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/elit/ - Erotic Literature
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Tomboy Misadventures Anonymous 19/09/16(Mon)05:32 No. 26307 ID: 0a182b [Reply]

A love letter to the best loli writers of the site, which are well-known to the point there is no need to say who they are. Or a hate letter for those writers that don't post, but it would be stupid of me. Regardless, here is my take...

On a loli that got fiddled by a tokusatsu fan.


"Why are you looking at my house, you fucking thief-"

After a fight with my family...

Wait. It's best to introduce myself beforehand.

I'm Douglas Rosefeltd, just another salaryman that hates his job. 25, single, and ousted of my household for a mistake I once made during the past. And well, this stupid salaryman had the great idea of going to his first family reunion in 6 years, not knowing that they still hate him to this day.

A good chance to see my old neighbors. They were unaware of what I did and were saddened to see me depart from my mother's house. It was necessary, sadly.
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Anonymous 19/09/19(Thu)10:56 No. 26319 ID: 8eafc9

I'd echo what the previous commenter said. It's clear English isn't your first language, and it's causing a lot of problems with your writing. I honestly don't think you'll be able to really write anything readable without learning English grammar rules a bit more first.

That's not to say that your story is necessarily bad. It's just hard to read and get involved in. Keep practicing.

Anonymous 19/09/20(Fri)06:22 No. 26322 ID: f7d3f6

A good light perv/romance, not looking for War and Peace here. Your writing isn’t abysmal, which a lot of supposedly serious writing is. Not going to quibble about sentence structure and such, what I look for in writing is heart. I have been moved to tears by barely comprehensible prose, because it had just enough of the right words.

Meanwhile, the subject of the “victim” of molestation falling in love with the “perpetrator” is a pretty well-traveled trope, and more common in real life than most people think. Can’t tell if you’re presenting just the first chapter of a more involved story, or a really short story. It reads like a movie trailer, just a teaser. Fleshed out with some more plot and character development, it might make a good actual story.

!dULEx5XrOs 19/09/20(Fri)18:41 No. 26324 ID: 0a182b

English is really my first language, and it takes away my drive to write the rest. But I must try.

Confessions/Sessions Dr. Sleepless 19/08/27(Tue)07:58 No. 26222 ID: b51083 [Reply]

I'm not sure what this is. But if there's an interest, I'll keep it going.

Transcript drawn from tape #2844. Patient: Roger Armstrong (RA) Doctor: William Bates MD (WB). Date: Redacted

RA: [subject is smoking continually] I don’t know. I’ve never told anyone any of this. You can say anything, I mean, if I tell you something it has to stay between us?

WB: That’s correct.

RA: Ok. [subject slumps back into chair] Well I don’t know where to start.

WB: Look, Roger, this is a safe space. You can tell me anything and you can trust that whatever you say will be held in absolute confidentiality. As far as where to start? Well, when you contacted me you said your wife-

RA: Yeah, yeah. I know what I told you.

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Anonymous 19/09/09(Mon)04:15 No. 26288 ID: 33f382

Please continue

The Farm Just Dumb 19/06/14(Fri)21:50 No. 26089 ID: 8d211f [Reply]

Something I've been working on, if people are interested, I'll post more:

