Monstrous Lust

The Saga of a Erotically Monstrous Forest

Eldritch Desires:

Sex and Monsters

Bundle #7

By

E.M. Beastly

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Copyright © 2017 E.M. Beastly

Kindle Edition

Independently Published

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THERE IS ALWAYS MORE STORIES COMING OUT. IF YOU LIKE WHAT YOU READ, CHECK OUT THESE AND OTHER UPCOMING STORIES ON AMAZON.COM

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Paperback Collections

The Paperback Collection

 Paperback Collection #2

EBOOK STORY BUNDLES

The Forest of Lust Collection: Bundle #1

Beasts of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water: Bundle #2

Squirming Tentacles and other Monstrous Delights: Bundle #3

Exotic Wilds and the Beasts they Hide: Bundle #4

Howling Pleasures from Throbbing Night Treasures #5

Monstrous Seeds made from Monstrous Deeds: Bundle #6

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Let The Monstrous Lust Continue!!!

I am an author who loves the weird. I hail from the empty state of Wyoming and spend my time, when not writing erotica, reading weird stories by authors like Lovecraft, Lord Dunsany, F. Marion Crawford and others who like the strange. They inspire me to make erotic monster stories. Its fun and fascinating to explore this strange, taboo side of sexual ideas. So if you want to read erotica that explores some new territory, mixing weird monsters and hot fun, then stop on by and take a read. 

My Twitter: Where I like to share my releases and other things.
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Monstrous Lust

Table of Contents

Click on Story Link

Return of the Forest Stud.....................................................1

Night of the Mist and the Monstrous Sex............................25

The Dunwich Sex Horror.....................................................41

Made to Touch Lust's Monstrous Shadow...........................90

And Thus He Read the Stories Full of Monstrous Sex.......111

Shipwrecked in the Clutches of Lust..................................136

Whipped by the Willows.....................................................177

Return of the Forest St ud

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I was a young stablegirl at that time. Not something one would commonly find back in those days. Society was largely patriarchal out in the West. Nonetheless, Ms. Rose was something different; all those who worked on her ranch were woman.

Rose was a woman of power and authority, amongst other wonderful things. I highly respected her. I like to think more so than most, even if she walked on the strange side or that the town of Alpine liked to whisper behind her back about things concerning witchcraft. She taught me everything I know about horses. She was a fine breeder, and had herself a collection of Mustangs that she herself said came down wild from the mountains. Only she knew how to break them. That is until the years went by and I to was able to get into the round pen, roping and riding the orneriest and wildest bunch of horses you could ever find in the Rocky Mountains. I loved the mountains, the horses and other wild things that called them their home. I had a special bond with them; it was as though my soul is connected with the wild and rugged hearts of the beasts. I knew why they were rebellious; why they fought so hard to keep me from breaking them. I was able to show them by riding them hard in the round pen that they had no reason to fight me, because I was a rebel too. For that, in my third year of service, I received the assistance of two of my own apprentices to train in grooming and breaking of those magnificent wild beasts.

In the year of 1897, there were seven of us stablegirls in total. We got along splendidly with one another. Even on holidays and Sundays our sisterhood would gather at the master's house for socializing and maybe have a beer or two for all our day of hard work. During the winter months we would substitute for a hot cup of coffee, or sometimes, some fancy hot drink made with chocolate that only our master could afford. I remember our evenings next to the fireplace fondly.

Of the seven, there was Lacy Biedrom, a girl whose heart shone like gold. I liked her second only to my mistress Rose for her good heart and gentle soul. Unfortunately, she would be the first to leave us. It would not be for a long time after when I would learn where she had gone. It was unfortunate that I did not give her a proper farewell as I would be allowed with all the others.

After Lacy, I most liked Arthur, a melancholic lass whom I always liked for her masculine name and hard working, rugged and tough nature. We had nicknamed her Dray for being like a powerful draft horse. She was built big and strong, and could do the task that none of us other girls could do. She wasn't one for many words. When it came to our master Ms. Rose, she loved spending the evening quietly in one corner listening to her stories.

And no one could tell a story like Jennet Rose. Her imagination was absolutely sprawling with the fantastic. She would spin such tales of distant and far away places and of great mystical lands that bewildered us on how she could create such vivid descriptions of made-up places. She could have filled a hundred books with all her tales of mad romance and adventure. She populated them with the wildest of things; dragons, unicorns and other mystic beasts we had never heard the names of before. She would give them personalities and mannerisms that as she told her stories would make you hardly think of them as beasts. This got a little strange when she would mix in some eroticism into them. She did this more often than not. In fact, Rose did not follow the rules of proper society at all when it came to sex. No doubt it was the reason she was scorned by the townspeople. Yet, as to why they feared her I could never quite figure. She was very wealthy and did fund much of the town, but wealth couldn't command the type of fear the people had for her. She was a commanding person who spoke her mind as well as anything else she thought was worth speaking about. To her, if something sounded interesting or made you feel good, then she wasn't shy to talk about it, or throw it into her stories. Us girls had grown used to it and felt it was our special little secret, even if Rose flaunted her strange ideals so recklessly. Nonetheless, when one had the power and money our master had, she could probably gotten away with murder.

I adored my master, even with all her quirks and strange stories. She had given me everything, and for that I owed her everything. It was also nice, in its way, to be part of that power and influence that she wielded. We girls received a special kind of fear and respect from the other folk down in town. Some of us liked it more than others. I remained largely indifferent because I, with Dray, my master and a couple others, mostly stayed home on our ranch. I was happy and content on our little hill with all the forested back country behind it occupied only with my horses and my girls.

There was so much to explore there and so many secrets to unlock. I always tried to get Rose to tell me more about her land, and how she came to acquire it. Instead, by the warmth of the fireplace, she would tell us all a wild tall-tale about how she came here with a woman from Africa who once was her servant and her lover. From the Dark Continent she brought with her secrets of an ancient god. From him she learned how to open magical doors by also becoming his lover. In this tale she claimed the land behind her home originally belonged to this god, but she was able to win it for herself and bring it out here to the West so she could fully unravel it. She always said we would inherit it one day - Telling us that though her lover had left her, he would one day return to take her back. She also teased that she would share him with us; for he was a god with many lovers, and that what was hers was ours. I didn't know what that meant, and thought of it as one of the many products of her eccentric demeanor.

It was in that year of 1897 that I would come to learn that there was some truth to those tall-tales. It started in the middle of summer; Arthur "Dray" was not present in her usual corner beyond the cupboard. She was not one to miss our evening stories of Rose's tales of adventure. We thought she was simply late because it was her turn to bring hay up from old farmer Sanderson's place, and may have had wagon troubles somewhere along the way.

'She might have got sidetracked with one of Sanderson's handsome sons,' joked Beatrice, even though everyone knew Dray was not one who cared for the flirtatious advances of her own kind. Her heart belonged to the wilderness like a sailor's belonged to the sea. When she was sent on an errand, she was always one to make due haste to get home quickly, for she hated the civilized world more than most.

Nonetheless, that evening passed sadly and slowly without the presence of our most fervent listener. Only Rose seemed unconcerned and reassured us that Dray could take care of herself. And then in wild amusement she began to tell us one of her more shocking and lewd tall-tales of high eroticism. Rose played upon the idea that was presented by Beatrice, but in her story it was not one of Sanderson's sons that would woo our dear Dray.

She told the story about how the king of the wild horses had taken an interest in Dray. He was a regular in Rose's stories, and she liked to joke regularly that his spirit rested somewhere up on the mountains behind her estate. She also liked to tell the tale about how she broke this lascivious beast who once wooed her as well.

* * *

'Long ago I met him here on this mountain,' Rose began her tale.

'He was the most handsome stallion with a coat and mane as black as the mountain's shadow caste by a full moon. I never saw a stallion as brave, strong or as intelligent as he was. He would only appear at night, or when the evening light began to wane. Which made it very hard to see him if you did not know what you were looking for. But I had claimed this wilderness as mine, and that meant I too would claim this beast. So every night I would attempt to catch him. I soon learned that he could outrun and outmaneuver any steed I owned.'

'It was useless to catch him by ordinary means. No, by that time I was an experienced adventurer of mystic places. I knew too well that a line existed between what humanity understood and the ancient forces that actually exist. This was no ordinary beast, and this was his kingdom. If I ever wanted the right to call it my home I would have to earn it. And so, I called him out with the ancient tongue taught to me from my adored  African companion; her skin was just as dark as the coat and mane of that King of Stallions. She taught me how to step into his unearthly realm where no human being had ever stepped. It was forbidden for one such as me to possess that knowledge, but as I have told in an earlier tale, I had gained favor from a much older and greater force than even the 'king of horses' knew existed. It was because of this that I was able to challenge him. I proposed to him a set of three tests, and if he could best me than I would leave his mountain and with my money and power make sure that no other, man or otherwise, trespassed on his home. Yet, if I won he would submit his land, and all his mares to me to do as I pleased.'

'The first challenge was a race around his mountain. A task his majesty neighed mockingly at me for even suggesting. After all he was the king of horses, mightiest within these mountains, and he knew these hills well. He took off and covered the distance of six miles as fast as lightning can streak across a night sky. So how did I beat him you wonder? For that is what I did and to his great surprise. In fact, not only did I beat him, but also returned to meet him halfway.'

'You see there are other creatures of the wilds much faster than horses; something my African companion showed me in the wilds of Africa. She introduced me to other kings and princes of that Dark Continent. There I tested the Cheetah King and lost. Yet, for my valiant effort and because he never hunted something quite like me before, he spared me and ate only my pussy instead. I eagerly complimented him by unsheathing his cock from his body, and what a sleek and wonderful body it was. Needless to say he was so impressed by my skill as a woman that he agreed to teach me how to run as fast as he. My apprenticeship with him was an arduously long one. It wasn't that I was a slow learner, but more like I couldn't pry myself from the pleasures that his strange thorny cock provided when he raced through my insides. Then again, those were my early days of adventure and I was distracted by many things.'

'Yet, the Cheetah King made me a predator, and no king of horses could outrun me at my apex. I caught him and played the same game that had been played upon me; I chose only to devour his cock.'

'He accepted my second challenge only after his frustration from losing to his first. I challenged to box him like a rival stallion fighting for the right to herd his mares. An insult he would not take likely, for I was neither a horse nor a stallion. He reared up and towered before me with his hooves kicking as though he meant to end my life then and there. Yet, I had already played upon his other primal instincts. His body fought against his pride and the only thing he could punch me with was the animalistic desires that swelled between his legs. Still, he had a mighty punch with a fist bigger than any other man I've known. Nonetheless, I have taken punches before. I have held my own in the arena with many men of all sizes and strengths. Some like the Cheetah King even fought dirty with his fist full of thorns. Thus I had endurance to spare. As far as I am concerned, I made him fall over backwards and had ended the round before it had even begun.'

'Finally, I offered up to give back his fallen pride. That is if he could buck me off of him; I did not use a rope or saddle. Still, I was able to ride him a long time, the course of a night, in fact. He bucked hard and tried to throw me into the moon. Yet I gripped onto all of him. It was a struggle, but I managed to take his whole length inside of me. His bucking fury made my insides bounce around. I looked down and could see my abdomen heave and slosh about with him kicking around inside me. Still, I held on and rode him out. Then I rode him some more until he realized that I would get off only when I decided, and not a moment sooner. Letting me ride him was his final mistake. Just like in the round pen you ride them until they submit. Until they know you will not give in or give up. You must outlast them my apprentices. Outlast them by having more endurance than them.'

'In the end he was tired, beaten and exhausted beyond all words. He had no choice then but to submit this land to me. However, he did not come out of it completely defeated. Riding him like I did bore him two sons; which still roam this mountain to this very day.'

It was here that the story would end, as the implication of Rose's story caused all us girls to blush and giggle too much, so she would shush us all away, because we all had our chores waiting for us the next day.

I always imaged the 'King of Wild Horses' as some great Indian chief whose village once settled here under these mountains. Yet, I also had to admit on how she implied he had a horse sized cock dangling between his legs sent a strange thrill down mine. I know it was taboo to think it, but if you have worked around horses as long as I, you can't help but be amazed when a stallion unsheathes his manhood.

Before we went to bed Ms. Rose added one last thing to the story. She stated that Dray had met the King, and that the 'King of Wild Horses' had returned back to his mountain looking for a new harem.

'I was generous even if I had defeated him. I made a deal with him that if he would provide me with the best of his, then I will provide him with the best of mine.'

* * *

The next morning there was still no Dray. I volunteered to find her, as the eldest I felt it my responsibility. These girls, especially Dray, were like my own siblings. I took off as soon as I could with a spare wagon, just in case we needed it.

Old Sanderson met me at the threshold to his farm. 'I don't know, Miss. She was here, and she did pick up Rose's order of fifteen bales as per the usual. But she did seem in an awful hurry, and did leave going in the direction of the mountain pass that heads up Greys Canyon.'

I took off towards the pass myself, not knowing why Dray would take off in that direction, and with all our hay. That way only led into miles of forest and mountain land that stretched well beyond my Rose's estate. I could not find any sign of her, nor could I see her going very far with a wagon load of hay. Nonetheless, I spent most of the day searching and asking various folk in town if they had seen her. They all pointed to the canyon, but I still couldn't understand why. Eventually I returned home and asked my master to see if she would have an answer.

Rose laughed and said, 'she must have gone to the cabin, just the other side of my mountain before you get very far up the Greys.'

'A cabin?' I replied. 'I didn't know that such a cabin lay so close to your land. Who owns it?'

'I do, but it has been deserted for many years. It once belonged to an artist. Haven't I told you that story before? Anyway, Dray must have found it and decided to stay there for the night. You know how she can be when it comes to her seclusion. The cabin is nestled very deep in my woods, which is the place she likes best. Don't worry, I will send Jalin tomorrow to retrieve the wagon at the very least.'

I protested that it should be me who should be responsible, but Rose would not have it. 'You've spent most of this day searching already. I need you here tomorrow to watch the estate as I have business in town. You must take charge in my leave. Don't worry, Jalin also knows the whereabouts of this cabin, and so shall you in time.'

I remember Rose once telling us the tale of the artist and his cabin which burned up long ago. Yet, I never knew it was on Rose's estate and was surprised to have never run across it myself. More surprising was some of the other girls already knew where it was even though I was the eldest and siring my own apprentices next to my master. Yet, as I reflect back on it now, Rose's land was vast, and filled with many secrets. There were places even I did not venture into for they seemed forbidden somehow. Perhaps, it was because of those stories told by our mistress on cold evenings by the fireplace. All us girls had come to love this land. Yet somehow, through Rose's dark and strange tales, each of us had grown our own superstitions towards it. After all, Rose was considered a witch by many of the locals. I had learned to accept her as simply being overly secretive, eccentric and strange. Yet, when Jalin never returned the next day, is when I would come to learn that there was something more to Rose's crazy stories.

'Where is Jalin and Dray? Didn't you say they should be back by now? It has been two days.' I had asked with great worry. I was already leaping for my saddle and my horse.

Rose forcibly stopped me. 'I won't let you go alone. You are my eldest and most experienced student, but alas you are also the most in the dark. Kalina you are the best at what you do here on my estate, I have never had a girl as talented at what you do. You also love the country and are a good companion to my other girls. Yet, I never thought you fitting for this place. You may be wild and free spirited, but my home is much more than a haven for a country girl. There is an air of truth to my stories Kalina. Perhaps, it is long past due that tomorrow I will show them to you, because the King of my wild horses has indeed returned.'

I did not sleep well that night. I kept thinking about what Rose had told me. She was secretive and strange, but I never thought I would be the one left out on secrets she would tell the others. Nonetheless, I was not surprised that there were places on her property I did not know about. I wanted to believe I had explored the majority of her property, yet, there were still places I did not feel at ease with and always avoided.

I got up early and did my chores, and the day went by as per any usual day. Only that evening, instead of our usual get to together by the fireplace, I met Rose by the stables and we saddled our horses. The cabin was easier and faster to get to by the road in town that led into Greys Canyon; the same route Dray took. Rose informed me it was why I had never found it. Going through her property to get to it meant going through a part of her estate she called Gnole [1] territory. Something of an oddity produced from her strange stories, one that tended to be explicitly more erotic than most. Gnoles were like bogymen, except furrier and with a heavy sexual apatite. All us girls were told to stay clear of their lands unless we wanted to be hauled away and ravaged with more dicks than we could handle - to put it lewdly. I never believed her, but that area she claimed was theirs made me uncomfortable all the same. 

We made our way down the road toward Greys Canyon until Rose changed course to go up a mountain slope. 'Here it is,' she said as she pointed out a feint trail mostly covered in foliage. 'Never knew this was here did you. Richard Sickert's cabin lies up ahead. The artist who once painted a scene out of hell for me and got burned because of it. [2] '

It was a rather famous story, even the townsfolk knew about Richard the artist. Yet, I thought the cabin burned down, or so that's how the story went.

'Oh it did, all burnt away except the foundation.' explained Rose. 'But, old phantoms like Richard's masterpiece don't simply burn away. Now it has become a gathering place of sorts, and a backdoor to my domain. I suspect the King had convinced Dray to meet him there. She never went into town much, not willingly of course, but I suppose her errand to the Sanderson's gave her an excuse.'

'You will find the King to be crafty and seductive, just the sort that Dray or any of my other girls would fall for. However, you don't need to be concerned. You have a different taste, if I'm not mistaken, and I rarely am.' Rose finished with a matter-of-fact tone.

'Whatever do you mean?' I asked as I blushed while trying to act innocent.

'You don't have to hide it from me, though I know you try. You're too reserved, and to indoctrinated by what the town below says is right or wrong. Nonetheless, you have a fondness for woman, Dray in particular. I have caught you admiring her body in a way that would arouse a man. I must admit, she does have a fine body that is very well built for lady. She is why we are going out here. You care deeply for Dray, and more than just as a friend and her mentor. It is a shame you never opened yourself up. You were never meant to be a mare for the King. But perhaps before she leaves us, Dray may still enjoy our company.'

We continued along the barely visible path up the hillside quietly for a time. I guess I should have known better than to hide my true feelings from my master. She had known all along about my admiration of Dray, and I did not doubt she knew how I admired her as well. It was true, men did not arouse me.

Dray was a woman I had never knew the likes could exist. She with such a stout form; she really could have been a Belgian draft horse in another life. I would spend many evening while listening to our master's lewd tales fantasizing about her body. They were my private fantasies of where I could get near her when nobody else could. Then I would touch her where nobody else should. I wanted to feel the strength of her body with my own hands. God she always smelled like the horses and hay. For a country girl like myself, it was the best scent she could have.

Many times I resisted the urge to watch her undress. I had to scold myself from sneaking outside, and then like some peeping tom, climb a tree to watch her from her bedroom window. It is hardly proper for a man to do it, but a lady? However, the more I scolded myself, the more I couldn't resist thinking about it. I shamelessly pleased myself more than one night under my sheets. My fingers trying to draw all her hefty and hard-iron curves of her beautiful form down onto my most private areas.

Oh, how I wanted those rippling abs and her toned body. It is still hard to imagine that a woman had such a masculine figure, or that I would be so into it. I frequently imagine those abs sliding through my legs. Then when I imagined her breasts; no, those beautiful mountains of flesh coming down to land on my groin, I would nearly feint. Oh, what a naughty mind and dirty thoughts, but once I had pulled myself in it was like a heavy chain falling - the rest of the links soon catching up as the weight of the other pulled them down. I would become flustered with images of temptation. It was like my own mind was teasing me with all these wildly lewd questions.

 'What if she fully lay on top of you?' my mind would ask itself. 'What if you, instead lay naked on top of her? She could easily handle all your weight. Do you think she has a very big clitoris, what would happen if hers were to touch mine?'

'Why didn't you ever find out?' Rose said, interrupting my thoughts.

'You know I am not against it,' Rose continued, 'your sexual preferences never bothered me, I've always known. In truth, it would have been amusing for you to approach any of my girls. You might even had some fun if you would've approached me.'

'Ma...master!'

'I guess you haven't been listening very well to my stories. Though I do admit, there weren't very many love stories between women. But I always thought my sexuality was very revealing... I guess I should have been more blunt? Well, I guess current events have led to their own solution. The cabin is just ahead.'

It was a large cabin, more than a single room lodge that most types would build or afford. The cabin was roughly around twenty-five cubic feet. It sported a short patio with a hand-crafted swinging bench. On one side of the cabin was an old stone mason chimney that reached all the way to the top of the shallow-vaulted thatched roof. It looked run down, yet, there were no signs of there ever being a fire.

'Old phantoms don't burn away,' Rose repeated. 'Old Richard was burned for his sins against me, my girls and his own daughter. Nonetheless, I prefer love over war. He gave me what I wanted, and well, let me just say things are better now.'

'What you will have to do is ready yourself for what awaits us inside. My stories aren't quite the tall-tales you believe them to be' Rose added as we tethered our animals at the hitching post. Rose led the way to the door and opened it without even a knock.

The inside of the cabin was dark and nothing was stirring. Only eerie silence ruled here. Still, I felt something bellow out of that cabin door once it opened. It was an intense feeling: Terrifying, strange, and was not at all unfamiliar. Many places deep in Rose's land felt like this. Here it was condensed and heavier; choking me with its hot air.

Rose was going to have me wait awhile as she took to going inside. I would not have it and quickly stepped in before her. A smell of smoke and something else blew over us as I forced my way.

'Are you sure about this?' Is all I heard Rose say.

And I called back, 'this is my affair,' for I knew that something was amiss even if all was quiet and dark. I was attracted to a far back wall. It was hard to see in the gloom, and I thought it was cast in deep shadow. But its black stains were actually soot and ash caked on thick. Oddly, it was warm. I wiped my fingers across the crust and felt something like velvet underneath. It scared me because a spark and a flame popped between my fingers as they ran. I heard faintly a distant neighing of a great beast, and the sparks and flame were soon gone. Instead, bright colors shown through on canvas. There was a painting under all this soot.

I don't know what came over me, but I needed to see what this was before me. The painting seemed fresh as if the paint had only just dried. The soot wiped off cleanly, but I still thought I saw a spark or two. And then there she was, my girl Dray...

Immortalized in canvas, my Dray was there naked, beautiful and strong. She was riding him, the most magnificent stallion I had ever seen. He was jet black, all except his mane and tail which was a burning crimson flame. The flame curled around his ankles and also shot forth from his nostrils, some even glowed brightly within his eyes. He was rearing up with excitement. Jalin was also depicted there, just as naked and beautiful. She was not riding the stallion like Dray was. Dray was the one in control of this fiery beast. A surge of pride ran through me for knew she learned her skills from me. It was she who was causing him to buck and rear with hellish fury.

'That's my apprentice...' I remember saying in my excitement.

Then it all began to move, the fires almost leaping from the canvas. I couldn't believe what I was witnessing and backed away. I fell on my ass trying to defend myself with my arms held like shields against the fire and the rearing beast. The painting was so large and the horse so prominent, it felt like it could fall down on top of me.

The image transformed before my eyes, and soon the Stallion had a shape of a man. However, just as all of my master's stories did tell, he was still a horse in many great ways: His head, hooves and even his tail all still brilliantly burning in crimson flames.

And even though he glowed hot, so much so that I thought I could feel his heat radiate out of the picture, he did not sear the skin of my Dray as he grabbed her from behind and lifted her into the air.

What happened next caused my own skin to become red and hot. Dray's body was brought down to connect with the fiery studs. I worked around horses most my life; you don't do so without seeing a stud's cock hanging down a time or two. Never did I think I would see such a thing breed a woman, especially my dear Dray. Rose had always hinted at such things, but I always thought she talked in a metaphorical manner; as in the men in her stories were only hung like a horse. This monster was hung like a horse, he was a horse - or had been a horse. I couldn't figure it out. The two features of what was beast and what was man were so interconnected that I couldn't tell one from the other. The depiction of flames didn't help, especially when his thick, hot cock was literally hot - as in it was glowing red like iron caste from a blacksmith's forge. It made me cringe to see it penetrate dear Dray.

Yet, she was excited for it, and so was Jalin. She was there to lick the penetrating length of his hot steel as it sizzled its way into Dray's wet body that quenched his steel. The glow of the shaft was reflecting off of Jalin's sweat. Steam hissed off of her tongue as she stroked the length that she could outside of Dray's body. Yet, the unbelievable heat did not seam to bother either her nor Dray.

I was still trying to wrap my mind around that this was a painting, one that was constantly rearranging the paint while both fire and smoke bellowed out from it. In truth, I can't remember what I was doing; I think I was calling out to my master Rose in my confusion and distress. I know that at sometime she came to my rescue. But how much time passed before she came to pick me off the floor I can not say. My memory can only recall that image forever burned into it. I was stunned with awe and fear at that time, but now I remember it fondly as one of my most precious of memories.

Dray, was always a distant and beautifully unique flower. Always quiet and always preferring the hills and horses over anything else, even over us other girls who worked the stables with her. I loved her the most, but I knew that I could never have her. Oh how, I would fantasize about me and her, and how I still envy that beast with his glowing cock of sexual power. But Dray was meant for something else...'The King of Wild Horses' was the only man fitting for a beautiful work horse like Dray. I was happy that she found the picturesque place for herself. I am happy that I was allowed to experience it with her. For the first time, I could truly admire her naked body in all her muscular and powerful glory.

I watched her body ripple as she bounced up and down. Her firm breasts, which I was known to joke as being made of muscle like the rest of her body, now bounced fluid and femininely. Her hard demeanor and rigid body built to withstand this cold and harsh world, melted in the strong arms of that fiery lover she must have come to know long ago. Even now, I lay jealous of him.

'Yes, she belongs to him now.' I remember Rose saying as she came to comfort me from behind. 'All my girls do, and they always have, all except for you. You were always into my mares instead.'

'Don't cry my dear. Though you do not belong to him, you are still one of my mares and one of the best I ever had. That fiery beast may be my husband, but our relationship has always been an open one. If you will not have him, he won't reject if you would rather embrace me instead.'

I could feel my master hold me tight into her naked bosom. It took me awhile to realize in the heat and confusion that she too was now naked. Being embraced by my master in such a manner was inconceivable even in my wildest dreams. I never did dare spy upon her like I had tried with the girls; it was more taboo than anything else. I even feared to daydream it. She was my whole world; my goddess whom I had made as a sacred mother to us girls.

She held me and said, 'It's ok Kalina, if you prefer the touch of girls over boys. I am more than willing to share mine. Don't let this moment go to waste.'

 I was stunned as she began to unbutton my shirt while she held me in her lap like a wounded child. I had to be dreaming, more than my wildest wishes were coming true. I was always so scared to ask or approach anyone is such a sensual way. Miss Rose was my master who I adored and would do anything for. Yet, our relationship had always been professional. Even though she was an outspoken individual with lewd stories to tell, there was still a certain stigma of my culture that I had been indoctrinated in; I kept my love interests to myself. Working for my master and with the others was enough. Now I was getting something more. The surreal scene of fire and smoke instantly became distant as my master, the one person of all my greatest and deepest desires, kissed me. It was a long and passionate kiss. My very first with a woman and surely the very best I have ever had. My body simply let go of all its worries and went limp to allow her to take me, and it was everything I had hoped it would be and more.

Dray and her fiery partner became our fire place for us to share our passion. Dray, my beautiful pupil, how I wish I could have had you as well. If only I had shared my true feelings with you sooner. Alas, you're the King's mare now. I was busy caught up with the attitude of the world, even when I was trying to escape it. Rose had all the answers in her stories, but I chose to brush them off as nothing more than silly tall-tales. At least, before you go, I got to see you like this, happy and where you belong. While you showed me all of your gorgeous body for the first and last time while Rose ravished mine.

And that is all it was, a moment of wild unabated passion and lust with the ones I had always admired and loved. Rose did all the work. Before I knew it I was rolling around the old cabin's floor on top of both mine and Rose's clothes we had shed. Rose was on top of me, taking the lead as was her habit. She was power, both graceful and raw. It was why the people feared her, and why they let her have her way. From me it demanded both my respect and my heart. I loved her and I lusted for her. She whispered in my ear that it was ok to do so. There was no reason not to enjoy the things we long for, even if it is only briefly.

I could not tell if the fires from the unnatural canvas of moving paint were what warmed me, or if it was my master's body pressing so hard into mine. Her red hair was much like the fires that leaped out at us; burning and brilliant as it cascaded over my tender flesh. The searing cock of that wild beast penetrating Dray was nothing compared to Rose's hot lips as they seared my neck and breasts. She suckled on my nipples until they were so hot that I felt that they too would glow like the flaming stallion's cock.

Further and further she worked down my body. My body was sweating with excited anticipation to where she was going with her tongue. My god, my master's tongue was tasting my deepest desires that lay hidden for so long. I squealed but I did not dare squirm against my master. Instead, I opened my eyes to the burning climax that Rose's tongue playing out on my clitoris. God, she was an expert at everything, even pleasing other woman. Rose, you truly are a goddess of talent and secrets. I am so glad you taunt me the lessons to be who I am, even though I still don't know who you are. You gave me everything and asked for nothing. Even when I opened my eyes in ecstasy, you gave me more than I could ever hoped; the image of Dray's perfect and wonderful body smiling back at me in her own moment of ecstasy. 

The King was also cumming. His burning shaft throbbing and his milk boiled out of Dray. Jalin lapped it up as best she could as it came rolling out. For a moment I wished I was in her place licking those juices from my dear Dray. However, that painting wasn't my world. The fires didn't burn the flesh but it did brand the soul. It was best to stay with Rose. She was correct that I did not want to become no stallion's pet. Because when he was done with Dray, it was Jalin's turn to feel the cock.

I much preferred my treasure instead. Rose's tongue was worth a thousand cocks, even if those cocks belonged to beastly men of a fantastic place. All the magic in the world, and I would still pick the beauty of my girls, and most importantly my master Rose.

'That is why I have trained you,' my master said, as she kissed and nipped at my ear. 'I need someone who can find me more girls. It is why you were allowed apprentices and be my second in command. I knew you would work better with them than anyone else. I hope now you will be less reserved about yourself too.'

'And what of Dray and the others?' I asked in a yelp to her playful fingers running deep between my legs.

'They will go with him, for he has seduced all of them but you. That's because you belong to me.'

'I guess we both had our secrets.' I whispered up at Dray as I watched her love and lust for that kingly stallion and his fiery cock. She couldn't hear me. The painting was a one way mirror. I could watch her have the time of her life. Enjoy watching her naked body without regret or shame, even if I was jealous of her lover.

If not for Rose embracing me for who I was, I would have broke down in sorrow from the loss of my dear Dray. But Rose was there, and she was touching me, kissing me, and loving me to such an extent that I finally knew who I was. So finally, I took my turn and embraced my desires. I wrapped myself completely around my Rose. I smothered my face into her bosom as I worked to do the same to her as she had to me. Down her stomach I went with my tongue until I reached between her legs. Her taste was hot like cider, and just as tart. I was taken over by my impulse to indulge my desires. I was allowed to break free from all my personal confinements of right and wrong and enjoy what I had always secretly sought. Rose opened her body up to me in ways I wouldn't allow myself to even dream in fear of retaliation.

Now I was trying to match the 'King of Wild Horses' within his painted realm, I wanted to be better than him and please my Rose so that Dray would see I was the better lover. I knew I was out of my league. He was a monster who had bred more mares than I would ever know. His cock was a god's tool for sex and pleasure. Jalin couldn't stand that pleasure as she squirmed and squealed underneath him. He was standing over her with his glowing cock plowing deep into her. Jalin was bent upwards, nearly standing on her head. Dray was being held aloft by her legs upside down as the king licked out his molten mess from her smothered pussy. Both girls tossed and dangled about like prizes to his monstrous size and power. I had no chance to beat that kind of sexual power, but dammit I sure did try. I buried my face deep into Rose's flesh, licking and biting every bit of her. She played along with me, squirming and cooing encouragingly.

'Yes, right here, lick here' or ' bite and kiss me there.' She would lecture as she put on a show for our audience. She could move very artistically when she wanted. Her very motions an erotic dance that made me hornier even when I was already eating out her pussy. She then grabbed my hair and forced my tongue deeper as she commanded me to please her until she came. It reminded me of how forceful a person she was, and how I had come to call her master. I had not choice but to obey as she forced me against her, almost drowning me in her sex.

She was harsh, but I loved it. I loved it so much that I pressed my fingers to my clit and used my other hand to squeeze my tits. Seeing this, my master pulled me aside forcefully by the hair and laid me out as she sat upon my face. She bent down and devoured my again but not without forcing her crotch upon my lips as she did so. I squealed and wailed but did not disobey.

The temperature began to rise, and I felt flames flicker around my skin. My face was buried too deeply to see what was going on, but I could distinctively hear the neighing of the flaming stud king. He must have cum again. However, with my lips and tongue working hard to please my Rose, I could only imagine what kind of monstrous blast of molten cum was drowning Jalin.

 It seemed the more I worked and pleasured my master, or the further I sunk my face and tongue deep into her well of pleasure, the hotter the area around that fiery canvas became. Rose would not relent and persisted that I stay beneath her. She was still masterful with her tongue and fingers, and I tried to moan out my pleasure. Yet, she insisted that I did not move or see anything going on around me. I was almost suffocating in her juices.

'Kalina, please promise me...' My Rose sputtered out. I could barely hear her with my head buried so deeply and tongue working so diligently.

'Promise me that my faith in you was not unfounded. You are my best apprentice, and I need somebody to run the place while I am gone. My husband is very persistent; I can't keep him waiting much longer. Oh, oh yes! Yes!'

Rose began to moan and groan with ecstasy. I was proud of myself for accomplishing the task given to me. Rose's wails got wilder, and the temperature rose higher. The sweat was already pouring from our skin. I heard the roaring of a great inferno, which intensified when the weight of Rose's body lifted from my chest. She was done with me tasting her, and I saw her lifted away from me by that fiery black beast. I reached up for my precious Rose not wanting our moment to end. 

It seemed like I was in the painting now. Fire raging all around me, and I had been to busy pleasuring my Rose to notice or care. The heat was intense but somehow arousing. Nonetheless, the King, Rose's husband, had decided he wanted her back. He wrapped her around his chest. His long face nuzzled all over her neck and bosom as his mane whipped fire about her. She was loving the rough treatment his big lips where giving her breasts. He pushed and prodded vigorously with his big horse's snout, snorting fire as he played.

I was left only to watch her be taken away from me. Watch as her body was pulled down to meet his cock much in the same manner as Dray. The thick, glowing shaft sinking in where I had worked so hard to moisten with my passion. My saliva and the juices of my Rose's delight blew away instantly as steam from the impact of his heat.

Again, I met despair as the flames around me intensified. I tried to reach out for her, but the flames had already claimed everything. I was only left with her moans of pleasure and lustful excitement from her reuniting with her husband.

The whole cabin had become a blazing inferno. I do not know how I was not getting burned, for the flames were so intense I could barely see. I only felt a guided hand wrap around my waist and hug me. Dray is the only who had the strength to hug me that way. She whispered in my ear as she led me somewhere.

'Thank you my friend for seeing us off, but please understand this is where I belong. You belong with the other girls, that has always been your place. Please make sure there will always be woman, like you and like us, who find a welcoming home of love and maybe a little lust. You're in charge now, don't forget who you are, or what your desires seek.' Then I felt her kiss, a long and passionate one...

I walked away from the ashes, naked and dirty with ash and soot. The cabin was nothing but a ruined foundation. Dray, Rose and Jalin were gone. However, though I haven't gone back to check, I know that old phantoms don't burn away. Sometimes one of my lovely apprentices disappears, and it reminds me who actually owns this property. Nonetheless, I love all my girls and share with them all that Rose has taught me, until the day she returns to claim what is hers once again.

The Mist and the Mons trous Sex

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* * *

I love the night and how its darkness blankets everything in mystery. I love staying up late and being alone in this big house. It makes for a good time to let my imagination run wild. Most fear the dark unknown and wish to avoid it. I like to wonder the halls and peer out through my windows into the dark woods, pondering over what adventures could be awaiting me there. Then I frighten myself delightfully over the unseen dangers that could be associated with those adventures. If I'm feeling more frisky, then those dangers become something a bit naughtier.

Perhaps, it is a dark and handsome stranger skulking in the shadows to knock on my door. Maybe he sneaks in through an open window and is ready to pounce me now from a shadowed corner; maybe he is hiding behind the drapes. He is no ordinary predator; my imagination isn't so simple to make him so plain. Maybe the stranger is some mythic creature of the night. A handsome vampire who has come to suck all my blood, and as I lay sleeping, he prowls. He sees me there on the couch; the glow of the television spotlights my long and exposed neck. I'm easy prey, he just has to bend down and take his bite.

Just as he is about to take it, something changes his mind. Maybe it's because this is too easy, maybe it's because I left the television running on some highly erotic broadcasting; a girl has her needs after all. Maybe, and the one I like imagining most, I am too irresistible as I lay there peacefully and fully naked - it is my fantasy after all.

He finds himself moving his teeth and tongue from my neck down to my breasts, and then across my stomach. Before he knows it, he is giving me cunninglingus. He just can't help himself, because, after-all he is a monster. That would be a frighteningly fun thing to wake up to.

