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Jackson

By: perihelion



I was walking across campus, headed to a nearby pizza restaurant for a late lunch. Suddenly a body pressed into my back and a hand covered my eyes. Startled, I tried to get away but my unknown assailant held me tight, something cold pressed into the middle of my back. I started to struggle and then I heard his voice.

"Come on, Noah," he laughed softly. "Guess who."

His tongue licked my ear.

"Get away from me, Jackson."

He laughed and then walked beside me with an unopened can of Coke.

"Aren't you afraid all of your straight friends will see you carrying on like you're a flaming queer?" I snorted.

He pantomimed looking around us and I had to laugh at him. No students anywhere. Students were still moving into the dorms and classes hadn't started yet. Campus was still almost deserted.

"I don't see anyone, do you?" he grinned. "Anyway they'll think I'm just joking with you and you know it. Nobody's gonna think either one of us is gay."

"Gee, that's a relief," I said sarcastically. "Thanks for giving me the head's up."

"Then again, there's the fact that you're on the swim team," he chortled. "Practically every guy on that team's a card carrying fag except you."

"You're an arrogant asshole, Jackson. Like I said, get the fuck away from me."

Jackson definitely was pulling out all the stops for me because he was dressed sexy as hell, dressed to tempt me as only he knew how in his football jersey, cut off blue jeans, and leather thongs. 

"Come on, Noah," he grinned, "talk to me, move in with me."

"Get fucked!"

"I just might if you play your cards right," he laughed. "You know you want it."

"Go to hell, you son of a bitch. I won't be your cum dump again. I lived with you for a year and that's all I was, your goddamn cum dump, not even your whore, just a cum dump."

"Hey, I wasn't all at fault for that, Noah," he grinned. "I seem to recall that you never turned my dick down, not once. There's also the fact that you had a thing about licking my ass."

"That's right, and that's why I can't do it again."

"Please, pretty please, do it for me?"

I laughed.

"Get that sick puppy dog look off your face before I knock it off. You're a devil out of hell and you know it."

"But I'm your devil, baby, and you love me."

He was right and it killed me. I was hopelessly in love with him and he knew it, used it to his advantage unmercifully. I'd lived with him in the dorm for nine wonderful and torturous months during our junior year and he'd kept me wrapped around his little finger the entire time. 

Maybe the more accurate description would be that he kept me on my knees sucking his cock and rimming his ass anytime he was horny. Then he always left it up to me to deal with my own sexual needs.

All this while he fucked a constant stream of female admirers. I was in a hell of my own choosing, a complete fool in love with a straight man. Still am.

My skin tingled with him walking beside me. I could smell his cologne and I wanted his cock in my mouth. Even so, I refused to give in so easily.

"What's in it for me to move back in with you? And while we're at it, what happened to the roommate you've got? It's too damn early for you to have run off another roommate. Classes don't even start until Monday."

"My new roommate never showed up. Seems he decided to go to another university at the last minute. So now I need a roommate and I want you back."

"And the university is going to let you pick your own roommate?"

"Of course," Jackson laughed. "I'm a star, Noah. I'm the best running back they've ever had on this campus. I can do what I damn well please."

"YOU'RE a shit head, Jackson, is what YOU are. I told you I won't move back in with you. What if I decide to tell everyone that you like to have sex with gay men?"

"You're the only one, baby, only you, and how do you define sex? You sucking my dick, rimming my ass, me letting you? That doesn't mean I'm gay. Tsk, tsk, tsk."

I hit him then, hit him in the chest with my fist, and he just laughed. He leaned in to me and licked my cheek.

"You won't tell anyone, Noah. It might get back to your daddy. And how are you going to explain to the Reverend James Logan of the Bethel Baptist Church that his only son is gay?" he chuckled. "And you wouldn't want to lose that reputation as the world's straightest computer nerd. You've worked so hard to build it."

"I hate you, Jackson."

"No, you don't. You're in love with me."

Jackson took my hand and pulled me into a hedge of huge plumbago bushes. He pushed me against a brick wall and kissed me hard. He wouldn't stop kissing me until I couldn't breathe anymore and I almost collapsed in his arms. Jackson had never kissed me before, not once in all the time I'd sucked him off. He'd never touched me sexually, just let me do everything for him.

"You've been eating cherry candies again," he laughed softly. "I'm going to take your cherry. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

His eyes were dancing with merriment and I looked at him scornfully.

"You'd have to touch my body to fuck my ass. You never have before so why now?"

"Because I want your cherry, I want your virgin ass," he whispered in my ear.

"What makes you think I'm a virgin?" I snorted angrily.

"You are," he grinned. "And that ass of yours belongs to me. YOU belong to me."

"It's a little late to decide I'm your property, Jackson. What makes you so sure I still want you, dick wad? We haven't been together since last spring and I had a busy summer."

I looked defiantly into his eyes, trying to convince him I didn't care anymore. His hand groped my crotch, grasping my erection through my shorts.

"You want me right now, don't you?"

His soft laughter infuriated me. He knew me too well. I tried to pull his hand away but I wasn't strong enough. 

"Stop, please stop. You're going to make me cum in my pants, Jackson, and I don't want to be humiliated in front of everyone."

He put his hand in my shorts and grasped my cock, rubbing the leaking head of it in his palm. I was pouring out pre-cum, near ejaculation. He took his hand out and licked his palm, grinning at me.

"Last chance, Noah," he laughed softly. "If you don't want this all you have to do is say no. You want me, don't you?"

I nodded. He kissed me and squeezed my cock.

"Say it, Noah. Tell me that you want me, that you've got to have me."

"Jackson," I moaned. "I want you, you bastard, I love you."

In an instant he'd pulled my shorts and underwear down to my knees. Before I could recover he'd snatched my tee shirt over my head. I was horrified although it would have taken a thermal imaging camera to find us in those plumbago bushes. 

"God, you're fucking beautiful, Noah," he said hoarsely.

There was burning sexual lust in his eyes, no matter how he tried to disguise it. He forced my hand over his crotch. I unzipped his jean shorts and pulled them down around his hairy thighs. He was going commando and he knew I liked him that way. He kissed me and pushed his crotch into my hand. I began to kneel so I could suck him off and he held me tight.

"Not this time, Noah. This time we do it together."

He began to masturbate me with his big rough hand and buried his face in my neck, sucking my skin and biting it. I jacked his dick with one hand and played with his balls with the other. I was almost in shock at the complete change in him, at his suddenly wanting to sexually satisfy me.

"You love my cock, Noah," he whispered in my ear, gently biting my lobe. "And we both know you love me. You're going to move back in with me because we belong together."

Suddenly he moaned and I knew he was about to cum. I tried to kneel again to suck him off and he forced my back against the wall, jacking me quickly.

"I said no, baby," he moaned.

His muscles tensed and suddenly I felt his hot cum shoot into my crotch, splashing into my pubes and all over my cock. I responded almost instantly, shooting my load on him. He held me tight in his arms until we came down from our sexual high.

Then he was grinning in my face again. He licked my cum off his hand looking like some sort of leering sexual satyr.

"You cock honey tastes good, Noah," he laughed quietly. "NOW you're moving in with me."

His arrogance was fucking appalling.

"What is this, Jackson?" I whispered sadly. "Everything's just a game to you and I can't live a life with you just using me anymore."

I rarely cry but tears of frustration slipped out and rolled down my cheeks. The change in Jackson was instant. His face was a picture of panic.

"Please don't cry, Noah. I can't stand it if you do. You know I'd do anything for you."

He began to kiss my tears off my cheeks and I fought for control. Last year I'd humiliated myself for him, lost almost all of my self-respect, and now I was crying in front of him. I felt watery cum running down my legs and it helped me to regain control. I kissed his hairy chest and held him to me.

"How are you going to get us out of this one, Jackson? We're covered in cum, it's on our shorts, and we're in plumbago bushes about a half mile from the dorm."

"Easy, don't panic, Grasshopper. Pull your shorts up and put your shirt on," he grinned.

We got dressed quickly and then he began to shake his Coke can like a mad man, dancing and causing the bushes to sway. I'd barely begun to grasp what he was doing before he pulled the pop top of the can and it began to spew fizz all over us while he laughed like crazy. We came out of the bushes drenched in Coke. He held my forearm in his hand and pulled me with him as we headed back to the dorm.

"You planned that whole thing, didn't you? Right down to the Coke."

