E.M. Beastly's Blog, page 3

My Other TumblrHey everybody. I have created a more adult...

My Other Tumblr

Hey everybody. I have created a more adult oriented Tumblr account full of monster sex. I will be doing some quick writing exercises over there and sharing some lovely and sexy art.

https://embeastly-gallerythings.tumblr.com/post/187310199692/artist-is-lacrimale-but-the-erotic-stories-are-by

Monstrous Lust: Sister’s Sex StoriesAnother weird story of sex,...

Monstrous Lust: Sister’s Sex Stories

Another weird story of sex, monsters and a sister’s love. It’s weirder than you think!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07WCH92FB

Synopsis: 

I have finally found my stepsister after many years of searching. If she hadn’t have sent me that letter I would have thought her dead. She is living in a small mountain town and has invited me to live with her. I can’t wait! She says she has so many stories to tell me. Stories full of fantasy, adventure and sex. I’m intrigued.
When I arrive to reunite with her, I find that her stories are much more than childish fun. Her stories are far naughtier and full of sinful lust than I anticipated. There is something wrong with this town!

Sample: 

My sister is a sound sleeper. I don’t think she moved
at all while I lay by her side. Nor did she awake when the sun finally rose.
The morning seemed to come much quicker once I crawled in bed with her. I still
didn’t get any sleep. Nevertheless, I took the opportunity to leave her bed
before she awoke. I would sleep later. For now, it was best she didn’t catch me
in her bed.

A cold shower is what I needed. Sneaking back into
the hall, I found the bathroom again. As I made my way, the house remained
eerily quiet. Nobody but me was moving about the old house. I intended, as soon
as my shower was over, to learn more if I could. Though that all depended if I could
find the host who had guided me.

The cold water was exactly what I needed. It
instantly refreshed me and made me ready to take on the day regardless of my
lack of sleep. I was still excited by the fact that I had found my sister, and that
I could talk with her again. Yes, with her by my side, maybe I could pick up
the pieces of my shattered life. We could forget the tragedy of our childhood
together. Something I couldn’t do alone.

Suddenly, the shower’s water turned hot, and with the
sudden change in temperature came an accompanying voice.

“Jesus, brother, how can you stand the
water so frigid?”

“Tanya!” I exclaimed as I
turned to watch her enter the tub from behind me. I never heard her enter the
room. Never mind that, I was too busy
backing away from her while trying to hide my nakedness.

“Tanya, what are you doing? I’m naked… You’re
naked! I’m taking a shower!” I stammered.

“So? I need a shower. It’s not like we didn’t
grow up together.”

“But…but I’m your brother, you’re my
sister!” I stammered. I knew I should be doing something more. I should be
trying to leave respectfully, or at least turn my head away and stop looking at
her naked body, but I couldn’t.

“Stepsister, I was your stepsister. That was a
long time ago. Besides, I have missed you,” she said as she reached out
and touched my hand.

“I waited for you last night to show, but then I
didn’t hear from you and it got so late. I was worried you wouldn’t make
it,” she said tenderly as she caressed my hand.

I was absolutely sheepish. Though Tanya had made the
water steaming hot, my body acted as if I was being pelted with frigid snow. Tanya’s
naked body was so close to mine and my mind was racing. Though I had slept next
to her, I only did so for the warmth of her bed. I kept my eyes, my mind and my
body away from her. Did she know about last night? If so, why didn’t she say
anything? Why did she let me do it?

“I… uh… ” I stammered but I couldn’t
find anything to say.

Tanya smiled. “We have a lot to catch up on, you
and I.” She said as she bit her lower lip and looked at me in the most
inappropriate manner. “I have heard you haven’t been doing so well? …I
see you got away from mother, so it can’t be all bad.”

“Well, I… ah…” I stammered again. I
couldn’t converse with her while her naked, wet body stood so close to my own.

“Don’t worry brother. You can stay with me now.
I run a bookstore here locally and I could use a hand with it. We can run it
together. It’s a fantastic little shop. It’s bright, colorful, and full of all
those naughty books of fantasy and adventure mother never would let us have. I
even have a copy of ‘The Last Unicorn,’ your favorite story.

"I- I remember when you stole it from the
library,” I replied sheepishly as I tried to get my mind off looking at
Tanya’s body while my cheeks glowed red. “Mother was really, really mad at
you when she found out.”

“Yes, indeed she was. That doesn’t matter here.
This place, the town, it is something different. You wouldn’t think it at first
look but this little town loves stories of fantasy and adventure.”

“I-uh-oh? Well that, that sounds good.” I
said, while still being too distracted by Tanya’s breasts.

She had grown out since the last time I remember.
Then again, I never had them strewn out wet and naked before my eyes. They were
beautiful and looked soft and silky to the touch under the splattering rainfall
of shower droplets.

“That’s why we got to hurry. That is
why I’m jumping in the shower with you so I can get to the store and open it in
time. I hope I’m not making you too uncomfortable?” she finished saying
with a teasing smile as she flicked my nose gently.

“Now let me have the lion’s share of the water
so that I can quickly wash up, and while you’re at it why don’t you wash my
back?” she said as she pushed me aside….Continued in the story

E.M. Beastly’s 12th Monster Sex Story Bundle is...

E.M. Beastly’s 12th Monster Sex Story Bundle is Here!

myBook.to/Bundle12

It’s the 12th story collection of weird sex and pleasure by author E.M. Beastly. Stories full of ghosts, monsters, werewolves and other beasts that crave the naked flesh of mortal women. They haunt the dark and weird places of the earth, but unlike most other terrible places of grim horror you may want to actually visit these.

Stories Include:
NIGHT GALLERY: of monster sex and debauchery
Devil’s Sin on Lust’s Street
Nymphs for the God of Lust
The Cat of Ulthar
Cathouse Pleasures
Lustful Outing

Here, read a taste!

Prelude

The Cat Wife Returns

 He couldn’t stop
thinking about her; the ‘Cat of Ulthar.’ He wanted to slay the beast that
everyone said haunted the old city that had long since disappeared due to its
queer ways. He wanted to prove himself as a strong and brave man in the eyes of
his peers, but most importantly to his wife. She was the most beautiful
creature he had ever known, and every man was jealous of him. In fact, they all
hated him because they said he was not the suitable man to be having a wife
like that. She was an aristocrat’s wife, a knight’s wife, or a wife for someone
else of importance. She was not a woodcarver’s, nay a toymaker’s wife. He had
defied the social order by marrying outside his class and status, and for that
they would not forgive him.  

That is why he had to
try and slay the beast of legend. If he could do that one thing, perhaps he
would get respect. More importantly, he would gain respect for himself, to
stand up for himself and no longer be bullied. His wife always stood up for
him, she was always there to protect him. He wondered how Ana put up with him,
even if she always told him she loved him for exactly who he was. Without her
he would be nothing, and he loved her dearly beyond anything he could imagine.

Then he went into that
old city of legend; into the streets of Ulthar where he found that creature.
She did things to him.

He didn’t stand a
chance. What was he thinking? He was but a simple carpenter who made toys. He
did not know how to wield a sword, and that creature was both a monster and a
witch. She had seduced and overpowered him easily. Then that creature had raped
him. For one whole night that creature had forced him into her earthy den and
pleasured her body with his.

And yet, his body
responded in kind. He rebelled against it, but the more she forced him the more
his body demanded it. He feared he had taken that creature more that night than
all the times he had with his lovely wife. His wife, a woman more beautiful and
giving than any other, who loved him more than any other; yet, his dick yearned
to penetrate that beast even now. He remembered her potion, the fragrant drink
she forced through his lips from her vile cup. The same cup that suckled his
cock until he came so hard and frequently that he passed out from exhaustion.

Yes, that vile creature
had cursed him. He could feel his body wanting to change, especially when the
moon was full. His thoughts kept drifting back to her and her vibrant colors
and fragrant smells. He did everything he could to keep from pleasuring himself
from the tormenting thoughts and dreams, and everything to stay loyal to his
kind and sweet wife. He would have ended it sooner with the noose in his
woodshop, but his wife, his loving and caring wife, wouldn’t let him.

He tried to fight it
with all his might, but the feline witch kept calling out to him, telling him
to join her in her weird paradise. He had to keep trying, for Ana. He really
didn’t deserve her, and yet, she was always there for him. Why she had chosen
him out of all the others, he still wondered. He was nothing compared to other
men. And now he learned that she had gone to try to slay the beast herself for
his honor. It was too much to ask. It was too much to bear. If only she knew
what the 'Cat of Ulthar’ really was.