However, though vampires are all well and good, I like to go all out. Real monsters, the taboo stuff, are what really gets my gander. Something that can be a little cute, a whole lot ferocious, and have those really distinct features about him that are just awesome. A werewolf would really hunt me down, and it would be really fun to play 'hide and seek' with if I knew it was going to pin me down, rip off my clothes, and sink his big, strange cock deep into me. An inhuman cock of a feral beast being inside my pussy and touching my womb, its swollen knot tying me to him as it puts pressure against my clitoris. You have to admit that nature has some weird junk out there, and my imagination can create some weirder ones still. Tentacles are all the rave in Japan, and they definitely have some interestingly fun shapes to please a woman. Combine that with a warm furry body, or even an interesting alien one to play with, and I can have a nights full of fun, fanciful entertainment.

Of course, I have always been a buff for horror movies, comics, and everything of the like that helps me stimulate these wild emotions. Watching, listening or reading until I fill myself with fright. I then look twice at every dark corner or every bump in the night, asking myself if such a monster would be hiding there, if he would be horny, and would he be interesting to fuck. You would be amazed at how many times I have said yes. Sometimes, however, such frightfully sexy thoughts can get out of hand. The right atmosphere and the right series of events can lead to one of those nights that can make you wonder if maybe, just maybe, you had one too many horror stories. It didn't help that I found that station.

Let me explain. I have this rather large stereo system from the 1980's. It's big and clunky with all these dials for sound quality and the like. I don't really profess I know what everything on it does or how it all works, but I do like playing with the AM/FM radio, especially during the witching hours. The thing has a rather large antenna, and with some experimentation I have found some interesting radio stations. Once, I even pick up someone's telephone - Don't ask me how it worked. All I did was wrap some wire around a tall metal lamp, touched it to the stereo system's antenna, and with a bit of luck with the lamps positioning I was listening to some old grandma talking to her grandchild. Yet, my greatest discoveries were the radio talk shows. They must have all been done out of some guy's garage or something. They mostly were all just a bunch of conspiracy bullshit about ghosts and aliens, but they were fun all the same. Somebody would always call in and tell their story about the haunted house they lived in, the demon that possessed their child, or the aliens that snatched them while they slept. It was all the things I loved listening to, and sometimes a story would come in that sent shivers down my spine.

One late night I was listening to a station called 'Night Wire.' It was running the usual sort of stuff: Bigfoot, aliens, what is NASA hiding on Mars - but I was only half listening. Then sometime after midnight a female caller came in that was more frantic and hyper than most:

"Hello caller, what kind of strange encounter have you had with the paranormal?" The radio host answered in typical fashion.

Hello... Hello! I didn't know who else to call. I can't seem to contact anyone else; not the police, the fire department, nobody in my town. A heavy mist has settled over everything. Traffic has stopped and the mist hangs like a pall over everything. It's thick and heavy. No light is seemingly able to pierce it. I see it covering the town from my home. I'm on a hill so it hasn't reached me yet, and some of the houses below me haven't been touched, but its coming! Can anyone hear me?

"Caller, can you tell us where you are calling from? Can you tell us who you are? Caller? Caller are you there?" the host asked, but he received no reply. There was only silence over the line which echoed as light static over my old radio.

That was all there was. I didn't think much of it, nor did the radio host. He even committed in a light chuckle that it was probably a prank call as he went back to answering other calls concerning the usual alien abductions and Bigfoot sightings. However, five minutes later...

Hello... Hello! To anyone who can hear me. The fog has increased noticeably. The town of Enipla is almost completely engulfed. Only the very tops of some of tallest homes and buildings can be seen. God, there is something moving in the fog...

"Caller... who is this? Can you give us more information of who you are and where you're from? Caller? Can you give me a better description of what is going on...caller?" The host kept asking, but either the female voice on the other end of the line could not hear him, or was simply ignoring him.

There is something in the fog. The moon is out and it is so bright and so full. Its light is illuminating the whole area and making the fog seem to glow with a strange luminescence. Things are moving inside of it. I don't know what they are, but I don't think they are people...There, just now, did you hear that? Sounds coming from one of the nearby homes just down the hill from me. The fog swallowed the house whole, and now...the screams, somebody is screaming!

Indeed, a wailing cry was distinctively heard over the line. I would not have called it a scream. It lacked a certain convection that was associated with revealed terrors. I, as did the radio host, immediately assumed the false nature of the act. Nonetheless, the host was amused regardless and continued to play along.

"Sounds like you have a predicament caller. You say that this fog completely surrounds your home? Can you describe this fog more in detail? Do you know who the person crying out is? Caller?..."

He asked questions in a half amused tone. These unusual proceedings added a unique twist to his show. So much so that it was hard not to believe he had not helped to set up this whole endeavor.

Still, there was something about the caller and the distant wails coming over the lines that struck a cord with me. It had an air of familiarity that I couldn't place a finger on. I strained to listen to this puzzle that I found bewildering.

...And then more wails started to come across the line. They were distant but distinct. A whole chorus began to accompany the caller's words from the background. The wails were made up of low and slow groans and moans. It would have sounded like all the dead, damned souls had risen from their graves if there hadn't been a pleasant ring to their melody. The wailers simply were enjoying themselves way to much to be believable. The caller continued on with her description in a way that seemed to dismiss the host and his show. She rambled frantically; just hoping that somebody was listening to her on the other end.

I see shapes in the fog. They are inhuman shadows that move in the glow. They stalk and move about as though hunting something. I don't know if they have seen me watching from the windows of my home, but I am afraid they might be stalking me. Other shadows in the glowing fog converge together in some sort of twisted mass. The air is hot, and humid. Everything about the night is strange. Even the moon seems morbidly large and grinning. I want to say it is its light that makes the fog glow, but I fear it is not. The fog is alive and it's crawling up my hill! It's alive and it is calling to me!

For a time the caller didn't respond but she had not hang up. The radio host tried to get a response, but all that was heard was heavy breathing and the rushed sounds of her running about through her home slamming doors and windows while knocking objects over in the process. Through it all, the background sounds of the wailing voices got louder and more harmonies. They seemed to be a mix of men, woman and bestial sounds. These alien sounds added a genuinely spooky quality to what was coming over my speakers.

They did not seem to faze the host in any way, which caused me to call his station's ethics into question. For the more I listened, the more I was certain the sounds were distinctively those produced by raw passion and heated lust. Was there a porno running in the background, or better yet, multiple televisions blaring all at once with adult entertainment? The more I listened, the more I was convinced of it. Yet, the host surely did not seem disturbed by it as he continued to call out for the caller to reply and continue her description of the events unfolding.

 This moaning, giggling cacophony coming through my old stereo that made me stop and put my full attention into this broadcast. I had to smile at my bewilderment from the wild noises of what could only be naked bodies being pressed hard against each other. The longer I listened the more I began to tune out the host's pleas, or the caller's frantic noises. All I could focus on was those passionate sounds as I imagined the townspeople of this strange town of Enipla all under an enchanting spell cast by the fog. Just as the caller had mentioned, it was indeed a hot and humid night and the moon was big and bright in the sky. As I viewed it through my window I couldn't remember it ever being quite so big before. It fueled my powerful imagination, letting my mind conceive glistening bodies dripping with sweat as they swayed energetically engulfed in that glowing mist. There must have been many naked bodies jostling about to make that much noise: An orgy of townsfolk possessed by forces unseen.

Images of woman sandwiched between two or more men invaded my thoughts. It was something I always wanted to try. Alas, I was too shy, but my imagination was not. Nor was this the first time I had imagined such a thing. This night just happened to be the perfect one for such a dream quest. I had all the lights turned down. Only the light of the absurdly large gibbous moon pouring through my windows in ghastly rays provided most of my homes illumination. While my late night radio station provided the perfect music to accompany my delicious naughty visions. A spooky cacophony of orgiastic sounds, and a bewildered caller frightened of an encroaching unknown. As she told about whatever was making those sounds getting closer and closer to her, threatening to suck her into the fray of noises, I could only dream of what kind of delightful things waiting to pounce on her and tear the clothes off her body to ravage her. 

My mind began to shape this encroaching mist that caused the townsfolk to dance naked in its shrouding mystery. Was it so thick that they couldn't even make out the finer details of each others bodies? Could they only grope at the dark silhouettes cast in the mist's glow? The mist swirling around their fingers as they reached out for the sexy and shapely curves of a naked neighbors outline. The shadows of pointy nipples on perky breasts being brought down to meet the shadows of rock-hard cocks. I imagined that these shadowy spears of manliness stood out very distinctively in the fog's glow proudly announcing themselves to those watching this fog move to engulf them as if it were some gelatinous creature oozing closer towards their homes. Until they too were swallowed up by it, and their shadowed silhouette was made to embrace the figures inside. Those proud appendages merging their shadows into one mass. The mass squirming and moaning in the convergence of those it had engulfed. The outlines of lips and hands trying to find the outlines of the cocks and breasts. Hips are conjoined together in thrusting motions. Some coming from the front while other silhouettes take it from behind. The mist itself hungry and horny, grows larger with every new victim it stuffs inside itself.

What an interesting and entertaining erotic horror flick that could be, someone should make a movie of it right away. However, something else in the broadcast caught my attention that sent my imagination into new wild delights. I sat straining my ear to hear the details of this event unfolding. Ignoring the host who I found only to be a nuisance, the caller continued her story periodically through the pauses of rushed movement and clattering of objects. I was impressed she managed to keep on the phone at all, but she seemed adamant that somebody should hear her events unfold.

It surrounds my house now... Can you hear it trying to get in? I have locked all the windows and bolted all the doors, but there are too many cracks... I have fled to the attic of my house. There are only a few windows up here, and one trapdoor entrance, but I fear it won't be enough. I don't know if anybody can hear me, but you need to know that it is coming. The night is alive and has heard your desires and it is cumming. Soon I will be joining it; there is nothing more I can do... You must hear this; hear the hungry voices in the dark. If you can hear me, then you should be able to hear it calling. They are loudly wailing below me, they are well into my home now. It creeps up the stairs to the second floor. Can you hear it?

That is when I heard it. It was something monstrous and inhuman; like the sound of some great beast was part of that cacophony, perhaps it was even responsible for it. My imagination exploded. There on my old stereo were the sounds of my darkest lusty desires come to life. Maybe it was just me imposing my will onto those sounds, wanting it to be something it was not. Nonetheless, I heard the growls and roars of a stalking creature of the night and it was getting ever louder over my stereo.

Maybe I was interpreting it all wrong, but even so, I wasn't about to let that discourage me. My mind went to work writing up a fantastic story to explain it. First I thought of werewolves, because they were an easy one to fathom. That and I always did want to try a lupine lover. A perfect combination of man and beast, feral and wild, he would possess strong, sexy features: Arms, legs, and a burly chest with sharp masculine features that proclaimed his predatory nature. Yet, his fluffy and soft fur would make him warm and soft to cuddle with. To think that this fog could be filled with an entire pack, or even better the entire town of Enipla was turning into these wild things for their love making, was something I couldn't help but enjoy.

Yes, a dark, enchanting mist that turned the townspeople into sex hungry feral beasts who all entwine themselves into a massive orgy. All the men of the town now sporting big, meaty wolfen cocks with nasty knots at the bases. It was a taboo thought, but that is what I wanted. If the monstrous night was to attack me, I wanted it to fill me with surprises. I wanted gnarly cocks with interesting features: purple cocks with studded bases, big red cocks with nasty knots that swelled inside me and punched against my clitoris. I imagined spiraling dicks as well as thorny ones, and soon my mind went from werewolves to crazier things. I have to admit I am a dirty dreaming slut.

There was more being said over the radio from both the host and caller. Yet, all I could hear was that ambient hum in the background that was getting louder, and getting closer. Small details of this strange town called Enipla made me reflect on my own home which also sat upon a hill secluded in trees and wilderness. It both excited and scared me when, for just a moment, I thought that outside my window a deep mist was rising over the hills and valleys of my home. Or that it was beginning to creep in through an open window somewhere just now. I checked again by taking a closer examination out my windows and I still swore I saw in the distant streets of the town below the great shadows of things dancing down in the ghostly moonlight glow.

Forever on my stereo with a static hiss chanted out the cacophony of lust. I could make out distinct voices inside of it now. The voices of men and woman cried out to be fucked and craving for their multiple partners to put cocks and tongues deep inside of them. They craved to have those nasty knotted cocks to either thrust fast or to thrust slow. Some exclaimed they were cumming, others already shooting white loads as their partners told them where they wanted the cum to splash all over their glistening bodies. They continued to call out to each other and call out to my wanting imagination; fueling my desires with taboo images that it could use to fill in the blanks of the radio's descriptive sounds.

I had gotten naked; strewing my clothes all across the living room floor. The warm and moist night air felt great across my skin. I had taken to my leather recliner. I am keen to keep the suede soft and supple to make it feel warm and alive as I curled up in it on just such nights. The heavy breathing of a growling beast hissed loudly through my stereo, making me rub my breasts and stomach deeply into its cushions. I wrapped my arms around it to dig my fingers into its backside when the sound of some ancient roaring beast was obviously making long, powerful thrusts to his mate. I could tell by the undulating sound effect his thrusts made on my stereo speakers. I groaned to match them, thrusting myself across the suede as though it was the great beast's body. My mind desperately trying to emulate the feeling of his meaty cock penetrating deep inside me. I pretend he is pounding against my uterus, and I reach my fingers between my legs to feel his shaft violate me. My pussy is hot and moist from the heat of the night. I swipe it across the soft fuzz of my chair to try and simulate something monstrous pulsating through my hungry pussy lips.

The stereo roars with sound. It may be old but it is powerful and it fills my room with ambient noises of tongues licking and balls slapping against bare skin. I don't know what happened to the radio host. It's just those sounds hissing over the airwaves. The caller is still there, however. Her voice being the loudest out of all the noise. Yet, I was so busy with the visions created in my mind; busy with all the exciting beasts and creatures rising out of the mist to play and enjoy the naked foray of lust hungry bodies. I must have missed the caller's story, for she was already some ways into her description of events unfolding around her.

...I don't know what they are but they are all around me. Ah! His tongue is inside of me. It is so long and thick, it is absolutely inhuman. It isn't a cock; it feels like one, but noooo!

One of the beasts stands before me on cloven hooves. He pours something over his cock from a crystal vial. It is hard to see with all this fog surrounding me, but his cock is only inches from my lips and whatever he poured on it makes it taste sweet and delicious. It is such a monstrous cock attached between such a mighty pair of black furry legs. It will make me moan and scream just like the rest of them. They are all around me. I can't see them, but they are there swarmed by the very same beasts as me. They are everywhere in the smoke.

Oh god yes! Listen to me well. Ah fuck yes! Oh, oh,  how wonderful this terrible mist is. The creatures of the night swarm me, lick me. I can feel their warm embrace but I cannot see it. Make them out for me. Tell me what you see in the dark. For you who can hear me, they lurk in the town of Enipla and we have all been taken by this darkness. It is in the night, and in my home on top this overlooking hill. The night is hungry and the moon is full.

I can tell you his cock is black as night, and his tongue; oh my god his tongue! You have never felt anything like it before. Slide your fingers around your slit and let him lick those as well. Feel the moist hot, humidity of his dark lust lick everything.

'Yes!' I cried out still rubbing my body against the suede. 'I am imagining it!'

The caller was speaking to me; I know she had to be. I could see clearly the things she could only describe. There were many beasts all around me: Black furry beasts with cloven hooves and grinning faces that loomed in the dark shadows. I imagined the ones cock glistening in oil and only inches from my lips. It smelled so sweet and tasty.

I don't know what it was about this night, but all these minor events culminated into one hell of event for my desires to play in. As I have said I have always loved the night and how it plays upon my mind, but this night it seemed so real. The cacophony of lust squealed all around me. I could see others on my floor. They were like ghosts or like smoke. Untwined lovers conjoined with there sexual parts thrusting in and out of each other. I could smell the heat, sweat, and bubbling juices of climax as the men came on the tits of those they had came with them.

And what monstrously terrifying delights there was to be had with the menagerie of people that were taken by the creatures of the night. There were werewolves of course, but also giant horned beasts and little impish ones. I couldn't really see them in the haze but my imagination filled in the blanks. It went to work describing all the exotic flesh mingling. Scales, feathers, and fur attached to rippling muscle and beautiful curves running up and down the soft, wanting flesh of townsfolk caught up in this mist. Cocks of all shapes and sizes, bristled against the most sensitive parts of their lovers. Huge knots throbbing and plopping in and out with a slick sliding motion into wet vaginas, sometimes two at a time. The girth of the pleasure inducing knobs causing noticeable swells on their victims abdomens. Oh, the moans they would give with every kick those knotty cocks would give inside them.

So soon it would be my turn. The three surrounding me were hard at work readying me for their cocks...

...The one still had his hot tongue tasting the deepest reaches of my insides. A long goatish tongue of dark sins licks my pink flesh as I move my hips to feel my slit of my sex run across the leathery hide of his muzzle. I should worry that it should chafe me as he buries his nose so deeply into me. He tries to distract all my attention from all the rest, and even gets me to reach down and grab him by his horns and... God yes! Yes! Right there! I wish you could witness this for yourself. The fog seeps into every crack and thirsts to engulf everything. I am still presented with the cock dripping with whatever fragrances that were poured upon it. I haven't had the time to truly embrace it with my lips. Ah God! His tongue inside of me and my need to tell you this has kept me from indulging.

If you can hear me, I must let you know it is cumming. It is already in the town of Enipla. It has consumed the townsfolk and will consume you. I am going to take it now. I am lying on my back into the leathery hide of a burly black beast of the mist. I am taking in his cock. But, mmmm! before I do. Oh my! I had to lick it. Mmm, 'slurp', 'smack', 'gulp'. Oh, I'm sorry; I may not be able to say much more. His black cock is so sweet and meaty. It drips with the sauce he glazed it from his magic vial, and I now want to taste the creamier sauce that dwells within him.

No time, Oh what a feeling! I took too long and now the one behind me is stuffing me full. Oh what a cock! It is like I can feel every vein and ripple. Oh, yes it slides like glistening oil to lube my insides...Ah its goes so deep! He binds my arms against him, and I cannot escape. We have rolled so that I ride above him. My back arches in...Ah! I think I'm cumming, and yet, he has only just begun.

...The other one tires of waiting. No! I wanted to fully taste you. Oh, I see, but I cannot take on another. The first one he is so big, he fills me already. I have never taken on two at once before! Oh my god, I am being sandwiched between two savage beasts. Their black soft flesh smothers me both from above and beneath. Can you hear them groan....oh yes, they fill me so! Oh my god. Ah, it is...it is like their cocks are fighting inside of me; fighting to be the one that pleasures me the most.

But where is the third? I know there was a third one here but I cannot see him in all this fog and motion. I am smothered in this dark lust that night has descended upon this town. Is he amongst the others who writhe along my floor? I am too suffocated by all this motion, this pleasure, this monstrous lust to see. I am sure he will cum to get his fill of me. There are so many here taking turns with all of us. They lurk in the darkness pulling townsfolk in with them. They roar monstrously and so do their victims as I hear their climax erupt into a squishy delight.

Something wet and sticky splatters across my face and chest. It is not the beasts who pound me, for oh god, are they not done fucking me yet. Is it the spray from other lust bound lovers near me? Or is it my third lusty lover who I cannot see? The fog is so thick and glowing. I know that I am stuffed with their thrusting cocks, but who or what looms over me I cannot see. I can only make out wavering shadows, and they all have horns and wings. They are creatures of the night with furry balls and cloven feet. I am smothered by their dark forms, that is what I know...I am enjoying it all, and that is also what I know.

Mmm, yes. Oh Yes! I am cumming now, and they are cumming. Everyone and everything is cumming. The night and it mysteries is cumming on the town. The cocks twitch and undulate inside of me; pounding against my womb. There is another somewhere over me. I can hear him groan, can't you? He is about to climax; maybe he is the same one from before. Oh yes, I feel the hot bubbling ropes of his release. It sears my skin, and my tits burn from its exposure. The twin cocks inside me have also released thick bubbling cream. I feel like I am being filled with pudding; hot bubbling pudding!

If anybody can hear me, I do not care what becomes of this union. It is too late to save this town; it is too late to save me. All you must worry about is that the mists are rising and the moon is full. Lust is hungry and takes on many forms. It exists in the dark recesses but you should not fear it. Embrace it; enjoy all that it can bring you. I feel them release from my body and new inhumanly things take hold of me. But they are passionate and loving. They touch and embrace me in ways no mortal can. Yes please! I am cumming again, oh yes!...

 ... Ah yes! I don't know how this all came to be, but it is what I always wanted. He whispered in my ear that they had always been watching me and that this hill on Enipla is a special place for such things to come about. More of them are cumming. I can feel them slither and crawl across me in the glowing mist. The hot, humid night air has become like a sauna with all the friction around me. Fur, feathers, scales and more are touching me, engulfing me. Cocks of exotic shapes and wonderful designs keep penetrating me. Oh yes, oh fucking yes! This is what you want. Can you hear me, this is what you want!...

...I remember waking up and seeing the golden morning light slowly fills my living chambers. I couldn't remember when I fell asleep. In fact, I didn't remember sleeping at all that night. Only an annoying static hissed from my stereo, which should have been enough to wake anybody. I turned it off as I went for a shower. I was still naked, but that hot and humid night, along with my heavy workout on that suede chair had caked me in dried sweat: I would need to wash the chair eventually as well.

All the while I wondered if I had dreamt that carnal scene in which I found myself so swept up by the night before. It was far more powerful than my usual nightly dreams, and far more carnal with all those wild partners I thought I shared my body with all night long. Interestingly, I couldn't decide what it was that I pretended had ravaged me so forcefully and in great numbers. I know they all were monsters of a sort, but there was this haze that hung like a fog in my mind from knowing exactly what kind of nasty beasties had fun with me. Werewolves perhaps? No, that isn't right. There were horns and feathers, and... I just couldn't make up my mind.

I never found out what happened to the caller that started my wild ride. I had convinced myself that in my overtly aroused and excited reaction over something very silly, I had tuned out the broadcast. It probably turned out to be a prank or something after all, and the noises... well that couldn't have happened over the radio, even if it was some obscure late night station. I simply must have heard what I wanted to hear. Though what a strange thing to get myself excited over.

That night filled me with questions that I could not find the answers for. I searched for the town that went by the name Enipla, but found none anywhere. The closest I found, and it was purely by accident, was on the towel I used to dry myself after my shower. It was made locally and with the towns name printed on the tag. It must surely be a coincidence that the name Alpine sounds like Enipla when appears backwards in a mirror.

The Dunwich Sex Horror

* * *

It was in the town of Alpine on a house on top a hill overlooking the town that the child Zechariah Rose was born at 5 A.M. on Saturday, the seventh of March, 2017. This date was marked because the noises from the great mountain had sounded, and the wild things that lived there had come down in such numbers that those who didn't know better boarded up their homes in fear of what could happen.

The town had grown since its early days as a backwater town nestled high in the mountains. The newcomers were not accustomed to the old stories and the old reputation the town had. They came here with money, and for their love of nature and its wild country, but Alpine is a place wilder than most. The old families here are quite queer, almost seeming to form both a race and a culture of their own. Yet, they are not hostile to outsiders like most mountain folk are of other regions. The reasons for their hospitality and welcoming nature is rumored to be tied with queer and unnatural things that can quickly cause a newcomer to flee their new home, and dare not to speak of things they had witnessed or heard in fear that their sanity might be questioned. Yet, many stay and eventually become just as queer as the town's natural inhabitants. Alpine is a splendidly beautiful place, with a mischievously dark shadow that ever looms from its terrifyingly tall mountain; a mountain with a reputation for secrets of a sinful sort. Those who visit, even just briefly, are either touched by its seductive glances and beckoning finger, or are horrified by their xenophobic fears of that alien unknown that exists just under the surface.

No one, not even the eldest living, can say just what the matter with the old town is. However, it is always attributed back to the town's founder, the mysterious Jennet Rose. Old legends speak of unhallowed rites by her and the African woman she once held as both her servant and forbidden lover. From those rites they called forth forbidden shapes out of that great old mountain, and made wild orgiastic prayers that were answered by loud cracking and rumblings from deep below the earth. Such a cacophony of carnal sounds was made that fateful morning of Zechariah's birth; even the church believed that a new shadow walked in Beelzebub's place because of it.

His mother was Shani Williams. She and her sister Camille were the step daughters to Luke Rose. He was a crazy and wild man who was said to be a descendent of the decadent Rose. There was talk that he wasn't quite human, and due to his rather large and feral looking demeanor it was not hard to see why some would believe that. Some said it was he who was Zechariah's father. Zechariah had many of the same disturbingly feral and almost inhumanly bizarre traits as Luke and his only known biological son named Fen. It was also known that until the birth of Zechariah, Luke and his wife had been missing for some time. Now, suddenly, Luke had returned at the birth of his grandchild; his wife, the girl's mother, was still missing. Nonetheless, he denied all claims of parentage, but as for his son Fen, he was more apt to evade the question.

As for Shani, a young mother of only twenty-one, along with her older sister, she seemed happy and content living with their secluded and secretive family. She was even proud of her son even if very little was ever seen of him his first year of his life. When he was, he was tightly bundled as though to hide his general appearance.

Ole Luke would beam as he spoke about his grandsire, "He is a perfect reflection of his parentage, his pa would be nothing you would expect. You needn't think the only folk is the folk hereabouts. Shani has met them all and it was her personal choice to bring Zechariah into this world. And - some day, he will be callin from on top of 'Sin' Mountain and be as right of an heir to this town as ever his ancestor was."

* * *

Young Zechariah grew surprisingly fast. Only a year old and he was already able to walk on his own and was following his mother wherever she went. Many townsfolk and passing strangers thought the boy afflicted by some terrible childhood illness or deformity due to the way his mother keep him heavily bundled in tightly buttoned attire, even to the extent that his hands always had mittens on. Of what could be seen of his face, it definably had an inhuman goat-like appearance that worsened with age. On top of it all, his movements, particularly in the way he walked and held himself did not seem natural at all. Nonetheless, he would surprise all who felt sorry for his physical state by showing them his keen mind. For a one year old, not only could he walk but he could also already talk, and he had a great wit about him that could out do most grown men.

The young people of Alpine, or those who hadn't been acquainted to the town's frequently occurring oddities, didn't know what to think of this lad. However, with the older families it was a different story. Like Luke and his son Fen, these families kept to themselves and had the same 'Alpine look' about them. Some called them the 'sin mountain people' while others called them the 'dark forest folk.' Whatever you call them, they were visiting the Rose family on their hill with greater frequency. The rumor was that they were bringing their daughters to meet the young lad for he soon would be seeking lovers. - "Zechariah was birthed by the seed of that which dwells in the forest. It won't be long before his urges require attention," was all they would say about the matter.

Meanwhile, Shani with her sister would continue their nightly excursions into the forest, and the boy continued to follow them wherever they did roam. There was talk in the old town of witchcraft and the summoning of heathen gods; something that had not occurred since the days of the town's foundation by the hand of Jennet Rose. Though the town was known for strange occurrences, disappearances, and tales of cryptozoological monstrosities roaming about or howling in the night, the old families and the superstitious began to fortify themselves for a future when this would happen with intensity unrivaled by anything the town had seen yet.

Over the course of only a decade the boy would grow to adulthood. From there he would only continue to grow. His features, or at least the ones that were not tightly bundled from sight during those few times he came into public view, became even less definable as human. His size and features grew so monstrous it created more gossip that attracted even more curios folk from beyond the town. This led to some misfortune. The older families said that Zechariah was in need of special attention and their daughters visited the Rose estate more frequently than ever. It wasn't enough it seemed. Soon the local police were overwhelmed with missing person cases of young woman disappearing in the night, and berated with frequent noise complaints and descriptions of eerie lights that came from the house up on its hill.

Police were dispatched sometimes, but they didn't know how to handle, nor did they want to deal with the groaning and moaning wails of young woman. They would scream out for more, crying, "Yes, yes! I never thought I could take on four dicks!" or "They are cumming! They are cumming! I have never seen such a beast like you. You cum so much, and everywhere. I want to go again!" Combine that with the roars of something that was not a man, nor possessing the vocals of any known animal, further combined with the shaking of the old house with the cracking and creaking of old timber boards and even foundation beams, nobody could blame the local police for deciding it was best not to interrupt a possibly dangerous scene of orgiastic eroticism.

It was also one of the explanations as to why Luke and his son seemed to be constantly working on fixing the old house. Though why they kept adding new extensions, or needed to increase the size of the upper stories was anybodies guess. It was also at this time, due to a great number of monstrous sightings of things that shouldn't be wondering around the town and the severe increase in womanly disappearances, which led to an influx of outsiders. Reporters, detectives, thrill seekers all came to marvel at what was going on.

Luke and his step daughters welcomed their visitors with ill-concealed distaste, but they did not court further publicity with violent resistance or refusal to talk. For a time the media became fascinated with the family, and news stories concerning their fascination were published with great frequency. There inquiries only produced cryptic details that Luke's wife and his two step daughter's mother had gone to a foreign place and that Zechariah's fathers came from that same place as well.

"In time I and Zechariah's mother will return there, and with a host of new sons and daughters, wives and husbands to take with us. Our home is always growing and looking for new followers who want a taste of paradise." is all Luke would say on the matter.

Not even pressing investigations could force him to say more, and so the matter was dropped when nothing could link Luke or his family to any foul play. Not even the large additions to the house were searched as nothing was brought to life to even issue a warrant. Though Shani blushed during one interrogation when the calls of blissful sex came lofting down from the rooms above. Then she became pale and nervous as one detective slyly went to try a locked upstairs door.

"Tha...that would be my sister Camille. You wouldn't want to interrupt her you silly pervert. She does tend to bring home such a wild assortment of men, and the scene can get rather...ah raunchy."

The investigator inquired no further. The sounds and shaking of the old houses timbers were enough to verify what Shani said to be true. And with the roars of a monstrous kind sharing those bedroom noises, the detective decided he had no desire in revealing the backwoods kinks of the folk with an ill-reputation. Speculation and rumor was all the police had to run on anyways, that and the weird disturbances that were best to leave alone because the world at large was not ready for such things.

Doctors and biologists were sent to examine the now fully grown boy of only the age of fifteen. Zechariah was never seen in public without being completely shrouded from head to toe. His tall, bent and lanky figure only hinted at some hideous deformity, and his shadowed face under a thick hood featured shapes that hinted at something monstrous. Yet, none were allowed to truly examine the boy, no matter how insistent they were. Others tried to sneak a viewing, but Zechariah never left his property on the hill except to go into the wilderness behind it. Historically few dared to enter there, and the rest who did rarely returned. Yet, it seemed the forest and its secrets knew it was under too much scrutiny and began to weave its magic so as to seem awfully ordinary. Nonetheless, when no one of importance was looking and the town relapsed back into its way of things. The noises would return, people disappeared and the old house on the hill would shake and growl with sounds of wild orgiastic sex with a monstrous beast that could only have been Zechariah.

 * * *

In the following years after the annals of Luke and Zechariah sunk indistinguishably into the life of a town both shunned and admired for the things that went on there, Luke and his son no longer worked on extensions to the house but instead had rebuilt an old horse stable that burned down many decades ago. Why they had done this was anyone's guess, as they didn't own any horses.

Stranger still was the immergence of large flocks of birds descending upon the town and countryside. Ravens, swallows and whippoorwills, the latter of which was not common to the area, flocked all around the Rose estate. Sometimes in such great numbers they would fly circling above the hill in ominous ring shaped clouds of feathers and squawking cries. Other times they descend upon a house below and shortly after a new disappearance of some young miss was sure to happen.

Luke claimed they were of a great significance and was recorded saying to his daughters and son, "Your mother she be a callin me and has come back from the deepest regions of the realm. I bet she has some wild stories to tell. I am not jealous for her playing with the others that be out there. It is my time to return after all. I have overstayed my existence here and it is my turn to return to that place where wild dreams play. She will be happy to learn she is now a grandmother, as her own daughter has been favored from Yif-Phon."

With the coming of the next full moon the swallows and ravens descended on the Rose estate itself. Those who stayed awake heard the wildest and most unmistakable howls and cries of a wolf. The hills crashed with the sound of its pursuit, and the one he pursued cried and huffed out through exhausted breath. When she was caught, the beast tore her apart and her moans gurgled out the terrible assault until the wolf cried again with a long wailing howl that pierced the moon. With it the swallows, ravens and whippoorwill burst out screaming in such a cacophony that is should have awaken the dead. Yet, those who reported on what they saw and heard were ghastly humbled at the stories produced by those who managed to sleep and dream through it all. Those who slept spoke of a shared dream or nightmare consisting of a great black wolf pursuing its prey in the dark woods. A woman naked and laughing is running away, letting herself be chased.

"It is Luke's wife!" They would all exclaim, "Who went missing many years ago. Somehow she seems different from when she first came to this town wed to that man with his dark feral stare. She is touched just like him. The forest has had its way with her. She does not run from her husband, but gets him to follow deeper into the wilderness."

"In the dream I feel like I am soaring and can clearly see everything from above." The story of the dreamers would continue. "Like I am looking through the eyes of one of the many ravens or swallows that have taken up residence in the town. There are many birds all watching, anticipating what is to come. Tanya seems to know her way through the forest as she moves so quickly and so quietly, she seems to outrun the beast that chases her with ease. The beast is a black monstrosity. To call him a wolf would be an insult to nature, even if all the features are there: The head, the great bushy tail, and even the padded feat and hands with claws that splintered wood as he passed by each tree. The moonlight glistened around him in such a manner as to make the darkness of his silhouette seem ready to devour anything that passed by him. Only his eyes gave away his identity."

"Tanya stops in a clearing, a beautiful wide glen with a bubbling spring and small cave opening. It is there she waits for him by getting on her hands and knees. Letting her long hair drape over a mossy log that she rests her chin against. The wolf approaches, roaring and tearing his way to her; making a show that his savagery had not waned since his time away from the forest. The trees splinter from his ferocious might and the birds all do scatter, making the dream vision go into a flurry of rapid movement and panicked chatter. Then he sees her waiting for him. She is primed for him."

"Her body is beautiful in the moon light. Her skin shines with opalescence in the dew of the moss and the green. It drips from her waiting sex which beckons to the beast like a warm den for which he can rest for the night. He approaches it carefully, wishing to examine it first. All his savagery is gone now, as though it was never there. He pets and strokes her. I really must be dreaming, for when did a dog pet its master?"

"He sniffs her, tastes her and wraps her in his fluffy warmth. He takes his time working his way to the sweet den of hers, surveying all the flesh around it first. He starts at the middle of her back, tingling her spine. Gracious, what a long tongue he has! He works it up, down and through her shoulder blades. Tanya smiles and almost seems to purr at his work, letting him do what he will. He goes down to her ass to chew softly on her healthy cheeks, but still he shies from her waiting sex. He teases her by going down a leg. He spends some time on a thigh. His long canine tongue catching her trickle that runs down it. He collects the rest of her sweet dew from the cups behind her knees and even moves on down her calves onto her feet and toes. His lapping between each digit tickles her, and she loses composure to his playfulness. Finally, after all of this, he goes in with his tongue and kisses to explore the feminine den she's inviting him to stay the night in."

"In he goes, snout and all, enjoying the wild flavor that she has acquired since she has been gone. Where she has been, what she has done, even in dreaming it is not revealed. Wherever it was, the town and its people are not far from it. The dream is more than a vision or an omen; it is a torment. My eyes are bound to the messengers of 'that' place that force me to endure this union of unholy lust. My sensibilities are repulsed, and yet, my body yearns to have me see more. Tanya moans as she lets her husband taste, nay devour, all that she has acquired, and it makes me hunger to taste it for myself!"

It was here that even the listeners of the wild dreamer's stories were both repulsed, and yet, compelled to hear the rest of what had become an erotic monster sex story. Unfortunately, for those not unaccustomed to such things, it was not the first time such a story was told in Alpine, nor would it be the last. And so the dreamer would continue their tale of what they saw and heard that night.

"Tanya aches and groans for the beast who she calls her husband. She tries to hold her composure, but his ability to pleasure her is far too strong. She struggles to hold in her euphoria. She knows that if she succumbs to her orgasm, it will drive him wild beyond anything she could control. Yet, he is a monster far more wild than she, even if she has been gone away for so long. I can see his masculinity. I am forced to stare through those bird eyes that chirp and clatter all around in excitement to this ordeal. The massive cock of this half man and half wolf beast shares all the characteristics of the later; a red hot spear protruding from a furry sheath. A swelling knot grows at its base twitching to tie itself to its lusty lover's den in eternal union. The more he licks, swallows and devours her, the more she cannot control herself. Her cries and her moans make his savagery begin to appear again. Until, at last, the wolf bares his teeth and becomes a monster."

"He leaps onto her, his size and strength is overwhelming. He smothers her in his black fur that hangs down from his chest and stomach. Nonetheless, his monstrous wolfen cock finds its home. It plows in with a force and fury that would make it seem he was trying to knock down a cottage door. Tanya's sex, wet with dew and kisses, did not resist the knocking, and he slid deep into her. She moaned while he roared, and then he pushed his knot at her clitoris door. It was plump and squishy, and with a plop, it too found its way inside. I could see the plump bit flaring out Tanya's vulva, making it look puffy and gorged. Oh how Tanya whimpered at that, and it made me envy her," or so said the woman dreamers, "or envy him," so said the men.