The Farm

It was a warm day on the farm. The type of heat that makes you willing to walk around with nothing but shorts on, bare chested in the sun. The temperature was tempered by a slight breeze that had nearly evaporated the sweat off Jason Knauer’s chest and back before he left the intensity of the sun for the cool of the air-conditioned indoors. The chilled air gave him a slight shiver and gooseflesh, his bare nipples hardening against the cool of his kitchen. Jason grabbed his t-shirt off the back of the bar stool, poured himself a tall glass of iced sun tea and headed up to his studio.
To call Jason’s property a farm was being overly descriptive. Craving space from the chaos of the city, Jason had purchased 35 acres out in the countryside on which he grew a modest amount of vegetables and housed four horses. But he considered it his farm, referred to it that way. It was his escape from the rest of society, an isolated space he could work and focus. His routine, especially in the warm days of the summer, included getting up early, tending the horses and turning them out to pasture, weeding and various chores in the vegetable garden and then heading up to his studio to work. Lately, he was working on a novel.
Jason was a writer of what he considered moderate success. Since his second book was published to some acclaim, he hadn’t had to work a day job in years. After his third book, a collection of short stories did better than he’d expected, he purchased his farm and relocated to the country. He kept an address at a small studio in the city which he used only on the occasions he needed to be in for various meetings with publishers. Since the city was over an hour drive away, it was often easier to stay at least overnight, depending on the length of his stay.
When he stayed in the city, Jason employed a neighbor kid, Ashton, (thirteen or fourteen years old, Jason could never keep up) to come take care of the horses in his absence. He also had this kid, teenager or young man really, come over several times a week to muck the horse stalls and mow the lawn. For his labors, Jason paid the kid well, more than he could make for any other summer job. He saw it as a kind of retainer. Since Jason could be away at a moment’s notice, it made sense to have a kind of beckon call situation with the boy.
Jason sat down at this computer and opened his word document containing the novel in progress. He began to write. His main character and heroine, the young twenty something girl navigating her way through college as a poor student had found her way to paying the tuition costs by stripping at a club in one town over. Unfortunately for her, she had seen one of her professors in the audience, and more importantly, he had seen her. When her grades began to slip in this professor’s class, he had offered he Message too long. Click here to view the full text.

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Anonymous 19/07/13(Sat)19:51 No. 26122 ID: 76bc2b

nice, more please, reminds me of Roommates and Darkness at the End of the Tunnel. great read

Anonymous 19/08/12(Mon)10:14 No. 26147 ID: 917942

Applauds author. great story.

Anonymous 19/08/21(Wed)15:54 No. 26184 ID: bbe66b

interesting so far. do go on please.

Traps? Ulta 19/08/20(Tue)02:05 No. 26178 ID: 656f96 [Reply]

Do you know any good trap or cross-dressing stories? I'm kinda new to this and asstr is kinda hard to use.

Ultimate Fantasy Thread 19/06/27(Thu)23:25 No. 26106 ID: 8bf6d2 [Reply]

Your ultimate fantasy thread. Post the thought that gets you off without porn every single time. Straight or gay, I want to read what all your ideal fantasies are like.

None of you have any idea how much this fantasy arouses me. It has been on my mind for about 6 months now and I jack off to it all the time.

TL;DR: At the age of 18, and 13ish years mentally younger than what I should be at my age, an Indian man, looks after me while my parents are away, where he ends up taking his pants off and playing with his hole. He leaves the house with me where we catch a flight back to India and over the decades I grow up to fully depend on him for nutrition and care, using his hole rather than the hand I would have otherwise become fully accustomed to using, a dependence that destroys sexual intimacy with another human as you cannot get off to any other method, not even the newness of a real human orifice.

The thought begins with me being 18 years old, autistic so mentally behind my own age by 13ish years with a babysitter named Amrit who is about 30 years old, slim but toned, very good looking, and who understands that habits and addictions form at a young age, and as we get older we depend on them as if they are drugs. As in the case of using your hand for masturbation, it's a habit that becomes a dependence that completely destroys sexual intimacy with another human as you cannot get off to any other method, not even the newness of a real human orifice.

My parents are gone and we're playing lego and cars and I ram a toy car into his sitting rear as a joke. His face goes from somewhat smiling to a cold, thinking intensity. I do it again not being aware of his mood change and he very soon after lays on his stomach. [From my 27 year old perspective thinking about it, it's clear he enjoys it enough to not being able to resist someone playing with his ass; a sexy quality.] Continuing what my slightly curious but feeble mind thinks is clever, I ride the car over the mound of his rear and up his back laughing, and his expression changes from cold intensity to a slightly thinking, emotionless countenance. He then says "I have an idea", and takes off his pants and underwear and rolls it up to use it as a "mountain" atop his back for the car to drive over. As expected I do the same thing, with him noting my increasing excitement. He stays like that for awhile and then says "wouldn't it be cool if we had a small cave to drive these cars through?" and I say "YEAH THAT WOULD BE SO COOL!", unaware of what he might have in mind. Without hesitation he flips over onto his back throwing his legs back as far as they can go towards his head and openly displays his hole to me, staring at me for quite some time. His hole is of the kind that has line from all directions streaming inwards towards the slit itself [, a quality of tha Message too long. Click here to view the full text.

