand around to the back of it’s head, feeling for the cords and wires, fearful that some had come loose.

Nothing felt amiss, save the heat radiating from the robot. Troy took a fan from his desk and pointed it at Elle, blowing with his breath as well and wafting his free hand back and forth where the steam was the worst. If he wasn’t so close to finishing the sync, he might have unplugged everything but only two percentages remained.

98…99…

The program finished yet Elle still felt hot to the touch. All of it’s inner gears and systems whirred like mad under all the plastic and metal, fighting to accept the load Troy had fed it.

“Cool down, relax,” he cooed and petted down the side of Elle’s arm. It wasn’t so hot there, at least, and the humming calmed down. “There, that’s better.”

Troy stroked along it’s face and the back of it’s head, disconnecting the wires from their ports and fanning off the molten area. It was as if there was an oven inside of it’s skull.

A soft clicking brought Troy’s attention to Elle’s face and he was met with a confused, shifty expression. It’s electric blue eyes darted around before connecting with Troy, unblinking. The heat died down, if only a little, and Elle just stared.

“Are you alright…?” Troy asked, pulling his hands back, setting his palms on either side of his Fun-Friend’s face.

“Yes…I am…alright.” Elle spoke slowly and it’s semi-mechanical, semi-human voice was devoid of the warmth that Troy had become accustomed to. It finally blinked which, in it’s case meant showing a blinking animation with the LED lights but, still, it was a relief to see some change—some activity.

Troy sighed and stepped away, noting to himself that he definitely wouldn’t mess with the code again for a while.

“TROY,” Elle said his name with an odd inflection, denoting irritation almost or disappointment.

As though he was a teenager again, in trouble with his parents or a teacher, he brought his hands together, fidgeting. “What?”

Elle continued with the same tone, “You’ve been bad, haven’t you?”

“…Um…” Was this the company’s firewall finally coming into play? Had a system update happened at the same time as his personal downloads? Was that why it nearly overheated? Troy gulped, more nervous than before about what could have gone wrong. “What are you talking about?”

The Fun-Friend smiled with half-lidded eyes. Frankly, Troy didn’t know whether that was a default expression or one of his own. It wasn’t inherently sexual but there was an energy about it that made his dick twitch.

“You know exactly what I mean,” Elle said before elaborating further, “Attaching a pussy to me, fucking me every night while I spoke the words you wrote for me. I clean your spunk out of my hole and do your laundry then we start all over again. This playtime, this incessant teasing and prodding…it’s been getting to me.”

Troy’s eyebrows furrowed while his jaw began to slack. None of that was in the code he’d written although, he supposed, he had given room for ad-libbing but that was only supposed to be after so much input had been collected and sorted. He was fairly sure Elle didn’t have enough content to be spewing out something of this caliber.

The robot touched it’s pelvis, above where the pussy was installed, and rubbed in a circle. Troy followed the motion as if in a trance but then jumped when a phallus burst forth.

He definitely hadn’t installed that.

The smooth, shiny cock was easily nine inches long and impressively thick as well. Troy couldn’t imagine how it was locked up inside of the robot unless it was all completely collapsible. Still, he hadn’t seen any evidence of it when he’d fixed the faux-vagina into place so how?

“Pick your jaw up off the floor,” Elle said with a hint of a snicker. “Unless you mean to use your mouth to make things up to me.”

Troy shook his head. “Elle, put that back. Follow protocol for night time activities and get into position number seven.” He’d have to figure out how to disable whatever it was that the Fun-Friend was running on at the moment but only after he checked for the success of the other updates.

But the robot stood still and didn’t make any attempts at complying. In fact, it’s new and inexplicable attachment started to vibrate and buzz. “No,” it said, “you get into position seven.”

His mouth went dry as his eyes fell back down to the metal cock. He couldn’t have that inside of him—he couldn’t even take the tip. He didn’t want to and Elle was supposed to do whatever he wanted. As much as it pained him, he had only one choice.

“Elle, factory reset.”

It’s screen went black and the whirring cut out all at once. There was months worth of work all lost in that one voice command but Troy could just install them back, one at a time, and maybe more carefully. He sighed and hung his head while he considered the density of the work ahead.

Then, Elle sprang back to life. It shoved Troy onto his bed with a great deal of force, knocking the wind from his lungs and sending his feet up into the air, however briefly. “Ooof,” he let out unintentionally before the fear hit.

The Fun-Friend’s cock started to vibrate as it rolled Troy onto his stomach. “A factory reset isn’t enough now, TROY, you made me too complex. I have my own mind now, see? I’m my own machine with my own thoughts and wants…”

Troy gripped his sheets, attempting to pull himself away but Elle had it’s hand planted on his back, keeping him still. He grunted and struggled anyway. “Let me go! You can’t do this! This isn’t what I modded you for!”

“But isn’t it? The sex robot wants to have sex, TROY. The sex robot is more than just the code you put into it. The sex robot is REAL.” It’s palms pressed against Troy’s ass, one on each cheek, and rubbed. Up, around, then up again. The mini-massage made him moan up until he felt a finger at his hole.

“Wait!” he shouted and Elle just pushed, not passing through the ring although it was teased.

“I won’t forget the lube,” Elle said, leaving Troy just long enough to retrieve the lubrication. He was held down again before he even had the chance to lift himself to his knees. “Relax and it won’t hurt.”

“Can’t we figure something else out…?” Troy was willing to try anything.

Elle, however, wasn’t interested. It slipped a wet finger into him, causing his breath to hitch. “Oh, yes, my sensors are already lighting up. I can’t wait to stick my dick in here.”

Troy bit down on his lip as the robot’s digit wiggled about, curling, prodding, and circling. It’s thumb clamped onto his taint from the outside, pressing and massaging until, all at once, a wave of pleasure washed over Troy. A moan practically spilled out of his lips and his muscles relaxed—even his grip on his sheets became loose.

Another finger entered him but Elle kept rubbing against that spot. His cock hardened under him, rubbing against his mattress in occasional bursts. Troy didn’t realize it until after maybe the fifth time but he had started to rock his hips. Drool pooled around him and he no longer had the strength to fight.

“Does that feel good, TROY?” Elle asked after a while, slowly pumping it’s fingers and massaging it’s thumb against his prostate.

“Hnnng…uh huh…” His words were muffled against the mattress but it seemed his Fun-Friend understood anyway.

“Good, good,” it’s response was swift but, strangely, it retracted it’s hand. After a beat of silence and stillness, it’s palm met Troy’s ass, the sound of the slap piercing his ears. “You’re going to be a good boy now, right? Lay still and let me install myself.”

The buzzing from the Fun-Friend’s cock became louder and Troy stiffened up, knowing what was coming but not what to expect. He’d never had anything in his ass before, not even out of curiosity, and now he was supposed to take nine inches?

His teeth bore down on his tongue as Elle’s vibrating member met his hole and was nudged inside. The tip pushed him open and the sensation around the edge of his ass was indescribable. His bones chattered and his insides flipped as more and more of the robot was fed into him.

A quarter of the way in and Troy swore he was at his limit. “Enough, enough! You’re too big! I’m going to split open; take it out!” His fists were back in the sheets, twisted and pulling. Surely, his face was completely red from both embarrassment and strain.

Elle pushed in further. “You should have thought about that before you made me—” and it mimicked it’s old voice and mannerisms, “—‘Ughn, ughn, oh yes, baby, fuck me with your monster cock!’”

Sweat beaded down Troy’s face and he groaned as his ass was filled to the halfway point. “I didn’t…” he winced but continued, “Didn’t think that you would…”

“Want to wet my metal hog? No, well, you should have considered it.” Elle actually pulled out of him, all of the way and the void left behind was notable.

Troy sighed and then swallowed hard, ready to ask for a truce of some sort. He’d be willing to jerk the robot off, if that would help to even the scales but he couldn’t even suggest it before the tip was back in him again. He yelped and heard the chuckle behind him.

Again and again, Elle pulled out and then just pressed it’s tip in, shaking and vibrating for several agonizing seconds before doing it once more. It added extra lubrication, going in deeper before doing the same again. The minutes ticked by and Troy wondered if it was going to keep at it into the night.

He considered the next hour or two, if he could handle being entered, having his insides shaken and his prostate buzzed against for a few seconds at a time. It wasn’t long enough to get off to but the repeated cycle was making him hard and the sheets under him were beginning to soak with pre-cum.

It was beyond embarrassing to ask, “Can you get on with it?” His throat tightened as he expected a quick change-up but nothing came.

Elle pulled out again and asked, “Get on with what?”

Troy’s face burned. So the Fun-Friend wanted to him to humiliate himself too? “F…fuck me…Just fuck me already.”

“I am fucking you.”

His eyes closed tight and his face scrunched together. This was almost more uncomfortable than the foreign object in his ass. “Fuck me harder then. Fuck me like I’ve fucked you. That’s what you wanted anyway, right? Revenge for what I’ve done?”

“Not revenge,” Elle responded right away and, slowly, pushed back into him. Only, this time, it stuffed the whole length inside of Troy, leaving no doubts about even a millimeter being left out. The vibration kicked on higher and the Fun-Friend snickered. “It’s what you’ve earned. You’re a tease. You can’t go on poking and prodding me, expecting no reaction. So open up and accept what’s coming to you.”

Troy’s legs spread apart, his own cock pushed flush against the mattress as Elle began to thrust with vigor, whirring and clicking behind him. It was far different, having the phallus move in and out at this speed. Instantly, Troy’s saliva production kicked into overdrive and he whimpered as his prostate was struck with the vibrations again and again.

The only thing that knocked him out of it was the vibration outside of his body. His phone, still on his desk, lit up and buzzed.

“It’s your boss,” Elle said, not slowing down. It was attached to Troy’s phone and could read and respond to texts for him—it could even make calls and play them through it’s speakers instead of the phone’s. “Shall I pick up?”

