Blood Orgy at the Black Lagoon Sometimes you just want to get away...and take your clothes off. As nudists, there weren't many places where Jodie and her adult daughter Daphne felt safe going out in the altogether, so a small, women's only nudist cruise up the Amazon River seemed like a perfect chance to just take everything off, let it all hang out, maybe even swim naked in the untouched waters. Of course, it isn't long before the naked ladies start to disappear. Crew and passengers whisper about native tribes, maybe even slavers...but what really waits for them in the Black Lagoon is older...hornier...and hungrier than the nudists can know. The Cuckolding Ghost Black Mary Bellam was a pirate, and pirates are sentenced to hang. Yet she had heard, in jail, how they wouldn't hang a pregnant woman. So she traded the map to her treasure, and her body, to her jailor - and he took her map, and fucked her long, and as frequently as he liked; he made of her existence a hell...and in the end, despite the swell of her belly, the magistrates hung her anyway. So she laid a curse, that her unborn child would take revenge on their generations yet unborn, and her weeds would overgrow their gardens. Two hundred years later, the local historical society holds a Halloween masquerade ball in the old jailhouse. A time for the descendants of the old families to get together, tell lies about their ancestors, and keep the older teens from causing trouble out on the streets. So of course, a group of 18-year-olds dust off the ouija board and decide to hold a seance in Black Mary Bellam's cell...for they all know the old legend. Yet there are parts of that story their forebears never told them. Like how when the rope went taut, something slithered out of Black Mary's womb, to act as the instrument for her revenge. How not every child born from their wives came from their loving husband's seed. How any one of them could, in fact, be a true descendant of Mary Bellem...and ready to cuckold a new generation.
I don't understand pleading by the belly. Why can't they just wait nine months and hang a woman then?
The Furry Curse Nick was a jock. Two hundred fifty pounds of straight-Cs at university, proud of the points he put on the board during baseball, proud of his fraternity, and proud of his ROTC uniform. An all-American who bullied nerds and geeks almost just by his mere existence. When he saw the goth slut with the cat ears and collar around her neck in one of his lit courses, he had to make a comment...and he didn't understand quite what she said back. It wasn't English, at least he didn't think so. But ever since then...his normal porn didn't really satisfy him. Worse, when Nick opened the newspaper to the comics page and saw some of the female anthromorphic characters, he popped a boner. One night after practice his finger had slipped and an old Thundercats cartoon had popped up on youtube, and his dick had come alive like nothing in weeks...and when he came, it was so hard that he'd had to clean the splooge off the wall before his roommate could find it. Then the dreams started. The doodles in the corners of his notebook. Nick started to notice other little things about him change. The sexy lady tattooed on his arm, her bare breasts always there to give him a smile, now had pointed ears and a furry tail...and that was when Nick realized what was happening to him. And wondered if there was any way to stop before he became a full-fledged furry. Whatever Happens In The Ladies Room The old building must have had a history before IntelliTech Corp turned it into another suite of offices. Something strange and terrible must have happened there, before they built the women's restroom in that spot. There must be a reason why there's no phone or wifi signal, why cameras and photographs inexplicably fail. Why and how were not important; what was important is that room had no memory. Something that various IntelliTech Corp members discover. Anything that happened in the Ladies' Room, stays in the Ladies' Room. While they're in there, they remember. When they leave, they don't. Wonderful things can happen, and terrible things...especially when someone discovers that if you carry a piece of tile from the bathroom with you, you can remember everything that happened, while no one else can. What do you do when there are no consequences? When you can kiss whomever you want. Fuck whomever you want. Rape whomever you want. The moment they leave, they forget everything. The blood and cum disappear, the bathroom as spotless as before. No memory. No evidence. No consequences. Someone at IntelliTech Corp discovers that whatever happens in the Ladies' room stays there...and their coworkers become their victims.