"I prefer to think of it as spontaneous sex. Let's go get cleaned up and move you in right now. I proved you still love me," he grinned.

I sighed. What I'd always wanted from him, at least in small part, had happened this afternoon and I felt like an idiot not jumping at his offer. All that held me back was my hellish summer filled with heartache over him, being in love with it totally unrequited. I knew it was my own fault for falling in love with a straight man.

He saw my sadness and put his arm around me, two guys in soaked clothes holding each other up.

"Come on, Noah," he said gently. "I'm sorry if I've hurt you and all I want is a chance to make it all up to you. Here, let's sit down."

We sat on a bench in the cool shade of a huge oak tree. He sat close to me, our bodies pressed together with his arm on the back of the bench, wrapped around my shoulders.

"What's the matter, Noah? I know I fucked up with you and all I can say is I'm sorry I've been such a total asshole. Will you accept my apology?"

"I don't think just an apology will do it. Jackson, I'm in love with you with all that means but you don't love me. I used to sit in our room anxious to see you come in. Sometimes you didn't come in at all and other times you'd come in with some bimbo. You took my heart and broke it over and over again, Jackson, and I can't take it anymore."

"It won't happen again. I promise. No more girls."

"You're goddamn right it won't," I laughed bitterly. "After the university lost that class action sexual harassment suit this past June we're back in same sex dorms again and any student caught in the dorm of the opposite sex will get expelled instantly. Period. End of discussion. Kind of makes it easy for you to promise me, doesn't it?"

"So you see? I'm all yours," he grinned sheepishly.

"No, you're not, Jackson. There's one big problem, you don't love me and I can't stop loving you. You make my life worth living, you control me. I live just have you smile at me."

"Really?" he whispered, obviously shocked.

"Really. I'll never be anything but just your convenient roommate, your cum dump because I can't resist you. You know, I only came back because of my scholarship and it's my senior year. I came really close to just quitting over you."

"I've been a total asshole and I know it, baby. I know I don't deserve you but I'm begging you to give me a chance. Begging you."

He pulled me to him in his arms, kissing the top of my head.

"Jackson, people might come by and see us. You need to stop. No need to ruin your reputation playing this game."

"Fuck my reputation, Noah. I love you."

"What?" I managed to squeak out.

He sat back and looked me in the eyes.

"I said I love you, Noah. Do you want me to yell it out for everyone to hear?"

"NO!" I hissed. "I don't want you ruining yourself over me."

"I'd do that and a lot more for you, Noah."

We sat quietly for a few minutes, just looking at each other, and I could see in his eyes that it was true. He wasn't lying. Finally I spoke.

"It's all my fault, Jackson. I broke the first rule of the gay man's handbook, never fall in love with a straight man. And what's changed with you? Why have you suddenly decided you love me?"

"It started at the end of last year, the awful way things ended for us. You moved out that last two weeks, moved in with that pansy worm Will, and it was then that I realized how much I missed having you around. I took you for granted all year long and when you left I knew how much I needed you for me to be whole. You were angry and you said you never wanted to have anything to do with me again."

"I meant it."

"I know and I'm so sorry, Noah. Over the summer it got to where you were all I could think of and I admitted to myself what I'd denied for a long time. I love you and I don't want to be without you anymore."

"You're sure it's love you feel, not just heartburn?"

"The first week I got home for the summer I went out with a girl that I've fucked off and on for years and I couldn't even get it up with her. I haven't dated a girl since then because you've been all I can think of. I jack off thinking about you, baby, and I miss your company so bad that I'm fucking miserable without you."

He'd called me baby several times and it felt good.

"Maybe you really do love me, Jackson, but how does this fit with you being straight? Are you saying you're gay now?"

He put his head in his hands, hiding his face.

"No," he said miserably.

"No?"

"Fuck it, maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Probably. Oh my god, I don't know anymore. Yes. No. No, I'm not gay, Noah, but I love you and I want you in my life. No one else, just you."

"Why the sudden change of heart? Why not all those times I was on my knees sucking your cock?"

He looked at me, embarrassed.

"I have a confession to make, baby, and I'm sorry. About last year...uh...I started having these funny feelings about you after Christmas."

"Funny feelings?" I probed.

I wanted to hear it all.

"I started to get turned on by you, by you being naked. It's one reason why I was always wanting you to suck me off. So I could see you naked. So I could look at your ass."

Anger flashed through my eyes and he saw it. The fucking coward.

"I'm sorry," he moaned. "I should have taken you to bed, I wanted to, Noah. I was a goddamn chicken shit. I just knew I couldn't possibly be gay so I couldn't let myself love you."

"What about my naked body turns you on?" I asked, amused.

"All of it," he grinned. "But particularly your ass, Noah. You know, you've got the sexiest ass I've ever seen, sexier than any woman I've ever been with. And your cock is more beautiful than any pussy I've ever seen."

"What?" I laughed.

"Don't laugh," he smiled. "You're just so damn sexy, Noah, every inch of you, and you don't seem to know it. That smooth body of yours, your ass, all of you, and it's all just perfect in every way."

"Really, Jackson? I wish you'd told me before."

"So do I. You look so fantastic in those skimpy little swimsuits the team wears. I've wanted to pull it off with my teeth and eat your ass until you're begging me to fuck you."

"I'll have to be sure to wear my swimsuit in the room more often," I laughed. "So now you're telling me you want me back for my body."

He blushed crimson.

"No! I'm no good at this kind of thing, baby. I want you, all of you. Look, I'm a goddamn fool, Noah, but I know I love you. I guess I've known it on some level since last Christmas. My god, you're so fucking perfect. WE'RE perfect together."

"Really?"

I was still suspicious after being used by him for so long.

"Are you in love with me or have you just gone queer for my body?" I laughed softly.

"Both," he smirked. "I dream about you at night and I jack off all the time fantasizing about fucking your sweet ass."

"Why didn't you contact me this summer? What would you have done if I hadn't come back this fall? Or if I'd died of a broken heart?"

He pulled my hand to his lips and kissed it. He was trying to be cavalier but he couldn't hide his anguish.

"For God's sake, Noah, don't you think I was miserable this summer? I didn't know how to contact you and what if I had? Go to Bum Fuck, Georgia and declare my love in front of the pious Reverend Logan and all those rednecks? I really sweated it out that you'd come back this fall."

"I guess I'm lucky I came back. At least I got to hear from your lips what I've dreamed about for over a year."

"So we're okay, then? You'll move back in with me? I want to fuck you so bad, you just don't know."

"Maybe I'll let you do that," I grinned. "I'll put you on my list of boyfriends."

"I'd BETTER be the only one," he growled. "I'd hate to go to jail for killing some guy over you."

"What do you even know about gay sex, Jackson?"

"I think I can figure it out. How hard can it be? Suck your lover's dick, fuck his ass, kiss him senseless."

We burst out laughing. He was such a cocky prick.

"I hope you're not ready to march in gay parades and wear rainbow flags on your ass. I'm not ready to deal with coming out, I just don't have what it takes to deal with Daddy and losing my whole family right now."

"No," Jackson laughed. "I'd rather keep it just between the two of us right now. Being gay in sports at this university isn't an option. And I'm not ready to deal with my family either. Anyway, I told you I'm not gay."

"Hmmmm. You just keep telling yourself that, Jackson," I smirked. "So if I move back in with you will you sleep with me? Will you make love to me and respect me?"

"What do you think that was all about in the plumbago bushes? I thought I WAS making love to you. At the very least it was foreplay," he grinned. "Don't forget. I ate your cock honey off my hand."

"You did," I laughed.

"And it was good. Better than my own."

He laughed and licked his lips.

"Jackson, I'm so in love with you that it almost sucks the life out of me," I said softly. "I don't think I can take it if this is just another one of your games. Please don't hurt me."

A few stray tears slipped out again. He brushed them away gently with his hand and then traced my lips with his thumb.

"I swear to god I'll never hurt you again. Come on, let's go to our dorm room before we get stuck to this bench with Coca-Cola sugar and cum."

"OUR dorm room?"

"Yes. OUR dorm room."

His eyes were dancing with humor. He stood up and put his hand out to help me up.

"I wish I could hold your hand all the way back to the dorm, baby."

"So do I, Jackson, but you can make it up to me when we get there."

He grinned at me, obviously looking forward to it.

We walked close to each other back to the dorm and I could feel the electricity tingling between us.

"I'll let you get your shower first, baby. If I go in the shower room with you I'll have to fuck you right there, I won't have any control. Come to our dorm room in an hour."

