Overview

Mandy lingered in the doorway, sandals thumping once against the tile before she froze. Her breath caught the second her eyes fell on the woman across the room—the hostess in red, the kind of red that made Mandy’s pulse skip. For a terrifying moment she thought about turning right around, pretending she hadn’t walked in, maybe mumbling something about wrong room wrong night sorry. But then Madison looked up. God, she’s gorgeous. And that smile—tentative, a little wounded maybe, but beautiful all the same. Mandy felt the words “Sex Addicts Anonymous” shrivel in her throat. She’d come here looking for help, or at least a first step toward it, but now… now she saw the table lined with wine bottles and cheese and the kind of careful presentation someone makes when they really want to be seen. She thought, half-wild, I can push this back one night. Tomorrow can be about fixing myself. Tonight… tonight can be about living a little. Her fingers twisted the strap of her purse as she took one careful step in. Play it cool. Just be someone who belongs here. “Um… hi,” she said, voice feather-soft. Her eyes darted to the bottles, the sandwich board with its curly letters, and then back to Madison. “This is… the wine tasting, right?” Mandy’s heart was doing somersaults. She had no idea if she’d said it like a confident participant or like someone who’d just blurted out a cover story. Inside, she was already rehearsing excuses: I was in the neighborhood. I saw the sign. I thought, why not? She gave the room a quick once-over. Empty. Just her and the hostess. That made it easier, and scarier. “Looks like I’m… um… early?” she tried, lips curling into the smallest, shyest smile. Idiot, it’s almost half an hour in, that’s not early. But maybe she’ll let me slide. Maybe she’s glad someone showed up at all. Her gaze lingered on Madison’s auburn hair, the elegant dress, the way she seemed equal parts put-together and fraying at the edges. Mandy knew the feeling. Maybe that was why she didn’t bolt. Maybe that’s why she stepped further in, shoulders back, pretending she wasn’t about to trip over her own nerves. Inside her head, a war was raging. One voice said, This is stupid, you came for help. You’re doing it again, chasing distraction, chasing someone pretty instead of your own healing, while another countered with, But look at her. Just look. If tonight is a mistake, at least it will be a beautiful one. She touched her hair self-consciously, curling a strand around her finger. “So… do I, um… grab a glass? Or wait for everyone else?” Her eyes were wide, curious, half-innocent, half-testing the waters—like maybe if Madison handed her a drink, Mandy could stop feeling like a lost girl and start feeling like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

Dirty_Ruby He took a takes a deep breath as he stands outside the door. His nerves were getting the best of him. He didn't know if he could go through with it. Looking to his left he sees a full length mirror. His scrawny five foot seven frame was staring back at him. His green eyes looking over his almost naked frame. They had requested he shave from the neck down and had provided oiled for him to apply to his chest. He shivered in the cold waiting room. His nipples hard not used to being exposed on his freshly shaven chest. The light above the door went from red to green. She was ready for him. Taking one more deep breath he opens the door and steps through. "Are you ready my good little fans out there for today's challenge of 'Hung or Not." She giggles seductively into the camera. Her red lingerie accentuating her bust and matching the ruby red lipstick she was wearing. Her blond curls bouncing against her shoulders as she thrusts her hips towards the camera. "Our next contestant is all the way from sunny California and he thinks I can't accurately guess his cocks size. We will just have to prove him wrong today won't we?" She teased into the camera. Leaning forward and pushing her tits together to create a valley for her audience as she flips the switch to call him in. The door opens and he walks in and approaches her. Giggling she spreads her legs for him on approach. A damp spot clearly forming on her crotch. "Well aren't you just the cutest little thing." She coos motioning him to come closer. Positioning him in front of the camera and her behind him. Her hands start exploring his oiled up body. "Well let's see. Pale white skin but a farmers tan. You definitely don't hit those cali beaches." She teased him but directing her comments to the audience. "He doesn't have much of a bicep but that's not the size we care about here now is it?" She has done this show numerous times before and was starting to get bored with it. Most men were the same but her audience loved these cock size games. Men all most secretly want their girl to dominate them. Her mind drifts back to the present. Always the professional her distraction hadn't stopped her body from continuing her tears. Her hand grips the cock in his boxers. Her eyes go wide. Feeling the thick monster in her hands. "Now this is a surprise." Bigger than she expected. Glancing to the chat screen she can see her fans going crazy at the sight of his bulge. Pulling down his boxers the large cock bouncing free. Her eyes go wide as she licks her lips. "Well he definitely passed the first test. You are packing." She purrs stroking his cock. He shivers at her touch. "Inexperienced?" She thinks to herself. Picking up her fake dildo she shows it to the audience. "Well let's see how he matches up. Does he get to fuck my pussy?" Holding the dildo against his member her eyes go wide. It was actually bigger. Now it was her turn to be nervous. While she had given out blowjobs, fingered herself, and used dildos before. She had never actually fucked another person. It was why her fans tipped so much during these games. The chance to see Dirty_Ruby lose her virginity. "Well." Her shaky voice the only sign of her loosing her nerves. "Rules are rules.“ She purrs as she leans back. Sliding her panties off. Her bald pussy glistening. "Umm. I have never done this before." His nervous voice almost whispers. Glancing at the chat screen the tops are flooding in. She has never had so many viewers at once before. Her audience going crazy for this once in a life experience for these two. "It's okay baby just slide it in we will go slow at first." As she speaks her fingers open her pussy for all to see. Stumbling forward they both gasp as he starts to slide in. His size is bigger then anything she had ever experienced. Stretching her pussy wide. His slow agonizing pace his driving her pussy wild. By the time he fully enters her and his cock bottoms out her hips are shaking. "Fuck..." She moans. "I"m fucking cumming." Her hips shake as her hands grip the sheets. She can't believe she is cumming just by him entering her. Wrapping her arms and legs around him she pulls him close. Her embrace and convulsing walls are too much for his sensitive cock. His own orgasm following suit. Collapsing on top of her they lay there panting. Her lips connecting with his as they kiss. Her walls still trying to milk his softening cock. Breaking the kiss she turns towards her audience. "Well I guess Virgin Dirty_Ruby is no more. Thanks for watching. Tune in next time as I start training this cock to last much longer." His shocked eyes connect with hers. Now that she had tasted his cock she was never going to let it go. Leaning forward again she kisses him again ending the stream.