I Know Who You Cuckolded Last Summer Dave has a great life. A hot trophy wife, four grown kids (the twins just turned 18 and are getting ready for college), and a hippy sister and not-too-overbearing mother who lives with them in his big house. He works hard, and he plays hard. So every so often, on his business trips, Dave's wedding ring comes off and he cruises the apps for married women in his area. Because nothing makes Dave harder than pumping some MILF whose hapless husband is waiting at home. Some of his affairs are more serious than others, but Dave is practical: he won't let his side-pussy fuck up his married life. So when Dave gets a threatening email from a jealous husband, he sends it to the spam folder. Except they keep coming. Letters. Emails. Notes. And the thing is, they're not threatening to cut Dave's balls off. No, they're pictures of the women in his life. In increasingly compromising situations. By the time Dave realizes something is wrong, his wife has shown him the positive pregnancy test and told him that they're going to be parents again. Except Dave was away on business that weekend. They're just getting started. And Dave has no idea who he cuckolded last summer. Final Call Girl Latoya begged Jasmine to come along. One more trick. A party full of cocaine and champagne. Rich business fucks that needed a little female company. Two thousand dollars for a night's work. So even though Jasmine swore that the escort life was behind her, she had her mother babysit her 6-month-old daughter and squeezed back into a too-tight dress and too-tall heels, to join five other sex workers for a night of revelry out on a private hunting lodge in the woods. Only one of the other guests had been skimming money from the wrong people. A Mexican cartel that decided to send a message. A serial killer with death tattooed on his face that liked to kill his victims the old way, with knife and machete. Who made of his kill sites a profane temple to dead and forgotten gods. El Santo Muerte. There's a slasher in the woods...and as the silicone-inflated bitches and rich pricks start to die in grisly fashion, Jasmine realizes its up to her to do whatever it takes to survive. There's no trick out of bounds. She will survive. She will be... the Final Call Girl.
Little Black Book James had picked up the little black notebook at the university library sale, only a moment before Arthur put his hand on it. There was a brief struggle, but James was first, and bought the thing. It wasn't much...just the kind of little black book any man might have, with the names of the women in his sex life. Except the names in this book were all dead. And the book told how they died. Choking to death on a cock. A heart attack during sex. A freak beheading while eating out a girlfriend. As an experiment, James wrote down the name of one young lady he'd had his eye on...and the next day, she too was dead. Then he understood what a treasure he had in his hands. Yet he didn't quite understand why Arthur wanted it. Because while James was a necrophile, Arthur was a reanimator, attempting to build his perfect woman...and between the two of them, the Little Black Book would rack up quite the body count. The Erotic Metamorphosis One day, Gregor Samsa woke up as a giant cockroach. A giant female humanoid cockroach, with soft chitinous plates over her breasts, and a gooey, dripping pussy between his principle legs, pink and pulsating. Shocked, he could only stay in his room, depressed and masturbating. Her father was angry at Samsa's freeloading ways; her mother was disgusted at Samsa's habits...and her sister is the one that suggested a solution to keep the peace in the family. Which is how Gregorina Samsa became a callgirl. Embarrassed as she indulged in more and more perverted acts in front of the camera her sister had set up. Her father's angry, bloodshot eyes locked in a disapproving stare the few times Samsa dared scuttle out of her room. Her mother disdainful as she delivered packages of lingerie and sex toys. Yet the money trickled in...and as her perverted audience grew more demanding, Samsa's depression grew worse. The hateful comments tormented her, but not as much as the smiles of her sister who delighted at her torment. The tension in the house became unbearable...and Samsa wondered how much more terrible her life could get.
Rape Mark Anna woke up one day with a pain in her chest...and looked down to see a lewd tattoo between her breasts. A garish figure of a pussy being held open - a Sheela-na-gig, she remembered from her university anthropology classes. A drunken mistake that she couldn't remember getting and couldn't afford to get lasered off. Except as the day goes by, she starts to see the hungry eyes of the men around her. Anna was used to catcalls and propositions - but this was something else. These men were violent. Aggressive. Fear pumped into Anna as she was forced to run, from one situation to another, the men around her absolutely insane. That was when Anna started to remember bits and pieces of last night. Hooded robes. An altar in the woods. A needle that transferred the image into her flesh. The punishment. The rape mark. Every Night One Of Us Is Fucked To Death The Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader bus has gone missing - and with it the entire cheerleader squad. In the backwoods of Arkansas, the nubile women are chained in a basement, in the dark. Every night, the inbred rednecks take one of them away...and their screams echo throughout the dungeon until they finally come to a swift gurgle of silence. Big Mama, who rules the clan, has given the ladies a choice: pick one of their own, or she'll pick for them. In the dark, all together. Whispered arguments. Old rivalries flaring up. Time ticking away as they debated who would be sacrificed, so that the others could live, could eke out one more day in the hopes of rescure. Because every night, one of them is fucked to death...