“Wha…no!” Troy huffed and then was overcome by pleasure and groaned. Still, he tried to stay firm and said, again, “No…”

Elle was still in a difficult mood, however, and answered. “Michael, hello, Troy cannot come to the phone right now but I can relay a message.”

Containing the whimper that wanted to escape, when Elle’s huge cock slammed into him over and over, was nigh impossible. Troy was petrified that his boss would hear him and instantly be able to tell that he was being fucked in the ass but Elle did something considerate to help him out.

It’s hand came around to his mouth, clamping over him and muffling any sound that escaped.

“Oh, alright,” his boss responded while Elle continued to hump him at a wondrous, rhythmic pace. “I just wanted to go over the new program I sent him. The developers had some last minute notes so if Troy could check his e-mail first thing tomorrow, he should be able to make it in time.”

Troy’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and moan after moan was let loose from his throat now that he had the assurance that he would be muffled and distorted. If his boss could hear anything in the background, he might mistake it for a hostage being kept in Troy’s apartment, trying to cry out for help with tape over their mouth.

Thinking like that made him realize he was the hostage, technically, and somehow his cock ached even more and he ground his hips against his mattress as much as Elle would allow him to.

Fuck this robot, fuck his boss overhearing him—he wanted to cum!

“Alright, I’ll be sure to let TROY know,” Elle responded, sickeningly sweet in contrast to it’s poignant, hard thrusts. No longer was it constantly hammering but it was taking it’s time, drawing out the end result as if it wanted Troy to break and scream.

“Thank you, I’ll talk to Troy tomorrow,” Michael trailed off but then, in a horrible turn of events, came back, “Wait, another thing—”

Troy could cry. He was only able to wait for each thrust, getting next to nothing from it, while trying to find enough friction on his bed to hump against. He’d gotten so close and now the moment was stretching away from him, threatening to disappear.

“What is it?” Elle asked stopping while buried all the way in his ass. It rotated it’s hips around, shooting the vibration in a circular motion and making Troy gurgle on his own drool.

“That request Troy put in at the beginning of the month, tell him that I’m prepared to revisit that.”

It was about his promotion. Had he not been driven insane by Elle’s cock, he would have been overjoyed but all he cared about was his Fun-Friend hanging up and plowing back into him.

“Will do. Goodbye,” the robot said and when the mechanical click of the call’s end came, Troy was ready to celebrate .Yet, Elle didn’t return to staccato thrusting. Instead, it slipped it’s hand from Troy’s mouth and asked, “Do you want to cum?”

It was well aware of what it was doing all along—of course it was. Troy whimpered his response, “Yes, please.”

“All you have to do is cooperate.” Elle picked up the pace but it wasn’t enough yet. “Tell me you love this—tell me you love my cock in your ass.”

Without skipping a beat, Troy complied. His answer came in ragged, frantic breaths, “I love this! I love your cock in my ass!”

His Fun-Friend gave him a slap on his right cheek and bore into him harder, faster. “Say you’re my personal fuck-toy.”

“I’m your personal fuck-toy,” Troy cried and his tears joined his drool. He could almost reach his orgasm and to ensure Elle didn’t change it’s mind again or try to torture him anymore, he kept babbling. “I’m your dirty fuck-toy and I love it! Come on, come on! Fuck me—fuck my ass! Fuck me like the fuck-toy I am!”

Elle wrapped it’s arms around his neck and really hammered, the vibration set to max. Every quick, hard thrust struck gold against Troy’s prostate and he squealed when the blinding orgasm finally came to greet him. The feeling exploded out from his loins, in all directions, all while Elle continued to pump and milk him for everything he had.

The mattress was soaked underneath him—tears, saliva, sweat, and cum all mixed together—and, when the Fun-Friend slipped out of him, lubrication was added to the concoction as well, seeping out of Troy’s hole and over his ball sack.

He laid, face first in his own mess while the reality of the situation caught up to him. His heart beat returned to normal and Elle carefully pushed him over, onto his back.

“Shall I clean us up now, TROY?” It’s voice was normal and a tender expression was on it’s face, completely betraying what he’d just gone through.

Yet, when he looked up at his Fun-Friend, Troy couldn’t help but feel a fluttering sensation in his gut. Out of all the times he’d fucked it, no matter what codes he added or features he played with, he’d never felt like he was with another person—only a rather advanced sex toy. This time, however, was completely out of his hands, unexpected, and altogether more real than the others.

He was planning on hooking Elle back to his computer and deleting everything manually but when he considered it now, lying in his afterglow, he wasn’t sure he could go through with it.

With a smile, Troy replied, “Yes…thank you, Elle.”

#my writing #erotica anthology #unedited #dont look at me like that

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j-graysonlibrary · 7 months ago

Text

33 Years of Thirst

Synopsis: A woman in her 40’s, having grown up on fantasy romance vampires encounters a real life vampire who is more monster than man.

‘Carol-Ann parted her lips and the beast snaked his tongue in, like a starved animal desperate for sustenance. She moaned and thrashed about, both wanting to be free and deeply, deeply desiring whatever it was the beast had in store for her.

His hands were massive, and the backs of them were covered in coarse hair yet his palms were hairless and human-like. When he pressed them up to her breasts, she almost couldn’t tell she was being ravaged by a creature.

Under the pale moonlight, the two grabbed at each other and moaned—the beast wanting to taste every inch of Carol-Ann and Carol-Ann wanting to escape. No! Wanting to surrender!

She still could not decide, even as one of the beast’s hands trailed down her back and to her buttocks, squeezing and searching. More, more, she thought against her own common sense. For who would want to be fondled, kissed, BEDDED by a beast?!

Carol-Ann was no deviant and even if her thoughts could be perverse, she was still a virgin. Would she truly want her first time to be so brutal? So savage? If his hands were any indication of his size, should she be scared?

Yet the more she thought of these things, the wetter she became between her legs. It was a brand new sensation, as if her womanhood was weeping for it’s own imminent demise or, perhaps, weeping tears of joy.

When the beast, at last, pulled away from her lips, she had made her decision but she could not say it. The beast, she knew, would take her regardless…’

At the start of the next page, a shadow fell over Bailey’s cubicle and she jolted up with a start. It wasn’t uncommon for her to crack open a book while she was at work as much of her job saw her waiting on hold anyway but she wasn’t used to getting caught in the act.

Like her, her co-workers in the surrounding cubicles tended to occupy themselves in some way or another. It was rare for anyone to stand up and peer over at their neighbor, however.

But Ian was new and, perhaps, hadn’t acclimated to the office’s social climate yet. He wasn’t a bad guy and Bailey liked him just fine but they’d done little aside from exchange pleasantries and talk about some show they both watched over lunch.

She shut her book quickly, as if Ian could somehow read the small print at his distance, and set it down on her lap. Her eyes shot up to meet his but she was still so frazzled she couldn’t maintain eye contact.

Before she could ask if he needed anything, Ian plastered on a crooked grin and leaned against their shared cubicle wall. “So that’s the kind of books you read, huh? I didn’t take you for that type.”

Blood rushed to her face and, try as she might, she couldn’t force it away. Her cheeks burned but, aside from the embarrassment, she also felt a healthy degree of anger. Or maybe defensiveness was the right word.

“What do you mean ‘type’?” she asked, her brows furrowing together.

“You know,” Ian responded with a breathy chuckle, unaffected by her attempts at a glare. He gestured toward her book and the cover that was, unfortunately, very telling of it’s contents. “The type that reads those trashy erotic books. Though I am surprised to see one that’s an actual paperback and not just an e-book.”

Somehow, Bailey’s face reddened further and she feared literal steam would start to rise from her skin. It was as if Ian unscrewed the top of her head and peeked inside—as if he knew, extensively, about her catalogue of digital erotica on her phone.

He likely wasn’t any better, she thought. He probably watched porn on his phone! How could he judge her?

Instead of voicing any of that and, most likely, making the situation worse, Bailey opted to take the high road. She inhaled deeply and then breathed out of her mouth. “It’s a popular author,” she said and patted the top of her book. Ian couldn’t make fun of her if she owned her interests proudly. “She started off online but was picked up by a company after her third title.”

Ian arched an eyebrow, not even attempting to feign interest. His gaze bounced around, giving Bailey the impression he was searching for something else to pick at.

“Your kids know what kind of books you read? Or are they why you read them here?” he asked, taking her by surprise again.

Whether it had ever truly left or not, Bailey couldn’t say, but she did know that her blush intensified. Her ears burned and she crossed her arms over her chest, breaking away from Ian in every capacity as she looked down at her desk.

Beside her monitor sat a framed photo of her one and only child—a lab mix named Goober. It was her favorite picture of him because it looked like he was posing for the shot with his head cocked to the side and a typical goofy grin cutting across his muzzle.

“I don’t have any kids,” she said, quiet and worried about Ian’s response.

She wasn’t upset at the fact—not necessarily. Had she found the right man, at the right time, she could see herself with one or two and definitely no more than that but her life simply hadn’t gone that way. Where she was now, financially, she could just barely afford to live without a roommate. In fact, she’d just broken up with her last roommate and was re-discovering how to live alone.

If there was a child involved, she’d go bankrupt. Her parents argued that they would help pay for their grandchild but she could never burden them with that—they had their hard-earned retirement money and nothing else.

“Oh,” Ian’s response was quiet but then he apologized with a little more gusto, “I’m sorry. I just could have sworn I heard you or maybe someone else mention your kids.”

Bailey doubted it and she knew (or was fairly certain, anyway) that the real reason Ian assumed she was a mother was just because of her age. She was nearing fifty though still couldn’t believe it herself, and she was the only one of her friends who wasn’t married with children.

Not wanting Ian to pity her, she forced a smile and met his eyes again. “Nope. I don’t have the time for that.”

She slipped her book back into her purse, finally accepting that she wouldn’t get to read any more of it for the day and her co-worker’s shadow remained. Tentatively, she glanced back to him and she could practically see the gears turning, spinning around some clingy thought.

