Not sure what to say about this one. Not sure if I'm gonna write a second part. Just watched a French series where the characters were refreshingly honest about their selfishness, even if that made them a bit of an asshole. Figured I'd give it a try. There's no justifying this, so why bother trying?

*** *** *****

The movie had been typical summer stupid, but not offensively bad, so Brian and I just shared ironic looks while the others gushed about how awesome it had been. As usual, they immediately started talking about where they wanted to go drinking that night. I amused myself by people watching. The theater at the mall was almost perpetually filled with teens on dates, roving packs of jailbait, and little lolis dragging their parents to the latest Pixar knockoff. All I had to do was put on a bored expression and I could enjoy the view with no one being the wiser, so long as I didn't focus on anyone too closely.

I didn't chime in on my coworker's deliberations, which surprised exactly no one. They always talked about how I was so chill, and how I always just went with the flow. The truth is, I didn't give a rats ass where we ended up, and I only came out on these little outings so I wouldn't seem antisocial. I like my coworkers well enough, and it's worth a night of tedium every now and again to keep up good relations, though only just.

Brian broke off from the debate and struck up a conversation with me about True Detectives. He was the most irascible fuck I worked with, sarcastic, short tempered, and he looked like a bald, lumberjack version of grumpycat. He was also one of the most observant, empathetic, and thoughtful people I had the privilege to know. He put up a tough facade, and he'd make fun of you mercilessly if he knew you could take it, but he also was the first to recognize when someone was on the verge of a meltdown at work, and he always seemed to know just what to say. He always stuck up for the little guy, and made sure no one felt left out. He was just plain good people, and I was glad to know him. He also scared me, because I often felt certain he understood me better than he let on. I'm pretty sure he had me pegged as closet homosexual, and I tried to encourage that assumption. It was a hell of a lot better than the alternative. So we chatted for a bit about how surprised we were to realize that Matthew McConaughey was not only a real actor, but a fucking amazing actor at that, how fucking good the writing was, and what an oppressive mindfuck the series was, as a whole.

That was when I saw a familiar face, and realized something was odd. I wasn't sure why the woman had caught my eye. She was pretty enough, but nothing remarkable, and a bit old for me anyway. She was walking out to the parking lot, pulling her keys out of her purse as she walked. I couldn't quite put my Message too long. Click here to view the full text.

Been wanting to write something worthy of here for a long time. So here I go....

Being a Transgendered person wasn't quite like I expected at all. All my life I had been told I was useless. That I would never amount to anything. I never fit in with the guys at school and sucked at sports majorly. I seemed to be able to gt along with most of the girls though. They would talk to me and we would carry on a conversation with no real problems at all. I grew up being depressed all the time having no clear idea why. I was in and out of work not really fitting in and being angry all the time. I started to get really bad thinking suicide was an option. Then I stumbled across a story that changed my life. I mean literally changed me. I was scared of being trans at first. But the more I thought about it the more I thought 'What if?' So I took a trial run of Female hormones and holy hell. I was hooked.

I met Mia in the parking lot of a liquor store.

My buddy and I were planning to get pretty hammered later that night, and I was just making a quick trip to get a few bottles of the hard stuff. But opportunity knocked; or in this case, shouted. I stopped and looked in the direction of the shout. It had come from a girl who had been loitering near the alleyway behind the liquor store. She was a latina girl with light brown skin and long, dark brown hair that fell well past her shoulders. She was short, but her face was attractive and her body especially so; not too skinny, with just enough curves to be tantalizing, and a fairly decent pair of tits that her tight t-shirt showed off quite well. I also noted that she wore a little necklace with a golden cross that hung down between her breasts. Overall, the girl was one hot little package.

"Hey mister, you wanna get me a 12 pack of beer?" she asked.

It could have been a police sting. I asked her how old she was.

"I'm 18," she said. "I just don't got my ID on me and the cholo behind the counter won't sell me nothing. Come on, help a girl out? I'll make it worth your while..."

She was definitely lying about her age, never mind that fact that 18 wasn't old enough to buy beer anyway, but she wasn't lying about making it worth my while. When I took her back into the alleyway and she'd dropped to her knees and unzipped my pants, I knew this probably wasn't a police sting. As she wrapped her hand around my cock and licked her puffy lips, I asked her how old she really was.

"Why's it matter?" she asked. "I'm 15 almost, you got a problem with that?"

She gave pretty good head for a 14 year old. It wasn't the best I'd ever gotten, but the girl clearly had a little experience. She swallowed half my cock without gagging and began to bob her head back and forth vigorously while she stroked me. I grabbed a fistful of her hair, and she seemed to respond to my aggressiveness by sucking me harder. When I blew my load, she swallowed it all down without complaint.
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Story codes: Fgg, lesbian, pedo, scat, incest, watersports

Author's Warning: The following story is for adults only. It is only a fantasy; don't try anything like any of this with real children. With other adults, go for it; aspire to go beyond the perversity of this story.