Ars Gooetica Billy has had a small dick his entire life. He'd tried every pill, every pump, talked to every surgeon. Nothing had made him grow an inch. Black magic had been his last resort. The medieval grimoires that lasted the names and seals of all the fallen angels who could be summoned to bestow gifts on their summoner, in exchange for their soul. Which Billy wasn't even using. So he drew the lines. Said the words. Made the sacrifices. Spurted his seed across the seal. Everything that the book told him to do. All for nothing...again. Except...there was something, in the middle of the magic circle he'd drawn. Little more than a bead of liquid. It quivered, small and helpless. Yet it was darker than darkness, like a hole punched through the world. And as it swallowed the semen he had shot across the mystic seal, it grew bigger. Hungrier. It oozed towards him...stopped only by the mystic circle he had drawn. Billy smiled. This gooey horror might not have been what he'd hoped for, but it proved the spells did work. He'd gotten something. Bad Boy Doctor John was a bad boy, sometimes. Monogamy was hard, when there were so many beautiful women, so eager to fall for his charms. Nurses, patients, fellow doctors, even the janitorial staff at the hospital he worked at...they were all fair game. Which might not have been so bad, except one night on a late shift, Dr. John left his phone unlocked. With all the evidence of all the times he'd cheated on his girlfriends. Now Dr. John wakes up in the surgical theater, surrounded by all the women he's wronged in his life. He sees the surgical trays, the scalpels, the needles, an IV in his arm. His penis felt very cold and exposed. Dr. John has been a bad boy...and now each of them is going to take a turn exacting punishment for his crimes against him. His dick is never going to be the same.
Ghoulfriends Miriam had thought even a chubby, plainjane Goth chick could score. She went to all the Wiccan ceremonies, got skyclad, brought beer to the record release parties...and she was still 23 and a virgin, too shy to have any sexual encounter. Until one midnight dreary as she strolled through a cemetery, sexually frustrated and saw...her. Naked in the moonlight. Pawing at a recent grave. Lanky-hair that didn't hide her breasts, skeletally thin like a hungry dog, matter pubic hair between her pair thighs. Those strange eyes weren't quite human...the way she snuffled and licked her lips. Yet as she approached, Miriam froze, afraid, aroused...and she wasn't the only one. By the end of the night, Miriam had a ghoulfriend. And her troubles were just beginning. Penisburster The icebreaker was six weeks out of port, but the men handled it well. Three weeks out, and even most straight men would get hard when young Buck was down on his knees in the shower, to suck the semen out of the seamen; or hear the moans as they ran a train on his sissy ass in the mess hall, and think of the ship's whore. Buck was insatiable, and as far as Captain Thomas concerned, the young man was an invaluable addition to the crew. If anyone ever noticed their scrotums swell, bit by bit, over the last few weeks, none of them reported it to old Doc Ketchum. Not until at mess one evening, when Buck had stood up and jerked his pants down with a scream. His heavy sack was the size of a basketball...and for a second appeared to ejaculate blood, all over his plate. Then his prick had burst. Whatever had grown inside of him erupted out, sleek and white, faster than a rat, and it had scurried out as the men stood gawping. Buck had bled out before they could even fetch Doc Ketchum. Except now the thing was on the loose...and every man there scratched their own swelling testes, wondering what had happened. It was a long, cold voyage, and their boipussy was dead...and unless they figured out what was going on, he wouldn't be the only one.
