"I have vampiric boobies." The Romanian girl said it in such a solemn manner the table couldn't help breaking out in laughter. The girl, she'd said her name was Acarina, tried to hold her serious expression, but she couldn't manage it for long before her face cracked in a wide grin. "I wouldn't mind getting my dick up between them and letting them have a g...
Well you never would have thought, Irvine Linaker thought, staring at the innocuous redbrick building. He paid the taxi driver, waited until the man drove off and then walked up to the corner entrance. This was a nice neighbourhood. Further down the street he saw people, mainly old blood socialites, queuing up outside the Colonial Theatre. Looking the other...
Was this really the place? Nancy McCammon was looking at a small New Age shop on the corner of two narrow streets. 'Crystal Soul' was written on the door in bright pink letters. Whoever owned it had to be a complete flake. Still, Paula had said it was the place to go so Nancy put aside her reservations and walked through the door. A little bell tinkled over...
"Whatcha got?" Frank Kerman asked. "Snuff flick... possibly," Bob Yorke replied. He held up a jiffy envelope that was a bilious beige colour. 'Snuff/Skin Flick' was written on the side in black marker pen. "Fake... almost certainly," Frank said. "I know, I know," Bob said. "You know what the young uns are like. I keep telling them over and over—snuff fil...
Ian Jackson swatted the last goblin-thing with his sword. It hit the ground, disappeared, the victory music played, and then Jackson was back in the stone corridor. The monsters left behind thirty-one pieces of gold. Supposedly. Jackson never saw it. He never did. The gold was always transferred automatically to his inventory. Currently he was carrying 1,9...
All characters in this story are at least 18 year of age. * It was the silence that struck Marius first. In the week he had been there, the dank interior of the prison had always been abuzz with the chatter of the inmates, the taunting of the guards and the singing of Mad Pedro in the cell next to his. The dread seeped in ahead of them, long before they we...
"So would you like a happy ending with your massage?" Annette Brite asked in that sexy posh voice of hers. "Uh, doesn't that involve you... uh... jerking me off?" Clive Little asked. "Yes, Mr. Little," Annette laughed. "It is indeed a euphemism for hand relief." Little was at a loss on how to respond. He was still trying to work out how he'd ended up here...
"We need to pull back!" Paul Heinlein yelled. Damn, was there no end to them? Physically the twitchers weren't that intimidating. They were slightly shorter than the average man and not much faster or stronger. They only possessed a rudimentary intelligence, enough to wield simple blades or clubs. In the days since the town of Carmel had been pulled into h...
Christmas wasn't Christmas until you'd stuffed a Santa face down in a wheelie bin and set his ass on fire. That's what Rick Burton said. Rick couldn't be out with them tonight; he was currently serving a three year stretch for beating up a moaning old bastard. Tim Selick had some sympathy. His own life had felt like a prison for the past six months. Not to...
What a dump, Abraham Russell thought as he glanced around the reception area. It was how he'd expected it, to be honest—naff in a cheap kind of way. They'd made an attempt to make it look sensual and erotic, but overall the effect was more Blackpool than burlesque. Stylish photos of scantily-clad models from the sixties and seventies were placed on the walls...