Hello, fellow readers and/or writers of sexy stories. Welcome to /elit/, now under new management.
I'm lola, and I'll be your moderator here.
Feel free to come in, put your feet up, and jerk off to our fine selection of smut.

Maybe you're here to request something you've read before, or perhaps you've written a story of your own that you'd like to post. No matter what you are here for, I'd just like to lay down a few quick rules.

1. Please be courteous to the other people here. This means no derailing threads. Criticism, of course, is fine but it should be constructive. We don't want to scare off people who could potentially be amazing writers someday.

2. Don't do anything against site rules. (No CP, don't spam, and advertising is discouraged.) This should go without saying.

3. If you're posting a story that isn't yours, please explicitly state so in your post.

That's about all there is. I'd like you to keep in mind that if you do see something that violates #2, go ahead and report it so it can be taken care of as soon as possible.

I have a soft spot in particular for this board, and I'd like /elit/ to be a place that encourages as many users as possible to contribute.

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How about a few request threads?

First, let's clean this board up a bit. Any requests for thread deletion due to quality/inactivity?

I might suggest a mod stickie this thread, or make one like it so we can start placing requests, and possibly rebuilding our /elit/ back to it's old standards.

I wanted to know if anyone remembers a story about a girl that gets inducted by a crack job scientist that implants a little blue tentacle into her, and then she somehow gets free, and goes home, but starts noticing things like enhanced stamina, and powerfull night vision (ability to see infrared spectrum). The original picture was alot the same as I have posted, and was a blue tentacle but with white suckers on it, if that helps. It was here on 99 before the crash, and I'm not sure if it was ever finished or what have you, but I am interested in finding that story again. Any help is much appreciated.

since she didn't consider Eurasian boys to be men, on her return trips to Morroco, she would have Elliot sleep in the women's concubine quarter in the harem. It sounds hot being with a bunch of naked harem slaves. But he wasn't considered a man, he was treated as a cunt-slave himself. Harem slaves are notoriously catty, and they had never seen a Eurasian femboy before. They loved lording it over him, and tormenting him like he was just another girl. He was basically forced to serve as a Eunuch in a Moroccan harem.

harems are supposed to be the happiest place on earth. Elliot couldn't even get laid in a Moroccan harem. Even concubine slaves just considered him a fellow harem sister and abused his tiny manhood. or boyhood I should say.

harem slaves are so used to being abused by their Masters. Elliot thought they would welcome a Nice Guy Gentleman who treated them with respect. Instead they considered such feminine weakness, a sign he was just another womanly harem slave himself and abused him as such. They tortured him for their misogynistic master instead of rewarding him for being a White Knight rescuer. They gave him the same hazing they do to the new freshman slaves.'

His Eurasian penis was so tiny, that it was no obstacle to the harem slaves adopting him as a fellow sister. They forced him to learn the harem chain of command.

His selfish stepmom would spend months partying in her homeland, while she would live Elliot to be tortured as a bitch femboy by harem slaves. She knew what was going on, but she thought it would teach him a lesson and beat the gangsta swag out of him.

He experienced the total destruction of his masculinity and it destroyed him for life.

harem slaves are so used to being abused by their Masters. Elliot thought they would welcome a Nice Guy Gentleman who treated them with respect. Instead they considered such feminine weakness, a sign he was just another womanly harem slave himself and abused him as such. They tortured him for their misogynistic master instead of rewarding him for being a White Knight rescuer. They gave him the same hazing they do to the new freshman slaves.

The harem slaves would bathe his entire body with the saliva of their tongues. His tiny Eurasian dick would be incredibly aroused but still tiny. So close to the most beautiful women on the planet, but not allowed to assert its maleness. His dick was just a useless toy not meant for fucking. Their beauty was just a tease.

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A few years ago I remember reading a story here about a girl that for some reason had woken up with a large penis. She then spent most or pretty much all of her time masturbating to herself in the mirror / in the bathroom. Eventually her sister saw her and eventually got her to fuck her instead.

Anyone know what it's called or what happened to it? Greatly appreciated!

(pic unrelated)

autor: Captain Thrill
pic: NIP (Nobody in Particular)

tags: futa on male, male on futa, male on female
_____________________________________

“Knock it off already.” Cassie had the remote control firmly entrenched in her hand and was doing her best to keep it out of reach. The TV was stuck on basketball, which sucked. I knew that there had to be some combination of leverage and brute force that would cause my sister’s fingers to open and let me gain command of the remote. Getting up and walking to the TV was simply out of the question.

“Knock what off?,” I replied, making another grab. Cassie just rolled her eyes and pushed me away. Time for a desperation move. I stuck my thumb in my mouth just long enough to let it collect a good amount of spit, then, distracting her with another lunge for the remote, I slid my thumb past her defenses and rubbed it over her left ear.

“Ewww! Fucking gross!” Her grip loosened just enough for me to pry the device from her hand. My victory was sweet, but it was also short.

“Okay, Knob. You asked for it.” She grabbed me by the wrist and deftly twisted it behind my back, using her three-year age lead and height advantage to throw me down on the couch. She pinned me on my stomach and quickly moved into a sitting position on my shoulders, resting her full weight down on me to keep me from escaping. It was pretty much over. I knew what was coming next, and with one final effort I raised my free hand and succeeded in changing the channel before she could wrestle the remote away. Yes! No matter what happened now, she could never take that away from me.