*During the last challenge this idea came to me but it quickly spiraled into a larger idea. The idea is kinda based on firefly/space exploration. The idea of the adventures of a small crew exploring space and getting into sexy adventures.* Step One: Collect a Crew Stein Cloud stood in his quarters looking in the mirror. His six foot frame filling the rooms little wash area. Giving his belt a tug he adjusts the blaster at his hip. Slipping his long brown duster on his shoulders. Admiring his look in the mirror he frowns. Brushing back his long brown hair into a ponytail he lets out a sigh. Getting his own ship was the easy part. Keeping it running was the challenge. His comms buzzed. Hitting the switch his second in commands voice "Captain we are approaching the drop." His second in command. Katrina was the strongest woman he knew. The muscular red head and him had been friends since childhood. Thick as thieves and getting into scraps. She would and has followed him anywhere. There was nobody he trusted more in any galaxy. He stood by all her decisions. Well all but one. "Captain I'm going to hold her as long as I can but there's a solar storm sweeping through and it's going to hit us soon. So unless you want to go surfing we should probably wrap this up" What she saw in the scrawny pilot he did not know. Grimes had been the first crew member they had recruited after getting the ship. The blond hair green eyed man was a Shio'iok. Which meant he had four arms. Now to his credit Stein had never ran across a better pilot in all his years but that didn't fix Grimes' attitude. Hitting the reply button he responds. "Roger that. Just do your best and I will see why the cargo isn't loaded yet." Exiting his cramped quarters he heads down towards the cargo hold of the ship. Passing the med bay a tail whips out. Wrapping around his waist and pulling him inside. His head falling into a pair of large pillowy breasts. Staring into her golden eyes. Her blond hair draping over his shoulders. "Captain dear. We need to talk about my specimen collecting. I am running low dear." "Khalie just give me a few days and we will make planet fall." His doctor, a Lutai, joined the ship as part of a study she was conducting. Visiting various plants collecting various specimens. He gets a free doctor and doesn't have to pay her as long as she regularly gets to collect. Quickly ducking out of the room before she can complain. Heading back to the cargo hold he meets up with his mechanic, Kara and her robot. She built the robot to be her friend as a child and it has been her constant, but silent, companion since. Approaching his mechanic he is about ready to be done with this shady job "Kara is the cargo ready to be dropped off?" Kara's blue eyes look up from the cargo. Dressed in her tank top and cargo pants a worried look crosses her face. "Uhh captain don't get mad butttt. The cargo started beeping." "What?" Looking down at the large container. This job just felt wrong. Panicking he starts hitting buttons on the case. This just made the problem worse. It started to beep faster. Then the solar storm hit. Rocking the ship violently back and forth. He new Grimes could only hold out so long. Right before he dumps the cargo and be done with the whole thing the crate begins to open. Tuning out Kara freaking out and the voices over the intercom he looks inside. "Quite!" He roars "Grimes take us out of here." Inside the cargo was a woman. Curled up in a ball. Fucking traffickers. If he knew this was the job he never would have taken it. Quickly with Kara's help he carries her to the med bay. She felt small in his arms. Like she hadn't been fed properly. Her long blue hair draped over naked frame. He tried not to feel her breasts pressing into him. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Laying her down on the doctors exam table he stepped back. Letting the doctor do her work. Who was this woman in the cargo and what was he going to do now.

For the first two minutes, Madison stood at the head of the small community center classroom, facing the door with a soft smile that threatened to break out into a giddy grin. It was the sort of look one gets while staring down at a wrapped Christmas present, knowing full well what lies under the paper but playing along until the moment comes to finally throw pretension aside. A touch anxious, she gave her hands something to do by smoothing out the red dress she'd bought for the occasion, an elegant wine red number that hugged her hips and showed enough skin to keep the atmosphere fun. Because that's what she was. She'd decided that months ago. She was smart and charming and fun, and she could prove it, damn it! She had been looking forward to hosting the wine tasting, her own little community event, for weeks, and now it was here—she was here. But as the posted start-time slipped by, Madison was the only one here. Five minutes past. Madison stepped off her mark and took a slow turn about the room. She adjusted the empty glasses, shuffling them by their stems and inspecting each for the smallest flaw. Next she gave little tweaks to the plates of cheddar, pecorino, and gruyere. She waved away a fly that had begun to circle the cool dish holding apricot and herbed goat cheese. She even came so far as the bruschetta platter lying in repose beside the citadel of gleaming wine bottles she'd selected for the event. It was a touch more than she'd budgeted for, but Madison wanted to make an impression. This was her new home and she was a new Madison. At ten minutes, she poked her head into the hall, a lock of her auburn hair falling loose from an artfully messy bun and over her ear as she poked up the corner of her glasses and gave a concerned look to the empty, tile hall, her eyes drawn toward the glass lobby wall and exterior doors facing the rising moon beyond. She had the right time, the sandwich board she'd spent the better part of an hour drawing the tasting event's details on—in fun and enticing calligraphy, no less—confirmed it. Madison picked at her fingertips, forcing herself to stop twice as she checked the event page online. Thirty-four people had marked that they were interested in coming. Thirty-four profile pictures of varying clarity and fidelity staring up at her with smiles that now seemed to say, 'You didn't really think we were coming, did you?' Fifteen minutes. Madison uncorked a bottle of Rosé, popping a tiny cube of gouda into her mouth as she strode to one of the short tables to fetch a glass. At twenty-eight minutes, she poured a second. Fuck it, Madison thought, topping the glass after a particularly vengeful tilt of her drink. Slumping into a seat, she shook her head, tugging a little at the bun that now felt irritating on her scalp. This was what she got for trying to be something she so clearly wasn't, her mind declared. That's what this meant, of course. Somehow they'd all sensed it through the invites and the follow-up details emails. Fun. Smart. Charming. At twenty-nine minutes, Madison decided a wine tasting wasn't going to prove she was any of those things to anyone anyway. And at thirty minutes, someone else walked in.

THE CHALLENGE For this challenge – a stripper, actor, camgirl, stage magician, or other performer gives the performance of a lifetime. Tell us the story! Deadline Midnight (EST) , 16 August 2025 Limits 1 entry per person no strict word limit, but please try to keep it around 2,000 words- remember, everyone has to read these to vote Prizes 1st Place: 4,000 EcchiCredits 2nd Place: 2,000 EcchiCredits 3rd Place: 1,000 EcchiCredits

The poll is up for Challenge 42

Critic There it goes again. The worst critic around. Nothing I do is good enough. "Who would want to see that, hear that, read that." The voice never tires. Always around. Never silent. I hate the search. The proof of my quality. The critic desiring praise from others. "Others are better so why even try." Ignore it I tell others to build them up Do it for yourself I council Push forward The act of doing is all that matters. Good or bad tell it to fuck off. That awful critic. Yourself.