"An hour? You usually shower in about thirty seconds," I teased. "It's a wonder you get the first layer of sweat off."

"It's not that. I want to give you time to tell that shit Will that you're moving in with me and to start packing. That and I need to return my Mom's call."


Jackson



He grinned and I shook my head at him, amused.

"I'm surprised that you moved in with that weasel Will again, Noah. I figured you got your fill of him at the end of last year."

"The university residency office assigned us together. Anyway, he's not so bad..."

"Shut up," he grumped. "He's a slimy piece of shit with only one goal. Get in your pants."

"What makes you think he hasn't already?"

I laughed and walked away, leaving him with a look of thunderous fury on his face.

"HE HASN'T!" he yelled.

I continued to laugh as I left him standing in the hall.

"HE HASN'T!" he screamed. "I'LL KILL HIM!"

His angry voice was a mixture of certainty and fear. He raced after me and grabbed my arm.

"You're lying, Noah," he snarled. "Tell me you're lying."

"You've got to go call your Mommy, remember?"

A group of guys came out of a room and walked toward us. Jackson let go of my arm and I left him standing in the hall, furious.

An hour later I knocked on Jackson's room door. He opened it, totally naked, still damp from his shower, his eyes glaring. His body was irresistible to me. Dark blond hair on his chest and stomach, his legs and forearms, the curls brown in his armpits and his thick forest of pubes. All man, my bear.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me inside. He pushed me up against the door and kissed me passionately, almost angrily. Then he pulled my tee shirt over my head and yanked my pants and underwear down around my ankles. I was as naked as him, both of us with rock hard erections standing full mast out of our pubes.

"Jackson," I gasped as he continued to kiss me.

"Tell me you haven't let that motherfucker Will touch you," he demanded.

I looked at him and half smiled. This was my one weapon against him.

"Tell me, Noah. Please."

He was getting angrier and I just stared at him, the look in my eyes triumphant, pushing him emotionally. For some supremely insane reason I wanted to toy with the man who'd just declared his love for me. The same man who had tormented me unmercifully all through our junior year with his constant stream of women.

"Why should you care who I fuck, you prick? You had your chance for months and you never touched me. I have needs."

"No," he groaned miserably. "No, Noah, tell me it's not true."

"I'm not your first, why should you be mine? You tell me why it matters to you, Jackson. No, you show me why it matters to you and maybe I'll answer you."

He knelt and buried his face in my pubic hair, licking it with his tongue, sucking and biting the skin it covered, his nose pushing at my erect cock. He sucked my balls and then my cock. I'd wanted him for so long I couldn't control myself. I exploded into his mouth, cum blasting out of my cock like rockets.

"Jackson," I panted.

He swallowed every drop and I could hear the sloppy slurping sounds as his mouth bobbed up and down on my cock. The deep bass rumble of his moans drove me crazy with passion.

Then he picked me up and carried me over to his bed. I never ceased to be amazed at his strength. I was only 5'7" with a small swimmer's body compared to his 6'3" muscled football god and he picked me up like I weighed nothing. He looked at my body, his eyes burning with lust.

"You're mine, Noah. You hear me? You're mine and no one else can have you."

His voice was soft. He was demanding and pleading with me at the same time. He pulled my foot to his lips, kissing it, then slowly kissing up my leg, licking it, until he was at my ass. His five o'clock shadow rasped against my skin and my entire body was burning for him.

Then he pushed my legs up to my chest, opening my ass for him. I gasped as his tongue attacked my asshole. Jackson's experience with all those pussies had made him a master at oral sex.

"God, I love your ass," he moaned. "I've wanted it for so long and now I've got it."

His face was buried between my cheeks as he licked me, kissed my ass, fucked me with his tongue, sucked my hole. My body trembled with complete ecstasy as he ate my ass. When at last my hole was completely relaxed, begging for his cock, he sucked my balls, licked my cock, and then kissed upward on my body until he reached my lips. 

He reached over to his nightstand and pulled out a condom and a tube of lubricant. Our eyes were locked together as he slowly lubricated my hole, first with one finger, then two, then three. He found my prostate and massaged it.

"Fuck me, Jackson," I begged. "I want your cock in my ass."

"Don't be in such a rush," he laughed softly, playing with me, pushing me over the edge.

He continued to probe my ass and play with my prostate until I ejaculated again, not as forceful this time, only soaking my pubic hair. I'd never had as many orgasms as I had that afternoon.

"That was amazing," Jackson whispered. "Wonderful, baby."

He knelt between my thighs and began to kiss my body, licking and sucking my cum from my pubes and then upward until at last he reached my face. He licked my face, his eyes never leaving mine. Then he kissed me hard, sharing my cum with me.

"I love your cock honey, Noah," he whispered.

I felt his cock pressing against my hole, teasing it. My entire body was on fire for him as he toyed with me.

"Please, Jackson, please," I begged. "Fuck me. Put your cock in me. Please."

He kissed my face and then pulled his cock away and stopped.

"Now," he said softly. "Tell me I'm the only one, Noah. Truthfully. Tell me you're giving me your cherry."

I grinned and his face fell with despair. I stroked his cheek tenderly and kissed his lips.

"Of course you're the only one, Jackson," I whispered. "You should already know the truth, there's never been anyone for me but you."

"I knew it," he laughed, relieved. "You're mine and I love you, baby."

He entered me then in one thrust and I cried out. He jerked with surprise and instantly he pulled out.

"I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean to hurt you. Damn, I don't know how to do this with a guy."

He was upset with himself. I stroked the hair on his chest and smiled through the pain.

"Remember? You wanted a virgin and my ass is virgin. Add in your monster cock and we've got to take it slow. Haven't you ever fucked a virgin before?"

"No," he grinned. "All the women I've fucked have practically attacked me to get my cock in them."

I burst out laughing and he grinned.

"Oh Jackson, don't ever lose that ego of yours. It's part of why I love you so much."

"So can I fuck you now if I take it slow?"

"Yeah. SLOW."

He made love to me then. He pushed into me gently, allowing me to get adjusted with every short advance into me.

"Okay now, sweetheart?"

I nodded and he kissed my neck, then sucked my nipples as he gradually increased the speed of his fuck, until I was moaning and pushing my ass toward his cock, impaling myself on it. I bit his neck, marking him as mine, kissed him passionately, made love to my man, and became his as he became mine.

I felt his cock jerking as he shot his cum into his condom but he continued to fuck me. Jackson's cock was only about eight inches long but like a Coke can in circumference. He had a well-known reputation for being able to fuck even without a complete erection because of it. 

"Roll over on your stomach, baby. I'm not done with you," he growled sexily.

I rolled over and he pulled his condom off and put another on. He collapsed on my back and my cock became erect again just from the sensation of his body hair pressed into my skin.

He kissed down my back until he parted my cheeks and his tongue probed my rosebud. He made love to my ass again with his mouth for what seemed like forever. There was no doubt about it, Jackson was passionate about my ass.

He hovered over me as if he was doing pushups. He entered me again and began to fuck me like a jackhammer. His big pendulous balls slammed into me with each stroke.

At last he collapsed onto me, biting my neck while his cock stayed buried inside me. I felt wetness on my neck as if his sweat was pouring off his face.

"Tell me that you forgive me for all the wrong I've done to you, Noah," he whispered hoarsely. "Tell me that you'll always love me."

"Of course I forgive you, Jackson," I said softly. "You're my whole life and I'll never stop loving you."

"Thank you, Noah. I promise I'll never hurt you again."

He rolled off me and suddenly I was in his arms, his leg wrapped over mine, cuddling with my teddy bear.

"You fit perfectly next to my body, baby."

"Yeah, I do, don't I?"

"You know what I said about you belonging to me, baby?"

I nodded.

"I belong to you too, all of me. I know what you mean about being so in love you can barely breathe. I never knew I could love someone the way I love you."

"I love you, Jackson."

He kissed me and it was though we were one. His arms surrounded me, my face on his hairy chest, my body melded into his. He held me tenderly until I became drowsy. Then he kissed my forehead.

"Okay," he said, smiling. "We need to get going."

"What?"

"We need to go get your stuff, move you in here."

He sat up, leaving me in the bed. Then he reached down and pulled me up.

"Don't be lazy, baby. Let's go get your stuff!"

"My, aren't you a real romantic, Jackson?" I drawled. "You really no how to charm a guy."

