You don’t notice that two figures have advanced alongside your body. Xanti’s spikes throb and stand erect down the length of his spine, a row of fleshy monuments to his own arousal. Evgeny and Zusan, the Elder God, lift you from Xanti’s mouth, only to impale you on the largest and widest of Xanti’s spikes. It is hot—so hot, you can hear the moisture in your body begin to sizzle as your sheath is forced down the unyielding length.
Xanti’s claws grasp you again, almost desperately, you think, and Evgeny and Zusan step away. What scared you moments ago becomes both soothing and stimulating. Your eyes open to see a glimpse of the spine within you, now solid black, throbbing in time to the deep rocking pressure you feel within you. The sight sends you into an orgasm so intense, you’re rendered momentarily blind.
Your screams are echoed by a growing hiss, and you realize that Xanti is coming with you, inside you and against you. The spine shudders, and a hot fluid begins to fill you, sliding down your thighs as his rasp recedes with your scream, echoing in the hall around you.
Xanti carefully lifts you from his spine, and with the assistance of Evgeny and Zusan again, places you on the floor, where you can barely stand. You open your eyes and watch as the spines slowly fold against him, paling as the darkness within them returns to his body. One glistens with the proof of his pleasure, and yours.
Xanti kneels before you and kisses your hand, then rises and steps back.
Do you now:
Fuck the head of the Werewolf clans? Turn to Option 25.
Fuck the leader of the Tanuki? Turn to Option 27.
Fuck the tentacled Elder God? Turn to Option 28.
Fuck the Vampire King? Turn to Option 29.
Have you fucked everybody? Turn to Option 30.
Option 27
You await Nobu’s attention. He is only two or three feet tall, hairy, like a raccoon that stands on two legs. You see his long, bushy tail, striped in gold and brown, curling behind him. He sighs as he straightens and begins to turn around.
They’re huge. Enormous. His scrotum drags along the ground as Nobu turns around slowly. He reaches down, lifts the mammoth sac from the floor, and hefts it over his shoulder. His belly is just as round, though not as large as his testicles, and you cannot help but gape as he waddles his way toward you.
“I do not usually mate with humans,” Nobu says. He lifts his immense scrotum from his shoulder, and drops it to the floor at your feet. As the others stand and gather behind you, he begins to slap the skin of his balls in a gentle rhythm. You feel a presence close behind you.
It is the Vampire King. “We will assist, mon coeur,” he whispers against your neck, making you shiver; from beneath Nobu’s furry round belly, a long, thin erection reveals itself.
You press back into the Vampire King’s hard, cold body, the subtle slapping rhythm of Nobu’s drumming echoed in the clenching of your thighs.
“Oh, yes,” you hear Nobu whisper, and his glittery brown eyes gaze at your breasts. His erection grows longer, a lance of flesh and bone, quivering in its own rhythm.
“It is time,” Nobu whispers. Strong arms lift you from beneath and slowly move your body onto Nobu’s long, thin cock. Before you can react, the Vampire King begins to bounce you on Nobu’s scrotum, and you feel your breasts begin to bounce, the slapping mirroring the way your backside slaps against Nobu’s scrotum, a staccato accompaniment to Nobu’s panting.
“Oh, yes, more,” Nobu whispers. He lowers his head and gasps as he comes, folding his body forward so you’re trapped, impaled on his long cock, his warm and throbbing scrotum behind and beneath you, and the furry solid roundness of his belly against yours. You arch your back in an orgasm that catches you off guard and throws you that much further into oblivion.
“Exquisite,” murmurs Nobu. You raise your head. He smiles and pats your breasts. “You are so soft, yet so strong.” He straightens, helps you off him, and throws his balls over his shoulder, a twinkling grin in his button black eyes.
Do you now:
Fuck the head of the Werewolf clans? Turn to Option 25.
Fuck the chief of the Chupacabras? Turn to Option 26.
Fuck the tentacled Elder God? Turn to Option 28 (below).