"He holds on to her not just with his powerful arms, which would be sufficient by themselves, he must also hold her down by the back of her neck with his feral maw. He does this not because he needs to but because his inner animal demands it. He gives up whatever humanity he had left to take his bitch with all his desire. Tanya has no choice now but to let him finish what has started. To be ridden by this creature and lavish in all its pleasure. She screams out in joy from her humanly senses being stimulated by such a monstrously inhuman cock jostling savagely inside her womanhood. Her flesh stretching and squishing as his cock pulls in and out. Her vulva gorged on the flesh of his knot, not allowing him to release an inch of his mighty meat. He growls and beats her insides harder so that he can reach a glorious orgasm that will spill his seed deep into her womb. Only then will his cock deflate to release her from this blissful torment Tanya has allowed herself to succumb to."

"This goes on repeating itself, but it never grows old. The continuous motion of two bodies, one dominating the other in feral ferocity, holding onto her while snarling and growling from the tugs of Tanya's vulva on his knotted meat. Tanya's crying wails of succumbing to the repetitively savage motions of her lovers hips and pulsing cock. The only thing that changes is the frantic tempo which increases until cumming to a loud burst of celebration from both of them. He howls, long and proud as his whole body quakes from the energy of soaking Tanya's uterus in wolf flavored white cream from his well pleasured cock. Tanya screams just as long and just as hauntingly from the overwhelming feeling of the orgasmic experience. Her gurgled cry could convince anyone that this was her first time experiencing such a spell, yet I know better than that."

It was one of the wildest stories that had ever befallen the town in a long time. The dreamer's tale of hardcore lust between wolf-beast and his maiden would continue for some time to make both residence and strangers ears turn red from the absolute and perverse details. What that meant for the town had always resided under the carnal appetite of 'Sin' Mountain. Unsurprisingly, those nights of wild noises and ghastly carnal sights would come again over the coming years, as one by one the residence of the Rose hill home disappeared on nights when the moon was full, and the ravens and whippoorwills would cry in excitement at the sights that were there to see happening in the wilds. Dreamers would again wake up and share stories of how Shani, her sister Camille, and their stepbrother Fen all went back to dwell under the shadow of the mountain. Each time the stories were just a raunchy and sex ridden as the first. Each story ending with a member of the Rose estate embracing the cocks and wombs of carnal inhuman beasts that would drive them to orgasmic ecstasy. All except for one.

Zechariah would be the only who would remain; still haunting his place of birth. And though others would question what had happened to the rest of his family, hoping that the dreamer's dreams were just the product of some ill-taken drug or inhalation of foul air, they knew and prepared for the most carnal of nights yet to come.

* * *

Zechariah, with the house upon the hill all to himself, continued to remain a mysterious sentinel that watched over the town. He was seen so infrequently that some questioned if he too hadn't gone forever into the forbidden woods that surrounded his estate. The few who dared to find out only spoke of a terrible cloaked figure whose movements and gait was so unnatural that he couldn't have been either a man or beast. They shuddered to think about the disappearances that still occurred, and of all the dreamers' descriptions of what causes those wailing moans.

"What kind of monster did the Rose's leave upon this world?" they would ask. "And what kind of carnal things does it do to all those poor girls who have disappeared in mass? If we were to storm his home and all the added extensions that have been built onto the old and simple ranch-house to make it into an eerie castle, would we find some carnal dungeon that no civil mind could comprehend? What good would it do, for those surely taken have been tainted in ways that cannot be cleansed?"

It was only natural for them to be frightened of the unknown force growing over the town. Nonetheless, as they secretly whispered their fears, they also hinted at their own forbidden desires that they could not explain, and for that they did nothing but wait. Wondering when it would be their turn to disappear on a moon filled night. Hearing their wails of carnal passion crying out from the ever growing fortress that Zechariah built. Where he got the materials to keep building his castle, or how he was able to build so much in so little time, was just a part of the growing mystery that was coming to a climatic end for the town.

The following winter Zechariah began to make trips outside the town. He began visiting libraries, antique book stores and anywhere else he might find one particularly old book. The ' Eros Nom Fornicari' was very old, and its origins were mysterious. It was bound in leather and wood, its pages painted with the most vibrant of colors. Ancient words and symbols in an unknown language filled a great deal of it, and of the rest it was illustrated with images responsible for why it was kept under lock and key.

Due to its forbidden nature even Zechariah had difficulties finding it. It had a notorious relationship with his infamous ancestor. With Zechariah's unnatural appearances, even with his cloak and tatters, he created a stir in the neighboring towns he visited. Police were sometimes called, and sometimes psychiatrics were required to treat the delirious clerks who babbled about something unnatural skulking in their businesses. Some of the clerks went missing to boot.

"He has apparently courted more outsiders into his harem," said one old time resident of Alpine after reading this news. Yet, he was never caught or seen outside the places he was searching. Zechariah for all his size and presence could move silently like that.

He would eventually find what he was looking for in a place that was most fitting. 'The High Mountain Erotica Club' was a small eccentric club with wealthy backers. Its headquarters was actually not far from the town of Alpine, and so it was not surprising that they may have had prior connections to Rose and her estate in the past. Then again, they did have quite the collection of rare and old manuscripts on sex and its pleasures: 'The Book of Venus' from 1680, 'The Canons of Theodore' from the tenth century, and even an original copy of the first 'Kama Sutra.' None of them compared to the weird and colorful depravity of the 'Eros Nom Fornicari,' which even they kept under lock and key.

Amy Formica was the curator. She was a cute young thing of only twenty-seven. Though quite small and underdeveloped compared to some of the more busty members of the club, she had a strong sexual appetite and a keen interest in the history of woman and sex. She advocated a more open and liberal sexual society and supported it by studying foreign cultural practices such as displayed in the dedicated rooms full of erotic art for sexual play in Rome's preserved volcanic city of Pompeii. She also studied the sexual behavior of other animals, such as the social sexual behavior of Bonobo Apes and dolphins.

She, like all the clerks and store keeps, did not see Zechariah enter the archives. He was a large, terrifying thing in his cloak and tatters. Zechariah had to be nigh ten feet tall with a thin ropey appearance. The way he could curl and bend his body was serpentine in nature. So when he bent down so loosely to greet his hostess, allowing her only to see the dark shadows of his hidden face, she nearly fainted in fear. To her surprise he spoke in a pleasant voice that lacked any form of malice. When he asked for 'That' book, she was shocked he even knew it existed.

"The book is under lock and key, even I don't have access to it." She replied. "It is our clubs most sacred possession and few know about it. Even fewer have actually been allowed to read its contents. How would you know of such a thing?"

"The book is incomplete." Zechariah answered. "I have pages for it here in my possession, but I need the whole volume to complete my work."

Amy was more intrigued than alarmed by this intruder. She herself had always wondered about the infamous book whose owner Ms. Warwick's ancestor had acquired through unknown means, or why out of all the taboo literature of erotica from far and wide, this one was the most forbidden.

"Perhaps...perhaps if you come back later...sir," she said carefully, not wanting to upset this most intimidating foe. She knew she must escape him, for he produced a menacing aura. She felt better if he had been a regular robber or mugger. Instead, it was no better than if Lucifer was standing at her door, and with him a damnable temptation.

"If you like, you could leave some of those pages with me. I could have them checked over...and if what you say is true perhaps something could be worked out." 

Maybe the pages were an ill-conceived hoax. Maybe the most prized and infamous book locked away in the collection was a rather ordinary curiosity. Nonetheless, a curiosity it was, and she secretly hoped that this stranger would comply.

"I will leave you with one, the only one you will need. I warn you, don't examine it here or now. I understand that book is a secret, and so too are its pages. That is why only 'You' can look at this one, show it to no other. It should be enough to convince." He handed her manila envelope as he spoke. "I will expect the book in three days. I have many things to attend to and must return. The information you need to find me should be there as well." And with that he was gone just as quickly as he had appeared. He turned a corner, and Amy tried to follow but she only got to see his darting shadow on a far wall. From its outline she could see that perhaps it was the devil who had visited her after all.

* * *

One day later and her mind was made up. She had to find a way to read the contents of that book. It was kept in a glass case in a sealed and secret room in the back of the archives. Only Amy, Warwick and one other were allowed to know about it.

Warwick only ever hinted at its contents, stating, "Erotica that is foul and distasteful does not belong on our shelves, we should not waste time on it. However, that book and its erotic work are not foul, only dangerous. It deals with deep and dark desires long lost in the minds and souls of humanity. Things that if tampered with, could escape us and wreck all sorts of havoc. I am not so sure we could comprehend them let alone be ready to deal with the substantial consequences that they would bring."

Until now, Warwick's warning had always been a mystery. It was a mistake for Amy to view the page given to her as an entry for that book. Nonetheless, now that she had seen it, she had to deal with the excitement and fear from the emotions of desire it amplified inside her. Events were set in motion that neither she nor Warwick could stop by the denial of reading one book's contents. The page could have been mistaken for a well crafted painting: Vibrant colors of nasty taboo pornography carefully stroked onto old parchment. The content was nothing new, not in the age of the internet. Yet, it was something that only perverse minds could dream of. Our reality was not shaped to allow for the existence of such things, and it was mostly viewed and scorned as nothing more than a curious perversity. However, the situation changes when there was motion and excitement where there should be none, when paint moves and applies itself to the page with no outside intervention to tell a story all on its own, or when you have found yourself as part of that story. If those desires could actually be fulfilled by some unseen, outside force that was more real than our dreams and thoughts would allow, how would it change everything that humanity had come to hold as sacred? Or were we wrong from the start, upholding rules that did nothing but uphold false sensibilities?

When Amy saw herself in that one page, she understood why he only wanted her to see it. Only the most insane and devious could come up with a creature of which the likes she was depicted lying with. The idea of lying with something so inhuman was meant to be repulsive, and yet, the very depiction of herself doing just that was so at ease with being fondled in the clutches of this thing. She was depicted as enjoying his company and an erotic touch she reserved for only her most intimate lovers. And what was he? He was a conglomerate of so many things. A chimera composed of a variety of creatures with a body of a serpent, one leg of a horse, the other of some reptile: Two different kinds of hands, one with talons and one with claws, touched her image. Nay, they grabbed her, squeezed her, and raked her in vicious might.

It wasn't as though he was ugly, quite the contrary. He was muscular, feral, and such a vibrant mix of so many things that it made her eyes wander as they tried to take it all in. That was until her eyes gazed upon his four massive cocks. Yes, he had four mighty cocks, and not a single one was human. Each one was different, each one unique in shape and color.  Amy was open to many sexual ideas, and had read and seen many perverse things as a curator to such a promiscuous club. This had a taint to it that spoke of more than just some fetish, nor was it the handiwork of some awful stalking admirer sending her dirty pictures. The page was too vibrant, special, colorful and creative. It was created with a particular skill and craftsmanship that only a truly passionate individual could posses. There was also the matter of who, or what, had delivered this to her; then, lastly, there was the book.

The 'Eros Nom Fornicari' was an old book, that much was certain. Handcrafted and hand written, it must have been centuries old. Yet, what made Warwick keep it locked away from eyes who have read tales about incestuous lovers, a cruel dominatrix, or massive orgies held in Roman arenas to please its emperor? Originally Amy only imagined it must be because it was rare and fragile. It must have been such a treasure to her collection that she carefully guarded it from the possibility of wear and mistreatment. Yet, now with the events that suddenly unfolded, Amy had to learn what was really hidden inside its pages and to find out if the one page she now clung onto really belongs with its others.

Amy was one of only three who had access to the secret chamber, but only Warwick had the means to unlock the book from its container. There were other rare books and old manuscripts hidden here as well. Many weren't even erotic or taboo, just deeply valuable in their own right, but only 'That' book had its own case.

Being one of Warwick's more trusted servants had its perks. Amy didn't want to abuse her position, but she absolutely had to see the contents of that book now. The key to its case would take too long to find. So she hired a locksmith. After all, she was the curator to the collection, it shouldn't be hard to convince him the key was lost and that some important event was coming up that needed the case unlocked immediately. Of course there was the matter of letting another know about the secret room, but sacrifices had to be made.

"Besides," Amy thought, "He is quite the handsome fellow. Perhaps there is time for a little flirtation in this house of erotic delights."

The room was secret and sealed, and she rushed him in late in the evening while nobody was around except those who she had the authority to shoo away. It was a simple glass case mounted on a pedestal, the lock shouldn't be difficult to pick. Then again, the locksmith was a younger man, perhaps he was still in training. The lock was also kind of old, it was a great big padlock that took an old-fashioned skeleton key; so outdated that modern smiths might have forgot how to pick them. Amy quickly got impatient as she worried about abusing the trust given over these secrets. So she tried to distract herself. She did like watching him work. The hands of the craftsman moved so delicately. There was a grace to the way he used his tools while he examined the workings of the lock.

"Miss, this is going to take some time. This is one unusual lock you have here. It's handcrafted and one of a kind, I would hate to ruin it."

"Can you pick it by tonight?"

"Miss, it's already pretty late. It's going to take a few hours just to figure out how this thing works."

"You will get paid extra. Just please, I need this by morning." Amy said, not really sure on how she was going to do that.

"So, ah, this is an erotica club?" he said as he continued prodding the lock-hole with his pick. So does that mean you're like authors or something? And isn't erotica just like smut or something; you know, porn but in writing?"

"It's a bit more sophisticated, or at least is should be," she replied.

"Oh, I don't know. How is any story about a man getting his junk sucked off sophisticated?"

"It's all in the context. Why is he getting sucked off? Is there a story behind it? Stuff like that."

"So, you're telling me you don't just read it for the sex? Personally, I think most would just get to the good bits, have themselves a good wank and call it a read." He said jamming a pick deep into the lock.

"Well, there is pleasure and sex to be sure. Don't get me wrong, I like a good sex scene myself, that is why I am the curator after all..."

"Then maybe you wouldn't mind paying me a little extra... by say letting me pick your lock?" He said with a shit eating grin.

"Ha! You do go straight for the naughty bits don't you. Don't get me wrong, you are rather cute, and you might be able to pick a lock quite nicely. Unfortunately, that would make a rather dull story, and I really need you to pick that lock for me right now. So, how about some coffee instead?"

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt. I am going to be here a while."

Amy went to the kitchen. She hated leaving him alone in that secret chamber with all those valuables, but it looked like it was going to be a long evening. There was always the danger of Warwick discovering them; it was her estate after all. Yet, the clubhouse was a massive building with more than one secret passage to get lost in. Amy just had to hope that Warwick wasn't nearby. The coffee took ten long grueling minutes to prepare. By the time she finished the round trip a full twenty minutes had passed. She was eager to get this over with. This was taking too long; long enough for second thoughts to begin stirring in her mind. It would be disastrous if she was caught. And what if the contents of this book weren't all that interesting, and what if she ended up damaging it through this meddling to boot?

"God what are you doing!" She exclaimed when she returned to the chamber with the coffee.

The smith was buck-ass naked with his back turned to Amy. He had a fine ass for a young lad, but he was quivering oddly. He turned his head back slowly; he had a strange, distraught look on his face. "I got the lock off miss...but there is something wrong with this book."

Amy slowly made her way around to see what the matter was. The smith didn't move. His posture seemed strange, and there was a weird shakiness in his voice when he had replied. His dick was hard and swollen in his hands. From its tip a thick rope of jizz was strung out like a string. Amy never seen hot cum so thick that it could do that, nor had she seen so much come out of one man before. It plastered the whole base of the pedestal.

"Miss, I'm sorry Miss, that book is profane. I...I have never seen anything like it..."

"You weren't supposed to look inside it... just open the lock!" She said, pausing mid-sentence to quiet her yelling before finishing her statement.

"I, I'm sorry...I didn't think it would hurt none. But what the hell is that thing? I've got to rest; I've got to sit down. My dick hurts, my balls hurt, I've never came so many times... good lord." he said, as he slumped down in a corner.

"No, no, no, I need you out and with your clothes on please." She said trying not to stare.

"I thought you said erotica was written smut. What kind of weird stuff are you people into? Ugh...I feel weird. Ugh, oh my god...I can't believe I just did that. Oh, and my dick is still so hard, oh god." He moaned. He was crumpled on the floor like some wounded animal, his dick still throbbing in his hands. "Oh my god, I think I might need a doctor. What the hell did I just look at?"

Amy was about to repeat herself, but the man's behavior was truly not ordinary. "Oh no no! You just fucking played with yourself; you can't possibly need a doctor. I can't be having you needing medical assistance." She said, then she looked at the mess he made and it made her pause again. It really was an absurd amount of cum to come out of one man's balls, and it was also an unusually thick cream that stuck to the base of the case and was oozing its way to the floor. The blast was strong enough to blast past the pedestal to hit the wall and shelves several feet away, leaving a white trail along the carpet in its wake.

"Oh shit, you even got spunk on some of these other books! Shit, you have no idea how valuable these are. What the fuck could make you do this? When the fuck did you have the time? Seriously, it's like a bomb of cum!" Then she paused. She found the culprit in the pages.

The 'Eros Nom Fornicari' was open, and instantly Amy was able to see that the page given to her was meant for this strange book. The pictures were so vibrant and so alive, they seemed almost to move. It should have been impossible for such an incredibly old book to have such fresh looking writing and illustrations. Yet, here it was with quality even better than many modern paintings. The fetish was the same as she had seen with herself inside her own image lying with that chimerical creature of four cocks. Illustrations of men and woman in orgiastic delight all fucking strange beasts and monsters. And as the locksmith had hinted, this wasn't written erotica, it was straight up erotic porn. Very graphic and intense details of every action were painstakingly put on each page with great care.

She flipped through the pages; it was such a massive tome. Monstrous imagery haunted her with each flip. Beautiful woman of all colors and cultures had their loins ravaged. They told stories through the imagery. One was about a woman who gets lost in an enchanted forest. There she finds a magnificent equine beast whose body is made seemingly out of the night sky. He sends his minions after her, a flock of monstrous ravens that tear off her clothes with wicked looking talons to ravage her completely. [3] They play with her body; pecking, her clitoris and squeezing her luscious breasts in their talons. They take turns buffeting her body with shimmering black wings while they take turns gorging her lips and pussy with strange raven cocks. The unnamed woman resists at first, but succumbs to the tormenting pleasure that the feathered fiends are so eager to provide. Somehow they worked her body with such on emphasis on pleasing her that they eventually convince her to take on the cosmic equine deity next. He merges with her sexually, intimately, and some how with an otherworldly divinity. 

She found a story of dark skinned beauty baring a necklace of gold and walking through a cave of fire. [4] There she meets a grand treasure of wealth, the type only found in great tales of adventure. Yet, buried beneath all the gold and jewels is an even greater treasure. One she is anticipating with her naked body which glimmers in the fire light with sweat and oils. It's a dragon of sorts, is he a guardian of the treasures? Nay, he is the treasure. Not only is his scales made of gold, but so is his cock which sparkles in the fire light. The dark skinned beauty submits to him, allowing herself to be his lusty sacrifice. His cock poisons her with a seed that turns her skin gold, and she too becomes another treasure.

Then there is the story of a man who gets caught in the web of a lovely spider. [5] She is not a widow, just a creature seeking love and lust like all the rest. Or the story of the wolf man who curses his soon to be mate with the seed of his knotted cock. [6] She transforms into his equal, hunts him down and ties him to her again. Story after monstrous story of lust is told again and again, playing out in vivid illustrations that seem to magically move across each page. Unicorns, Griffons, and all other manner of fantastic beasts known and unknown, beautiful and terrifying, can be found. It overwhelms Amy in just how bold they are. They seem to be speaking to her somehow, crying out for her to join them, and to put her page in with the rest.

Another story scene comes with the turn of the page. This one has all the workings of being amongst the great stories of the 'Arabian Nights'. Sand seas baking under a hot sun with great golden palaces of ancient Persia dotting the horizon make up two whole pages. Yet, the scenery magically changes ever so slowly as her eyes work across both of them. It seems to take forever for her to scan them as deserts turn into a jungle oasis. The imagery seems so real, she feels like she can reach into the book and touch the scorching sand and let it shift through her fingers, or drink from the cool waters from the bubbling oasis pools under the shade of the palm leaves. She could feel the dry warmth of the desert, and she felt the need to undress a little to cool herself off. She first unbuttoned her shirt, and when that was not adequate she took it off completely. The waters helped cool her and it tasted sweet and good. Fig trees ripe with fruit provided the means to end her hunger. The oasis was large and full of wondrous things to see and enjoy. Vivid and exotic desert flowers bloomed in vibrant gardens in the further reaches that she pushed into. More of her clothes came off due to the heat from the steamy humidity perspired from the plants and the oasis waters. She was now only in her underwear, but they were not the cotton store bought panties and bra she was accustomed to. When did she put on this baby blue silken skirt that was of the most revealing sort? The front and back of it draped down her legs in very thin fabric, yet, it left her thighs and hips nakedly exposed. Her braw was made from the same revealing material, it was barely enough thin material to hide the pink flavor of her small breasts. It was the sexiest and most extravagant thing she ever wore, as it was also highly ornate with small emeralds and sapphires inlaid in both the silver trimmings and in the v-shaped belt that the thin blue fabric draped from.

"Miss, miss, there is something going on here. There is something happening to me." the smith said shaking in his corner.

For a moment the illusion was broken, but not entirely. Amy was back in the secret chamber, but it was different as though she was still partly here and partly in the pages of the book. Ferns and palms were still all around and the bubbling oasis spring was just at her side. Her vibrant bedlah was gone though. In fact, she was completely naked, but she had no time to notice that now.  She was still reeling from her disorientation, and she had completely forgotten about the smith who was now convulsing.

"Miss, I don't know what is going on, but I am so fucking horny. I have never been this horny in all my life," he said rubbing his hard cock. His dick looked unusually big. Amy swore it was bigger than before. In fact, in was absurdly big and seemed only to be getting bigger.

"I feel weird miss. I feel wild and hungry. Some unnatural desire has taken over me, and I feel like the only way I can quench it is to fuck the holy loving shit out of the cute, petite body of yours...I want to get wild and dirty," he voice become low and had a growl to it.

Amy was initially offended by his lewd demeanor, yet, she felt something weird herself. She was hot and sweaty and the idea of that thick dick pushing around inside her was giving her a tingle. She too was bitten by sudden horny playfulness; to just fuck while the mood and the setting were right. After all, they were in this secret chamber out in a vast desert, a beautiful oasis. Nobody would hear them, and nobody would ever know.

There were more surprises in store. A story of lusty monstrous pleasure was on the page, and it was making them both the actors. The smith, he was moaning, convulsing and changing. He had been the first to look into the book, and first to succumb to its power. He had jerked his dick until he came, and then had done it again and again as the desires of the book cursed him. The curse had quickly pupated and he was now becoming a product of those monstrous desires. His cock swelled up to an elephantine size as the rest of his body did the same. His skin turned silvery grey while the features of his face and body transformed. His snout grew long, his ears grew big and floppy and great ivory tusks sprouted from his jaw. His size grew to that of giant with his muscles bulged until they could fill a legendary hero with envy. His cock became the same silvery color and was now ungodly in size and now possessed a bellowing flared head and two melon sized testicles swinging heavily from beneath it.

He moaned and groaned as he convulsed through the transformation until he trumpeted loudly like a bull elephant. His voice had become loud and gravelly when he roared his masculinity. "Miss, please do not mind, but I have to feel your body. My body burns and it is the only thing I can think about!"

Amy backed away stumbling into the pedestal as she did. She was frightened, but not so much of him as she should have been. She felt funny inside. Small convulsions were pulsing through her with a weird pain and pleasure. Somehow she felt on the verge of an orgasmic climax that needed to complete itself. She reached down and grabbed her petite pussy and her muscles around it were pounding with heat. Yet, as she slid her fingers into her dripping lips and fondled her swollen clit, she found it did not satisfy her. Her body hungered for forbidden lust and carnal pleasure. The book had opened up those channels in her soul and was now going to please them in the most animistic way.

The smith had already succumbed, his monstrosity revealed in a way that was appropriate for this setting the book had decided. He was too big and strong for her to resist, not that her body would let her anyway. He was now a beast of strength and of power, and she his object of desire.

"Forgive me miss, but I need to put this inside you. I can't stand it, I'm so fucking horny." He said in a low gravely voice as he picked her up and began forcing his now jumbo cock between her legs. It met with much resistance, but only due to the size difference. As for her willingness, she too had been affected by this spell. The feeling of his huge knob pushing against her pussy door paralyzed her. There was no reasoning or pondering of what was to become of all this, there was only anticipation. Both her spiritual and physical receptors desired nothing more than the most primal indulgences. She wanted to fuck, she wanted to climax and she wanted this big fucking cock to do it. Like a wild animal in heat, it was all that fucking mattered to her right now.

The smith was losing control of himself. It was like he wasn't completely the same person anymore. Of course, she had only just met him, but this wasn't the behavior of a human being. He already knew how to operate an appendage he never possessed. He had his elephantine trunk wrap solidly around her waist where he then used its tip, which had amazing gripping power, to clamp down onto her left breast.

"I can smell your flesh and it is hot and sultry like the desert sands. I can smell your heat and desire, it leaks from you like oasis water. It is a rare and sweet treat. I am parched, will you not let me rest and rejuvenate?" he said in a bold and choreographed way.

And then she found herself saying, as though it was meant to be played out as part of a story, "If I am the only source of sustenance for your desire, oh great desert king, then drink and be thirsty no more."

It wasn't her speaking, this wasn't her story, and yet, she was definitely experiencing it. With a thump his cock went in. How her small body managed it she would never know. But it was now there filling her small body up so fully and heating her up with such friction, that she would soon need a refreshing drink from the cool oasis waters. Her own body was acting out against her; all she could do was experience the insanity of fucking a man turned into an elephantine behemoth. His cock was pounding at her womb, and she could see the monstrous cock inflate and ripple about by watching the folds of her skin flexing around her groin and abdomen from what he was doing to her insides. She couldn't believe she was keeping her composure from it. He was trying to put so much of it deep into her with each and every powerful thrust that she just wanted to scream and squirm. The story demanded otherwise and instead she found herself wrapping her arms around this alien lover. She embraced his trunk, found herself kissing it, licking it. Her fingers ran up and down his ivory tusks and fondled bristly whiskers she found on his chin. It was all very surreal. Yet, she did not have the ability to reflect on it. Her body was doing all these things, but inside herself she just wanted to collapse. Never had a fucking felt like this. Her pussy was gurgling for her; she had already came and was working to do it again. The first one was exhausting and she just wanted to collapse in this monstrosity's arms but the magic worked against her. It forced her to keep composure, to laugh, smile, hold and kiss this beast that penetrated her with ungodly power.

The second orgasm hit and the lights blacked out every time his thudding cock hit her insides. Still her body and her actions didn't skip a beat. She wondered if the smith was faring the same. He was yet to climax, but he was getting close; his hips were jerking and his thrusts were getting erratically faster.

"I am about to refresh you my desert bride," he whispered in a low moan.

"Hurry, I am thirsty and hot," she found herself saying.

He raised his trunk into the air to trumpet out his conquest while his cock trumpeted out into her insides with a powerful blast that filled her with a throbbing load of elephantine cream. His load of white nectar was enough to impregnate ten elephant mares. Two powerful squirts filled her and they backwashed back down his shaft and out of her punished pussy to splatter onto his swinging balls. He quickly and carefully put her down onto the sand before his third and fourth pulses could make its way inside her. There he whipped out his cum glazed elephantine monstrosity and proceeded to hose her whole body down in his cream. It rocketed out and blasted her tits, hitting with such force that it splattered and sprayed dew droplets every which way upon impact. Three more powerful torrents finished him off; his massive formed trembled with the release. They splashed against her stomach and her abused abdomen, tender from its internal beating.

By the time he was done they were both sticky and wet from the splashed mess. The sand was sticking to Amy where ever she touched it. "The sand gets into everything. Come we will wash and play in the water, for seeds planted will only dry out in the sun."

She couldn't believe the things she was saying or doing. She was still too exhausted and her vulva was still quaking from that euphoric climax. Yet, her body moved as though nothing was the matter. She looked up into his eyes and could see the same level of exhaustion, as well as a glint of terror. He too was a prisoner in this play. Only he had become something else besides a slave.

That too would soon change. Shortly after entering the pool and after they began to play and splash about. He again grabbed her and embraced her with his trunk. Again he fondled with her breasts. She could feel his heavy breath go down her cleavage. Nonetheless, it felt like he was squeezing her too tightly. There was also an intense feeling happening inside herself, and initially she thought round two had just begun. It turned out not to be the body filling throbbing and pounding experience from before. Her bones began to snap and her skin started to burn. It was not a painful experience; the burning was like the application of a strong menthol oil. Yet, it was not quite what she was expecting. She wanted to panic but her body wouldn't let her. She wanted to panic even more when she saw emerald and gold shimmering scales begin to grow all over her skin, but again this was part of the story. She was forced to remain calm and let the transformation take over.

Her body elongated as her legs fused together. The smooth scales grew over every inch of her skin in a beautiful and intricate pattern of reds, blues, greens and yellow. Her small breasts became even smaller until they became only a curved outline under her new reptilian body. Even her hair receded and was replaced by a new cobra shaped hood. No longer was the smith wrapping her up in his trunk. It was she who was wrapping him in her coils. He struggled against her newfound strength as she reeled and lurched from the transformation. She really just wanted to collapse; there were too many sensations and experiences happening all at once. Was it pleasure, was it pain, it didn't matter. It was all too much.

She was now the aggressor, the prey turned predator as though she had been luring him into this trap all along. He might be big and powerful, but helpless in the water with her coils all about him. Her body slithering around his large loins, finding a means to inch his big cock back into her new body. Then it was she, through undulating her coils, which did all the thrusting and loving of his cock inside her body.

"Now it seems I'm the monster who has caught you instead," she found herself hissing out. From there she lashed out with her fangs and bit her unfortunate lover on the shoulder as he reeled backwards into the water.

Neither Amy nor the smith could do nothing but let the cool blue waters wash over them. It was all a theatrics and their bodies were the vessels to experience it through. They could feel one another's touch, taste each other's flesh; the taste of the smith's blood trickled past her newly emerged fangs. What kind of venom did she just inject into his veins she had no idea, but the self that wasn't herself did it anyway. For what purpose she could only wait and see. However, her serpentine coils was still grinding her body into his; pumping his cock just as powerfully as he had done to her. Even under the water she did not relent either her thrusting hips or her venomous bite. For a time her lover did not move and Amy was left in limbo. "Please," her thoughts pleaded with her new body, "please say this isn't how the story ends."

All went dark, the scene changed. She found herself not back in the chamber with the book or the smith, but in a new place; a new story. From the sands of great Persia, she was now in some dark forest of pine and cedar. An old growth forest rugged and harsh. Amy looked at herself, she was still naked, but no longer a serpentine creature. Nonetheless, being herself again did not get her out of these woods - and where was the smith? The nearby cry of wolf answered her question. It had a distinct tone to it; one that wasn't quite wolf, one that wasn't quite man.

"Oh my god." was all she could say, as she remembered seeing another story like this one within the pages of the 'Eros Nom Fornicari.' Her night was far from being over.

* * *

In the late hours of the morning Warwick was awakened by her butler. "There is an awful racket coming from the clubhouse my lady. I don't know what to make of it, but it sounds like someone set loose a set of savage beasts in there. I have called the authorities and they shall hopefully arrive shortly to take care of the problem."

"And what of the curator Ms. Amy, does she know of this?"

"She was last seen inside the clubhouse and was working unusually late. Though there was talk of a man accompanying her."

"A man? What nonsense, Amy is quite professional at her work. She would not put my precious collection in jeopardy by having strange men come in at odd hours... I... best investigate this I suppose," she finished saying with a hint of worry in her voice.

Warwick had always worried about her precious books, but that one book she only wanted to keep hidden well away. She always wondered if she should do more to hide and protect it. Her mother had warned her about what that book could release and about the devious plots of its owner. With those warnings, was it a mistake to allow others to know about its existence? After all, she, ever since she was a child, was never allowed to open 'that' book. She had even lied about having a key to the old iron lock that kept it in its case. It was probably for the best that she never had it. Still, it was only the wishes of her mother that she keep it safe, and that under no circumstance to ever open the book. What harm could letting a couple of close associates know about the secret room and its one forbidden treasure, it was just a book after all? Amy was her best employee and knew much about the caretaking of old books in particular. Nonetheless, there was something about that old book both alluring and dangerous she couldn't put a finger on, even after all these years of keeping it safe.

As she closed in on the clubhouse and bore down onto the secret chamber, she made sure to shoo everyone away, including the butler. No one else was to know its location, and nobody else should know where the source of the noises was coming from. It would have been fine if it was just the sound of sex. It would not be the first time that lovers found the mood to fornicate in these halls of erotic literature. Amy would be punished for her disobedient sharing of classified secrets, and those secrets would need further fortifications added for their protection; a troublesome affair indeed. However, this wasn't just a simple reprimand operation. The noises coming out of the chamber were only partly human. Old stories that her mother reluctantly told her after she was eighteen came to mind, stories no mother would usually tell her daughter. Stories she didn't want to believe in, but somehow through dreams and nightmares, couldn't quite convince herself otherwise, they were now writhing on her chamber floor.

Amy, or what parts of Amy were still recognizable, shrieked in shrill cries in some hideously indiscernible way that Warwick could not tell if it was terror or ecstasy. The massive form coiled around her like a serpent was some sort of mismatch thing of limbs and wings. Having fur, scales and feathers, it didn't seem like it knew what it wanted to be. A chimera with so many body parts of so many things, it even had four different cocks, somehow all in mid-coitus, with Amy. Not that she was any better off, her body had transformed into something just as monstrous. Only her face and her four pairs of breasts had any human quality left in them. She was only able to stare back at Warwick wide eyed and with the most surprised O-face imaginable. Warwick surmised it wasn't created by her sudden appearance to this show either. She created the same O-face as she watched the undulating cocks violate such a tiny body, even if it had been transformed under a wicked spell. The beast with a goatish head at the end of its long neck turned its head and looked at Warwick with a wicked grin. It said nothing. It didn't need to as he openly showed the sexual diversity of his body and how he managed to get it all inside of Amy. 

Then Warwick had a revelation as she continued to stare. "You! You are that boy from the town of Alpine! The one that garnered all that attention because of your strange appearance, but nobody could really see it under all those robes and clothes. You were just some curiosity then. But you're a grandsire of Rose aren't you? Yes, oh yes, I have heard that name before. I was told to watch out for that name. But nobody would ever have thought that you would grow up to be this thing, or that you would come into my house. What have you done with Amy!" She roared at him.

"I have always been in your house," he said quickly with a sharp tongue and wicked smile," and Amy is becoming one with me. You'll understand shortly because you all have pages in my book, you just don't know it yet." With that he made one final mighty thrust, making sure Warwick saw all four of his cocks sink deep into Amy's new body. Cum oozed from the seams as every cock pulsed, and Amy's furry and feathered abdomen pulsed with them. She squawked inhumanly in orgasmic release, collapsing in his grasp with eyes rolling back.

The pages of the 'Eros Nom Fornicari' on its pedestal fluttered quickly until the book slammed close. Instantly the chamber reverted back to a sense of normalcy. Everything was back in its place, all except that Amy and her beast were both gone. It was if they had been summoned back into the story pages of that forbidden tome. Warwick was leery of it sitting there now so quietly on its pedestal as though daring her to open it and find out for sure. Warwick felt obligated to open it, though she did so slowly and hesitantly. 

This was the first time in all her life that she would open its cover, though she had wanted to many times in her youth. It was a good thing her mother never gave her a key, especially seeing what she had just seen. However, being its elected guardian and keeper, it was her responsibility to see what had been wrought by Amy's meddling. And so she lifted the heavy cover to no page in particular, gasped, and slammed it shut once again. She watched what she had just unleashed in the chamber return back to a normal state, the demons returning back to their pages as quickly as she had released them, Warwick realized both what was going on, and what was about to happen in the old town of Alpine.

* * *

While Warwick was mustering up a course of action, things in the town of Alpine became more unusual. A fog had blanketed the town and had sent it into an unnerved panic. It came down from the mountains from the direction of the Rose home on its hill. It was thick and weird, and those houses and streets buried in it were cut off and blind from the rest of the world. Mostly it was the homes belonging to the old families that were affected the most, but those buried were not seen again. Those who tried to brave it and managed to return did so only because they did not traverse into it very far. They claimed the fog was heavy, hot, and blinding. Nothing could be seen except the shadow of something colossal, something the world had never seen before. 

Now Alpine may have been a small town, but a highway did run though it that did see regular traffic from those coming and going to other sites and towns in the high rocky mountains. Alpine was usually just the peculiar pit-stop for them, witch became even more peculiar when this mist covered parts of the road, and was responsible for some of the wayward drivers disappearing with out a trace. For a second time the town of Alpine became famous. This time, however, neither Zechariah nor his family had been seen for such a time that nobody could go to question them. The crude castle Zechariah had built remained eerily silent, looming in the shadow of the forest and over the residents. Nonetheless, many knew he must be the one to blame, including Ms. Warwick when the news of the events reached her ears.

