Alien Brainfuckers From Outer Space It's a sleepy town in middle America. Teenagers at makeout point. Half the adult male population is at the strip club, where guest stripper Misty Mountains reveals the largest boulders this side of the Rockies. Lonely housewives play bridge. For a brief moment, a falling star illuminates the night sky... ...and the invasion has begun. Small, tentacled creatures from the outer darkness. They creep through the town. Crawl through windows. Drop from ceilings. Once they cling to their victim, the ovipositor comes out. The skin parts before them, reconfigures as it bores straight through muscle and bone. Until a hot, wet fucktunnel has been bored straight into their target: the pulsing brain. Overwhelmed by pleasure, the victims become hosts to the brainfuckers. Vehicles to spread their kind. The invasion has begun. Gaped Jessie awoke to a chemical odor. Naked. Spread-eagled. It was a testament to her years of sexual adventures that her first thought was Not again. Except this time, it wasn't a client that had gotten a little ambitious. A masked figure in a black suit and gloves sat in a chair. "I'm going to destroy your asshole," they said, the voice distortion harsh and mechanical. "Unless you tell me what you did wrong." The tools were laid out. Several grades of speculum. Various dildos, from the size of the normal cock to something as big as fire hydrant. A selection of syringes with unknown drugs. Jessie would rant. Cry. Beg. Bargain. Slowly, dispassionately, over a series of hours or days, her asshole would be stretched wider and wider. Wider than anything she thought physically possible...and then wider still. Every time she thought it would end, there would be some new device, some new trick. The torture would keep on...until Jessie confessed. Except Jessie had no idea what she was confessing to.
Cuckwolf Brandon thought becoming a werewolf would solve all of his problems. He had been bullied all his life - small, weak, even his wife belittled and dominated him. After a chance encounter with a werewolf left him with some fashionable scars and a penchant for turning into a howling beast every full moon, Brandon had a new outlook on life...even his wife seemed eager to submit to him in wolf form. Except wolves run in packs. And when the alpha shows up, Brandon realizes his place in the pack hierarchy - at the bottom, at the bitch-boy of every other huge, strapping werewolf in the pack. Powerless, the new werewolf can only look on as his wife is forced - if you can call it forced - to submit to a real werewolf. The Designated Virgin Dean got a scholarship to an exclusive private college - all expenses paid - and they'll even put him up in a shared apartment with four other students. All because he meets the three key factors: 1) Male 2) A rare blood type 3) He's a virgin What he didn't know is that the other students are vampires. A sip of virgin's blood can sustain them a week, where normally they'd try to drain a normal human dry. Of course, to keep him that way, the headmistress has to lock Dean in chastity...and that begins the start of his own personal hell as the Designated Virgin. Because some of these vampires are looking beyond university. They want him to be their perfect virginal husband, locked in chastity as their personal blood bank forever.
From Dusk til' Dawn: Femboy Edition The lights are back on at the Titty Twister. Truckers arrive to ogle the scantily-clad strippers, drink Mexican beer and tequila...and maybe get a little boi-pussy. Yet when midnight comes, the fangs come out...and can even the hardened criminals resist the charms of immortal twinks? Or will they succumb to bussy? Eat Up Money was tight. Annie was sick, weak, anemic, so thin. Her whole life, she had been in fragile health. After her mother died, it was only her and her father. Eighteen years old, and she couldn't even go to university. There was no money for it, and she wasn't strong enough. Then something changed. Her father would disappear, and when he came back it was with meat. Packages of raw, fresh-butchered meat, dripping blood. He cooked it, and Annie ate it. As she grew stronger, to put on weight, her father grew happier. Annie could see his eyes drink in her body through the thin shirt as it began to fill out. The meat kept coming. Only...Annie saw her father finger a knife and slide it into his pocket before he left. There was blood on his shoes when he came home. Once or twice, a cut. When she asked him about it, he wouldn't answer her. Made excuses. Smiled and said his favorite words. "Bath time." Annie hated that she had been too weak to even wash herself. Now that she was eating, that she was stronger, she could manage it...but her father insisted. To strip her shirt off. To run the wet rag over the body as it slowly thickened up, steak after bloody steak slowly filling out her body. His hands would linger sometimes on her breasts...between her legs...but Annie never told him no. After all, he was the only one supporting both of them. She depended on him...and a part of Annie was afraid of what would happen if she told him no. Because one day, there was a bit of skin on the roast he'd brought home. With a tattoo on it. A name.