He laughed sexily.

"Come on, baby, I want to get this done. Then I'll take you to dinner and a movie."

I raised my eyebrows, teasing him.

"That's all?"

He leaned over and kissed my lips gently, his hand toying with my hair.

"No," he whispered. "We'll come back here and I'm going to fuck you senseless."

He pulled me to my feet and held me close to him, kissing the top of my head.

"We'll cuddle together all you want tonight. Is that romantic enough for you, baby?"

I bit one of his nipples gently and he moaned.

"Goddamn, baby, let's get out of here while I still can."

He slapped me my ass hard and laughed.

"I'm so glad your ass is all mine now and I can fuck it any time I want."

I grabbed his flaccid cock in my hand and teased it. I pulled at it, pulling it toward me.

"And this is all mine, right? You're all mine from now own, right?"

He kissed my lips and gently bit the lower one.

"Yeah," he whispered, "my cock, my body, all of me is yours from now on. I'm going to fuck you every night, Noah. And every morning. And all day on the weekends."

He grinned his sexy grin and kissed me again, giving me another stinging slap on my ass.

"Come on, baby. We're going to set a speed record moving you into our room."

I stared at his magnificent naked body as he searched for clothes to wear. I loved him more than ever, he loved me, and he was right, we belonged together.



Jackson Hole



The wind whipped around me as I rode my buckskin stallion, Rookie, over the hills of my land. We were riding towards the border of my family's ranch and that of our neighbor's. Jackson, the owner of our neighboring ranch, the Double J, had called my cell phone ten minutes ago telling me that the fence was down between our properties. He and his hands were working to keep our cattle separated since neither ranch branded its stock. I had immediately saddled up Rookie, and, along with my own ranch hands, we had headed out.

We rode over the top of the hill and I could finally see the scene below. Cattle were scrambling around, bawling, as the cowboys worked to keep them apart. I could also see two men working, trying to fix the downed fence.

I urged Rookie on faster, shouting out to my men, asking them to help separate the cattle. I headed towards who I could now see was Jackson and his foreman, Kyle, working on the fence. I slowed Rookie down as I approached the men and hopped agilely down off of his back to the ground. 

"What a way to start the morning, huh guys?" I asked as I knelt down beside Jackson.

"Yeah, you gotta love it," Jackson said through gritted teeth as he stretched barbed wire out between two posts. 

"Nothing like dealing with horny cattle and barbed wire this early in the morning," he muttered, shooting a smile up at me that had my heart flipping in my chest.

Jackson was every woman's typical cowboy fantasy. Tall, lean and corded with muscle, he had that casual grace that came with growing up on a horse's back and the strength to wrestle steers to the ground without breaking a sweat. His dark hair was cropped short under his black hat, and his green eyes were enough to pierce right through a woman's soul if she stared into them for too long. Jackson was also older than me, he was thirty compared to my twenty. In reality he was actually closer to my dad's age than my own. My dad was 36; I was born when he was only 16. Jackson had been ten years old at that time.

I looked up to see my ranch hands, as well as Jackson's, driving the last of our cattle apart and onto their respective sides. The cowboys herded the cattle farther from the fence and deeper onto our ranch lands. I offered to help with stringing the fence but Jackson automatically told me that they were almost done. After that, Jackson and Kyle set the last piece of wire in place and pulled it tight, stapling it in. It rankled a little, the fact that they wouldn't let me help. I wasn't sure if it was because I was a girl or only twenty years old, but either way, I was perfectly capable of stringing fence. I pushed aside my annoyed thoughts as Jackson stood up and began to talk.

We sat there chatting idly for a few minutes. I then turned to get ready and mount up again on Rookie's back as Jackson did the same on his young stallion, Granger. As Jackson reached for Granger's saddle a sudden rattling sound pierced the air. Jackson's horse shrieked loudly and spun towards his ranch, kicking up dust as he ran. Jackson jumped back several feet, pulling out his gun as he did. My heart was in my throat as I searched the ground for the snake. Jackson must have seen it before I did because suddenly a gunshot ripped through the air, causing Rookie to shy away and prance nervously. 

I held on throughout Rookie's dance moves and then looked back to Jackson.

"Sorry hun," he muttered.

He reached out with the toe of his boot and nudged the bloody and lifeless rattler. I grimaced. That was the only part of this area that I hated - the snakes! Rookie was still restless beneath me and I leaned up to pat his neck and murmur softly to him, calming him.

"I can't believe you all worked that close to that son of a gun without him rattling sooner," I told Jackson.

The snake was only four feet from where the downed wire had been. Jackson nodded in agreement to my statement.

"I guess that worthless horse hightailed it back to the barn," Jackson muttered, looking around for Granger, and I laughed.

I knew Jackson didn't think Granger was worthless, the horse was just young and still got spooked sometimes. I scooted up in my saddle some. 

"Hop on, I'll give you a ride back," I told Jackson and he nodded, thanking me.

I slipped my foot out of the stirrup, giving him access to it and he swung himself gracefully up into the saddle behind me. I suppressed a gasp as his hard body came down behind me. I could feel every muscle as it touched me; his hard thighs, his abs, his pecs, his hard arms as they circled around me to take over the reins - of course he wouldn't let ME have control of my own horse when he was on it. I rolled my eyes, but smiled none-the-less.

We started back towards Jackson's ranch; it was a good fifteen minute ride from where we were. After about five minutes I felt another muscle pressing against my back that had not been there before. I was surprised at this. Jackson had never shown interest in me as anything other than his neighbor, the rancher's daughter.

I, of course, had ALWAYS had a huge crush on Jackson that I had never outgrown, but he had never treated me as anything else other than the pesky little sister that I am sure I seemed to be at the time. But this was way different. There was no mistaking what was pressing against my back; I knew it wasn't the gun he had shot the snake with!

I couldn't resist shifting in the saddle a bit, my ass grinding against his groin as we rode, and I swore I heard a small inhalation from behind me as I did. I glanced down and saw that Jackson's hand was white knuckled in the grip he had on the reins. Rookie has the smoothest gait I had ever experienced so I knew THAT wasn't the reason for his death grip.

I smiled to myself, pleased that I could elicit this kind of reaction from Jackson. I shifted again and this time I was the one who gasped as Jackson's free hand came up to grip my waist.

"Erin," he said, his mouth close to my ear. "Ya think you could kinda hold still for a little while?" he asked.

I noticed that his voice was a little rougher than usual; a little huskier. I turned to stare at Jackson in feigned innocence.

"Why, what's wrong?" I asked.

Jackson's face was firm in his resolve not to show any feeling or emotion. His eyebrows were drawn down in concentration.

"Look, I know you feel what you are doing to me right now. And it's not right Erin. You're Frank's daughter! I can't have this kind of reaction to you. You, you're just a kid..." Jackson said in a rush of words.

That got under my skin a little bit. It seemed that everyone around here only thought of me as "Frank's daughter", and to be honest I was kind of growing tired of it. Everyone around our ranch treated me as if I was still the five year old kid who always got in the way.

"Jackson," I said, looking into his eyes. "I know you are closer to my dad's age than you are to mine, but you aren't THAT much older than me. What's so wrong with how you're... how WE'RE feeling? I mean for chrissake you are only 30 years old, not some ancient old fucker who is preying on unsuspecting ten year olds!" 

Once I started talking, I couldn't seem to control it anymore. The annoyance of being treated like a kid had finally grown too big for me to contain anymore. I swung my leg over Rookie's back and slid from underneath of Jackson's reining arm all while Rookie was still in motion. I landed gracefully on my feet beside the horse and turned towards my own ranch; I would walk back.

"Erin! What the hell? Where are you goin' girl?" I heard Jackson shout but I ignored him.

I began to walk through the tall grass, cussing under my breath. I could hear Rookie's steps coming up behind me and knew Jackson had turned around. I ignored him and continued to walk through the soft grass.

"Erin, c'mon. Talk to me. Please, kid?" Jackson pleaded with me from behind.

Little did he know that him calling me kid fueled my frustration to the boiling point. I spun around to face him. He was about ten feet back from me, standing on the ground, with Rookie's reins held loosely in his hands. His face looked utterly confused.

I couldn't seem to help myself. I ripped the thin, cotton t-shirt I was wearing up over my head and threw it on the ground. I then unclasped my black silk bra and slid it off of my shoulders, freeing my 36c tits to Jackson's eyes.