Then the reports started to come in of something else beyond the usual sort of unusual activity that the town had grown accustomed. It was late May, and only the mountain tops still had snow clinging onto them. Yet, the valleys and fields were still wet and muddy from the melted snow soaked into the soft earth. New, fresh green sprouted around the massive prints set into the soft soil. They were first found by a farmer's son playing out in a field.

"Up there by the spring there are the prints of something I never did see before! They are too big to be a coyotes, a big cat, or even a bear. And they don't have the shapes or the toes of those types of things either. They seem like a tree was uprooted and then stamped back into the ground all over the place." The boy told his mother. She in turn told her neighbors, and her neighbors told more in turn. Of course nobody believed the boy until the prints began showing up on roads and tearing through fences. Whatever made the prints was big indeed. One place across the highway became impassable while attempts were made to repair the potholes made by whatever had crossed. Whatever it was never showed itself in the day. The tracks always made their way back into the fog, heading in the direction of the Rose estate. Yet, each night they got bolder and traveled further and further from their source.

The farmers and ranchers who stayed away from the town proper usually escaped the strange events and weird happenings of the town; though there was an occasional fluke now and then. Now homes and small rural communities thirty miles away reported the strange anomalous plodding through their forests and fields. Then by the first of June in the small community town of Turner thirty miles away, the Fryer's would wake up to an awful fright.

The condition of the family was already in an ill state just before they went to bed. The oldest daughter had been out late riding in the fields and hadn't gotten back to the stables until well after sunset. Her father Samuel was furious and had created a sour mood for the evening. Rumor was that he and his daughter were not on good terms from the get go since the death of Mrs. Fryer. Other rumored claims said she left him for domestic reasons, which was not surprising due to Samuels's usual angry and drunken demeanor.

At two in the morning it was old Samuel who made the emergency call. It was he who was scared and trembling, and not the other way around as it usually was with his daughter or his late wife. He wailed on in drunken fashion about something outside his home slurping and moaning. Whatever it was pressed against the whole house until boards and beams snapped from the pressure. The emergency dispatcher was greeted with the sounds of the disaster over the phone line. By the time emergency personnel arrived there was nothing left of the home but a pile of splintered timbers and the strange impressions in the earth. Old Samuel's broken body was found trying to hide under a table. As for his daughter, there was no sign or trace of her to be found.

The incident was the most violet to ever occur in the history of all the disappearances, especially in a community thirty miles away from Alpine. Interestingly, though the incident did make appearances in the media; due to the accustomed wild tales of the area, it was not taken very seriously nor did it make headline news outside of the rural region in which it occurred. Therefore, the world lifted only a slight curios eyebrow before once again being distracted by more important things. Only Warwick seemed to be paying the most attention, and she and another were already on their way to investigate the matter.

  * * *

Warwick carried the 'Eros Nom Fornicari' with her not knowing if she would need it, or even how she could use it if she did. It was wrapped and tied in nylon rope and stuffed deeply into her bag where she could not open it again. During that brief period of looking at it, she had seen enough to know it was too dangerous to do so again; accidentally or otherwise. It also gave her an inkling of an idea of what was going on. The Rose family, after many generations of fornicating with the things they summoned in the hills behind Alpine so long ago, had now given birth to something that threatened to spread Alpine's curse to the rest of the world.

Warwick and her mother had always been into wild and romantic tales of lustful eroticism. It was the very foundation of their illicit club. She wasn't shy to admit that she had a slutty streak. Even so, it was said the Rose family had tried to become members of their club once a time ago. With them they brought a strange perversity that went well beyond sexual play and naughty romance. They had brought something so profoundly savage and weird that it hardly had the right to perverse the civilized world of humanity. Warwick's mother warned how old Ms. Rose would curse victims she saw delightful and have them chased down by things unmentionable. When they caught and defiled you, there was no way to return as your soul would be forever soiled by the debaucheries sin. The line between what was beast and what was human so undivided that you had to forsake this world forever.

Shani, the mother of that monstrosity, had been lured at a young age into that debauchery as soon as her own mother decided to lay with that beast Luke. More than likely her body had been used and abused by every inconceivable beast and night terror to produce that monstrosity that had taken poor Amy. Zechariah didn't have one father but many. That brief moment Warwick opened the pages of the book showed her just what Zechariah's parentage was. The seed of a dozen inhuman beings treading the line between man and beast until becoming an abominable distortion of both took their turns breeding Shani. The page she briefly spied was so vivid and well crafted that every detail was forever planted in her mind as though it wanted her to forever see it. For days they must have bred her, sometimes two or more took to breeding her as they fought each other over who would go next. Zechariah's parentage showed heavily in his twisted chimerical body. His body like the giant emerald serpent's, who coiled around Shani for most of her ordeal sneaking in a one of his two monstrous cocks in-between the feral ravaging of the bear, wolf and other bestial half-men that took their turns tearing her pussy apart with cocks not meant for such a small woman. Each one coming to a climax that would so overly fill her womb with monstrous seed that Warwick could not think it could be filled by anymore. It was their essence that made up that creature that she saw both on top of and inside of Amy. One arm like a tigers, another as though made from the talons of some bird of prey. A goatish head from the black satyr beast, but with the antlers of his great anthropomorphic stag dad who took his mother at the same time from behind while the black horny goat took her hard from her front. They held her between them to bring her up and down onto both their monstrous shafts. Some of the creatures were already a conglomerate of different things, and some were indiscernible alien things with tendrils going everywhere. Each tendril serving as its own pulsating cock to find a new way to violate Shani. They were all Zechariah's fathers. Each one contributing to his unnatural birth. Now he had taken Amy where she was fated to have the same done to her, just as it was fated for all those who had disappeared from that town.

Additionally, the news was that Rose's legacy was reaching out beyond its barriers in an even more monstrous form. Shani had a sister, that much was known. Though Warwick had not searched deep into the pages of 'That' book, she was certain that the sister's page was in it somewhere. Whatever she had fornicated with was even more monstrous than Zechariah's parentage. It was the only explanation to the reports concerning the strange prints left by whatever leveled the Fryer's home. Warwick didn't know what, if anything, she could do. She only had the book, something her family managed to take from Jennet Rose. It might be the only means to stop this. Amy was a close friend and associate. Warwick hated to remember what she had seen done to her body and soul that fateful morning. She had lost her humanity after having those four twisted cocks Zechariah forced her to endure. Warwick could not allow that level of perversion to seep out into this world. Though to step in front of it meant she could be consumed just as forcefully by it.

Accompanying her to this dark mountain region where the fog grew ever more dense and forbidding was another old friend. Armitage knew of the book through Warwick's mother. His family had a history of handling old books full of foul secrets that mankind was never meant to see or dabble in. He had hoped to avoid the same fate as his grandfather who spoke of a similar circumstance in a backwater town in Massachusetts. Now he cursed himself for not doing more to try and destroy or hide the book. However, he also confessed that it may do no good, as it may only be a simple reflection of Rose's power.

"The true power may lie on top of those mountains and hills, and we may only be able to use the book to drive it back to wherever it originates." he said as he reflected on Warwick's warning about what she had seen briefly in the pages of the book, and what they had done to poor Amy.

They soon came to the wrecked and ruined Fryer home. They were not alone; a police car from another neighboring town and several other bystanders were peering over the ruins and looking out into the fields and meadows behind the home.

"God, I told him not to go down in there," spoke one who Warwick soon learned was the Fryer's closest neighbor. "I told the officer not to go down into the fields, because whatever attacked Fryer has taken residence up there. A nasty fog that has no explanation for being down there has settled and takes over the whole place.  It is haunted by the cries of those ravens that swarm over it ever since the officer entered it. I'm afraid he aint ever coming back."

A strange shudder ran through natives and visitors alike as they peered down into the field. The fog obscured everything except the great flocks of birds circling over the low hanging cloud that had no business covering the land on such a bright sunny day.  " Negotium perambulans in tenebris" ... Armitage rehearsed the formula under his breath as he clutched the old documents and diary entries from his late grandfather. He had hoped to also have had access to another dreaded book of antiquity written by the mad Arab Abdul Alhazred, it may have provided helpful insight into this matter. Unfortunately, it had been stolen years ago. He was left only with the 'Eros Nom Fornicari.' A book so forbidden that he couldn't risk opening it without great caution.

And yet, he had to laugh to himself, "And I get to combat cosmic forces that want to fuck us all in the most literal way. I think you had it easy granddad. Your unseen horror only wanted to destroy us all."

The two studied the markings made in the earth to try and understand what could have wrecked the home. They observed the fog for much of the day, and like the natives the wondered if the police officer would ever return. Armitage expected to see another officer come to investigate the missing, but the police cruiser sat unattended all day and all that night as far as they new. Warwick could only imagine what kind of erotic horrors he had encountered in the fog.

* * *

There was a rumbling under the hills that night. A confusement of noises could be heard outside the small hotel the two were staying. They were waiting for something to happen, and from the reports of awakened locals, whatever had attacked the Fryer home was on the move again. The fog moved with it as it trotted northward.

"It passed ole Bishop's place," one excited local explained to Warwick, "He says he heard the crackin and creakin of wood splintering as a fog so thick you could cut it with a knife began to seep in through the cracks of his windows and doors. He swore that that fog was alive or something, changing color and whispering out names. He hid in his cellar and waited for it to pass by listening for all the weird moaning and slurping noises to stop. He said it kept on calling out to him, but he was too scared and locked himself in nice and tight."

Even in the dark it was apparent that something had visited the Bishop house. Trees and willows were bent as though something had pushed them aside. The great weird tracks plodded past the place in great numbers, and were as though something had stamped the ground with the root end of a tree.

"I have a theory" Armitage told his partner, "I think whatever this thing is might be responsible for this fog. If that is true, perhaps its destination is currently unclouded. We must get to the Rose estate now while there is a chance to explore it before 'it' overwhelms it again."

It wasn't much to go on, and Warwick was weary of Armitage's suggestion. Yet, they had not come out here simply to gawk at an unnatural wonder. They rushed quickly to the town full of debaucheries secrets, and worked their way up the hill to the looming home of monstrous lust under the cover of night. Armitage was right, though there was still a fog looming over the area but it was not the thick choking force like what they seen at the Fryer ruins. Nonetheless, it still had an unnatural feeling to it. Warwick could swear it whispered flirtatious suggestions to her in the dark. The Rose's makeshift castle built by Zechariah loomed over them.

Warwick expected to find a brothel of debauchery; she was not wrong. They forced their way into the castle and it quickly became apparent that this was the place all those missing had gathered. Warwick expected a labyrinth of rooms and chambers, instead the whole house was just one giant room a hundred feet high and many more across. Far in the back of the room was a large set of makeshift hangar doors meant to let something far larger than an airplane in and out. They had no need to worry about that now, for the room was filled with such sights to see.

The noises and the lights coming from the dwelling told the story long before they both entered the threshold. "We might have as well opened the book and looked inside it," Warwick whispered with a look of gloom about her. "Now what the hell do we do? I think the whole town is here. How the hell did this happen?"

Warwick knew that many of the bestial and monstrous forms had once been human. She knew because she had seen Amy transform before her very eyes, and was even expected to find her in some transformed state somewhere among the many squirming and moaning forms. What a sea of monstrosity they found themselves adrift in. An orgy of monstrous lust with every furry, feathered, and scaled thing imaginable. There was nothing human left in either the men or the woman forms fucking.

Armitage was having a harder time stomaching his surroundings. His conservative demeanor overflowed with anxiety and discomfort from all the highly graphic indecency. "It's like we walked into a barn when they are breeding all the horses," he said while shakily wiping sweat from his brow.

Warwick found it not to be quite as bad. The scene was much more civil and enchanting that she expected under the dim light of candles and braziers. It had the air of a Persian palace, though a bit cruder and more makeshift. The room was draped in vividly colored rugs and other draperies which hung from the rafters like vines in a jungle. Mating forms curled into them over piles of equally colorful pillows and mattresses that filled the room in a sea of cushions. Everything smelled of wild incense, sex and spiced wines. Great banquet tables overflowed with wild fruits and berries which were escorted around to waiting patrons resting from their lustrous endeavors. The equally monstrous servants who brought these refreshments received tips for their services by having their cocks sucked or their pussies tickled to the point it was surprising they didn't dump their overflowing trays onto the awaiting party. Yet, even with all the vivid colors, wild and pungent fragrances, and songs of pleasurable ecstasy there was still an inescapable darkness hanging down from the misty air. It obscured the view of everything with a menacing haze. Armitage and Warwick had entered a place they did not belong. They stood out like careless prey in a den full of lions and all the eyes were watching them.

"My god, they're all pregnant, and yet they still fornicate with such extreme perversity." Armitage whispered, "And look there. This place is also a nursery. They are multiplying as we speak."

Indeed, all the monstrous female forms bellies were swollen, some to the extent they undulated with tiny hands, claws, or tentacles from the tiny life forms inside them. In dark corners the unearthly cries or howls of newly created life were attended to by wet-nurses, as was the un-hatched eggs of soon to be lustrous spawn lovingly warmed by slithering coils and squat bodies.

"It is about time you brought me the book, you were not supposed to keep it this long." Spoke a hissing, growling, sinister voice that overtook the room. Above the cacophony and by the massive gates stood the most distinguishable of all the monstrous forms. A host of concubines took turns sucking and licking each of his four strange and unique cocks. He was bent over and purring from the massaging pleasure of their lips, and ready to convulse with climatic exuberance that would shoot gleaming thick ropes of life giving juices all over their life bearing bodies.

"I am a child of Rose who once taught Yif-Phon the pleasures of the flesh. Do you know of him?" Zechariah asked with his body coiled. He moaned out in another sexual climax while a host of monstrous concubines clamored up his coils to the pleasurable workings of his strange body. Each of his throbbing wet cocks were unique toys of different shapes and colors to them. They were all so eager to play with their naughty accessories.

"He is the brother of Yog'Sothoth," Zechariah continued to hiss and moan. "Your ancestors once tried to stop him, isn't that why you are here old man? Would it comfort you to know that he is not an ally to his brother? He wants to come to us, to enjoy us. His brother Yog'Sothoth, however, wants to drag us away, which will destroy us. Yif-Phon doesn't like that. Now you bring the book. You will find it will not work against me. It holds the stories, and it will hold more stories. These aren't my children, but his. Just as Rose sired us all under the mountain, he will sire more to spread across the land. His kingdom will grow, the stories will grow, and the world will change with his cumming. He will present your reality with such new ideas that it never knew before!"

Armitage began reciting his chants Negotium perambulans in tenebris... and produced talismans with containing a crooked stars with a flaming slit eye in there center. Warwick joined in, but also held on tightly onto the bound book in her possession, an already growing futility blossomed at their circumstance. The orgiastic masses of twisted bodies and inhuman shapes showed no concern for their little show. They came prepared only with a determination to stop a twisted force that unraveled everything humanity had accomplished. Yet, humanity was always at the whim of constant change. Inside the minds and dreams of everyone were thoughts and desires that were always left unchecked. It was only a matter of time before they manifest in some way. She and Armitage were just small representatives of those little insignificant cries for the way our world should be. Nonetheless, normalcy doesn't exist. The convulsing orgy all around her demanded her to realize this.

Though Warwick was a connoisseur of the erotic, she was not into this twisted scene. She still believed in a civilized romance of lustful control. Humanity should control their lustful indulges so as not to become monsters driven only by self pleasure. However, those that engaged in the monstrous union of fur, feather and flesh did so eagerly. Perhaps some took convincing at first to indulge on deep inner desires that they didn't know they had. Now, all these lovers happily sucked the cocks of monstrous lovers, or let serpentine cocks fill them most pleasurably in ever lasting coitus. There bodies may have become twisted abominations, some terrifying glistening monstrosities of no discernable nature on earth. What spell or chants of determination were going to dissuade them from this course? What was to stop them from sharing their gifts if those gifts could be enjoyed in return? Her beliefs and views were meaningless in the face of desire, and they would not change these beings back no matter how much she or Armitage tried.

The scene continued unabated. Zechariah continued to enjoy the continual massaging produced by his harem over his many private bits. He in turn enjoyed playing with theirs with his forked tongue. The scene seemed to mock Armitage and his flailing chants by having all those around them fuck harder and faster. The squeals and moans of voluptuous delights increased in both volume and tempo as they showed just how monstrous their breeding is.

A duet of bipedal beasts, part hound and dark demon, laughed like hyenas as they took a feminine creature with a most beautiful shape and form between them. One braced her against his chest, holding her like a child wrapping itself around its parent. The other took advantage of her exposed cunt from behind to let his swollen cock get gorged by it. Cum oozed out of her from past lovers to let the beast's cock in. it was not long before his seed mixed with the other stains and added to the monstrous life inside her tummy.

A cloaked individual all in tattered yellow, seemed human at first glance as he made toward the orgy. Around his chest and stomach the tatters were torn to show off his fine muscular pecks and abs. But then he took off his cloaked veil and his face was a writhing mass of tentacles. It was as though a squid had been placed where his head should be. From his robes even more phallic tendrils sprung forth. Each one sought out its own warm love hole to drill and burrow into like a worm. Those he assaulted squawked and growled at the invasion, but most were too busy satisfying other things to pay much attention. For their defiance he sent out even more for a full out invasion of their bodies.

The louder Armitage chanted and waved about, the more the scene defied him. Zechariah took out from the moaning crowd a particular pretty creature. She was part lioness with golden fur and part feathered creature with beautiful emerald feathers. Not much of her humanity was left except for her petite lean-column shaped bipedal body. It was hard for Warwick to forget those features when she had watched her transform under the weight of Zechariah's serpentine form.

Again, Zechariah proceeded to fuck Amy like an animal right in front of Warwick's wary eyes; showing Warwick that no matter what happens, Amy was gone. She willingly took Zechariah just as any other monstrous beauty in the room would. Her feathery mane rustled against Zechariah's long neck as he made all four of his cocks find their home inside of her. He made sure he did it at such the angle and in such a way so that Warwick could see every raunchy detail of the union. Both of them writhing, bleating and making such show of their pleasure together.

Armitage tried to banish them with his warding magic, but the orgy chanted back in unison a ritual to both demoralize and invite her. Yet, Warwick would not give in. She stood her ground amongst the noise and ruckus.

"I will not stand for this!" She yelled with a commanding presence. "This is not how the world works. This is not how we are. You can't simply come in and take what you want and expect others to except and join right in. The world is not ready for this perversity."

She pulled forth the 'Eros Nom Fornicari,' unbound it and began tearing pages from its spine, tossing them about like so much confetti.

"This is not real. We are human; man and woman. We are not beasts or monsters. Though we enjoy the temptations of lust and the fruits of romance, we are better than this. This goes beyond all reason and order, against all sensibilities of what we have established and achieved."

The only thing to answer her was the opening of the massive gates. Zechariah's half-brother, the one born by Shani's sister Camille, and always hidden away while Zechariah built this fortress around him, had returned from the town of Turner with more prizes. Slowly he crept through the moaning threshold like a terrible revelation. He was unlike Zechariah who was just an absurd abstract creation of animalist lust. No, he was much more

like his eldritch father who dwelt somewhere in the depths of 'Sin' Mountain. He was an indescribable cosmic force whose presence stunted Warwick's and Armitage's fruitless endeavor. Warwick could not stop this no matter how many pages she tore away; there would always be more pages. That which came through the threshold showed that it didn't matter what was in reality. What exists in the depths of madness and the deepest reaches of a known and unknown mind will always create absurdity as it explores its desires. It will create page after page of the weird. You might recoil at how delightful it is, and how it fills the mind with lustrous adventure. It didn't matter what Warwick thought was real or proper, even when it came to sex and romance. After all, these pages you read now exist and they are monstrous indeed.

That was what was left after that night. A book with more pages, some torn out and some added in. Some looked at those pages with fear and disgust while others were sucked into them. Nonetheless, the book was now open. No longer chained, bound, or kept in a secret chamber. It was open for the entire world to look at and read.

Made to Touch Lust's Mons trous Shadow

* * *

I had been dining with my ever-so-interesting friend, Lora Jenkins, at a little restaurant she invited me to in some small town near where I was currently staying. It was a chance meeting. Lora is usually too busy, that and she is working another missing persons case. Over our food and red wine, she spoke of little odd incidents and adventures of her profession, nothing vital or important, of course. Lora is not the sort of private detective who gossips with prideful zeal over her achievements in the ears of every acquaintance, however appreciative.

Yet, when I spoke of something I had seen in the morning papers, she laughed. "Poor Doc Holt. She is a strange and fascinating person whom I've known for years - well ever since I saved a young assistant of hers from false charges. Now they drag her into the disappearance of this young athlete, Rachel Peeler.

'Why are you so sure she couldn't be implicated?' I asked.

Lora only shook her head with a quiet smile. 'I have my reasons,' was all I could get. 'But,' she added, 'the only reason she was suspected at all is because of the superstitious dread of ignorant people. Don't know why she lives where she does, she has plenty of money. She's a physicist and dabbles in all sorts of research, and I suspect she's been guilty of "showing-off". The result, everybody swears she is now in communion with invisible forces. Smoke?'

Lora offered up a cigarette, which I accepted, saying thoughtfully: 'The superstitious ideas of people always do spell trouble.'

'Did in her case. They swore she sold love charms openly that secretly were curses in disguise. That, and together with living so near to...well... got her suspected. Anyway, I have said too much about it as usual.'

'As usual?' I retorted, 'you're about as frank as a Russian diplomat.'

She beamed at me engagingly as she rose from the table, with a glance at her watch. 'Sorry got to run, but I have an interview to take care of.'

I remained seated for a while after her departure, then decided to make my way for home. However, as I walked out onto the street, I found myself enjoying the fresh mountain air of this small little town I was amidst. I was in no hurry, and so I decided to take a walk to see what this rustic town had to show me. I had lived most my life in the city, and had never gotten quite used to the serene quiet of these small country towns. There was no hustle and bustle like you would see in the city: no heavy traffic, no crowded streets. So late in the evening, this town was eerily quite and I found it strange to walk sometimes an entire block before seeing another person walking the same street as me. Admittedly, these streets were smaller than ones I was used to. It would not take me long to walk the whole length of this town, as it probably had a population of only a couple thousand or so. You could clearly see the mountains and forested wilderness that hugged the town tightly from almost every side. The shops and other businesses were all small brick buildings, some still showing their original age of a hundred years. Interestingly there was Swiss and Eastern Victorian influences in their architecture rather than the usual Spanish and old western designs regularly found in this part of the Americas.

It was nice to walk down these solemn streets without the fears associated with the city. People here were known for their simple, easygoing nature. The worst offences committed were the occasional outburst of drunken revelry at the end of workweek.

Nonetheless, there was a sense of something in the air this evening. Perhaps it was just this town. I had noticed a primal and distinctly bestial nature to many of the native folk that distinguished this town from all its neighbors. The few that I passed on the street, I felt that they were watching me, even long after they had turned a corner and left my sight. I had felt this feeling ever since entering the town to meet my compatriot. It had intrigued me initially, giving the town a strange sense of wonder that I did not find with other such towns. Yet, now that I chose to explore it further in the waning evening light, the sense of wonder was turning into a terror. It was growing by the minute, and yet, I could not put a finger onto what was exactly causing this calamity. It was a strange and exciting terror with its unseen hint of danger.

My sense of terror was turning into an omen than I could not decipher as neither good nor wicked. It was only in some way that this town, with its sordid sights and sounds, was striking me wrong. This would never do. There is only one way to deal with an imaginative temperament, and that is to conquer it. If I left this town set this nameless terror upon me, I would never be able to shake it off. I would simply have to face it until I got the better of it - that was all.

I paused on a corner with a drug store. I knew that I was getting tired, but I hardly wanted to go inside. As I stood there, my eyes came across a long white canvas sign; its bold letters caught my attention.

COME FEEL THE GREAT PRESENCE!

Come in! This Means You!

FREE TO ALL!

A museum perhaps? It was not unusual for small towns to have their odd attractions; I had been to many since my incursions out here in the West. It would also give me a place to rest a while, and fight off this increasing obsession of nonexistent terror.

* * *

The sign pointed to a long lane that seemed deserted. It would have me go down a lonely road at the back of the town where the wilderness butted up against it. Walking this lonely lane only seemed to increase my terror. It was not the townsfolk responsible now, none of them were about me. There, in the open, lighted street under the evening sun with no sight or sound to assail me, I was a shivering victim of such an odd feeling of terror that I had never known before. I say terror because it was both terrific and terrible. Walking into something unseen and unknown awakened a primal emotion deep inside me. It told me to escape quickly before that which I did not understand consumed me. Yet, it excited me with the anticipation for a great surprise, and so I pressed on.

Eventually, I came to the doorstep of a large and very old looking house. It had seen better days with its white paint peeling to expose weathered wood panels held in place with rusty nails. The signs pointed out to me that this was the location I sought. Yet, the windows were all dark, except one. It had only a dim, scarlet glow coming from a small, unseen source. There was another sign on the porch that told me I had arrived at the correct destination, though there was no other house to be seen on this woodland lane.

Setting my teeth, and fighting with myself as with some pet animal gone mad, I forced my steps up to the door. I half wanted it to be closed, but no hours of business were posted. I half wanted it to be open, for I wanted to quench this delightful feeling of dread.

The door was not locked and opened easily as I carefully peered inside. It was at this moment that I saw a troupe of individuals I had not noticed earlier. They were passing by from the direction of the deeper woods and heading towards the town proper. I suspected there must be more such homes further along, obscured by the trees. Yet, the lane shouldn't go that much further by how dense the wilderness had become, or how steep the walk was getting to where I was.

In passing, one of the men glanced back at me. It made me shudder against the door. He was a young man, handsome and swarthy, but never in my life had I seen such a face so feral looking. It was so primal, bestial, and savage. He had the eyes of a great predator and they were hungry. Our eyes met and his seemed to light up with a predator's excitement. It was as though he had seen a worthy mate, a bitch for breeding. His transference of hungry lust shot through me with his stare, and for a brief moment, I understood the terrible delight that I had been feeling.

They went by, but for some distance I could see him watching me, chin on his shoulder, until he and his friends were out of sight.

Trembling from the encounter, I felt more compelled than ever to enter that home. I didn't care if it was closed or if nobody was home. I needed to get off this open lane before this strange feeling of predatory lust consumed me. Never in all my life had I felt anything like it. It wasn't so much the feeling that at any moment that troupe of feral men would come back for me like a pack of wolves, but it was the feeling inside myself that terrorized me the most. I was hot, strangely hot, and my darkest instincts had moistened my private lady bits. The sudden dampness of my panties was making them uncomfortably stick to me.

Trembling from the encounter, I had to pull myself together. I tried to scold myself for feeling so foolish and strange over the mere glance of a passing stranger. So I snuffed out my half-smoked cigarette and began taking in the surroundings of the establishment I forced myself inside. It was just as old and worn on the inside. I could feel the grit of dirt under my shoes as they rasped the floor of a bare and dirty hallway. Listening, the house seemed entirely silent. Surely this was no place of public amusement. More likely, it was just some old boarding house, and that I had mistaken the signs.

To my intense relief, since coming inside, the worst agony of my unreasonable terror had subsided. If I can find a seat somewhere where I could rest, I might be able to get rid of it for good. I was about to explore this seemingly empty abode, but as I was stepping out of the hallway I heard footsteps trotting down the bare wooden staircase.

'Well?' she said, looking at me expectantly with no surprise at my presence.

'Oh, I'm sorry,' I replied, 'I came here thinking this was some sort of exhibit. Ah, what did it say, "The Great Presence?" That was what was mentioned on the sign outside. I'm not sure I am at the correct place or if I am intruding?'

'You're at the right place.'

With that brief answer, she stopped and stared at me. She was a tall, lean woman, but with a heavy stout chest with broad shoulders. It gave her considerable dignity of bearing. For the state of her home, she was uncommonly well dressed. Vivid colors made up her dress and she stood out brightly in the gloom of the estate. Her vividness also stood out well with her dark complexion and piercing eyes; eyes that were black and animal-like.

I grew tired at being stared at. 'If I'm at the right place and this is it, well then never mind.'  I said, a bit irritably, and turned to leave.

Her sharp exclamation stopped me. 'No!' she said, 'No - no! Forgive my - hesitation. To think that one - one, even, has come! All day they pass my sign - pass and fear to enter. But you are not like the other ignorant foreign peasants. No, you are different. If you are asking if this is the right place, then please, come in!'

The piercing look in her eyes instantly brought back the hot, wet feeling from before. Her eyes hungry like a predator's. Yet, there is an emotion that we humans are cursed with. It defies are instincts; mine, particularly on this day - that emotion is curiosity. What kind of museum could this be that she accused the passing public of fearing to enter? Nothing too terrible, or else it would be shut down...right?

She beckoned for me to follow her up the stairs.

'So it's up there, is it?' I asked, as I approached cautiously. 'And I am to be the sole audience? I...guess that will make it an interesting experience?' I was half laughing now.

'The most interesting experience you will ever find,' she said with a chillingly seductive tone.

At the top of the landing, many doors led into many rooms. I was led to one far in the back. My host opened, went inside, and then closed it again - in my face. I stood staring at it blankly. It was an old door, and like the rest of the house, faded paint was cracking and peeling away from it. Suddenly, it occurred to me that I had no more interest to go inside. My curiosity had subsided. Whatever was behind the door was not worth seeing, if it was it would not be hidden in such a poorly kept establishment. I turned to leave, but the door opened and my host stuck her head out with an impatient frown. 'Come in - hurry, come in!' she snapped, and then she disappeared again.

'I guess she has something she doesn't want escaping, a pet perhaps?' is what crossed my mind. 'Well it can't be anything dangerous...and she is so anxious for me to enter - here goes nothing.' I turned the porcelain handle and entered.

The room was not very large, and just as dark and gloomy as the rest of the home. The room was set up like a laboratory. There were shelves along the walls filled with bottles, specimen jars, graduates and the like. A small table in one corner was covered in tools and complex equipment. Perhaps the table housed spare parts for the strange device that jutted out of the floor near the center of the room. It was a metallic pole with wires, lights and electric panels, and was about the height of an average person. At the top was a glass sphere that had three large prongs sticking out of it. At the devices bottom, cables and wires snaked along the floor to attach at its base. What was even stranger was that all this equipment was set up in a very usable bedroom. An ornate bed was set up with its head against the back wall, and there was a wardrobe and dresser near it. They were a stark contrast to the cold, metallic feel of the laboratory setting. All beautifully designed out of rich colored wood and possessing highly detailed carvings of wild and fantastic things.

My host of dark hair, dark skin and even darker eyes awaited me as she stood between the device and the bed. She pointed to a chair against the wall next to me.

'Sit down - sit down!' she said with eagerness. 'Have no fear, this will be very interesting, my friend. Please have no fear at all - of anything!'

She said this with her dark eyes fixed upon me like a predator. Her words had exactly the opposite effect on me. I sat not because I was asked, but because my knees had buckled under me. It was this room in which I must have seen that scarlet light from outside. It was a dim glow of panel lights and switches from the strange device next to my host. Their glow cast down upon my hosts frame and made her light up in its deep crimson. Now I knew the meaning of my terror, whose warning I would not heed. Now it had led me into the lair it had in vain tried to save me from.

* * *

I was struggling with myself. Logic was screaming at an unseen danger, but under that layer of danger was something even more terrifying; a part of myself that seemed to know that something was coming. Something that I wanted which hungrily anticipated with such desire as it was blindly tearing away at my logic. I was hot, and as I sat in my chair, I could feel the beads of sweat form upon my skin. The liquids of my body cooling me as I anticipated what kind of strange thing I had walked into.

My host began her presentation, 'and so in wanting to understand the relations of feelings with the fantastic images of the mind, I began tampering in the spectrums of light of which we cannot see...'

Her voice was loud and clear. She would make an excellent lecturer amongst a much larger audience - if only she lacked the highly seductive tone that pulled at me like a muse. I became fixated on her eyes and lips as she spoke. I felt them undress me with an unseen force. She was teasing me somehow - toying with her prey. I did not know how she was doing it, but she wielded an unfelt power that held me to the chair. The pressure was making me spread myself open and let her collapse upon me. Such a feeling never did I have for a woman before, and yet, I was but meek prey before this dark eyed predator.

'As I have indicated,' she spoke on, and I realized she was still talking about the device. I had not at all been paying attention to anything she had said.

'These things cannot be seen or felt by our normal senses, not unless stimulated by certain frequencies that disrupt the inhibitors of our minds. I have found these frequencies. They are produced here, in this town and amongst other places. I have invented the antenna that can pick them up.'

Suddenly, the stoop went out of her shoulders as she drew herself erect and threw her head back and laughed. It was a wickedly maniacal laugh.

'I won't tell you want I saw when I tuned in on that frequency. Why should I? You're own eyes and body shall bear witness. But I will say this much, when our poor, faulty senses perceive something, we say that it is visible. When we touch something, we say that is tangible. All this applies to what we call reality. But what of those things we see, feel and want beyond our senses? The soul and the mind can touch and see them, and only now with this device can they bleed into what we perceive as reality. Have no fear!'

She flipped a switch and the device quickly whirred to life with hypnotic colors and sound. As it slowly built up strength, she added her laugh to the devices purring sound.

'Have no fear!' she iterated as a kaleidoscope of color expanded throughout the room. The color was strange because it was thick with substance. I realized it was not the machine that was making the sound, but the colors themselves. They were filling the room, and overtaking the gloom and the dirt until everything became vibrant and alive. I could feel it pressing against me, such a frighteningly warm and tingly sensation.

The room transformed in much the same way as when the morning sun seeps through a window to brighten up a day, only here the transformation was far more dramatic. It was fantastic, like a child's dream, all except the thing that slithered at my host's feet.

It was a snake, or at least that was my first impression. Yet, as it terribly writhed, I began in excited terror to realize it was something else. I don't know what kind of creature it was, it wasn't from this reality. I knew I was looking at something highly phallic. A multitude of long, writhing cocks which reached out from cracks and holes in the floor that were not seen without the strange vibrant light. As that light filled the room, more monstrosities appeared with phallic appendages writhing about. They crept out from under the bed, and crawled their way out of the wardrobe. Winged things were fluttering outside the windows, while others walked or crawled. There were at least a dozen monstrous things of various sizes within the new and vibrant room.

I felt like I was in a cartoon, everything was so animated and visually popping. Even so, the monsters were still monsters, regardless of how lively they seemed. Most of it was phallic with octopus like tentacles going everywhere, but there were some stranger things. In one corner, a foray of funny looking cartoon mice with shirts but no pants were...having an orgy it seemed. They were well endowed for being mice and not men. There was also a strange purple cat with orange stripes watching them. He had the biggest grin ever for such a cat to have, and he seemed to be directing their show like an orchestral conductor. Yet, this was hardly the strangest thing I could find. The wardrobe grew a tree like limb, and from it a knothole appeared in which a white rabbit jumped out. He hit the ground and began to transform, becoming a mockery of a human shape. Soon he was an apish thing with long white ears and a massive hung cock. He jumped into the bed and under its covers, which rustled about for a minute, and then they began moving with the movement of thrusting hips of two conjoining lovers. What the rabbit had found under there I was too terrified to want to find out.

It was all terrifyingly fantastic. I was dumbfounded and amazed, unable to speak or move. I did not know what was going on. Was it a projection, a mere hologram created by some fancy new technology? Somehow, I knew it was not. This was a reflection of what I had been feeling all along, a demented, horny terror of perverse fantasy. Something I didn't want to acknowledge, yet, tempted me all the same, ever since I had entered this town.

 My dark skinned host was reveling in it all while the serpentine thing at her feet began to grow, doubling in size. Long, thick tendrils with phallic heads sprouted out like fast growing vines from the thing at her feet. Like a whirlwind, they encapsulated my host, lifting her into the air and reaching under her clothing. She was giggling, laughing and crying out, 'yes! Yes! Have no fear! This is what our fantastic dreams of lust truly are.'

Her clothing seemed to dissolve as the tendrils reached under them to pull them off. They were torn to shreds by the pressure of the tendrils all at once pulling out and away from her body. The tatters of her garments fluttered in the air like confetti. The cock-headed tendrils already at work enjoying the touch of her chocolaty flesh in their own fleshy ropes, coiled around her calves and thighs, climbed her sensual waist like serpents, and then curled around her perky breasts into shapes like the curls seen on a grapevine. They sprouted her high into the air where she was opened up like a great flower budding before me.

The tendrils took root inside her body. A fat phallus plunged deeply into her dark pussy, while another went deep down her throat; making her moans into muffled gurgles. The rest waited there turns by slithering and twirling on her skin, which provided an interesting and contrasting movement of colors in the show before me.

I could feel it! I could feel that terrifying feeling of lust touch me all over. It was hot, raw lust and not the type found in the romance with a man. No, it was brutal, self-pleasuring, monstrous lust. The fantastic daydreams of my deep thoughts for sexual stimulation and orgasm, brought to life by the forbidden touch of imaginary things most absurd. It filled me with terrible shame, but I couldn't resist. The vivid colors and the fact that I could feel this pleasure inside myself; it was as if I was somehow controlling this show! The more I watched the cocks fill my host, the more I wanted to see. I swore I could feel the sensations of her body being ravaged.