You didn’t even know the drama program had a second storage room. The key the club secretary handed you was supposed to unlock the lighting closet… but the door you opened led somewhere very different. The space is small, close, lined with racks of costumes, layers of chiffon, lace, and tulle in every pastel color imaginable. Your sneakers squeak faintly on the polished floor as you step inside, the air thick with the powdery sweetness of fabric softener and something else… perfume, maybe. You’re halfway through awkwardly trying to put a ridiculous frilly dress back on its hanger when the door clicks shut. You turn slowly and she’s there... the drama department’s undisputed queen. Alpha female, leading lady, star of every production since her freshman year. Everyone knows her reputation: total immersion in every role, method acting so intense it blurs the line between performance and reality. She never breaks character, not even in the cafeteria. But right now, she’s not just the drama queen, she’s something else. Her eyes sweep over you, taking in your startled expression, the frilly dress in your hands, the fact that you are clearly somewhere you don’t belong. A slow, satisfied smile curls at her lips as she steps inside, shutting the door with a quiet, deliberate click. “You know,” she says softly, “I’ve been looking for someone to help me rehearse.” You swallow hard. “Rehearse… what?” Her gaze never wavers, a predator sizing up its prey. She strolls past you, brushing close enough for her perfume to cling to you. Then she begins leafing through the racks, pulling out pastel dresses, satin ribbons, lace-trimmed skirts. Each one is hung carefully on the mirror by the wall like a carefully chosen arsenal. “This next role of mine,” she continues, her voice smooth and unhurried, “requires… a wife. A subservient wife. Sweet, delicate, always dressed in frills and lace. The kind of wife who smiles prettily, speaks softly, and obeys without question.” She picks up a pair of delicate, ivory stockings from a shelf and lets them dangle from her fingers. Her smile deepens. “And lucky for you… I’ve decided you’re perfect for the part.” Her eyes lock on yours again as she closes the distance between you, step by deliberate step, until there’s nowhere left to back away. “Now,” she says, voice velvet and steel all at once, “be a dear… and take off those awful clothes; I have something much nicer for you to wear.”