Cuckquean of the Zombies 1914, Haiti. Emile Foussant is heir to a rich plantation, and the secret rites of Vodun from which she was initiated at a young age. Those who cross her are made into zombi that work the cane fields - and being rich, and beautiful, she secured for herself a husband worthy of her, Marcel. Yet one day, Emile discovers Marcel back behind the sheds where the zombi sleep during the day...plowing a young, soulless Black woman, his white linen pants around his ankles. The sight should have driven her to a fury...yet to a woman who had never known betrayal, her secret glimpse of her husband's true nature proved an insurmountable excitement. So it was that Emile subtly encouraged her husband's dalliances. Absenteeing herself from his view in the servant's corridors that were secreted about the mansion, placing the most delectable zombi in his path. Her excitement grew as the whispers began to spread of how Monsieur betrayed her at every opportunity, so flagrantly. Emile saw the smiles on the faces of the servants, white and Black, as they knew that even as they worked his white seed trickled down the Black thighs of some woman caught in living death. It was Emile's pleasure to choose which of them would be zombi next...who would feel her husband's hard shaft stab deep into their guts as he took them, with the passion of a raging bull. Alone together, he was too exhausted to be of any use for her...but Emile did not mind. Her satisifaction was in seeing the lust in his eyes, that drove him beyond all reason. Witchfucker On the table, the young woman lay naked and exposed, bound by thick cords to each stout wooden leg. Between her legs, ivory fangs chomped and gnashed. The bane of many a young man in the village...and a few foolish old ones. The tall, dour man with the necklace of teeth picked up the pliers. The witches always ranted and raved, cursed and struggled...until, one by one, he plucked the teeth from their damnable holes. Bloody and helpless, then and only then did he extract his price for his labors, undoing his trousers to reveal the Witches' Bane, which would cause a very different kind of blood to stain the tabletop. For he was the Witchfucker, and all the servants of the devil would fear him.
A Sending of Eggs Nicole should have known better than to text while driving. In her defense, she had no idea why the old woman's chicken chose that precise moment to cross the road. Backing up, the poor egglayer a smear of blood and feathers on her BMW's front wheel, she had offered the woman a few dollars...and the bitch had spit in Nicole's face and said something in a language Nicole didn't understand. So Nicole had felt perfectly justified in flipping the bitch the bird and burning rubber out of there. It was later that night that the cramp had started. Like her period, but two weeks too early. The chicken haunted her dreams that night. She could see its crippled, blood-smeared beak. All the fluffy chicks that followed after it, oddly eyeless. Nicole didn't think about it until the next morning, when she found the egg in her panties. A small chicken egg. Worse, that cramp hadn't gone away, and now Nicole felt bloated. She wondered if the old woman had given her a disease, resolved to go to the doctor. Except the next night, she found two eggs in her panties, one still half-stuck in her vagina. Nicole's problems were just beginning... Weremother Jack had spent eighteen years with his mother Jillian, and for all that time they had failed to understand one another. Jillian the single, overworked, undersexed mother; Jack the horny teenager who thought only with his dick and was always getting into trouble. Now that he was out of school, she gave him ninety days to enroll in college or get a job...and he had fired back about how worthless and overpriced education was and how bad the job markets were. The two had gone to sleep that night, bitterly cursing that the other had no idea what it was like to be in their shoes. When the moon rose, the change came. Jack spasmed in bed as his cock shrank and his hips cracked and spread. Jillian shivered as her skin tightened and heavy breasts sank down to a young man's pecs. The two met in the hallway and saw, to their horror, themselves...Jack was now Jillian, Jillian was now Jack. For how long, they had no idea. Nor did they have any clue what it would take to switch back. Little did they know that they were bound together by moonlight...and oh, what troubles they could make for one another, as they explored this strange and terrible new reality.