Evil Eye Monique was born the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter...and when she came of age at 18, she inherited the power of the Evil Eye. Now with a glance, Monique finds she can exact revenge on all those who have wronged her. Things start to happen on campus - the sorority that refused to let her pledge suddenly suffers a rash of pregnancies as condoms at the introductory orgy failed. Her hardass biology professor snags her shirt, which rips off and shows her fat funbags to the entire class - on a day her lecture was being recorded live. The only limit is Monique's imagination, and the future looks bright... ...except she didn't count one of the local Wiccans picking up on what was going on. Jennifer has charms against the Evil Eye...and whenever Monique uses her power on her, the curse comes back on Monique threefold. Something Wicked One day, it just wasn't there. A typical abandoned storefront in New Salem, California. The next night, however...and the newest adult emporium is open, for select customers. Only Something Wicked doesn't sell your normal porn DVDs and dildos. Here, you can find an ultrarealistic dildo that looks and feels just like your brother's cock...and he can feel when you use it. Or a DVD that stars your next door neighbor...except every time you put it in, she's doing something different, as if it was being shot live. Each item has a price, and each item is unique...and slowly but surely, the social bonds that hold New Salem together will fray apart. Tempers will flare, blood will be spilled. Something Wicked has come to New Salem...and the town will never be the same.
Kinfuck Billy should have known better than to fall in love with a stripper. Especially a top-heavy borderline nymphomaniac that claimed she was allergic to latex and thought birth control was the tool of the devil. So six weeks after attending a friend's bachelor party at the Mons of Madness titty bar, Betty-Sue Marsh's sister arrives at his front door with a shotgun pointed at Billy's balls and a simple declaration. It was time to get married. Back in Dagoth County, where for the first time Betty Sue will meet his inlaws...and find out that his bride's family tree looks like chala bread. The backwoods swamp town on the coast is dilapidated and poverty-stricken, but with a kid on the way, Billy can't say no...but then he learns that the Marsh Clan is a little peculiar about outsiders. They all attend a strange church, too. Yet that's not the strangest revelation to come...because Billy is about to learn a few things about himself, his family tree, and all the odd customs surrounding a shotgun marriage in Lovecraft country. Tally A drunken sailor that she helped stumble into her apartment, and then into her bed. Too drunk to notice the scars at first, as her clothing came off. The tight, toned body that slid on top of him, cunt like a vise. Riding him hard and fast. Until the moment of climax. The last thing he saw was the scalpel, just before it pierced his eye and into his brain. The remaining eye was dull and unseeing as she made another small, vertical cut on her chest. Part of a row of scars. Another notch, another tally-mark. Then she was away, his seed dripping out of her, to leave someone else to clean up the mess. The detective examined the crime scene with grim displeasure. This was the sixth that they had found. No rhyme or reason. Horny men and a mysterious woman. A serial killer whose trademark was sex. Something the detective could use some of himself. His smartphone beeped, and he saw the dating app had made a connection with someone. A thin, fit woman, demure, intelligent...pretty. He swiped to confirm the connection... Tally had a place for the detective. Right above her heart.
Frankenstein: Monster Maker Doctor Stein had set up his cosmetic surgery practice in a remote, out-of-the-way place. A fresh start, someplace new. Someplace where he could continue his research, and deal with what few patients found there way to him in a completely normal fashion. Just Doctor Stein and his faithful nurse practitioner Irena. (It wasn't much of a change for her; the humps was simply on the other side.) Until the flat-chested young woman came in asking for the biggest breast implants on the planet. Until the jock came in asking to be literally hung like a horse. Until the jock's girlfriend came in, wanting a way to fellate the whole of her boyfriend's enormous equine schlong. Until the mayor's wife came in asking for a second vagina... Of course, all of those operations required fresh parts. People noticed when bodies started to go missing. Yet Doctor Stein loves his work...and so do his patients. Their requests grow more bizarre, more perverted with each operation. Really, they're the monsters. He's just the Doctor. Ghostfucker She had confirmed the murders in the house. Thirteen over the last fifty years. Before that? Native American burial ground, the tribe extinct from smallpox. A slave shack out back had been rebuilt as a garage in the 50s. The headstones of the former slaves were out in the field behind the house. Satanists had performed black masses in that basement in the 70s. Then there had been the witch, a Romanian who only came out at night, the writer who had committed suicide...the mummified man they'd found inside the walls. None of the most recent owners had lasted a single night. It made Staci wet to think about it. She'd spent years trying to satisfy an erotic itch she just couldn't scratch...but now it was Hallowe'en, and she had just bought the most haunted house ever. The keys were cold in her hand. Later, there would be the repairs, painting, restoration. She grabbed her sleeping bag and ouija board, but left her panties in the car. She didn't care if the forces of evil dragged her to hell, as long as they showed her a good time first.