I closed my eyes as I heard her unzip her pants. My embarrassment was unreal as she began whacking me on the back of the head with a blunt, meaty object.

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hi pals. looking for an m/b elit..content is basicly and aduld male babysitter who seduces slowly two boys, starting with making a bet with them to get them a day long naked. than pizzadeliveryman on the younger while babysitter and older boy watching them on camera and start as well. aaaaand go!

I've finally managed to accomplish one of my goals: becoming a published author through amazon and selling a book! I realize it's not much of an achievement but it still makes me really happy for myself, I have always had low self esteem from childhood trauma.

Anyway, I'm always looking for more people to roleplay with since my books are all erotic so far, are there any girls left here? A trap is fine too.

Secondly, does anyone have any success stories, good publishers they know, etc?
My publisher isn't very good, but I was happy just to know one person bought my book even though they butchered the cover.

Are there any other amazon authors out there?
I could post some of the stuff I've written as well, I've got a lot and I like writing new scenes to keep me sharp. Just no cp or scat. I can also do custom requests, if anyone here is into that type of thing.

okay, i'll try this again.

Dexterous. a word most people would use to describe Olivia, even if they had only very briefly met her.
A deserved description, as her hands never really stopped being in motion.
Her fingers: agile, yet delicate. With them, no task was beyond her grasp.
When she was younger, they guided her to becoming quite deft at musical instruments such as the piano, guitar, and violin.
As she aged, she discontinued her pursuit of musical talents;Her interest didn't necessarily wane as much as shift towards other things.
She was eleven when it occurred, though nobody, not even her, could tell you why.

"I don't know why. It just happened." She'd tell you with a smile that was often known to cause acute amnesia. Mesmerizing, others might describe it as.
The fact of the matter was, talents aside, Olivia was beautiful. Plump, pink lips that were often as expressive as she was.
Large, curious eyes that might come off as looking tired, or perhaps even mischievous, if she wasn't working on something.
In addition, as if those alone weren't enough, she had high cheekbones that further accentuated her smile, and a proud, feminine brow:
the apex of which grew golden brown tresses. Indeed, her hair was long, but on any given day it was balled on top of her head in a messy bun.
The attire she opted to wear on a day to day basis was just as relaxed. T-shirts and jeans, maybe shorts with a longer top when the weather permitted.

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>>	Anonymous 14/03/23(Sun)20:56 No. 831 Great! Now I want to jerk off a highschool girl. Thanks lola!

>>	lola 14/05/26(Mon)14:34 No. 844 i'm debating on whether or not i should even continue this. what do you guys think?

>>	Anonymous 14/05/29(Thu)01:55 No. 845 >>844 If you don't write some more on this, deffo write something for us to see.

>>	Anonymous 14/11/13(Thu)12:09 No. 903 Can I just jump in here and say I really hope you continue this? I know it's been a couple months, but I just found it, and I have to say this one one of the best stories I've read in a while.

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palpable update lola 15/11/13(Fri)19:04 No. 1227 File 14474594954.jpg - (35.59KB , 1000x651 , helenandolivia.jpg ) I never could have expected this. Not last week, not last year, not five years ago, certainly not when she was born. There's not a single part of me that wants to admit how I felt seeing my own daughter like that. Yet I can't deny it. Is it narcissism? The nature of the situation? Am I just a terrible person...? I can say that it certainly wasn't on purpose. I didn't want to, not at all, merely attempting to play the part of a caring mother. No, not playing the part, I was a caring mother. Am a caring mother. Usually Olivia comes through the front door with a hello, to see if I'm here. Sometimes we chat, I ask her what she did at school, or what she wants for dinner. Typical parent-child conversation. Child, she's a child. I'm the parent. I made pineapple cupcakes that day. Work was really slow that day, but I ended up getting out earlier than I expected to. So, I went to the grocery store on my way home, made cupcakes after everything else was put away. Olivia came home while I icing them, just after letting them cool down long enough. Coconut frosting. Message too long. Click here to view the full text.

To my surprise, when I asked for input on which of my two Sci-Fi serials to release first, those of you who voted didn't vote for the gender-change story, but rather for the superhero one. That works for me, though, it's probably the one I'm having the most fun with.

If you read Rent-A-Daughter, you might suspect that I've been a comic fan for most of my life. Of course, if I got the chance to write one I'd screw it up by including a happy incestous teen couple or a hero who happens to be a non-violent pedophile, and I'd be blackballed, but luckily that's not a concern here. If I had any art skill at all, I might be drawing erotic comics instead of writing erotic literature, but I don't. So this is a prose version of what I'd produce if I was creating a superhero series.

Relatively Powered (mf, inc, cons, superhero)

"The First Issue" (no additional story codes)

When superheroes start their journey, they face a number of issues. Do we have what it takes? How are we going to protect our identities so our loved ones don't get hurt? Will we look silly in a tight costume? Those are only a few. But for the majority of us, who are Powered, that is itself often the very first issue. Before you can decide to be heroes, you have to know what you can do, and how your powers are going to affect your life and your career, and that starts the day you learn you have them.

My sister Tabitha and I learned about our powers together, and although we'll never be able to tell our origin story publicly, it was a dramatic one. There's nothing unusual about that, of course... a lot of superheroes, and villains, have traumatic first manifestations. I don't think anybody's got one quite like ours, though...