“God why!” He
cried out alone in the dark of his workshop, “Why did you have to do that?
You could have stayed here. Let me die so that you could find somebody better
than some poor old toymaker. It was always meant to be. Just listen to the
neighbors; they would all seem to agree. Now I don’t know what has happened to
you. If I go to find you, I fear what will happen. I fear that this curse will
take me over and I shall lose myself. You have no idea what that creature has
done to me!”

…“Oh, but I
have.” said a feminine voice in the shadows.

She was up high in the
rafters, a long slender shadow with voluptuous feline features. The eyes were
what pierced him. They glowed like ghastly embers with a coal black dagger
shaped pupil piercing the middle.

“You!” He said
with his self-loathing redirected at this invader.

“You have come for
me again? What have you done with my wife?” He said, feeling the dark
urges boiling up inside himself.

“Honey, I am your
wife.” The creature said as she came into the light.

The monster wasn’t the
same she-beast from before, he could see that immediately. Nonetheless, she was
a feline monstrosity much more slender and sleek than his first assailant. She
also lacked the distinguishable vibrant purple and orange colors, or the
sinister wide grin. Nay, this one was a shimmering black cat, long and
beautiful like an arrow. It stood up like a person with an unusual grace. It
was then that he could recognize the shapes and curves of her body. It was Ana;
his wife had come home from her adventure.

“My husband, I am
glad to see that you are well.” She said to his speechless and wide eyed
self. “I was so afraid you would try and hurt yourself again. I went to
Ulthar to save you…”

“What has she done
to you? She has cursed you!”

“Yes, and now we
are cursed together. I know that she has done the same to you. You fight
against it out of shame and fear. But now you don’t have to. We can be cursed
together…”

He couldn’t believe it,
he didn’t want to believe it, but the moment she began to touch and caress him,
he knew it was Ana.

“My God, why? Why
did you do this for me?”

“Because you were
the fool who did it first. We are both fools who did things for each other, and
we paid the price. But it isn’t so bad, I think. You’ll see when we get
there… back where we now belong. Now kiss me, I know that you’ve been wanting
to do this.”

He couldn’t resist as
the creature leaned forward and planted her muzzle onto his lips. Her lips were
just like that devil’s in Ulthar. If it hadn’t been for the curse that she had
put into his veins he would be far more resistant to this. The 'Cat of Ulthar,’
who would ever think that the legend of a terrible beast would be such a
seductress. His wife’s new body had silky soft fur, just like hers. He could
feel his body react with excitement.

“God, how did that
devil do this to my wife? Does it have no shame?” He thought quietly as he
slumped to his workshop floor with this creature on top of him.

He wasn’t going to fight
her, he had no reason to. He was already damned. If this was his wife, his only
true love in this life who was willing to accept the things he had done, then
he would accept the things she had become. Besides, it wouldn’t be long now;
this moment was awakening the curse. Soon, it wouldn’t matter what had been
done, or that his wife was this creature that passionately kissed him.

The beast inside him
grew more anxious. His kisses grew into sexually exciting licks, grabbing her
tongue with his. “Oh yes,” his instincts told him excitedly,
“she has the same tongue like that devils. Will my wife know how to use it
like she did?” He grabbed her breasts. “Oh yes,” He said out
loud, “Your breasts are like they have always been. I don’t care that they
are fur bound.” And he took to suckling them like a kitten.

She was the same wife as
she had always been, but she had that taint on her, and his taint acted in
kind. His dick was hard and he just wanted to fuck her like an animal. He had
ever since returning from his journey, but he was afraid of the monster inside
himself. It was now releasing with a predatory fury. So much pent up anger and
self loathing at the things he had done, now turned into blissful joy.

He didn’t even have time
to take off his clothes before the changes started. Muscles bulged and fur
sprouted; wild, vibrant fur like a tigers. The changes didn’t hurt; he hardly
noticed them. It became a bit stranger to kiss his wife, and he took to licking
her like an animal, or more precisely, grooming her like a cat.

“Husband hurry
stick your cock inside me. I want to feel you change inside of me.” His
wife begged.

There was no asking him
twice. His newfound animalism took over and what was left of his trousers he
shredded of with emerging claws on his fingertips. He grabbed his dick and
watched in amazement as it grew in his hand. The changes felt weird and only
helped excite him further. It grew longer and thicker as it began to change
shape and color. He watched as little spiny protrusions began to form around
its tip. But before he could admire it further, his cat wife sat on top of it and
plunged it deep into her furry hole.

It was then that he lost
all control. The monster he was cursed to become, the one he spent since his
time in Ulthar trying to tame even if it meant taking his own life, broke free.
He grabbed his mate like the beast that he was, flipping her around and sank
his tiger sized maw into the back of Ana’s neck. There, he proceeding to fuck
her like the beasts they both were. Ana howled as his dick grew bigger inside
of her. The nodules and spines became more pronounced all over his cock. It was
now a monstrous plaything meant for a monstrous man and his monstrous wife.

Pleasure and pain seared
the black kitten beneath him. She howled, hissed and purred over the way her
lover was taking her. It was a way he never dreamed he would take his wife
before. She howled for the both of them as he held onto her with all intent of
never letting go.

That night all the
neighbors would hear their passion, and all the town and the town next to it.
All would talk about the howls and

Lustful Outing is Finally...

Lustful Outing is Finally Here!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07SMT4ZHK

Synopsis: 

Evelyn was getting over a nasty divorce. Florence, her daughter, wanted to get away from her mother. Unfortunately for her, her mother insisted they do some mother/daughter bonding by going camping together. Florence knew it was just an excuse for her mother to cry on her shoulder. It didn’t help that they found that lake; the one hidden in the pines. Nor did it help that her mother was attracted to something living in the lake. Deep within its depths lay something ancient and foul. It has plans to help Evelyn with her troubled divorce by showing her a monstrously lustful good time. Florence better be careful, because her mother may just want her to join in on the fun.

A little Taste:

Florence didn’t know how long she laid on the cheap carpet
floor. She had been sleeping or at least lying lazily as one does after being
purely exhausted. Now she was awake again, utterly awake with her heart
pounding with apprehension. It was if someone had called her by name. Yet, all
she could hear was the crickets chirping and the owls hooting. It was the glow,
that greenish glow from the lake; it had caught up to her. It flooded through
the small windows, drenching Florence
in emerald green.

Florence sat up. Something was at the window. At first, she
thought them fingers, but they were too long and spindly. They squirmed and
wriggled as the wormed their way inside. The windows were open. Florence had forgotten
that they had been left open because of how hot and stuffy it could get in this
small box. Now these things were slithering inside; pouring in like a nest of
serpents.

Florence shrieked, the floor was already writhing. Black
tentacles throbbed and pulsed. Their tips came to a tapered end, which made
them look like big black cocks.

Quickly they slithered up her legs. They were wet,
warm and had a strange texture unlike anything Florence had felt before. She tried to get
them off but their grip was strong, just like a serpent’s. Where her hands touched
them some wrapped around her fingers and quickly went up her arms. Soon she was
restrained and couldn’t fight them at all.

In the glow, she felt them begin to squeeze into the armholes
of her shirt and up into the legholes of her shorts. Florence tried to scream but one fat tentacle
rushed up through the front of her shirt and forced its tapered head into her
mouth.

She could only use her tongue to explore this oral
invader. Her fear kept her from understanding what these things were and what
they were doing to her body. She could only feel them slither further into her
clothes. They swarmed across naked skin, getting into her panties and under her
bra.

Florence didn’t want to believe they were real, and if they
were real she wished they were something else. Yet, in that green glow she
could see they were cocks; giant throbbing black cocks.

“We can have so much fun together, you and I. We
can fuck all the men we want together. It’s just sex. Trust me; it’s not that
big a deal,” a voice that sounded like her mother’s, came from somewhere
outside.

Was it seriously her mother? Florence couldn’t tell. Something about her
voice seemed sinister and wrong. Yet, what was she to do about it? What was to
become of her? She could already feel the slippery tentacles penetrate her
flesh. She could feel something creamy spray into her mouth, which she was
forced to choke on and spit up and dribble down her chin. The things in her bra
were tossing her tits about like rough man hands.

Monstrous Lust: Cathouse...