Oh, and this story, if i have done my job right, is best read while naked. If you are a male, you might want to get out your favorite butt-plug and put it somewhere nice and hot and tight (if you like kinky stuff enough to have found this story, i know you have one) and lube up your free hand. If you are of the female variety, you might want to have your favorite vibrator ready...your pussy is gonna need it.

Lastly, if this story does make you cum buckets (or squirt buckets) or inspires you to try some bedroom* activities you had not contemplated before, please write and tell me! It was a story like this that encouraged me to actually take the plunge into same-sex fun and then into the delicious depravity that is scat!
*or elsewhere... getting nasty is even more fun in public!

Last chance to back out before things get dirty....



The air in the kitchen was thick with the smell of piss, shit, sweat, perfume, and the estrogen tang of aroused pussy.
Priscilla inhaled deeply, then returned to sucking on her daughter’s asshole. Above her, Megan sighed, tossing her long blond hair, then relaxed her sphincter, her young and hairless cunt drizzling juice onto her mother’s chin. With one hand she played with her clit, with her other, she was fondling the pink nubbins of her breasts. It would be another two years before she really needed a bra, but her nipples were already incredibly sensitive. Between Priscilla’s wide-spread thighs, Megan’s identical twin sister Molly was busily licking their mother’s pussy with an enthusiasm that bordered on the manic.
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Writing's become slow and chore-like again, so I've decided that my latest effort to get myself inspired will be to clear my backlist... over the next few weeks, I'll be editing and posting the stories that I have completed but not released. This does not include MPC4 which is still slow-going.

First up, another of my 'Sci-Fi Serials'. This one deserves a bit of a warning because it's a bit different than my usual stuff, focusing on men who transform into little girls. (I realize there's another 'guy turns into sexualized girl' story that just started, and apologize if it seems like more of the same).

The Lolly Anne Conspiracies (tg, magic, ped*)
Installment 1: "The New Lolly Anne" (additional codes: Mg*, MMg*, g*g*, 1st*)
(* indicates that the code applies due to the bodies of the people involved... since the story involves magical transgenderism, the minds involved will be different)

The first time it happened, I had no idea what was going on. In that respect, I’m like many others. Even those who chose this life, who knew it was coming, have told me that when it first happened they were surprised and wondered if it was a dream that first time.

In my case, that it was a dream was a natural conclusion, since the night before I’d had my share of those. Unsettling dreams about being held down by somebody laughing while I screamed. That’s common too.

When I first woke up that morning, just for a few moments, I felt strange, like my eyes weren’t quite right. For one thing, colors seemed to be more vivid, and subtly different shades of the same color stood out. If I didn't know better, I might have suspected I'd been shaking off the effect of some kind of psychotropic drug, but I didn't feel high, so I assumed I was caught in that place in-between dreams and reality, where they mixed a little too freely. Whenever I get like that I can usually choose whether to wake up fully or descend once again into slumber. I was still drowsy, and knew I didn’t have to go to work that day, so I decided to sleep in.

I must have spent an hour or so in that state, drifting in and out of consciousness, the comfort of my bed and dreams which were growing more and more erotic, when a noise jarred me. Somebody was coming through the front door.
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The book was old. It was bound in a now faded leather that hinted at the color black. It had several tears that had been stitched shut, some with professional precession and some were rough and untrained. The wear and tear the tomb exhibited could not even begin to tell the tale that lay inside it's pages. If it were to be opened one would find the paper musty,stiff, and yellowed with age. Some of the pages seem to have been torn out leaving only short ragged stubs to testify for their existence. Inside the worn cover of the old book was a short paragraph of small tightly written script pinned in black ink that had long since faded to blue, it read.

“ To my Robin, my daughter, my wife, my lover. You are what kept me going all these years. Yours forever Edward.”

May 19, 1954
I have not been this excited since I was a child on Christmas morning. My name is Edward Blanton, I am twenty nine years old, and I am a ornithologist. That is a bird scientist. I follow birds, watch birds, I love birds, birds are my passion. I will record all of my findings in this journal for posterity, but first I need to explain the adventure I am currently on.

You see there is a little known rare species of bird called the Blue Pope. It is a small bird close cousin to the finch but has a interesting blue coloration that makes it unique. It nests in southern Mexico during the winter months, but no one knows where they go for the summer. The Blue Pope has one other strange quality about it that makes it special. In the small southern town where the birds nest for half the year, it is the only place in Mexico where you can find Pope Berries. The berries are not native to the area and they seem to only begin sprouting when the birds appear every season. This has lead me to believe that the two are tied together somehow.