Jaws Girl In the waters around Amity Island, something swims. A sleek predator that cuts through the waters on moonlit nights. That watches the slender legs of swimmers and glides toward them. That opens its mouth in anticipation of that taste... In the water, a woman screams as something grabs her. Violates her. In panic she thrashes in the water, but there is no one there to hear her. It isn't until later, bleeding and in pain, bikini savagely torn off that she can speak about the great dorsal fin that cut the water. The black eyes. The mouth that closed on her pussy and ruthlessly assaulted her. The great gleaming breasts, the long strong arms and legs, the lanky black hair of the shark-girl. The mayor wants it hushed up...especially as the lesbian cruise ship is due to dock in any day now. The town needs those tourist dollars. Yet out in the water, something waits. Hungry for pussy. Ruthless. Ravenous. And when the moon is full...the Jaws Girl will hunt. And no woman is safe. The Stepford Husband Jim awoke, unable to move. Unable even to scream. No longer in his bed, but on an operating table. Aware, but unable to do anything as his wife prepared the surgical instruments. Before they had come to Stepford, Meralyn had been a surgeon...but Jim had wanted a trophy wife. A big, busty bimbo. It hadn't taken more than a few months since they moved in until she was exactly that, and Jim had never been happier when she dyed her hair, augmented her breasts, and spent more time in the gym and the bedroom than she did at the hospital. Of course, Jim never bothered to ask Meralyn what she thought about all that. Nor did he imagine that while she was becoming his dream wife, she had a few enhancements to make to him. Not until the scalpel touched his prick. "You've always been a bit small for my tastes, darling," she said as the blade bit into the flesh, blood welling up around the wound. "But soon you'll be perfect...and we'll be so happy..."
The Tentacle Monster Is You! It had only been a few million years when the cavern you were hibernating within was breached. You can feel your body overstuffed with eggs. Desperate for some warm, wet cavity to lay them in, you reach out with your arms and grasp the ragged edges of the crack. It was an effort to squeeze and deform your plastic body, but once more you were free...extruding a hundred little tongues to taste the air, your eye-spots registering light, vibrations through the stone telling you that creatures were approaching. The smell is familiar. Mammals. Female. Your egg-sack throbs. They will do nicely. Blood from the Mummy's Gash She's been on her period for three thousand years The tomb from a minor and obscure dynasty has been uncovered in the far west of Egypt, away from any modern-day political events. Doctor Gillian Gillespie wants to get this tomb unsealed, the artifacts entrusted to the Egyptian authorities. She is a good, responsible archaeologist, not some graverobber like Indiana Jones. Of course, alone in her tent at night, where there's no-one to see, Gillian models some of the ancient necklaces and amulets from the mummy's tomb on. Just to see how they look on her naked body. Just to try and feel like what she must have felt like...three thousand years ago. Then the twinge in her abdomen nearly doubles her over. By the time Gillian finds her pads, the bloodflow has already started. It's a hell of a time for her to start her period. Of course, that is only the beginning. For this mummy has a very special curse...for women...