I bit my lip and my eyes were wide, soaking in that scene for myself. I shot out my wanting thoughts to have those sprouting cocks ravage her faster and harder. With my wish, they did just that. The one sliding between her wet pussy lips began beating in and out of her so hard that the flab of her vulva began to pulsate. Her breasts beat up and down, even though they were locked up tight in the coils of the lustful madness that bound her.

The other oddities of sexual deviance paused to look up at her. They all began to laugh and giggle in high-pitched voices with seductive tones. Crying out, 'breed her,' 'fuck her,' 'cum inside and all over her,' 'make her cum,' and other sexually deviant encouragements.

Though I was hot, and I felt the desire to watch this happen, I recoiled. 'What am I doing? What is this place and how?' I thought to myself as I heard me whimper out the words, 'no, no stop this. What is going on? Why is this happening?' and though struggled to understand it, and I was full of terror as to what was to happen to my host and myself, I was not truthful in my words. The strange monstrous things: the purple cat, the humping mice, the draconic wyrm flying like a shining metal ribbon in the air, they all wickedly smiled my way. I am a rabbit in a wolf's lair, and more and more, the world dissolves around me as that horrible machine drones away.

My host's gurgling moans get more intense. Then the phallic vines begin to pulsate as they pump love juices through their lengths. Their heads begin to pop, squirting out thick ropes of white. She begins drinking from both stuffed orifices because she has no other choice. Drinking until she begins leaking, and until she is so full that the cocks must pull out and are forced to squirt their final squirts elsewhere on her body.

By then trees, vines and tentacle things have nearly torn down the walls of the room. There is a dark, alien forest surrounding us and I see eyes, hungry, lusty eyes lurking in that darkness. My only chance is to turn off the machine, but I don't know how, and so many eyes surround me.

My host, is lowered down and then tilted in my direction. More phallic cocks invade her body, plugging into her wet, cum ridden vagina and into her virgin ass. Yet, her smiling dark face was lowered down to meet mine with that wicked predator smile.

'Fear nothing!' she began speaking, and every word rang out like a gong. 'For such things as these move about us every hour of every day. Only you and I have seen them. These are our creations, yours and mine. Deep in our fantasies, in our darkest consciousness, lie our most animalist desires and fevered dreams. We keep them in check and bury them under layers of reason, and social masks that we all adorn. However, deep in our minds we are these things, we want these things, and thus we create these things. Entire worlds exist just outside our thought. This one, the one my machine has discovered, is the one of our taboo lust, our desire for physical pleasure of the kinkiest sort.' She moaned a ghastly wail of pleasure while trying to exhale her words. 'Fear nothing! For this is your world too, and deep down inside, you know you want to share it with me.'

She grabbed me and I struggled, gasping in fear at her words. Yet, my attempts were no better than a squirming child. I was scared but I was so hot, so wanting. I could feel that her words were true. I could feel that the phallic tendrils that wrapped around her skin were somehow my doing, and my creation. That the device, humming in the middle of the room, had ripped them out of me from the deepest reaches of my mind and soul.

'Was this woman, this dark skinned beauty, also my creation?' I pondered as she began to work her fingers around my waist and down into my panties. I squirmed but otherwise did not resist. I couldn't believe I was letting her do this. Her lips were still sticky with white filth as the tendrils bent her down so that she could use them to further expose me. Her tongue lapped at me. I am so hot and already so wet. I can hear the lapping of her tongue against my wet clit and labia. I hold her head by the hair and feel that she is also squirming - squirming in the undulating sin of our horridly fantastic creation. Moreover, as the long, thick phallic cocks fill her, pumping harder and harder into her dark pussy and ass, she drives her tongue deeper into me.

I am not stopping it. Like before, I push on to conquer my fear, but now it excites me more than ever. It excites me so much I am unable to do anything but let these calamities take their course. I had walked this far in the gloom; it was time to sit in the bright, vivid light.

Something else is touching me. It's climbing up my chair. There are so many weird wonders watching us, giggling and fucking, smiling and plotting. It's not one but two little creatures. They are like gremlins or goblins maybe, but with bright scaly bodies, like lizards. Their bodies are slim and toned a female and a male, emerald and gold respectively. They are small like children, but their bodies are shapely and very masculine and feminine. 'Are they my host's creations? Her payback for what I may have wrought on her body?' I pondered.

The creatures climbed on to my occupied lap, and I found I could not stop them for something had bound my hands. They began to unbutton my blouse and take off my undergarments. The one that is obviously female, with emerald scales, begins to lick and suck on my right teat. It is strange that she too has breasts and nipples, though small and petite, even though she is some reptilian-lizard thing. Then again, I did come to an erotic freak show, and what a show it was. Her little teeth felt fantastic and stimulating on my aroused teat. I hoped the little golden male would do the same to the other, but he was content in just touching me in a soothing and comforting manner. They were a strange, yet, cute couple in this wonderland of terrible delights.

My host began to convulse, and all the strange things cheer with glee as her orgasm reached into me. The cocks pounding her were really getting wild, and she was bucking around like a wild mustang. It was enough to knock me backwards in my chair. A host of flying, crawling and skittering things scattered all around me when I landed. My hands no longer bound. The wall behind me was completely gone and I was left looking into a dark canopy with many glowing eyes staring down.

My host was making the most awful orgasmic sounds. It was a throbbing, jerking sound as the tentacles pounded hard and fast into her. Then like a cannon she blasted off and fell on top of me with a shower of hot cum following close behind. It was a much larger load than last time; I could feel the heavy load splash against her back after she sprawled over me.

'Wasn't that fun? Aren't you glad you came here after all?' she said with hot white fluids dripping from her sides and shoulders down onto me. I couldn't respond. This feeling, stronger than it ever was, had me hypnotized. I was hot, I was horny, but I didn't understand it. Why was I the only one affected? This creeping desire was here long before my host showed me this terrible devise and the fantasies it unlocked. I felt like a greater conspiracy was at work, and I was helpless to it. Its hot desires pierced me with a predator's eyes from every corner. The traveler's eyes, the one seen walking the lane and looking back at me, they were here looking at me through her eyes.

This mad feeling only continued as something slithered between us - something thick and smooth. 'Is it another tentacle?' I wondered. I was only half right. What popped out between our combined cleavage of chocolate and vanilla breasts pressed together, was the head of a brightly feathered serpent. It was a beautiful thing, even if I didn't care much for snakes. It was just another bizarre creation of this menagerie.

It was wriggling quite furiously. The cartoony smile on its face and pleasant hissing informed me it was at least having a good time snuggled between us. It's orange, red and yellow feathers tickled both our breasts and we couldn't help but laugh out.

'See what we have made?' my host said laughing, 'See what world we can create? We are gods! The world of our imagination will create an Eden. One by one, others will come to learn the truth. And then together we shall expand this fantastic place.'

I could feel something else moving about between us. It was twisting about my wet panties - trying to get in to invade my body. It was doing the same with my host, who bit her lip and smiled, 'Ah, mmmm, yes let us unite this way. Do you feel it, this fantastic creature, is he your creation or mine, it is hard to say, but he wants us to use his cocks, he has one for each of us.'

'What!' I demanded, 'No, I can't, I can't do this.'

'But you must! We must share this moment, embrace it together so that it can grow. Think of his cock inside you as being my lovely cock, and I will think of his inside me as yours. You, me and our creation shall create something wonderful. Feel this with me!' and my host moaned as the wriggling appendage found home inside her, and the snake creature between us hissed in pleasure.

'Yes, your fantastic cock is wonderful! You make such a wonderful guest in my house.'

'No, it is not mine.' I protested, as I watched the cartoonishly smiling serpent flick its tongue at me teasingly. It wasn't the only thing smiling. Everything in the room was gathering around; I could feel their eyes. Predators, each and every one, chanted with giggling glee for me to feel them.

The wriggling serpents cock was still trying to find its home inside of me. I squirmed and struggled against it. I don't know why, but I was afraid of it.

'Don't fight it, you came this far. You felt it this whole time and still you came this far. Don't hold back now. You must embrace it all the way.'

It wasn't my host speaking to me. At some time, without my notice, she had begun sucking the big purple dick of one of the various crazy things that stood around us. He was a half bird and half tiger like thing, a crazy mixed up cartoon character of mixed up pieces. She was sucking it so enthusiastically that other crazy things began probing at us with their bright dicks, and pleading me to suck as well.

No, the thing that had spoken was the feathered serpent between our bosoms. It spoke with the same voice as my host. 'Let us unite! Feel me become one with you.' He, she, whatever it was, wriggled harder between us. My host above moaned loudly, even with a monstrous cock between her lips.

'Was this what I wanted?' I asked myself, 'Is this what I created, or help create through the diabolic work of that machine?' I was so afraid of what the answer was, and even more afraid that I already knew it. I was afraid of my own debaucheries and lustful thoughts. In a twist of fate, I found them here taking living form. The wriggling, that awfully wonderful wriggling was getting closer to fulfilling my dark desires. I could feel it probe around my pussy lips and push against my clitoris. I could feel the serpent wriggle all across our bodies. It's smooth, tickling scales and feathers so playfully arousing. So many fantastic desires giving substance and form squawked and growled around me. Their fat, pulsing cocks of so many wild and vivid colors telling me, nay yelling at me, to indulge in my terrible fantasy.

The serpents cock was starting to go inside me now. I can feel the head pushing its way in. This was happening, I was responsible for this. The cock was so big and wriggly. It was tickling my senses. It girth squirming deeper into me was a terrible wonder. It feels so wrong, and yet, I am already gasping in delight. My god, I am already cumming! I think I must be, everything is swirling, going into black, as if I was wriggling down a tunnel - a wonderful and scary tunnel of self-pleasure. Brighter and brighter, the vivid colors swirled in my vision. I felt a oneness with them as we united in lustful bliss...

* * *

My friend Lora Jenkins is an intelligent and usually very careful person. When she took a cigarette from "Smiling" Johnson, the act denoted both intelligence and caution. With very clever work, she had discovered traces of a powerful mind altering substance that was used to lure his victims, such as young Rachel Peeler, to his door. Lora believed this particular cigarette to be the mate of one smoked by Peeler before her disappearance. Moreover, if, upon arresting Johnson, she had not confiscated this bit of evidence, its regrettably unconscientious owner would have doubtless destroyed it.

But when Jenkins shortly afterward gave me that cigarette as one of her own, she committed one of those almost inconceivable blunders which, I think, are occasionally forced upon clever people to keep their pride in check. Discovering her mistake, my detective friend spent the night searching for me. Her search was successful due to Andy McDermott, a young acquaintance to Lora, whom she met about 2:00 A.M. returning from a dance.

It turns out, that McDermott was the one who had seen me earlier on the steps of Ellyn Holt's house where she had her laboratory. He had stared at me, not with any ill intent, but because he thought I was the sickest-looking, most ghastly specimen of humanity that he had ever beheld. With the poor reputation that Holt received for being the suspect in the mysterious disappearance of Ms. Peeler, he concluded that I was going to be another poor victim to the doctor. This suspicion he imparted to Jenkins, who, of course, knew otherwise. Moreover, Holt herself had disappeared. She hadn't been seen for two days, and some believed she had skipped town, which only added to the suspicion to her connection with Peeler's disappearance.

Lora knew of Holt's home well, and on the pavement outside found the remnant of the cigarette, which she gathered and came up the steps. The sign with its mysterious inscription, "Feel the Great Presence' was not at all mysterious to her. She knew that Holt had a menagerie of strange devices and experimental discoveries that she tried to share with the general public to ease their minds and suspicions, but of course to no avail.

When she found me, I was in an extreme depression from waking up from my drugged sleep. I believed my adventure had been real. My mentality in such a dreadful state from waking back into that cold, bleak gloom of that dusty room, that I was searching among Holt's various things to try and get an understanding of it all. At first, I was merely annoyed at the interruption of my purpose when she entered the room and explained everything to me. Her explanation left me sick in the body, but in spirit, happy that the world made sense again.

The feelings of delightful terror, the suspicion of predatory eyes watching me, and the idea that my imaginative desires had created a fantastic, terrifying world just outside my eyes, existed only because of a drug-addled mind. Yet, there was problem. I was in Holt's very real laboratory.

'How do you account for the fact that I, who have never seen this doctor, was able to give you an accurate description of her?' I asked.

She pointed across the room. 'See that?' It was a life-size bust portrait, the picture of a dark skinned beauty, wise beyond her years.

'Upon entering,' continued Lora, 'the first thing you saw was that portrait, and from it your delirium built a living, speaking person. If you had smoked the whole cigarette... well, never mind - you didn't. Now I think it's high time that you interviewed a real, flesh-and-blood doctor.'

'Well, I guess I am glad it's over, but one more thing,' I asked, 'you claim the reason that Holt closed the door on my face is because she was never there to begin with. Then how was I able to see her clearly before entering this room?'

'Your memories are just out of whack, that's all.' Lora replied.

I was still not satisfied. The machine was here, just as I remembered it, with its glass bowl dome and large prongs sticking out its top. Its presence reactivated fresh memories. Terrified, I asked 'Do you know what this is, or what it does?'

'No idea, but Holt has built many wondrous things since I've know her.'

'Wondrous things you say,' I replied, and then I flipped a switch and the device quickly whirred to life with hypnotic colors and sound.

And Thus He Read the Stories Full of Monstrous Sex

* * *

On a foggy night in September, Peter Beckman had grown tired of the book he was reading. It was a required reading for his senior English class called 'Of Mice and Men' by John Steinback; a bleak and disturbing drama. Like many required readings it was a story full of deep meaning written to make its reader reflect on the nature of humanity. Peter already surmised what the story was trying to reflect upon and yet, still found the story to be rather uninteresting. It landed too squarely in the grey world of the real, and Peter was too much a daydreamer of the strange and fantastic. Though Peter had a knack of understanding the real world, he preferred to mostly avoid it. So he went down stairs to find something else to read.

A large bookcase in his mother's study held a considerable collection of the stories he was more fond of while growing up. Lewis Carol's 'Alice in Wonderland,' L. Frank Baum's 'Wizard of Oz,' and many of Pier's Anthony's 'Xanth' series lined the shelf, and in one dark corner were the works of H.P. Lovecraft, Stephan King and Algernon Blackwood. All of them weird and wild escapist tales of fantasy covering all scopes of human emotion and delight. Even the study itself was a fantastic room made up of old architecture and weird angles that did not befit the rest of the house. The shelves were even set inside of a mason work arch with worn and crumbly intricate patterns and symbols carved into it. Peter spent long hours and sometimes whole nights allowing himself to get lost in the abstract and claustrophobic slice of this wonderland nestled in a corner of the mundane world he called real life.

It was not unusual for Peter in a flight of fancy to imagine the bookcase surrounded in a mystical vaporous fog. The contents of the bookcase guarded by some unseen poltergeist that would trick his hand to pick out some mischievous tome for his daily inspiration of otherworldly pleasure. However, this evening something was amiss. A book was missing and a rather voluminous one at that. Peter could not remember a book taking up such an amount of space before, and all books were accounted for as far as he could tell.

No matter, his hands knew exactly where to look for tonight's remaining entertainment. At first they lurched for a copy of Tolkien, but then decided he wanted something of  a sword and sorcery narrative, like that produced by Robert E. Howard. Then he also took a copy of 'The Last Unicorn' by Peter S. Beagle to contrast the primal savagery with something more charming and lyrical. He snatched both in haste and hurried to his room. He did not believe in ghosts, but had a knack of frightening himself all the same when it came to farfetched conclusions. The gap in the bookshelf had a grip over his senses that he couldn't understand, and played marvelous tricks with his imagination. Peter had always been that way, maybe it was due to too many such books where the limits of the imagination were lifted away. Nonetheless, now was the time of high adventure with dragons and savage beasts.

Except the collection of Howard's work struck him in a light that was not its usual savage tone. They were still the same stories of a battle hardened hero fighting in untamed and hostile lands against all manners of beasts and demons. There was still the scantly clad beauties who either fought at the hero's side or had to be rescued from monstrous threats. Nonetheless, the warlike action, the danger and suspense was replaced with a romantic beauty both savage and wild that he had never noticed before. It was not the first time Peter's hormones got excited by the description of scantly clad warrior woman wearing only tattered loincloths for protection. Yet, there was something he couldn't quite put a finger on. Perhaps it was in the description of the prehistoric giant monstrosities like a giant snake or the draconic-like lizard beasts that sometimes these women were used to appease in sacrifice. This time around they somehow seemed more arousing than dangerous.

Implications of such a taboo sexual deviance hadn't much crossed his mind before. Now it was the only thing he could think about. It was making him have a rather uncomfortable time with the erection in his pants. He couldn't justify it. The sexy hot woman being taken by their warrior conquerors he could relate. The idea of primal, prehistoric monstrosities coming to play with their chained sacrificial offerings, that was different. It wasn't in any of the stories, yet, his mind seemed to create its own. A woman chained with crude iron shackles waiting to be sacrificed to some primal and ancient beast. It is a prehistoric terror, much like the tyrannosaurus in power and design. At first he looks menacingly at its prize, getting ready to tear apart and devour its offering, and then the hero shows up in the nick of time. He is rippling muscles covered in sweat and scars, a testament to how harsh his fantastic world is. He wields an ax bigger than he should carry and slays the beast in a violent battle of glory and blood.

But nay, this time he does not show up and the beast gets what he wants. And to everyone's surprise, Peter's most of all, the giant beast of teeth and scales begins to lick his dirty and sweaty treat. He particularly licks her naughty bits behind her loincloth to see if she's in heat. She is shocked, and so is Peter for imagining such a thing. She struggles against her constraints and yells curses at the beast, but he doesn't care. She is his sacrifice after all, and he is a god to these primitive savages who worship him here up on his mountain. He continues to lick her, he really likes this one. He can find food elsewhere easy enough. It is finding a mate to please him that is a more tiresome endeavor up here on his isolated mountain. She just needs a little convincing. She has a lot of fire and spirit as she screams and yells at him. She tells him she will tear him apart herself if she is ever free from these chains. The beast is amused, she would make a good and protective mother if she was of the same blood as he. Her companionship will have to do, but first he must put out her fires. His fat purple tongue goes deep inside her from underneath her loincloth. She is warm, soft and moist, a very tasty treat. With how fat and slurping his tongue is, even she can't help but feel pleasure from it.

"Yes, make her moan, make her realize she wants it," Peter finds himself saying. "My giant sexual appendage unsheathes itself from its scaly domain, it will be next to go inside of ...."

Peter snapped out of his lull noticing his hard dick throbbing in his hand. He decided it was time to switch to something else. His mind was just about to show him hints of how this vastly inhuman cock could be much like a barbarian's sword. It was not the type of thing he had ever imagined before. Peter S. Beagle's 'The Last Unicorn' would hopefully provide the distraction he needed. The story of a unicorn, last of her kind, on a journey to discover what has happened to her kin. Such a charming and fun story full of more fanciful adventures with themes full of woefully lonely characters seeking companionship. The unicorn is transformed into a beautiful and fare skinned woman by a bumbling magician, and she comes to learn love and regret with a prince because of it.

But then there was the miserable and lonely king Haggard who could only fight his solace and despair with the sight of unicorns. So he stole them all away from their enchanted woods with the help of the Red Bull. He, a giant flaming monstrosity drives them all into the ocean, all except one, and that is where the story began.

Nothing is explained about this fiery red beast other than its servitude to his lonesome master. With that thought in mind, Peter found himself wondering more about this fantastic beast, and could it, or would it do more than just drive the unicorns into the sea. He had to be lonely too. That was the theme of the tale in a way, or at the very least the theme of King Haggard who was such an undomesticated bird; he sought so badly to run back to the wild. The Red Bull was his desires taking a monstrous form. When he learned the last unicorn had taken on such a form as a beautiful maiden, perhaps his desires took on something much more carnal and lascivious. The Bull became the instrument of that salacious intent to embrace the wild and fantastic. Its flames burned red not with rage or hate, but with a lust that could not be quenched by the mundane.

He burned with such bright passion and she was vulnerable. No magic of her unicorn self to defend her while she was trapped in a frail mortal body. She was losing herself to her humanity, she was becoming too human and forgetting what it was to be an immortal creature of the forest. He was the perfect beast to re-teach her what she truly was and should be. They would play an ancient game and he would chase her, not into the sea like the others, but into a secluded place. There his massive frame could overwhelm her frail human body both inside and out. She would come to remember her immortality well after that.

Oh, what was he doing? Peter put the book down and decided he was clearly done reading for tonight. He had the urges that any teenage boy should have, but this was just ridiculous. On top of it, something else had been disturbing him. Something he couldn't get his mind off of this whole time, even during his vivid journey with monsters sexing woman from his stories. The large gap in the bookshelf he had seen before. It should have been nothing of consequence and nothing to care about. Yet, it was ever present on his mind. It shouldn't have been there, yet, all books were accounted for when he quickly checked it over. He thought about going down stairs to check it again, but it was such a trivial matter. A book was probably borrowed by a sibling, or if all books were accounted for then he just forgotten about the existence of one and would be reminded of it soon. Though, forgetting about one of his beloved books was blasphemous to consider. So he set forth to calm his mind from fretting over all the confusion that he was for no reason dealing with.

He did this first by satisfying his young libido with a well hidden magazine he had found in the attic. It effectively erased the weird lustrous boner gained from the strange stories he concocted from his books with a tamer and more modest fare of lovely woman naked and posing for him. Then he set of for bed satisfied that his body and soul had been put at ease from this evening's marathon.

However, he woke up two or three times in the night, an unusual occurrence. Each time he awoke with a sudden start, because it was as though his dreams had become too real and too vivid. He felt like his mind was going to burst as it tried to puncture through the veil of dream to make it reality. His dreams were set on those same stories. Not the ones written in ink, but the ones his mind had created in their place. The large dinosaur and his captured sacrifice, and the mighty Red Bull and his captured unicorn kept playing out in his dreams. In truth, they were more vivid now without the distractions from earlier. He swore he could feel the texture of the dirt and sand on the woman's sweaty flesh. The feint aroma of her intoxicating fragrance lingered in the night air, and her taste still lay on his tongue. His tongue was numb and tingly from being clamped inside such a hot and tight space of the loins of the Amazon princess. His cock raged throbbing in his shorts like the Red Bull's as it rested on the rump of his captured unicorn mistress. Pre-cum leaked into his briefs and required his attention to get out of bed and make himself decent.

He was tired and tried to make quick work of his uncomfortable awakenings. Sweaty and thoughts blazing, he thought each time it would be impossible to fall back asleep. Yet, each time he managed with ease only to wake up again under the same circumstances as before. Restless and horny with a dick burning to be pleased, he finally gave up altogether on sleep when he woke from a particularly violent spasm. His body had enough of his lecherous dreams, and decided to fulfill its own climax while his mind persisted on showing how well a monster could pleasure a woman's naughty bits with a cock not meant for such interspecies intercourse.

Downstairs and back to the bookcase, he was staring at the gap. He thought about reading again, but he simply was too tired for that. Besides, his mind might start wondering again. Anyway, there was that gap again, and it was bothering him more than before. Perhaps it was best, it kept his mind off of the other things. He counted the books, and kept track of them by name. All seemed to be accounted for. Perhaps he was just too tired.

* * *

The morning was bright and cheery, and Peter came down to the smell of coffee and maple syrup. He ate cheerfully, glad that the foul weather of the past night had not wrecked havoc on his weekend. He hoped to get together with friends and set up another exciting game of role-playing. Perhaps if the weather was kind enough, they could set up their pen and paper out on the patio, for there wasn't much time left in the year to do that sort of thing.

After breakfast he walked by the study, scanning the bookshelf as he did. He had to stop and begin to question just what he had dreamt and what he actually witnessed last night. The gap in the bookcase was gone, yet, it didn't seem like anything had been moved, added or replaced. Everything was exactly as it had been the night before, minus the gap. Peter had to ask both his sisters and his mother if they had taken any books the night before and replaced them. Nobody said they had, and questioned him in turn about what book he thought had gone missing. Yet, that was the blasted thing that bothered Peter the most, he didn't know which book.

"I swore there was a gap on the third shelf last night, but whatever," he said in a mumbled voice.

"There is never a gap on the shelf," his little sister Noreen spoke. "You can take lots of books from the shelf and it never leaves a gap. Haven't you noticed?"

Jean, the older sister, told Peter not to mind her as she was just being silly. She reminded him how Noreen also thought the pictures in Brian Jacques 'Redwall' stories could move and talk, or how 'Reynard the Fox' had told her how to misbehave and pull that little stunt on Mrs. Clout during class. His mother added that it had been the same for his oldest sister before she went away to college. Telling Peter that too much fantasy could distort his perception of reality if he didn't slow down reading all those books. Of course that wasn't something he would do. Peter loved those books as they had been the foundation of his youth. The incident from the night before was of minor consequence and he felt ashamed for even bringing the matter up.

Soon, he was off reading again, picking out all the stories from the shelf that always delighted him. Yet, it quickly became apparent that something was indeed wrong with him. Slowly his imagination kept distracting from the words on the page and he was inventing new endings and pathways to how each story was actually written. It started out small, not quite as overt from that night before. Yet, whenever a story produced monsters, either as villains or allies, he found himself sinking into that character more than he was for the main protagonist of the story. It didn't make sense, but he found himself wondering what it would be like if he was one of the great spiders of Middle Earth or its greater dragon Smaug. It was much like before when he became the 'Red Bull,' only without the inappropriately erotic tones. Those came more slowly and sneaking back on him in such stories like 'Beauty and the Beast' or the 'Kolak of the Werebeasts' by Adam Pfeffer. These were stories already with a bit of romance to help move things along. As time moved on and more stories were read, his mind began rewriting whole chapters and sequences of novels so as to fit this absurd monster eroticism in its place. Peter checked and rechecked multiple times the writing on the page to make sure he indeed hadn't just read about the Minotaur of Crete taking virgin woman into a massive labyrinth playhouse to be spanked and fucked by his massive bovine cock.

The more he read the more it happened. Over the course of three months he read every book on the shelf, and then reread them again. He could swear they were getting worse with each read. He must be going mad, but he was only affected by the books on the shelf. The boring reads from school, or the books from the public library were oddly unaffected. Yet, as soon as he picked up a book from his cherished shelf of fantastic tales the stories became more alive and erotic in his head than they should be for a teenage boy about to turn eighteen. He would take the time to carefully scrutinize the words and sentences to make sure they were written as intended, but as soon as he began to read at leisure the story changed.

Like when it did about a story of a princess carried by caravan as an envoy to a distant land. A dragon attacks the caravan, scattering knights, soldiers and any others between him and his prize. He is after one thing. He can smell her because she is not like the others even though she pretends to be. The soldiers are powerless against him. Dragons are rarely encountered, and when they are they are formidable indeed, even to the most experienced dragon slayer. With scales harder than plate steel and a breath able to char bone, the caravan chooses to cower rather than fight. This only leaves less to defend the princess as she and her tiny escort tries to run for the cover of the deep forest. His hit and run strategy of thinning the fray works and he quickly swoops in from above. He is gone just as fast as he arrived with his catch secured pleading in his talons.

Back at his den he sets her free. She is terrified of him but not as much as most other mortals would be. That is because she knows his kind, it's in her blood. Underneath her modest clothes are subtle hints that she isn't the king's daughter. It is rare for humans and dragons to mingle but when they do it creates a unique and magical crossbreed; some show it more than others. This princess could hide her mark under her shall and dress. He wondered how she would hide it when the time came for her to marry, or even if her father knew about her true parentage.

The princess stripped naked to reveal her secrets understands why he was after her. She is ashamed of what she is and curses his kind for making her. Yet, he cares not for what she is. Dragons are ancient and powerful beings, but they are also few in number. He has needs that require a partner. He explains he does not care that she is only a half-breed. Dragons don't judge others the same way humanity does. As long as she is a warm companion and wild company, he will set her free when he is done. He is only looking for exotic company, and warns her that he may be the only source for her needs that she ever sees, because men of her race will reject and detest the impurity of her birth.

And so he presents himself by laying his back against his cavern wall. He poses for her with is cock extended out from his shiny body of sapphire blue. It is a rather large cock, and he hopes it doesn't frighten her. It is also ribbed and has an unusually spade shaped tip unlike a humans. This should only make it more fantastic for her pleasure and she would not regret it if she were to allow for this union of species.

She is stunned at this sudden display but also taken in by the swirling azure and cream colors, as well as its brilliant iridescence. He coaxes her to embrace him, that he will love her like no other. He tells her they are both in need of playmates and that not many are around. He states she is not a prisoner or a slave; he just wants to share her body both now and hopefully later when she is impressed by his performance. A performance he promises will make her not need the rejection of any human partner, for they won't be able to satisfy her.

The timid princess thinks about it and looks over the parts of her that she has hidden from her kind. She has her own blue scales and a hint of small horns hidden under her white hair that likes to shimmer sometimes with the same iridescence as his cock. She knows all too well the biased nature of humans, and how it will be hard for her to find a man, let alone a prince due to the nature of her royalty. So, little by little she comes to him as he waits. She fears him still and fears what she is doing. Yet, as she touches him she realizes he isn't so alien. She feels the draconic side of herself, and it is not petty or concerned, nor is it a royal entity than must worry about her image and mannerisms amongst the crowd. Her dragon blood is ancient and powerful, it does not need the recognition of conceited kings or permission of the people's dull ideas.

Soon she is wrapped around his draconic manhood. The more she touches it, the more she gets into it. She is attracted to how smooth it is; like well polished waxed marble. She was still a virgin due to her having to hide her body, she didn't know how this all worked let alone how she would get something so big into her. He was patient, there was no way her escort would find them here. She had all the time to touch, taste and explore him, and he would rather she be comfortably up to the task. Besides, her small hands and petite body felt nice. He enjoyed the relaxing company as she settled in soft and purring on the bits of him that saw little of this type of excitement.

"Mistress, you will make me cum if you keep going about things that way," he said to her in a calm and gentle voice.

"I am a bit new to this game," she said curiously. "Education of what happens in the bedchambers is not something they like to talk about much in the royal house. I only know that his goes inside of me here to release a masculine seed."

"Yes," he answered, "and it is a thick milk, especially for us dragons."

"Is this milk rich in flavor? I have only ever drank the milk of cows that the maids bring in, or from the teat of my mother when I was but a babe."

"This is not the nourishing milk of a mother, even if squeezed from the teat of a cow for your royal consumption," he said with a chuckle. "As for its flavor I could not say, but in your predicament you shall have mine all over you soon enough."

"Should I stick you inside of me before that occurs, so that it goes where it was meant to be placed?"

"Even if you did, I am a dragon and shall produce more milk than your body can take, even if you share our blood. No, if you are to do this you must get used to getting dirty. Leave your royal manners behind when with me, and embrace the wildness of your other being. My milk is going to wash over your whole body inside and out."

This gave her a moment to pause. Being a royal princess was a life of being proper and clean. She was meant to obey certain mannerisms and shy away from disrespectable things. Now here she was naked on a dragon's body, caressing his filthy male appendage with her naked skin. It was blasphemous in the eyes of the royal court and the holy order that instilled the faith of the land. That made it all the more exciting for her, especially since the curse of her draconic blood almost demanded this.

She placed her lips over the tip of his cock waiting to taste this rich milk he promised and found that if it tasted anything like the smooth shaft she so liked touching then it would indeed have a magnificently rich flavor. She was an amateur, but he didn't care. He was in long need of company to share his body with. He had been eyeing her as he flew by her castle at night, concealing his presence in the clouds and mist. He knew what she was, and he saw it as only right for them to be together now.

"Your body is twitching and this shiny appendage of yours is pulsing with heat. Have I done things correctly for you to produce this milk you speak?" she said while rubbing the throbbing appendage with amazement.

"Yes, you have done well enough." He said with a grimace, "Now all you have to do is prepare yourself..." He followed with a roar as his first spurt came bursting out in a long iridescent stream. It quickly fell down splashing thickly all over the princess's amusingly surprised face. The tail end of the load splashed down upon her little breasts glittering in blue scales, and then it proceeded to ooze and slip down the rest of her body. More was to cum and the second and third spurts were just as much a spectacle. When he was done she had nice cream colored stripes to go with her shimmering half-dragon scales all up and down her little curvy body...

...What a mess Peter had produced all over himself. It wasn't the first time this had happened and he was surprised he was able to keep his spunk off the pages of the book. It was a good thing too as it was an older book with a collection of old Germanic fairytales. He was rather fond of the old tales inside, and was a little sad that his mind had decided to change them. Nonetheless, he had grown quite fascinated by this predicament of his. He was now reading even more to see where these new stories would go, and to marvel at what new thing he had become as he sought to quench his bestially sexual apatite.

He read all the books again a fourth and even a fifth time. He was delighted to find that the stories kept changing for him. He spent more time in his room reading and re-reading as he took to his bed new human captors and willing female mates to his monstrous den. He was a wolf, a lion, a dragon, and many other things. His studies declined, his grades slipped and his family saw less and less of him. He wanted to know why this was happening, and the only way he saw he could find the answers was to get lost in these books.

Then one day he pulled a book from his shelf he didn't recognize. It was a thick, heavy book with a cover made from wood and tree bark. It seemed alive with fresh moss growing on its covers and spine. Inside, the pages seemed to be made up of old parchment, except the images painted upon them were very fresh, and very vivid. There were few words and the ones that did exist were not in a language Peter could understand. There were a lot of symbols too, but none of that mattered. The painted images were all of the stories he had been reading. The first page he turned to was of the azure dragon and his half-dragon mate. Ropes of iridescent semen spouted upward from the tip of his ribbed, swirly colored cock and landing in stripes across his beautiful captured prize. Everything, every little detail was just as he had thought he read it in the old Germanic fairytale book. More interestingly, the gap it left on the shelf was the same size, and in the same place as he remembered seeing it that one night before. This was the missing book.

* * *

Peter had to admit that he was like a kid who just found his fathers best porn stash; except this was the holy grail of porn. This book was so densely packed, and the images were so vivid and wild. He stole it away to his bedroom and did not leave for a good long while. He had illustrations, so many illustrations, to examine. In overwhelming amazement he recognized the Minotaur, the gryphon and dragons he had been role-playing in his dreams. He saw the sea beasts, unicorns and even some of the twisted and terrible nightmare creatures from the darker stories crafted by the weird authors like Lovecraft now given the same carnal and perverted menace as he had read in the new re-imaged stories. Squirming black coils with phallic tips slithering out of the darkness and pulling colorful and voluptuous bodies back in with them into the spaces between space. They stuffed their black seething coils, as many as they could fit, into wet pussies to fill wombs with alien spunk by the rivers full. Each monstrosity had its own story of how and why it took his desired mate. Why they were always human, outside their breed or species was a fascinating question. Yet, this book was all about inter crossing boundaries between the real and the fantastic, and making sure all parties in the end enjoyed the encounter no matter how frightening it initially may have been. 

Peter had to finally leave his room. He was exhausted and spent. He knew he looked worse for wear, or that his mother would scold him for his behavior. His mother  was in the dining room. She was helping Jean and Noreen with a crafting project that they had been working of for some time. Something he himself should have been a part of, but as of late could not be bothered. All seemed well until his family turned toward him. For an instant he saw their feminine beauty in the warm light seeping through the glass patio door onto their natural curves and gorgeous hair. A hunger faired up inside of him all too familiar. He shook his head in disgust remembering this was his family, and he was terrified at this inner beast that awaked inside of him to such the extent that for the briefest of moments had desired his own, particularly his sister Jean who looked the loveliest of all.

His terror was matched by his family's gaping faces as they turned to acknowledge him. Even the family pet, a terrier by the name of Spencer, sprung to his feet and quickly evacuated as though he was a terrible stranger. Noreen began to cry and Jean had to comfort her from her sudden outbreak of tears. His mother quickly came and escorted him from the room. He was baffled, confused and was wondering if his sudden arousal did more than just frighten him. Yet, when his mother took him back upstairs he soon discovered why. He looked at his hands and noticed something wrong with them. There were patches of iridescent scales coming up over parts of his skin, and small talons bursting from his fingertips. As he began to examine more of himself, more features not meant to be on his body became apparent like feathers and fur, and now that he was apparent of it, his canines did seem larger and sharper in his gums.

"It's alright, I should have known you found it, it was only a matter of time." His mother seemed rather calm about his condition, all things considered. It was he who was panicking.

"Don't worry, you'll revert back in a bit, the change should only be temporary for now. You looked at quite a bit of it didn't you? You're going to have to pay attention from now on, Noreen is too young, she doesn't know, and Jean I think is only beginning to suspect but she isn't letting anyone else know. You Peter, were ripe of age, and you were so fond of that bookcase. It was only a matter of time." His mother said gently trying not to alarm him too much.

Even though he was in shock he still managed to ask what and why this was happening, and what was with that book his mother seemed to know so much about. The more he thought about what the contents of the book were, the more his fear mixed with shame and embarrassment. This was not the thing he would like to discuss with his mother, especially after the things he seen and done upon the pages of that book.

"Your father, brought home that book long before any of you kids were born," his mother continued, "it has been hiding on that bookshelf ever since. It wouldn't let us get rid of it, and would only reveal itself whenever it thought it convenient. Your father is in that book too, you wouldn't recognize him now, but me and him had a wild time together with the fantasies the book wove for us. It's what led us to having more kids that we planned on having."