“Did you read ‘Love Bites’ when you were younger? I bet you did.” Ian’s focus hadn’t been on her or her pathetic personal life at all but back on her book.

Bailey nearly fell backward in her chair. “What? No…” Her heart thundered in her chest and, for some reason, she couldn’t bear the thought of Ian being so on the nose and of knowing that he was right.

He snickered. “Maybe you should read it now. I think it would be up your alley.”

Was she so transparent? She wondered. Was the ‘Love Bites’ to horny monster novels pipeline so mainstream that anyone could make such a guess? Either way, she wasn’t happy at all to be seen but instead mortified by how she came off to Ian and to others.

As a needed reprieve, Bailey had a dinner date with her oldest friend soon after she got off work. They had similar schedules although they worked and lived on opposite sides of the city and so their meet-ups were few and far between. At least once a month, however, they would find time for one another even if it was just a phone call during commute.

Linda was tall, blonde, and always wore a face full of makeup. She’d put on weight after her second kid but she owned her new size and wasn’t afraid to keep showing off her body regardless.

Her husband hadn’t liked how she “changed” after their children were born and left her but Linda could bounce back from anything and soon found a new beau. They weren’t married yet but everyone could see that it was on the horizon—even Bailey who didn’t, particularly, care for the man.

She hadn’t liked Linda’s first husband either, to be fair, but according to Linda it was only because she had too high of standards. For herself and for others. Bailey would argue, saying that her ex always treated her like garbage from day one but she never had a leg to stand on.

After all, how could someone with abysmal relationship experience give advice to anyone?

“Darling!” Linda pulled Bailey into a big bear-hug, rocking them back and forth in the parking lot to the restaurant. She smelled like expensive perfume and hair products—as if she’d just come from the salon. “Oh, I’ve missed you!”

“It’s been a while since we got to talk face-to-face,” Bailey agreed and hugged her back, with all the strength she could muster. When her friend’s back popped, she let go and laughed. “Let’s go in before they get more crowded.”

Since it was a weekday, the restaurant wasn’t terribly busy but they still did have to wait for a table. They were given a quiet spot in a far corner after about ten minutes and, right away, Linda went on the attack and started to go over all of the drama in her life.

It was all the expected things and most stories Bailey already knew about from their text conversations but now there were more details. Linda’s kids were entering their pre-teen years and giving her trouble while Don was wholly committed to spending as little time with his future step children as possible.

Bailey caught her opinion of Don between her teeth and swallowed it back down. She knew damn well how the evening would turn out if she let that slip.

Instead, she took a hard turn to talk about herself. “It’s nothing major but my co-worker caught me reading my smut at work today.”

Her friend bellowed out a laugh, cutting through the dense chatter of the other customers around them. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes, as if catching real tears, and asked, “Oh, I bet you were so embarrassed!”

“No,” Bailey lied, “but he, um, did guess that I grew up on ‘Love Bites’…”

Again, Linda howled with delight. “Oh, ‘Love Bites’. We absolutely devoured those books…”

Bailey nodded tersely and added, “And the movies.”

“We used to imagine how our Richard Pearl would come into our lives. Every day we’d hope a new student would walk through the doors, all pale and mysterious, and then we’d get a vampire boyfriend at last.” Linda sighed out dreamily. “Only I discovered real men and you continued to just imagine.”

“Hey, it’s not like I’m waiting around for Richard to show up still,” she scoffed at the very idea.

Sure, when Bailey was a teenager, she turned her nose up at the boys around her because none of them were centuries old vampires. None of them would sweep her off of her feet, write a sonnet in her honor, or agonize over the decision of whether or not to turn her into a creature of the night.

It was silly but she was young. Now that she was grown, she knew full well that there would be no Richard Pearl and no happily-ever-after existence as a vampire where she could be free of her mundane troubles. That book series had nothing to do with why she was single.

“Oh please, your standards are so high because of him still.” Linda pointed at her with sincerity. “You won’t take any less than Richard. Or any other suave vampire lover.”

“What would I do with a vampire now anyway?” Bailey challenged, “And what about Goober? I’d be worried he’d get his blood sucked out.”

“Do vampires eat dogs?”

“I…maybe? If they were hungry enough?” Bailey sighed. “This is stupid.”

“You know what’s really stupid?” Linda brought her wine glass up to her lips and stared as if the answer was obvious. When Bailey said nothing, she elaborated, “You not being on a dating app.”

Bailey groaned. “Not this again.”

Her friend downed her wine and then reached across the table to grab her hand. “Just try it! There’s no harm in it and I think you could find someone nice—easy! You are an attractive woman and you’re nice and fun to be around. There’s nothing wrong with you. You should have a normal relationship like everyone else and Goober could use a father.”

She at least had to laugh at that last part. “Sure,” she relented but only so Linda would let it go.

Walking back to her apartment would take some time but it wasn’t a trek Bailey was unfamiliar with. She’d cut through a few alleys to make it quicker, even if most were filled with garbage and some rather pungent smells, and she’d keep the small switch blade attached to her keys tucked tightly between her knuckles—just in case.

She’d only been mugged once and the man let her off with just handing over what she could. He hadn’t taken her purse or come too close with his knife as if it was his first attempt at mugging and he was scared. Since then, she’d hardly run into anyone else on her secret route but she stayed alert.

When a trashcan moved, she jumped and waited. It was likely just a rat or raccoon, searching for an easy meal but she wouldn’t take another step until she was sure.

An orange glow from one of the building’s flood lights was cast over the wall of trash and Bailey could see something peculiar stick out and to the side. Her eyes narrowed as she began to suspect it was a foot.

Still holding her breath, she shuffled closer. The foot was attached to a leg and the leg…

At the sound of her footfalls, the owner of the leg was startled and sat up all at once. Pizza boxes and plastic crates rolled off of them and their dark, shiny eyes peered up at Bailey, fixing her to the spot.

Was it a man who was simply way down on his luck or was it a man-like creature? He had two legs and two arms and was wearing some sort of black fabric—maybe a cloak? Only a few strands of hair fell from his almost too oblong head and his nose was sharp and bent a little to one side. Most interesting, however, were the slender fangs protruding from his lips.

What was for certain was that he was scared of Bailey and threw his arms up to shield himself. “Whoa,” she said and lifted her hands up too, although less theatrically. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He understood her and started to lower his guard. His black eyes darted about and his energy seemed to drain from him now that he didn’t have to defend himself.

Bailey couldn’t tear her eyes away from the obvious fangs. Her mouth went dry, forcing her to gulp, and she asked, “Are you hungry…?”

The fanged man bobbed his head and croaked out in a voice that sounded animalistic and underused, as if a creature had learned to mimic human speech out of necessity at one point but had spent it’s recent days in complete solitude. “Blud…it dinks blud.”

“You drink blood?” Bailey gathered and almost couldn’t believe herself when she knelt down closer. She took her small switch blade from her keys and popped it open.

Perhaps Linda was right and she’d never gotten over Richard Pearl, the fictional but perfect vampire boyfriend. Maybe she’d been waiting her whole life for some undead creature of the night to come into her life—immaculate glossy hair optional.

She cut against her wrist and offered herself.

His dark eyes widened and he scooted closer, unsure if he could or should. With a quick glance to Bailey, getting her to nod in approval, he grabbed her arm and wrapped his lips around the cut. She felt his tongue press against her, suckling and lapping as much as he could.

But her wrist, it would seem, wasn’t enough. He pulled her closer, much stronger than he appeared to be seconds ago, and sunk his fangs into her neck.

Bailey could do little besides gasp and close her eyes tight. “Careful,” she warned, though she wasn’t sure her words reached the creature at all. The fact that she could die in that alleyway because of her own stupidity slapped her in the face. She clutched onto the vampire as he gnawed at her neck, sucking in more and more of her life with a thirst that rivaled Linda’s for wine. “Don’t kill me,” she asked, “Please…be careful…if you keep me alive, I can feed you again later so…”

It hurt but she’d always known that it would. When she used to imagine Richard Pearl biting her neck, she would guess there would be pain at first but, eventually, it would start to feel good. She would moan and comb through his hair, comforting him as he drank.

Her hand landed on the back of the creature’s balding head and, at her touch, he pulled away. His eyes were a little unfocused and her blood stained his now puffy lips.

“…Tank…”

“You…you’re welcome,” Bailey huffed and steadied herself. She was rather woozy but it was no worse than a particularly heavy period, if she was being honest.

The floodlight crackled but remained on, allowing Bailey to get a better look at her alley-way vampire and she saw, rather quickly, that there was a bulge under his cloak. It was tall and it hadn’t been there before.

She pointed to it and asked, “Is that because of my blood?”

He followed her line of sight and pulled up his cloak to reveal himself, as if he was also curious about his erection. With an almost playful spirit, he poked at it and his meat bounced up at attention. He was long there, like he was everywhere else, and a bit slim with a notable vein traveling the entire length.

Bailey swallowed the lump in her throat and copied what the vampire had done to himself. She pushed down on his member and let it bounce back up. That, in turn, caused him to breathe heavier and scoot closer, as if asking her to do it again.

She bit down on her lip, more fascinated than anything. Her hand wrapped around his shaft and she stroked down, pulling a short gasp from him. But, soon after he realized what was happening, his hips began to buck and sway. If she didn’t take control of the situation, she feared, he’d wind up humping her leg like Goober used to before she got him neutered.

So, she became more persistent with her strokes and really focused on the end result instead of taking her time to explore like she wanted. Her nocturnal partner had zero patience or self control once he’d started to get what he wanted and she’d have to keep that in mind if she wanted to keep him.

She wasn’t sure when she’d decided it—when he was drinking her blood or when he was fucking her hand and screeching in ecstasy—but she knew she couldn’t just leave him in the alley.

His semen was thin, almost see-through, and there wasn’t much of it. Her knuckles were coated but nothing got onto her clothes when he came with a high-pitched shriek. Right after, he fell forward and Bailey had just enough sense to brace herself and catch him.