//Ok. So two hours ago I threw out my original idea and decided to do this instead. Wheeee... Hopefully this matches at least one other person's weird. // Holographic koi fish broke into digital dust as Grinner shouldered his way past the projector. The chip-doc waved one silver arm across his face to break up some of the neon smoke filling his parlor, a momentary high making his vision choppy with static before the software in his head adjusted. “Would you not blow that shit right in my face? Thank you very much. Fucking manners with you cretins…” “Oh, I’m sorry, Grinner. Am I not allowed to smoke in your fucking chip-den?” Joey cackled and took another pull from his pack, crossing one combat-booted foot over his knee and jabbing an elbow into the couch to try and adjust the padding under its duct-tape upholstery. A high chirp of thin metal squeaked like a robotic cockatoo as a coil, a cobra sculpted out of straight-razors, arced through the air, stopping with the abrupt precision of a surgery-piece in front of Joey’s baby-blue naturals. The young runner froze, his lips fuzzing a long, buzzing J sound while he stiffened through the first syllable of “Jesus fucking Christ.” His back to Joey, the gaunt frame of Grinner’s torso was clear through the webbing of his pink fishnet top. Where his stomach should have been, the rest of his upper body was supported only by the stainless-steel column of his artificial spine. Wire-braided dreadlocks fell between loose cables trailing between the chip-doc’s skull and the various cabinets, servers, and drones in the cramped parlor to the point where it was unclear if Grinner was the man rooting through the bins or if this ghoul was just one more drone and Grinner was something else—maybe the chip parlor itself. Now that was a thought, Joey mused, the numbness in his blood turning his spike of fear and adrenaline into amusement as he let out a short, snorting laugh. The old psychopath wasn’t the first candyman Joey had been to by a long shot, but he was the only one who hadn’t tried to fuck him over yet or sold him some garbage-chip that loaded his headware with so many daemons he needed a fucking exorcism. And that alone should have been enough to put him on his best behavior. But boys who were good at behaving generally didn’t end up runners like him. “What’s the magic word?” Grinner growled, lifting a chip between chrome fingertips and inspecting it. “I’m a dick?” Joey flicked his thumb to kill the neon light on his pack, pocketing the piece with a sigh of relief as Grinner’s blades retracted into the small of his back, the extendable razor whip now folded no larger than a fingernail. “Good enough. Here.” Grinner tossed the chip to Joey, the small copper-plastic rectangle tumbling through the residual smoke a moment as it landed in the runner’s open palm. “Remember that battery-doll you used to date? She made that recording. It’s fresh too. I’ve only got a half-dozen imprints. Figured maybe you were looking to see some of what you’re missing out on.” The chip-doc cackled, a throaty, digitized sound as his native vocal chords ran through his plastic larynx’s off-kilter resonators. Joey grimaced and tossed the chip back. “Fuck off with that. Fucking dick.” His lip curled in disgust, but his eyes lingered where the chip landed. Truthfully, Grinner wasn’t that far off the mark. Joey had scored two solid pay-days and if he really wanted, he could have a real girl with that cash, maybe even one he didn’t have to pay by the hour. But that was still money. Cars. Drinks. Shows. And big spending meant going back on a run sooner rather than later. Joey’s fingers ran through his shaved side-fade up to the dirty blonde cut falling over his boyish features, the other hand feeling the nub of artificial scar tissue in his chest that told him he wasn’t ready… No, it was safer to ride it out with a chip to keep him company. “Look. I’m just trying to get a little RnR for a couple weeks. You got anything to… you know… keep morale up while I convalesce?” The black camera-lenses of Grinner’s eyes shuttered in a blink as he chuckled and turned back to the bins behind him. “Convalesce? Fucking hundred-credit word outta this guy. Better get you the fancy stuff.” “Grinner, I don’t need—” “No, no, your excellency. I have some top shelf shit here. What you lookin’ for? I got some new 47s… Acapulco Orange… You want something you can feel for daaays, I got this new strain of Kaleidoscope where you’ll swear you know what the fuckin’ moon tastes like. Or…” With a glance back, Grinner showed where his name came from, as his plastic jaw split to reveal a skeletal chrome jaw and a skull-like smile. “Maybe you and the battery-doll didn’t click because she’s not your type? I got Peter Pans here… Mary Sues… You got some pent up feels there, bud? Want some Bad Touch or some Snuffies?” Joey’s mouth worked in a tight grimace as he tried not to cuss out his last solid chip-dealer. “You actually have a recommendation, or do you need a few more minutes to bust my balls?” For a moment, Grinner froze in a pose eerily similar to a snake about to strike, and Joey felt his arm stiffen along with a sudden awareness of where his pistol lay against his ribs. “Yeah…” the chip-doc said at last. Dropping the chip in his fingers he lifted a cable and handed it to Joey. “Here. Have a few tastes—on the house. You can pick after… just put that towel under your junk.” There was a split second of hesitation where Joey weighed the pros and cons of refusing the heavily-cybered chip-doc’s offer. But only a moment. These parlors didn’t last if they turned every insult into a vendetta, and even sitting on his pay-days, Joey was far from the biggest fish Grinner could net if he wanted to turn his little den of depravity into a chop-shop for wayward runners. Joey accepted the cable, giving the parlor owner a soft nod of thanks as he relaxed and settled against the couch’s grim, lumpy backrest. A small whir of internal micro-servos confirmed the port in Joey’s shaved temple was empty and ready to load, and with a final, quick breath, he pressed the slender metal connector into place with that soft click that seemed to come from nowhere, his ears still confused after all these years on how it could come from inside his own head. Vertigo and swimming nerves flushed through him as his vision went black, and Joey felt that familiar dying sensation of his spine being ejected through his sphincter while his brain disconnected from his meat body. For two seconds, he felt the usual terror as he tried to breathe through lungs that were no longer connected to his brain in any meaningful way, having to trust that the chip’s basic LS drivers were keeping his sack of organs alive, or… in the worst case… that his headjack’s monitors were working well enough to dump him if he stopped breathing. Two… One… “Oh… Honey, you’ve been working so hard… Let me make it all better…” Joey blinked. The chip-den was gone. Concrete and chrome was replaced by linoleum and retro wooden furniture. He wasn’t sitting anymore. No, he was standing in what looked to be a kitchen full of bright sun and the clean smell of pine, lemon, and crackling bacon on an old-fashioned gas stove. His battle jacket was swapped for a brown sweater vest, and he had a wooden pipe in his mouth that added the warm smell of burning tobacco into the mix. At his waist, a woman in a blue dress was sliding to her knees. Perfectly manicured nails pulled at his belt as her blonde, beehive hairdo tilted back and wide blue eyes looked up into his with a breathy eagerness to please. “For everything you do for us, you deserve a little something just for you…” she purred. And Joey shivered as she reached into his trousers, pulling his cock free with a teasing caress along the base with her thumb. She made a wide O with her mouth, feigned surprise and delight played up with a girlish gasp of “Oh my!” Still disoriented, Joey barely moved, only shuddering and stiffening in place as her lips pressed to his tip and he felt the warm wet of her tongue in the little triangle where the head split. Distantly, he realized this body he was in was circumcised, the thought feeling laughably detached as his hand instinctively reached around the woman… no, his ‘wife’s’ head, tangling in her tightly kept beehive. His head lifted as Joey felt the tight pressure of her sucking him in between her lips. But he couldn’t focus on that. Over his head, translucent blue words were hovering in the air, and below them a number was steadily ticking downward. Wedding Bells – v6.043 … 4… 3… 2… 1… The room exploded around him as Joey felt his wife’s head atomized around his cock. He screamed, a feeling like falling making his arms flail, though he didn’t ‘exactly’ have arms anymore. Sizzling bacon and lemon-scented cleaner became sweat and liquor as his scream dissolved under a thrumming bass line. Joey blinked. He was seated again. This time he was on a soft faux-leather couch in a dark room that pounded with club music. A woman with cyan curls and built like a wet dream strutted forward in glittering heels. Her full, teardrop breasts bounced with the demand of each step as her hips swayed to show the dim light catching on her shining thong as she tugged the knot and allowed it to fall away. Glittering fingernails swept over her stomach as her hips slowly rotated, showcasing her bare pussy’s little, chubby lips for a full eight seconds before she swept forward. One heel planted on the couch beside Joey, and looking down, he saw this body already had its cock out—not his cock, but one near enough, apart from the upward ‘brontosaurus’ bend in its shaft. Next, her hand gripped the back of the seat over his shoulder, her chest pressing to his face as he instinctively opened his mouth like an infant and took her nipple between his lips. “Yeah… You want it, baby?” she teased, lowering herself down until her pussy kissed his eager tip, rocking back and forth in tight, controlled circles while Joey sedately nodded and murmured a ‘yes’ through a mouth that refused to open. Fingernails pinched his cheeks, forcing his chin up, and Joey gasped as she whispered into his ear, “Beg for it,” accompanying the words with a bite to his earlobe. Joey would have replied, but he was too distracted by the translucent text overhead. “Oh, come on!” Nova – v3.012 …2… 1… …Arnold - v1.893 Joey’s musclebound arm extended, tangling in her dark curls. Her torn linen dress flapped around his legs as he took her from behind, the wooden table he bent her over shifting forward with every thrust. The smell of gunfire and iron mixed with smoke, and Joey felt the rattle of his rifle on his back as their bodies clapped together to the rhythm of her squeals, a sound riding an uncanny line that was not quite pleasure—a line he did not inspect too closely as the powerful body he was in reveled in the control of holding the girl’s squirming body down. …Drone - v4.001 Joey didn’t have a body. He could see, but he didn’t understand how. It was like he was a security camera viewing himself from the outside. Only he wasn’t himself… He was only a cock… a meaty dildo being passed around a circle of giggling college girls as they leaned on pillows in a surreal and wobbly representation of a sorority bedroom, skirts and night gowns pulled high as Joey felt his spectral body tense and groan each time the Joey-do was pushed, kissed, and caressed between the loving sisters. …Gazpacho - v2.224 Chains rattled on an iron bedframe. The damp smell of wet concrete and stale sweat filled his nose… Joey screamed the entire time he held the chainsaw. …Avocado - v7.988 The beautiful people in black rabbit masks eyed Joey as he lifted the perfectly cooked steak to his lips. The taste of food, actual food—not the synth shit he lived on in the real world—brought a tear to his eyes. He cried, but the woman beneath the table did not seem to mind. …WindUpToy – v1.000 He was in a bed. There was no preamble to this one, instead Joey could feel immediately that he was inside of her. Her breasts pressed to his chest as her legs coiled around his hips. One chromed knee sent a shiver through Joey’s ribs as he melted against her, collapsing forward in a blind kiss. Her lips were full and warm, kissing him back as fingers like porcelain rode up his back and held him by his shoulders, pulling him down into her in steady, slow motions—like rolling waves dragging him out to sea. Joey moaned as he felt the pulse of vibration and the peristalsis coil of her sex working his shaft and tip like little fingers, a pussy as dexterous and playful as a blowjob. It was unique cyber, but not uncommon. Battery-dolls. That’s what they called the chromed-out girls on the corner. He kept his eyes closed. Pressing into her, his arms shivering as he wrapped her tight under him, Joey didn’t open them again. He didn’t dare. He only kept thrusting, his hips pistoning as his breath grew short, sharp and angry along with the tears squeezing out the corners of those shut eyes. …2… 1… Joey gasped and choked, heaving up from the couch as if he’d been stabbed, his erection painful as his jeans strangled him with the violence of his awakening. Across the parlor, Grinner was exchanging one of the dozen cables running from his skull. “Enjoy your trip? Anything catch your eye?” The lidless black lens shuttered in a wink. “I got full experience on all of those.” Retching, Joey leaned forward, lowering his head into his hands. With shaking hands, he drew out his pack again, inhaling a fluorescent cloud of neon vapor and smoke. Grinner clucked and shook his head. “Fucking light-weight.”