The revelations that his parents had been deep in those pages of that mysterious book made him shudder. He was glad that he didn't accidentally stumble on the recordings of that. Nonetheless, his thoughts were filled with so many questions, but there was one that immediately came to ask. "This has something to do with dad actually leaving doesn't it? He never went away on that mission... and Rebecca never went to college did she?"

His mother stopped and it took a long moment before she sighed and said, "It showed you more than I hoped."

"No, I just figured it out from all of what you just said... but I guess, maybe what I have seen has helped too."

"I told you too much fantasy would distort your reality," she said with a sad smile.

Part II

"So this is your old place. It's kind of weird that your mom left to see your dad after he has been gone for so long. Oh, hey, this is an interesting bookcase, and all the books are still here. I thought your brother Peter was supposed to take care of the place. Why didn't he take these?" Carol said as she ran her fingers across dusty covers.

She was a friend to little Noreen, who wasn't so little anymore. Noreen had now become a grown woman of twenty-eight, unwed and on her own. The old house had been left to her, but nobody had lived in it for years. The room is barren, with all the furniture and other knickknacks gone, only the bookshelf with its fantastic stories remained. They had always been a great delight to her when she was much younger. She could swear that those old pictures could move and talk.

"Oh those. They were the most precious things we ever owned," she replied back to Carol.

"Then why did he leave them here?" Carol asked again as she reached for a strange big old book with a cover made out of wood.

"Because he left them here for me. And that one in particular is the one I was looking for," she said as she snatched the book away before Carol found herself in trouble for opening it.

"Why? It looks like someone's old arts and crafts project. Were you the one who thought of making the book's cover out of tree bark?" Carol said with smirk.

"Carol, remember how I told you there was some things you were going to have to deal with if you came to live with me in my old home, or about the reason I needed to return back here?" Noreen asked as she clutched the book close to her breast.

"So that's the book you say cursed your family? You really are going to keep on about that silly idea. What was it again, your family members keep on disappearing? Except you keep telling everyone else your brother moved to Europe, and your sister Jean is living down in Iowa as a writer."

"Well...Actually my brother is here, in this book anyway. Let me show you since you will be taking care of all this for me." Noreen said as she grabbed Carol by the arm and brought her to sit down on the empty study room floor.

Only the dusty old books on their shelf provided any color to the empty room; that was until she opened the book. The pages were still just as bright and vivid as they had always been. Carol gasped at the things she saw. Like so many before her, there were no words appropriate for the images that moved, squirmed and coiled magically about on their own. Normally such things concerning the fantastic sexual adventures between different species, where woman and men took on the most monstrous of partners, would be deeply frowned upon. Nonetheless, the magic and the wonder kept Carol speechlessly captivated. Everything was sinfully erotic: From the slow and graceful movements of a black unicorn rearing up and over a young and supple maiden in a fairy glen, to the sexual acrobatics of Lewis Carol's funny purple cat mimicking the more difficult positions of the Kama Sutra with Alice.

"I...I think I know that beast!" Carol exclaimed, "I mean, it's hard to explain, but it's exactly as I pictured it when I read the story when I was younger. And this one here too, from a story, I think the author was named Brooks. Yes, it was 'Terry Brooks'. It's exactly as I remember picturing them. Of course not like this. I mean... Wow!"

Carol kept turning the pages. Noreen wasn't surprised. She knew all to well the captivating powers this book had. Even though the book presented to the viewer the most sinful and lewd acts of interspecies love, sex and breeding habits, the illustrations were so fantastically alive that there was no doubting a supernatural power made them. Any viewer could come to feel like they were the ones in wild, forbidden passion with an exotic lover, or even be that exotic lover. Noreen couldn't count the times she had cum to the idea of some great majestic creature with rippling feral muscles holding her tightly against his rugged body. She could smell the forbidden enchantment of his scent even now. His cock covered in mighty thorns piercing her womanhood and its interior places that no mortal man could do with their simple dicks. It had been the same for all her family; all deflowered, claimed and taken away by the power of this one book. It was their own imaginations that done them all in. This book twisted their deepest darkest delights into something that could touch their bodies forbiddingly. After feeling the tongues and cocks of wondrous things all over and inside of her, Noreen had to come back, and she had to bring back somebody who would take care of the bookshelf after she was gone.

"I'm glad you enjoy it." she said with a smile, "You will take care of it for me wont' you? The bookshelf needs to be looked after, and my brother has been so lonely doing the job all by himself." She helped Carol turn the page to a new and interesting image.

The beast on the page was a chimera; part lion, but with the horns of a ram. Golden fur covered his upper torso which was shaped like a great athletic mans, but with a neck and chest covered in thick regal fur. His legs were instead covered in a blacker and courser fur. They were as black as the sin of his massive cock and fur covered balls. His feet cloven like the devils. On his back were great draconic wings with azure scales that matched the same ones on his long serpentine tail. Before him was an ebony beauty brought before him as a sacrifice by the priestess of the book.

The priestess watched quietly smiling as the paper thin fabric of Carol's sacrificial garments were shredded by the monster's talons so that he could touch her dark flesh in his soft furry paws.

"You brought me one with flavor this time my little sister," the beast spoke grinning with his paws running all over the chocolaty breasts of his new plaything. The priestess only sat amused as she played with herself and watched what was to come.  

Carol, as though a character in a play, found herself saying with an enthusiasm she didn't know she had, "I have allowed myself to be this sacrifice. Do as you will with me if it means saving the people from your terrible magic."

The priestess giggled, "She thinks she can sate your lusty hunger dear brother." she then turned to the sacrifice and asked with a wicked smile, "How long will you last before I have to sacrifice another?"

Carol moved and embraced this monster as though she was embracing her husband. Bending down she gave his large studded black cock a kiss, and then sucked it all the way down to the hilt. She did it like it was meant to be, and as the story was written. She was a sacrifice, and servant to the high priestess of the people of the high Alpine mountains. They had always served terrible gods; gods who hungered for the sensual flesh of mortals to please their carnal desires.

Carol could remember something about another life as she eagerly licked around each twitching little pleasure nodule on this weird creature's cock. It had something to do with a book, a room, and an old bookshelf. That all seemed unimportant now. She felt she should be more resistant to this carnal course. However, she was a sacrifice, and willing to save the people from this creature's wrathful might. There was no other way to stop him and the priestesses that worshiped him, for they wielded powerful magic. This was the only way, yet, the more she tasted his magic, the more she wanted it all to herself. Such a wild and intoxicating drug was this forbidden flavor. She had to keep going so as to get the full taste of his bounty.

When he came, she had to wonder if it wasn't he who was being sacrificed to her. Her skill and ability to please with tongue and lip was said to be the greatest in the land. She brought the beast to his knees as he expelled a mighty brew through her lips and onto her skin. It provided quite the contrast as it dripped down her dark shades and strong curves.

"Is that enough to satisfy?" she said as she let his stain dribble down her breasts and onto the marble floor. The warmth and texture of his monstrous aphrodisiac perked her nipples when it coated them on its slippery decent down her body. She silently cursed her body for becoming so aroused at this tyrant who would force her to submit more than just her lips.

It was such a foolish question, they both knew it, and it only made the priestess laugh as her brother pulled Carol up, slung her over his shoulder and carried his prize over to an ancient dining couch. It was in a style reminiscent of those used by Greek's and Romans to lounge as hedonists while they enjoyed the fruits of this world. Carol was the one made to lay in leisure upon its slightly arched surface with her head placed on a pillow of velvet. She wondered how much sweat, cum and sexual fluid stained its cushions from all the sacrifices this beast indulged to keep him tame.

"It is time to feast and be merry as we celebrate. Not many who are forced to service me get the pleasure of being served upon." The great chimera said as he stood over her head.

From a gold tray he produced the plumpest grapes and goblets full of the reddest wines. "You pleased me; you will find that I am kind to those who do. So lay and be rested. Enjoy the fruits from my gardens and the wine from my pantry. You will find the luxuries of a queen in my temple; so you should count yourself lucky to be chosen for me. My dear sister has quite the exotic taste. I wonder if the flavor of your flesh is as intoxicating as the flavor you produce for the sights."

He fed her one grape at a time. She did not dare refuse him for far too much was at stake. Her body was a small price to pay to keep the beast tame. If she could perform well then perhaps the slave could become the master. There had been many before her, and their fates unknown. No doubt they were forced to indulge this monsters sexual apatite in the same way. What could she do different now that it was her turn to challenge the beast and his insatiable hunger?

He had a bounty of food and wine, but he refused to partake any himself. He had another desert in mind as he bent over and began licking ravenously her chocolate flavored pussy lips. His hunger was ravenous and he knocked over the tray of grapes as he lost control of his gracious demeanor. His plump cock and fragrant furry sack wrapped in black velvet swung over her lips. They would be the only morsels he would offer her now in his bent over her in lustrous frenzy. Cum still dripped from his cock from the pleasure her lips had already given it, putting more white color to her skin as it dripped down. She wanted to suck upon its pleasing texture ounce again. Not because its taste was new and wild, but because if she could wrangle her skills again, he might just fall victim to her magic. She must hurry for his skill was quite good, and he was causing her to squirm under the spell his rough tongue was able to produce. He ate her like a wild animal, tearing and licking at her sex as though he must do so before vultures arrived to steal his meal. His growling fury and forced intrusion of his tongue became less and less restrained as he lost his senses to his wild ambition. Lifting her ass off the bed until it had become pointless for him to even lay her there to begin with.

She was dangling by his grasp. He held her legs spread eagle in a v-shape until she relaxed their pose and wrapped around his neck and mane for better support. He shifted his paws to hold her by the waist, both large enough to almost fully wrap around it, providing the perfect hold as he devoured her pussy. The juices of her violated sex and from his saliva made it appear like he had smashed a whole bushel of grapes against his muzzle. By the time he came up for air the fur around his whisker was dripping. All she could do was swing limply against him and be glad that his body was cushioned was such lush fur. She was drunkenly light headed, either from her orgasms or from being dangled about so carelessly. When he was finally done with her he dropped her casually back onto the bed.  When he wiped his dripping maw with a gleaning smile, she wondered if he had not done it purposely to prevent her from sucking on his raging cock again. She was good, too good; he had already learned that lesson. When she managed to land a single careful lick while he had been busy delighting his taste buds he realized the potential danger of her power.

The beast sat down next to her grasping his hard pulsing cock as though trying to quiet it. He spoke with both contemplation and satisfaction "You came close to subduing me. Never have I met a prize that has brought me to my knees or made me resist embracing my masculinity. I enjoy boasting of my skill and abilities, my sacrifices are always forced to submit to me; forced to embrace me until I am satisfied. Yet, they never last through it. Their minds break and they become limp playthings who soon come to bore me as they do nothing but let themselves fall victim to my delivering pleasure. But you! You first brought me to my knees at which I thought to reward you. And when I fell victim to my own desires you nearly took me again. I desire you more than any I have ever had before. My cock is pulsing so hard it hurts. Yet, if I take you now I wonder if I might not find myself vulnerable to your hidden powers. You are the first to give me reason to pause."

With that the night was over. Carol was back in the mostly empty study of Noreen's old home. The vivid pages of the strange tome were held open in front of her. Noreen smiled over top of it with a wicked grin.

"Interesting book isn't it? My brother could never put it down, and it had a strange effect over my whole family. They say my daddy was a monster from this book, and that me and my siblings were conceived from his stories, but my families chapter is ending. Still, I wonder if this new chapter of yours will end any differently. You've done well so far. However, my brother is much like his daddy, and you might just be the right one for him."

Shipwrecked in the Clutches of Lust

* * *

Prologue

She was a radiant beauty who possessed long, wet locks of golden hair as bright and cheery as the sunshine reflecting off the calm green waters she was found in. The body and length of her curls twisted around her shoulders and breasts to go all the way down to her pelvis and buttocks, covering her shame. Yet, the erotic allure of her presentation made those who discovered her believe they had found a radiant river naiad, or maybe a daughter of Aphrodite who chose to rise naked and tempting from the Greys river instead of out of the sea. It was not the first time mysterious things had washed out onto this river's banks. There had been a time or two when a woman, naked and stumbling, had come out of the forested mountains with her body marked with forbidden magic. It was likely that if this maiden of the river ever awoke, she too would be reclaimed by whatever forces had courted her. Some locals even said it was best to leave her be so as to keep whatever was surely chasing her from invading the peace and privacy of the nearby small town.

With her were the scattered remains of what could only have been a journal, or perhaps a diary of sorts. The pages were torn and fragile from their river voyage, and had to be carefully handled while they were collected. When put together they told a rather complete and interesting story. Most fascinatingly, they claimed that this woman was neither from the area, nor had she ever visited this mountain land of erotic ghosts and specters. Nay, her journal belonged to a seafarer traveling the coast. The only problem, the Greys was over a thousand miles from the ocean.

The journal also had two individuals recording the same tale, though at different periods of time. The latter had far more elegant handwriting. Yet, their pages were far more tattered and rough. Perhaps the river battered them more than the rest. They also told the more terrifyingly erotic story; not pages that any child should read. They only described bondage and monsters. Taboo and carnal, they should have been quickly disposed of, yet... Unfortunately, it was not the first time the town had been privy to such things. Therefore, the story was archived with all the rest.

Where would you like to start this erotic and weird mystery?

From the beginning where the weird events unfold?

* * * *

Or where forbidden monsters are told on the pages most taboo?

Part I

* * *

Journal Dated April, 2004

It was in the Mermaid's Smile Tavern when I first met the fiery red haired woman, and whom I thought to be one of the liveliest and most enthralling bar wenches this side of Maine. She caught the attention of many with her ruby attire and brightly flaring personality that she used to flirt with any that crossed her path. It wouldn't have been surprising if she hadn't already slept with a few. After all, this was a tavern met for sailors who had been too long at sea and needed a little company.

Nonetheless, I was surprised to find that she was a sailor herself; a captain even, and the only one who had heard of, or been to Shipwreck Island. I was not expecting to find any seafaring captain as familiar with the waters of Cabot Strait until I traveled to Newfoundland or the northern cape of Nova Scotia. Once I had learned she was exactly the right captain, I began setting up a bargain with her, especially when she began telling me she could take me straight into the depths of that island.

The island was considered a myth and most modern day sailors had forgotten about it. However, in the 'age of sail' when shipwrecks were more common in the fog bound waters of eastern Canada, there was old talk of an island that devoured more ships than any other treacherous part of the sea. Admittedly, I knew it was as just as tall of a tale as mermaids, krakens, or any other unimaginable sailor's tale about the ghosts of the deep. It was my job as both a historian and archaeologist to learn more about these fascinating things that intrigued me.

This fiery, flirtatious captain was eager to give me passage and even offered to do so for little fare or fee. She may have had a little too much to drink, and I truly had my doubts about her stories. Yet, she insisted that the season was ripe for adventure. She then proceeded to tell me about her boat and her crew of six; herself included. So for the next few hours I let her entertain me.

She talked about the island as being small and treacherously surrounded by rocky cliffs, but it was the massive sea cave that made her description hard to swallow. The cave was big enough, she claimed, to swallow a small sized schooner; of which she had just the right sized ship to enter. She claimed the cave is deep, and perhaps that the whole island is hollow. Her drunken humor even went so far as to claim that it was so deep as to 'flow into reaches beyond the depths of the earth,' whatever that means. I wondered how it related to the shipwrecks the island was so named for. I had never heard about this cave before in any other version of its legend.

"Oh yes, there are many old skeletons of ships from old," she told me. "They are piled as high as you can imagine all along the cliffs. That region of water is known for its heavy fog that can disorient the best captains of even today. The waters around her are also hostile and mean. Those that have managed to avoid running into her don't see her as much of an island, but rather just a curious obstacle to stay clear from."

I asked why it was not on any map. Something like that would be marked, especially by now, on any nautical map. My drunken companion just laughed at me and told me it must be the fog to blame.

She was full of wild stories, and I had to admit she was fun to listen to. Perhaps, it was because she not only insisted in filling my ear but also my glass. I do have to admit it is quite difficult to remember many of the stories she told me when she wondered off with other adventures. I think I was becoming a bit overly enamored with her, which is a weird thing to say, as I have never swung that way. Yet, she was a character in both her looks and in her words. She moved with great spirit and zeal to animate the words of her stories, which gave such a beautifully illustrated look to the curves of her body.

What I didn't understand was why many of the men were not trying their hands at fetching this fine wench. I guess I received my answer when a rather large and able walking sailor blown himself into the bar by the gusty night breeze. He ordered a glass of gin and greedily raised it to his lips. Then suddenly with the sound of breaking glass I saw him throw up his hands and stare at my talkative companion with unspeakable terror, then hurry back outside into the gusty air. My companion seemed not to notice or care. Yet, I still don't imagine the reason the poor man dropped his gin, abandon his money, and flee like he did.

* * *

That woman got me drunk, drunker than I have been in a long time. Yet, for all the liquor that she kept serving up, I do not feel worse for wear. In fact, I feel absolutely wonderful considering that I now find myself upon her schooner sailing northbound.

I can't remember all the details, but I know that my red-haired compatriot was able to whisk me away to her quarters while in my inebriated state. What I do remember was her taking off all her clothes. She did so slowly. I remember sitting on the edge of her cot finding that I just couldn't wait for her to take off another article as I downed another swig of whatever she was serving me. My god, she must be a skilled fighter. If I was having troubles keeping myself away, I can only imagine the men she has had to fight away. Then again, maybe she chooses not to fight. I have met her crew and I'm pretty sure she has let them all take turns with her. It took her a long time for her to undress because she was busy toying with me as she went, but she definitely had a turn with me. For a sailor she had a perfect body, the kind my teenage self envied; a sentiment shared by many other young girls. Hell, every time I see her I won't be able to help but picture her naked. This is going to be a long trip.

I was drunk and silly when she sprung her naked flesh on top of me. So drunk I just remember seeing the blur of her flesh and a spinning room. I can remember her touch though. I remember it so perfectly that it shocks me. She undressed me like I was a slack-limbed ragdoll. It felt so professional, like an experienced nurse. Her fingers were warm as they pushed into my skin and slid up my shirt. I particularly remember them pressing into my ribs and up the middle of my back as she undone my bra. Funny, I never felt my clothes leave my body. I never noticed the fabric of my pants or panties fleeing me. Perhaps, I could have been naked before all this and I just thought she had undressed me.

Other parts of her body explored me. I could make them out just by their touch alone. Her breasts bouncing up along my tummy until they playfully collided with mine. Her tickling nipples running around my areolas with mine repeating the same circling dance like it was giving chase. Her stomach was firm and I can remember the heaving of her diaphragm pushing her abs into my weaker and less defined self. She was strong; working sails and hauling ropes and anchors indeed chiseled her into a fine seafarer. I could smell the sea breeze and ocean brine on her body. I could taste the saltiness of great depths upon her skin. There was an air of mystery to her flavor, something that belonged to the deepest darkest reaches of the sea. She was an exciting mystery to explore that drunken night, but I couldn't help but feel there were things in the deep maybe best left alone. Yet, how was I to know she was a kraken? I saw her in the water and she seduced me and now her arms were all over me, pulling me close to her in her captain's chamber. She squiggled fingers between my breasts and then somehow even her toes got involved. She floundered all over me and kept telling me I was a fine catch that any fisherman would want. "Good thing I'm more of a pirate," I remember her saying "Me stealing you away makes for a much more interesting yarn to spin."

When her fingers went up inside me I almost thought she was putting a squid between my woman bits. She worked each finger in tandem with the others. She got her whole hand up inside me wriggling, and then, even her wrist like a fish went for a naughty swim. I squirted like a fountains and she cried, "Thar she blows!"

She wouldn't relent on me. She wanted to sail deeper into my chasm even after putting so many of her fingers inside me. She added her face to the mix. I looked down to see her long curly red hair flowing out from between my legs and nothing else. She had such long well kept hair for a sailor; it reached all the way to her ass. I loved how it shook as she suckled me relentlessly. She had done this before. Oh, what trouble I was in for having such a bisexual partner who had mastered getting what she wanted. I almost convinced myself then and there that no man could ever be good enough to please me. I swear she tried to swim up inside me. I wanted to grab her by the hair but I could not bring myself to do such a thing. It was too sacred a thing for me to ruin. Touching this woman in any way was taboo. Just having her force herself on me made me feel special enough. So I left my hands to squeeze my own tits and nipples. It was the best thing I could come up with as my captain made me cum again and again.

She was having too much fun with me. I swear she touched me with every part of her body. When I thought I was getting sober enough for everything to stop spinning, she would shoot me up with another shot of gin. I know that at least twice she had me drink from her private chamber between her legs. Then there was the little channel she poured down the middle of her breast and made me catch as it as it hit the little island mound next to her clitoris; making me suck it out of the bright red, yet well trimmed bushes that grew there. I had to thank her many times, even after this night was done with, for letting me touch her in such a sexual way. Her body added the tastes of the sea to my favorite juniper flavored drink. It was an interesting combination. Her flavor wasn't fishy. Her womanhood the same taste as her skin, only stronger, and with a dark foreboding flavor. The same foreboding flavor of dark depths with sleeping beasts guarding the cargo of foolish sailors who sailed where they aught not go. I couldn't help feel that I was one of those sailors, but my sails are being blown by a strong northbound wind and there is adventure to be had. I couldn't back out, not in the face of my strong willed captain. What kind of sailor would that make me?

Of course, she could be the pirate she teasingly claimed to be and is shanghaiing me. I hope I made a good impression so that she doesn't sell me. I'm ashamed because I don't want to admit I had an awfully good time with her that evening. I don't see myself as a lesbian or as a bisexual. Yet, the funny thing is with her, I think I would do it again. In fact, I hopefully anticipate another round. She owes me that much for forcing me on this silly journey. I may have always been interested in the tall-tale of Shipwreck Island, I just never expected to find someone crazy enough to try and take me to it, especially in this manner.

Now I am stuck on her boat. My captain, for that is what she is now, is as flamboyant as her striking red hair and vibrant persona. She tricked me onto her boat and now we are sailing north toward Cabot Strait. I still can't believe it. I have lain with another woman and I should be ashamed, embarrassed, I don't know. Yet, if that is how the first part of this adventure is going to go then it is off to a wondrous start.

Now about the other crew: My captain has five others help handle this ship. Something I have probably said before. They are an all male caste, and I am pretty sure they were listening in on their captain enjoying her spoils and riches; they all give me a look and a smile that gives them away. That and I am pretty sure they wonder if they can have a share of the booty. Boy are they an interesting bunch. If I have said anything that the captain has a forbidden air about her, these five sure look it.

They all have funny names too. The first is one who calls himself Lobs, and he is actually the most normal of the bunch. He looks like a typical sailor; heavy on the muscles, tattoos and the scars. His body shows he has been in a fare share of fights, but his temperament would never let you believe it.

I don't think he would want to fight Dage (Dah-geh), a big South African with a wide tooth grin. The man is absolutely a giant with broad shoulders and a big barrel chest. I think he could swing the anchor like an ax if he so wanted to. He doesn't talk much, I think because he doesn't speak much English, but he sure does like to smile. Oh, and the man loves to eat his weight in bacon and biscuits.

Next is Walker. He is the, ah, creepy one. I think I just haven't gotten over his looks. He is big in a somewhat pudgy and gelatinous sort of way, and he has a much more unkempt look about his attire. Usually such the sorts of the sea have grizzly beards too, but not Walker. I think he must have been in a fire because his bald head completely lacks hair of any sort, even eyebrows. His big eyes bulge all the time as though he has trouble closing them. He also has a weird walk, and swings his arms in a flopping motion that is so unnatural that it is almost like they have no bones. I dare not ask what is wrong with him, but he pulls he weight and helps man this ship just as good if not better than Lobs or Dage combined.

Finally, there is Jellewyn and Tuck. One is the cook, the other is a jack-of-all-trades. The two, I have been told always come and go together. Anytime I see one, I see the other; it's almost uncanny. They are both rather mysterious and possibly could be brothers, but nobody is willing to say. The captain has told me that one is former royalty and the other is his servant. Beyond that I have no clue which is which, but it seems they like it that way.

I don't know where we are exactly, but I think we are along the northern reaches of Nova Scotia's coast. This trip is taking unusually long if we are actually going to Cabot Straits. That isn't completely not out of fault of our own meanderings; this ship and its crew are in no particular hurry. The weather is great for sailing and the air is warm, or as warm as a northern spring climate will allow.  Our ship, the 'Erotica Prodigium,' is well stocked with provisions and we heartily eat, drink and sleep our lazy adventure along in a slow drift.

Unfortunately, I have yet, to have another night with my captain like the first. I tease her, showing her that I am willing to go again. She teases me back, but as of yet, that is all that has come of it. She won't even let me back into her chambers, even just to visit. She toys with me playfully with secrets. The other crew teases me as well, and though I have gotten along with them just fine, I am not ready for the peculiar oddities which they all seem to have. Thus I keep my drinking habits a bit more conservative than it was at the tavern. Still, I have no regrets about my first female companion or the merry journey she is taking me on.

* * *

We had been drifting out on open seas when my captain spoke of a temporary detour. She spoke something about personal business and someone she needed to meet. You can imagine my concern as we spent a day just drifting about. Upon the morning a small storm threatened us. Yet, even though our vessel rocked violently for most of that day, neither my captain, nor her crew seemed at all distressed. They continued to sing and drink merrily even while busy at work manning sails. I was of little help for I am not an experienced sailor; only ever serving as a passenger at my times at sea. It did not help my nerves that my crew was so recklessly riding out the storm. When I recognized the island in the distance through flashes of lightning and the beacon of its lighthouse, I became doubly worried. It wasn't the fabled shipwreck island, but it was still an island with an ill report of having many just the same. Nicknamed the 'Graveyard of the Atlantic,' Sable Island could easily be the candidate for the fable. It was not an island made primarily of wrecked ships against a rocky knoll. This island was instead a long sandbar that sits amazingly far out to sea. It was protected habitat that required special permission to visit, but I doubt due to its isolated remoteness any authority would catch our presence here.

I nervously joked with my captain if this was where she meant to take me. I had been there many times before studying its history and the natural beauty within its herd of feral horses brought to the island in the late eighteenth century. My red haired lover replied through the battering of waves and the cold ocean sprays that there was another reason for our presence here. I only hoped at the time it was worth the danger she was putting us in, even if I was the only one concerned about it.

We spent two days anchored on the islands protected side, away from the more turbulent waters. The storm quieted down for the duration of our visit. It lingered always all around us with dark clouds and the infrequent stroke of lightning, yet, our ship rocked comfortably undisturbed as we waited for our captain to return. I asked about why we were here and always got the same response that our captain was meeting an old acquaintance. The only souls who occupied this island was a handful of Canadian parks service-persons whom visitors needed the permission to come ashore, but we never attempted to contact anyone from the ships onboard radio with our approach.

Until she returned we could only wait watching the dark clouds roil all around the island like a menacing omen. Lobs caught halibut on the line and Jellewyn cooked them up very nicely. I was amazed at the stock of spices and wines still brimming in the small schooner's stores even after all that we had consumed in our meandering passage. I also learned that Dage was an excellent swimmer. Though how he could manage the cold and choppy waters surrounding us was beyond me, for it would surely put a person of average fortitude into a deathly shock. The more I came to know my strange compatriots, the more I came to realize they were not of any average sort with each having their own particularities that seemed to give them an otherworldliness. Their salty smells and strange swagger made me constantly remember the taste of my captain that night in her chambers. Her taste had the deepest mysteries of the sea entangled in her skin and on the moist button of her clitoris. Over the course of the two days I came to ascertain that indeed my captain had felt the pleasure of her crew inside herself. I could only imagine my vibrant red haired lover taking these men. They were all sturdy, muscular giants who each must have wielded large slippery sea serpents from the bulges they tried to conceal in their trousers. This ship was a pleasure ship of hedonistic leisure that drifted aimlessly in the cold sea. Without my presence my captain must have spent many a night enjoying the company of her companions with all the other amenities that this ship seemed to hold in abundance.

I was finding that I was enjoying their company more and more; even the bizarre looking Walker, who was a kind and thought provocative person. I could sense their intentions though they would not admit it, and they held themselves reserved. If it was not for their 'giving' captain I don't think they would be as controlling of their deviant desires, and I would be in far more hostile waters. It made me wonder about my captain's motivations. She was a stunning beauty that any man would desire. Why then does she stay on this boat with this rugged band of misfits? Then again, those meaty bulges in their trousers have to be one good reason for it.

It was by the second night anchored near those sandy shores that the otherworldliness of my journey truly sprouted from its tiny beginnings. I had been watching the herd of feral horses as a means to entertain myself as we sat with little to do but fish, play chess, and do a little more excess drinking. The feral herd that claims the sandy island are a unique and beautiful breed. Their manes and tails have evolved to reflect the color of the sand it seems. As they run and play it almost looks like the sand has been molded into the shape of horses being whipped about by the sea's breeze.

Yet, one horse stood out amongst the rest; a stallion who was much larger and much darker than the others. His main and coat reflecting the colors of the stormy skies and clouds that continued to persist forever around us. He also did not play or mingle with the others, choosing instead to watching them from afar on some sandy knoll, and sometimes us if I am not mistaken. He is indeed the most unique, most powerful and most stunning creature I have ever seen. I do not believe he belongs here. In fact, after what I saw at the end of the second night I am certain of it.

It was a brilliantly eerie night. The storm clouds were still ever persistently surrounding us in a frightful way, and yet, they did not bother us. Lightning flashed all around on the horizon. It was so bright that I could make out the waves, the island and all things in-between without much effort. I could make out the herds of sable steeds running about. They would come into view with a flash and then sink back into darkness as galloping shadowed specs on the islands outline. At first I could not make out the spectacularly unique stallion who stood out well above all the rest. That is until I saw a star stand out brightly amongst an opening in the clouds; at least that is what I thought it was. The star was moving, a shooting star perhaps, only if it wasn't moving in the wrong direction. The harder I looked at it the more I was certain it had to be a star even though everything was wrong about it. Flashes of lightning came, and I saw that it was not moving behind the clouds but in front of them. It was not my eyes deceiving me, but I questioned my mental stability anyway for liquor was a main commodity aboard this vessel and no doubt there may have been a little bit too much wormwood in some.

By god, I swear it was that stallion from before. His was running across the sky with a coat and mane reflecting the stormy skies more than ever before. Stars twinkled brightly in his glowing coat like so many constellations, and lightning arced through him like a coil. Worst of all, I swear riding him was my red haired captain. After our wild night in her chambers I could pick out those wonderful naked curves anywhere. She was the Lady Godiva of the sky and storms. Her long red hair trailed behind her like a torch. The lightning made her skin glow even more vibrantly than I had ever seen. Every curve, every dimple and the magnificent peaks of aroused nipples appeared more glories than when I first saw them in her chambers.

Dreaming or not, I was touching myself with one hand and taking another swig of hard liqueur with the other. What a fantastic visage of dark mystery and forbidden delights. I could almost see myself riding with her. My naked flesh pressed tightly against her backside, or hers to mine, as we let our long hair stream behind us. Our loins gripping bare-back into that unique beast who took us on our journey to places unknown and unseen. My nipples grew so hard at that thought of getting ourselves lost in mystic lands where we could play naked in their gardens. It is where we would roll naked in the scented flowers as we cover ourselves in each others tender embrace; riding each other like we would ride that stead of lightning and stars. Yes, too much wormwood, that's the only explanation for this vision. Nonetheless, I was excited.

I tried to keep my excitement to myself. The boys were below deck, probably playing cards or other some such nonsense. Usually at least one or two would be up above. It almost felt that I was left intentionally alone to witness the great event. Still, I was very reserved, or tried to be, just in case any of the others suddenly came up on board and saw me with my panties around my ankles and my fingers scrubbing my deck. Who knows what kind of show that would start, and then I would wake up with even more surprises than when my captain snuck me aboard. Besides, they must know about this, they are her crew. If so what does that make of them? I kept my panties on and watched out carefully for them as I pleasured myself to the sights. Though it may not have been wise, I also kept on drinking so as to give my self-excuses a better credence for what I thought myself to be seeing.

Jellewyn and Tuck came up and nearly caught me during one muffled moan as I worked myself in secret. They are quiet ones when they want to be, and they were just as quiet when he left me to my peace. Did he not see the beautiful blaze in the sky? Surely, they must know something, for Jellewyn was smiling in the shadows.

* * *

We are off again for adventure. I cannot say that my captain returned to steer our vessel. I had passed out drunk and must have slept a day. This hangover did not go as smoothly as the one after my midnight romp in my captain's chambers; it left me in a sour state for most a day. Jellewyn gave me his remedy for such a hangover, smiling all the way. I don't know if he was smiling cause he knew my secret or just because I was a worse wreck for taking his wretched medicine. Nonetheless, he provided good company whilst I recovered.

"The fog is rolling in." he told me in his cryptic manner. "It won't be long before we find that place you're looking for. We will be sailing straight into its deeps."

I asked him if he had really been to this island, it wasn't the first time I had asked this question, but it was this time he gave me an honest answer. "Aye, it is a real place, though it does not fit the description that you were given. Yes, many ships have disappeared there, but it is not a place of death. It's just one of many places to discover if you're seeking for a certain kind of escape."

I didn't know what he meant. I have always been interested in legends and myths, and the adventures of finding them. I made it a point to make a living at it in a scholarly way. He asked me why that was, and then proceeded with, "You found the captain to be such an adventure didn't you? All those seeking the things you do always have. Don't worry we all did too. Just remember that when you find a thing you be looking for you can't un-find it. That is why it's called Shipwreck Island."

 It was shortly after that when I was better able to stand on sober legs that I learned an interesting and frightful truth. We had set sail without the captain, and I was alone with this crew of misfits.

* * *

It was nightfall when Jellewyn motioned for me to come up on deck. When I went above I had difficulty finding him or any of the other crew. The fog was unbelievably dense, so much so, that I could barely make out my own hand in front of me. Shadowy outlines were all that I could see of the ship's mast and railings, and it gave them an otherworldly appearance. Even the crew's silhouettes in the haze looked like sea monsters swimming in the deep. Lobs with his strong upper and bent back looked like a giant upright lobster for which he was seemingly half named after. The silhouettes of his giant forearms even looked like pinchers in the smoke. Walker was always weird and jelly like in the way he moved. His foggy phantom now enhanced him with stretching shadows that almost looked like tentacles.

The density of the fog made me claustrophobic. The water was calm; I heard it quietly lapping at the side of the ship as it gently rocked us. Still, fog like this has caused many a ship to run aground, especially if any island was nearby. I peered carefully over the bow of the ship for the possibility of seeing even the faintest of lights from the beams of a lighthouse lamp. But as the fog lifted I came to find that was in vain. An alien breeze from even darker depths blew gently through my hair as it lifted the fog away. A new darkness replaced the old. I couldn't see the stars or sky. Above us was the ceiling of a giant sea cavern. In the dark, one could barely make out the long stalactites that hung down like pikes. I was immediately told by Jellewyn that we were inside Shipwreck Island. I didn't know such a thing could exist. No sea cave could possibly be this big.

I asked how far it stretched; it should not go far if it was such a tiny island. Jellewyn smiled as he said, "The island is just the entrance. We need to go further before we enter the real chambers of the deep."

The breeze pushed against us, but the ship sailed on forward. As I looked into its inky depths and felt the tilt of the ship and realized we were sailing downwards on a slope. I could not fathom how that could be.

"Shall we sail on, or shall we heave to?" I was asked by the crew.

What a question to ask. I was terrified, for if this truly was the mythic island, then I did not want to be part of its terrible reputation. Nonetheless, I never heard or imagined that a cave leading into depths of mystery could exist for me to explore. The prospect of not going forward and losing this chance of discovery would be such waste of a trip.

"Walker will be first to take the helm," Jellewyn ordered, as he was now the replacement captain of the 'Erotica Prodigium.' "Take care to watch out for white water, we do not want to hit a submerged rock."

Faster we seemed to sail, and more sharply did our vessel tilt down this unnatural sloping cave. I peered fearfully excited into the dark, looking out for both danger and new discovery. Yet, all I could see was darkness and the steady flowing waters that eased us along into the deep.

That evening the forecastle was deserted and we all crowded in the narrow room of my cabin. I was nervous that nobody was currently at the helm. Nonetheless, I was told the ship was in good hands. I only hoped Walker knows these waters well enough to say that like he did.

They soon worked me into a pleasant mood as Jellewyn handed out two demijohns of excellent rum to make an excellent bowl of punch. I was careful to partake; more so as the mood got merrier with Lobs and Dage getting rosy in the cheeks. They all began to tell stories of their adventures at sea, and then it finally happened. Jellewyn turned to me and asked me about my first time with the captain. Personally, I was surprised none had asked me sooner; I knew they all surely must know that I touched all my naked flesh against that scarlet haired beast.

I blushed. In such tight quarters with so many rosy cheeked men that I had come to call my sailor buddies, talking about ones new sexual adventures seemed dangerous. However, they had been kind and courteous, sharing both their stories and their rum. They had all the opportunity to take me if they wanted, and yet, here we were. If there ever was a time where I was opt for more merriment than I bargained for, it would be now on this ship sailing into the unknown with a group of strange men. Besides, they still were packing heat in each of those pants, and I was willing to see more sights on this already crazy adventure. If I was to become lost at sea, at least let me go with a smile.