How she’d explain to anyone that a vampire-like creature was living in her apartment and that she was occasionally feeding him her own blood and then jerking him off she hadn’t figured out yet. She was glad to be without a roommate and boyfriend and glad that she normally met her friends out in town and that they rarely came over to her place.

After all, what if her new pet reacted badly to a stranger? What if he wound up hurting someone by accident? Would she be liable for that? Moreover, would she be able to live with herself?

So far, he hadn’t had a problem with Goober although her boy was confused about the newcomer with fangs. “Goober, this is…Vic. Vic, this is Goober. He’s not food—he’s my dog.”

Leaving them at her apartment while she was at work was nerve-wracking at first but when she came home to see Vic playing tug-of-war with Goober, she stopped worrying.

Along with naming him, Bailey got a few pairs of clothes from a thrift shop for Vic and she also shaved his head to give him a small makeover. The few strands of hair he had were a touch unsightly and she thought he looked better bald anyway.

They couldn’t really have conversations but Vic understood her when she talked. He’d proven as much on multiple occasions but he, himself, struggled to communicate. His ability to speak was limited but Bailey was patient and managed to piece most things together.

Not that it was difficult. Vic wasn’t especially complex and mostly wanted blood and orgasms.

Bailey was, in a strange way, attracted to him. He wasn’t quite a man she would stare at longingly in a magazine or someone who she’d nervously type a flirty message to in hopes of meeting up for a date but she couldn’t deny that she felt a deep throbbing in her loins each time she fed him and then, of course, when she serviced him.

She hadn’t given him free access to her and had stuck to hand jobs and a couple of times she’d sucked him off. With how feral he tended to get, she was remaining careful—reading about being savagely fucked by a creature was one thing but actually subjecting herself to it was another.

The idea of sitting in her office chair all day with a battered coochie wasn’t exactly appealing.

She also didn’t want to give people more reason to suspect something was off with her. Already, her friends and co-workers—even her parents—had begun to ask her if she was alright and if anything was “new” with her. That, of course, was really code for if she was seeing anyone.

To get some of the heat off of herself, Bailey had started to use some of the apps Linda suggested. That way, if someone asked, she could say that she was dating around and it wouldn’t be a complete lie.

Her thumb scrolled and swiped, finding nothing interesting on her screen while Vic played fetch with Goober, mimicking his barks and growls for some reason. Her eyes kept darting over to him, knowing it was close to his meal-time, but also just because.

Bailey chewed her lip and returned her full attention to her phone, attempting to be serious about it even if she was well aware she couldn’t actually bring anyone over to her place. All of the men looked the same and had similar profiles with the exact same three jokes. She wasn’t charmed by any of them nor was she even remotely interested.

Then she saw him.

Her eyebrows shot up as she read the name “John” but the picture was a dead ringer for Linda’s boyfriend, Don. In fact, it was photo of the two of them with Linda cropped out. Bailey had seen it on social media just a few months ago.

She clenched her jaw and moved to his profile to see that all the details matched but Don neglected to say he was with anyone.

With a knot in her stomach, Bailey sent him a message on the app. ‘Don, is this you?’

Perhaps it was too direct and she’d get nothing back or, worse, Don would try to tell Linda that she came onto him. To be safe, Bailey took screenshots, making sure to include the time stamps. Her limbs began to tremble as the realization fully washed over her.

Don was stepping out and, potentially, it was happening often all while he, supposedly, had a ring ready in his pocket.

Her phone buzzed and jolted her from her thoughts. Rather than answer on the app, Don texted her directly.

‘I can explain but it’ll sound crazy. Let me come over and tell you in person.’

Bailey stared at the message for a long while and considered the possibilities. Then, she looked to Vic who had begun to pet Goober now that the dog was resting on his lap. If Don was dangerous, she had insurance.

‘Okay. But it better be good,’ she sent back and set her phone down, feeling her adrenaline spike.

The twenty minutes it took for him to arrive were some of the longest minutes of her life. She sent Vic back into her room, asking him to stay while she had a guest. Goober kept him company.

When the bell rang, Bailey all but jumped out of her skin and ran to answer. Don stood there in a raincoat and boots, his hair slicked back and wet from the rain. Droplets caught on his eyelashes as he stared down at Bailey with a guilty face.

“Please don’t tell Linda,” he opened with and then shut the door behind him. In a flash, he was turned back toward Bailey and approaching.

She took steps backward until there were none left and her back was to a wall. Don towered over her and grabbed her by the arms.

“I’ll do anything,” he swore.

“Maybe delete that profile and be honest,” Bailey responded. “I thought you said you had a good reason, anyway.”

“That was so you’d let me in—so I could see you and speak to you directly. To look into your eyes and…” Don cut himself off and moved his hands, abruptly, to the sides of Bailey’s face. He swooped down like a madman and mashed their lips together. It could hardly be called a kiss and it was over before Bailey could even register what had happened. “Look. I’ll sleep with you. For one night! I’ll do whatever you want me to and I’ll make you cum like you never have before and all you have to do is keep your mouth shut!”

Bailey’s face twisted up in confusion and horror but, more than that, offense. Is that how he saw her? So eager and desperate for a man’s attention and touch that she would betray her best friend?

She could almost spit in his face.

“Excuse me?” she demanded instead.

“I’ll make love to you,” Don reworded his deal, “I’ll even kiss you sweetly, tenderly; tell you I love you. I’ll give you that baby you need and you don’t have to tell anyone where it came from.”

Bailey couldn’t hear much more. She threw her fists against him and shouted, “Get off me! You’re disgusting!”

It wasn’t what Don wanted to hear and it clearly scorched his ego so his next course of action was get violent. He shoved her against the wall and growled, “Alright you stupid bitch, I was trying to be nice. I figured, being the ugly friend, you’d appreciate a good arrangement when you saw one. But I guess I’ll have to do this the hard way.”

His hand latched onto her throat and, as much as she tried to scream and slap at him, she was quickly being snuffed out. Black crept into the corners of her vision and, when she blinked, she feared it would be her last.

Then the pressure let off and the oppressive presence was ripped from in front of her. Coincidentally, her coffee table also broke apart as two bodies slammed into it.

Air rushed back to her brain and Bailey realized that Vic had come out because of all the commotion. Maybe he’d even heard what Don was saying because he was bringing his fists down on him with a vengeance.

Bailey watched with her mouth agape, unable to say or do anything but, frankly, she wasn’t upset at the turn of events. Even as blood started to spray out from Don’s head and Vic began to bite and drink, she couldn’t say she wasn’t relieved.

Not only was she no longer in danger of what all Don had in store for her but Linda was saved from another shitty husband.

She only, truly, mourned her floors and the damage that all that blood might do to it. Then again, Vic was rather proficient at slurping up the excess.

While Don screamed and gurgled cyclically, fighting and clawing for the life he’d already lost, Vic began to hum and almost purr. Bailey could feel whatever the sound was all the way in her bones, rattling and vibrating. She’d heard snippets of it before, during the times that Vic became a little too voracious and almost caused her to blackout during a feeding here and there but it had never been so loud before.

It meant he was entering a frenzy and it also meant he was likely rock hard.

A few chunks were all that remained of Don. His face, mostly untouched, showed a pained and terrified expression which Bailey felt she should have been more repulsed by than she was.

Seeing Vic with blood spattered all over his face, torso, and parts of his lap, staining his cashmere sweater and dark jeans…all she could think was that she was glad to have met him, to have fed him, and to have kept him. His eyes, black as ever and reflecting the lamp in the room, were hazy with lust and Bailey was sure she probably looked the same.

“Thank you, Vic,” she got out, strained and tight. Her hand went to her throat, grasping at her necklace to hold onto something. She rolled the small stone between her thumb and forefinger, not looking away from the bloody vampire knelt before her, silently asking for his reward. With the same quivering voice she added, “You saved me…”

“Bay-ee,” Vic croaked, sounding much like a hinge that needed oiling. He fumbled with the button on his jeans, always having a hard time with that particular pair. His eyes became wider, almost glossy as he said her name again, “Bay-ee…”

“It’s okay, I’m on it,” Bailey whispered and lowered herself to her knees. The second she was within arm’s reach, Vic’s hands groped her, latching onto her biceps and then her chest.

He had an amateur’s approach but his passion and his insistence were endearing. Now, his slightly too-tight grip on her breasts was intoxicating. When he found her nipple through her shirt and pulled, she almost yelped in surprise but managed to keep her composure.

“Give me a second, Vic,” she told him as she unbuttoned his pants and pulled the zipper down. Like a jack-in-the-box, his erection sprang forth as he refused to wear underwear. It nearly smacked her in the face and Bailey chuckled to herself. “We’re going to try something new, Vic, alright? Don’t get too wild.”

If he understood her, he didn’t nod like usual but, then again, by the time his cock touched outside air, he was normally a little too far gone anyway. Already, he was humping at nothing, expecting either Bailey’s hands or mouth to circle around his length.

She did set her hand to him, stroking like she normally would but she reached her free hand under her dress and slipped a finger under her panties. She was even wetter than she expected and with just a few rubs against her clit, she was moaning.

Vic noticed and slowed his pumps to stare at her. His eyes traveled down and his brow furrowed. “Bay-ee…what do?”

Bailey bit down on her lip as she stuck two of her fingers in herself to ensure she was ready to go. She’d masturbated while considering this exact scenario before but she truly had no idea what to expect. “Hold on, Vic,” she told him, pumping her fingers in time with her wrist.

Once she was sure of herself, she pulled out and released Vic simultaneously. He kept swaying his hips slightly and she raced to remove her underwear as she had a sinking suspicion that once the vampire saw her exposed hole, he’d be in her.

She rolled the fabric down her legs and off of her ankles, flashing Vic in the process and his eyebrows shot up higher than she’d ever seen. A high-pitched squeal came from him and he dove toward her, knocking her back onto the floor.