"Does THIS look like the body of a KID?" I shouted, cupping my firm breasts in my hands.

"I'm TIRED of being treated like a kid. I'm not that same five year old who used to dog yer heels every day asking you stupid questions, Jackson!" I said, a little quieter this time.

I felt tears prick behind my eyes and my face flamed red. Damn it. Why did I ALWAYS have to cry when I was mad? It didn't exactly help me to prove my point of being grown up. Jackson was staring at me, his jaw actually hanging open a bit. It began to sink in what I had just done. I felt my cheeks grow even hotter. I stooped down and picked up my clothes, shoving the bra in the back pocket of my jeans and holding the shirt up to my chest. I could feel the tears threatening to spill over.

"Nevermind, Jackson. Look, it doesn't matter. Don't worry about it," I mumbled as I pulled the shirt over my head again and began walking towards my home.

"Take Rookie back to your ranch," I said over my shoulder without facing him. "I'll send one of the hands over later to get him".

I felt a hand touch my shoulder then. I dashed the few tears I hadn't been able to hold in away. I noticed then that my hands were actually trembling from my anger, embarrassment and shame.

"Erin," Jackson said softly, and I turned to face him.

His face looked almost tortured when I looked at it. He reached up and wiped another tear off of my cheek with his thumb. The rough scrape of his callused hand on my face sent chills down my body.

"Its not that I don't think you are grown up. I know you are, and that's my problem," Jackson said quietly. "I'm just having a hard time keeping it in my head that Frank is your dad. I can't imagine him being happy with my lusting over his daughter".

He gave me a charming crooked grin and my heart stuttered a bit. I could see indecision in his face. I could see lust in his eyes but I could also see wariness. I knew if I was ever going to have a chance with Jackson, this would be it. I placed my hand softly on his hard chest.

"Jackson, I don't know for sure but if I were to guess, I would think Daddy would be HAPPY if I was with you. Who else could he trust more with my safety and well-being than you? You would never let anyone or anything hurt me, and Daddy knows that. Hell you won't even let me string a damn fence," I said pointing back towards his ranch.

Jackson actually smiled at this. His hand brushed up along my neck again and he cupped my face. My nipples hardened beneath the thin t-shirt and I knew he could see them. I took a step closer.

"Take a chance with me, Jackson. Daddy might act mad, but deep down I know he will approve," I said in a voice so quiet it was nearly inaudible.

I looked up into his green eyes and I could see the lust burning bright. With a ragged sigh Jackson reached for my waist and dragged me to him. His mouth crushed against mine with an intensity I had never felt before. The kiss was gentle, however, as if even in this he was trying to protect me. One hand on my waist, he ran his other hand gently through my hair, making me sigh in pleasure. Jackson broke away from the kiss, me moaning in protest, but he just smiled at me.

Slowly, Jackson's fingers worked at the buttons of his chambray shirt until he pulled it off his back and placed it on the ground beneath us. My eyes were caught up in every ripple of muscle on his body. I had seen him shirtless before but this was different. His body was so sensual in the graceful way that it moved. He reached for my hand and I took it willingly.

Slowly Jackson sat down on the shirt, pulling me on top of him. He lay back and stared up at me, with a contemplative look on his face. He gave me a smile before placing his hands at the hem of my shirt and lifting it off of my body again. His green eyes raked over my body from my neck, down to my shoulders, further down where it lingered on my breasts and nipples. He reached up and plucked at each nipple, causing me to gasp in pleasure.

His gaze continued down my body to my tight stomach and lean hips. He caressed my body with his eyes, following that caress with his hands, running them lightly over my abdomen and to the waistband of my Levi's. I leaned forward and kissed him softly, running my tongue along his lips. His own tongue came out and tangled with mine. My hands were on his chest and I ran my fingers lightly over the contours of muscles there, over his flat nipples which pebbled beneath my touch and lower to his well defined abs. 

I could feel his erection pressing against my groin through both layers of our layers of denim.

"Too many clothes," I murmured against his mouth and he chuckled softly.

I gasped as I was flipped to my back and Jackson was above me. He leaned down and kissed my nipples, running his tongue along the peaks making me shudder. Slowly his tongue traced a trail lower, over my stomach and to the waistband of my jeans. He deftly unbuttoned my jeans and slid them down over my hips and legs. I kicked my boots and socks off and he slid my jeans the rest of the way off, leaving me in a skimpy pair of underwear. 

"God, you're gorgeous," Jackson muttered as his eyes raked over my entire body. 

I felt his gaze like a touch; everywhere it landed on me goosebumps rose along my skin. Jackson leaned down and kissed me again, his hand traveling lower and cupping my sex within his palm. I gasped into his mouth and my hips bucked up to meet his touch. He chuckled softly. Slowly he slid his hand into my underwear and I felt his fingers tracing my slit. I couldn't contain the whimper that left my mouth. His fingers met the wetness of my pussy and it was his turn to groan. I was soaked.

He pulled his hand back out then and sat up. He reached down and undid his own jeans, shucking them, his boxer briefs and his boots all in one motion. I couldn't take my gaze away from his bobbing cock. It was gorgeous, long, hard, and looked to be made of velvet. I reached my hand up and grasped him. Velvet covered steel was the impression I got. I began to stroke him slowly and his eyes fluttered closed before he opened them and looked down into my eyes.

"I can't wait much longer, baby" he muttered and I smiled up at him.

My legs seemed to fall apart on their own and Jackson moved to straddle me. I watched as he positioned his cock at my entrance and pushed in slightly. My eyes closed as he pressed into my canal; it was so tight, yet so good. After one, long, fluid thrust he had filled me completely.

"Open your eyes, darling," he murmured in my ear as he leaned down. "I wanna see you looking at me the whole time. I want you to know who is here with you today".

That did it, I was lost. My eyes were glued to his face, his body as he began to move in and out of me. His muscles flexed with every movement. His face was a mask of control as he moved within me. I moaned softly as he picked up the pace. Reaching up, I ran my hand along his face and he turned his mouth to kiss my palm softly. His one hand was palming my breast and then moving down to play lightly with my clit, causing me to whimper.

My head was thrown back in pleasure and his mouth latched onto my throat, nipping softly. This was enough to push me right to the edge. I shouted out my pleasure as I felt me pussy began to contract around him.

"Jackson, please, please, harder" I murmured, my head thrashing from side to side.

This seemed to snap Jackson's control and he began to pound into me. His body slapped against my own with every thrust. My pussy was spasming around his hard cock as I felt myself go completely over the edge.

"OH YES" I screamed out, my fingers clutching at his shoulders since I was sure I would fly away if I let go.

I could feel Jackson's restraint falter and then he was pouring his load into me. His fierce growl as he came caused aftershocks of the orgasm within my own body. I moaned as I tried to bring myself back down to Earth. Jackson had collapsed on top of me, his arms bracing him from crushing me. His breath was coming in pants as he rolled to the side, pulling me with him. 

My own breath was ragged with release as I bent towards him and kissed him long and hard on the mouth. His hands pulled me close and he held me tight. He broke the kiss gently, still gasping for breath.

"Jesus..." he murmured and I laughed softly.

After catching our breath for a few minutes Jackson stood and helped me up. We both pulled on our discarded clothes quietly. I wasn't sure what was gonna come next and my nerves shot up.

Jackson whistled to Rookie who was munching on grass quietly and the stallion trotted over to us. I pulled on my last boot and walked over to them. Jackson mounted up first and then held out a hand, helping me up in front of him. He turned Rookie towards my own ranch.

"What about getting you home?" I asked softly, the nerves making my voice break, to my embarrassment.

Jackson chuckled softly.

"We'll get to that- after we go and have a chat with your father, because if we don't he might wonder why I am not letting his daughter out of my sight from now on," he said leaning forward and kissing the back of my neck.

I giggled softly at the touch; my mood had shot up sky high. I couldn't believe it... I had reined in the cowboy!



Jackson in HRPG-World 01



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 1,936 gold coins. In his pockets.

That wasn't all. He was also currently carrying twenty daggers, fifty arrows, seven swords, seven axes, three spears, eight wizard's staffs, two hammers, three shields, five helmets, sixty assorted bits of armor, six pairs of boots, a whip, and seventy-two medicinal herbs. And this was before even considering the slimeballs and other weirdness he didn't dare sell off in case it turned out to be useful later. In a rucksack.

It was kind of stupid when you thought about it.

Jackson tried not to.

It was a stupid world.