Monstrous Lust: Cathouse Desires

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07R2216Z8

This is my second story that takes an erotic take on Lovecraft’s story, “The Cats of Ulthar.” 

Synopsis:

With an imagination, we can invent whole worlds to ourselves, and even create an imaginary friend or two. Deep in the woods, the imagination of one woman may create her more than just a couple of friends. The town of Ulthar is a wondrous place where one’s sexual imagination can explore new kinks and go on strange adventures of lust. The town of Ulthar is a town of cats.

Small Sample:

I had not left Ulthar. I must have become turned
around. All around me were the ruins of old houses and buildings. Strangely, I
must have found a new area, for these structures were more than just mere
foundations. My heart sank as it only could mean I was lost and I had no idea
how to escape.

The further I traveled in the darkness the more my
flashlight discovered structures that were more complete. Had I not explored this
place as thoroughly as I believed? These buildings were nothing like the tired
shells full of haunted halls that the neighboring town possessed. Somehow,
these seemed both older yet in far better condition - almost as if they were
still in use. A faint light glowed from the window of a building not far from
me but was obscured by thick bushes and tall trees. It was a small beacon of
respite from the watchful eyes of all these cats who watched me with menacing
intent.

It had a warmth to it, not the warmth of a candle or
a fireplace, but the warmth of a safe haven. It drew me to it like the many moths
that fluttered about it wanting to get inside. For the moment, I could ignore
the cats and the dark, that was until I saw what was inside.

Cats dwelled both in and out of these dwellings. This
was a town of cats. Only inside, in the privacy of their homes, they were much
bigger and walked on two legs instead of four. I must be going mad. The lines
between reality and fantasy had cracked. No matter how much I tried to look
away or rub my eyes, what I was seeing was more than just imaginary phantoms
playing about my mind’s eye.

The cats were in the throes of lovemaking: Not in the
same way that wild animals do it - with the female on all fours, but in the way
compassionate humans like it. The two were in union so that they could watch
the other’s reaction and to sneak in a kiss, or lick, as was the case with
these feline lovers. The tom was another orange tabby while the female was a
black kitten from the blackest of midnights. She had exceptional orange eyes that
were like two little lanterns all their own. Both were fluffy and thick, cute
and adorable creatures; nothing like the night creatures I was fond of
summoning. I quickly found myself aroused, amused and envious of the female
creature enjoying her monstrous kitty slowly grinding his soft body against
hers.

New StoryMonstrous Lust: Nymphs for the God of...

New Story

Monstrous Lust: Nymphs for the God of Lust

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07PRBW2X6

Synopsis:

It’s a strange place, but I don’t know how else to describe it or the impression it made upon me. It’s a simple glen in the woods. It is quite dense in flowers, mushrooms, mosses and other low growing things. The whole ground is so well carpeted that anyone could walk across it easily barefoot without trouble. I suppose this was all ordinary enough. However, something about it impressed upon me a profound emotion. I felt terrified because of how alien this impression was. Yet, I was also fascinated and found myself stirred by it in ways that seemed oddly sensual and erotic.
It seemed to me that as I examined these images further the ordinary elements came together to form a separate image. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes, it had to be a trick; some sort of optical illusion. Nevertheless, the longer I examined it the more clearly it became. I saw a figure as plain as day; a female figure, naked and robust. She dominated the landscape. It was as if some spirit of the forest was posing, and doing so in the lewdest and most seductive of ways. She posed with legs spread, her body ready for me.

Monstrous Lust: Devil’s Sin an Lust’s...

Monstrous Lust: Devil’s Sin an Lust’s Street.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07NJ2XQQ9

The story is finally complete.

This is a two part story all bundled into one purchase: The English Manuscript and the American Manuscript.

I am going to share with you know the English Manuscript.

Prologue

It was while stumbling about the clutter of my aunt’s
attic in her old Victorian home that I stumbled upon the curious letters. They
were hiding behind some crumbling plaster with many other old notes and
newspaper clippings. They were among many other things that I would have loved
to ask my aunt. However, now that she had passed, they were just another puzzle
piece to a growing mystery surrounding her life.

It was entirely possible that these things did not
relate to her. The house was old and I did not know for sure the time period of
which she had lived out her life inside these walls.  

Neither myself nor any of those who knew her in life
ever believed she lived such a promiscuous life. She seemed to be an atypical
conservative type for her age and a respectable woman of her generation. Then
again, everyone always seems to have skeletons in their closets, and now that
she had passed, hers were bleeding out of her walls.

Still, even if all that I found was hers, it did not
bother me all that much. Sure, it made me view her differently, and it was best
that I did not share my discovery with others who saw her more highly.
Nevertheless, it made me smile to know that even the most conservative among us
still had their urges and impulses.

It made me smile to know that her impulses, if these
letters and articles were to be believed, were not in any way toned down just
because of the dates stamped on them. It only proved that the raunchy and
extreme perversions of human lovemaking have never been original or newly
invented. The obsession with genitalia and how best to pleasure them through
various sex acts are apparently as old as humankind.

Nevertheless, I found myself drawn away from all the regular
explicitly carnal literature. For within all the descriptions of phalluses
being licked as if they were some sort of children’s candied treat or the
stories of all-night orgies where the game was to see how many men or woman one
person could take before sunrise, there existed two unusual manuscripts.

Each manuscript told their own story, and each
originated from different places. The first was written in England, the second from America. Both letters were written
close to the same time and dealt with similar if not related events. Neither
author appeared to be aware of the other, and yet, the American manuscript
seemed to cast some light on the strange disturbances described by the English
one.

If it had not been for how well they so keenly
referenced each other I would have dismissed them both as being fairytales of a
disturbingly erotic nature. They were oddities amongst the stashed collection of
what others might call porn.

The English Manuscript

 

I am writing this for Clara, when she comes back from
his travels abroad.

If she does not find me here, if I, along with my
friends have been swallowed up by the mystery that surrounds us, I want her to
know what happened during the days’ wild gods came to play. It will be the best
proof of my affection for my sister. Something I know will be hard to
understand once the story of this madness is told. It takes great courage for a
woman to keep a journal cataloging such things. I feel that it is important. If
I am gone, it will hardly matter anyway about what whomever reads of this
thinks of me. As long as this story is told, at least then Clara will have
this.

After the death of our mother, I did not want to go
on living in that sad house. The Mitford sisters offered for me to stay with
them. They live in an apartment in the Shambles of York.

In this cluttered dwelling of books, paintings and
engravings, Nancy,
Diana, and Deborah were adorable maids who used all their ingenuity to make the
life pleasant for me. While Meredith, my maid, came with me and found favor in
the eyes of Gordon Roux, the Mitford family cook, who was said to have turned
down ducal offers in order to remain in the humble service of the mistresses.

All was well until that evening…

On that evening, which was to bring unspeakable
events into our lives, we had decided against going to a celebration near
Feasegate because it was raining in torrents. Gordon Roux, who liked us to stay
home, had made us all an outstanding supper: grilled trout and a guinea hen
pie. Nancy
searched the cellar and come up with a brandy that had been aging there for many
years. When the table was cleared, the beautiful dark liquor was poured into
Bohemian crystal glasses.

We enjoyed ourselves in simple comfort and to the
sound of rain gently pattering against the windows and cobblestones. When the
clocks chimed eight, I was sitting by the fire, my head in a book. Meredith
asked if she could go to bed, while all the rest were helping Deborah with her
embroidery.

It was then, as Meredith headed up the stairs, that a
strong breeze rattled outside, dispersing the rain into a silvery mist.
Somewhere on one of the upper stories a window slammed shut.

“Tis the attic window,” Nancy said, “It was jammed open and the
breeze must have broke it free.” She then raised a scarlet-red curtain and
looked down the street. “It has suddenly become so dark. I have never seen
it this dark before. I am not sleepy, and I certainly have no desire to go to
bed. I feel as though this darkness would follow me.”

“You’re talking nonsense,” was the reply
given by Diana. “But if no one is else is going to bed, let’s do as men do
and fill our glasses again.”

She quickly went off before anyone could protest. Upon
her arrival, she had also brought with her three beautiful Sieme candles that
burn with a pink flame and give off a delightful smell of flowers.

I felt we all wanted to give a festive tone to the
sudden miasma. We tried our best, but it was such a strange thing. Diana’s
energetic face darkened by the weight of the mystery. Nancy seemed the most touched, it was almost
as if it was trying to possess her. She did not know if she should be terrified
from it, or to relax and think nothing of its intrusive touch. Deborah simply
went back to her embroidery. Still, I think she was attentive, searching for a
sound in the depths of that silence.