I tried. I really did. I procrastinated for numerous days, trying to think of something sci-fi, even as fantasy threatened to infect this idea too. In the end, I came up with this. I will admit, I did...maybe rush a bit, since I started on August 29th, then spent 2 days playing stuff for RetroAchievements, and now Discord Wars is probably going to have my attention for a while in August. Also, I reused the setting from Challenge 10, so more of Axiom Labs being so morally evil it's not even funny. "For an old Axiom facility, this place was way too well guarded. Makes you wonder what they're trying to hide," a man muttered to himself, kicking the remains of one of the many robots that had come and tried to kill him and his companion. He turned to face her, a woman with short black hair clad in a light blue bodysuit. Two gun-like drones floated in the air closely next to her. Bruno had no clue how she could control them so well, but he had long since come to assume they were just something she could do. "Dr. Cain was always a very cautious man," the woman simply replied. "Of course he was. Those Axiom bigwigs all seem to be like that. I guess being at the top means always jumping at shadows. Is the place we're after much further, Sophia?" Bruno replied while the black haired woman walked past him, paying no mind to the piles of scrap littered about the metal floor. "The terminal containing the data we seek is not much further. I also do not detect any more security," Sophia said. Bruno let out a sigh of relief and put a hand on the woman's shoulder. "That's some good news. Let's get going quick so we can be rid of this place," Bruno said, giving Sophia a thumbs up and walking on ahead of her. The pair moved down the halls in silence, only the sound of their footsteps echoing through the old facility. Many of the lights in the halls refused to turn on, but the old facility's security robots had still been running ever since the building had been abandoned by Axiom Labs. However, a tip had arrived to the fixer, Bruno, that secret information on Axiom's big Ark Project II remained in the data banks of the facility. Two days later, him and one of his companions, Sophia, took a couple of hover bikes to the old facility to try securing the data. Following Sophia's advice, the pair finally reached their destination, a massive room full of monitors and terminals. In the center of the room was a large, empty stasis tube. Upon their arrival in the room, Sophia's gaze was drawn to the stasis tube in the center. She knew it well, as it was the very same one she had spent a number of days inside of in her past, as one of Axiom's experiments. It had been thanks to Bruno that she had been freed, but not before they had managed to do enough to make her feel less than human. Her gaze turned to a large, dark red spot on the floor. It had been the very place where Dr. Cain, the Axiom scientist behind the experiments, had died by her own hands. She couldn't forget the way he laughed at her in his final moments. Sophia's body started to shake, but before long, she felt a hand lightly pat her on the head. When she looked up, Bruno was standing in front of her, giving her a reassuring smile. Sophia didn't hesitate to move closer to Bruno and wrap her arms around him in a hug. "It's going to take some time to transfer the data. Whatever this Ark Project II is supposed to be, the security on it's pretty tight. What the hell are those guys thinking, anyway? The Ark collapsing is what caused all the problems, anyway. Do they really want to make that happen again?" Bruno explained. After taking her time in Bruno's embrace, the pair took a seat near the terminal containing the data they sought. Due to powerful security, the hacking disc the pair had brought along would require time to get the data they needed. When Sophia didn't say anything in response, Bruno looked around the room. "Nothing but bad memories in this place, huh? When we met, you almost looked like you were ready to end it all," he added. "It was thanks to your and Ms. Lucia's kindness that I'm still here. I can't thank either of you enough," Sophia finally said. Bruno gave a simple shrug. "It's like I told you back then. It's a fixer's job to handle things like this. Axiom snatched you away from your home, treated you like a guinea pig, and messed with your head and body. Getting one over on them was the least I could do," he said. "A fixer's job..." Sophia muttered to herself before turning to face Bruno. "Then, can I make a request of you, as a fixer?" she asked. She slowly moved in closer to him. "I will likely never forget the things that happened here. But at the very least, I would like to have one good memory of this place," she continued, reaching out and putting a hand on Bruno's thigh. Even though her voice lacked any distinct emotion due to Axiom's mental experiments, Bruno knew what it was she was talking about. It wasn't long before Sophia's light moans rang out in the room. The bodysuit she had been wearing had been carelessly discarded on the floor while the woman herself was bent over in front of one of the deactivated terminals. Even though her body looked to be ordinary flesh, her skin was cold as metal. Even as he thrust inside of her, Bruno couldn't feel the distinct warmth that came with a normal human body. To many, they would call Sophia a living weapon made by Axiom Labs, with all aspects of a normal person stripped away. Bruno saw her the same as anyone else, and was determined to give her what she wanted. While Sophia was trying to keep her attention on Bruno's cock thrusting into her, the sensors in her head were constantly going, and they had detected an incoming presence. Reflected in the inactive monitor was the hallway Bruno and Sophia had come from, and Sophia spotted a figure approaching. One of her drones was quick to fire a shot towards the approaching figure, and a loud thud echoed into the room, as if a large metal object hit the floor. "Another robot? I thought we had gotten them all," Bruno said. When he spotted the approaching machine in the terminal's reflection, he had already pulled out of Sophia's pussy and reached for his weapon. He took a couple of steps towards the hallway until he felt something grab his hand. When he turned around, Sophia was staring at him. "There are no other machines approaching. But why did you stop? I had thought it was a fixer's duty to see things through to their end," Sophia said, trying to use Bruno's own personal code against him. 'It's weird when she gets like this. You'd think Axiom's mental conditioning would shut down acting like this. Maybe they're not as perfect as they think,' Bruno thought to himself. He shrugged and turned back towards Sophia. "Sorry. I should've known you'd have our backs, but we can't be too careful with Axiom's machines, you know. Come on, we'll finish up over here," Bruno replied, leading Sophia by the hand to a corner of the room. He sat down on the floor, his back against the cold metal wall. Sophia quickly got the hint and put her hands on his shoulders, lowering herself onto his hard cock and letting it enter her again. Her cold body pressed up against his as she began moving her hips. Even as she moved up and down, lightly moaning in Bruno's ear, he felt something was different from earlier, despite her clear lack of emotional change. Between her body pressed up against him and her cold breath on his ear, Bruno felt himself getting close to his limit. "Sophia, I'm cumming!" Bruno said. He held Sophia close to him as he filled her pussy with his cum. Her arms wrapped around him as he did. Even after Bruno had finished, Sophia refused to move off of him. She instead laid her head on his shoulder, saying nothing. Bruno didn't say anything and pulled her into a hug. He didn't know how long they stood together like that before an automated voice rang out from the active terminal. "Data transfer has completed," the voice said in a cold, mechanical tone. After taking the time to clean up and destroy the terminal once the pair was sure the data was transferred to the proper place, Bruno and Sophia made their way out of the old facility back outside to where their hover bikes waited. Before Bruno got onto his bike, he turned towards the old facility again, then back to Sophia, who had been staring at the old building. "I had spent a great number of days in this facility. I do not have many good memories of this place," Sophia began. After a short pause, she turned to face Bruno. He froze when he saw the expression on her face. It was faint, but a smile crossed Sophia's usually emotionless face. "But it is thanks to you and Ms. Lydia that I was freed from this place and can choose my own path." Bruno couldn't help but smile and walked over to Sophia, putting a hand on her head. "And whatever you want to do with that path, you know me and the others will be with you until the end," Bruno said. After a couple of seconds of silence, Bruno moved his hand and turned back towards the hover bikes. "Speaking of the others, Benny should be done getting all that data together by the time we get back to the village. We should get going," Bruno added. Sophia gave a simple nod and turned away from the facility, making her way towards her own bike. The two rode away from the old facility, never looking back. Even though Bruno didn't know for sure if the shadows of Sophia's bad memories had been fully dispelled, they had at the very least accomplished what they had originally sought. 'The Ark Project II. What exactly is it? What is Axiom Labs up to, bringing back the old Ark Project?' Bruno wondered, but at that moment, he would be left pondering on the end goal of the labs who controlled a majority of a world brought to it's knees following the fall of The Ark.