The corridor turned around to the right. He must be getting near the heart of the dungeon. Nothing had leapt out to commit suicide on the end of his sword for the last fifty paces.

The walls were made out of crumbling old stone, lit up at regular intervals with burning torches. Foul smelling water oozed out of cracks and dribbled down the walls. The corridor continued for maybe a hundred meters or so before turning right again. Jackson was more interested in the big wooden door situated in the right hand wall, about halfway down the corridor.

Such an obvious boss location, he thought. So predictable.

He walked down the corridor and stopped outside the door. It was big—more than two meters high and wide enough for two men to walk through abreast. It was also in considerably better condition than the rest of the ruins. The wood was bright red in color and the hinges were freshly polished brass.

This definitely led to the area boss.

Jackson paused and checked his status. The last fight had taken him up to level thirteen. He had some new skill points. He put them into Sword and noticed how the blade in his hand suddenly felt lighter. He cast Cure to take his health back to full.

A little over a week ago Jackson had been living a fairly ordinary, if dull, life as a software developer writing transaction processing systems for a bank. It was as interesting as it sounded, but it paid well and Jackson felt fortunate to have landed the job straight out of university. In evenings he spent his time playing console games and at the weekend he hit the bars to watch sports with the guys from work.

All that had gone to hell when he'd been sucked into a computer game.

It was a long story.

The ending was simple. Beat the game and he was out. No problem. Jackson was fucking shit-hot at computer games...

...but did it have to be a fucking Japanese Role-Playing Game?

Everyone knew fantasy JRPGs were the turdiest of turds in the gaming world. Well, apart from the old nerds that still went misty-eyed at the mention of Final Fantasy VII. At least in Tron, Garrett Hedlund had Beau Garrett in a skintight silver jumpsuit to drool over. Jackson had bug-eyed morons with memories that would shame a goldfish. On leaving the first village he'd managed maybe forty meters before a giant cucumber had sprung out of the undergrowth and attacked him with a spear.

JRPGs were fucking stupid, and he was trapped in one. 

At least it would be easy. All JRPGs were. Kill monsters until you leveled up enough to kill harder monsters. Repeat until the end of the game. Whenever that was.

That was the problem with JRPGs, they dragged on for fucking forever. He knew from bitter experience. Those bastards had sucked up months of his life before he'd finally grown up and discovered GTA and real games.

Maybe he'd figure out some kind of strategic exploit. All these games could be broken in half once a smart player figured them out. The only problem was Jackson was still working through the dull-as-shit early stages. It had already taken him over a week to find this, the second dungeon.

At least he was at the boss.

Okay, let's do this.

He pushed the door open.

On the other side was a large throne room. Gaily-colored silk banners adorned the walls. The whole room was a massive contrast to the rest of the crumbling ruins. A thick red carpet scrunched beneath his sandals as he entered the room. Impressive chandeliers and candelabra bathed the room in a warm glow. At the far end of the room a golden throne sat on a raised dais.

So predictable.

A sexy and extremely sluttily-dressed girl sat on the throne. Demon girl to be more exact. As Jackson walked up to the throne she stood up and purple-black bat wings unfurled from behind her back. As well as the wings she also had horns and a long slender tail with the classic spade-like tip.

Not a bad collection of pixels, if you were into that kind of thing.

"Welcome to the lair of Moréhâgg the succubus, adventurer," horny fetish-bait said. "I'm going to enjoy playing with you."

"And ima gonna give your face a good turkey-slappin' wiv my penis," Jackson said.

Jackson had given up bothering to say anything sensible. It was a JRPG. No one had more than three lines of dialogue and it didn't matter what he said anyway.

Demonic perv-magnet pouted at him. "Wouldn't you rather I sucked it instead?"

Eh?

No time to ponder what he'd thought she said. He felt that strange swirly dislocation that indicated he was about to enter battle. His vision blurred and then cleared. He was standing in the same location, but everything around him appeared crisper, as if he was seeing it all at a higher resolution.

That included the succubus.

Jackson smiled and shook his head. So predictable. Didn't matter what age the game was aimed at, the dirty old developers couldn't resist sneaking in an obvious fetish fuel character for them and their audience of adolescent boys to perv over. Jackson used to be one of those adolescent boys before he'd grown up and realized how sad it was.

Moréhâgg was worthy of a good perv. She looked like filth incarnate. She possessed the mountainous silicone-enhanced peaks of a porn actress welded to an impossibly thin wasp waist—the kind of figure that could only exist in hentai. Her costume wasn't exactly there to preserve modesty. Her shiny purple top revealed more cleavage than it hid, and the glossy material was stretched almost to bursting trying to contain her abundant breasts. The eye-shaped clasp that held the thing together at her chest looked like it might pop at any moment. Most of her flat belly, including the little dimple of her navel, was exposed. Her long lithe legs were covered in kinky fishnet stockings that ran down to a pair of sexy stiletto heels. The stockings were attached to her waist with suspenders.

Fetish fuel. Pure filthy fetish fuel.

She was also the area boss. Jackson could tell—she had her own battle theme.

That was the other stupid thing. Every time he went into battle, music would start playing even though there wasn't a single musician in sight. Usually it was something wibbly-warbly that was meant to be rousing, but instead sounded like someone farting through a tin in a bath full of semen. Moréhâgg's music was different—slow and slinky. Dirty.

Wait!

Jackson noticed she wasn't wearing any underwear. He looked between her legs and saw a neat little bar of trimmed pubic hair and the shadowy cleft of her pussy.

This was...unexpected.

He remembered her words before the battle had begun. Had she actually said what he thought he'd heard her say?

Moréhâgg stood next to the throne and gave her long red nails a bored glance.

"Are you going to do something, or do I have to wait here all day?"

That jerked Jackson to attention. Yes, it was his turn.

He charged forwards and slashed Moréhâgg across her ample chest. He felt the impact and Moréhâgg doubled up. Thirty-one flashed above her head in floating red numbers. Then she stood back up straight and Jackson saw no visible mark his attack had hit her.

None of his attacks ever did. Jackson had slaughtered hundreds of stupid gonks in the ruins above and in the countryside leading up to them and his blade was still as pristine and shiny as if it had been freshly forged. Kids' game. No blood effects allowed here.

"Is that all?" Moréhâgg taunted.

Jackson knew he'd damaged her from the numbers he'd seen flash above her head.

She looked down at his sword.

"No wonder. You're still using that? Why didn't you get the better one at the last town?"

"Waste of money," Jackson muttered at his toes.

Never buy weapons. There was always the same or better hiding in the next chest. That's how JRPGs worked.

The demon girl threw a fireball at him and he smoothly dodged it. He didn't know how much health she had left. Probably not much. The fetish fuel enemies were usually pretty flimsy, but they often made up for it with lots of annoying status-changing attacks. Best if he finished this quickly. Time to use...

"Oh, are you going to use one of your special attacks?" Moréhâgg asked. Her eyes shone with excitement.

Who was this? She was the first character Jackson had encountered that seemed aware they were in a world constrained by weird videogame rules.

"Come on, let's see it," Moréhâgg said eagerly.

Jackson took up a stance with his sword. He hated this part.

"Aww, are you embarrassed," Moréhâgg said. "You know it doesn't work if you don't call it first."

Jackson knew. Unfortunately.

"Super Slash," he muttered through gritted teeth.

Stupid Japanese anime conventions. She was right though, it didn't work unless he called it first. Jackson hated that. It always made him feel like the dorkiest Dork McDorkien.

The succubus put a hand to her mouth and giggled.

Flames flickered along the edge of Jackson's sword.

Laugh this off, bitch, he thought.

He charged and hit her with an upward stroke that flung her backwards. Seventy-one flickered above her head in red numbers.

Yeah! That's more like it.

"Like that, huh," Jackson said. "After I beat you I'm going to use this 'bad' sword on you like a dildo. If I'm feeling nice I might even insert it hilt first."

"Ooh, kinky," the succubus said, standing back up with a smile on her full lips.

She threw another fireball. This time Jackson blocked it with his shield, taking no damage.

"But it's your other 'sword' I'm interested in." The succubus glanced down at Jackson's waist. "Even if it looks a little small."

What the fuck!

"Fuck you!" Jackson shouted.

He connected with another sideways slash and thirty-one flashed above Moréhâgg's head.

"Fuck using my sword. I'm going to shove a hammer up there instead. No, one of my shields!"