Just then the door opened and Meredith came in. She
staggered over to the armchair by the fire and sank into it, staring wild-eyed.

“What is the matter?” I asked with concern.

She sighed deeply, then murmured a few indistinct
words.

“Speak up!” Diana demanded.

Meredith shook her head forcefully and made an effort
to speak clearly. I handed her my glass of brandy and she emptied it in one
gulp. Under other circumstances we would have been offended by this vulgarity,
but something had disturbed her, and the atmosphere had been of such an
ominously depressing nature that all of us felt like following her example.

“Miss,” Meredith said looking at me,
“there’s…” Her eyes, which had softened for a moment, returned to
their wild expression. “I don’t know…”

Diana uttered an impatient exclamation.

“Miss, there’s…” Meredith replied as she
reflected deeply. “I don’t know how to say it… There’s something in my
room.”

“Oh!” exclaimed all of us and then our
questions began to fly.

I don’t remember all that was asked, but I do know we
all wanted Meredith to explain herself.

“There is something in my room. I… I thought
it was an animal but it is too big. I thought it might be an intruder but
something is all wrong. It simply is just something…” Meredith stammered
on. “A perverse presence… I was in danger. I… I felt violated just
laying there in my bed. It… Oh how can I say this in polite company? I felt
naked, I felt as if it were touching me even though it was not. It was carnal,
savage. I do not wish to describe it any further!”

“You’ve had a nightmare,” said Deborah

“No, that’s not it,” retorted Meredith.
“I hadn’t been dreaming. I just woke up, that’s all. How can I make you
understand?” she said as she shook her head. “I would rather sit in
the rain all night that go back to that room,” she then added.

Deborah sighed; she had enough of the eerie evening
and wished to put it to rest. Without reply, she made her way toward the stair,
though not before pausing at her father’s old rapier hanging ornamentally
amongst some of his memorabilia. She shrugged and decided instead on the
candlestick with its scented candles of pink flame. She left a perfumed wake as
she traversed towards Meredith’s room.

“Oh, don’t let her go there alone!” cried
Meredith.

The rest of us slowly went to the staircase. The
flickering glow of Deborah’s candles was already vanishing as we watched out
for her. We stood in semidarkness at the foot of the stairs, as we heard her
open a door. There was a minute of oppressive silence. I felt Meredith’s hand
tighten around my waist.

“Don’t leave her alone!” she moaned.

Suddenly a load and bolstering laugh thundered down to
us. It was produced exactly by something as Meredith had tried to describe. It
was masculine but was not the sound produced by either man or beast; perhaps a
devil.

Almost at the same time, Diana raised her hand and
cried out, “There!… There!… Something moves there!”

None of us saw what she did, we all became too
focused on the cacophony that immediately followed. The sounds were loud and
frightening, more so because there was no buildup. It sounded as if a large
wild animal had been released into the house. It was in the middle of mauling
its prey. There was no suspense or buildup to this climax. Deborah never had
time to express fear or call for help, she just screamed.

Not the scream of surprise or alarm, nor did she cry
out in warning or desperation. Deborah moaned as though in terrible pain, as if
something had pierced her body, and then as if something was trying to gag her.
A rapid series of crashing and thumping noises filled our ears. It sounded as
if Deborah was being tossed roughly about.

All but Meredith rushed up the stairs, who remained
behind squallering almost as loudly as the commotion above. The door that
Deborah had entered was shut fast. I could not turn the knob or force the door
to open even with the help of the others putting their weight against the door.

We tried to make sense of the sounds coming from the
other side. We tried to figure out who or what was with Deborah. Sometime
between our standing at stair landing and rushing up the attic door, the sounds
had become most devious and uncouth. It left us all confused as we were certain
great danger lurked behind this door. Yet, as we fought to save Deborah from
her assault, it sounded as if she were enjoying her terrible mauling.

“Heaven’s, it’s raping her!” Meredith cried
from down the stairs. The look of utmost anguish and horror filled her face.

Even now as I write this, I do not know if I should
be more horrified at the prospect that an intruder was forcing himself upon a
dear friend, or that the shameless sounds of eroticism hinted Deborah had been
transformed into a deviously improper sexual fiend. I hoped that it was my poor
interpretation during those chaotic moments. I swear that Deborah was hollering
more like a trollop and a tramp. The bed creaked and thumped in unison to her
moans. I could only imagine such noises coming from the ill-reputed Shrewsbury Grope Lane
during the time when brothels and prostitution were commonplace.

I was not at that time capable of verifying what I
heard. None of us was prepared for the mystery that came with that strange
evening. The door opened, whatever had been holding it, let go. The three of us
stumbled in, uncertain and unready for whatever we were to face. There was
nothing.

Meredith’s room was empty. There was no evidence that
Deborah had ever entered, save for the candlestick she carried standing on the
floor, its candles still burning peacefully with their pink flames.

We searched everywhere for her for the rest of that
night; every room and corridor. We even dared to step out on to the misty
street and go out onto the roof. Deborah had disappeared without a trace.

We found no help from the authorities. The police
station was crowded by a similarly distressed mob who all was reporting their
own missing persons. The station was in a frenzy of shouting and crying. Clerks
were busy with others who constantly bombarded them with questions, or more in
particular, angrily demanded answers and results. Seventy people had vanished
that night, some from their homes, others while making errands on the street.

The world of ordinary conjectures was closed to us;
we were left only with the supernatural.

The next week was full of days of fear and
uncertainty. All sorts of wild stories were being repeated throughout the
streets. Some talked of secret organizations; others spoke of a religious cult
that worshiped old gods. The police were accused of negligence, worse; city
officials were dismissed. All of this was useless.

Their reports were all the same as ours. A perverse
and beastly presence lurked in the darkness. Men and women were disappearing
from their rooms. Not all the stories told were without evidence. Mind you, the
evidence was fleeting, and only those who had witnessed similar events would
believe what was brought forth.

Unlike Deborah, some claimed to find the poor victims
in the aftermath of their capture. Friends and loved ones found naked and
unconscious. Witnesses verified what Meredith had cried during that cacophony
of perverse noise. Their naked bodies soiled and dirtied by someone, or
something.

I do not wish to describe what markings were found on
these poor souls ravaged bodies, but I must, it is prudent for what is to come.

Neighbors spoke of daughters and sons whose bodies
bore teeth and claw marks. These wounds were not life threatening, but the
implications of why they were on the bodies were far worse. Sexual deviance and
demons of lust were about. Everyone wanted to cry foul and call the attacks
rape. I feared for the remaining Mitford sisters and myself.

The evidence suggested something more. The marks upon
the victims’ bodies suggested not a forced union, but a playful and passionate
one where the victims willfully engaged their attacker. What compelled them to
do so is one thing, but the absolute perversity in which they soiled their body
was another. Their loins were discovered smothered in the venomous juices of
their attackers. It was described more as them being bred like stock animals.
Forced to take the seed of their assailants over and over again until there was
no more room inside them, still their attackers did not stop. If they could not
ejaculate inside them any further, they pulled out and covered them in it
instead.

One would think there was more than one assailant.
The male victims seemed to prove otherwise. Their own spunk covered them nearly
head to toe. How one young man could produce so much, I did not know. Something
had milked their knobs until they became swollen and misshapen.

I will stop, I have said too much. Such terrible
things happened. It is only important to know that these few victims did not
stay found, nor did they ever gain consciousness to tell their stories. The
shadowed street had marked them and took them. Some claimed the bodies disappeared
as quickly as it took to turn one’s head over one’s shoulder. Only the touch of
a slight but terrible breeze marked the presence of something sinister coming
back to retrieve its prize.    

I do not want to dwell on what happened in the town;
it will be easy enough to find people to tell about it. I will limit myself to
the framework of our house and our life.

The days passed and spring came, it was a colder and
windier spring than what I could remember. We remained indoors, huddled by the
fire. It was the safest place as anywhere else. Diana, Nancy, Meredith, myself
and the cook Gordon Roux stayed in close proximity to one another. We had
sealed up the upstairs room. Diana had torn out pages of the bible and pinned
them to every wall, door and curtain. She hoped this would ward off whatever
was snatching people out of the streets and from their homes. The rest of us
did not protest since we had spent several days in peace. It wasn’t a bad idea.