Attention. That's what's caught In the few inches your skull shifts, His fist in your hair, vision blurring Just before the e-brake strain of neck tendons. Just before the slap that ignites oil-red blood, Eyes defiant, brain gone feral, and your stupid, Stupid mouth about to say something that's so-- you. Something you heard in a porno while your fingers, Loud inside of you like dual exclamation points, Wrote them into you, bringing you to life, Animating your clay body--the golem whore, Pygmalion in an Iron Maiden t-shirt Pinching off a roach stained in black lipstick. Your thoughts were somewhere else, But now they're here, on him. Just like your hands. Just like your mouth. Just like your pussy. Attention. And you're caught In the slam of your elbow connecting with the wall, The 'fuck-you' energy of shoving his chest knowing He's too large to move while his own push moves you, The sharpness of teeth, hands pulling your collar, A fishing net dragging you, limbs collapsing together, And the lawless physicality of torn skinny-jeans, Tank tops, and boots you're not sure you want to kick off Or stomp into. Unsure Because the anarchy in your blood that makes you struggle, That brings your legs together just so he'll force them apart, It tells you there's shattered glass under you. But you are an animal of steaming skin, bare fangs and tongue, and bleeding-- Bleeding is just one more thing this undomesticated body does. Just like fucking. Just like singing. Just like murder and pain and painkilling. Attention. Fading fast. He tries to get it back, but you've called yourself worse. It's a sort of native language--intuitive and thoughtless. Just like ordering your drink. Just like that final wordless groan. Just like calling your reflection 'you' Because it's better than being alone.

Abduction in the night Beatrice leaned against the barn letting out a tired sigh. Looking over at her favorite horse she smiles "Well Buttercup another day's chores done. Another awkward dinner with a potential suitor." Her parents were desperate to get her married off. "Twenty years old and still not married what is wrong with you." Mocking her sisters voice in a high pitched nasally voice. She had always felt like an outcast in her community. She loved working with the animals, being in the woods, and nature overall. She hated people and the idea of becoming a farmers wife gave her the willies. Looking up at the night sky she felt incredibly small in the vast sky. Her loneliness pours out of her as a single tear starts forming in her eye. A flash of light across the sky breaks her moment of self pity. It moved in an unnatural way. Jaggedly going back and forth like it was searching for something or someone. The light disappears over the forest. Curious she heads off in search of it. It seemed to be heading towards the lake deep in the forest. Crawling through the thick underbrush her dress getting torn and ripped. Her long auburn hair getting tangled in the brush. She didn't know why she was so franticly heading towards this light. She just knew something I side her was yearning for it. Her pace frantic she gets caught on a branch. Fearing to lose sight of it she pulls hard. Her dress ripping in two. Rushing on she leaves her dress like she was shedding the skin of her old life. She didn't know how but something inside her told her she was never going back. With a final push she breaks out into the shore of the lake. Standing there breathing hard in nothing but her underwear. Her bright emerald colored eyes spy the creature. Bathed in an otherworldly light the seven foot tall creature was sniffing the air. His ash colored skin had highlights of a bright red pattern. He looked vaguely humanoid with long talented feet and arms ending in claws. His tail whipping around she could see what looked almost like a plants mouth at it's tip. With it's long tongue snaking out to small the air. Turning towards her she let out a gasp. It's bare head turned towards her. It looked like a face minus the mouth and it's eyes stared deep in her soul. Two black swirling pools of darkness. She felt compelled to walk towards it. Not out of fear or curiosity. Something more primal. She could feel her underwear getting damp with anticipation. Soon they were both standing on the lake shore bathed in this otherworldly light. "Hello." It's deep voice echoed in her mind. Then with a flash they were gone and she was blacking out. Waking up in a room that did not look of this earth she shivers. Feeling around she feels her bedding. A fabric not unlike silk bedding. Feeling her body she realizes she is naked her underclothes are gone. Looking around the dim room she tries to make sense of her surroundings. Then the door opens and he walks in. "Up already. Sorry teleportation is always rough the first time." His vice echoes in her mind. His black pools of eyes are staring into hers like they are reading her whole life story. "What...do you...want from me." Her voice shaking as she speaks. Not of fear but almost like her deepest desires are starting to creep out. "I am in search of what you might call a mate." The voice responds and for the first time she looks down at his whole body. Gasping she sees two massive spined cocks protruding out of his groin. "And you want me?" She is surprised at her words. She had always resisted her parents push for her to get married but her and now with this alien she was wanting nothing more. She needed to feel him inside her to bear his children. "Yes." The unblinking eyes responded. In a moment he descended on her his twin cocks rubbing the outside of her damp pussy. Her nipples erect in anticipation of his touch. His tail mouth opens up. Licking her skin as he taste the salty sweaty body. His tail moves up her body leaving a trail of saliva up to her nipples. His clawed hands gripping her buttox gently but firmly. She lets out a long hidden moan. How many nights had she sat at that lake edge. Fingering her pussy waiting for something to break the monotony of her simple life. Her hips grinded against his cocks. Her mouth moaning to his claws digging in to her cheeks. "Fuck me...breed me...claim me." She moaned desperate to feel him in some her. Without speaking he followed her demands. Pulling back he thrusts both his cocks inside her. One in her pussy and one in her ass. His mouth unlatching from her nipples rises up and gives her a kiss while sucking on her tongue. She whimpers feeling his massive cocks stretching her holes. Hi soft but firm spines rubbing her insides bringing her to the edge of climax. Grinding hard she clutches his back. Digging her nails into his hard exterior. "Fuck..." She moans into his mouth as her hips begin to shake. Her insides clamping down on his shafts her body convulses. Her orgasm is like nothing she had ever experienced before. Her whole body desired nothing more than him. He doesn't let up as the orgasmic wave wracks her body. Thrusting and grunting in her mind. His voice penetrates her mind wrapping it in a blanket. "I'm cumming." His voice moans in her brain as his seed coats her inside white. His cum is thick and surely as it oozes outside of her holes. "Still conscious Beatrice?" His mind asks her as she comes down from another orgasmic wave. "Mmm...Yes my love." She responds. Knowing she will never be able to go back to her life before this. This was her new reality being the mate to this alien. "Good." He responds as his thrusting continues. Laying in a pool of his cum. She doesn't know how long they fucked but it felt like it lasted forever. The number of orgasms she had. The number of times he filled her womb with cum. she must be pregnant by now. At last he slid out of her satisfied that he was pregnant. Before her eyes he shifted into a human form. Tall, muscular, still well hung. He laid in the bed next to her. His lips moved like they were unused to talking out loud. "Well are you ready to be my mate and be the mother of my children." He had left out so much and she had so many questions but at the same time she new they had time to answer. Rubbing her belly she also knew she was definitely pregnant. Putting his hands over hers she murmurs to him "yes my love and I can't wait to meet little Victor." She doesn't know why but she knows for sure a little boy alien was growing in her as they spoke. As they lay in bed she can feel her body starting to change. To become something new. As she drifted off into sleep her nails grew into claws. As her eyes start to close they briefly shift into inky black pools of darkness.