Fuck the Vampire King? Turn to Option 29.
Have you fucked everybody? Turn to Option 30.
Option 28
Zusan stands proudly beside you. His body, the human elements anyway, are still, but no stillness ever affects the tentacles that grow from his shoulders, his abdomen, his hips, and his groin. You cannot look away.
“Trust me,” he says in his reverberating voice. “It will be good.”
You cannot speak. How does he…where is his…? For God’s sake, which tentacle is it?
You have your answer when you see his rampant cock growing from a curved piece of flesh on top of his lowest tentacle.
Standing an arm’s length apart from you, the tentacles from Zusan’s shoulders and sides approach you. Tentacles are on your hips, guiding you back against the tapestry hanging on the wall. The rough wool abrades your backside, but then you are lifted by two ropes beneath your arms. Your eyes fly open—no, not ropes. More tentacles hold you upright, against the wall, looping beneath your arms and forming a firm brace in front of your hands.
Suckers attach themselves to your nipples and begin to pull in a seductive rhythm, the sucking and pulling spreading as tentacles attach themselves to the skin of your breasts, your belly, and oh, God, your clit. Sparing no moment for buildup, Zusan has attached a large, round sucker to your clit, and is pulling the pleasure from your body.
You scream as you feel an orgasm that may be larger than you are rising within, blanketed with burning heat. You are on fire, turning into heat itself, panting as the overwhelming pressure and suction, stroking and pulling surround every inch of skin.
“Fill me,” you whisper.
“Everywhere?”
“Oh, yes, please.”
You turn your head and slide your tongue around the end of the tentacle that hovers, quivering, near your face. You hear Zusan whisper, “Yesss,” as you begin to suckle on the tip. His tentacle is dry and warm; you suck harder, drawing more of his firm, undulating tentacle into your willing, hungry mouth.
His arms and tentacles raise you up, and his cock, which has grown to a size that matches the tentacle on which you feast, slowly enters your body. You moan in pleasure.
“There’s more,” he says.
The tentacle beneath his cock slides between the cheeks of your ass, dipping itself in the incredible wetness that rains from your clenching heat. You feel the tentacle quiver, working slowly back and forth to separate your cheeks, and then, with a subtle prod, it pushes at your tight, puckered entrance.
You tense again, and while your clenching makes Zusan gasp at the sudden tightness that grips his cock, the denial of entry makes his eyes narrow.
“Open up,” he says, his tentacle tapping a seductive, slick rhythm against your ass. You feel the tip slide inside you. You gasp. You tense and release, and each time you relax, more of his tentacle slips inside your ass, until you are full of him, so full you can’t move at all. His cock in your pussy, one tentacle in your mouth as you suckle upon it greedily, tentacles around and underneath you, and one powerful thrusting peaked tentacle up your ass. You wrap your legs around his waist and hold on.
It’s heaven, and hell, this tensing and releasing, and more pleasure than you think you can stand; you cannot stop the relentless acceleration toward an orgasm so big it seems impossible. The throbbing on your mouth, the sucking of your tongue, the thrusting cock deep inside you, the sliding, pulsing fucking of your ass, and the low, vibrating tones of his voice combine to make you shatter. You come, waves upon waves of pleasure, so tight and sharp you scream, “Oh, my God.”
“I am,” Zusan agrees, as he orgasms after you. You spasm one final time as he slips out from your mouth, your ass, your clenching, greedy, heated pussy, and he lowers you to the floor to stand
again.
Do you now:
Fuck the head of the Werewolf clans? Turn to Option 25.
Fuck the chief of the Chupacabras? Turn to Option 26.
Fuck the leader of the Tanuki? Turn to Option 27.
Fuck the Vampire King? Turn to Option 29 (below).
Have you fucked everybody? Turn to Option 30.
Option 29
The tension between you and the Vampire King is an almost tangible energy between you, so electrically charged you can almost see it drawing him to you, visually linking your bodies.
