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!
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~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.

i was feeling kinda creative, so i decided to make a world. steampunk was an afterthought, and i figured i could make it work. feedback is appreciated, but please spare me the tl;dr crap. i know my other story gets that, but for this post at least, i'm using the "giant block of text" effect for my advantage.

Scene: Victorian Age
Labels: fantasy/ mythology, borderline steampunk, plot, 1st person
Kinks: it's a secret


...
Of the orders of nymphae, there are five: gnomes, undines, sylphs, salamanders, and sprites. Each of these corresponds to a specific element of the natural world--earth, water, air, fire, and aether (respectively)--and as such, colloquial terminology calls these creatures elementals. It is commonly misstated that the first of these claimed an essence and that is how they came into being. However, their existence more accurately predates the world. In some circles, it is widely accepted that the mechanisms of nature itself found origin in the nymphae, and indeed that they continue to be carried out through direct influence. This, of course, gives rise to the question of their appearance. Though it is true that nymphae obscure their presence in the material realm on a regular basis, of those that can take physical form, there are numerous. The reason for undergoing this process of materialisation is not fully understood; the human mind finds it counterintuitive, for it has long been known that the life of a nymph is most vulnerable to harm when one assumes a physical state. This is seen most strongly in the case of the sylphs: arguably the most delicate order, there is no factual record to-date depicting a material personification of these creatures. In following that theory, the hardy gnomes are often encountered in nature, as though by some deliberate need for attention.
In this way, that which we see in nature and, in fact, that which we are, existed first in the nymphae. Rock is rigid because gnomes are so, water fluid because the undines are. Even the existence of the aethereal realm has long been questioned, because sprites are sly and scheming creatures. To one who has ever been graced with the sight of a nymph, the form would undoubtedly appear as a human; but this, as with much of our thought, is backward: it is we who actually appear nymph-like. In understanding this sort of precedence, we begin to learn much about the nymphae. For example, being physical creatures, we know very well the limits binding us. The animal form is an assimilation of the five elements: bones, blood, breath, nerves, and soul (respectively). The vegetable form only lacks fire. A nymph, when binding itself to the material, experiences similar limitations, though this depends greatly upon the essence of the individual's nature. Sylphs, if indeed they can be said to take on form, are least bound among the orders, and salamanders second to that, though these Message too long. Click here to view the full text.

I work from home. I’ve been doing it a long time. So I know the comings and goings of my neighborhood. I know that at 1pm every day, the neighbor behind me goes out on the back porch and plays her guitar. I know the guy across the street grows pot. I know a lot about what goes on.

I have a neighbor, Carol. She’s great. She has yard sales most weekends when it doesn’t rain. She’s an older, single woman, with a great-niece. Her name is Tori.

Tori started coming around the neighborhood about 3 years ago. Her parents both work. She goes to school nearby and she started showing up at Carol’s for the afternoons. She’d been around for a couple of weeks before I really noticed her, but when I did, I couldn’t stop noticing her. She’s tallish, about 5’8” or so. Long tan legs, long tan torso, long neck, brown hair, great eyes. And she’s got that slightly underdeveloped, but strong and athletic type of body that screams “I play soccer and I like it”. It also screams “Look at me!”

I spend a lot of time on the phone for my job, and I often go for walks when I have a call. Its more interesting than sitting at my desk staring at my computer—except when there’s a good confession to read. It was on one of my walks that I first noticed Tori. I was about a half mile from home, cruising along at a good pace. Coming toward me was this beautiful, long and lean and tan, adolescent girl. I figured her for about 14 or 15. She was walking a massive collie. I knew the dog. It was Carol’s dog. Like any man, I pulled the stop and wait trick. I stopped suddenly, looked very surprised as though one of the people on the other end of the phone had just said something terrible, and looked like I was listening hard. I let her walk past me and get about 20 feet away, before I rounded, headed back the way I’d come, walking about 20 feet behind her the half mile home. I watched her the whole way.

She was amazing.

I started noticing that she was coming around the neighborhood a lot. I chatted with Carol nonchalantly about things, mentioned working parents, etc., and she mentioned her great niece. So, I used this in to learn about her. Indeed a soccer player, and track. 15 years old. Tori.

I’m a photography enthusiast. I have some good gear. Including a nice 200mm lens that I started using when Tori would sit out on Carol’s grass and do homework, or play with the dog. Late spring and early summer were fantastic. I’d shoot long photos of Tori out there in beautiful light, small, tight outfits, sweating. Oh my god. The sweating. She’d lay out there in a bikini sometimes, tanning with oil on her back, her top untied to get rid of lines. I’d amassed a pretty large photo collection that I would look at during my meetings. During work I would just scroll through the photos looking at her. Then, around 2:45pm, I’d make my way to the front window and watch her walk up. Message too long. Click here to view the full text.

Part 1

You even have ‘One of Those Days’? From the very beginning everything goes haywire and it’s completely downhill from there? Well, welcome to my world.
To start off with the laundry room in my building flooded the day before and it looked like it would be a week for it to get fixed. No big deal, right? Wrong. I hadn’t done my laundry yet and now I was completely without...um...hell, underwear. Yep, I waited too long and now I’m stuck going to work ‘commando.’ Again, no big deal, right? Normally I would agree but I had just started a new job and didn’t want to do anything to screw it up. I didn’t think I would have any....accidents....but why take the chance?
Determined to work through it I put on a dark pair of slacks, cobalt blue dress shirt, off-white tie and my newly shined oxfords and headed out the door to work. Straight into my second slap of the day: a boot on my not-so-new (ok...really old) car. “Oh, for crying out...” I started to say then realized this one was completely on me. Need to really pay more attention to those handicap signs.
All righty then, to the bus we go and fortunately the ride was uneventful. And I only got to work ten minutes late. Normally, that could have spelt my doom but it just so happens on this day my one and only co-worker was also late. As I was sheepishly trying to sneak in the front office door, she was doing the same through the rear office door. We both froze and locked eyes for a moment. She had been working there for a number of years and new all the routines like the back of her hand. She was always polite but I felt that she was a little resentful that the bosses had hired someone new. For what seemed like several minutes we just stared at each other waiting for the other to say or do something. Finally, as if on command, we entered the office, closed our respective doors and strolled to our work areas. There was a note on my desk from one of the bosses informing me that they would both be out the entire day. Well, at least something was going right.
As I said, my co-worker had been in the office for quite a while and had made herself pretty much indispensible to our bosses. When I first started she had to train me on the day-to-day functions as well as special cases in case they popped up when she wasn’t around. And, as I said, she was always polite and professional, but always a little stand-offish. Today was no different.
Even after our mutual lapse in timely arrival she went about as if nothing had happened. After a few minutes she came into my little work area and gave me my tasks for the day. Nothing too difficult as befitting the newbie and promptly left in a swish of her flowery (but professional) skirt.
It was some time before Murphy’s Law struck again. It was just a few hours into the work day and I decided to take a break and get some coffee. The break room was at the back of Message too long. Click here to view the full text.