never once looked inward For years I told myself I was better than the things I did. Better than the nights I didn’t remember. Better than the names I never learned. Better than the girl crying in the rearview mirror, mascara running down her face. I told myself it didn't matter. I told myself I was just trying to feel something. Anything. I talked a lot about damage. About how I’d been broken, left, used. And I was. I had been. But I did some breaking too. I hurt people who were kind to me. Used them the way I felt used. Cheated on the ones who tried. Lied for no reason except to see if I could get away with it. I made vulnerability a trapdoor. Made tenderness a dare. I laughed at softness. Scoffed at the girls who waited for love as if it was supposed to arrive like a bus on schedule or maybe just a few minutes late. Even now I want to make this pretty. Wrap it in metaphor. Tell you about dresses I wore instead of the skin I shed. But the truth is I wasn’t the victim as often as I claimed. I put myself there knowing what would happen. I wanted power. Wanted it so badly I mistook cruelty for control. Mistook attention for affection. Mistook myself for someone I could trust. Now, I water the plants and feed the cats. I kiss one woman, over and over, like prayer. I try to remember how to forgive the girl who wore my face and never once looked inward. She thought she knew, thought she knew it all. She wasn’t a liar, not really. She was just a long, aching story I wasn’t ready to tell.

This one is definitely less Bukowski inspired, but it's newer and I haven't felt like the girl who wrote that old stuff for a long time. Who knows, maybe I finally found my own voice. if i could reach her There were too many nights, too many hands, too many back rooms thick with smoke and names I never learned. I said yes like it meant I was winning something. Like it would stitch me together instead of pulling me apart, thread by red thread. I wasn’t wild, not really. I was just tired of being nothing but bones and waiting. So I gave myself away like free matches in a bowl by the door, take one, light it, walk away. Now I sit with tea, clean pajamas, the quiet kindness of age, and I want to go back not to scold her, not to shame her, but to touch her face, say, it doesn’t have to hurt like this. Say, you don’t owe them your body just because you feel empty. She wouldn't believe me. She’d laugh, pull some stranger into her mouth just to feel something spark. But still, I’d sit with her in that place, hold her hair, and say her name like a promise someone should have kept.

Night When the dreams won't come and the mind won't quiet. The thoughts come unending and doubt creeps in. Did I say it right or wrong? Is it me or is it others? Do I not hear the snickers, whispers, and words? When did the world learn this code, this movement, this way of being. I don't understand? Why didn't I? I toss and I turn. I doubt and I worry. I'm not good enough, others are better. The mind remembers all The memories come flooding - Mistake, Mistake, Mistake Failure, Failure, Failure Imposter - fake - charlatan Sleep comes when your not looking Peace comes when you don't fight Day banishes the stars of the night But the stars are still there. The doubts are still there. And night always follows day

...and new challenge is posted!

THE CHALLENGE Write your tale to the theme "sci-fi seductions" - include alien sex, pleasure technology, synthetic bodies, space station encounters, or whatever your kinky little heart desires! Deadline Midnight (EST) , 2 August 2025 Limits 1 entry per person no strict word limit, but please try to keep it around 2,000 words- remember, everyone has to read these to vote Prizes 1st Place: 4,000 EcchiCredits 2nd Place: 2,000 EcchiCredits 3rd Place: 1,000 EcchiCredits

Winners have been posted for Challenge 41!

Annabelle was on fire. No, she was fire. As her mentor caressed her hips and over her ribs with those beautiful hands, still slightly tacky from the sugar and dough she'd been working with only moments before, Annabelle felt the echoing rush of the two inexplicably swift orgasms she'd received in less time than it took to roll out a tray of bagels. The sensation of Miss Elizabeth's tongue gliding up between her folds, curling as it pushed hard to seek after her retreating clit, drew a panting shiver from the younger woman, and Annabelle's lips parted in a cracked whimper as her hips squirmed and she tried to keep her trembling knees apart. Miss Elizabeth was not satisfied though, she continued eagerly, hungrily. It was indescribable, unimaginable... it was... it was... No, it was actually unbelievable. Through the haze of pleasure, Annabelle blinked in confusion. She wanted this, and she knew from her own fingers and her blushing, night-time fantasies about the dark-haired baker what her body was like. This was something else. This was— Her pale eyes shot wide, and Annabelle's shoulders pushed to the floor as her back lifted and her legs tensed in a seizing third climax. Her bare, freckled butt slapping the tile floor, she squeezed her eyes closed and swallowed her moaning long enough to whimper, "M-Miss Eliza-Elizabe-th?" Her answer, a hot groan against her pussy, pulled Annabelle's neck forward, her eyes fluttering as she bit her lip to steady herself, clearing her head with a sharp grunt. "I-I think some-something's w-wr... Something's wro—" It was at that moment that Annabelle's eyes landed on the spilled bowl of icing that had splashed on her, the icing Miss Elizabeth had tasted from her fingertip. Beside it, under the counter where Annabelle had been working, was the white bag of powdered sugar she'd used. She could even read the printed lettering, though the top of the bag drooped over it: POWDERED S— One hand tangled in Miss Elizabeth's hair, the other rose tremulously, reaching for the white sack and pushing aside the folded edge of the bag. And Annabelle felt a moment of panicked dismay for one fleeting second before a fourth orgasm sent her hands behind her head, clutching at the tile against the ripples of liquid pleasure rolling up and down through her. The bag's lip pushed back, the text was now clearly legible: POWDERED SEX

Yes! Please do. If you drop something in Our Stories, I will read it

As Aiden roughly grabs at Serava's tail and tugs her whole body tenses. Her crimson tail turning a bright shade of pink. Tail arts was her worst subject at the Infernal Academy for Seduction Arts. She was not ready for his forceful grip on her tail. "Please let...go of my tail." She stutters out. Her cheeks blushing the same color her tail now was. Her heart begins beating faster. This was not how the books said it would go. He was supposed to be trembling. Begging her to touch him. Here he was handling her sensitive tail so roughly. "That is so cool he gasps." He is in full geek mode now. The uncomfortable erection in his pants aside he had to know what her tail was made of. "Your tail is so warm and the feeling of it is..." Pulling her tail towards him she gets spun around. Loosing her balance again she falls to her hands and knees ass pointing in the air. Her skirt falls over exposing her privates. He is oblivious to the fact she is not wearing underwear. His entire focus is on her tail. Running his fingers along it he marvels at its texture. "How do you have it attached?" He gives it a few hard tugs. Following it down he seems to notice for the first time her naked lower half. Just having started university and not used to being around people. Especially people of the other gender. He became flustered and embarrassed. Pulling on her tail as he is trying to back away. He doesn't realize he is still holding it. "Stop tugging on....my...ahhh." Her voice rings out filling the empty lecture hall. Her body convulses as he brings her to orgasm. Her pussy squirting out and spraying him. In shock he finally lets go of her tail. Embarrassed she scrambles to her feet running out of the room. After a moment he regains his senses. "But wait your shoes..." He picks up her stilettos and chases after her.