The moment we first had an inkling we were among the Powered, my sister and I were naked, our genitals joined, and we were plummeting towards a construction site far below. I was still saying “What the fuck,” the phrase I’d started when I suddenly felt the cool air of Crash City on my ass and the bright light of a spring day, before the stomach lurch as gravity took hold and we started to tumble end over end.

Tabby, she just screamed and held on to me tighter, her legs wrapped around me for support, incidentally causing my cock to sink deeper into her pussy. I embraced her as well, but despite my continued rock-hardness, there was no passion in it any more, it was just that instinct to hold on tight to someone you love when you know you're going to die.

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>>	Anonymous 12/06/22(Fri)04:05 No. 465 This is no joke some of the best stuff I've ever read, elit or otherwise. Do you read Astro City? This really reminds me of it, but sexier. Looking forward to more!

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AnonyMPC 12/07/18(Wed)18:58 No. 489 File 134265230514.jpg - (100.07KB , 900x900 , superlorna.jpg ) >>375 >>465 Thanks! I'm no longer posting my stories here, but #3 is now up at http://www.asstr.org/~AnonyMPC/RelativelyPowered003.html Picture unrelated, except that it's a little related, thematically.

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Anonymous 12/09/15(Sat)08:48 No. 585 Hey anonyMPC. Glad to see you clacking away here at 99 again! I have always loved your work, and this is awesome! I still think that you should try publishing something. If that "50 shades" shit can be marketed, then why not this? Other than the obvious fact that most guy's don't read books anymore... What I'm trying to say is, most of all, you are an awesome writer, and I hope that you continue to write this story!

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Anonymous 12/09/20(Thu)05:23 No. 591 >>585 Thanks, though I don't have any plans to try and enter the publishing field. Do anything with underage characters, and try to publish it somewhere other than the dark corners of the Internet to make money off it, and there's way too much risk of large numbers of people freaking out and creating a shitstorm and making a determined effort to track you down and ruin your life. Glad you enjoy it though. The next part is up at http://www.asstr.org/~AnonyMPC/RelativelyPowered004.html and #5 should be ready in a week or two. It was originally one big part that I decided to split in two, but I still need to do some rewriting and finishing on the second part.

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AnonyMPC 15/11/07(Sat)07:52 No. 1218 After a long gap, the newest installment, #9 is done, at http://www.asstr.org/~AnonyMPC/RelativelyPowered009.html But I guess I haven't been posting announcements here, so if you read it from this thread you might want to start at www.asstr.org/~AnonyMPC/RelativelyPowered005.html, or just go to my ASSTR site directly, www.asstr.org/~AnonyMPC/

Title: The Lights: A Tale of the Sex and Lust
Chapter 1: Love in the Club
Author: Ai Lust
Warnings: Futanari (Transgender)/Female, Public, D/s

The lights are low and strobing. The music is loud and the bass is low. It’s safe to say I in over my head and well on my way into having a migraine. I should’ve never promised Pom and Adia to come tonight. I’m just not in the mood to party. Work has been kicking my ass thoroughly, lately and I just want to sleep.

The girls at this point were kneed deep in Gorilla Milk and humping the nearest conquest they could find. Pom’s to my left, tongue stuck down some guys throat. He’s got his hands all over her. One minute on her ass, the next rubbing her tits. It’s safe to say she was getting it in tonight. Adia is on the dance floor in the midst of what looked like a group of guys but there were what seem to be a mix of fun, in the crowd. Then there me, the crabapple of the group. I just wasn’t feeling like doing anything, but I stayed for the girls.

After what might have been my third drink, I just stopped. My head was throbbing, now. I watched the sea of bodies move in lustful content but then I noticed someone staring dead at me. I couldn’t make out who it was at first but then I saw a flash of light hair and piercing eyes move through the crowd, then they were gone. It might have been just me and my stupid head, it’s hard to tell at this point.

“ Hey!”

“Mmm?”