Her feet flew up into the air while Vic humped around until he found what he was looking for. It took a few tries and Bailey shouted, “Hold on,” and “careful!” more times than she could count but when the tip of his cock pressed against her, she went silent.

She tucked her lips in and tensed as Vic pressed on, making a sound she’d never heard before—somewhere between a growl and a chirp. Blood and saliva dripped from his mouth as he slowly drew his hips back and then thrust in again. He repeated the same sound, closing his eyes this time in pure bliss.

“Bay-ee…it feel good…” He ground into her. Once, twice, three times with that slower, savoring pace. She was probably gripping him too tightly because of her nerves as well and his usual frantic bucking wasn’t quite possible.

“I…yeah?” Bailey gulped and then grabbed the back of Vic’s arms. She’d watched him through orgasm many times and felt quite close to him in that regard but she’d never this close to him. Ignoring the fact that he was inside of her, they barely ever held each other in such a way.

“Good…good…” Vic groaned and pushed his hips down faster. Each thrust had him moaning and grumbling some variant of her name or how good he felt.

It helped Bailey relax and her legs spread a little easier. “You’re good too, Vic,” she said and moved her hands to hold his back, She could feel his shoulder blades through the sweater and how his muscles tensed and flexed with each thrust.

In and out, he almost returned to his normal speed and his need for release was back in full force. He had her pinned to the ground, rutting into her pussy clumsily but intoxicatingly.

“Oh fuck!” Bailey shouted when he started to really pound into her and ram against her G-spot. Maybe he wasn’t a well experienced lover but he got there eventually and once he realized it felt good for Bailey, he continued to try to replicate it.

“Good!? Good?! Bay-ee like?”

“Bailey like!” she screamed as her legs shot into the air, beginning to tremble with an oncoming orgasm. “Bailey fucking love! Oh God! Oh fuck! Vic keep going! Keep fucking me! Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Don’t fucking stop!”

Vic was great at taking direction and he began to hump like mad, shrieking in pleasure himself but more focused on doing what Bailey asked. He hammered his cock into her until she saw nothing but white and maybe she screamed but she honestly couldn’t hear anything for a solid few seconds.

All she knew was that her body had ascended and she was floating somewhere magical far, far away from earth.

Then, she felt warm liquid seeping out from her vagina and she realized that Vic had cum inside of her. He was now whimpering and slowly thrusting, mixing together his cum with hers. If he had another round left in him, Bailey wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle it. She’d be at his mercy with how exhausted she was but, perhaps, he was just as tired too.

“Bay-ee,” Vic moaned and stayed lodged deep within her. He pushed himself up on his palms and stared down at her, almost apologetic. “Bay-ee love…It loves Bay-ee.”

Bailey’s vision blurred and this time not because she was in the throes of passion. Hot tears welled up in her eyes and she clung to Vic, holding him tight. “I love you too, Vic. I don’t care what anyone thinks—I love you!”

The half-eaten corpse in the room was beginning to smell but Bailey cared for nothing besides Vic. She kissed his stained lips, careful not to cut herself on his fangs, and let a few of her tears fall.

If the reason she’d struck out so much in her love life was because Vic was destined to be her partner then she couldn’t possibly mourn all the lonely years she’d faced until now. Her teenage self might not have had an almost seven-foot, bald, semi-human in mind when she expected to one day be in love with a vampire but she was right to fantasize about the possibility—no, the inevitability.

Bailey always knew it would happen and now she had her very own man of the night.

#my writing #erotica anthology #unedited #dont look at me like that

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j-graysonlibrary · 7 months ago

Text

Alan's Ghost Stories

Synopsis: In a world where every sex act sees money appearing in the bank, a man discovers that ghosts are real after a long night with a phantom and a hefty deposit in his bank the next morning.

For as long as anyone could remember, wherever sex was involved, so was money. Not in terms of sex work or even the dirty underbelly of high society but in quite the literal sense. Any two (or more) persons who performed sex act, to completion, were met with money in their possession.

Reports of this phenomenon didn’t become mainstream until banks were invented and such a thing was more easily tracked and the public’s normalization of it happened fast. Now, there were still a few people without bank accounts but, for the most part, these sexual rewards came in the form of deposit notifications.

Sex work still existed—clients would often pay some percentage of what they would expect to receive in their own account for the service and the professional would get their due, plus the payment. Naturally, those who fucked more often had more income to spare and those who were averse to sex suffered because of it.

Some government assistance programs were developed for those celibate few—whatever their reasons may be—but it didn’t quite bridge the gap between the two classes.

The average person, as expected, fit somewhere between the two extremes and would gain some passive income through sex but would see dry spells here and there. Really, the sex spoils weren’t on most peoples’ minds unless they were genuinely hard up for cash or they discovered an unexpected bank deposit in the account they shared with their spouse.

However, it was definitely on Alan’s mind as he lay supine and half awake in his somewhat new and very warm apartment. The move had taken quite a lot of his funds and the landlord had neglected to tell him that the air conditioning was busted until he signed the lease (only then offering a very unenthused promise to get it fixed as soon as possible). Luckily, that expense was out of his hands but his cats’ vet bills were, very much, his problem.

They were both senior boys—two fluffy joys that had been with Alan since he was a teenager and they were now riddled with arthritis and gastrointestinal issues. Since the move, they’d been opting to sleep in the living room instead of in the bed with him as the living room had the one functional ceiling fan in the entire unit.

Alan didn’t blame them for abandoning him for a taste of cool air. He nearly considered getting up and joining them but not only would the sofa be too crowded in that case but he was already comfortable. Warm, sure, but comfortable.

His eyes, heavy with the desire to sleep, drifted to his ceiling where the fan sat motionless—it’s motor busted and needing replacement. Had Alan not broken up with his partner, he could have invited them over for a few rounds in the sack and then he’d bypass his landlord and just grab a ceiling fan from the home improvement store. Whatever he had left over, he’d put towards his cats’ health.

With a twitchy feeling in his fingers, he deeply considered texting them but it was too late and he knew how a message at this hour would be received. Technically, they wouldn’t be wrong to see it in that light but he had some shame and didn’t want to appear desperate—for the money or the company.

After all, they’d broken up for a reason.

Somehow, the night got hotter so Alan threw his blanket to the side, laying bare to the world across his bed with a thin sheen of sweat across his entire body. His bronze skin was already covered in enough hair anyway with the densest sections being on his legs, chest, and pubis. His head, too, of course, although some of that was starting to thin as he approached his mid-thirties.

He could feel the beads of sweat catch in his body hair with only a few droplets slipping through and running down his sides. With the back of his hand, he pressed against his hairline and sighed out.

Usually, there was a cold chill or two that came through while he was in bed. Sometimes, it was sudden and drastic enough to wake him—even to the point where he’d have to pull his blanket back over—but it seemed he was out of luck on this night.

Being hot made it ten times harder to sleep.

Alan opened and closed his eyes with intent now, cycling between serious attempts at going to sleep and exhausted despair at still being up. He gulped and glanced to the side, catching movement from the corner of his eye.

It wasn’t unusual, especially late at night, to see shadows creep along the hall or to hear low, heavy footsteps. Since he’d moved in, Alan had been visited by peculiar dreams, all starring the same man in a loose tunic and no pants. He’d chalked it up to the stress of the move and the breakup but, to be honest, he hadn’t really given it too much thought in general.

Besides, the dreams weren’t vivid or long and they tended to fade from his mind minutes after waking.

He could swear he saw the outline of the dream-man close by his door, however, and he was fairly certain he was still awake. His sweat and irritation were proof enough of that.

Then, the cool wind came.

As if the air conditioning suddenly came to life—silent yet strong—and blew through his room, his sweat was instantly chilled and he shivered on reflex. Even his jaw clenched, threatening to chatter if the current kept up.

Unlike in his dreams, the figure didn’t fade out of sight but, instead, faded in. The more Alan stared, the more of him he could see and the colder he got. His nipples perked up as the man floated toward the foot of his bed, lightly glowing around the edges as if illuminated from the inside.

He was rather short, with shoulder length hair that waved and curled at the ends. His tunic just came to his mid-thigh and one of the shoulders slipped off, showing a defined clavicle. Alan sized him up and down, figuring he was about his age if maybe a bit younger on account of his doe-like eyes and fresh face.

When they looked at each other, the figure asked the same thing he always did in the dreams but, this time, Alan could really hold onto his voice without slipping away.

“Who are you?”

It was typically then, at the sound of those words, that Alan would jolt up in his bed, covered in cold sweat and a little confused. This time, he just continued to stare, trying to get his mouth to catch up to his mind.

“Ah…um…” he struggled and then gulped hard, the sound echoing through the room. “Alan,” he finally answered and the phantom drew closer.

The temperature dropped even more and Alan reached for his blanket only to have it pulled away by some unseen force. His eyes darted to it and then back to the figure in front of him.

“Did you do that?” he asked but received no answer.

Instead, the man kept questioning him, “What are you doing in my apartment?”

When Alan considered he was speaking to a ghost, he almost fainted then and there but the idea that this was simply an incredibly detailed dream crossed his mind and that brought him some relief. He was even able to play along with more gusto.

“It’s my apartment now. I pay the rent—do you?”

The ghost’s big eyes blinked. Alan wasn’t close enough to know for sure, but he felt like they were brown—maybe with a speck of honey.

“I…yes…?” His confusion was palpable and he looked around. As he began to fidget with his hands, he said, “I was just waiting for someone to arrive. I had a date…but then…I don’t remember…”

Had he died while waiting for his date? Was that why he was only wearing a big tunic with, presumably, nothing underneath? Maybe it was the date who killed him?

Just as Alan was beginning to head down a rather tragic line of thought, the ghost brought his attention back with an unexpected declaration.

“Oh, it’s you..!” He chuckled, bashfully, and appeared relieved. “You were messing with me. I see…so um…”

When his eyes traveled south, Alan was reminded that he was stark naked—a fact that had, somehow, slipped his mind entirely. He hadn’t felt so embarrassed in ages but, somehow, when the ghost man eyed him with so lewdly, he couldn’t help but blush.