Moréhâgg spun back around to face him. For all her exaggerated curves, her moves were as fluid as a dancer's. She placed a long finger against her silky smooth cheek.

"You seem a very angry young adventurer. It's time to use one of my special attacks. I think you'll like it." Her red eyes twinkled as she smiled at him. "How about it? Would you like to see my Puff-Puff attack?"

Jackson shook his head. Puff-Puff. Really. Those wacky Japanese, always trying to get crap past the radar.

"Isn't that some lame euphemism for rubbing your titties in my face."

Moréhâgg smiled. She placed her hands on either side of her swollen breasts and squeezed them together. Jackson almost expected to hear some kind of stupid boing sound effect.

"Why don't you close your eyes, relax and enjoy it," Moréhâgg said with a voice like crushed velvet.

"Yeah right," Jackson said. "And when I open them you'll be rubbing two of those stupid slime creatures against the side of my head. Or it will be two sheep rubbing their asses against me. Don't bother trying to tease me. I know this is an E10 game. There's no way you're getting your tits out."

Moréhâgg pounced, knocking Jackson on his back and pinning him to the floor. She straddled his chest and unhooked the catch holding her latex corset-thing together. Her breasts—big, pink and extremely bouncy—bobbed free.

They were...impressive.

"You were right with the first guess," Moréhâgg said with a lascivious smile. She caught her swaying mammaries and cupped them in her hands.

Jackson looked up at the swaying mounds of creamy-pink flesh. He clearly saw the perky little pink points of her nipples. What the fuck was going on here? This didn't happen in battles. They all followed the same ridiculous yet inviolable laws.

Moréhâgg's red eyes twinkled. Her moist lips pouted as if for a kiss. "Puff-Puff," she breathed.

She fell forwards, burying his head in the warm space between her large and extremely soft boobs. Jackson lay back, unable do anything as she covered his face with her bosom. She twisted her upper body from side to side and Jackson felt the soft mass of her heavy breasts paff his head one way and then the other.

Giggling, Moréhâgg pressed down harder. Her arms went around the back of his head and she scooped him up into the smothering embrace of her cleavage. Jackson's head, wedged up between her soft boobs, moved from side to side as she twisted her body. Her skin felt like the smoothest silk as it rubbed against his cheeks. His nose and mouth were pressed so tightly into her chest it was hard to breathe.

Moréhâgg had no intention of suffocating him just yet. She let his head fall away enough to allow him to take a breath. He inhaled air saturated with the heady musk of her body. Laughing, she paffed his head with her swinging breasts. Then she was pressing down again and squeezing her tits together around his face.

"What do you think, adventurer? Nice aren't they. Have you ever felt a pair as warm and as soft as this?"

Jackson hadn't, although he couldn't admit that. His mouth was filled with her overflowing chest. She let him take another hasty breath and then started squeezing her boobs against the sides of his face again, squeezing them like they were super-soft rubber balls.

Was this an actual attack? What kind of fucked up game was this?

Actually, it felt pretty sweet.

At least up until the point when Moréhâgg didn't lift up to allow him to take a breath. Instead she responded to his squirming struggles by pressing her chest down even harder, smothering him as effectively as if she'd placed a pillow over his face.

"I need you nice and pliant for my other moves," Moréhâgg said.

Jackson wriggled as he tried, unsuccessfully, to squirm out from under her. His lungs were aching.

"And now my other Puff-Puff attack."

She lifted her smothering bosom. Her breasts shivered and two thick purple clouds of perfume puffed out of her nipples...

...right as Jackson sucked in a much-needed lungful of air.

Ohhh...

The fumes rushed up to his brain and sent it sailing away on fluffy, perfumed clouds. He lay back on the floor and felt all his muscles relax as the tension drained from his body. Well, not all of it. Down between his legs he felt a great deal of tension straining against his underwear.

"Time to make you a little more comfortable," Moréhâgg said. "It's far too hot in here to be wearing all this leather armor."

She went straight to his groin, undid the buckle and pulled down his leather leggings. Jackson didn't resist. He thought he might be hallucinating as there were little dancing pink hearts floating in front of his vision. Moréhâgg pulled away his cotton underwear and his cock bobbed up like a hypnotized snake.

"Ooh, nice," Moréhâgg said. She ran a moist tongue around her glossy red lips.

The hearts went away. Jackson noticed the comfortable paralysis that had kept him still had ended. He could move. He tightened his grip on his sword.

The succubus noticed too.

"Humph. Lucky roll," she pouted. "The entrancement should have lasted for at least another two turns."

Rolls? Turns? What was she?

Jackson started to raise his sword.

Moréhâgg poked his wrist with a single finger. "Block."

Jackson's hand fell back onto the floor.

Moréhâgg shifted position. The pink mountainous peaks of her naked breasts loomed over Jackson's face.

"Double Puff-Puff."

Her nipples were already expelling more clouds of perfume as she dropped down and mashed Jackson's face up between the soft pillows of her breasts. Mewling in pleasure, she rubbed them against his face. Jackson's vision vanished beneath jiggling pink flesh. Moréhâgg made a lot of indecent noises as she smothered him with her tits. Three times she pressed down hard enough to cut off his air, and three times she allowed him breaths tainted with her cloying, magical perfume.

At the end of it 'Jackson is enthralled and cannot move' was scrolling through his head like a child's first attempt at a goto program. A silly grin was plastered on his lips and his cock was throbbing hard enough to burst.

"Better," Moréhâgg said. "That should keep you still for a while."

Jackson couldn't move, but other than that his thoughts were relatively clear...apart from the distraction provided by his raging hard-on. Moréhâgg squatted right above it. Her vagina was completely exposed, naked and not even pixelated. Jackson's cock wasn't pixelated either.

This had gone way beyond lame innuendo. She was really going to fuck him. That couldn't be right. Even the sleaziest of game developers wouldn't dare going this far.

Well apart from that crazy dude who'd made that fucked up monster girl game.

"Um, isn't this a children's game?" Jackson said. "E10+?"

Moréhâgg cocked her head. "You're over eighteen aren't you?"

"Yeah."

"Then quit complaining."

She sat down.

On his cock.

Unable to move, Jackson watched as his throbbing hard-on slowly vanished inside her. It felt like he was pushing up inside a cup of some kind of warm, soft, gooey substance. Moréhâgg sighed as she reached the base of his penis. Her labia puffed up, forming a tight cuff around the root of his cock. Her pussy wriggled around him and a thick cloud of pleasure diffused down his shaft and through his body.

"Oh yes," Moréhâgg sighed.

She closed her eyes. Her left hand squeezed the firm globe of her breast. Her pussy stopped wriggling and instead squeezed tightly around him, packing her soft squishy tissue up against every over-sensitized millimeter of his throbbing hard-on.

Jackson's mouth fell open.

That felt nice.

At least until the familiar slap he felt every time an enemy's attack hit him. Forty-four flashed above his head in red numbers. Moréhâgg gave a contented sigh. Forty-four flashed above her head in green numbers.

She was draining his health points to replenish her own?

Her pussy relaxed, feeling again like a cup filled with warm gooey jelly.

"Mmm." Moréhâgg shifted position. Her chest, and the pleasant curves of her breasts, rose as she drew in a relaxed breath.

She breathed out and her pussy pressed tightly around his cock with a moist squish. Jackson's legs quivered as he felt her soft flesh squeeze his erection with a pleasant pulsing motion.

The pleasure was again forestalled by a slap as forty-four flashed above his head in red numbers. The same number appeared above the succubi's head in green.

She gave an indecent sigh. Her cheeks reddened. Both of her hands squeezed the bulges of her tits together.

"This is my second favorite action," Moréhâgg said. "Do you like it."

"I'm not sure I like what it's doing to my health points," Jackson said.

Moréhâgg tipped her head back and laughed. She shifted position in his lap, bouncing against him with little rocks of her hips. The gooey flesh of her pussy pressed tightly against his cock in another smothering embrace. Snugly gripped, Jackson felt more pulsing little sucks run up his throbbing shaft.




Jackson in HRPG-World 01



Oh...Oh...

His heels rattled against the stone floor. His hips moved against her with involuntary jerks. Her body was a soft warm centre wrapped around his most intimate organ. He thought he might have come. Something had oozed out.

He felt another weird slap as another forty-four point chunk vanished from his health and went to the demon girl straddling him.

Moréhâgg opened her eyes and smiled down at Jackson. Her face had a contented glow.

"Back to full health," she said.