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On the night of her eighteenth birthday, Hermione was chatting with a few friends, sat in her room, enjoying her celebration. One of the girls, named Susan, offered her a piece of cake that she casually tossed in her mouth and chewed down. As she swallowed, she noticed smirks begin to spread across Susan and the other girl's faces.
"Now we start to really enjoy your birthday" Susan said to the other girl's amusement.
It suddenly dawned on Hermione what had happened, "The cake..."
"Laced with enchantments. We wanted to be sure you'd have a great night, but... well, we figured you were a little stuffy to do it willingly. It took us a long time to get that cake made you know. Lots of powerful spells just waiting to be triggered, you've probably noticed the first already."
Hermione had noticed it. She was trying to leave, to find some way of dispelling whatever was on that cake, but her body wasn't responding. She was being controlled utterly by Susan and her friends.
"Please, don't do this. I'm your friend!"
"Don't worry Hermy, you're going to enjoy yourself. Whether you want to or not. Now, let's begin, shall we?"
At a flick of Susan's wrist, Hermione noticed strange feelings began to flow through her body. What do they have planned? Her answer came fast as she noticed her shirt beginning to shrink... or... her bust expanding! "Ohmigod!" Hermione gasped as she realised the truth, her breasts were growing larger with every second. Susan and the other girls began to giggle and whisper to themselves as Hermione's face turned a bright red and the fabric of her shirt was stretched wide and tight across her rapidly expanding chest. "A free boob-job Hermy! You should be pleased. Perhaps it's not enough for you?" "NO! No more... please Susan stop it now, I don't want this" Hermione pleaded.
Her pleas fell on deaf ears, as Susan stared intently at Hermione's growing bosom. The expansion continued, with a new effect; Hermione's nipples were growing larger and becoming erect. Two, swollen points the size of strawberries were pressed tightly against her shirt, Hermione gazed down at them with a distraught look on her face. She let out a deep groan of discomfort tinged, to her regret, with a small amount of pleasure as the pressure stimulated her sensitive nipples. The tightness she was unable to rectify was no longer to be an issue as, in quick succession, the buttons on her shit popped off and flew across the room. Her shirt burst open, revealing not only her vast, unrestrained cleavage - breasts the size of footballs standing firm and obscenely pert and nipples as hard as bullets - but also the fact that Hermione wasn't wearing a bra.
Susan and the other girls gazed joyously, many giggling, even a few clapping slightly at their impressive work. Hermione, still unable to control her basic motor functions, was stood with her arms back and her chest thrust proudly forward, eyes peering down at her own glorious breasts. Her cheeks were flushed red with the embarrassment at being made a spectacle in front of twenty or so of her peers, she felt humiliated and yet strangely attracted to her new oversized bust.
Susan clapped her hands in delight and skipped closer to examine Hermione's body. Gingery, she reached out and prodded the mounds of flesh, before grinning widely and giving them a firm squeeze. Her hand wandered and gave Hermione's right nipple a slight tweak, eliciting a surprised squeak from the girl.
"You've had your fun Susan, can we please stop this now?"
"What?! But my dear Hermy, we've only just begun!"
Before Hermione could protest more, Susan backed up and gestured in the air. Hermione's mouth gaped open and her face was twisted in shock as yet more impossible feelings wracked her body. This time, Hermione was genuinely afraid, as she felt discomfort in her belly and, more worryingly, her delicate genitals. With fear rushing through her, Hermione was unable to articulate at all, and merely stared blindly ahead, mouth open and gasping silently in shock. As sudden as it had started, it was over, and Hermione felt the magic end, something was peculiar, though in her stunned state she couldn't quite understand what.
"Haven't worked it out yet Hermy? There's a clue in the question!" Susan giggled at her own cleverness. "Never mind, I'll just show you."

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Graham is in hell.

A very special version of hell.

For you see: He helped the devil, but he did not sell him his soul, in life.
He pledged to be good. He loved that. Helping people, and doing things for nature and the health of the galaxy. Whatever.

Graham was a 17 year old boy when he decided he wanted to be a doctor; a therapist with a Ph.D or Psy.D. He loved helping people almost as much as helping him self. Which is basically what made sense to him then; material pleasure, success, helping others, transcendence.

But he did not follow the rules; he enjoyed nearly all of these things. Success was one thing but really, our friend did not care to override others, or beat people, compete in games and succeed, outstanding your last success each and every time. This just... didn't make sense to him when it all happened.

Brazil. 1993. He is born, and the world welcomes him, gives him intelligence, wit, emotional profoundity, and of course, undoubtedly the mantle piece of this story: his very special testicles.

He liked porn. He liked his mom. But he liked porn, a lot.

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dabs!ABCDEDEZEY 15/06/19(Fri)01:53 No. 936 File 143469320256.jpg - (7.72KB , 320x240 , 031266_58.jpg ) -SEX ROBOT- It's, what? Sunday? Hahaha. Our hero is now wanting to grasp his key-tar hidden over behind the stack of doujinshi from the 20th century, along with etchi school girl mags, his keytar is a candy-lavender sheen with golden keys where the black should be. The main keys are white... he grabs it and lies down on the water-bed, flipping the switch on the keytar making it spin. The little, brown, tobacco-stained lever wasn't there before he decided it should be... Graham... is in hell. A very special version of hell. And this time, he's ready for something nasty. The large, cast-iron door is a weird pink; pastel with polka-dots. He can decide on any color in the room, any decor, but he has to grab it out of an un-locked chest from within an alcove, which he removes from it and opens, to find anything he would like to decorate the room with. After playing out "Toot Suite," on the kawaii-sugoi instrument of the early 1980's, he decides to get something to "decorate" his experience; his abode, with. Turning on the fatty ps2 under his bed with the dip-switch ingrained behind his left ear Graham decides to play some Grand Theft Auto 3, illuminated in a holograph, illustrated in matrix-green on the bathroom mirror. In there it's a bit lighter pink than in the main room. The dirty, almost weirdly hellish programming inherent in the graphics of the old game priques Graham's young penis, entering a jive of blood and electricity in the end of his meatus. "I know a place on the edge of the red light district where we can lay low. But my hands are all messed up so you better drive, brother." 8-ball is the somewhat oddly-set majordomo of the 'mute protagonist of the 6th generation title, Claude. He's requiring Claude to drive since his hands have been bounds due to a reason not alluded to or spoken of in the game. It's kind of an odd title that Graham hasn't played since he was in like 5th grade. Claude hops in and head radio blips on. The trunk opens up by itself, and from the corner of his eye Graham notices a figure from Ghost in The Shell walking over to him--it is an out-dated sex droid from the movie "Innocence." Sitting down on the spinning pink round bed, it lies about 4 or 5 inches from graham, the jade holograph of cartoonic scenes of early-2000's death and mischief now the center of Graham's vision as his back waddles in the wake of her disruption of the gel-substance composing the entirety of the bed's internals. His hands release from the shape of holding a video game controller, and lie down on the bed, the visuals disappearing as he does. "Eh hee ey hee ey, eh hee ey hee ey," " sings "Stripe Summers" of head radio in the room as the child-like fuck-husk cocks her head. Graham's eyes lock with her green eyes as he looks over at her, a perfectly neotenic presentation of sex from The Lord of the Flies, himself. A genuine smile creeps to his face as he visualizes his guardian angel from Earth filling his heads of his memoirs and short stories from his time as the Anti-Christ. Message too long. Click here to view the full text.

