Don't Stick Your Dick In Crazy Who orders a male stripper for a party at a psychiatric detention facility? Buck isn't one to ask questions though--if he ever wants to fulfill his dream of being a male nurse, he'll need every dollar for school. Unfortunately, once he gets there the staff are dead...and the all-female patients are loose. A building full of women, each with their own psychoses and issues. Some are sweet but disturbed; others are beautiful but deadly. All of them are tired of eating pussy. They want dick...to suck, to fuck, maybe to torture. It's about to be a bad night to be Buck.
Feed Her After much nagging, Marcie has gotten her girlfriend Patricia to agree to do some erotic feeder practice. Nothing too extreme...the athletic young woman would be tied to a chair in her underwear as Marcie force-fed her cookies. A little kinky, but nothing that couldn't be worked off with a week at the gym. Except Marcie has injected a little something into the gooey middle of the cream-filled cookies she's going to cram into her girlfriend's mouth. A formula that the pharmaceutical company she works for has been working on to combat bulimia, designed to increase appetite and aid in weight gain. Marcie has hopes that Patty will get into it, and soon she'll have a big, soft girlfriend to play with... ...but Marcie doesn't know about the side effects that the formula had on the rats it was tested on this morning. The carnage in the cage as the rats started to eat everything...even each other. The terrible strength that the rats showed, the imperviousness to pain as the hunger took hold, eating and eating until their stomachs should have burst... ...and very soon, Patty is going to find her erotic dream scenario turn into a carnal nightmare. Because if she isn't very careful, she might be on the menu.
Anyone else becoming increasingly concerned about the inner workings of Zeebop's mind, or is it just me?
I did say Zeebop would be a good horror writer. Some of the Lois Lane's Night Out branches would feel right at home here.
I'm Dating a Horror Villain A boy or girl dates Leatherface, Michael Myers, the Tall Man, a Xenomorph, Jason Voorhees, Henrietta knowby, one of those Deadites from the pit in Army of Darkness, Evil Ash, Eligos, Freddy Krueger, Pinhead, the Chatterer, the Predator, Chucky, Matt Cordell, Pumpkinhead, Candyman, Ghostface, Albert Wesker, HUNK, Nemesis, Sadako Yamamura, Pyramid Head, the Jigsaw Killer, the Armoured Titan, the Warhammer Titan, the Demogorgon and Negan. Possibly gender swapped versions of them.
It's A Dog's Life It was an ill-worded wish. Jamie had gone to sleep as a shooting star crossed the moon, and thought of her neighbor's pampered pet. Closed her eyes...and woke up the next morning naked in a dog's bed, with a collar on her neck. The strange giants cooed and petted her...fed her...and took her out to the park where she saw other people, naked as she was, with their collars and leashes, running around and playing and... Jamie didn't know if she had gone mad or not. If she was a dog that thought she was a human, or a human being treated like a dog. The Masters...the god-like things that loomed over her...didn't look human. But neither were the other "dogs" in the neighborhood quite human either. They looked like people, but they barked and growled, sniffed and whimpered like animals. None of them responded any differently when she tried to talk to them...and worse, some of the male "dogs" were showing interest. Though she didn't know the Master's language, she heard familiar words in their speech. Words that Jamie suspected meant things like "vet" and "puppies." It's a dog's life for Jamie...and she has no idea what she's going to do. It's Only Rosemary's Baby, Again It was Halloween. Valerie open her eyes, drugged and listless as she stared at the full moon above. Felt the altar stone beneath her, heard the chant start. The robed figures closed in and circled, chanting, invoking dark powers. A chalice was passed over her, pressed against her lips. She sputtered as the harsh liquid ran down her throat. The knife rose...her white shift was cut away...and then there was something, dim, shadowy, and looming with luminous eyes between her legs. She felt it penetrate her... The pregnancy came to fruition with supernatural swiftness. Not long after her violation, Valerie could see the dome of her stomach rising, feel the unholy spawn growing, ready to burst forth. The contractions hit, and the pain grew...a monstrous birth tore her body apart... ...and then Valerie would open her eyes again. Stare at the moon. The ceremony was about to begin. Trapped in an endless loop of defilement and birth, Valerie knows that this time something has to change...something has to be different...but every time she fails, every time she dies, she starts over again...
Always A Bridesmaid, Never A Bride of Satan Lilith was born a Satanist. It's what she grew up with. Yet the Lord of Darkness had never picked her to be the virgin sacrifice. Oh, she'd been the naked altar during the Black Mass, but only when Malefica was out with the chicken pox. She was a little too plain, a little too heavyset. Her mother had encouraged her to get a drug habit, since the other Satanists like the whole cocaine chic look, but no matter how many lines of blow she snorted, Lilith was always relegated to being the fluffer at the annual orgy, the handjob handmaid at the Mass of the Phoenix, the one who warmed up Rosemary's pussy before they conceived the antichrist. So she rebelled...and joined the Immaculate Sisters of the Sacred Heart. Now Sister Lilith is about to have one hell of a hard time.