So no one knows where these strange little birds go for the summer, no one except me. I found out where they have been hiding, on my grandfathers land in Montana. I found this out several months ago when I was going through some of my grandfathers old books and found a sprig of Pope Berries pressed between the pages of one large tomb. When I asked my mother about it she told me it was from the cabin her father owned in the mountains, and that these plants grew wild there. It is a chunk of land closed off in a hidden valley that you had to have a plane to get to. Unless you were willing to hike the two days it took to get to the old cabin and that was a long trip over rough ground.

So here I am on a train to Montanan with my last seventy five bucks in my pocket. I hope that my guess is correct and I find my little birds there.

May 21, 1954
I have walked for the last two days and have finally reached the edge of the valley. I am sitting on the rim of what I can only assume is a old volcano bowl. There is a sizable lake at the very bottom of the crater that I was t Message too long. Click here to view the full text.

About this story and me:

This story will probably take a while to get to the naughty parts. I want to make sure you care about the characters and world I create before I just have them fuck each other. I write my stories as realistically as I possibly can, too, so you probably shouldn’t expect anything too out there from this one. That being said, if at any point you feel that my story features something that you find unbelievable please do not mention it. As much as I love feedback (and believe me, I love feedback) I don’t think comments like that will contribute anything. I’m writing about an already rare and taboo occurrence (incest) from a perspective I don’t have (I’m an upper middle class male) in a 1-in-a-million scenario. Of course some things are going to seem unusual.

I’m not sure what to tag this because I write my stories as I go along and include whatever I feel like. This story mainly features incest and consensual sex between persons under 18 years old. If that bothers you, obviously don’t read it.

Because I write as I go, I may contradict something established earlier. It’s unlikely, but I’m human. If this happens just let me know and I’ll find a way to explain it or (if it’s really bad) plot device it. If I fuck up so badly that even the mightiest of plot devices can’t save me, then I’ll rewrite the story until it makes sense and post it again in a new thread. Again, that is very unlikely.

I really like feedback. If you want to see updates to this story, write a quick comment or suggestion or criticism. The sense of people caring about my stories is the only thing that motivates me to write.

Anyway, Enjoy!
______________________________________________________________________________________________________
~Prologue~


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Primary Tags: futadom, futa on female, sci-fi. Tags are subject to rampant change. Could get extreme later (beast, noncon, piss, asphyx), but no scat, ped, or hard guro.

This is my first attempt at elit (fingers crossed on the formatting). Constructive criticism is welcome. I'll tease you a bit in chapter one, drop the first sex scene in chapter two, and we'll ramp up the freakiness from there, possibly based on you guys' comments. No promises though. I reserve the right to ignore input I don't like.



Vengeance Diplomatic Station, low Earth orbit, 2088

I ducked into the men's bathroom and entered one of the "stalls," though it was really more of a suite than a stall. It was a fully enclosed room the size of a bedroom. It smelled of lavender for fuck's sake, but that's diplomatic stations for you. I wouldn't be surprised if they gilded the toilet paper. Pulling my succubus kit from my pocket, I thumbed a few buttons on its screen. Red text showed records of the hormone and pheromone levels of every being I'd gotten within five meters of throughout the evening. Changes in hormone levels that occurred after looking at or talking to me were highlighted in green. Basically, I could see who wanted to bang me. I scanned the highlighted rows, checking their species. Human, human, human... Damn. None of my targets were responding. Time to change my face and try again.

I tapped another button, and holograms of my preset bodies appeared around me. I allowed myself a grin. Every one of the bodies was a custom design by yours truly, and they were all goddamn masterpieces. Unfortunately, two of these masterpieces had already failed to get a response tonight, not including the body I was currently wearing. I batted away the voluptuous redhead and the androgynous athlete, who both vanished, leaving half a dozen options.

I picked Lail. I always picked Lail when the others fell short. Her hologram looked up at me through her lashes, running her tongue along her bottom lip. Her eyes were black. Deep. I'd spent ten weeks perfecting them, so that you could look down into them for miles and miles and find a secret meaning every step of the way. I reached out to hold her hand. I couldn't touch a hologram, of course, but she responded as though I had, and kept her hand in mine. Her fingers were fragile, with hollow bones. All her bones were like that, to keep her under thirty kilos - light enough to make a lover feel like a god of strength when they lifted her in their arms or pinned
her down one handed. Sure, her body was too lithe to carry the raw sexual appeal of the redhead or the blonde, but I made up the difference with skill. I liked to think of her like a faction in a game. In Starcraft VII: Arbiter of Deception, I'd mess around with the Zerg or the Protoss-Terran Remnant, but when things got competitiv Message too long. Click here to view the full text.