1. Jennifer I - (m/f, f-to-futa, dick growth)

//

Tonight as well, the sensation of his cock inside my pussy was uncomfortably tight.

It was odd, because his organ was still the same size it had always been -- 5 inches long, not very wide. Probably, it was a side-effect of the swelling that I'd been feeling recently; an effect of this strange affliction that had so rapidly worn away at my enjoyment of sex. Even now, with him grinding his cock against the rough location of my G-spot, I felt nothing within me beside the unpleasant pressure of skin against skin in mineral lubricant.

"I'm- I'm gonna cum," he said.

I faked a desperate moaning as he accelerated, pounding his way toward orgasm. Then, with a groan, he ejaculated, filling my womb with the tepid warmth of his semen. Half-collapsing and breathing heavily, he pushed himself off of my body and flopped on to his back, smiling at me like a puppy -- always as eager to please as he'd been since our marriage, years ago.

"How was that?" he asked.

Repulsive, I wanted to say -- but I didn't want to hurt him. Instead, I smiled.

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Anonymous 15/05/10(Sun)23:21 No. 933 File 143131447899.jpg - (324.59KB , 707x1000 , 22074365_big_p3.jpg ) 2. Jennifer II - (futa/solo, masturbation, pissing) // In the mornings, after I kissed my husband and waved goodbye -- smiling as he drove out of sight with the kids -- the house became a domain where I alone was Queen. Spitting the trace amounts of saliva that had passed between our lips to the lawn, I wiped my mouth with a sleeve and entered through the front door, chaining it shut and arming the security. Like Doctor Killian said, internal erections were extremely uncomfortable. Though the organ wouldn't release itself from the confines of my abdomen without conscious intent, it took nearly all of my willpower to fight the combination of the pressure and the needy insistence of my arousal. "I'm sorry, Jonathan," I said, "but this is for you as well." With my back against the door, I squatted down and spread my legs as if taking a shit -- squeezing my eyes shut and groaning as I pushed. There was a now-familiar plopping noise as my cock and balls burst from my cunt, tenting in my skirt and wetting the fabric. Dripping glops of precum and pussy fluid to the wooden floor with every step, I kicked off my shoes in the foyer and unbuttoned my skirt -- filling the hallway with the pungent scent of my manhood. My husband hadn't noticed the shape of my erect nipples beneath my blouse, but in truth, I'd been frequently going full-commando for several weeks. In the beginning, I'd only stopped wearing panties because I didn't want to soil them -- but the risk of exposure was in itself somehow a turn-on, and I ended up losing the bra several days in. Message too long. Click here to view the full text.

In the year 1337, the Hundred Years' War began. This was a terrible war which lasted for damned near a hundred years. It may seem appropriate to some people to apply the most exact science known to Europe at the time, Numerology, to analyze the situation. Firstly, 1337 is one of the most well-known numbers of our times and modern ways which is not a power of 2. It does stand to reason, if one is completely insane, to notice that 1337 is leetspeak for "leet", a highly compressed version of the word "elite". It naturally follows that this war was started between enraged Frenchmen, battling for the Crown of what would soon be a desolate wasteland for quite some time.
Another worthy hypothesis is that the leaders of France found British humor to be overly redundant, and entirely too self-referential. France as a whole was very angry about this, and at that time, their crappy military was shiny and formidable. They had been drinking too much unpasteurized milk, according to Wikipedia, which some revisionist historians have postulated was a polite way of saying they were all very inbred and stupid. Though perhaps regettable, this was all in good fun until someone lost an eye, or was just born that way.
Joan of Arc arrived late on the scene, in the 1420's, but left more than the typically half-assed, embarrassingly French skid-marks. She must have been related to Noah of Arc, because Joan, too, was plagued by divine inspiration, which led shortly to her tragic demise, among other terrible things. Whereas Noah was told something more like, "Let there be Light, and Rainbows are a Feature, not a Bug," Joan's visions were even more milk-induced. She was told to go lead the French to victory, among other terrible things.
A stoned Dutchman, who was trying to stay out of the way, was overheard saying, "if the sky falls, we'll all be wearing blue hats." He was executed on the spot for heresy and/or schizophrenia. This happened despite the fact that he was trying to convey something or other, which may have been of great import, as is Heineken. Things kept going downhill from there, resulting eventually in something which did not resemble the American rock band Blondie.
Blondie, however, was not in any way responsible for what happened to Joan of Arc, and has made some wonderful music. If Blondie perhaps pales in comparison to basically anything from the Netherlands, then, well... you can't make chocolate out of it, as they say! The end is near.
It's not appropriate to hate the Dutch, Blondie, other American rock bands, or even (in this case), the French. The people who ultimately burned Joan of Arc at the stake were Englishmen. She cried, "aide-moi, aide-moi, je suis enflammbe!" No one did. She was just that unpopular right then, in that crowd. She wasn't even old enough to drink Heineken, except perhaps in Canada. Several black kittens were also burned at the same stake for good measure. It took a long time for the world to remember Joan of Arc as well as we do now, except perhaps in the Netherlands. They don't remember what they had for breakfast, though.