Bloodbully Mark has had a rough night. Thin, pale, and almost anemic, he's been bullied all his life by both boys and girls. He had hoped that once he went to Transylvania Technical College, things would change - that he would have a chance to reinvent himself, reboot his social life, maybe even date...but there are two little problems. The first is connected to his anemia: because of a vascular when Mark ejaculates, blood is mixed with his semen. The second is connected with his classmates: a cabal of female vampires that learn of his little problem...and plan to take full advantage of it. Mark is about to look back at the days when jocks gave him wedgies and girls pointed and laughed as "the good days." Because the sexy vamps of Transylvania Tech want to drain his dick whenever they want...and if they maximize his embarrassment and how much trouble Mark gets into along the way, all the better.
The Abominable Dr. Tits Something is happening to the men of Honkertown. Something none of them want to talk about openly. A shared secret told in furtive glances as they walk down the bra aisle. None of them go running shirtless anymore. Indeed, for a seaside community that prided itself on its beaches and fun in the sun, the men seem to be keeping covered more and more... ...and some of them wonder about the reason. Maybe it was the crazy Doctor Cassandra Tetons who complained about how sexist the town's annual wet t-shirt contest was. Or the strict ordinance against public nudity that let men go shirtless but not women. Or the charges that had been made that summer against women who breastfed in public. Or perhaps it's just something in the water. Something that makes their shirts grow tighter and their nipples to swell and get more sensitive. Which has been slowly but surely turning their flat pecs into, well... ...there's a reason they call her Dr. Tits. As the growth continues, day after day, letter by letter of the alphabet as they outgrow bras and binders, the men of Honkertown are faced with a crisis. Something has to be done, before they become unable to hide their not-so-little problems anymore. Except the abominable Dr. Tits is just getting started.
Madame Tussaud's Wax Brothel Business has been a little slow. So Henri Tussaud has opened a little side hustle: using his great-grandmother's notebooks, he can make the waxen images move...and, with a little necromancy, instill them with the spirits of the dead celebrities they resemble. While their bodies are still wax, they look like flesh and blood so long as the black candles burn. A brothel which can cater to anyone with a desire for historical whores. Want to fuck Margaret Thatcher in the ass? Or see if Nancy Reagan really was the throat goat? Give Mama Cass something else to choke on? Or live out your Marilyn Monroe fantasy? All for a price. The best part is, no one can get pregnant, catch a disease, and the wax dummies can even be torn apart and the next night Tussaud just has to light a candle and they'll be good as new. It was a nice little racket...until Henri accepted a lucrative special request from a very special client...
I'm thinking up lyrics for a story relevant song, bout spanking or some other theme, most especially the specific brat, by name in the song (one such variable). Perhaps certain locations or times or whatever could be variables as well, but the main theme now.. It's like "Now she has no pants at the Halloween dance" at the very start, like the I Am Weasel theme song, but I don't want it to end in the word spanking, (I uncharacteristically feel a shade more subtle) tho I want it to match the tones of "because Baboon's better than Weasel" "Her bright red butt is being displayed
Orgy of the Dead Some stereotypes have a degree of truth to them. Some people joked that Dwayne, a morgue attendant who worked late, cared more for his "patients" than the living. Even his girlfriend would tease him about "cracking open a cold one." Dwayne would smile and chuckle...but the truth was...he never felt quite so alive as when he was busting a nut in the corpse of a prom queen who had been decapitated when her drunken boyfriend had hit the lamp post and sent her flying through the windshield; and while he needed viagra to keep up with his warm-blooded girlfriend, he had no problem getting hard as he buggered the corpse of the 70-year-old librarian who had suffered a heart attack in the stacks. It was an uneasy balance, indulging in his taboo passion without being caught...and then...someone new arrived on the scene. Hester was a goth...and a witch...and her passion for the dead rivaled his own. It became an uneasy balance in the morgue, as they recognized one another for what they were. Dwayne feared her reckless necrophilia would lead to the authorities discovering them both. One midnight, he went to confront her... ...and accidentally interrupted a ritual. Then they were trapped, those two necrophiles, as the corpses around them shuddered and rose into unholy unlife...and the corpses they had violated were determined now to return their terrible passions. Dwayne and Hester were about to be fucked in...the Orgy of the Dead.
The Portrait of Dorathea Gray As a present for her nineteenth birthday, Dorathea Gray's parents had commissioned a portrait. Day after day she had sat in the library, when the light streamed through the windows, so that the artist could capture her in the flower of her beauty...and after each session, when they were sure her parents would not interrupt them, Dorathea and the artist would play. It had started innocently enough...she noticed the bulge in his trousers and teased him about it. But soon she was anything except innocent, and one of their "sessions" was not truly complete until he had emptied himself inside of her. Then the portrait was finished, and Dorathea saw no more of the painter...but there was something about the portrait which her parents did not like, as the months wore on. For while Dorathea remained as young and innocent-looking as ever, there was a definite swell in the midriff of her portrait...and some alchemy of sunlight and atmosphere was causing a white liquid to come out over her face. Not wishing to share these alarming changes with their daughter and no longer fit for display, they had it put up in the attic...while Dorathea continued on her way, never aging, never changing, enjoying her life without fear or consequence. Until, perhaps, one day she recalled the portrait up in the attic and wished to look at it again...