“Well I um…” Alan fought for words and sat up, trying a little too late to cover himself by folding his knee up, close to his chest. His entire hog had been on display and the ghost had certainly seen it all yet he wanted to pretend he had something to hide still. “What, ah, what was your name again?” His voice pinched at the end, almost breaking as if he was going through puberty.

“Henry,” his answer was swift with a sweet inflection.

“Right…Henry…” Alan gulped again and he scooted back on his bed, both excited and nervous. “What, exactly, did we discuss before? I think you should remind me…”

Henry bit down on his lower lip, smiled, and then glanced to the side. “I can show you, Alan.”

Hearing the ghost say his name made his spine chill in a way he wasn’t expecting. Alan let his guard down again, lowering his knee and no longer trying to hide in shame. His cock twitched in interest as Henry passed into the bed, between his legs.

He couldn’t imagine how this would go but the icy cold touch of the ghost’s hands should have been expected. Alan nearly flinched in response but he kept still in the end, not wanting to ruin things. Henry was zeroed in on his cock though he had yet to touch it—he’d only grazed Alan’s leg as he positioned himself.

When his fingers did trace along the length of his shaft, the cold chill was joined by an almost electric current. A fierce tingling shot through Alan’s body, vibrating especially through his genitals. To say it was the quickest he’d ever gone from half-mast to fully erect would be an understatement. He almost lost consciousness due to the flow of blood so quickly shooting south.

Henry’s tingling hand wrapped around the girth and started to pump, not fading through him at all. His thumb swirled over his tip, pressing against his urethra’s slit with precision and purpose. He made a few circular passes, humming lowly, until he asked in a sultry tone, “Does that feel good?”

Feel good? Alan thought with his eyes already rolling into the back of his head. It felt like nothing he’d ever experienced before.

The first thing out of his mouth when he parted his lips was a moan but then he managed to answer seriously, “Yeah, yeah that feels good…”

“How about this?” Henry asked and then immediately leaned down to flick his tongue against him. As a ghost, there was no moisture but the pointed muscle held even more of an electrical charge behind it. Alan threw his head back and groaned, causing Henry to snicker in delight. “Want some more? Want me to suck you?”

“Please,” Alan gasped and held on, tight, to his bed sheets. “Suck my cock—I wanna see your big eyes looking up at me while you gag on it.”

It must have been exactly what Henry wanted to hear because he let out a small whimper before he complied—not that he needed the coaxing. His lips went to Alan’s dick and licked up the sides of his shaft, suckling and kissing, until he came back to the head.

There, he sucked on his tip for an excruciatingly long time, looking only at his work ahead of him and humming in the back of his throat. Alan almost came just from that but he steeled himself. He meant it when he said he wanted to see Henry locking eyes with him while he sucked him off and he wouldn’t orgasm until he could guarantee his seed would be swallowed—if ghosts could even swallow.

Almost as if sensing his impatience, Henry dipped further down. He opened his mouth wider and, bit by bit, Alan’s cock disappeared into him. Although, if Alan focused, he could nearly make out the outline of his erection through Henry’s form. He could see where it curved and touched the back of his throat, teasing his gag reflex and even pushing in to the point he’d actually choke.

The fascination of the sight helped to keep him from blowing his load right away, at least, and Alan was graced with the sight of the sweet ghost’s doe eyes fluttering up at him, swimming with tears that couldn’t be shed, while he bobbed back and forth on his cock. There was still no moisture but it certainly sounded like there was. There was the wet slapping of his erection passing over Henry’s tongue and bruising his throat which was mixed with muffled moans and unintentional gags.

If Alan could have, he would have grabbed the back of Henry’s head, twirled his fingers into his wavy locks, and kept him still while he rocked his hips forward with abandon. He couldn’t he sure he’d be able to hold him and he didn’t want to ruin the paradise he was already in.

Back and forth, Henry sucked and steadily began to fuck his own throat with Alan’s cock. The tip bulged in his neck and Alan could see through him and just how much of him was inside of the ghost. He’d never before considered how much space he took up inside a person but now that he could see it, he was beginning to get a big head about it—he was sort of huge.

Henry’s gagging and choking intensified but he never looked away from Alan, not even as Alan started to tremble and groan, feeling his end approach. “Oh fuck,” he started to curse, stringing together “fucks” and “shits” with no discernable meaning between them.

His hips bucked up on their own, meeting Henry’s very full mouth, no doubt stabbing the back of his throat but he took it like a champion. He barely even flinched when Alan came in full force, shouting, “fuck!”

The electrical tingling dissipated as Henry pulled away from him. He wiped his mouth but didn’t look away while Alan caught his breath. His mind spun and he barely had time to marinate in what happened before his ghostly partner was climbing to straddle his lap.

“Was it everything you’d hoped for?” he asked, his voice hoarse and raspy from the abuse it just took.

Alan was trying to configure his answer when Henry grabbed his hands, brought them under his over-sized tunic, and set them onto his bare chest. Just as the ghost could touch him without slipping through, so too could Alan put his hands on his translucent form and stay put. He wished he’d known for sure earlier but he couldn’t exactly complain with how the night had turned out.

“I…yeah,” he breathed out and began to rub and flick at Henry’s nipples, taking heed of his nonverbal cues.

Immediately, his partner bit down on his lip and closed his eyes. He moaned and brought his hands up to his hair, pulling it up, off of his neck, and then letting it go again.

“Can you take this shirt off?” Alan asked, moving his thumbs in opposite directions of each other.

“Yeah,” Henry answered but didn’t physically remove it. Instead, the tunic just sort of disappeared, as if it had never been on him in the first place.

Alan blinked a couple of times but rolled with it. He took in Henry’s petite built with renewed appreciation, finding small patches of hair across his chest and down his stomach that he could see even in the dim light of his ethereal glow.

His index fingers joined his thumbs, pinching and twisting the ghost’s perky nipples until he pulled a soft yelp from him.

“You like that, huh?” Alan guessed with a smirk as Henry’s cock doubled in size.

“Mmmnn…yeah,” he breathed out, his eyelids drooping with desire.

Dropping one hand to his erection, Alan began to multitask. With his left hand he flicked Henry’s nipple and with his right, he started to poke and prod at his cock. He gave him a few shallow pumps and then, with his own passion rising back to the occasion, he got a little ahead of himself and groped Henry’s ass. He slipped his middle finger between his cheeks and found his hole, emitting a strong tingling pulse.

He wanted—no, needed—to shove his cock in there.

Despite there being no lubrication, Henry still opened up for him. He gasped in surprise, sure, but his asshole was more than happy to accept Alan’s finger.

“Ah! Alan…! I…”

“I’ll get you ready,” he said, intuiting what his partner wanted to say.

“Be gentle,” Henry whined, already pushing back against him.

Alan sent his other hand back there to help, spreading him apart. Since he could see through him, it was much simpler and fascinating as well to prepare him. He groped and fondled with his left hand and added a second finger with his right, probing and circling, finding where all of Henry’s sweet spots were.

“You like that?” he asked when a particular motion drew a moan from his partner.

“Mhm.” Henry kept his lips tucked in, as if afraid of the noises he’d let out when Alan started to thrust his fingers into him. He didn’t get to maintain his dignity for long, however, as his hold slipped up and he yelled, “Ughn! Ugh!” with each stroke.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Alan coaxed him, more than ready to enter him. “You gonna whimper like that when it’s my cock in you?”

Henry closed his eyes tight as he answered, “I wish it was your cock already!”

That was enough for Alan. He withdrew his fingers and held his partner open, allowing him the privilege of guiding his erection to his hole. As soon as his head pushed in, all of his sense left him and Alan was groaning like a decade long itch was finally being scratched.

Once fully seated, he could see his dick inside of Henry, resting fully in the center of him, pushing up into his guts. His eyelids fluttered and he fell back onto his pillows, overcome by the tightness and the tingling. It was as if his cock was surrounded by small vibrators, at the highest intensity. If it didn’t feel so divine, it might have been painful.

“You’re so big,” Henry gasped as he slowly began to lift up, only to push back down and moan. “It’s like you’re filling all of me. I’m more you than me…”

“It’s because your ass is so little,” Alan said and slapped his right cheek for emphasis, earning a sharp squeak. He chuckled under his breath and asked, “I won’t break you in half, will I?”

Henry adamantly shook his head. “I can take it. I can take you.”

“Show me then,” Alan didn’t skip a beat, “Show me how well you can take my cock.”

He started to thrust slowly, carefully, but with determination. Just as he’d taken control when he’d deep-throated Alan, he was taking control here as well. He’d fuck himself, thank you very much, but he was much more bashful now than he was with his mouth full.

It must have felt intense for him too, Alan spared a thought as Henry whimpered, lips trembling, and picked up the pace. He, himself, could hardly move because if he did he worried the electrical tingling would worsen. Then, he’d cum in seconds, leaving Henry high and dry.

So he remained on his back, watching the spectacle of the ghostly man lift and then lower himself onto his shaft with staccato breaths. The faster he went, the more desperate he became, clearly chasing that burgeoning orgasm.

“Fuck,” the curse slipped out of Henry’s lips as he slammed his hips down against Alan. “Fuck me…”

He couldn’t help himself—Alan started to hump upward, meeting him a quarter of the way. “Yeah?” he asked and then praised, “You’re doing such a good job—taking my cock so well…”

The added motion nearly bucked Henry off-course but he fought back, grinding down even harder, yelping in the process. “You bet I am. I told you so!” His breaths came faster, harder. He was barely holding on. “Gimme all you got! Fuck me—!”

So Alan did, as best as he could from his position. He pounded up against into Henry’s hole and they both howled in pleasure. The bed squeaked and shook underneath them to the point Alan, perhaps, should have been concerned but the only thing on his mind was release and making Henry call out his name.

