Thursday, July 27, 2017

The Lemurian

Note: Lesbian/Demihuman themes

Lana flinched awake as she heard an all-too-familiar humming sounding in her ears. No, not her ears, not really. It was a humming sound, a low buzzing, that she wasn’t physically hearing, but was instead how her brain interpreted the psychic signal of a hard penis nearby. Actually, make that three hard penises. Actually, make that three hard penises that were being stimulated towards orgasm.

Sunday, July 23, 2017

Sucking Her

Note: Gay/Trans themes

I had been sitting by myself in the town library, attempting to read some comics in peace and forget about my blue balls, when another man pulled out a chair and sat on the other end of my small table. I blinked and looked up. He was tall, lean, and had short blond hair and intense blue eyes. I had never seen him before.

“Hey, Mark,” he said. There was a soft, but compelling quality to his voice. It was hard to describe. Crazily, my cock, which I had finally managed to get under control after focusing on superheroes punching each other, started to swell a bit. I could only assume it was a glimmer of some accidental command of arousal from one of the women in the shop, and not because I found something attractive about this young man I had never met. I wasn’t gay, after all. Still, he was a bit on the very handsome side, I had to admit.

“Um… hi…?” I said. I really hadn’t wanted to be bothered today. I’d spent fifty hours a week for the past month working my dead-end retail job, where I kept getting zapped with little cock tease spells by female customers and co-workers, then having to do chores at home for my mom (who still wasn’t allowing me to jerk off to relieve the tension, saying it would “motivate me to move back out sooner”). I had hoped that coming to a place where people normally kept themselves under control for a little bit of peace and quiet in town, I could manage to go most of a day without getting pestered by any one and just center myself.

No such luck. The man sat there, an amused smile on his face. I waited for him to continue, but he seemed to expect me to say more. “Um… sorry, I was reading…”

“Ha!” the man chuckled quietly. “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot.” He motioned over himself as if that was supposed to clue me into something. He leaned forward. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but it’s me, Mark. I’m Wendy.”

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

Jane Clone Interview

The following audio log was found among the black box files of the Pandora Research Facility.


Dr. F: We’ll ask again, Jane. Why do you want to hurt Jake so much?


Dr. F: We can sit here all day.

Jane: I don’t know. I just do. I sense his cock, and all I want to do is use my magic on it. All I want to do is make him twist and writhe and thrash and cry and beg and scream at my feet. I want to grab his cock and just feel his whole body lock up. I want to put him inside me and watch him go insane and die from my touch.

You think I’m bad to him? You have no idea how much I’m holding back. I just want to hurt him through his dick, constantly, so fucking bad.

Friday, July 14, 2017

Found and Lost

I’m not sure who will ever end up reading this, but I’ve decided to keep this journal for the purpose of… honestly, I don’t know. Evidence on the off chance I get rescued, and my captor can be prosecuted? Maintaining my own sanity? Staving off the boredom of nothing better to do most of the time?

My name is Art, short for Arthur. I’m writing this all down because I have become a prisoner to a woman with whom I had a brief fling a year or two before she gained her Sex Mage powers. And lucky me, she ended up being one of those Archmage freaks, the ones who don’t just block your orgasms and give you psychic handjobs, but who can do crazy shit like breathe fire and duplicate themselves and shapeshift. In her case, she gained the power to alter people’s size. Make herself a giantess or shrink down men. That’s what she did to me.

Let me back up. I met this girl, Beth, at a frat party, in college. I was twenty-one, she was barely eighteen. This was a year before Sex Magic ever appeared; this was well before every woman on earth gained the power to psychically control men’s bodies and minds through our dicks. I’m drunk and I’m horny, and I see this cute little piece of ass, timidly in the corner. I come on a little heavy, I guess. If I’m being honest, I don’t remember the night totally clearly. But I remember, Beth, she didn’t put up any sort of fight. I don’t think she was drunk at all. She was just painfully shy. Like, I’m hitting on her, and she’s just blushing and stuttering, and I dunno man, there’s just something about young, nervous virgins that just makes me want to bed them and break them in, ruin them for all other men, you know? That’s what my dumb-ass drunk self thought back then, anyway.

Reading this over, it seems like I raped her, doesn’t it? I know how this goes. Guy and girl meet at a party, they’re drunk, they sleep together, don’t remember what happened, but she regrets it, so she charges him with rape. Or he regrets it and doesn’t call her afterwards, and she gets ticked and charges him with rape as revenge.

Well, I didn’t rape her. I came on aggressive, but she never said no or pushed away my hands. She was just too shy to make the first moves. Once I got her into a room, she let me do whatever. She was crying out and moaning and letting me do anything I wanted. I like to imagine I plowed her for hours until she couldn’t take anymore, but I’m pretty sure I shot off in like five minutes and passed out. I blame the booze.

Anyway. I wake up the next morning. She’s still definitely a cutey, but not my usual lay, not by my sober standards anyway. I leave her at the frat house, still asleep. Somehow, she got my number off my phone, though, because she’s texting me the next day. I try to ignore her, but she figures out where my dorm room is and confronts me there. I’m afraid at first she’s gunna say she’s pregnant, but no, she just wanted to see me again.

Look, I felt a little bad, okay, nobody likes being the receiving end of a pump and dump, I get it. But this girl just wasn’t my type. We hung out a little bit, and she was just a complete bore. Talking about clothes and the dumb shit she posted on Facebook and whatever. I let her give me a couple handjobs, but she wasn’t even good at them. She didn’t let me fuck her again, saying she wanted to keep it special and “do it for real when the time is right” whatever the fuck that means.

After a week of this crap, I dump her. She’s real upset, but I just put my foot down and cold shoulder her until she takes a hint. After a couple weeks, she stops talking to me.

A year later, Sex Magic appears.