“It is long past time,” he says. “I have waited for this opportunity for far too long, ma chère.”
You don’t say a word. You don’t trust yourself to speak. He reaches for you, drawing you firmly against him. The curve of your hips fits perfectly with his, as if you were made to be there.
He parts the fabric of the black robe he wears to reveal that he’s nude underneath. He is magnificent. Sculpted, muscular, and lean, with curves and shadows your tongue longs to explore, he is truly a work of art, and probably older than much of the art in any museum.
The Vampire King lowers you to the floor, covering you with that magnificent body. “No biting,” you say in a low moan.
“Oh, mon coeur, you spoil my fun.”
“No.”
You feel his teeth against your neck; his fingers cup your breasts, slowly kneading them. You can feel the press of his cock against your hip, the only part of him that’s hot.
He slides down your body so fast you do not see him move. Then you feel those same teeth stroking over your clit, pressing at the most sensitive spot on your body. His tongue slides inside you. The pressure builds, and suddenly, you want more. You want him inside you.
He moves again, before you can blink, and thrusts deep into you. Then he sweeps back down to taste you. Back and forth, faster than you can see, he moves. He is a blur above you and a solid mass within you. You arch your back, and he rests above you, holding himself deep within you.
“You must let me.”
“No,” you gasp, unwilling to allow him to penetrate you with his teeth, but so eager for more of his cock.
“Ma petite, you will be the death of me a second time.”
“Good,” you whisper, as the slow, deep movement of his cock brings you closer and closer toward orgasm. You lift your head and look into his eyes. Before he knows what you’re about, you bite him where his neck meets his shoulder.
The reaction is immediate. “You dare?” he growls, even as his cock surges.
“Yes,” you say, drawing back. Then you feel it. The latent part of your cross-species blood, the werewolf that you’ve never changed into while mating—it’s surfacing. Your teeth are growing, canines stretching into long, deadly spears eager to plunge and tear.
“You must stop, or I will retaliate. It…will be beyond my control.”
Your mouth curls into a teasing grin, showing your gleaming fangs.
You bite him again, this time plunging one sharp point into the base of the thick vein in his neck, tasting the flood that emerges. With a hiss, the Vampire King latches his teeth onto your neck, drawing that same spurting flood from your neck that you’re sucking from his.
Suddenly the quest for orgasm becomes a battle of wills. Your mouths refuse to move away, while his cock and your clenching cunt rock closer and closer together, trying to move even closer. You flex your fingers, feeling your nails sharpen into deadly points, but the Vampire King is too fast. He grabs your arms, pinning them above your head. He’s still fastened to your neck, still tilting his hips deeper into the curve of your own.
What began as an explosion of lust hovers at the edge of bliss in a stalemate, two warriors with impossible power head-to-head, unwilling to back down. The Vampire King lets go of your neck. He begins thrusting, deeper, harder, driving you to the edge. Your head falls back away from his neck and you stare up at him.
“Oui.”
“Oui,” you echo. At that moment, you both arch and yell, pouring passion into each other.
With a show of limitless strength, he lifts you both to stand, separating his body from yours. He leans down to lick one stray drop of your blood from your neck, then steps back and bows, a sardonic smile on his handsome, chiseled face.
Do you now:
Fuck the head of the Werewolf clans? Turn to Option 25.
Fuck the chief of the Chupacabras? Turn to Option 26.
Fuck the leader of the Tanuki? Turn to Option 27.
Fuck the tentacled Elder God? Turn to Option 28.
Have you fucked everybody? Turn to Option 30.
Option 30
Pick your way through all your options again. That’s right: there’s no end. All good paranormal series end in nonstop, round-robin nookie. You didn’t know? Now you do. You’ve chosen your own fate: the fate of the never-ending fuckathon, paranormal style. Enjoy! For now you are The Licking Fucking Sucking Dripping Drumming Darkness.