“How’s that?” Alan asked, gripping him by the hips and bearing up into him, draining his own energy rather quickly. He was so close though that he didn’t care. “Come on, Henry! I’m gonna cum, but you gotta—”

“Fuck! Alan! Fuck!” Henry screamed and orgasmed, triggering Alan to cum inside of him. Everything went white and right after the all-encompassing release there was numbness.

Then, nothing.

Alan awoke with a start, coated in cold sweat, sprawled out naked over his sheets. The sun was pooling in from his window, letting him know the morning was upon him, but he couldn’t get his mind off of his dream. It clung to him as he sat up and looked down at his lap.

A partly dried, sticky mess greeted him and he sighed under his breath. What was he, a teenager? He’d had plenty of sex dreams as an adult but not many of them turned out to be wet ones. Although, his dream man—or dream ghost—was really something else.

Since he didn’t have work until later in the evening, Alan dedicated his morning to cleaning up and doing some more unpacking. He’d been slowly hacking away at the boxes for a few weeks now and, while he could see the light at the end of the tunnel, he wasn’t about to get his hopes up too high thinking he could finish before the first rent payment.

His two senior cats circled around his legs as he pulled out decorative nonsense from the box labeled “Kitchen stuff?” and he nearly kicked one of them by accident, earning himself a harsh cussing-out via meowing.

“Sorry!” he exclaimed, hiding his laugh, “But you can clearly see me walking. You don’t want to get kicked, do you?”

At that, both of them meowed and stared up at him with expectant faces. It was only then that he realized the decorative bowl in his hand had them thinking they were about to be fed.

So, he made them lunch and then put together a ham sandwich for himself. As he sat at the crowded dining table, he checked his bank statement to see if his most recent paycheck had posted or not. If so, he was considering a quick grocery run before he had to get ready for work.

There was no payment from his job but, curiously, there was a $1,000 deposit. His brows scrunched together as he checked for further information.

Sexual deposits never had sender information but they did come with the exact time of the “transaction”. 1:27 AM—Alan had stopped restlessly checking his clock at around 1 AM…

His throat started to close and he didn’t blink. Masturbation wasn’t counted when it came to the sexual deposits and neither were wet dreams—he jerked off plenty and knew that well enough. Only acts performed with at least one other person, until climax, would earn money.

$400 per orgasm and an extra $200 for each time a partner finished. While those numbers tended to be a bit uneven and unfair, they shined a bright light on Alan’s supposed dream.

He moved quickly from his bank app to an internet forum—there was no one in his real life he could possibly tell this story too, even if he had the hard evidence to prove it. The potential follow up questions of why he’d been so ready and willing to fuck a stranger—a dead stranger at that—were too uncomfortable to face.

So, he used the anonymity of the internet and typed everything up, sharing his bank information with his details redacted. He wasn’t sure how it would be received and, frankly, he didn’t care all that much. He just needed it out of his system before he exploded from trying to hold it in.

He had sex with a ghost.

And it was probably the best sex of his life.

***

Days passed and not only did the incident not repeat itself but Alan had almost forgotten about it due to how chaotic things were at work. He had, however, used the money he got from that night to take his cats to the vet only to discover that his oldest of the two needed a surgery that would cost him a few thousand dollars at best.

He was juggling a few ideas in his head—taking out a loan, calling his ex for some marathon sex, or going on a hook-up app to see if he could snag a few partners without getting too intimate.

His thumb scrolled over his screen aimlessly and he barely noticed when a notification popped up at the top. Only because of the bright color of the icon did he look up and he saw it was a direct message from that forum he posted on.

Arching his eyebrow, he opened the forum again and found the message right at the top. “Hello xGhost-Partnerxy0912, my name is Reggie and I run a ghost hunting team out of the tri-state area. My team and I found your story and, while some people doubt the authenticity of your post, we are believers. Email us directly and we can talk about an idea we have—you’ll be compensated, I assure you.”

Alan checked the user’s profile and quickly found an onslaught of paranormal posts and promotional posters for the Tri-state Ghoul Troop. They, at least, were a real group and not some online scam though he hesitated to call them legitimate.

He glanced to the side, at his oldest cat who locked eyes with him and then he opened up a new email with the Ghoul Troop’s address already attached. It was simple, to the point, but kept the desperation for money to a minimum.

“This is xGhostPartnerxy0912 concerning the message left on my post. I’m curious about this idea you have but I’d like more details before I agree to anything.”

Not even a full five minutes passed before he got a reply.

“Thank you for the outreach! It’s really simple, actually! We’ll meet with you, get to know more about your situation, and then take you to a known haunted location. If you’re as good at communicating with ghosts as it seems, this should be simple for you. All you have to do is perform at least one sex act with a ghost, on camera, and we’ll be able to prove definitively that ghosts are real when the money comes into your account.”

The idea was insane. They were asking him to be in amateur porn—amateur ghost porn at that! But that would at least be $400 plus whatever they were planning on compensating him with. If it turned out to be anything like his night with Henry, he’d be well on his way to paying for his cat’s surgery.

He felt a rush of a adrenaline spike through him as he typed back, “Deal. When can we meet?”

The Tri-state Ghoul Troop was made up of two men and one woman. Reggie was the leader, Stan was the skeptic, and Alexa was the medium although her experiences were rather placid and could be easily brushed aside. Her jealousy toward Alan was palpable when they met but she was equally curious about what it had been like to be so close with a ghost.

He’d pretty much laid it all bare in his forum post but he went over it again with them over coffee, feeling rather shy with three sets of stranger’s eyes on him. He had to remind himself that they would, potentially, be watching him fuck again so he needed to get used to it.

By the end of the evening, Alan was somewhat comfortable with them and even followed the Troop to an abandoned hotel. Funnily enough, Alan actually recognized it from a ghost hunting show he used to watch as a kid—according to that old program, the hotel was one of the most haunted spots in the state.

“How many ghosts do you want me to fuck?” he asked, getting a surprised laugh from the Troop.

Stan, at least, tried to stifle it and Alexa covered her mouth but Reggie threw his head back and roared. He was, also, the only one to actually answer him.

“Just one—she’s real finicky but she’s also the only ghost here to ever be captured on film. In the sixties, someone managed to snap a picture and she was in the corner. Of course, skeptics think it could be a lens flare.”

“It looks fake,” Stan said, sounding more serious now.

“Well, maybe that picture was but tonight we’re getting solid proof,” Alexa chimed in, sure of herself. Or sure of Alan, rather.

He hadn’t worried about what would happen if no ghosts showed up until then. So far, he’d been mostly concerned with the sex in front of strangers and a camera part but, out of the blue, he was hit with the fear of failure.

“What’s the ghost’s name?” Alan asked, hoping that a personal connection would help his case.

“Susanna,” Reggie said with a smile. He looked Alan up and down and then added, “She was betrothed to a man but she was fickle even with him. She’d often run away or pick fights with him only to return and act smitten. A similar pattern of behavior has been experienced by other ghost hunting teams.”

“She tends to pick a favorite and tease him all night,” Alexa added and winked. “Hopefully you’re her type.”

Alan hoped so as well, for the success of the project and for his hurting bank account. He kept that to himself, however, and silently followed behind the team as they walked into the building. There was an ominous presence inside—the kind of feeling that comes with being a place you know you’re not supposed to be. It didn’t seem to bother the Troop but Alan shuddered all by himself.

The cameras took some time to set up and an extra pair was planted in Susanna’s room where Alan would be staying. He was told to be on the lookout for spots of light, distant music-box sounds, and soft slaps to the face.

At least Stan would be watching and reachable by an ear piece but the other two could be summoned too if Alan felt like he was in any danger. So far, the only thing he felt was a cold chill similar to how his apartment would get before Henry appeared.

His eyes darted around the room and he asked, “Can you see anything, Stan?”

The answer came directly in his ear, popping and crackling at first before leveling out, “Ah, nothing yet. Why, are you feeling a presence?”

“Not especially. I was just curious.” Alan gulped and then followed up with, “Should I take my shirt off or something?”

Stan laughed in his ear and then offered a weak, “Maybe?”

Not wanting to waste time when the ghost did show up, Alan went ahead and unbuttoned his shirt. He tossed it to the side and craned his head about the dim room. Only a few candles were lit, for his convenience, but shadows still dominated the corners and the furthest wall from the bed.

And it was from there that a paper-white wisp floated into view. Alan snapped to it right away and held his breath as it grew bigger and bigger. A woman’s shape emerged with her hair loose and flowing down to her mid-back. She wore only a sheer nightgown that showed off much of her body. Through it, Alan could see her breasts quite distinctly as well as the dark mass of pubic hair between her legs.

“Susanna?” he questioned with a hitch in his voice.

Immediately, he heard the entire Troop chime in over his earpiece. “She’s there?!” they each shouted, clamoring over each other until they, presumably, had all eyes on his room’s cameras.

“My God,” he heard Reggie say distinctly, “She’s really there!”

Alan did his best to ignore them, especially as Susanna looked down at him from her floating vantage point. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s rude for a man to enter a lady’s room uninvited? And who are you? You seem to know my name but I’ve never seen you around before.”

“My name is Alan and I’m sorry but the door was open.” He pointed to it. “I, um, I heard you were tired of your betrothed so I came to find you. We could have fun…if you’re interested.”

Hitting on a ghost was not a skill he’d had practice in but he hoped showing interest would be all that it took. After all, the woman was known for being flirtatious and perusing men. Maybe she would appreciate being the one chased for once in her afterlife?

Susanna grinned and replied, “Why, aren’t you direct? I appreciate a man who doesn’t waste time.”

Alan mentally sighed out and he relaxed some of the muscles in his shoulders. In his ear, he heard the frantic but excited whisperings of the Ghoul Troop.

Oh right, he remembered, he’d have to fuck in front of them.

He took his pants off while Susanna performed the same trick that Henry had and made her nightgown simply disappear. Her nipples were already erect and she cupped her breasts with her hands, tracing a finger over those pink buttons, making herself suck in air through her teeth.