So I told them everything; every little detail that I could remember. I told them about how radiant a beauty she was as she slowly took off her clothes and posed to me, but they already knew that. I told how she wrapped her body around me as she forced me to do the same. How her hands and her feet touched me, rubbing every facet of my intoxicated body.

They all listened intently as my descriptions rose from meager beginnings of two women admiring one another's. My story started erotic enough with descriptions of touch, taste and smells. Slowly I got excited, letting the scene of that passionate night flow out of me into descriptive pornography. I graphically humored them with how deep she explored me with her fingers, and how she let me explore her in turn. She wouldn't let me be anything but forceful. I did not tell them that they must have had their big fat cocks explore her, because I could fit so much of my hand deep inside of her. It was tempting to get them involved in my story. It would have been so easy to tease them all in the confines of my small cabin. But no, I stuck to my rich endeavor of my adventures with just the captain.

Dage smiled as he always does and Lobs raised a toast to the raunchy climax of my tale. I tried desperately to get them to share their tales, for they surely must have more than a few. Jellewyn just winked and said, "That time will come in due. However, keep up with your story. It's not often our captain gets to play with another lass. It brings a good image to the mind of a lonely sailor, and will be a nice memento to remember ye by when we part ways."

I thought they would make a move on me, but all of them behaved. I guess it was a gentlemen thing to do, but at that time there was a part of me that secretly wished they had done otherwise. If I had known then what I know now... But that is beside the point. At that time it was fun to be the story weaver of erotic romance between a pirate captain and her captured prize. I felt most at home with them sharing my story of high sea adventure with those whom had become my compatriots. So I did not spare a detail as I filled their ears with the spoils.

I told them how she tasted like forbidden secrets of the deep as my tongue tickled her labia. All the men had to agree on that one, shaking their heads to confirm my suspicions. It made me again remember that night at Sable Island when I saw her race across the stormy sky. I paused; I so wanted to ask them more about that. Even though I was so carefree and comfortable in telling my adventures, there was something taboo about discussing our captain. The story I told was my own; my experiences and my pleasure. I could only hint at her actions, even though my compatriots were so familiar with her and her body. The more I talked about her the more I understood I knew nothing about her.

I had been her naked plaything, her captured prize, and she was gorgeous beyond all reason for what a woman should be. I was graced by the senses of sight, touch and taste of her body. She shared it with me so generously, and yet, she was the one in control the whole time - taking me for a ride.

Walker took his share of punch in a bottle, picked up his lantern and bade us good night once he was certain that I had nothing left to tell. He headed back to the helm. I realized that I had talked about my adventure for over two hours, expressing my amazement that our little vessel had not run into trouble, even if we were in such a large cave. The crew just snickered and Lobs made a comment that we had long cleared all the dangers of the cave.

I thought about heading topside, in fact, I really wanted to, but the punch and the thoughts of my story brought me to slump in my cot in restful contemplation. Without realizing it, I was dreaming again of my naked adventure on the north seas with my red haired master. I relived that night as I had done many nights since. Yet, this time was more vivid than ever. I think me telling it to those eager men sprouted a new life to it. I saw in their smiling expressions and hearty laughter a hint of an inside joke that I was ignorant to see. In this dream more questions were revealed. I was in her chambers just as I have told. She ravished me with all her naked body so beautiful that it could not be naturally of this world. The more I stared at it as she kissed me, touched me and made me cum; the more I saw that creature that shot across the sky naked and blazing. Slowly she shed her skin like she shed her clothes. Underneath that red haired blaze of hair and succulent skin was another being just as exotic. Like that steed she rode she had a body made from the sky, the stars and the storms. The silhouette of her curves told me she was still my captain, but that forbidden flavor of her new touch, taste and fragrance told me something else. She was dangerous; how or why I didn't know. Perhaps, it was just her alien nature touching on mine. I didn't know what to think or feel, and so I recoiled.

* * *

Before the noise awakened me, I was being embraced by the phantom of my captain transformed into some creature of shadow and storms. He came straight out of her being as though her body was a portal; that lone stallion so different from the others on Sable Island. It seemed she was one in the same with this other creature of the night. She rode it and merged with it as it came to stare at me with burning eyes in my dream. It smiled at me as he approached, and I quickly realized it wanted to merge with me as well. I could see him produce his mighty sexual appendage that was as mighty as a horses. It was a taboo dream and I fought against him. He, she, it; it was hard to say, moved over top of me like an animal wanting to breed. I could still make out my captains wonderful curves, but they became indistinguishable to the cosmic inkiness of the beasts frame as they two shapes came together. In my captain's chamber I had no place to run, and then just before the creature plunged himself into me with his monstrous appendage - I awoke.

It took me a long while in the dark of my cabin to understand that something was going on. I was still woozy and slightly drunk. I fumbled clumsily to get some light, but the image of the dream, and that monstrous cock penetrating me delayed me.

It sounded like the whole crew was working up above. Things were moving and shuffling about with muffled voices crying out orders and commands. I checked my watch and it was still very late. I immediately assumed a problem had come about. The ship felt smooth as she sailed but that could soon change, and I raced to get on deck to see what was the matter.

Yet, as soon as I got onto deck everything was calm. We were still sailing along at an easy pace with lantern light burning brightly; illuminating the squat shape of Walker's bottle still half full with punch.

But he was not at the helm, nor was anyone else about deck.

Everything was eerie, and it was quickly apparent why. We were in a vast underground gulf. I could no longer see the walls of the cave; only great stone pillars that held up the vast roof which covered us in this vast underground sea.

Nothing like this should exist or could exist. The water was calm like the surface of a still lake, yet there was no shore in sight. I could see deep into the waters that lapped silently at our lonely vessel. Hundreds of feet down below the depths were transparent as glass. Below the ship bright phosphorus lights lit up the alleys of a most alien city. I had to be still dreaming, and yet somehow, I knew that I was not. There is no way to describe that city, other than that is what it was underneath that alien sea. I could see things moving to and fro within its strange streets. They were not mermaids or mermen, though many had the shapes that could define them as such; of this world they surely could not have been.

It was then that I heard the noises again, the same ones from my cabin room. From on deck it had a different quality and tone. It sounded like Walker, except with an even more pronounced wet, gurgling sound which his voice naturally seemed to posses. It came from near the bow. The blinding sea filled with deep mysteries must have distracted me from witnessing this. Otherwise there should have been no way for me to miss the writhing mass upon the bow. The moans and gurgles made me think Walker was in trouble. Upon inspection, it was Walker who was the tendril mass of kraken tentacles and not its helpless victim.

I don't know how I could recognize it as being Walker, but somehow I knew. Perhaps, it had always been his strange appearance and his wobbly and squishy limbs; now they could indeed bend and slither in a way that made since to his being. He was some sort of giant octopus like creature flailing and slithering about with many appendages. All of them being dominated and subdued by her, the captain!

She was back, she was naked, and she was fucking Walker. She sat in the middle of his writhing body. His slimy tentacles rolling all up and down her beautiful curves to moisten them with sea foam. She was dominating him even though he was the monster. He moaned and gurgled more inhumanly as she let him explore her with his many appendages, but one tendril in particular was being forced by her to go deep inside her body. Now I know why it had such a deep and forbidden flavor of the deep. That red hair muff of hers had let, nay forced, things beyond nature to fill her with its seed. She was relentless. Walker's, (or the creature that had once been him), long phallic appendage was more than any normal woman could take. Its power and prehensile nature should have been able to do whatever he wanted. Yet, the captain was now at the helm, and she had all the power over him, and it made me fear her most of all.

I remember her riding the wind and storms. She was a commanding and mighty presence on that night as well. I remember when she locked me in her chambers. I was her prize and her possession. She did what she willed upon my body. Though she was generous, she was not gentle. She wanted me to taste her, touch her, and be corrupted by the taint of her flesh. I understood everything as I watched her with poor, helpless Walker. He was her slave. The better question was if he was a monster domesticated by this sea witch, or was he once a man transformed into this thing that now helplessly fulfilled the captain's lusty desires.

I was mesmerized. My god, she was a vibrant creature in the stark, menacing green glow of the phosphorus sea. The red of her hair still bright like fire making her skin glitter with salt and sea water under its glow. Walker's kraken appendages caused her body to stretch and squish. His suction cups on each of his tentacles grabbing her and then letting go with little popping sounds that left temporary discolored rings all across her breasts, stomach and sides. Though it seemed so sensual Walker was just flailing about underneath her like a creature dragged from the sea.

She smiled and laughed wickedly over her prize. With both hands she forced his phallic appendage deeper and deeper inside. His prehensile phallic tentacle bulged and roiled as it oozed its way between the suckling lips of her pussy, making her fiery muff heave-ho. Liquids squirted out between her forced shoving, and it delighted her. I couldn't tell if the fluids were the naturally dripping ichor of Walker's new slippery body, or if it was the captain's own fluids produced through orgasm.

I don't know if they even noticed me, and I don't know what I was doing with myself. I want to believe I was still dreaming, but I know that wasn't true. At that moment all my focus was on what I beheld. I don't know if I gasped or said a word. I don't know anything other than I watched. I don't even know how I felt about it, then or now. I was entranced.

My captain had bewitched me that night in the tavern. A creature of forbidden beauty who made me do things I never thought I would do, and then whisking me away to the depths of which no man or woman has traveled. If I haven't said it, I didn't have any regrets, nor did have any ill will towards her. Like Walker, now squirming on the deck of the ship, I too had felt wonderful under her power. Her hands and tongue did things to me that no man could, and her radiant beauty added such a sight to enjoy while she did it all to me.

What have I gotten myself into?

Of course this was all thrust upon me, so it is not entirely my fault. Somehow I interrupted her. I don't know what I did, I wasn't paying attention. I just remember Walker looking at me with giant round eyes and in a gurgled voice he told me to run!

His command struck a primal nerve. It made me realize how crazy this all was. Walker was nothing now but a giant Octopus with only a glimmering resemblance in the face of the man I had sailed with these past days. What the hell was he? Where the hell was I? Questions that I should have been asking screamed at my soul here and now with that one command. Suddenly I was scared out of my wits like an animal facing the unknown. I stumbled and fell as I let my instincts try to guide me to safety. Yet, where was I to go?

I looked at the lifeboats but the glowing sea frightened me. I could see more things swimming deep in that otherworldly city; surely they noticed our boat hanging above them. The feeling of vulnerability was overwhelming as it was, to sit in it with only a tiny raft was unbearable to imagine.

My fears were verified in a truly unexpected way. Attached to the ship, crawling out of the water like a spider was a massive crustaceous thing. From the markings on his shell and the multitude of tattoos I recognized him as Lobs. He had truly become a lobster which was crawling up the side of the ship. Unlike Walker, there was little to distinguish him beyond the markings of his shell. Even his mannerisms and behavior had lost their humanity. He came at me chittering in a high pitch as his bulging forearms; ones I had humored looked like Popeye's, swung at me snapping. They were now claws; snapping, terrifying claws that snagged my shirt and tore it away.

I fell backwards on to the deck watching in fear as this creature I had once known for his fishing skills and quiet companionship climb over the railing. He was just a mess of mandibles and chitin now: A monster of the deep that only old seafarers would dream up and tell adventures with. I am no experienced sailor, not enough for this. He came after me screeching. I tried to understand it but its expressions were just to alien.

He then began to snip off more of my clothes. Out of all the times he could have had me he chose now. I don't think he had any control over himself. He wasn't really Lobs anymore. Yet, I don't know why he intended do these things with me here and now. That I would find that out later when I managed to fight him off and make it below deck to relative safety.

It was here that I met with the rest of the crew, or what had become of them. Jellewyn and Tuck were keeping Dage locked in the captain's chamber telling me he had transformed and was not safe for me to get near. Yet, when I looked at their faces, they looked no less better than Lobs or Walker. Both were in the throws of transformation; gaining gills and a fishy disposition. One of Tuck's eyes bulged grotesquely from his head, and a giant frilled dorsal fin was popping out of his back.

I shrieked, it was only natural; a giant lobster had already partially undressed me. They caught me before I could make it to my room. Jellewyn had a fight on his hands before he could calm me enough to attempt to explain to me what was happening. He had Tuck wait outside as he held me down and got me to listen to this horror story.

 That leads us to my current state. I write this as I wait. I listen to Dage roar and bash against the captain's chamber door as he tries to get out. Now I know everything. I now know why that sailor back at the Mermaid's Smile Tavern fled like he did, leaving his Gin and money behind. I know why this is Shipwreck Island. My captain is a pirate after all; a pirate and a witch. This is her cove and I am her prize, and so were the other members of her crew. All of them: Jellewyn, Tuck, Dage and all the rest were cursed to serve her. No longer human, this is their home now.

Jellewyn told me all of this before leaving me here in my chamber. He told me I could try to hold out for as long as I can, but it would only be a matter of time. She would have me just like she had all of them. I was doomed the moment I took to her chamber. They all now take on cursed forms that she finds pleasing. Apparently she is a slutty sea witch who can't be satisfied by regular men. So she changes them into more bestial and monstrous forms; sex crazed beasts that desire only to satisfy her. Then again she herself may never have been human either.

She wants me next. I don't know why she chose me but she did. Jellewyn said she likes to bring other woman here too. To watch them play with her creations. She likes to watch innocent woman be defiled by things not of this earth until they succumb. That is why they haven't touched me. The crew was under orders. They had to wait until the curse took over their bodies once again, and then they would have at me...and she will watch.

There is no escape. I don't even know how to work a ship, let alone do so by myself. With the others waiting for me...I can hear Jellewyn and Tuck inhuman gurgles as they transform into monsters. I can hear the captain's wicked laugh and moaning commands as she fucks one of them just above me.

And then there is Dage. He has finally come to my door and he knows that I am trapped here. It won't be long now. I wonder what kind of monster he has become. With his giant smiling grin I can only imagine. It's funny to think that this is the way I'll go; I guess it's better than other ways. Well I guess I will take a final toast with some left-over punch. Here is to Jellewyn, and to Shipwreck Island. Like he said, once found it cannot be unfound....

Part II

* * *

This is the second chunk of the journal torn away from the rest. It is written in a different pen that takes a more forbidden twist. It was recorded by the observer to the fate of this unknown woman with the golden hair whom was found on the banks of the river. It is wild and shocking, so much so that the investigators had to quickly hide it. They had seen things like this before in the valley under Sin Mountain, but never tales from the sea. "Best it be forgotten," they said, "for the world is not ready for such things".

 * * *

I have found my new playthings journal. I shall finish it for her as I watch my boys take her. She will thank me later for recording this moment - I know I will. Unfortunately, I did not catch the beginning of her ordeal. I was busy attending to my own delights up on deck. I'm afraid poor Walker is spent, so she may be unable to play with him this first night. Lobs also was occupied, which led to me unable to get to the first bits when Dage knocked down her cabin door. I can only imagine what he first did to her, though I bet it started with the basics. My men may be cursed into monsters, but they still are courteous and generous creatures, I have made sure of that.

Dage with his wide grin, it was only fitting he became a shark. A powerful great white shark like they have around the southern tip of Africa. Don't blame me, it was the waters of my enchanted home that chose his form. The magic combined all the great aspects of his big manly self with the ferocity of great sea beast: A wereshark, if you need a name for such a thing. In this form his bears the head of that sea beast, grinning maw and all. A dorsal fin sprouts from his back, and he wields two cocks instead of one. When I finally was able to see my new prize, Dage was already fast at work putting both inside of her. I am sorry to miss out on his foreplay, but I can still describe it, nonetheless, from experiences I know.

As a shark he may have rows of nasty teeth, but Dage is a gentle soul who knows how to handle his dangerous strength, even long before I took him as a pet. He learned quickly how to surgically remove my panties with only his tongue. His mouth is big and wide enough to allow the jagged teeth to loom over your abdomen dangerously, but all you can see is his torpedo shaped snout and predatory eyes staring you down. I bet it terrified my new plaything right out of her wits. Yet, even if she squirmed there is not a tooth mark on her that I can see. Yes, my Dage is very good. All you can feel is his tongue working and licking as he smiles at you. It's much like Walker's tentacles but without the suckers. The girth of that tongue is so fat and plump. How wonderful it is as he pushes it deep inside of you. It undulates and boils like no other part of the body can.

Sometimes I wonder what is better, the tongue or the cock. Oh, I don't think I will ever decide; especially since these wonderful cocks of all my boys, from the forests to the sea, come equipped with such artistic designs especially made for sexual pleasure. A tongue is great, but you can't admire and play with it the same way you can with a bizarre shaped and textured cock and balls. And Dage has himself a nice twin pair, shaped like torpedoes. Shark's make good torpedoes in every way. I know from the small droplets of blood that Dage's tongue pierced her deeply. He does that to get excited; driving himself into a frenzy. I will be lucky to get any fun out of her before he is done.

Now she is just trying to take both his cocks. I have many monsters in my collection that can take you simultaneously from both the top and bottom. She is stiff and tense, closing her eyes and tightly bracing herself as best she can on the cabin deck with fingernails scraping wood. She lies on her side as Dage's left torpedo penetrates one hole and his right bombards the other. His duel anatomy is horizontal placed rather than vertically like most with two cocks, hence the description for anyone minding to read this.

As for myself, I stand in the darkened entryway recording all that I can see. Alas, I reckon it will be a while before I get to have her. Woman last so much longer than these men. You would think that the powers of Yif-Phon would endow these creatures with more stamina. But I guess if you have had the pleasure to lay with a being from beyond the gates of known reality: A being beyond our understanding who came to earth long ago and for perverted reasons. After taking cock from beyond dimensions it is hard to be pleased by even the most creative designed monstrosities. However... I do find myself getting very excited watching virgin bodies take on these creations of great Yif-Phon. Watching sensibilities melt away when something as alien as Dage or Walker pleasure them so. Oh yes, we will fuck her brains out until she has no choice but to become forever like us.

Thinking about whoever finds this written testament just makes me giggle with delight. All over the world I leave these little gems. More and more shall find them and wonder what kind of fantasies await to claim them. They will one day change this world forever... (Nearly a full page follows that is left blank except a few scribbles and odd marks.)

Mmmm sorry, got distracted there. Dage was taking my prize nice and slowly. I had to watch him cum. She whimpered and whined the whole time. My beasts always produce such heavy loads, and he pumped her full in both those glorious holes of hers. I think she has never done anal before, that is why she whimpers so - And to do it while also having her first double penetration by such a monster.

Tsk Tsk. We had to loosen her up a bit. So I ordered Dage to be more forceful as I snuggled her into our crimes. Dage held her by both her thighs, folding her like a book up against him as he stood upright. He furiously fucked her wet pussy with the cock that formally abused it before. His other cock wailed about beating against her and the other like a wet club. That is when I got involved. There will be further breaks in the story when I do: Can't write and fuck at the same time...

... I tried to write and fuck, but that didn't turn out. That incoherent outburst is from me pleasuring myself after all of the hard work I just performed. It put my golden hair beauty to sleep, and I myself could also use the break. I haven't sweat this much in a long time. Don't worry I won't allow her to sleep much longer. She is a member of my crew now and I can't have her slacking off.

As for what happened, well, Dage was fucking her with a thrashing frenzy. His tail swished about and his massive form rocked the ship. He completely trashed this small chamber while holding her like he would a barrel up against his chest. I just had to get in there and touch that body of hers before it got too torn up. Yet, she was too busy being confined, and too busy gasping from the rigorous blows to her womb to notice me gently and carefully caress her like I did the first time we met.

Oh how she thought of me as an irresistible beauty. I do admit I turn heads, yet, she underestimates her own. It is why I had to have her. Never would I have thought to bring a woman aboard my carnal ship to serve as one of my crew.

Her body is so sweet and golden. She is like honey molded into human form. I am the cinnamon flavored rum that spiced her up! She came around to that hot night of feminine exploration so willingly. She was a stranger to it, yet, she needed no coercion or temptation. She took to it like we were meant to be. She was looking for an adventure, and for places of mystery. It was as if the stars had aligned.

I will be her captain; I will show her the seas and much, much more. This is only the beginning. This underground sea of phosphorus luminescence is not without its own islands filled with jungles, deserts, and other wild things even more exciting than what dwells underneath this glowing sea. I will enjoy showing and sharing them all just as I share them now. Holding you, touching you, feeling that monstrous shark cock penetrate you deeper and deeper as I whisper in your ear about these other treasures. All she did was moan with eyes tightly closed. She sees herself only as my prisoner. I don't think in her current state she will be able to accept anything else. It will take time for her to understand that she is not like the others I have caught. Dage, Walker, and all the rest are useful and wonderful playthings, but I will grow tired of them like I have with all the rest. I will soon replace them with a new crew. But you, my golden goddess, you shall be my partner, once I have taught you everything. We will sail forever into these wild lands and experience all the pleasures that our flesh and souls can have.

My hands are sticky from holding onto Dage's other messy cock, the one that had filled her anus with bubbling pudding. To keep it from thrashing about so much, I gave it a nice warm hand-job to complement his work; though I don't think it was anything like her tight ass. I had to get in a few licks around the sloppy tight lips of her pussy sucking on that monster cock and all its briny cream which had lathered up nicely from Dage's continuous hard motion. The golden hair heaving on her cute muff was like a soft pillow tapping my face as my tongue snuck in laps. Dage's cum has a heavy flavor, I don't think it mixes well with hers. We will have to find a new crewmen that better compliments her sweetness; something from the shores perhaps.

Nonetheless, I know that even with her eyes closed tightly against the pounding tide of Dage's hard cock, that she could feel me. She wanted me to touch her again ever since we took to sea. It was the first time that I had to fight so hard to resist. If I had not gone to Sable Island to relieve myself with him...

Yes, my dear, if you ever read this after I am through with you, do know that I would have lain with you again in my chamber so many times over. Your beauty, the way you touched me, they are all the reasons I had to leave. The temptation you stirred in me is something I have not felt in long time. I have spent too long dominating this realm. It is I who control the temptations of desire and flesh. Only he who dwells beyond the spaces of dreams, he who takes on many forms, including a great stead of night and storms, can control me with temptation. He is my only master, and so I had to return to him to ease my burden of not being with you for the rest of your journey here to this sunless sea where monsters dwell.

* * *

Our dance continues; my golden beauty is awake once again. I hope she rested enough after the monstrous climax she had with my shark friend. The other crewmen are fully transformed and are ready for their turns. My crew is now more under my control than ever as creatures of temptation. They were cursed for being unable to tame their own desires. Lust is funny thing. It is a wonderful joy of the senses, but one must be careful not to give into it so easily. That is why she is here, to pass the test. I told her of the conditions as Tuck held her in position. He, like Jellewyn, are no longer men, but fish-headed monsters. Their bodies glimmer in glittering scales moist with sea water. Their monstrous cocks are different from Dage's. They each only have one, hidden in cloacal sheaths between their legs. When it pops out, it will be an impressive thing of the prettiest sea blue. The saw-like ridges running along its underside will shock her, as will the other oddly shaped girth in its middle. It will create great pleasure inside her, and all of it from a merman who is more mer than man.

Usually these are the parts I enjoy the most with my captured prey, but not with her. She will climax many times to the pair taking turns upon her body. They are designed just for that. They will take care of her kindly. Yet, I want her to succeed in resisting lust's temptations which will only try to make her just their toy who wants more and more as she gives into the pleasure they give her. I want her to choose me over the carnal flesh of monsters. If she doesn't, she will become just like them, just another monster to feed more victims to satisfy Yif-Phon. I do not want to lose such a beauty. I want to teach her how to command, and show her even greater secrets that what she has seen.

I told her all of this just before Jellewyn plunged his monstrous appendage inside of her. The frills touched and stroked her g-spot as it entered. All she could do was try to claw into Tuck's slippery body. I know it is an intense sensation, nothing a mundane mortal man can produce. Jellewyn even tortures her with a slow and steady rhythm that makes the pleasure last.

Like with Dage, she closes her eyes trying to ride him out. She attempts to hold in her tiny squeaks and moans, but they still manage to escape her. Dammit, why does this one enthrall me? I should be recording every detail of her excruciating pleasure, her bondage to beasts, and be laughing at who ever finds these letters. Alas, I admit I am smitten and only wish to claim her for myself. No, she has to want me more than these things. She has to want me more than all the enchantment and sexual delights that they can muster.

I know it is strange to say this. They are inhuman monsters, terrifying in some aspects and magnificent in others. How would anyone want to be fucked by such things; most recoil at even the thought. Yet, those I bring to these worlds of enchantment always do have secret desires. They dream of escape from the confines of their reality. Such individuals easily fall prey to these monsters. Once they find that these monsters provide new experiences of the flesh, it becomes hard to turn them down. They are kind, they are gentle, they are rough and they are fantastically wild. They may have tentacles, fur, smooth warm scales; their cocks are studded, knotted, and spined and can produce a wonderful assortment of flavors. Soon you don't care what they are as long as they are intelligent and will love you in ways both new and sensual.

It is why both Jellewyn and Tuck take her slow and easy. They touch her, they caress her. They make her feel like she belongs to them. It is their magic; the magic of all them, even Dage; before he fucked her so furiously that she passed out. He took care of her. He touched her, nuzzled her, and eased her into this game. She hasn't fully accepted it. That takes more time. For the most part I can only watch and record. I intervene sometimes, but I cannot fully have her until they are done with her, and then she must choose me.

* * *

We sail on in this phosphorus sea of wet dreams. It has been three days that I have kept my pet captive. All my crew have taken their turns. Walker is now nothing more than a giant octopus. His tentacles with their little suction cups have cusped every bit of her golden skin. She has felt the wonderful slimy texture of his appendages curl and then unfold as they drape down her body to reach and violate her insides. It's amazing how many appendages an octopus can squeeze into one hole. It's even more amazing how it feels. I joined her on a few of these occasions. Walker has so many appendages to spare.

My golden goddess is exhausted. My monstrous crew grew more and more inhuman as we sail on in this place. They are driven by mad lust, and only I can control them. Thankfully, soon it will be over. I am sailing out of here, and when I do, my crew will be left behind. Hopefully it will just be us remaining. So far, she fights them with eyes closed tightly and teeth clenched as she tries to hold out. I know she has cum many times, the body can't lie. Her pussy even squirts from time to time from the delights of such wild monstrous cocks sloshing around inside of her. I have been around many devious delights. None can deny the pleasure they bring. Still, she tightly rides out this storm. I even fulfill her request for booze, and even under intoxication she holds out from going wild.

The others I have brought would have given in by now. They would be moaning and drooling with happy expressions on their faces. They would willingly suck and fuck themselves into a frenzy; losing control as they delighted in these new experiences of the flesh. With each new cock, with each load of cum they swallowed and filled their womb with, they would transform until they too were just another monster. Not that was a bad thing. I have enjoyed many monster parties on my ship and elsewhere. Then I leave for other lands, and they must stay here to indulge Yif-Phon. They are just another of his playthings and not his true lovers. Lovers have to take what they want, they have to be controlling and powerful. They cannot be a slave to lust, but its master. Yes, my golden beauty is doing well to control herself. We shall sail away together, and she will be my equal; my first mate of the 'Erotica Prodigium'!

I must be careful, it has been a long time since temptation has had this powerful a hold on me. I felt it ever since that first night I brought her into my chambers and touched her flesh. It has been a long time since I have felt magic like that, and a long time since I have found something so new and gorgeous that I couldn't help myself. It took everything for me to go slowly and ease her into my trap. Then I found myself rubbing my naked body all over hers. I needed to touch every bit of her skin with my own and roll around on top of her golden muff. My skin screamed at that touch, telling me you are a match for my soul.

It pains me to keep her chained here now below deck. I have neglected my duties to man this ship and she drifts aimlessly. The crew is too indulged in their monstrous desires, so it is up to me to sail her alone. Yet, I keep finding myself down here in-between the breeding sessions. The boys take care of her. They feed her, bathe her; they are not harsh to her. Only that their monstrous hunger means they fuck her frequently.

Walker is particularly feral today. He tried very hard to get her to moan out; to make her scream in constant ecstasy. He had stuffed one phallic tentacle into her. Its impossible malleability allowed him to shove it right into her womb. There he curled and twisted it, corkscrewed and unfurled it. The ways an octopus can spin and bend inside of you can produce sensations from the inside you never knew could be produced. Walker squealed and let loose wet inky cum, but it didn't produce the results he wanted. She would not scream and moan, in fact she barely squeaked. So in stuffed another phallus, and then another. Each appendage and arm, each arm a cock. The tentacles not filling her womb with inky cream went about lashing her body. The little suction cups pulling at her skin and nipples while bluish cum still oozed from the tips down her body in thin streams. It looked as though someone had poured droplets of blue all over her body. At least until Walker swirled it around with his vigorous motion of slathering her with his eight mighty appendages.

Oh, she was feeling pleasure, that I am certain. She came many times. That was something she could not control. Each of Walker's eight cocks made her cum at least once. She struggled even harder to maintain herself when he got frustrated and stuffed her with as many as he could fit. Finally he gave up and was spent for the day. He crawled off back into the sea until next time.

Before the others returned and had another round, I had a go with her. I cleaned her up as best I could. She looked up at me from her shackles...I think she might be the first to resent me. This strong will of hers excites me. I promise her it will soon be over. I tell her about Yif-Phon and all the gifts he will bestow upon her. I promise her godhood, for he admires strong wives. She watches me write all this down in her journal. She says nothing, only waits for me to finish.

I wish I could record what I'm about to do with her, but I believe I am going to have my hands full. Let me just say that I might see what happens if I unchain her...

* * *

I have done it. I have unchained her and gave her free reign; I even gave her command of the helm and told her to direct our course. I want to see what she does now after all that. Most now would have allowed themselves to be dragged to the bottom of this glowing sea. When you look below the phosphorus waters you can see all of those who have become monsters by Yif-Phon's will; an entire city created by eons of his lust. She took to the helm eagerly, though she refuses to talk to me. I see a determination in her eyes and I let her be. She is the captain now; I want to see where she takes me.

To my surprise, by this evening she has already found an island in this deep place. I peered to see what she found through the spy glass and found it to be an old stomping ground of mine. A little bubble of reality from a time long lost. It is a forested place with mighty mountains. One in particular stood out among the rest as a foreboding peak; I knew its secrets well.

So Yif-Phon has chosen her already. Why else would this island appear out of all other places? She sails to it immediately; a new pride and confidence fill her spirit as she stands at the helm. Her golden hair begins to whip about as a phantom wind praises her and pushes us toward the destination. Her radiant form is so glorious that I hail her as captain and to the adventures we will have...

...Here there is a pause in the journal. An interruption caused by lost pages perhaps? The investigator looking into this case could not figure out why it was only here at this part in the story, even after all the water damage from the river, that this bit was missing when all the rest of the journal had been acquired easily enough. It had been no trouble at all to put this story together, and the investigator joked that it was almost as though the story wanted to be told; all except now, at the end. What was taken as evidence did serve as a well persevered record of a fantastic story. No sense could be made of it, and the naked beauty with golden locks found by the river would disappear again, as such as those who stumbled out of the forest always did. There was only one last bit at the very end of the journal that could put light on the subject, and even it was vague.

...She has run away into the forest! Ha ha, she is trying to escape. Oh, my golden beauty you know you found me to be an adventure, didn't you? Just remember that when you find a thing you be looking for you can't un-find it. That is why it's called Shipwreck Island.

Whipped by the Willow s

* * *

"The wilderness was alive and throbbing. She hadn't raft to an island but to another world, an alien world. Its whispers and moans of want blew into her ear as black, fleshy, phallic shapes whipped about. The willows had revealed a more menacing form as their limbs began to lash at her. They tore off her clothes like a host of little hands and spanked her as punishment for coming here and listening to its songs.

It was these distant echoes that came from all around which mesmerized her. She should be recoiling in horror as the once passive plant like limbs had now slithered around her in alien fashion, dragging her into the mud as it prepared its dirty ritual. It was a hauntingly playful chorus, a siren's call that said she was about to enjoy everything that was going to happen.

The wilderness penetrated her with alien cocks full of filth and venom, there was so many. The ones that could shove themselves between the lips of her sex or into her ass, found home between her lips. The rest had to wait, squirming excitedly for their turn. They spanked her, coiled around her breasts and squeezed her, and spit thick ribbons of spunk all over her as punishment for having to wait there turn. But no matter how badly they abused her body, the siren's voice whispered gently in her ear like a long lost lover. 'She belonged here,' it told her, and she could not deny the alien feeling imposing on her body and soul.

She was not alone in this. The willows had claimed many more victims beside herself. Their shadows now watched her within the confines of the slithering and alien branches. They too, forever caught in a tangled snare of sex and debauchery in the whipping willows."

* * *

High in the Rocky Mountains the Snake River curls and slithers its way to the Colombia. Along its way, other tributaries from the high mountains connect with it. One of these is a sixty-two mile rushing mountain stream known as the Greys, which runs through the Rockies in a canyon of the same name. The entrance to this canyon is found at the small town of Alpine. It is here that both the canyon entrance and the town are loomed over by the imposing 'Sin' Mountain, or so the locals call it.

Sin Mountain is a towering monstrosity that sits in the middle of a crescent shaped range, which in turn, cradles and guards a lush wilderness valley directly above and behind the small town. It's stony, rough and ancient composition is famous for its size, imposing nature and uniqueness. None are allowed upon this particular parcel of land. The town does much to keep it off limits. The details of how and why are tangled deep in the town's history and politics. Mostly it is a place full of mystery that locals speak about in hushed tones.

We were nearing the backside of that mountain now, after starting our trip sixty-two miles south where the Greys begins as only a bubbling spring. It is fascinating to travel down its great length as the river expanded and grew from its meager beginnings to become the downward rushing river famous for its mountain trout and cold waters.

It wasn't a treacherous river, but winter runoff could make it deep in places and the further you rafted down its rolling waters the wider and colder it became. Throughout the canyon were marshy valleys that made their way down like steps. Here willow bushes grew like jungles and hid an abundance of wild fauna such as moose and beaver.

We were now at the largest of these marshy flats. The dark pinnacle of 'Sin' Mountain was plainly in view from our canoe. Dark clouds began to swirl amongst the peak. On the lips of a strong wind funneling through the canyon, was the warning that an approaching storm would make our trip less merry. In addition, the winter had provided unusually high runoff this year, making the waters colder, deeper and swifter than usual. The waters had flooded these marshy passes, and these areas were now littered with small islands and outlets that detached from the main river all over to connect with a labyrinth of deep beaver ponds and marshy side streams.

We had sailed most of the day and as the evening set in the now ceaseless buffeting of the tempestuous wind made us feel wary. We at once began casting about for a suitable camping site for the night. Ahead lie a great island that split the river and it was littered with a great many willows around its banks, which we used to stop our canoe; though the swiftness of the water made landing difficult.

We lay panting and laughing in the tall cord grass after our exertions. Sheltered from the winds by an immense army of dancing, shouting willows, closing in from all sides.

“What a trip!” I said to my companion, thinking of how far we had traveled from the river's source.

“He won't stand much nonsense now, will he?” she said in reference to the coming storm, as she pulled the canoe a little farther into safety, and then composed herself for a nap.

I lay by her side, happy and peaceful in the bath of the elements. The storm grew louder as the wind whistled through the willow branches. Distant thunder could be heard, but as of yet, no rain had fallen. It caused me to think of the journey behind us, and of how lucky I was to have such a delightful and charming traveling companion as my friend. She was a lovely person of Norwegian descent, and we had traveled together many times.

I left my friend to rest by the canoe to wander about in examination of our hotel. The island, I found, was less than an acre in extent. The sides closest to the main river showed deep erosion cuts into the bank with only willow roots to hold it in place. While at the other bank, shallower and calmer waters swept by and led deep into the mountain marshes. A small clearing in the middle of the isle, next to a tall pine proved the best place to set up camp.

The rest of the island was too thickly grown with willows to make walking pleasant, but I made the tour nevertheless. As the clouds settled in with the evening, the river took on a darker and more menacing mood. I looked out into the willows within the marshes that surrounded us well beyond the confines of the island. Hoarding along the banks as high water crested through their numbers to saturate the ground and fill the marshes deeper ponds and avenues. They reminded me of strange gigantic sponge like growths that sucked up the river into themselves, like a heard of beasts drinking from the river's banks.

It was an impressive scene, with its bizarre suggestion; and as I gazed, long and curiously, a singular emotion began to stir somewhere in the depths of me. Midway in my delight of the wild beauty, there crept in unbidden and unexplained a curious feeling of disquiet, alarming and fearful, yet somehow forbiddingly erotic.

The coming of a storm, and the power of a driving wind always suggests something ominous, yet the feelings I had did not deal with the rising wind or darkening sky. Nor did they emanate from being surrounding by the confines of nature high in the mountains and far from civilization. What I experienced was impossible to trace to its source. I felt meager before its unrestrained power and couldn't help but be helpless to the elemental forces that played with my imagination.

My emotion, as far as I could understand, seemed particularly attached to the willow bushes that stretched and guarded the far banks of our island. Great revelations of nature never fail to impress, but something about the willows, or perhaps something buried from view by their vast numbers, besieged my heart. It was as though we were trespassers in a predator's lair. Like a mouse that had crept unknowingly into a fox's den.

The feeling, though refusing to yield, did not at that time pass into menace. Even as we sent up camp for the night, it remained just enough to bother me. To my companion I said nothing. I could never explain to her what I meant, and secondly, she would have laughed at me for how stupid it would sound.