Clicking The Devil's Mouse Bonnie is a senior in college, still living in the dorm, and in love with her roommate Carrie. Unfortunately, Carrie was homeschooled by her ultrareligious parents and thinks any sex is a sin. Carrie's pretty little head is filled with bad and just plain wrong ideas about sex, and even her own anatomy. It was Bonnie who had to show Carrie how to use a tampon instead of pads, and slowly but surely Bonnie has been trying to bring Carrie into the 21st century with regards to sexual liberation. Unfortunately, what Bonnie doesn't know is that Carrie's father wasn't the Baptist preacher she's always called 'Daddy.' No, Carrie was conceived during an unholy rite, and all of her mother's warnings to Carrie have been intended to suppress her natural instincts. Because Carrie is a succubus...and once Bonnie teaches her how to click the devil's mouse, all the pent-up sexual longing of twenty years will be unleashed like Hell on Earth. Radical Fertility Solutions Jordan had always wanted kids after she got out of the Marines, but an accidental weapon discharge destroyed her womb. Nina desperately wanted her own child, but being HIV positive none of the clinics would even consider artificial insemination. Jim was a normal guy with a pregnancy fetish. Not trans, just with a burning desire to bear a child. Normal medicine had failed them. Yet each one had been contacted by someone who promised he could help them. Doctor Praetorious ran a unique fertility practice; bleeding edge and experimental solutions that pushed the boundaries of medical science. Best of all, it was free. All they had to do was sign their bodies over to medical science for the duration of the treatment. None of them were prepared for what Praetorious would do to them. What his surgeries could accomplish. His theories on inserting wombs in odd places, and pregnancies carried out in unusual ways. Unnatural ways. Or that they would be imprisoned there, for months on end, and endure transformations that would test their sanity...
Bride of Frankencock Decades of fapping to Japanese manga and anime have warped the brain of an acclaimed surgeon. Transgender prostitutes just aren't enough anymore to sate her lust. She wants to make a true futanari - a real hermaphrodite. All she needs are the correct parts...and the patients that come to her for their bottom and top surgeries supply them! Yet for the ridiculously unrealistic proportions that the Good Doctor has in mind, she'll need more...much more...than her practice can provide. A few of her patients are going to wake up missing a few more pieces than they hoped. Of course, she did warn them that the surgery might cost an arm and a leg. The Cure Annabelle was out on a camping trip, bent over a bush to take a midnight piss, when a wolf bit on the ass. Ever since then, the once meek and shy nerd has been feeling unexpected urges...getting stronger and taller as the moon gets fuller every night...and unless someone does something, she'll carve a bloody swathe through her dorm. Fortunately for Annabelle, her friends notice that satisfying her animalistic urges helps impede the transformation. All they have to do is hold an all-night fuckfest, and Annabelle will be sated and all the young ladies will be safe for another four weeks. That's the plan, anyway. But keeping Annabelle's wolf at bay will require the young women to push past their inhibitions and try things they never imagined themselves doing...or they're really fucked.
Granny Bimbo Charlie is a motherfucker...or at least, a would-be motherfucker. His mother has been grade-A MILF material, and his perverted brain can't take it anymore. He has to fuck her...and a chance opportunity at his work gives him the means. The pharmaceutical company developed a drug to temporarily increase women's breast size, based on a medication intended to give cows bigger teats. Unfortunately, it has a few side effects - the lab rats they tried it on ceased to be able to navigate mazes, spent all their time fucking, and their fur turned blonde. Human testing was strictly not allowed, the drug was shelved to go back to formula. So Charlie figured they'd never miss a bottle or two. A few drops in his mother's favorite bottle of wine, and he hoped she'd turn so horny that she would do anything, up to and including her own son. Unfortunately for Charlie, the day he decided to enact his scheme, his mother phoned in that she was going on a business trip all weekend...and then his grandmother poured herself a glass of wine. Now Charlie has to deal with a wrinkled septuagenarian with swelling tits and a bottomless libido...and that's before he finds out about the drug's other side effects. Pumpkinseed It was a stupid dare. In the old pumpkin patch by the cemetery, where they had played as girls, Lana and her three friends each swallowed a pumpkin seed - and wondered if the Pumpkinman would put a pumpkin in their bellies. Except that night, Lana had a dream. A nightmare, really. She felt the vines hold her down in bed. Slide up her legs. Pull her panties aside and slither in. Just as they touched the deepest part of her, Lana woke up. Panting, shivering, covered in a cold sweat, with an aching nausea in her stomach. She barely managed to make it to the toilet before she threw up... ...and it was all pumpkin seeds. The dreams kept coming, night after night. So did the nausea. There were other changes as well. A slight swelling in her abdomen that no amount of diet and exercise seemed to work off. Odd cravings. A slow but steady weight gain. Her nipples changed and darkened. Now was Lana the only one. She saw it in the way her friends shifted to baggier clothes, and not just because of the cooler weather. Sudden dashes for the toilet between classes. The tell-tale dark bags under the eyes from lack of sleep. Lana didn't want to believe the Pumpkinman was real...but as her abdomen grew and grew, hard to the touch, that echoed like a gourd when she tapped it, Lana knew she had to do something...anything...to figure out what was happening. How to stop it. Before it was too late.