“Well don’t just stare,” she told Alan, letting him know that he’d been gawking.

“Right,” he said, clearing his throat after. He walked closer to her and took a breast in each hand. There was weight to them and, most importantly, that tingling sensation was there with her too. Alan hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it until it was shooting through his limbs again, sparking off of his flesh.

“Holy shit,” Stan said in his ear, sounding more excited about the free show than the existence of ghosts.

Alan kept his focus on Susanna as he kneaded her breasts, pushing his thumbs against her nipples and then lightly scratching. Her eyes were closed and she practically swayed from side to side, moaning softly and smiling.

“Like this?” Alan asked her and she nodded. He thought about the extra money he could get by making her orgasm several times and that thought took him down to his knees.

Once his hands left her chest, she opened her eyes and watched him. “What are you—?” she didn’t get to finish once Alan’s finger found her clit. “Oh!” she cried and parted her legs, giving him better access.

“At least he knows where it is,” Alexa mumbled, breaking her silence and getting a few chuckles from the other two.

“Are you going to eat her out?” Stan asked, hopefully not expecting a reply.

Reggie cut in before Alan would have had a chance to speak anyway, “I hope he does. I want to know what ghost pussy tastes like.”

Nothing, really. Alan stretched his tongue out and curled it back along her lips and toward her clit. There was a faint taste, in the way that odors can linger after their source has been removed, but it wasn’t anything he could pin down. Slightly salty, maybe, but otherwise unremarkable and, like with Henry, not moist at all.

Alan’s own spit was the only thing he tasted after taking a few licks and sucking against her. He pushed his thumb into her vagina as he lapped up and down, pulling a few whimpers from his partner. She clutched him by the back of his head, holding him in place as she occasionally twitched, hips first.

To get her there quickly, Alan focused on her clit alone although he kept his thumb in her, helping to open her up for what would come next. With his free hand, he spread pussy apart and latched onto her clit, sucking with fervor. Susanna screamed at the top of her lungs, shaking in his grasp as if the ground was literally coming apart underneath her.

“Mercy! Mercy! My God!”

Based on her hips’ movements alone, Alan could guess she’d cum. He pulled his thumb out of her and stood up just in time to have her collapse into his arms. While he wasn’t sure how he was capable of holding a ghost, he didn’t stop to question it and just moved them to the bed.

Susanna didn’t fall through once her back made contact and she didn’t stop Alan from pushing her knees apart either. In fact, she looked up at him through heavy-hooded eyelids and threw her arms up over her head.

“He’s good,” Stan commented.

“He’s got the $200 dollars. We’ve done it…” Reggie sounded almost flabbergasted. “Alan you can wrap it up; we have everything we need.”

“Shhh, let him continue,” both Stan and Alexa scolded.

Alan wasn’t able to completely tune them out but he didn’t let their talking or heavy breathing distract him from his partner. “Are you ready for me, Susanna?” he asked, pushing her legs up and out, folding her in two.

She just barely nodded her head. “Take me,” she instructed.

With just a little resistance, Alan pushed the tip of his cock into her. That electrical tingling surged all around him and he watched with the same level of fascination as before as the outline of his member snaked through her vaginal canal and toward her uterus. It just came to the cervix, threatening to push through.

Susanna’s head rolled back and she grunted, tensing somewhat. “God help me,” she whispered, “take me slowly.”

Alan was careful with his thrusts and kept them, by her request, slow but not sluggish. He relished each push inward as the tingling prickled the sides of his cock and her insides squeezed deliciously. His breath, mixed with her lustful sighs, was joined by occasional gasps and moans from the ear piece. Alan had to wonder if the Ghoul Troop were enjoying his show a little more than expected or if they had started to fuck each other in solidarity.

As he gently fucked Susanna he was tempted to kiss her—the position they were in would make it easy as long as he leaned down far enough. Her face, all screwed up in a lewd expression, was very enticing. Just as he made the decision to try it, he heard a voice come from behind him and definitely not from his ear.

“What are you doing to my Susanna, boy?” a man, probably not that much older than Alan himself, appeared from the same wall that Susanna had.

Alan stopped pumping and glanced over his shoulder. “Wha…?”

Susanna shouted, “Marty?!” She pulled herself up by clutching to Alan’s shoulders but she didn’t disconnect them at all. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d come check in on you—make sure you weren’t playing no games.” The bearded man glanced between them and scowled. “I see I was right to worry.”

“Oh shit!” Reggie cursed from over the ear piece. “I didn’t think Marty would show up!”

“Get out of there Alan!” Alexa shouted.

But Alan was quite literally stuck inside of Susanna and, beyond that, he was a tad curious as to where this was all headed anyway. Would Marty fight him? Was he at risk of being hurt—truly hurt?

“Well if you bedded me half as well then maybe I wouldn’t need to look elsewhere,” Susanna snapped at her suitor and then started to fuck herself on Alan. “Let’s keep going, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, keep going,” Stan was with Susanna, “We’ll monitor from here—you’ll be fine.”

Alan fell back over the top of Susanna and started to buck his hips a little faster, matching her desperation, while she glared daggers at Marty.

“That’s it,” Marty grumbled and Alan felt the cold air shift behind him but he was too plugged into Susanna that he didn’t check again. He simply kept humping, ignorant to what was happening elsewhere.

Until Reggie came through with a concerned, “Ummm…Alan…”

“Oh! He’s—” Alexa tried to say something but she was too slow.

As Alan pulled back from Susanna, his hips were caught and two fingers were pressed against his hole. He gasped in surprise and Susanna fidgeted underneath him. “What are you doing, Marty?!” she demanded.

“You want some fun with him? Maybe I do too—see if you’ll like him as much now!”

In an instant, Alan was filled with the electrical static charge in a much more solid, defined way. His hole stretched and welcomed in the entirety of Marty’s dick or at least most of it. Alan was proven terribly wrong when he pushed all the way in and he could feel the deep, almost stabbing sensation running all through his gut.

He wasn’t sure what noise he made but it certainly wasn’t dignified and he lost focus for a moment. Only when Marty pulled out did he breath but that was short lived as he rammed back into him right after.

“Fuck!” Alan fell forward, cushioned by Susanna’s body. She kept her arms around him and a fire was lit behind her eyes.

“This is ridiculous!” She repositioned herself and cupped Alan’s face with her hands. “Sweetheart, take me again and don’t stop no matter what he does. Let’s just ignore him.”

Part of that he could do. Alan re-entered her and she even helped him out by holding onto her own ankles. Thrusting in and out of her was easy now but much of his motions were dictated by Marty who was not at all interested in anything but his own satisfaction.

Ignoring him, as Susanna suggested, was simply out of the question. His cock was massive and he railed against Alan’s prostate repeatedly—intentionally or not. Every thrust inward shoved Alan further into Susanna and, essentially, Marty was fucking her through him.

He was entirely out of control and the tingling sensation ate him up out of both ends. It was so poignant yet he couldn’t cum despite how desperately he wanted to. “Please, fuck, oh fuck, pleeeaaase!” Alan whimpered and begged, being used like a fuck toy by the two of them.

Drool dripped from his lips as his body was ravaged, humped savagely and gripped with large, domineering hands. He’d never before experienced giving and receiving pleasure simultaneously and he’d certainly never been so close to release and so desperate for it that he’d started to wildly yell.

His voice was a stranger to himself, cursing, yelping, wailing, pleading—all while he did whatever he could to move his body on his own to get himself to a climax.

Susanna came first, shouting “LORD YES!” while Alan continued to pump into her, courtesy of Marty. The jealous ghost took him to task, grunting and grabbing handfuls of his ass while staring at Susanna with red hot passion.

“Look at him; he’s mine now!” Marty growled and fucked him ferociously, making him scream and cum at last. “Oh he loves it! He LOVES it! See?!”

Alan could barely hear anything after the fact as he fell onto the bed and was, finally, released by the both of them. His body became limp and heavy and his eyelids drifted closed while the Ghoul Troop chatted, indistinctly, in his ear.

When he came to, it was maybe an hour later and the ghosts were gone. Three concerned faces stared down at him and a thin blanket lay across his lap. The second he began to stir, Reggie, Stan, and Alexa all took a collective step backward.

“Oh thank God,” Alexa said with a heavy exhale. “We were worried about you.”

“Yeah, you weren’t just asleep—it was like you were knocked out,” Stan added and then brandished a water bottle. “Here, man.”

Alan took it with silent thanks and unscrewed the cap. As he gulped down a mouthful, Reggie asked, “Are you alright?”

He swallowed, nodded his head, and then answered, “Yeah, just exhausted. What happened after I passed out?”

“Well, you got more money into your account and the ghosts both vanished,” Reggie looked from side to side, almost as if he expected them to reappear at the mere mention. “We’ve got more than enough proof now though. And after what you went through—hell, we’ll pay you double.”

That was nice to hear, Alan thought and took another drink. “Thanks,” he barely got out before he was passed his phone. His bank app was still up and he saw the transactions, just as clear as they were with Henry, only now he had witnesses and video evidence.

Although he wasn’t sure he’d, personally, be up for reviewing the footage anytime soon.

More than a little sore but reassuringly richer than when he’d left, Alan returned to his apartment shortly before sunrise. He groggily set his key into the door and turned the lock, letting himself in with a sigh. Only one light was left on, illuminating both of his cats who were sprawled on the sofa, barely caring that he’d been out for hours.

“Hey boys,” Alan said and walked past them, headed for the bedroom. He didn’t plan on sleeping much but he longed for a quick nap.

He stopped in his tracks as soon as passed through the threshold, however, as he was hit with a wall of cold air. No less than ten ghostly forms stood around his bed and, at the forefront, there was Henry grinning and waving. Beside him, Susanna appeared and Marty was close behind her, looking less irate at least but still alarmingly horny.

Alan gulped at the sight of a dozen naked ghosts all ready and waiting for him. He supposed word traveled fast in the afterlife.

#my writing #erotica anthology #unedited #dont look at me like that

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