Color by Numbers
Colors are never ordinary in romance novels. Love is a many-splendored thing, and the color palette on a heroine alone could make an interior designer swoon with envy. And now, we Smart Bitches are more than happy to provide you with a chance to have a chance in re-creating the glory yourself. That’s right: a coloring book page. Feel free to get creative, but here are our suggestions for the colors to use:
THE HEROINE
Hair: Pick among Golden Champagne, Burgundy Spice, Sultry Auburn, Coffee-Kissed Chocolate, or Velvety Raven’s Wing
Eyes: Pick among Rain-Drenched Emerald, Rain-Drenched Topaz, Rain-Drenched Sapphire, Rain-Drenched Amethyst, Rain-Drenched Mist, or Rain-Drenched Cocoa
Skin: Honey-Kissed Cream, with hints of Seashell Pink along cheeks
Glove, shoes, and dress: Lucent Lavender
Petticoat: Magnolia Bloom
THE HERO
Hair: Pick among Lion’s Mane, Mahogany, or Coal Black
Skin: Bronze Battle
Eyes: Pick among Granite, Gunmetal, Aquamarine, Brandy, Green, or Brown
Breeches: Doeskin brown
Spats: Ivory
Shoes: Leatherine Black
SCENERY
Sky: Blend together Crepuscular Salmon, Sunset Shimmer, and Ravishing Robin’s Egg
Grass: Very, Very Verdant
Rose petals: Scarlet Surprise
Rose leaves: Hunter Green
Ship sails: Eggshell
Ship proper: Oaken Solidarity
Ocean: Aegean Summer
Write Your Own Romance
WRITE YOUR OWN PARANORMAL ROMANCE
Fill in the following, then read aloud for fun and absurdity, Smart Bitch style.
Sharp thing: ______________________________________
Quiet thing: ______________________________________
Animal: _________________________________________
Body part: _______________________________________
Foreign term of endearment: __________________________
Body part: _______________________________________
Animal: _________________________________________
Supernatural being: _________________________________
Invertebrate animal: ________________________________
Organ: __________________________________________
Noun: __________________________________________
Noun: __________________________________________
Animal: _________________________________________
Verb: ___________________________________________
Country: ________________________________________
Adjective: ________________________________________
Job or avocation: ___________________________________
Character trait: ____________________________________
Noun: __________________________________________
Number: ________________________________________
Number: ______________________________
__________
Spice: ___________________________________________
Noun: __________________________________________
Verb: ___________________________________________
Animal: _________________________________________
Organ: __________________________________________
Noun: __________________________________________
Killian drew her [sharp thing] and crept, silent as drifting [quiet thing], down the hallway. The Chalice was down here; she could feel it. As she reached the ornate iron door at the end and cautiously turned the knob, she wondered what sort of [animal] guarded it in the room beyond. Almost definitely a hellbeast of some sort, or, if she were lucky, merely a three-headed demonspawn, each with three rows of needle-like [body part]. If she weren’t lucky, however…
“[Foreign term of endearment].”
The word floated out from the blackness of the room beyond. Damn. Seemed like tonight wasn’t her lucky night.
She straightened and gently pushed the door open. No use for subterfuge now; Azuriel had beaten her to the Chalice. She walked into the room, trying to keep her body relaxed, [body part] loose yet ready, like a(n) [animal]’s.
He glowed at the edges like the fallen [supernatural being] he was, and his beauty pained her and terrified her at the same time. She knew how deceptive that beauty could be, how it could turn like a(n) [invertebrate animal] and sting her unexpectedly.
“I have missed you, dear [organ],” he said, his voice musical as [noun], soft and soothing as [noun]—and every bit as implacable.
“How nice,” she said, trying to keep her voice light, trying not to let her love show, nor her ultimate intention. She should never have fallen in love with a(n) [animal] like him in the first place, and she should certainly not still [verb] him now, not after what he had done to her in [country]. She approached him, sword held down to her side. “I haven’t missed you at all. Haven’t given you a second thought, in fact.”
Beyond Heaving Bosoms Page 25