Pedro 16/06/04(Sat)20:50 No. 24305 ID: 431c24 [Reply]


Anonymous 19/06/23(Sun)16:27 No. 26100 ID: 9e0d76


Implant (tags: tentacle(s), f/f, f/m, science fiction) Rachael Avarie!!IuBGZ0LmOz 12/10/10(Wed)15:56 No. 17365 ID: 4c9640 [Reply] [Last 50 posts]

I re-read a story I wrote some time ago. Then I decided to write some more. If this post's format screws up on 7chan then I apologize, this is my first time posting here.

Since some people may want or need to track this story or other stories I may post, I’ll go by the pen name "Rachael Avarie" here rather than Anonymous. This is the first story/writing I’m sharing with the world, so feedback is especially appreciated.

I considered writing this in first person, but I may be switching point of views, so I’ll stick with third person. I’ll also be writing with spacing between paragraphs because I’m not sure if websites such as this will allow for tab indentation. I’ll leave no line spaces between multiple quotes except between some extra large paragraphs, and will merely use a double star ** to indicate a new speaker, as necessary. Double inverted commas indicate speech; single inverted commas indicate thought, normally. Now although this story is rated as science fiction, I’ve made an effort to make it seem as realistic as possible. I’ve tried to make the character reactions to the unnatural as accurate as a real person’s reaction would be, though at points I’ve had to tone it down to forgo to write too much “gasp, shock, horror, ugh!” character reactions. Hints: the first chapter isn’t very erotic, but the second chapter will have scenes that, hopefully, ‘deliver’ (if you know what I mean ;)

Splurb: Julia is an ordinary 17-year-old girl. She gets implanted with a biological creature that attaches itself to her and starts growing. Don’t want to put too many spoilers here otherwise.

Tags: tentacle(s), f/f, f/m, science fiction

Chapter 1

Tuesday, school was out. Julia Sharinotte hated this walk home. That wasn’t to say it was sleazy, nor impossibly far, but something seemed off about one particular building. She’d be damned if she was going to walk around the block, however. Julia walked swiftly, ignoring the sights and the smells around her. Her mother was a quarter Japanese, though they’d all been born in the US. She considered herself an average girl, definitely of average height, though prettier than average, with long dirty-blonde hair, pale blue-green eyes. Her face had a touch of freckles, and she had B-cups, wrapped onto a slender, 17-year old frame. Her best friend certainly didn’t consider her average; she was always gushing about how gorgeous she was, about how unfair it was that she didn’t have to wear makeup. Oh Julia wore makeup, the tiniest amount she considered healthy, but she hated eyeliner. In her opinion, it destroyed a person’s face, more often than not.

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Rachael Avarie!!IuBGZ0LmOz 19/05/27(Mon)00:25 No. 26076 ID: b0999c

Wow it's been a while. I have been busy. What's happened since I last posted? I moved home (4 times), changed jobs (3 times), moved to another country, got writers block, lost a bunch work on this story due to changing to a different hard drive... but here we go!

Disclaimer: All names, places, people, ideas herein are 100% fictional. But you already knew that. Not really any lewd content in this chapter, but the story makes some progress.

Chapter 11

A siren pealed through the night, cutting off abruptly, as a fourth police car all but squealed to a halt off a slight bend along Rigby Road. There was an ambulance too, though things seemed a bit unhurried with the paramedics. Three of them stood in a circle talking softly, as the police drew up yellow tape, cordoning off part of the road. A stunned truck driver sat on the bank staring blankly, as a policeman stood nearby, holding a notepad and taking notes. Another walked up, muttered something to the other, who shook his head, and then moved closer to the truck driver, demanding something a bit louder. The driver gestured down the road, then pointed toward the paramedics. It was a dark evening, and growing darker, but the pool of blood on the gravelly tar was clearly visible, and everyone nearby was side-stepping it.


Mrs Gia Sharinotte dialed a client, tapping her long nail sporadically on the softwood, browsing her online business' website. She liked to let the phone ring about 12 times. Less, and she might as well not be trying, more, and well... it could be considered rude or persistent if her client was in the middle of something. She hung up after 14 rings. She stood up, leaving the phone lying on her desk. She went to the bathroom, it was a nice day, perhaps she could get some washing on. She needed a distraction, something was bothering her. She grabbed some clothing tossed carelessly on the floor, and heaped it into a nearby washing basket, then went the short distance to Julia's room. She knocked softly, waited a bit, then knocked more loudly. Odd, Julia was normally up early. She turned to leave, then had a second thought, and opened the bedroom door. The room was dark, the curtains mostly drawn, the bed partially made - and empty, a few school books scattered on the desk, and a stray blouse over the back of a chair. She left the blouse, Julia was probably planning on wearing it still, but the pair of socks on the floor - those went into the wash. She frowned, closing the door softly behind her. Julia must have gone out early. She was a fairly independent girl, so Mrs Sharinotte was not overly worried. She went off to do the washing, putting it out of mind for the time being.