Annabelle blinked to refocus, turning her palm down and rubbing her eye with the back of her wrist. The sun had gone down hours ago, but the fair would come the next day whether she was ready or not. Looking up from the floured counter, the apprentice baker gazed across the prep area to where Miss Elizabeth was turning out smart little pastries in the shape of flowers. The older woman's graceful hands, moving swift as swallows, pinched the dough and laid it out in rows as neat as tiny soldiers standing in file. And by the smell of it, she'd already moved a platoon-full to the oven. She was truly a marvel to behold, and as Annabelle watched in amazement, she couldn't help but notice the way her dark-haired master-baker didn't seem the least bit tired despite the hour. No, in fact, she could see the edge of her black apron swaying just a little as Miss Elizabeth hummed quietly to herself. Annabelle had never known anyone like her. Elegant and beautiful and yet so warm. Biting her lip, the apprentice found her stare lingering on her teacher once again. Last week, Annabelle had felt her ears burning as Miss Elizabeth leaned over her shoulder, her palm pressing the back of her hand as she wove her fingers through Annabelle's and showed her how to better work the fragile filo pastry. She had such lovely hands... A few days before that, she had to bite her tongue to keep from squeaking as the older woman took her hips to shift her a moment, moving her with a gentle nudge to reach the storage where Annabelle had been standing. She did this often, little touches and guiding pulls as she passed in the close-quarters of the small bakery. And each time she did, it seemed to stop time and pull all of Annabelle's mind to where she'd been touched, the echo of it lingering in her skin. But none of these fleeting memories compared to the time she'd been rolling out the dough and Miss Elizabeth had stepped behind her, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and taking her hands in hers to move the rolling pin for her, teaching her by touch, her chin over Annabelle's shoulder as she gave her instructions in that sweet voice right beside her ear. Suddenly a cloud of flour shot up as Annabelle's grip slipped. With a shocked squeal, her elbow collided with the icing bowl she'd set aside to firm, sending a spray of white over her apron, her chin and across her nose. And as the metal bowl rolled off and clattered to the floor, Annabelle froze. Her cheeks flushed, and a glimmer of tears formed in the corner of her eyes as embarrassment and fatigue rushed together into her face. "Annabelle? Are you all right?" Her teacher set down the little tart she'd been folding and crossed the room. But before Annabelle could think of a reply, Miss Elizabeth's look took in the situation and with a light, nearly silent laugh, she reached up and took a fingertip of icing from the tip of Annabelle's nose, inspecting it in gentle amusement.

“Target acquired.” Serava Nightwhisper, proud first-year student of the Infernal Academy for Seduction Arts, stood confidently in the mortal realm, one stiletto heel planted on a desk. Her crimson tail flicked with purpose. Her barely-there uniform was technically school-appropriate… if the school was within one of the provinces of Hell. In the mortal realm, the amount of bare flesh revealed would be considered scandalous at best. Her body was her weapon, and showing it was firing the first shot. Across the room sat her target: a mortal boy. Glasses. Books. Faint scent of vanilla shampoo. “You are in the presence of a succubus,” Serava purred, her voice sultry, like a chocolate fountain you’re not supposed to touch. “Tremble, mortal. Swoon. Submit.” He blinked. “...are you in drama club?” She staggered, tail going stiff. “What...?! No! I am your worst, but also most delicious, nightmare!” He raised a brow. “You walked into the classroom wearing that and expected me to tremble?” “No, I expected you to... ugh! ...listen, it’s my first field assignment, okay? You’re supposed to fall for me! I studied all the poses!” She dropped her shoulder, arched her back, and leaned forward with a smoky gaze, textbook “Succubus Tier 1: Beginner’s Seduction Stance.” ...except that the desk leg she was leaning on gave a soft creak. CRACK. She yelped, stumbled, rolled, and landed face-first into his lap. Silence. She froze. He froze. Her cheek was definitely... against... something. He stared down, expression unreadable. “Um…” She exploded upward like a spring-loaded bat out of hell, hands flying to her flaming-red cheeks. “I-didn't mean to do that! Don’t read into it!” He tilted his head. “...Did you just go all tsundere on me?” “No!!” but yes. Serava scrambled backward, knocking over a chair, tail tangled in the leg. Her wings flapped once, then folded tightly behind her back. This was not how her mentor said it would go. “I practiced in the mirror for weeks!” she said, sniffing, holding back tears. “I whispered dark temptations! I did the hip sway thing!” “You did sway,” he admitted. She glared, but then asked, “seductively?” “More like someone trying to sneak a watermelon past airport security.” Serava shrieked in indignation. Her blush somehow deepened. “You... you’re supposed to be powerless against me!” He smiled. “Maybe I like flustered girls better... I'm definitely more interested now.” She made a choked sound in her throat and immediately tripped over her own tail trying to flee, falling onto her back, legs splayed out, staring up at him, her micro skirt riding dangerously high, stiletto's sliding across the floor ineffectually as she tried to pull herself together.

I won't lie, I definitely wrote a lot of poetry trying to channel Charles Bukowski... or at least that's what it looks like in hindsight. I know I read a lot of Bukowski back then, because he felt like home. I think at the time I was trying to mine my life for the words that would paint what I felt, and no other style of writing aside from confessional diary entries seemed to make anything stick. But like most poetry, everything I wrote was pretentious, filled with weak attempts to describe emotion and life with mere words, as if words alone could convey the smells, the textures, the feelings,...physical or emotional. They can't, but sometimes they suggest enough to evoke something that might mimic what your particular experience tells you the author might have felt, and I guess that's close enough for mere mortals. I found a lot of stuff from the old days. A box of notebooks, thumb drives, and a few old laptop hard drives, two of which I could access with the help of a tech friend. There's stuff on there that is terrible, but some that's okay. You can see my inspiration - Bukowski is a massive influence, some might say I ripped off his style, and I definitely did, or tried to, in a lot of those writings, even if unintentionally. But also paintings that are mostly garbage, but sometimes inspired, clearly influenced by Mary Abbott and Elaine de Kooning... sketches where it looks like I'm in high school trying to draw still life without lifting my pencil, collages where it looks like I was just paste and angst on a bad drug trip, but sometimes inspired. Anyway... I'll share some of that stuff here. Poems that still make me embarrassed, not for what they try to convey, but for the weak attempt at conveying it, and mostly in someone elses' style, even if I tried to make it my own voice. Maybe I'll start with a hopeful one.

Post all your questions, comments, and discussions here.