The Colonel was a good guy. He always knew it, but he'd forgotten to remember
this a time or two. When he joined the Army he'd been presented with a
choice. Go to prison, or join the Army. He decided to always be a good guy
after that. After all, the good guys always won, and all games, even the ones
people never realized were games, were meant to be won. He was a smart man,
but even smart people make mistakes.

He straightened his cute little Army hat and smoothed the skirt of his dress
uniform. It always seemed gay to him, but women loved him. Women always
loved him, and he always loved women. Give and take. Give to take... Give
to take women. The service was rough sometimes, but it beat being shot at and
loathed. To be shot at and loved was always better. Everyone loved him;
sometimes it was confusing to be such a hero in everyone's eyes. The world
was always like this, in one way or another. He considered the eradication of
wrongness a toast to quitting drinking. He had to sober up for this anyway.

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Jesus Christ, this board seems to be like the locus of inactivity. Well, fear not, after reading lots of erotic fiction here and elsewhere, I decided to try my hand at writing some myself. This is my first time writing, so it probably won't be perfect, but bear with me.

Tags with be put up for each chapter, but the overall theme is Futa/Fempreg.

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Tags: (Dick growth, Futa, Solo, Forced, Fempreg)

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Fuuko wasn’t certain why she suddenly felt a chill go up her spine as she stepped away from the old woman who had just been fired from the coffee shop by her boss yesterday, but something definitely was… off. The woman had been fired by Fuuko’s boss for being late for the 4th day in a row, and even after having only worked there for 2 weeks so far, it was abundantly clear that she was never going to work out. Her name was Felicia, and she had applied for the job because her social security wasn’t paying her enough, so she needed a source of income to supplement it. She had a weird habit of reading people’s palms at random times of day during slow periods and giving fortunes, and while Fuuko thought she was a really nice woman (and so did many customers) she weirded out Fuuko’s boss too much, and couldn’t do her job properly. It all started the day after the woman had been fired, and had come back to say goodbye.

“Fuuko, are you there?” came Felicia’s voice while Fuuko was checking stock. She came out and saw the old woman, and her face lit up. Felicia was fairly frumpy individual, and her age clearly showed in her mid-seventies, but even with her appearance and weird habits she gave off a warm feeling of motherly affection mixed with a little feistiness and spryness stemming from her life experiences. For someone like Fuuko, who whose upbringing in Japan had always been raised to respect her elders, she held her in high regard and they had formed a fast friendship. It’s a shame she lacked proficiency to do her work, although the fact that Fuuko’s boss was going through a mid-life crisis, and she was terrified of looking at anything that remotely reminded her of growing old didn’t help matters.

“Hi! I’m sorry about what happened the other day. I hope everything will be alright.”

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The Closet II Part II: Stephanie's Second Session

Tags: M/M/M/MtF, solo, bondage, titfucking, oral & anal sex, forced fem, forced homosexuality

The events of my first day in the closet with Dr. Hoffman were not soon forgotten. For weeks, maybe even months, I felt every last bit of the diabolical therapy's effects. The initial goal of my first "reorientation theray" was to explore my latent attraction to men and work to develop it as my primary interest. I swore to myself at the start of my punishment that I would never grow to like men, that it was simply impossible for me to do so and any attempts by Dr. Hoffman to force it on me would end up being worthless. But in the days that followed the first therapy, I found my worst fears coming true. I found that I had, in fact, started to succumb to the therapy's effects, and that perhaps his efforts were not so futile after all.

Night after night, I laid awake reliving that bizarre day as my mind tried to wander into sleep. I stayed awake for hours feeling the young man's penis still in my mouth, all ready to release his seed down into my gullet...or his large cock pulsating deep in my ass, ready at any moment to cream my butthole with sticky, hot semen. Worst of all though, I couldn't stop doubting whether or not I had, in fact, liked the anal part of it. I kept remembering how he would hit my g-spot, and how good it felt, and how I wanted to feel that again and again. Although the shot I was given every night killed off whatever function I had left in my penis, there were indeed times I still felt sexual desire, and discovering anal masturbation was almost the way out for my diminishing sexual needs. Privately at home, I began to experiment a bit with penetrating myself. I would sit for almost hours, fingering myself deep inside my hole while playing with the nipples on my still-developing breasts, garnering shockwaves of pleasure in places I had never felt before I began my feminization. There were times that, when I struck my prostate and nipples at the same time, I could just feel electricity running on a continuous path through the middle of my body. Every time I had done so, I couldn't help but moan...softly, with the precise aire of a girl discovering her unique and beautiful sexuality for the first time.