Saturday morning passed, Sandy felt like a complete and utter laze, finally getting out of bed at 10:30, when an annoying neighbor started his lawn mower. She grabbed breakfast, headphones and her lapto Message too long. Click here to view the full text.

Anonymous 19/06/11(Tue)02:52 No. 26087 ID: dc4418

Four years later, an update! Glad you're alive OP, this story's quite interesting.

Can't wait to see what happens next.

Anonymous 19/08/19(Mon)04:44 No. 26169 ID: 6ff88b

Holy fucking shit it lives! I haven't seen a comeback as unexpected but welcomed since Camp Sherwood. This is why 7 will always be the superior chan.

Monster Girl. The Clockwork Corpse!!L5LwZ1LmIz 13/01/02(Wed)07:01 No. 18001 ID: 7a73e9 [Reply] [Last 50 posts]

Look, no time to explain, but here.


Now this.


The first thing he became aware of was the sounds. Rhythmic, aquatic, the lapping and crashing of ocean waves. Such sounds, though as soothing and nostalgic as they were, were not the same sounds he was supposed to be hearing. Then came the pain. Sharp, stabbing, burning. Then came the light. The bright, blinding light. A sun. With a groan he tried to pick himself up, his whole body screaming out in protest as he forced himself to his hands and knees. Through clouded vision he stared at the sand beneath him, stained red and caked with blood. A small wave of salt water came to wash it away, only to spread it around, the white sands taking a pinkish hue. Willing more strength, he pushed himself up, and finally looked at his surroundings.

A long sandy beach stretched far in both directions, before him a thick green forest. Hissing in pain he looked to his side to see a gruesome wound, still bleeding and covered in sand and sea water. He looked behind him; nothing but a vast and endless ocean. Ever slowly, his mind began to clear, and though still groggy from the pain and unconsciousness, he began to remember. The ship. He was on the ship. He remembered that he was in his quarters catching up on his studies when he heard the alarm blaring over the ship’s intercom. Fear gripped him and he ran to his appointed station, ready either to brace for impact or be jettisoned in an escape pod to safety. The very last thing he remembered was the captain calling over the intercom, though he couldn’t remember what it was he was saying before everything when black and silent.

He once more looked around himself; scattered around where various metallic shards of what was most likely part of the ship, though he really couldn’t tell since nothing really struck him as familiar. But then he returned to the beach and the forest. The ship wasn’t even near any planetary object; in fact last he remembered the ship was in a ‘dead zone’; a large portion of space between planets where communication were limited and pirate attacks were common. Then again, a heavily armed military freighter wasn’t a prime target for pirates, so they couldn’t have been attacked. But, then, where was he? Is he, dead? This place was beautiful and he did thought he was in heaven, but then the pain in his side changed that thought. He can’t be in hell; where was all the fire, the screaming souls of the damned? Was he in the in-between? Limbo? He didn’t know, but nonetheless he couldn’t stay here.

Basic training kicked in, as he forced himself to his feet, ignoring the pain in his side, and stumbled for the tree line. He quickly became aware of his current wellbeing. A few cuts and bruises here and there, but aside Message too long. Click here to view the full text.

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Anonymous 16/05/07(Sat)19:39 No. 24254 ID: 81f838


Anonymous 16/05/08(Sun)06:43 No. 24255 ID: 62b1d7


Are you fucking kidding me? There hasn't been a new chapter in three years. Stop it.

Anonymous 19/04/17(Wed)18:10 No. 26054 ID: 953b39

well we're forever hopeful. 6yrs and still waiting

Breeding Partner odiscipline!!xlAmp4BJLj 19/04/13(Sat)01:26 No. 26048 ID: 3093c9 [Reply]

Time for some more of that low story/nothing but sex purple prose:


It is morning, time for me to be mated.