Fey Ozala was her name. She stood out as a rare flower, alone in a field of color. She was studying the falling snow her slender legs firmly planted on landing pad one. She must have been waiting for her appointment, letting the time pass like the people around her, paying them and all no mind. She was elsewhere, dreaming of a better place. Her hair drawn back, her child’s face in the cold air, a bronze pale statue. Pace found himself lost in that vision of a girl maybe 11 years old that had him mystified. Rooted in place, he could not take his eyes from her. He knew he had walked into this moment uninvited, intruding, such beauty not for him.

- “Move idiote!” A men pushing several crates shouted at Pace. “Go dally someplace else… Retardo!”

Aware of the people around him and that he had stared like an idiot at this beauty, Pace walked to the opposite wall of the landing pad and pretended to examine his communicator, while still stealing glances at the girl.

She finally moved, looked towards the entrance and with light steps glided inside. Like from a dream, Pace thought. He had trouble explaining all the feelings this girl had aroused in him. He looked at his watch and since it was time for him to go in as well he hurried after her. Inside she proceeded with assured steps while Pace went to the information desk to ask for directions. By the time he knew where to go, she was long gone. Pace sighted and followed the signs to recruitment room seventeen. That vision of perfection gone.

The medical tests were necessary but his predisposition for the melding had been revealed for over a year now. He hadn’t volunteered before because Pace knew he was scared. Oh he had thought of many other reasons not to join, but deep down it was always the fear which held him back. Now taught, with his parents gone, with the planet at the front lines, he had summoned his courage and failing to find it he had dragged himself here. If the planet was going to fall he would be part of the space forces and maybe just maybe they would evacuate the survivors. Pace knew there were too few ships for the planet’s population, they were too near the enemy for a full star-system evacuation. There was just no time and enough ships for everyone. Priority was given to the well connected and the ones that could afford it. He was neither of the two. The last hope now was with the military. Fighting Defender units were not sacrificed, they were pulled back to the next star system so they could fight again. So if he got in the space defense forces, in the Deffender units, there was a chance. Funny how he had not joined up to now because he was afraid of fighting, now he was joining because he was more afraid of staying behind as the Enemy approached.

Recruitment room seventeen turned out to be more of an psychological assessment Pace thought. He went from answering questions to going trough exerci Message too long. Click here to view the full text.

tags: incest, m/f, outercourse, frottage

later chapters will include sex and oral, but nothing real kinky

Sam looks like http://filefap.com /view/1279532_bxm0q
•••••••••••••

It was time for the yearly family vacation again. I’m not sure why we kept up this tradition as it usually caused more stress than it relieved. But in between the long periods of dysfunctionality, loathing, and irritability that we caused one another while on it, we usually managed to have some shining moment of family fun that my parents would look back on 11 months later and decide it was worth doing again. Isn’t the human mind’s ability to filter memories amazing?

So, once again, my parents, Sarah and John, my older sis, Samantha, and myself would be stuck in a RV on a cross country road trip to see some great American landmark. Cue Weird Al’s Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota. Sam(antha) and I heard the news a week before summer vacation, just long enough for us to properly dread it’s coming and mourn the loss of yet another summer to goof off with friends. Hell, I’d have rather have gotten a job and made some cash. But it wasn’t to be. The Parkers would be going to Key West. This brought mixed reactions from my sis and me. Good food, good weather, beaches? It was too good to be true, I’m pretty sure both Sam and I were waiting for the other shoe to drop. But as our departure date approached, everything seemed to be going fine.

Everyone had packed for the last three days, and my dad was going to pull up with the rented RV any minute now. We lived in Raleigh, North Carolina, so it was going to be a bit of a trip. Since Sam had turned 16 this year, she was really hoping she’d be be able to use her newly acquired learners permit and drive part of the way. She had been moping about for a few days after dad told her she shouldn’t learn on an RV. My dad’s an okay driver but in hilly areas he didn’t feel assured even letting Mom drive. I guess Mom’s better than some, but she’s still a woman. Don’t give me that; like legends, most prejudice is based upon a kernel of truth, and I’ve been driven by enough women to have the experimental data to back it up. So Mom, Sam, and myself, 15 year old Jason Parker, were standing outside on the driveway at an ungodly hour of the morning with a large pile of luggage, waiting to see what sad excuse for a RV would roll in. My parents are both college professors, which is why they can both get the summer off every year, though apparently they go through a lot of trouble to do so. But it also means that Dad is sometimes frugal when I wish he wasn’t.
I looked around, running down my mental checklist. Told all my friends, check. Got my PS2, check. Plenty of underwear, check. Laptop and charger, double check. Toothbrush... that was in my big suitcase, maybe? I ought to check. Message too long. Click here to view the full text.