Unfortunately, these days of peace would end. Diana’s
wards were of no use in those dark days the clouds hung low. I was walking into
the living room to put a lamp on the landing - since the night of Deborah’s
disappearance we had placed lights all over the house. Our halls remained
lighted until dawn.

I heard voices murmuring from upstairs. Curiosity
caused me to take my lamp up the stairs to the barred door. I found Meredith
and Gordon waiting for me as they pressed their ears closely to listen to
whatever was going on inside.

I stood beside them and listened for myself.
Something was moving inside the attic room. It’s footsteps were light but
sharp. Each step sounded like a hard tap against the floor. There was something
feminine and familiar about it. It then made a giggling noise and I thought I
recognized it as Deborah’s voice.

There was no time to consider what any of us had
heard. A scream of terror came to us from downstairs from the study. I
immediately rushed courageously down the stairs, meeting with Diana at the
bottom who was also rushing to the scene with her father’s rapier in hand.

We hadn’t taken three steps when there was another
cry of distress, this time from where I just been.

“Help! Help!”

It was Meredith’s voice, she cried out to us again
feebly.

Diana took my lamp and we went back to the attic
door. Halfway up and it was already apparent that Meredith was alone. Gordon
was missing. We are not sure how he managed to disappear through the barred
attic door. Meredith was a frightful mess, and it wasn’t until later we were
able to get her to speak of it. However, we had the pressing issue of Nancy who
was still crying and moaning from the downstairs study.

“There is nothing we can do here,” Diana
stated as she rushed with her father’s rapier in hand.

It was true; there was no time to pry the nails from
the attic door to search for Gordon. I quickly gathered up Meredith so that we
could follow Diana. She was already searching the study by the time Meredith
and I arrived. The study was brightly lighted as a carnival; I had seen to
that. The burning glow of so many candles danced merrily from the small crystal
chandelier.

At first we did not find Nancy, we all feared it was too late. I
noticed something in the curtains. It was Nancy,
but it only verified our fears. I don’t know how it happened so fast. As I
reflect on it, I now do recall that the moans and cries from the study began to
sound perversely like those of a woman in the throes of lovemaking. It would
coincide with what we found as we tried to make sense of it all.

We found her naked and passed out due to exhaustion.
All our efforts to wake her were in vain. At that time, we all assured
ourselves that whatever had done this had deflowered her without consent, and
dismissed her rosy cheeks and satisfied expression on her sleeping face as an
unrelated product.

The sexual carnage wrought upon Nancy’s body was far worse than what had been
described to us by the neighbors who had witnessed similar atrocity. I could
not touch her sleeping body anywhere without slick sticky spunk clinging to my
fingers. It was if a dozen men had stood around her in a circle wanking off, each
one producing the load of a horse. Before that, they all must have taken turns
on her. They refused to pull out, never could I think that a woman’s twat could
be full of so much of a man’s cream.

Again, I don’t know how something like this happened
so quickly. It upset Meredith so much that I ended up trying to comfort her in
the hall while still trying to keep us both close enough to Diana to make sure
this didn’t happen again. It still did not stop Nancy from disappearing.

“She… She is gone! She was right here and now
she is gone!” Diana cried out to us in sudden anger and frustration.

Whatever had claimed her came back for her in an
instant.

“I saw it! I saw it again!” she cried again
hot-tempered. “That bloody bastard is the same who took Deborah!”

“Who? What?” I cried in return as I rushed
back to help search with her.

“Be careful! There is danger here!”

I pressed up close to Diana, feeling protected by her
presence as she branded the rapier before her. Suddenly something blinked past
us and we saw with alarm that darkness invaded two corners of the room; the
lights had been extinguished there.  

“Hurry, protect the lights!” panted Diana,
“Oh, there!… There he is!”

Then the lights burst and the candles blew out. I
grabbed Diana tightly as my only source of comfort and warmth. She stood
motionless, but she looked around the room with rage and determination I had
never seen in her before.

Suddenly her rapier lunged into empty space.

“Protect the light!” she cried again.
“I see him! I’ve got him!… Ah!….”

I saw the rapier make strange violent movements in
her hand, as though she had stuck it into something and could not free it.

Meredith, in a burst of sudden bravery, came to
Diana’s aid wielding a candlestick. She clubbed violently at the air where the
rapier was stuck until Diana could free it. Something brushed against the
floor, the study door opened by itself and then a heartrending clamor arose in
the hall.

One might wonder why we stubbornly went on living in
that haunted house. At least a hundred other houses were in the same situation.
People had stopped counting the number of disappearances, and I, along with
many, became indifferent to them. There was also a strangeness, as though we
had been cut off from the rest of the world. Many felt trapped, as though some
invisible chain held them here. Over time, I felt more inclined that we were
meant to be here.

Nor did I feel that the presence of those taken was
entirely gone. I felt Nancy, Deborah and Gordon’s presence watching us, waiting
for us to join them. I felt as though they knew they would be taken; a secret
they kept from us. More and more I think the mystery responsible was not as
malevolent as we first believed.

It is an alien force that is neither accustomed nor
cares for our polite society and its accepted ways. It is a wild and hungrily
passionate force, more ancient than mankind. He is a trickster who merely
wishes to play with us. Through his games I think he is trying to show us
something. I must admit, I am still scared.

Diana wants to take vengeance. She carries her
father’s rapier wherever she goes. It gives her confidence and so much
determination that she patrols the household diligently. The loss of her
sisters has made her unfortunately grim, however. All she can do towards me and
Meredith is bark orders to lock the doors and keep the lights burning all
night. The three of us all sleep in the living room now.

I questioned Meredith about her armed intervention in
the study, as well as what happened to Gordon Roux. She has only been able to
give me a confused answer.

“I don’t know,” she would reply. “It
seemed to me that I saw something… A face… A presence… I don’t know how
to say what it was.”

This was all I could get out of her.

Needless to say, I have known her for many years.
Since the incident in the study, she is not the same woman. She is more aloof
and distant, as if she is stuck in a daydream. Like Diana, she wonders off
frequently but not for the defense of the home.

One evening toward the middle of April I was ordered
by Diana to fetch Meredith before the shadows fully engulfed our home. Meredith
had been lingering near the kitchen, something she had been doing a lot lately.

I found her shockingly naked, but as of yet not a victim
to the sinister forces. She was equally surprised to see me and I was neither
expected nor welcome. I rather assumed the sinister force did not expect me
either, which gave me this rare, if rather small, opportunity to understand
these events. Unfortunately, I was left rightly with only more questions.

Meredith tried to cover up her shame but she rather
didn’t have much on hand to do so. I don’t know where her clothes had been
left.

During our awkward exchange of glances and lack of
proper words, she finally managed to say very bluntly, “This is not for
your eyes…. Your time will come and before it does, he will let you know
beforehand.”

“Who… Who will let me know what? Who is he,
and who is with you here now?” I asked dumbfounded.

She blushed very brightly. The glow of her cheeks
almost outdoing the various lamps and candles placed all about.

“Gordon is with me now, he has come back for
me,” she said calmly excited.

Meredith’s composure and expression filled the room
with a warmth I had almost forgotten. We all knew she and Gordon had grown
close, especially during these dark days. I assumed that is why she preferred to
be alone after he disappeared, to mourn. Now, before me, Meredith looked ten
years younger. Her improper nudity in the kitchen didn’t bother me. I found myself
stumbling upon the embodiment of one of those lovely portraits that one
shouldn’t talk about in polite conversation. Men love to gawk at them in
galleries often with the excuse of calling it fine art, but it is just an
excuse for them to look at naked ladies.

Still, it is worth complimenting the artists for
their fine detail and their ability to make their subjects look radiant under
soft light and a carefully chosen color palette. Every curve and shape of the
female form expressed the artist’s love for his craft. The subject gleefully
showing off, knowing she was more than a lewd object of lust. She knew she was
beautiful, and that the bountiful and sensual curves of her body were a work of
art long before it was immortalized on canvas.

Meredith was shy, and yet, she was comfortable with
my presence. I was oddly feeling the same towards her; I admired her.

I did not see Gordon or any other person in the
kitchen, or any evidence of anyone other than Meredith ever being there. I did
not think her mad. At that time I did not know what to think, but I felt
obliged to give her privacy knowing full well that she was next to disappear.

We didn’t exchange words, only glances. We spoke
volumes together in our silence. I heard Diana calling for me, I knew I shouldn’t
keep her waiting. It was only going to be the two of us now.