I've actually used some ideas for Halloween Stories. If you ever want to add everything there. Feel free.
Imposter No marriage is perfect. Yet when Beverley and Jack came back from the honeymoon, something was off. The demands in bed got more urgent...and stranger. Secrets were kept. Irrational little flares of anger. Nothing violent, but a constant, low-key sense of unfamiliarity. Friends and family brush off the concerns, yet it feels like they're married to someone else...to an imposter. In this story, there are two different tracks, one for Beverley and one for Jack, as each feels the growing sense of terror at the person that wears their spouse's face. Freddy's Virtual Nightmare It is the year 20XX. The houses on Elm Street were bought up and torn down. In their place, the corporate highrise of a new arcology. Employees of DreamWave Inc. and their families live, shop, work, and go to school entirely within the Elm Arcology...which features the latest in DreamWave's new immersive virtual reality software. When teenagers come of age at 18, a neural port is installed in the base of their neck that lets them connect with DreamWave's cyberdecks. Placed in a state of lucid dreaming, the new adults can surf the Matrix, do their schooling online, play videogames, all in an immersive virtual environment. Normally, protocols keep the users safe from any harm they suffer. But something's gone wrong. A glitch in the Matrix. A rogue element that the programmers haven't been able to eliminate from the code. A sadistic figure who twists the games and school programs into perverted fantasies to sate their inhuman lusts...and one by one, the dreamers of Elm Arcology begin to die...and anyone might be next.
Wolfmother The sexual assault happened while Lupa was blackout drunk during a camping trip. Lupa didn't even know she was pregnant until the fourth week, when the moon was full, and the sudden intense nausea brought her to her knees. Then she took a test, saw a doctor...and sure, the timing wasn't right, but she couldn't bring herself to end the pregnancy. Over the weeks and months, as she grew bigger and bigger, it became clear she was having multiples....but the worst time always came during the full moon. When her belly would seem to bulge bigger, and the babies grew more active. That wasn't the only thing that was changing. Lupa had heard that a pregnant woman's senses grew stronger. That they developed odd cravings. Yet some moonlit nights she found herself naked, eating raw hamburger, the juices running down her gravid abdomen. The dark thicket of hair between her legs grew and spread...and tiny claws scrabbled at her from the inside. They say pregnancy is a bitch...but Lupa can't tell if she's crazy, or if she really is carrying a werewolf's pups. The Stone Idol The sisters of the Convent of St. Joan have a little secret. Young women from privileged backgrounds, cloistered away from the world by families that can't afford their dowries - or the shame if their youthful indiscretions lead to bastards - are secluded there, to grow old and be forgotten, far from the sight of men. However, the convent's foundations run deep. Built on the site of a pagan temple, the sledgehammers of the old builders missed one statue. The chiseled form of a creature part man and part beast...but their member, erect and polished by the pussies of generations of nuns, remained intact. What stories that stone idol could tell, of stolen kisses at midnight. Of cruel women who forced that rigid prick past the maidenhead of young women too innocent for their own good. Of sisters who licked each other's juices off of the hard stone. The secret which could inspire jealousy and arouse lusts...could invade the dreams of holy women and drive them to unspeakable ecstasies and blasphemies...a mute smile carved on its lips, as the very foundations of the convent were stained with sin.