“The water seems to be rising faster than usual,” said my companion. ”This is quite unusual, even with so much snowmelt in the high country. It's raised half an inch since we landed. If it continues, the whole area, including this island, could be underwater. We'd better drag the canoe closer to the tent just in case.”

As she went to the canoe, climbing through the willows to the shore, I heard her surprised voice.

“What in the...” There was a long pause before she cried out again, louder this time. “What in the world is this?” with seriousness to her tone.

I ran up quickly to join her on the bank. She was looking at something on the river.

“Good heavens, there are people over there?” She whispered excitedly. “Look!”

Though it was hard to see in the waning light of dusk and coming storm, on the far bank, where the waters had crested into the willows to drain into a marshy pond, were the dark silhouettes of people. It looked like a man and a woman waist deep in the water. The naked outlines of the woman's breasts bobbed up and down, slapping the water as she faced her lover. There loins obviously entwined, only obscured by the willows and waning light. The man was thrusting up hard into her and she rocked and bobbed with great intensity. Until finally he nearly forced her completely out of the water with a mighty thrust of his hips before they both silently sank out of sight.

'Otters! By god they are only otters playing!' we said in the same breath laughing.

Two big river otters were playing in the nearby pond. Yet, it had looked exactly like two people in the throes of passionate sex. With the woman's firm breasts heaving into the man's chest with each blow he dealt to drive his body into hers. But they had now come to the surface once again. Their black fur wet and shining as they rolled together in the water.

Then, just as we turned back to camp with our arms full of kindling, another thing happened to call us back to the riverbank. Whether it was due to the waning light or the refraction from the water, I cannot say but, whatever the cause, I found it difficult to focus my sight properly on the distant mountain slope.

A moving mass was coming down the slopes and through the ravines of that largest and most ominous of mountains. A great number of living beings were crossing their way through the open spots where the trees were less dense. It was hard to tell what they were, but they must have been people for amongst the mass, small lights flickered as they moved. Some of the shapes were too large and too dark to be human. Their stature was strange and gauntly, like a bear walking on its back legs.

'They're heading toward the peak.' I said. 'But who are they, and why so many?'

'I believe your right,' my friend said squinting her eyes, 'but what are they doing at nightfall climbing that mountain?'

'Perhaps it's a large deer or elk herd?' She said, but the shapes did not seem to move right, nor did it explain the rare flicker of occasional fire light, like someone carrying a torch or lantern. 

After a while, we returned to camp. My friend was not much for imaginative talk and, for once, I was glad for it. I could not help but feel there was something more to it than just what we saw. The ominously swirling clouds around the mountain's peak did not help quite my own imaginations.

Contrary to our hopes, the wind did not die down. Instead, it seemed to increase with the darkness. Howling and shaking the willows and the sole tall pine that anchored our tent. Curious sounds accompanied it, like great moans or wild laughter screeching through the willows all around.

There was no rain, and only the occasional flash of lightning, just the intense wind that shook the willows and trees all around. Their dark silhouettes became menacing as they swayed heavily, making the uneasy feeling that had never left me only stir more strongly. I don't know what it was that aroused me so, but I couldn't help shake off the feeling that something was alive about this area. That perhaps the willows and marshes themselves were closing in with menacing movements upon our small encampment.

We both had a long day, and an early bed was the obvious solution. The eeriness of this lonely island, surrounded by its dark waters and menacing willows, touched us both. I couldn't shake the feeling we had unknowingly found ourselves in a trap, caught by some unseen and mysterious force. The feelings were more frightening not because of any sense of malice, but because the strange and dark beauty of it filled my imagination with thoughts of lust. Images of some mysterious stranger sailing to our island in the darkness, silent and nude, filled my mind. He would take me or my companion into the water. The mere thought of the sinking into the cold water hardened and aroused my nipples. The stranger would press his warm body against me. Steam rising from the impact of his skin against my own. I would feel his well-endowed manhood tickling me from beneath the rushing waters as he lured me with his warmth into a less turbulent pool beyond the willows. Somehow, my imagination believed the waters would be warmer there as we playfully bobbed and twirled in the water. The scene of what I imagined with the otters earlier flooded me. I wondered what a sensation it would be to have my own breasts slap the waters as I sat thrusting upon the hidden girth of his cock.

The perverse thoughts invaded me because I simply hadn't been sexually involved with anybody for some time. It was odd to have such thoughts here and now in this place. The moaning of the wind and the swaying of many willows branches in the menacing atmosphere gave me visions of large shadowy phalluses. My mind fascinatingly filled with images of cocks reaching out to penetrate me. My imagination went on an outlandish route of seeing long serpentine cocks sprouting from the earth and waters in great squirming masses disguised as willows to wait for hapless victims. I thought about letting something like that catch me and terrorize my body unseen within these marshy ponds. Letting the swarming mass slowly wrap around my legs. Making me wonder what to do before feeling the strange pleasure as they punctured my womanhood. For the last time I rose to get firewood.

'When this has burnt up,' I said firmly, ' I shall turn in.' My companion watched as I moved into the surrounding shadows. Perhaps the cool windy air and a focused task would free my mind of oddly arousing thoughts. My friend whom I thought of highly unimaginative also seemed unusually receptive to the surroundings. She too was touched by the strange dark beauty and loneliness of this place.

Instead of collecting firewood, I found myself making my way to peer again across to the far shore where we had once seen the otters. I suddenly had the desire to be alone while the former feeling of strange dread returned with greater force than before.

When I reached my destination the spell of the place descended upon me with a shock. I gazed across the wild waters and watched the whispering willows. The willows and what lay hidden beyond them forever went on chattering and talking amongst themselves, laughing a little, sometimes sighing and moaning in great pleasure. What it was all about belonged to the secret life of the marsh, and it was utterly alien to anything I knew. They made me think of a host of beings from some unearthly realm, unknown to our universe.

In the shadows of the swaying limbs, I watched them moving busily together. Great unseen forces beckoned to me as they moved seductively just out of sight. The willows themselves seeming to actively thwart my view as they shook their bushy heads and twirled their leaves. Even with the wind they seemed to move by their own free will. On the riverbanks they stood like a vast army surrounding our camp. Shaking their ever-phallic looking branches at me, which began to look more alive and organic than ever before.

I nearly lost my balance as a piece of the bank I stood upon fell into the river, undermined by the current. I stepped back just in time and went back on hunting firewood once again, half laughing at the odd fancies that crowded so thickly into my mind and cast a spell on me.

'You've been so long,' she shouted above the wind, 'I thought something must have happened to you.' My companion appeared suddenly, the roar of the elements must have covered her approach. But there was something in her tone as well as a certain look in her face that conveyed more than her usual words. In a flash, I understood the real reason for her coming. The spell had been cast on her soul as well. 

'Water is rising oddly quick,' she cried, pointing to the water, 'and the wind is getting awful.'

'Our camp will hold alright,' I cried back. 'But we will need to hurry once morning comes.'

Everything was snug for the night, weather permitting. Though the night was dark and the winds did howl, the rains never did come; only an ever moaning and wailing wind that played heavily upon my imagination. It continued to haunt me well after we smothered the fire and turned in. The flap of the tent was up, and I saw the shaking willows dance and wave. Their seductive swaying and the wind buffeting against our taunt little house were the last things I remembered as sleep came to cover us.

* * *

Suddenly I found myself awake. I looked at my watch it was just past midnight. Something plucked at my heart and I suddenly felt strange. There was a sense of disturbance in my neighborhood.

I sat up quickly and looked out. The wind was still howling and moaning louder than before. Everything outside was shaking from its intensity. The feelings I had did not pass however, and I crawled from the tent to see if our belongings were safe. I moved carefully to not wake my still sleeping companion.

I was half-way out, kneeling on all fours, when my eyes first saw the movements of shapes among the willows. It was incredible, surely, but there opposite of me were human shapes or at least human forms.

I strained myself trying to understand what I saw. It was like the otters before except they weren't otters, at least not all of them. Tied up in the marshes and willows were the outlines of naked woman with perky rock hard nipples pointing off their bobbing breasts. It was hard to make them out with the other shapes swarming around them. Masculine shapes, but not human; no far from it.

They were great beasts that seemed to be disguising themselves to be human, and failing hopelessly in all regards but basic shape and form. They were able to stand upright like a man, though with a significant gaunt, but their other features were all wrong. Some had feathers while others were covered in fur or scales.

They were scattered all around, oblivious of my presence. They only interested in undulating their naked bodies against beautiful woman until they were a single mass. The wind seemed to echo with the howling lust. It's moaning and crying screamed great pleasures throughout the branches and leaves, as though the scene had always been there, and now I understood the erotic whispers it blew into my ears.

I was frozen on my knees, uncertain if what I saw was real. I could only stare silently, hoping that they didn't notice me as I watched.  I could make out the creatures fat cocks slithering in and out of feminine bodies, and the unmistakable jostling of hips. I could see the breasts bounce and swirl with the rigid motions of each thrust rippling through their bodies.

There were at least a dozen bodies all squirming around in the willows. Closest were the otters. It must have been the same ones from before, though only one now retained any of his otter like features. The female on top was, or at least looked, very much human with the same voluptuous curves and round firm breasts and hard pointed nipples. Though the darkness of the night obscured certain features of her face, it was not hard to see that she was performing fellatio while lying on the semi-human like beast who was returning the same oral stimulation in return. His body half floating in the murk of a now flooded shore.

All the creatures with their partners seemed to prefer their lustful, carnal acts while letting themselves sink into chilly depths of the cold floodwaters as they moaned and slapped hips together. Then again, these inhuman forms seemed to take on shapes that made an aquatic domain a fitting home for them to spawn. The monstrous males were more than eager to fill their mate's wombs with gratuitous amounts of their own river water.

A group of fish monsters, three in total, again human in form and shape but not in features of their heads, and dare I say it, cocks, were all simultaneously ravaging a victim of their own. They splashed around wildly as they tore at the nude feminine form twisting in the shallow waters. Groping at their toy with webbed hands and coming down to engulf with wide lipped mouths to gorge on the fleshy mounds of the woman's breasts sticking out of the water.  They lifted her legs into the air and pushed their fish like snouts into her crotch. The trout like mouths so wide that they seemed like they could swallow their victim whole if it so pleased them.

Who were these woman and what were these beasts? Though it was hard to tell in the shifting light if the woman were not as beastly or as monstrous as the masculine things ravaging them. The otter couple would take turns exchanging their beastly appearances. Sometimes it was the woman on top who appeared to have the sleek, glistening fur and oddly shaped otter head. Sucking down and licking on the very prominent and unmistakable manhood of her partner. Her sleek, wet, voluptuous body lying across the more masculine looking male.  Her legs spread open around his cute head while he curled his body for better access to the wet lips of her juicy pussy.

The more I watched, trying to understand what I saw and what was going on, the stranger it became. In horror, it started to become apparent that there was more to this scene than alien beasts copulating before my eyes. They all seemed completely oblivious of my presence, perhaps they didn't care or that it was some kind of omen, the whole scene had an unearthly aura about it. But when I realized that the very nature of this place was changing, or had changed, that I began to feel we had fallen into something forbidden and I was witnessing something not meant to be seen.

For it was at that moment that I began to notice that some of the alien and monstrous features of those entwined in the wet dance of passionate lust of that howling darkness before me, were not all from the entities themselves. The landscape itself was playing its hand as well. As though my imaginations had predicted some wild outcome, the willows were participating. As the wind howled past their limbs, I noticed more and more that they swayed unnaturally. I originally believed that their dark outlines were only caused by the darkness of the night. Nay, the willows were no longer the woody and leafy flora I had once known them to be. Out of the rising waters they were now a swaying, wiggling mass of the most monstrous nature. Alien beyond all words as their slithering cock shape appendages swarmed upon the hosts of trapped bodies in the waters around them.

What I once believed to might have been a tail on the female otter-like figure, was instead a black pulsating willow cock, thrusting and quivering slowly in and out of the captured host. In truth, all the scenes were tied up in the dark squirming cock tentacles that erupted out of the cold waters, wrapping male and female forms up in a tangled erotic mess.

The feeling and thrusting mess did not make the features of its hosts look any more human, perhaps even less so in that moaning night wind. A massive orgy scene with black tentacles abound was layered with different acts of sexual deviance. Again, a female figure lay in the cold waters on her stomach, black tendrils sprouting up all around her as she obviously sucked on a pulsating cock. Was it one of the black tentacles sprouting from the earth or the strange reptilian beast lying in front of her, I couldn't tell. The waving willows branches were so dense it was hard to say. Two more feminine figures on all fours were directly behind the first that was tasting alien cock. Watching and tasting the black pulsating tentacles that filled the first one's holes, and apparently being drilled behind by a feathered duo of avian looking beasts. One was tall and slender with a long neck and face or beak. He stood above and behind one kneeling girl. His feathers rustling as he thrusted into her from behind like a beast. The other kneeling figure had a more duck like creature standing over her.

It was hard to say what it was I saw. The figures wanted to look human, but then they didn't and had the shapes of birds, fish, and other wetland creatures. Nothing could make up its mind on what it wanted to be, and the ever-squirming alien mass of black cock like tentacles that should have been willows didn't help. All I knew was that it was both alien and very erotic. An abstract image of motion with the winds only amplifying the moans and howls of pleasure as bodies rubbed together. Letting the cold waters splash and run across their frames with cocks thrusting between wet pussy lips. Black slick tentacle cocks that tied their victims up and forced them to fuck each other in some fantastic orgy. 

Creatures that resembled otters, fish, birds and frogs. I didn't think that things like frogs could have such large cocks. But neither did I think that frogs could grow to the size of bears or walk and stand on only their back legs. Or that waving living cocks would sprout from the ground and marshes around them as two of them fucked furiously the female forms before them. Both of them lying in the water as the black tendrils held them there to violate them further. Tendrils stuffing themselves in their mouths or down the cleavage of their breasts. Tying and twirling around the feminine curves of one or the other as they shook from the rippling pounding of their cocks sliding past their suckling labia to pound hard against their womb.

Faster and faster the scene flew into a feverish frenzy of alien flesh and pounding sex. The wind screamed in delight as more such scenes of odd depravity were happening well beyond my sight in the vast, marsh flats beyond. The black outlines writhed thrusting; water splashed and black tentacles lashed about in the moaning wind, until the splashes and sprays were not from the bodies slapping wildly in the cold waters, but from the violent orgasms that began to spray. The tentacles whipped about pulsating and explosive sprays began to burst from their cock like heads.

The wind only helped to whip it about and even I felt it splash against my face; a warm wetness. Instantly I realized that this was no mere dream or night vision caused by an over working imagination. They had touched me, perhaps not directly, but in my hypnotic fascination I had allowed their poison to sting me.

I frantically tried to wipe the filth from my face and skin, tearing at my clothes that were now covered in the slick glistening spray. I tore off my shirt and my pants. I could hear the fibers tear in my haste to get them off. A strange fear told me that I needed to clean myself of the filth before it was too late.

More wetness fell upon my back and shoulders. I was being bombarded by the roaring climax. I screamed and tore more at my skin and clothing until realizing, nearly naked in the wet and mud that rain was pouring from the sky. The storm was finally upon us with full force. As for the images and strange alien bodies wrapped and bound by pulsing willow cocks fucking wildly? Gone, all gone. It was just the island and normal looking willows swaying in the moaning wind and rain.

I felt foolish; it was all just a bad dream. I gathered my tattered bits of clothing and crawled back into the dry warmth of my tent. My companion was still fast asleep, seemingly undisturbed by any of the events outside. I lay quietly back onto my bedroll, burying my head as deeply as possible beneath the blankets to quite the sound of that laughing, moaning and taunting wind; that whispered temptations as it playfully buffeted our tent.

* * *

As though to convince me further that I was not going mad, I remember it was a long time before I fell back into a troubled and restless sleep. Even then only part of me slept, while underneath there was a part of me that just could not rest. Like a poison truly had seeped into my skin and soul, unable to get out what it had seen and felt in the darkness. It kept me alert as though waiting for something.

The second time I awoke was with a start. A strange fear and excitement fell over me. It wasn't the wind or the rain that woke me, but the slow approach of something that I felt was coming for me because it had marked me.

The wind was taunting more than ever before. It was sweet and tempting with indiscernible whispers telling me to come and play. But there was something else to it, something that wasn't fully the wind.

Something was coming, moving and slithering about. I could hear its rustling, getting closer as I lie there. I had been aware of it for a long time and I sat up nervously. I felt hot and strange, my body began readying itself. I was getting wet and my nipples grew excited. My body grew restless but my mind was terrified. I had no idea what was going on. It must feel the same for a fly caught in a spider's web, trapped and uncertain of what to do.

Something began pressing against the tent, weighing down upon it. Was it the wind, the pattering of the rain, or was it the spray blown in from the river? I tried desperately thinking over a dozen things that would help rationally explain it.

Then suddenly I had it, the explanation must be the tree we were under. The wind must be pushing it down. The next gust would surely uproot it, bringing it down to crush us. I leaped out of the tent calling for my companion to follow.

But when I got out, I saw nothing wrong. The tree was in no danger of uprooting. In truth the wind, though still howling, had died down a bit and the rain was even letting up. Nothing was out of place or unusual. Not even my frantic plea was enough to stir my companion from her slumber.

I looked about carefully, noting everything; I turned over the canoe; the yellow paddles - two of them; the provision sack and the extra lantern hanging together in the tree. A bird uttered its morning cry, and a string of ducks passed overhead as the first rays of dawn filtered through the bushes.

I walked around a bit; the river had indeed risen all around the island. Its waters crested past the wall of willows and flooding a good portion of the island. Fortunately, we still held the high ground on the knoll with the tall pine, but it made examining the farther shores more difficult as I carefully stepped my way through the newly created marshes surrounding us. What troubled me about that flood soaked land is it being disturbed by more than water. The water was muddy, and soft ground was broken up and churned about as though a great multitude of animals had wallowed through it. It instantly brought back the memories from what I had seen that night.

I managed to make my way enough to peer across the closest shore. The river was moving swiftly, and was altering everything as it crested its banks. It would be troublesome work to get our canoe back to the shore and I searched through the muddy trotted mess for the best route to travel. Along the way, I passed by the very bushes that I had seen alive and writhing in the midnight hours. Midway among the clumps, I was overwhelmed by a sense of alarm.  For within the shadows of the whipping tangles of branches I swear I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a figure pass by me.

Once in a more open space the sense of terror diminished but I had no intentions to pass so close to those willows again. I would be glad to get off this island. The final stretch of river lay before us and soon civilization would be upon us. However, it was still too dark out and the storm, though waning, had yet to fully pass.

I began to laugh at myself at the absurd ideas that crossed my mind. After all, only I had bore witness to such things while my companion still lay sound asleep undisturbed. I don't know what caused my imaginings but it had made me weary. I slipped back into the tent again for a bit more rest before the journey start. It was, after all, only a little past five and my companion, fully rested, would wake me when the time came.

Again, I could not fully rest, as my troubled thoughts could not work out all the details it had seen. For surely now the willows around the tent were crowded much closer – unnecessarily and unpleasantly close. Creeping with silent feet as the island grew smaller, and I remembered the pattering of limbs upon my tent and the writhing forms in the shadows.

* * *

My companion was up and about; the smell of breakfast cooking with sizzling bacon aroused me from my restless slumber.

'Rivers still rising.' She said 'I can't understand why.'

'Any wood left?' I asked sleepily.

'We have plenty of wood but the island will disappear by tomorrow. We'll last until then at any rate.'

Quite suddenly the implied meaning of her words flashed across me. 'Enough to last another night! We'd better leave within the hour.' I said pressingly.

But her reply puzzled me uncomfortably: 'Rather! If they'll let us.'

'Who will let us?' I asked quickly with affected indifference.

'The powers of this awful place, they must have spread and now claim a wider region than I recall.' She looked off into the distance of the mighty peak where we had seen the lights and movement the night before.

'We'll be lucky to get away without further disaster.'

'Further disaster! Why? What's happened?'

'For one, the steering paddles is gone and there's a tear in the bottom of the canoe.' she said with a tremor in her voice.

I stared at her in disbelief and got up to follow her. The canoe still lay where I had last seen it, the paddles, or rather a paddle, sitting next to it. It was at the tip of my tongue to tell her I had seen both only a few hours before, but I said nothing.

My first thought took the form of the muddy wallows that had formed and the animals that had created them. 'A moose!' I exclaimed, 'It must have been a moose or some other animal that visited our island during the night. I saw the mess they had made earlier down where the waters had crested and flooded past the bushes.'

'They are attempting to prepare us a sacrifice.' She said slowly, ' The powers of the place. Great gods are here, if they are anywhere at all in the world.'

'What are you talking about?' I said perplexed. I had never before seen my companion speak so cryptically. This sudden burst of imaginative thought was perhaps more disturbing than the oddities that had happened thus far.

'I know that we are in a bit of situation here.' I argued, 'But nothing is so strange as to be talking nonsense. We'll patch this up and be on our way. It's not like we haven't been in a bind before.'

'Queer thing.' She interrupted, 'Queer thing about the otters last night.'

'Yes?' I replied nervously, "you don't see as many as you'd think up here do you?'

'I don't mean that,' she interrupted again. 'I mean do you really think it was otters? You know I was the first to see it, and they were much bigger than otters.' Her voice got quieter as she said it, as though trying to avoid describing what she had really seen.

I couldn't accept this affirmation of the visions I had seen. I wanted to believe them to be the creation of my own wild imagination. Why the scenes had been erotic, I could only gather as a form of sexual starvation. It had been a while since I had been with any man and somehow my subconscious was playing out titillating scenes with my natural surroundings. I must be so hungry for cock that I see them waving in the willow branches, or I'm imagining wildlife fucking in some twisted human form. Ever since I had gotten here the disturbing erotic feelings had draped over me with such a profound nature, it was miraculous that I had not given into my own lusts and found a secluded part of the island to privately pleasure myself. Now my partner was confirming my fears that it was more than just a feeling.

'It was just the playing of shadows as the wind swept through the willows and waters.' I said desperately. 'Of course their playing looked strange at first.'

'And what about the things on the mountain?'

'I don't know, a herd of animals, deer perhaps?'

'And the lights?'

'Like I said, I don't know it was too far to see anyway. If not animals, it was people. Does it really make a difference?'

We pulled the pitch from our provisions and set about mending the damage to the boat. It would take the day to fix the canoe, and with the rising rushing waters all around we had no other choice but wait another day. The storm was now all but over, the sun was shining, and the wind was nothing but a light breeze. So maybe the day was in our favor. Yet, my partner kept straining to listen to the winds, quite intently at times, as we worked and tended to our camp chores.

We were quite for most of the day as we worked. At dinnertime, my partners fidgeting nature of straining and listening to something unseen bothered me to the point that I insisted to know what was bothering her so much.

'I've heard it all day,' said my companion. 'While you slept this afternoon it has come from all around the island. Sometimes it's overhead, or underwater. Once or twice I could've sworn it was coming from nowhere at all. Since the wind isn't howling so loudly now, you can now hear them beckoning softly.' She cupped her hand to her ear. 'Come! Come and listen with me. See what you make of it.'

Curiously I did the same and together we listened. At first I heard only the deep note of the waters and the light whistle of the breeze past the mountains and trees. Then, as I paid more attention to it, something else began to mingle with these natural sounds. It was odd because, like my companion said, it seemed to come from everywhere; up above and from the waters and all around. Yet, it was also coming from no place discernible, like a thought being planted in your mind.

It whispered and giggled in an alien tongue. It spoke in a chorus too softly to understand yet somehow it made me blush. I felt like it was teasing me, telling me strange secrets that made my nipples perk with sudden excitement. A warm wetness began to trickle between my legs, as I was sure it was somehow warning me about the things it would do to my body. Images of wet slick bodies rubbing sensually against each other filled my mind as a hot passion fell over me. I remembered the swaying black pulsating cocks waving and whipping about. Their swarming masses like alien anemones that ravaged beast and woman alike. I began seeing the willows sway and twitch in ways that seemed unnatural the more the voices of the wind touched my body. Only when my partner screamed at me did I came back to reality, and realize the bothered state I was in.

'Stop!' She panicked, 'Don't listen too closely or they will find you!

'What is it?' I said bewildered.

'I'm not sure, but I know it comes from that mountain. There are stories about that mountain and the valley it looms over, but I was certain that the valley was on the other side, nearest the town.' She continued but was weary and guarding her words. 'There are other places like it, I think, all around the world. It took my sister a long time ago, when I was only a child. The same thing was there in an old castle ruins we were visiting in France.'

'Well what is it, what does it plan to do with us?' I inquired.

'I don't think it knows we are here, at least not completely. Like I said,' she whispered very carefully, 'It isn't supposed to be here. I dreaded going past this mountain but I thought it would stay in those haunted lands.'

'You mean the private land that's such a mystery?' I inquired.

'Yes, it is a mystery because it dwells there; it dwells in many places. But I thought it couldn't leave the places it inhabits. I thought we would be okay. But I don't think it has full power here yet, or else it would have already taken us.'

I had never seen her like this, her words so enigmatic and unlike her, and it was beginning to frustrate me.

'What is it?' I demanded, 'And why can't it find us, and what will it do if it does?'

"Shhhh!' she cried, 'It will hear you. I think it's fishing somehow, as if throwing bait into the water, it knows there are fish here and is waiting for us to take the bait. If it catches us, it will take us like it did my sister and we'll be lost forever. We will never be able to leave. We will become its playthings.'

I listened again to the mysterious sounds. The feelings that had almost overwhelmed me stilled lingered. It made me understand what she meant by 'plaything' and I was both shocked and appalled by the idea as the scene from the night before came back into memory. I now fully understood the erotic feelings I had since coming here, and it made me fear the willows and what was beyond them even more.

Just then, something sacrilegious began moaning so loudly that it was unmistakable. A shrill thrill went down my spine, vibrating me as though an invisible cock of massive girth plowed into me.

My partner turned ashen white under her tan. She bolted upright sweating and stiff as a rod. 'We must go!' She said in a helpless frantic way. We can't stay now; we must go on down the river immediately!'

She was wild and trembling; I could see that more than just fear affected her. A great arousal had come upon her, just like it was upon myself. More and more I was yearning, my body wanting. Now I could see she was under the same spell.

'We can't!' I exclaimed, shaking from the profound feelings, 'We have no boat. It's too badly damaged and won't float. Besides, we only have one paddle, and the river is moving to swiftly for us to make it any other way.'

Indeed, it seemed that forces unseen had made the river far swifter than its usual playful pace. It gurgled with menace as it lapped at the shrinking shoreline. It was indeed as if we had fallen into a snare and it was only a matter of time before the trapper would come to check its catch.

* * *

We went to bed early that night, taking everything we could into the tent, even the canoe, which we propped up at the end of the tent. Neither of us said a word. Sleep was the fastest way for day to come. By then the boat would be ready and we could get off this island, that is if there was an island by then. We had watched it shrink by over half its size over the course of the day.

Sleep was hard, and we both fidgeted. My imagination keep filling with thoughts that were not wholly my own. Strange, erotic, and forbidden; I normally would be fine with lustful thoughts of sexy hunks having their way with me. It was only unnatural when I could not stop thinking about those same hunks transforming into beastly monsters. Somehow my mind still saw them as wonderful and savage. I was constantly scolding my own thoughts to be still, but I knew that the voices, those damnable voices that could only be heard if you focused upon the winds in the willows, were to blame. 

In my restlessness, some time managed to pass, how much I wasn't sure but I knew that something was different. I did not hear my companion stir, fidget, or breath. I called out to her as I sat up, and at that moment it came to me that the tent was surrounded. Again, something pressed against the tent but there was no rain and little wind to blame this time.

I called out to her again, louder than before, but she didn't answer. I noticed the flap of the tent was down and crawled out into the night air. The sky was bright and clear, filled to the brim with so many twinkling stars.

The bright night sky allowed me to see my way as I frantically searched. The waters had indeed rose unnaturally high, far beyond what the river should be capable of doing. Only the knoll with our tent and tree seemed untouched. The rest was now wet and marshy, my feet sinking in the wet soft grasses and now muddy ground.

I hurried as best I could to the islands former banks, the water getting deeper, sinking to my knees. A wall of willows blocked my way, waving and twirling long slender branches. They were ill behaved and they whipped and lashed out at me.

It was then I realized the trap was finally sprung. The crying, moaning, laughing, teasing sounds exploded all around me. There was my friend, naked and bound in the swirling waving black tendrils that erupted up from the newly created marsh. The willows must have been the alien voice for their appearance was far from this world. Long black glistening tendrils and phallic to the extreme. Squirming and whipping about as they undulated their want for sexual intercourse, their fat phallic tips slithering and hissing about like stalking serpents hungry to inject their prey with their bodily venom.

It was too late for my friend. I could only watch as I fell backwards into the murky waters, evading the grasping clutches of the phallic vines. Had she been taken forcefully or did she wander into them willingly? I did not know, but now she screamed and howled not in fear but in wanting pleasure. Her naked form flailing about as the tendrils wrapped around her and held her aloft as their new prize.

I could see clearly in the starlight what they were doing to her. The black coils shined with wetness as they entwined around her wanting breasts, squeezing and pushing them to the sky like an offering. They pulled her legs apart and flicked their heads across her naked bush.

'Please, I can't fight it anymore!' She cried out, 'I want you to have me, to fuck me, I can't take it anymore. I hear your cries of desire, take me!'

The forces heard her cries and slid its dark cock into her. The fat black slithering shaft glided with a starlight glisten between the suckling lips of her pussy as though it had always belonged.

I lay drenched in the cold rising waters, too fascinated to do anything but watch. The drumming wanting sounds that echoed from nowhere filled my ears with temptations I didn't understand. I wanted to see this happen but I didn't know why. I wanted to see my partner get ravaged and fucked by something indescribable. I was removing my clothes right there in the bog. I wasn't noticing what I was doing until more sexual madness aroused me to join my partner.

I kept out of reach of the flailing black tentacles that were filling my friend even though I was watching with lustfully hungry eyes. The river, however, would not have this and new monstrosities rose from cold waters to make sure that none would escape its temptations. Two large humanoid creatures with gills and fins swam to shore and strode past the tangled net of waving black willow cocks.

By the time I had noticed them I had already stripped down to  my underwear, and  even it was coming off as I went to pleasure myself with my fingers and rubbing my tits to keep them warm in the cold water.

There was a spell upon me. I had felt it this whole time but now it was stronger than ever. It was the only explanation for the lack of fear in these things. I knew what they came here to do, I had seen them the night before. No moose had come to our camp in the dead of night. Nay, it was spirits of the river who only had a desire to fuck. Horny fucking spirits who took on shapes and forms that best reflected their nature.

I couldn't help but continue to stare at my partner who was being ravaged furiously by the tangled tendrils of the river. Holding her up in the air while tendril cocks thrusted quickly in and out of her hole. One had forced itself into her moaning mouth and forced her to suck on it. The rest had to wait and be content slapping and slithering across her body, finding crevices and valleys of flesh to rub against to sate them as they waited.

As for myself, I don't think the river needed to send its minions. I was too enthralled by the enchanting sight to turn away, even as the odd fish headed beasts tore my underwear off, sat me down in the cold muddy earth and spread my legs. If I hadn't felt the jamming of that fishy cock inside me, I would have walked into that waiting trap of willow vines turned monstrous, and let them do the same to me.

As soon as I felt that wet cock pound against the door of my womb, my attention turned. I cried a wailing moan as though my wet muff had finally received a most wanted gift. For a moment I snapped out of the spell and realized where and what was going on. The phantom dream like quality had disappeared. I was truly naked, pressed down into the flood shores mud and wet grass that gurgled around me. This hulking thing loomed over me, its hips thrusting into mine. It was not hideous by any means, though he was not human.

He was actually quite masculine with a strong barrel chest and wide shoulders that held burly arms. He had the body of a sailor, which was all the more fitting for his fishy features. In fact, he reminded me of that classical Hollywood creature from a certain 'Black Lagoon'. The feeling of his flesh inside my womanhood was already intensely firing pleasure receptors that I didn't seem to know about, or perhaps had forgotten. 

I tried to make out the shape of his cock. Determining his size was easy, though he was mighty in girth; his cock had unusual features to it that seemed to rub me in just the right places.

My compatriot was yelling in pleasure and so was I. It was too late for us, greater disaster was upon us and now there was no escape. I had no idea what it would mean to be bred and filled by the rivers seed, but it was about to happen. Soon with gurgling cries, my mate came into me. It was no different for my friend as ropy ribbons oozed from her abused pussy, dripping down into the cold waters below her.

It was strange, usually such cold water would numb the senses. Here it excited me and made me wonder if it wasn't the water itself that wasn't alive. Everything was just an extension of it. I wondered if it hadn't fallen for us from the start, wanting to woo us and now here we were in its wet bedroom.

The monstrous mer-creature pulled out and drained the last of his wet seed over me while I watched a second such gilled beast move in to take his place. As he did so, I was pulled closer to the swarming mass that held my companion. I was to belong to him now, the willows and the river; it was really all one in the same. The cold, clear waters washed over me as I felt myself being filled up again for a second time. This time the black tendrils came to touch and caress me just like my companion. Fat and phallic, they made me feel slutty as I let them twirl and slither about on my body to play and flicker with my nipples.

The willows, or whatever they actually were, gave up their secrets and soon a whole host of beings rose out of the dense living foliage of black phalluses. It truly was becoming a scene from the night before, only now my companion and I were part of it. We became part of some wild river orgy tossing and turning in the water and mud. Stirring it up as our hot bodies mingled for sex and pleasure. The movements of the willows twirling and fucking our bodies with the help of the monstrous hosts created such friction that the waters got warmer while they became tainted by flow after flow of thick gooey seed.

I don't know how long we played in the spray of the river. No longer did it taunt and tease. It fucked us every way good. It was the first time I had taken more than one cock at once, and I think it was the same for my partner. I never knew about her sister, or that other places in the world held such similar secrets, but now my friend had found a strange closure. Perhaps now she would learn more about her sister. Perhaps her sister was among us now as one of the more feminine beasts that had joined the party. I had a feeling they were all once like her, captured victims to a mysterious force, but they didn't care. Everything was enjoying itself laughing, crying out in pleasure and play and splashing about as they lusted over one another.

When the morning came, we were gone. Just in time, as the island and most of the marshy valley had finally succumbed to the mysterious flood. Not that it mattered, our camp was long gone and so was our canoe. We didn't need it anymore. The willows had consumed us. We were now moving up the slope of a mighty mountain, with a host of others, some male, some female, all part of the river that liked to coil around a mountain of lust.

THERE IS ALWAYS MORE STORIES COMING OUT. IF YOU LIKE WHAT YOU READ, CHECK OUT THESE AND OTHER UPCOMING STORIES ON AMAZON.COM

Paperback Collections

The Paperback Collection

 Paperback Collection #2

EBOOK STORY BUNDLES

The Forest of Lust Collection: Bundle #1

Beasts of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water: Bundle #2

Squirming Tentacles and other Monstrous Delights: Bundle #3

Exotic Wilds and the Beasts they Hide: Bundle #4

Howling Pleasures from Throbbing Night Treasures #5

Monstrous Seeds made from Monstrous Deeds: Bundle #6

Also enjoy this selection from my stories of Monstrous Lust Series:

IN THE FOREST OF LUST SAGA (You can click for links.)

Part I. The Forest Stud's Seed

Part II. Naked Nymph, Playful Forest

Part III. Invitations to the Party of Lust

Part IV. Feral Beasts, Lustful Beasts

Part V.  Down the Carnal Path

Part VI. Beware the Jabberwocky's Desires

MONSTROUS LUST: BEYOND THE FOREST

Claimed by Wild Horses

Probed Deep, Monster Isle

Sinking Deep into his Coils

The Festival of Taboo Carnal Lords

He Squirms For Her

Ishtar; Claimed and Seduced by her God.

https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B018J8FKEU

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Let The Monstrous Lust Continue!!!

I am an author who loves the weird. I hail from the empty state of Wyoming and spend my time, when not writing erotica, reading weird stories by authors like Lovecraft, Lord Dunsany, F. Marion Crawford and others who like the strange. They inspire me to make erotic monster stories. Its fun and fascinating to explore this strange, taboo side of sexual ideas. So if you want to read erotica that explores some new territory, mixing weird monsters and hot fun, then stop on by and take a read. 

My Twitter: Where I like to share my releases and other things.
https://twitter.com/em_beastly

And here is my Email Newsletter http://eepurl.com/bHPWbD

[1]   From the story "Monstrous Lust: How Rose brought Lusty Pleasure to the Gnoles"  https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01I5YBD94

[2] From the story "Monstrous Lust: Hot Temptation, Lust's Hardcore Hell" https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01MDPJBWG

[3] Referencing my first ever story: Monstrous Lust: The Forest Stud's Seed https://www.amazon.com/dp/B018GP8VYC

[4] Referencing the story 'Monstrous Lust: Rituals of Sin, Lust, Pleasure, and Play' https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01D5H6HJ2

[5] Referencing the story 'Monstrous Lust: Monster Girl Entangles Her Man' https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01KL9750W

[6] Referencing the story 'Monstrous Lust: Transformed by Lust' https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01HIW8W8E