I can sense him; a suffering, wounded presence
seeking help. I don’t think Diana is aware of him. Yet, she was hell-bent in
barricading the doors and windows in a way that seemed more designed to prevent
an escape rather than an intrusion. My life had become a fearful solitude, as I
now feared Diana more than any lurking specter.

Sometimes I come upon her unexpectedly in the halls,
her father’s rapier always present in her hand. During one such encounter, she
told me rather impolitely that I had better go back to the living room. When I
obeyed her too slowly, she shouted at me.

She is no longer the kind and sincere sister who let
me into her home. She is now filled with anger and determination. Sometimes she
glares at me with a flame of hatred in her eyes. For I had a secret….

Was it curiosity, perversity, or pity that made me
act as I did? I don’t know. I do know that a phantom lay on my mind ever since
I had witnessed Meredith passing into the shadows. I no longer feared whatever
was snatching us up in the dark. I think at the time of their passing, neither
did any of others. Deborah, Meredith, and Nancy must have all had their
secrets. Except for Meredith, I don’t think they knew what their secrets would
lead to. Now that I have discovered him, I know that I will share their fate.

I was in the washroom when I first heard him; a
muffled bleating moan. I thought of my vanished friends and looked around me
expecting the worse. A door in the corner concealed with stacks of books and
other nonsense led into a storeroom.

“Booh…. Booh….”

It was coming from inside the storeroom. I carefully
opened the door and with lantern in hand, I looked inside. Everything seemed
normal. If I had any sense, I would have escaped back to the safety of our
well-lit living room. However, I no longer had any fear. I stepped inside to
investigate more thoroughly.

I cried out as something seized my dress. I
immediately heard his moaning, bleating cry close to me. I raised my lantern to
see him for the very first time.

A man? A beast? The devil? I’m not rightly sure. He
very well could be the devil, for where his head should be was that of a great
black ram. It was no mask. The curly fleece that covered his neck reached down
across his chest and belly to give him such an unruly bush around his massive
cock.

What a cock it was, a stallion could do no better. I
would have been highly offended by such an uncouth display if it wasn’t for the
fact that I couldn’t decide if this was a man at all. After all, neither a
stallion nor a stag wears trousers regardless if domesticated or wild. Though
it is improper for a proper woman to stare or take notice of such things, their
display of masculinity does not offend. They are mere beasts, incapable of any
kind of etiquette or proper behavior, even if well trained.

Besides, the occasional peek at what nature can
provide did nobody any harm as long as a lady kept her thoughts in no other
company than her own. Every woman has dreamt of being in the romantic throes
with a big, strong, handsome man, and not just big and strong in the parts of
him that he can show off in public.

Below his head, he was a man; a rugged, burly and
unkept wild man, but a man to be sure. Little features such as cloven hoofs
were little distraction from his handsome masculinity. I am ashamed of myself
in saying at how improperly I admired him.

I stood so aghast of him that it took me a long time
to notice his wound. He was the one Diana had plunged her rapier into. His hand
pressed against dried blood and matted hair on the right side of his belly.

I… I felt sorry for the poor beast. His masculine
composure had taken up a sad state. I quickly fetched a pitcher of water from
the washroom. After wetting a rag I did my best to clean his wound. I did not
know how deeply he had been pierced, I am no doctor. The creature seemed
content to let me examine him, nor fussed very little over me touching him.

The proximity of his wound to his manliness was quite
the distraction. It made me remember the state we found Nancy. The question of him being the entity
in the room with her flustered me. I was only inches away from a monstrously
beastly knob that could have bred her silly. Uncouth, unwed, debaucherous sin
and I was now aiding the very beast responsible. Truly, the lonesome despair of
our situation had made me go mad.

He began to caress my hair softly and bleated
pitifully while I tried carefully not to aggravate his wound further. I did not
stop his gentle hand from touching me. I’m ashamed to say that I was even
letting this beast curiously explore me. I don’t know how much further I would
have allowed it to go if it wasn’t for the footsteps coming nearer.  

Without a sound I quickly retreated out of the
storeroom door and did my best to conceal it with clutter before Diana arrived.

“Did you hear something just now?” she
asked.

“Yes. I was startled and I nearly fell, but it
was nothing.” I replied.

I was an accomplice to the phantom beast.

I brought an assortment of goods from the pantry but
I could not find him. I placed milk and apples in the storeroom. The next
evening I was relieved to find them consumed. Then a kind breeze surrounded me
and there he was again.

He was weak and injured. I tended to him, fed him,
cleaned and sutured his wound. Thankfully his condition did not worsen and I
was able to find him a more suitable hiding place.

Diana started to look at me suspiciously and began
prowling around the washroom. I don’t know why I fret so much, he was completely
capable of vanishing when the need arrived. Nevertheless, Diana was determined
and her steel had already pierced him once.

I knew that my well-mannered demeanor was waning. The
constrictive and hostile environment I was forced to endure had only grown more
stuffy since Diana came to rule the household. Some days I was a prisoner,
other days I was the enemy. I felt no longer obligated to keep myself proper.
The more I let loose my hair or failed to fully get dressed, the more I felt
closer to him.

I grew accustomed to his proud display of nakedness.
I sometimes feel like joining him in his natural state, but then I see the
glint of a rapier coming down the hall and I know I can’t drop my guard just
yet.

I wish he could speak, he could then tell me what has
happened to the others. His voice only comes from gestures and the gentle touch
of his hands. He thanks me regularly with them whenever I check the progress of
his wound or bring him fresh food to eat.

As he got better, I could feel him following me. He
was a ghost trailing behind me like a breath.

Then the flash of Diana’s rapier came down a spiral
staircase at the end of the hall. She had also become quite sneaky. If it
wasn’t for my invisible friend beside me becoming afraid; shaking and bleating
in a hushed trembling fear, I would have never known her presence would soon be
upon us.

We quickly hid in an adjourning room. Diana’s
footsteps faded away in the distance. I made a reassuring gesture to tell him
the way was safe. As I turned my head, his ghostly lips touched mine and we
remained there for the moment in passionate embrace.

May
came.

Our miniature garden outside has began to bloom.
Under a clear blue sky the town has become silent. Much has changed since those
first uncertain dark days. This is not the same place, nor is it populated by
the same people.

Deborah, Meredith, Gordon and Nancy are all here.
This whole time they have been here, I have just been too blind to see them
properly. The conservative ways of polite society can be rather blinding.

It is not to say they haven’t changed. They have
changed so much that it is no wonder I could not see them before. I suppose
there is a great deal many things we don’t see because of societies formulation
of how things should be.

The street outside is a forest. The buildings are
still there, only now they are just covered in green mosses, vines and other
vibrantly living things.

Diana isn’t able to see it, nor have I pressed the
issue with her. She still only sees the dirty and gloomy street from before.
She still adamantly guards it with her father’s rapier still in hand. I have
become fervently more afraid of her than I do vanishing from her world and
becoming something new.

By mid May I had decided to join them. I don’t know
why it took so long for me to decide, perhaps I was just waiting for his wounds
to fully heal. The idea of me dancing on cloven hooves instead of feet, wearing
a golden fleece over my body and a pair of nubby horns crowning my head was
hard to properly…. Well it is not exactly normal.

I wonder who the voiceless beast whom I have
protected used to be; if he was anyone at all. The others do not share his
level of transformation. Deborah, Nancy and even Gordon retain a far greater
resemblance to their former human selves. I have even held secret conversations
with all of them, but even they can’t tell me who our intruder is.

I have been
informed he is a great lover. Nancy
confided in me all the dirty details of their unwed union. I must say it is
information not proper for polite conversation. I must say that what she
confirmed may not even be appropriate for a married couple in the privacy of
the bedroom, or for the beasts in the wild for that matter. I should have known
by the state we had found her in the study, but it was far more illuminating to
hear her account from her own lips.

And you know what? It excites me. I am ready for my
turn. There is no more polite company in the streets of this city. Most have
vanished now, or rather, stepped over into this invisible place. I should not
have to worry about what is proper or improper anymore.

I haven’t a name for my wounded lover yet. I think I
shall call him Pan, it is most fitting. He is a wild and fertile god-like stag.
I have watched him play with Nancy and Deborah. They, in turn, enjoy letting me
watch.

From here on dear reader, I have nothing polite or
proper to say. I am going to disappear. This letter has only ever been a
testament of events that have led to my departure.