The cage is undone, and I am led to my "wife". A small, beech colored, Asian woman, Xhu, brought for me 2 and so years ago. When I enter, she scrambles on her knees to kiss me. It is an awkward kiss, both our hands tied behind our back, but it is loving enough, and master and mistress allow it for a time.

They separate us, and begin massaging our genitals to readiness. Me and my mate look lovingly at each other as we are fondled to excitement: though we are not married beyond breeding with each other, we do have a fondness for one another, for our bodies, and our service. We both realize that our bodies belong completely to Master and mistress, and it is an honor to copulate for them, to breed for them, to give birth for them, and to surrender the children we produce to them, for master and mistress to use as they will. In the 2wo or so years that we have been bred, we have produced offspring for our owners twice, once a boy, and once a pair of girls. After each breeding, the children were allowed to stay with Xhu, just long enough to breast feed them to some sturdiness, before they were taken upstairs into the master's chambers. What happens to them there, whether they are made slaves like us, sacrificed, sold, I cannot say. I do not care, nor does Xhu. Our only purpose in life is to labor and love for the pleasure and benefit of master and mistress.

Xhu is laid back onto the breeding and birthing bench, her legs spread, revealing the sweet, tight little bean that I am to pierce. 3 babies, and her slit is almost as tight and smooth as mistress's. I hobble to my mate, dick awkwardly bouncing as I scramble on my knees, and like an animal, I lower myself onto her, shuddering with pleasure as her wet lips close around my invading member.

"Ahhhhh" we both moan softly, as our genitals firmly lock together.

I begin to thrust and hump, as Xhu wraps her legs tightly around me: it is not an ideal mating: we both have our hands bound behind us, so we may not embrace as such. The mating table though, is at an incline, and so it takes little effort for me to lie atop the nubile Asian, and buck my hips as nature so intends in this circumstance. It is the pleasure that master grants and allows, and that is enough for us both.
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Anonymous 19/04/14(Sun)23:01 No. 26051 ID: d3581d

Hot as fuck. Looking forward to more.

Canvas Stef 14/11/21(Fri)22:14 No. 22859 ID: ebd7e7 [Reply]

(mind control, gender change, solo, m/f)

The first time it happened, I didn't know what I was doing.

I hadn't been able to sleep. This wasn't especially abnormal, but usually I'd have to skip a night's rest and then the next day I'd be able to get a few hours in. Enough to feel human.

This was study hall, which amounted to a blow off class for most of us. I was going on 72 hours without any shuteye and while the girls in front of me were playing a card game and the football guys were talking about freshman girls in the corner behind me, I was resting my head on my arms and trying to count some sheep.

I had been becoming more and more serious in art class over the last few years and now that I was a senior, art had become my calling. The teacher had let me move from pencils to colored pencils to paint by the time I was a sophomore and I was a regular in highschool art exhibitions now. This got me out of P.E. and needing fine arts credits and with most of my serious classes done now, I could use art class as an excuse to get half days when I wanted them.

The lack of sleep was beginning to affect my work, though, so I slowed my breathing and ignored the noise everyone was making in an attempt to get some of that back. My social life was basically nil due to what my doctor said might be a rare form of autism. I find it hard to meet people, and my sex drive suffers from the antidepressants. Painting really is all I have, most days.

Sleep came over me like it usually did, a fickle thing that came when I was at the breaking point. Sometimes, due to my restlessness, I have what they call lucid dreams. Sitting in studyhall, I was aware that I was asleep, but still cognizant enough to know that I was sleeping. Most of my rest is that way.

This time, everything was even more vivid than usual. I could actually see the girls there having a conversation. I moved over to them, looking over my shoulder to see myself sleeping still. A haze hung over the classroom, like they were playing cards in a burning building. Somewhere, in a dense bank of black clouds in the corner, I could hear the football players laughing about something.
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Anonymous 16/03/01(Tue)15:31 No. 24138 ID: f7b914

would like this to be continued

Anonymous 16/04/29(Fri)07:02 No. 24233 ID: cd9818

Such a good concept,dont stop now!

Anonymous 19/04/06(Sat)08:50 No. 26040 ID: a26e45

No question, this HAS to continue. I hope that the main character figures out how to keep jumping from body to body, slowly increasing his control... and how extreme his appetites become.

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