One night, while pleasuring myself in this way, I encountered what was probably the starkest sign that Dr. Hoffman was winning the battle to make me a girl. As I had gently massaged myself, the thought flashed through my head of me at my reorientation therapy again. Sitting calmly, face down on the bed, with the man's smooth, oiled cock gliding in and out of my tight virgin asshole. Every vivid evocation of this tittilating memory made the electric pleasure from my nipples and butthole ever more stronger. I hid under the covers, pretending my fingers were the man's erect, pulsing cock once again coursing through me, brushing up against my g-spot, making me feel so loved, and desired, and...sexy. Harder and harder did my massaging motions grow, on top and on bottom, until I had seen my tiny cock flicker for the first time in almost a year. Finally, I reminded myself of how he came inside me...coating me deeply inside with the sticky substance that only a girl like me could truly appreciate. This final thought was enough to send me off the edge; with one final rub of my prostate and right nipple, I felt my entire lower half contract in a wave of pleasure, before finally releasing what was almost pure water all over the bedsheets. It was the first orgasm I had since I began my punishment; evidently, the treatments have reduced my semen to nothing more than inert juice.

My head snapped up from under the covers as if I had awoken from a bad dream. I stared in horror at the wall across the room as it had descended upon me that I had masturbated to a gay fantasy. Me. With another man. Being pleasurable. I slammed myself back against the mattress with a mix of anger and frustration, putting the pillow over my head as I screamed and kicked my feet down on the mattress. He was winning. God dammit, was he winning. Dr. Hoffman succeeded in making me the slightest bit gay, and it wouldn't be long before he would finally succeed in his ultimate goal of making me more than just slightly a girl.

The next few months were a blur for me. I stumbled across the school halls, disoriented for most of the day, dwelling on my shoehorned attraction toward men. I didn't want it to be true, but it was. I was starting to like boys. I didn't want to embrace this attraction, but my body would not cooperate with me. I began to feel ever more betrayed by how it has repeatedly failed me. It gave into the hormones and grew me breasts and hips. It gave into Dr. Hoffman and made me like boys. It gave into the man in the closet and pleasured me greatly. I was simply so distraught that I almost felt that my body and mind were growing to become two warring entities. I didn't even have anyone to talk to about it. Dr. Hoffman made it clear early on in the program that discussing it with anyone would cause me to be dismissed and sent to jail. As far as anyone else was concerned, I was simply a normal girl. Having been transferred into this school at the start of the program, nobody ever knew of my former life as a boy.

Well, except for one, of course...Kat Weston. She knew my secret ever since I first met her at the store where I bought my first girl clothes. She embraced me and said she supported every step of my transition ever since I first told her that the skirts and leggings were for me, and not a girlfriend. She doesn't know the true reason of my transsexuality though; and there were times I wished I could just blurt it out and tell her. She was the sole emotional oasis I had in my life at this point, but she always unintentionally cut me like a knife when she brought up stuff like how jealous she was of my breasts, or how excited she was for me and my upcoming surgeries. The times we spent together were still nothing but memorable, and they are a story for a sunnier day.

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This is an M/F story, other content tags are at the bottom. The names have been changed to protect the guilty. The pictured bird is from the genus Halcyon in keeping with the title.

“So, how exactly do you claim virginity has any value whatsoever when the concept probably only mattered to nobles looking to preserve male lines of succession, and any modern understanding of woman as anything more than a piece of property that spits out heirs?”

Haley stood up from her seat in the bleachers staring down at the floor of the gymnasium. I fought a smirk, below, the Purity Pals looked up at her like she was some eldritch abomination that had come coagulating into reality to undo their whole lecture. One of their cells went off, the white-bread polo-shirted speaker answered it and ducked behind their stage while the other turned to take a question from the other side of the audience. Haley stayed standing, her hands tucked halfway into the pockets of her jeans, leaning back cockily she was all legs from where I sat beside her. She wore one of those wide pleather belts with the square studs and a Johnny Cash belt buckle, under her school-mandated white blouse she had on a deep purple tank top, it stretched around her middling breasts. Her skin was pale cream, her hair dyed black, with subdued violet highlights.

Mrs. McGarth leaned over and ushered her back down with a wave of her hand and a wink. Haley rolled her eyes in silent reply and bought a half-smile from our biology teacher.

It took the rest of the hour to clear the gym out of all the students. While the Principle shouted for order the rest of the senior class did their best impersonation of the bulls at Pamplona. In the foyer, the Purity Pals had tables blocking the doors and were handing out little cards to the ravenous hordes. Sign the card, get out the door. There was a little pod of students pulled off to one side being talked to by one of the ‘Pals’. I recognized most of them, if not by name, as a clique of stoners and Neanderthals that bizarrely hadn’t dropped out yet. They were being given the same speech the rest of us had just sat through.

“I’m sure the encore will really win the case for them.” I said to Haley as we queued up to be re-virgin-ized. Or double-virgin-ized in my case, though I couldn’t speak for Haley.

“Hey! Haley!” One of them called. “Hey, tell em what you said in there!”

She had just finished signing the little business card and passed me the pen. I scribbled my name and ducked into an alcove near the door to wait for her. The Purity Pal recognized her immediate, opened his mouth and raised a hand to smite her down. She lifted his literal v-card up to him, held it with both her hands and tore it straight down the middle. With a flick of her wrists the two pieces went flitting up into the air like two card stock April snowflakes.