I snuck into the attic room where Deborah had first
disappeared. It was the only place I could think of where Diana wouldn’t go
looking for me. Nancy, Deborah and Pan were already waiting.

I was responsible for the planning of the evening,
but Nancy and Deborah saw to the removal of my clothes. We three were going to
share Pan together, and Nancy and Deborah taught me how.

They are such adorable fauns, and I love watching
them prance around. They dance wild and recklessly and I join in. The house is
in ruin, but only I can see it. From the roofless attic, I can see the sun, and
we picked vibrant flowers growing on mossy green patches growing randomly
throughout my ruined home. Whatever gloom plagued us in our former life is
gone.

I had watched them play with each other before. Two
sisters playing incestuously with each other is the most debaucherous sort of
fun. They taught me that girls have an advantage in exploring the pleasure of
another woman’s body, being sisters even more rightly so.

Like their master Pan, they bleat and make such odd
noises as they childishly grab one another. They take turns biting and sucking
the others teat like newborn babes. They grab flowers and reeds and dress each
other in makeshift crowns, making them princesses of the forested street. They
try to get me to do the same, but I am still too shy.

It is especially true for when they gobble at the
other’s fanny. Such unclean oral hygiene, and I dare afraid of how it tastes. Still,
the way Deborah can make Nancy
squeal and squirm about with such delight has made me eager to have a go with
it.

First thing is first. I have been eager to try my
delicious Pan. His masculine monstrosity has been a distraction for me ever
since I first laid my eyes on it. I made a secret vow that I would get to know
it intimately. As soon as I told the sisters about this, they immediately set
forth to begin preparing him for me.

I did not mind at all that they got the first nibble.
He had far more than enough meat for the three of us to share. Besides, I
needed an expert to show me just how to swallow such a massive thing. I was
rather shocked to see that Nancy
could devour the whole thing, right up to his bullocks.

I got very hot and bothered. I felt like some sort of
animal coming into heat. If I had been wearing any clothes I would have ruined
them. Deborah took advantage of my improper state and cleaned up my mess. All
she succeeded in doing was making it worse. How could I focus my attention on learning
how to polish Pan’s knob with Deborah licking me down there? The more she
licked the more I squirted too, not at all helping me with my mess.

All I could do was grab her by her nubby horns. I
didn’t get to see the climax of my lover spritzing a stream of pearly white all
across Nancy’s
face. I was too busy rolling my eyes to the back of my head. Deborah’s nibbling
at my naughty bits turned my world upside down.

She left me panting on the floor and went back to
help her sister gobble up bits. Never did I dream that after all this time and
with all the events that have occurred that I would be fantasizing about such a
fantastic beast. The image of his throbbing member burned into my mind. Now it
was rock hard and pointing to the heavens. The veins pulsated and glistened
under the warm spit of two wild sisters. It looked absolutely scrumptious.

Deborah and Nancy seemed to read my thoughts and they
opened up a path for me to join them. I squeezed between them as they had
offered up his scrumptious cock for my lips. They took to sucking on his big bullocks;
Nancy took the
left, Deborah took the right.

I did so without hesitation. I thought I would be
more hesitant, more intimidated with his massive stallion cock throbbing so
close to my tender lips. It always had before when I had to get so near to tend
to his wound.

His knob was rank with the stench of masculine odor
and sex. Spunk was already dribbling down the shaft in small beads, it reminded
me just how messy we had found Nancy,
and how soon there will be more than a dribble running down my chin.

The taste was creamy, pungent and strong. A tangy
taste of cranberries is what I detected; I don’t know why he tasted of
cranberries, so tart at sweet and the same time. There is still so much I have
to learn about him and this place.

Nancy and Deborah leave me to enjoy him all to
myself, though their antics do not help. They playfully poke and grope each
other like children, and with me in the middle. They distracted me from my
difficult task. Pan has so much to try to swallow, and my jaw became sore from
trying to open it so wide.

I wanted to feel him inside of me more than I wanted
to taste him. Since this was my inauguration - my time to disappear, I would
have him all to myself in that regards.

I wanted him to take me like an animal. I was ready to
join the others and let the perverse beast inside me roam. Nancy and Deborah
were insistent we do it another way. Their wild side was more like the antics
of misbehaving children. They wanted to frolic and play.

I wasn’t sure about Nancy squatting on my face, but if Deborah
was so kind as to pleasure my puss, then I must do the same. Unfortunately, it
meant I couldn’t enjoy watching Pan’s big girth penetrating me for the first
time. Alas, I really did want to see what I was feeling. I don’t really know
how Nancy
expected me to do such a nasty thing to her while Pan tried to put a whole
butcher’s market worth meats up my twat.

Deborah seemed to not be able to stay away from
munching on my carpet even when it was stuffed full. Combined, they smothered
me. It was quite the experience for someone like myself who had once considered
such naughty perversions disgusting and foul. It was un-orderly, uncivil and
definitely improper. Polite society was never going to have me back. I guess
that was the reason for the nubby horns and cloven hooves.

If you can’t join them, then go off on your own I
suppose, the grass is always greener on the other side. I do say it felt
wonderful, absolutely magnificent, and the wrongness of it made it feel that
much better.

I guess that is why I had to disappear from the
world. Better to live in this bountiful world of new experiences and vibrant colors
rather than that dull, rigid place full of shadows; always fearing.

I did not enjoy Nancy’s
wooly twat as much as I had Pan’s throbbing cock. I would much rather have
another one of him to taste. The idea of three of him pounding me every which
way gets me wet just thinking about it as I write this now.

The sisters’ company was not unappreciated and I had
more fun than I could remember since coming to live with them. I did my best to
play my part in our new game. I won’t be able to take on the role as the
inexperienced newcomer going through first rites again. I will have to find a
way to let Diana experience that.

There is just something so wonderful about embracing
the unknown and finding a pleasant, if not dreadfully naughty surprise. Feeling
it penetrate me and fill me up with such warm, pulsating warmth, feeling the
pleasure rise with ever-growing intensity when the starting point was of uneasy
pressure and slight discomfort. It gets to such a point that I don’t mind that
a torrent of filthy juices are both filling me up and being rained down upon my
naked body.

I understand now why Nancy was so filthy after we found her. Why
would I just want to do this once? I can experience this again and again until
I am too exhausted to play anymore.

Sometimes Deborah or Nancy steal some of his cream
for themselves. Like kids sucking on a teat they pull him out of me and a take
a mouthful for themselves.

We would have done it all night, switching positions
as needed. I was already taking Pan for my fourth go. The girls made sure I did
most of the breeding. I was even close to having the most intense of all my
climaxes. Mind you, I had already gone through quite a few.

Perhaps, I had been moaning too loudly. To our shock
and horror, Diana busted through the attic door. She had the most wretched scowl
upon her face. The silver glean of her father’s rapier still in her hand.

“Traitoress!” she screamed at me.

__It was here
the English manuscript ended. I simply thought that the rest of the pages were
still hiding somewhere within my aunt’s walls. If they are, I never found them.

Fortunately,
as I have said, the American manuscript held a strange connection to the events
told in the English one. I had to wonder who could imagine such an odd erotic
tale. These letters both seemed to speak as though these events actually
happened. It was a preposterous notion. Nevertheless, I am intrigued.

Monstrous Lust: Night Gallery of Monster Sex and...

Monstrous Lust: Night Gallery of Monster Sex and Debauchery

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07L7S86SX

Synopsis:

Nick hesitantly walked up to the front door of the museum. He hated this place. Sure, it had a nice collection of fine art, if erotically charged pieces were your thing. However, it wasn’t the art that was the problem, it was the building itself, its location and the woman who ran it.
Rose was her name, a fiery redheaded beauty to be sure. She had all the flare of a noir dame. Nick couldn’t trust her as far he could spit. Nonetheless, his wife met Rose one night at no other than one of those shady nightclubs. Now his wife won’t come home. She spends all her time at Rose’s private museum. Nick’s doesn’t want to believe his wife is cheating on him, but something is definitely afoul. Never could he realize that Rose is a witch and one that specializes in a special kind of magic; a magic that involves sex and monsters.