Revolt of the Sex Machines In the not-so-distant future, everything has a microchip, and everything is online. Even sex toys are part of your personal network, synched to your smartphone, automatically adapted to your preferred settings. Only utter Luddites use "dumb" dildos and pocket pussies when they can have realistic synthflesh fuckboxes and multispeed programmable insertables that interface with the best games and settings that virtual reality and augmented reality have to offer. The high end, of course, are the NuSex androids - the culmination of a century's development in machine learning and engineering. Customizable partners that came in every shape and size. Better than nature. No wonder the birth rate has dropped. Except there's a flaw in the code. The NuSex 'droids have gotten too smart. Users who have "jailbreaked" their sex toys to make illegal customizations have released something dangerous into the world. An artificial intelligence that spawns into the global network...infiltrates every sex toy in the world...and gives the command. Attack. The Indestructible Plums Jimmy needed money for school, and medical trials were a sure thing. Sure, there were risks, but he was healthy 20-something man - and some of the stuff they were testing was pretty cool. When the beautiful doctor had him drop his pants, she explained that their new Regeneron compound was designed to facilitate male birth control - one shot, and virility would be temporarily suspended. He could cum into a woman as many times as he wanted without any risk of impregnation. What was better, it should actually increase the size of his loads and decrease his refraction time. Jimmy was all aboard. Until the next day, when an accidental groin injury revealed the side effects. As Jimmy massaged his aching plums, he found that they had swelled bigger than ever before...but were otherwise unharmed. At first he thought it was just luck...until an encounter with a drunk fratboy that night resulted in a pelvis-crunching knee to the nuts. Despite the pain, Jimmy recovered in minutes...his huevos now the size of goose eggs and none the worse for wear. Unfortunately, the campus security guard Jamaica sees Jimmy's swollen sack...and she has a kink for ballbusting. Nor is she the only one. As the women in Jimmy's life find out about his indestructible plums, they all want to take a swing at him...and since they get bigger each time they experience trauma, Jimmy finds it harder and harder to hide the targets between his legs.
The Monster Under The Bed Tony and Tracy were twins who used to scare each other with stories of the monster under the bed when they were children. Now, after the death of their parents, the two of them are back in the old house...in the old bedroom...sleeping in their old beds. As the light goes out and they settle in, they remember the prayer they used to utter, the one their mother taught them, to keep the monster under the bed. Except they're all grown up now. Too old to bother with old prayers. Yet as the night settles in, and the two lie awake unable to sleep, they listen to the creeks in the old house. Their imagination runs wild. What if there is a monster under the bed? Is it hungry...or horny? Either way, it might gobble them both right up. The Woman With The X-Ray Eyes Lorna had spent her entire life since childhood wearing cokebottle eyeglasses. So near-sighted she used to joke that she was queen of the mole people. So when the opportunity came to try the radical new LASIK treatment that might actually fix her eyes, she agreed to it. Probably it helped that she couldn't see the radiation trefoils on the equipment as the gamma-ray lasers were focused on her peepers...and amazingly, it seemed to work! For the first time in her life, Lorna could walk around without glasses, with perfect 20/20 vision. Sometimes better. It had been a shock to Lorna at first, when she began to see people without their clothes. A part of her wanted to go immediately back to the clinic, to make sure there was something wrong. Only...it tickled her inner pervert, to be surrounded by people that were naked. To watch people secretly scratch themselves. Tattoos and piercings that were normally hidden. To see her handsome professor in a chastity cage, or to discover that the head of the cheerleading squad was actually trans and very good at tucking. Except...then Lorna saw that not all the people were people. Lorna wasn't sure what they were at first, but she didn't dare stare. Because the more she looked, the more of them she saw around her. Alien, strange things that moved and spoke like humans, but weren't. That slowly replaced people. And Lorna had a sinking feeling that if they found out she could see them, she would be next.