Big Troubles in Sore Gap Sore Gap is a little town that occupies a pass in the Rocky Mountains - catering to travelers that want gas, fast food, and a little roadside diversion. Normally quiet and sleepy, the town has recently developed big problems...all of the men have become obsessed with penis-enlargening pills. Normally that wouldn't be much of a problem...except they work. Now, wives are girlfriends are finding there isn't a man in town who is smaller than nine inches long and as thick as their wrists...and some of the men are bigger. Much bigger. Growing all the time...and with the added growth has come a voracious sexual appetite. In their desperation, the women of Sore Gap have pooled their resources and hired Dick Gently, Sissy P.I. His methods are unconventional, but he swears he'll get to the bottom of the mysterious pills before the ladies all end up walking bowlegged...but has Dick Gently's greed written a check his bottom can't cash? Because as they grow randier, some of the men of Sore Gap are less and less particular about what hole they stick it in...and it might take all of Gently's wiles to come out of Sore Gap with his butt intact.
The Phone Sex Is Coming From Inside The House Jane had picked up the phone sex job as just another gig. Something that paid better than checking out groceries, but wasn't as full-on sex work as being a camgirl. It had worked out, too...she'd liked getting to know strangers, turning them on, faking orgasms...she'd gotten good at it. Plus, thanks to the wonders of modern technology, she could work from her own home. Then the police asked for her help. There was a serial killer out there...and the one thing they knew about him was that he called her phone sex line. He'd be talking to her, breathing heavily, listening in as he made his kill. The police had noticed this, and set up a sting: the next time he called, if she could keep him on the line as long as possible, they could trace the call and catch him in the act. It all worked out too well. Because when they traced the call...
Caged It was a typical office Friday-before-Halloween party...with standard crappy costumes, far too much alcohol, and Bill from Engineering waking up in the supply closet with Jane from Accounting. Only Jane was wearing a metal pair of panties, and Bill's dick was locked into a metal cage, a ring painfully tight around his balls. Their cellphones ring at the same time. Transmitting the same message. Do exactly what I say if you want to be uncaged. What happened last night? Who locked them up? And more importantly...what are they going to have to do to get unlocked?
Monsters of Cock Nina was a porn star - once the top of the game, and she still has a body to outmatch most women her age. But everyone has seen her fucked every which way imaginable, in every form and format, and as it became harder and harder to get gigs, she's had to resort to doing more and more extreme material to keep the audience interested and bring in the same payday that she used to get for a simple girl-girl or anal scene. When she was accepted for Monsters of Cock, Nina thought all she was in for was a good hole-stretching...betting that none of the studs they'd lined up for her were anything to compare with some of the ass-splitters and cunt-breakers she kept at home for a little private time. She didn't even think it was weird that she had to sign the contract in blood. Yet as she shows up for the shoot, she finds she was wrong...and that the emphasis is more on the monster than the cock. If Nina isn't very careful and doesn't use all of her gifts and skill, she may not last the night. Size Queen Hell In life, Sonia liked big cocks. The bigger the better. She stretched her ass on everything smaller than a parking bollard, and as she was rushed to the emergency room with a busted sphincter, she rejoiced in the fact that she was the only woman to take five dicks in her derriere at once. Alas, for all the surgeon's skill, the damage was too great... ...and when Sonia faded out from the anesthesia, she found herself in the endless grey limbo of a dark and gloomy afterlife. Accompanied by the shades of the damned...or at least those who had died with micropenises. To them, she was a goddess; to her, not a single one could measure up. So Sonia wandered among the damned, hoping beyond hope to find a grower and not a shower among all the dead dicks, her carnal appetite never satisfied. In time, she might have resolved herself to the adoration of her midget-dicked admirers...but what is Hell without hope? For the one damned soul that loved her most let slip that even in size queen hell, there was one cock to surpass them all...Satan's own. Of course, to fuck that cock would require moving outside the relative safety of her eternal limbo, and face the trials and tribulations of the other layers of hell. To confront her own sins, and the damage she had done in her life to others. All for a choice: Heaven...or the biggest fucking cock she had ever seen. Curse of the Were-Futa Gemma doesn't even like girls. Yet ever since she came of age, she can't help but notice them. Their pert, cute little asses. The way they smelled. The outline of their breasts in their shirts. Maybe that would be normal bisexual tendancies that many women experience... ...but Gemma wasn't a normal woman. Her family had been cursed, and when they grew horny they grew something else, too. A cock and balls that burst forth from their pussies, hard and throbbing, only retreating when the heat had worn off. Now, in her first weekend away from home at university, a storm raged outside the dorm...the power went out...and Gemma was trapped with two dozen nubile co-eds, who quickly decided to light some candles, break out the beer, and play seven minutes in Heaven. What is a were-futa to do? Can Gemma control her urges? And what if one of the "girls" isn't quite what she seems to be?