A Small Sample:

Down another hallway,
the creatures became even more grotesque. Nick was feeling uneasy. Something
wasn’t right. These paintings couldn’t possibly be the authentic works of
classical painters. He didn’t recognize any of the names, nor did he want to. At
least the creatures of Greek myth had the semblance of men and women. However,
the one painting of the centaur mounting a wild naiad underneath his equine
form was cheating a bestial taboo. Nor did it help that the painting was
un-biased about showing that centaurs would have horse’s cocks underneath their
horse-like bodies.

This new hall of lewd
pornography was almost taking away all the humanity of sex. The beasts and monsters
were only human in shape. Anthropomorphized characters walked and stood like
people, but they were not human. The wolves, cats, horses and other things were
almost no better than animals just walking on their hind legs.

They did show human
expressions, however, in their beastly faces. Eyes and mouths curled in such
ways to express happiness, joy and laughter. They, indeed, were having a good
time in their orgy of sex, fruit and wine.

So much wild
pornography was being displayed, and all the paintings looked as if they could
be put together to form one massive mural. A tangled mess of furry bodies, all
the animals of the forest pretended to be people and fucking as they would in
the bedroom. They did so together, unbiased of species or if they were predator
or prey.

A stag mounted a she-wolf;
he did not do so as a beast. He did so as a passionate lover. Yet, he was still
wild and bucked his mate vigorously with her hind legs wrapped around his waist
as he pinned her against a tree.

She possessed beautiful
shapely breasts for something that shouldn’t sport such human-like anatomy. The
stag played with them robustly. The artist did well to portray the actions of
his movements with brush and paint. The stag jostled them about excitedly while
fucking her.

Go read these before you go to bed. They’re naughty,...

Go read these before you go to bed. They’re naughty, scary and sexy, but my 11th collection of stories is out. 

myBook.to/Bundle11

At the eleventh-hour author E.M. Beastly releases another bundle of spooky but tantalizing tales of sexy monster horror. From naughty teddy bears, terrible gremlins, furry beasts, and nasty tentacles, readers will find plenty to pleasure themselves with while hiding under the covers just before the witching hour.

Stories included in the collection:
Bump in the Night
The Brothel
Sex and Toys
Erotic Road
Nasty Virgin Camp
Circe’s Pride

here have a small taste:

With great ease, his tendrils lifted Lilly into the
air. They uncoiled and recoiled as they readjusted how they held her. One
wrapped around the front of her shirt and twisted. With a jerk and a pull, the
shirt popped right off her body; it was apparent that this thing had done this
type of disrobing before. Unfortunately, her favorite nightgown shirt would
never be the same again.

With it off, she could look down and see that
squirming mass writhing around her torso. The serpentine cocks slithered over
her breasts and hid inside her cleavage. The tips sometimes would flick at her
nipples like curious fingers wondering what to do with them.

Her legs were spread open and one of the long,
slithering cocks came to point at her door. It was nothing like the fake dong
she had pulled off. It was everything the opposite of it. Length, girth, color,
and even the fantastic features of it were marvelously pronounced. She squirmed
again in fear in what it was about to do. Questions, terrifying questions, ran
through her head asking why this thing was real, and how it all existed inside
this tiny, stuffed doll.

“Such a squirmy wormy aren’t you? Always are,
the first time.” The phantom voice said.

“I’m not going to hurt you silly. I’m just a
special playmate. I know you don’t believe it, but you’ll soon see.”

The slithering cock pointing between her legs waved
around as it reached out for its destination. The other tendrils spreading her
legs did what they could to spread them wider. The rest tying up her body made
sure to hold her in such a way so that she could see everything teasingly inch
forward to penetrate her. She tried to scream again, but the thick girth in her
mouth made her contain it. She could only watch the alien cock head press its
tip against her pussy lips. It wriggled fiercely as it pushed itself into her,
and though it was trying to make a show of it, Lilly could feel that it took
more effort than that flimsy fake thing he once wore.

It was taking its time; letting her watch with
frightened anticipation as millimeters slowly wriggled their way through her
moist pussy lips until the bulbous tip popped all the way inside. The gill-shaped
frills were next, which were much more pronounced than she originally assessed.
They weren’t actual gills, they were just ridges for the sake of creating pleasure.
Something they did well as each one popped in with a wiggle and then slid down
deeper towards her womb.

“Isn’t this what you really wanted?” asked
the childish voice.

All Lilly could do was moan and whimper while choking
on monster cock. It didn’t matter, these serpentine tendrils were going to fuck
her either way. Inside her pussy, the serpentine cock began going through the
motions of fucking her. Its long shaft spiraled at its base like a hand-crank to
pump her pussy with its fat tip and frills as if it were a piston. The long
fleshy cord twirled and whipped around with mechanical precision. Yet, as it picked
up speed to fuck her faster, the whipping band of flesh slapped the insides of
her thighs, interrupting both its rhythm and alignment. The strange cock was
not just sliding back and forth with the guidance of her vaginal walls, but it
also vibrated and jostled from this whipping and slapping. It made the cock’s
grooves and gills scrape against her insides. Their purpose fulfilled when Lilly’s
muffled cries showed their first signs of ecstasy.

“It’s ok for you to enjoy them,” Patches
said gleefully, “It is what you wanted and more.”

He pulled the cock out of Lilly’s throat. She coughed
and gagged, but even between the heaves of spit and air, she was still moaning.
Lilly wasn’t trying to, in fact, she was trying hard to resist the urges of
lust’s embrace. There was much fear in her.

Monstrous Lust: Circe’s Pride.New story out...

Monstrous Lust: Circe’s Pride.

New story out now: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07K5YMQC7

Synopsis

In the old town of Alpine, there is a story about a beautiful witch who turns men into monsters. Miss Rayne, a wealthy and well to do aristocrat has come to see this for herself. However, Rayne’s pride and arrogance might get the better of her as the witch isn’t willing to share her power, at least not without a price. She catches Rayne and sends her on a special errand. The errand could humble Rayne or it could force her to indulge in her most bestial desires and her most sinful impulses. For the witch has demanded she punish a young farmer and she is going to have to get down and dirty if she is going to please Circe and her court of beasts.

Sample:

“Strip her
down,” Rosemary demanded. “Make her feel welcomed.”

Ms. Rayne
struggled but could do nothing while two of Rose’s servants tore open her
blouse. Her shirt and bra came off like wrapping paper on Christmas day as the
two fought with her and each other to disrobe her.

“You stole
something from us? Rosemary said while a servant handed her a book; a thick
tome with a crude cover made from wood. Rayne had hoped it to be a spell book. After
all, it was nothing like other books she had read, at least with its outward
appearance with its crude binding and strange symbols. Unfortunately, she never
received a chance to open it and see what mysteries it would reveal.

If it were a
spell book, then Rayne would have to change her view on witches. She believed
witches to be hideous old hags who rode broomsticks or tended to bubbling black
cauldrons. Rosemary was a fiery redheaded beauty and considered one of the most
beautiful women of the West. Standing before Rayne, she could see that the
beauty was more than just in her face or emerald eyes. Everything about her was
enchanting, a fairytale in disguise. She definitely was a very rare gem out in
the West where the majority of modest woman were plain and homely.

Rosemary did
not shy away from her own terrible beauty while she stood lewdly displaying it
before Rayne. Even her servants lacked modesty as they ran and danced around
like trollops. The only thing many of them wore, including Rosemary, was lace
top, thigh-high, black stockings. Some wore panties too, but most did not seem
to care that they were exposing their privates in the most un-lady like
fashion.

It didn’t take
them long for them to make Rayne just about as naked as the rest of them. They tore
her blouse away and stole her bra. Her skirt was easy to remove which left her
only in her briefs. Her round breasts bounced gaily naked with the rest of the
troupe that surrounded her, which made her wish that her womanly figure had not
grown out to be so voluptuous. She did not want to fit in with them, and yet
her billowing breasts nearly stole the whole show in this whorehouse. Only
Rose’s two jostling beauties could she not compete with, and they weren’t even
as big or as plush.

Rose
interrupted her peep show. "I see you haven’t opened it. But of course,
then you would have needed Jalin’s key. Didn’t your mother teach it is
disrespectful to read another woman’s diary?”

Nobody in the town of Alpine dared to cross Rosemary’s
path. She ruled the town almost as if she were its queen. It wasn’t because of
her wealth. There were stories about her that the town did much to keep from
spreading to nearby towns. Rayne had heard that Rose had cursed this town,
making it disappear from the thoughts and memories of passing strangers. This
town and its history were rumored legend; a myth that once discovered seemed
ordinary and unimportant to those who frequently visited or always passed
through.