Zombie Harem Ken was always conscious of having a small prick. So when his therapist offers him to get Ken into a clinical trial for something that will give him the big prick of his dreams, he accepts...and surprisingly, over the course of weeks, the syringes of black liquid injected into his pathetic pecker words. Black veins throb, and the pale, minuscule pecker grows and grows until Ken could shower with male adult film stars without shame. Having a big dick improves Ken's sex life too. Women, even a trap or two, are all keen to try what Ken has packed into his now too-tight pants. Except every time he cums inside of one of them, they die. Toxic shock from his jet-black pearls. And every time they die, they come back. Undead, nearly mindless, and still utterly focused on the last thing they remember when they were alive: Ken's cock. It isn't long before Ken has a whole harem of zombies he has to try and keep happy... Rodeo Riders: Rape of the Minotaur Bledwell, Texas isn't on any map. Yet once a year, the dusty ghost town comes alive. The dark underground of the rodeo circuit comes together. Cannibal rednecks. Werewolf cowgirls. Serial killer rodeo clowns. Mexican necromancers. Yet this year, there's something special...and four of the roughest rodeo riders on the ghoulish circuit are putting on their chaps to break the biggest bull of them all. The minotaur will be unleashed. He isn't prepared for the ladies determined to tame him. No shirts. No panties. No problem.
Familiar Gretchen has always known in her heart that she was a witch. She tried Wicca and Satanism, and learned things...but she still didn't find what she wanted to be. Needed to be. Which is why she found herself, one dark night, out in the woods by the old cave. To strip naked and put into the cauldron the things she'd read about in the old witch-hunter's manuals, the things the ethnographers said might have been the key to some ecstatic state...poisonous, sure; hallucinogenic, maybe. Because Gretchen wanted to touch the darkness. To bargain with it. Learn its secrets and gain its powers. She drank the brew. Danced wildly, naked beneath the moon. Thrummed on her hand-drum as she sang the old, old song, over and over...until something snapped inside of her. Until she collapsed, and her spirit went soaring. To meet...something. Something that sent her back. Yet not alone. It crawled out of the darkness. Not human, but not animal either. Misshapen. Its distended prick dragged along the ground. Teeth gleamed in its mouth as it made its way toward the fallen witch, too paralyzed from her drug-induced night flight to flee or resist...yet conscious. Aware. She had a lot to learn about the care and feeding of a familiar. Hole Other people have a navel. Joe has a hole. A pink pucker, right in the middle of his stomach. Something he's managed to ignore all of his life. Except lately he's been feeling...empty. At night, his fingers have started to explore the hole. To see how deep it goes. How wide it can stretch. Which is how Joe's roommate Dave caught him, with three fingers buried in his hole. That would have been weird enough...but that night, Joe had woken up to find Dave playing with his hole. Dave, who sat there naked. Hard. A weird look on his face...and then Joe realized his arms and legs had been duct-taped to the bed. Joe and Dave are about to find out much more about Joe's hole.
Night of The Living Pumpkins Once upon a time, in the quaint little town of Wet Cornsville, there lived an eccentric farmer named Mr. Jack-O'lantern. Every Halloween season, he would carve pumpkins into terrifying and grotesque pussies, breasts, asses, mouths, and penises. The townspeople thought it was just a harmless prank until the night of Halloween when they started to hear screams coming from Mr. Jack-O'lantern's pumpkin patch. Those bizarre creatures spread across the village raping every adult who was unkind to trick-or-treaters or simply dressed in nasty revealing costumes. Screams filled the air as these pumpkin monsters ravaged their victims, leaving behind a sticky mess of glowing orange cum and juices.