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8 posts omitted. Click Reply to view.

>>	Anonymous 13/04/30(Tue)15:40 No. 712 >>703 I'd love to see this story completed.

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Commodore 13/08/31(Sat)02:33 No. 750 “I told you!” I called over the thrum of pop music, “I don’t dance!” “Yes you can!” Haley called back, grabbing me by the wrist and pulling me onto the dance floor. I stumbled, feet wheeling loosely as I passed her and found myself impersonating a deer surrounded by bouncing class mates. Um. Bad analogy. One pop anthem ended and was quickly replaced with a radio edit hip hop tack. Haley smiled and took a few steps out towards me. I realized I was moving in what could only possibly be described as an arhythmic slow motion seizure. I looked ridiculous and I knew it instantly. With Haley’s eyes on me, it was a special kind of embarrassment, like pure calcium dropped into a cup of water just inside my throat. She closed on me and I felt her arms somewhere around my waist. “I said, I don’t dance! Don’t! As in do not!” Despite my protest, Haley insisted on forcing me to replicate this strange human custom of “dance.” I didn’t enjoy it, but managed not to burst into flames either. We were at the far edge of the floor in the fringes of the class. Nearer the center, classmates writhed in a singular mass. They were mindless and exothermic, a boiling mass of rented tuxedoes and lace. Half of whom I didn’t know as well as I should like, and half of whom I liked less than they deserved. Haley and I were at the fringes now, where the people were scattered like random scatter patterns. Without her, I was alone here. We all but fell against one another and found a beat. She was near, and the scent of vegan perfume struck me and struck like a bolt through every nerve from my nose to my ...feet. She had turned her back, and stretched her arms back around my neck. She pressed herself against me and looked up to meet my eyes, a knowing smile creasing her darkly painted lips. The next song sent a laugh through my throat and brightened Haley like a flare. She swept around into my arms. I lead as the waltz from Labyrinth played. And at the edge of the floor, in those nether regions beyond the sweeping disco lights and the wound up knots of people, we were together. Her hair cushioned her head as she rested it against my chest. Her eyes closed, and she held me tighter as we drifted further from the crowd. I turned my back to them to meet her eyes. She didn’t say a word. The song ended far too soon and we made our escape.

>>	Anonymous 14/09/28(Sun)05:19 No. 884 File 141189594524.png - (2.70MB , 840x840 , mfw.png ) >>750 Good sir, I implore you, please continue this. I came back to this board after a long, long time. This makes me ever so glad I came back when I did. This is just wonderful.

>>	Anonymous 14/10/03(Fri)01:37 No. 886 >>703 I would like to see this story finished also.

>>

Commodore 14/11/23(Sun)14:41 No. 906 I'm not going to offer an explanation of the delay, either between this part and the last, or for the titanic time this short little smut piece took as a whole. In truth, I should really go back and rework the whole thing, there are significant portions I'm not happy with. But! I write for the audience. Not for the praise, but to provide enjoyment to other people. So to the resurrecting bumpers, thank you. Without further ado: I’ve always had a certain fondness of hotels. The glow of them, the way everything seems to be gilded. I know I shouldn’t, it’s illusory, and it’s all made that way for pure marketing. But there was no need to be concerned about that as we made way through away from the rest of the party. We had come in through the lobby, past pillars wrapped in cellophane and dangling whats-its. I couldn’t tell you what the theme was supposed to be, it didn’t matter. The ball room was down an escalator, a voluminous room with a moveable partition wall. The slope of the street made this floor street level too, amber glow of the street lights outside welcoming us into the city. I felt uninhibited, in a way I wouldn’t have liked most nights, as I pressed Haley into the revolving door. My hands framed her as we pushed on the glass. She looked back over her shoulder. Clicked her teeth with a smile. We didn’t need to, the door was automatic. The hotel had some arrangement that they didn’t rent rooms to prom attendees, but the other hotels on the loop had no such rule imposed by moralizing parents. We crossed 5th street and I thought to stop so Haley could remove her heels. But she cleared the sidewalk ahead of me, and when we crossed Derleth we were both in a near-sprint. A few other kids from our class were scattered in the lobby, they cheered, for Haley certainly. We both waved and passed by. As we waited for the elevator, I fished the room key from my pocket. It was an actual key, not a key card, and not a small one. The elevator opened, Haley pushed me inside, I dropped the key onto the shined floor with a clank. Our lips met, her head titled. My hands found her hips, hers draped over my shoulder and around my back. “I want you,” she said, breaking the kiss. Her eyes were wide, soft. “but,” she said. I took a hard breath, nodded. Message too long. Click here to view the full text.

Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors

"Inside"

Tags: Cia/Ganondorf (F/M) Vanilla Sex
Spoilers with artistic license.

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Cia lay in bed recovering from the battle that day. She had just gained the Triforce of Power moments before the King of Thieves, Ganondorf, vanished with it. The battle went downhill afterward, forcing her to retreat. It seems more was stolen than Cia could admit.

It was in the shadow of midnight that Cia's heart and mind failed to let her close her eyes and sleep. She restlessly came to the realization she was more alone now than ever before. Lana wasn't inside her, Ganondorf wasn't inside her and Link wasn't inside her either. There were nights Cia would summon a phantom to tryst with, but she wasn't in the mood. In fact, Link was not the man that clouded her thoughts.

...

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