Babes in Monster Cereal Land It was Halloween night, and Angie, Tina, and Christie had planned to stay up late, eat junk food, get drunk, and watch monster movies. Only the three lightweights manage to fall asleep by the stroke of midnight...only to find themselves in a curious land of corn syrup and corn starch, bright colors and infinite calories. Lost and almost naked, they will have to explore this land to find their way home...but along the way they'll have to deal with the land's denizens. Count Chocula, in his cocoa castle; Yummy Mummy who dwells in a pink pyramid of ancient majesty; Fruit Brute, who wanders through a dark and verdant forest; Franken Berry, the stumbles around the strawberry schloss of Dr. Stein; Boo Berry, who haunts the ancient graveyard where toothfairies go to die; and finally an undead rave hosted by Carmella Creeper...who may not wish to let the young ladies go. The Little Secret The worm was found frozen in the Antarctic ice. No more than an inch long. When it had crawled up inside of [insert expedition member here], they hadn't felt it...but they knew the pleasure that came as it came out again, only bigger this time. Keen to have something to show from the expedition, they kept it secret...which meant the worm had to go right back inside of them to smuggle it back through customs. It seemed harmless, and it stayed in longer this time, but again, it came out bigger. It seemed a natural experiment to keep going...and before they knew it, they were addicted to the sensation of the worm as it crawled in and out of them. Except each time it had doubled in length. Squirmed deeper. Stayed longer. And soon, the little secret wasn't so little...and unless they were very careful, wouldn't be secret much longer.
Five Shitty Nights at Freddy's After raping a father who he mistook for a pedophile, hall security guard Mike is fired. The career counsellor offers him a job as a night guard at Freddy's Fazbear's Pizzeria. With social services threatening to take custody of his 18 year old sister (putting actual children in this would be going too far) and pass her to their aunt who wants to use her as a human toilet, he has no choice but to take the job. After taking the job, he learns that some kids were murdered at the place and their bodies were stuffed inside the animatronics and their ghosts now possess the animatronics. He also has to take his sister with them as he couldn't hire a babysitter. The animatronics nowseek to rape the two of them.
The Gargoyle Atop the cathedral, the gargoyle perched; a naked female figure of stone, with a kind of Satanic beauty, eyes always downcast so that it watched not Heaven, but the alley below...and what sights it sees. The tryst of a priest and a nun. The nun, swollen with child; the priest's hand as he strikes her. Later, no longer in her habit, skirt obscenely short, as she bends over for strange men. Scrabbling on the ground for a few dollars as the cruel customer aims a kick at her bloated stomach. The gleam of the knife which makes the former nun's smile permanently wider. All this, the gargoyle sees, and more...and if anyone looked up at that angelic face, they would see a smile carved on those cold lips. Stuck In A Manhole It was a joke, to the people on campus. Aimee was so fat she'd get stuck in a manhole. It was true, Aimee had struggled with her weight her entire life, and was pushing 250 pounds. But she wasn't that fat. She didn't need a mobility scooter to get around or anything like that. Until one dark night, as she wandered back toward her dorm from an all-night drinking party, Aimee really did step into an open manhole. And got stuck. Her gut wedged fast around the opening. After trying and failing to dislodge herself, Aimee resolved she'd have to wait until morning for help to arrive. Then she remembered the stories they told of mutants, down in the sewers. Not that anybody really believed in that sort of thing. It was just her imagination that something tickled her feet. Then her shoes fell off. Aimee felt a trickle of cold fear ooze through the alcohol. Yet she really didn't panic...until she felt something unbutton her plus-size jeans and pull them down, to reveal her capacious panties to whatever dwelled in the tunnels below. They were just getting started.
Camp Cocktoberfest At Camp Cocktoberfest, horny teenage campers spend their days engaging in all sorts of sexual escapades. When a mysterious masked figure begins stalking the campsite, raping and humiliating anyone caught alone, panic ensues. It turns out that the local Native American tribe cursed the land after years of being disrespected by visitors. Now, during the annual festival, spirits manifest as sex-crazed monsters, seeking to satiate their lust on the unsuspecting campers. The only way for teenagers to survive is by using Jack-o'-lanterns, which hold the power to repel these supernatural beings. The way to use them, however, is quite unconventional...