"That's...uh...good to hear," Jackson said. "That means you can stop, right...?"

Her three hits had taken over ninety percent of his health.

Moréhâgg placed a long finger at the corner of her full lips and gave him a coquettish smile.

"The next one will take me to zero health," Jackson said.

He didn't know what would happen then. He wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

Moréhâgg shifted position in his lap. Her labia tightened around the root of his cock, preparing for the final suck that would take Jackson right to the Game Over screen.

"Please."

Moréhâgg paused. She smiled down at Jackson.

"The fight has gone long enough. My Coup de Grâce move is ready."

Coup de Grâce? Monsters had those as well?

"It's my super special move. You'll really like it."

Moréhâgg started to move against him. Her hips rocked against him with light bounces that gradually increased in force and frequency. Her heavy breasts swayed as she bobbed up and down. She was really fucking him now. He felt the cloying suction of her pussy every time she lifted her hips. The cushioned cuff of her labia bulged out every time her body slapped down against him.

Jackson felt a trembling tension jangle through his legs and buttocks. A pleasant wriggling sensation squirmed in his balls. This was fucking crazy. He was about to come buckets inside a boss of a stupid JRPG.

And it was going to— 

(kill?)

—Game Over him.

He couldn't do anything. He was helpless and about to receive her ultimate attack, whatever that was.

"Can't we talk it over?" Jackson said. "I have gold..." he added hopefully.

Moréhâgg kept her upper body still as her hips smoothly bounced up and down on Jackson. She stared straight ahead and moved her arms and hands in front of her breasts in sinuous motions that looked like some kind of weird yoga move.

"Ultimate Succu-Fuck Drain," she said.

Her hands moved in a circle. A glowing pentagram spun out from each palm. They expanded and tipped over into horizontal circles wide enough to contain both Moréhâgg's and Jackson's bodies. One, its outline ghostly, sank down through Jackson until it was lying flat on the floor. The other rose above Moréhâgg until it became a floating counterpart to the circle on the floor.

This looked bad. Real bad.

"Um...Um..." Jackson started. He gave the edges of the circle he was lying within a nervous glance.

Moréhâgg gave an orgiastic moan. The circles flared with purple-black light, forming a shining column that enclosed both of them. The stone floor suddenly vanished and Jackson was falling into some kind of purple-black matter that gave beneath him like spongy-soft cushions. The impact jammed his cock deeper up inside Moréhâgg. The squishy walls of her pussy clenched even more tightly around him. He felt his glans pushing up against some kind of soft fleshy sphincter. It gave with a pop and so did Jackson. He shuddered as a warm gush of pleasure flooded out of his trembling body.

Now he really was coming buckets.

Red numbers appeared above his head and whirled like slots on speed. One hundred...one thousand...

Moréhâgg's eyes were closed. She looked serene as she straddled him. Her chest quivered and throbbed in time to the pulsing suction tugging on Jackson's cock. He felt it, a soft orifice that wrapped around the swollen head of his erection and sucked spurt after spurt out of his quivering member.

...ten thousand...

Moréhâgg sighed in ecstasy and squeezed her breasts. Jackson writhed beneath her, his body no longer under his control as she emptied his balls with great lusty swallows.

...one million...

Emptied him.

Jackson passed out when the numbers hit forty-four million.

* * * *

"Bless you, child. The Almighty watches over you."

Jackson woke up in a church with a priest standing over him.

So that's what happened when his health hit zero. He went back to the last save point. Phew. That wasn't so bad. Maybe it was worth 'losing' that fight a few more times before proceeding, he thought with a grin.

Huh, what was he doing back in his shitty starting clothes? And—

His gold! They'd taken all his money and equipment!

"Motherfucking cunt-faced bitch!"

The priest placidly ignored his outburst.

That wasn't all. Something didn't feel right.

"Hey dickwad, how much XP until the next level?" he asked the priest.

"You require fifteen experience points to reach level two."

"Level two! I was level thirteen!"

"It appears you were hit by a very powerful level-draining attack," the priest said.

Jackson wasn't listening. He sat with his head in hands. Thirteen levels gone, sucked out of him. All the grinding he'd done over the last week, wasted.

Level one.

"Fuck."

Oh well, nothing for it. It was back to the starting area forest. He had a lot of those annoying blue bouncing slime-things to kill.

To be continued (infrequently)... 



Jackson in HRPG-World 02



HYDRA's NOTE

This series is a little more anarchic and silly than my usual work. Normally I post only in Erotic Horror, but as this features sexy parodies of various computer games, horror isn't really the right home for it, although the story still features plenty of hot succubus action.

This is aimed more for the readers that like my succubi and monster girls, but wish I didn't have to kill my main characters off all the time. It's meant to be a little more lighthearted and fun. If you prefer my darker tales, don't worry, I have something just for you squirming in the pipeline ;)

Enjoy!

/NOTE

Where was he now? Ian Jackson thought.

He was standing on a giant conveyer belt running through some kind of madhouse factory. Giant gears clanked and clacked amongst puffs of steam. A lunatic carousel tune played in the background.

This didn't look like the usual hackneyed, sub-Tolkienesque setting he expected for a fantasy role-playing computer game. It was a cavernous factory, more suited to a First Person Shooter or Horror game, although the crazy organ-grinder music playing in the background seemed a poor fit for either.

Jackson wasn't alone on the conveyer belt. He might have been tempted to describe them as toys. They were yellow and looked like a plushy doll of a cartoon character—some kind of flightless bird with a long bill. A kiwi?

The dolls were hideous. They looked as though they'd been put together by demented lab assistants working under Doctor Frankenstein. The stitching was crude, visible, and looked more like scars. None of the dolls had legs or feet. Instead, a pair of miniature cartwheels was attached to the sides of their bodies. Jackson doubted they were toys. Children were more likely to run screaming than play with these.

They were also alive.

Jackson watched as one of the bird-doll-things sat up and blinked oversized cartoon eyes. It was maybe about three-foot in height. The thing turned a head and looked around. In animation it looked like a real-life cartoon gone horribly wrong.

More bird-doll-things stirred as the conveyer belt reached an end illuminated with purple and red spotlights. More of the bird-doll-things waited for them, but they were brown in colour rather than yellow and directed the new arrivals with the scowling efficiency of airport security personnel. Jackson watched as the bird-doll-thing ahead of him hopped off the end of the belt. It was given a leather bum bag and pointed in the direction of a growing queue.

Then it was Jackson's turn. He stepped off the end of the belt. The brown bird-doll-thing was halfway through the motion of giving Jackson a bum bag when it paused.

Jackson was about average height by human standards, which meant he towered over the three-foot-high bird-doll-thing. The brown attendant turned and found its bill level with Jackson's crotch. It tilted its head up a little, then a little more, and then tilted it up a lot more until it could actually see Jackson's face. It blinked slowly, as if aware something wasn't quite right with the picture but not exactly sure what.

"Um, where is this place?" Jackson asked.

Crazy oompah carousel music continued to blare away in the background.

"You're in the Nether Regions, mate," the bird-doll-thing said.

Nether Regions? Must be the setting for this game.

"What am I supposed to do?" Jackson asked.

He wanted to ask, 'What is my objective in this game?' but most characters he came across, even the obvious designated game tutors, rarely gave any indication they knew this was really a computer game.

"Work for the masters, pay off your debt, get reincarnated back to the living world, mate."

"Living world?"

"You're dead, mate," the bird-doll-thing said. "These are the Nether Regions. Souls are reincarnated here in the form of k'winnies and must work to pay off the debts their sinning accrued during their life, mate."

"Dead? No no no," Jackson said, shaking a finger.

He wasn't dead. It was just a computer game. He was trapped inside until . . . well, he wasn't sure exactly. He'd thought it was until he completed the game, but the rules—and the game—kept changing.

"Mate, they all say that," the brown bird-doll-thing—k'winny?—said.

"Look at me," Jackson said. "Do I look like I belong here?"

The k'winny peered at him. It frowned. Or rather Jackson assumed the expression was a frown given that it had a cartoon bird face rather than a human face. It blinked. Then it turned around and fetched a novelty yellow baseball cap that resembled the top half of one of the k'winny's heads. The bill had a slender beak stitched into the fabric and there were a pair of large googly eyes glued to the front. The k'winny motioned for Jackson to duck down and then it reached up to place the k'winny cap on his head. It looked up and smiled. All was right in its world again.

Jackson glanced up at the cap on his head and shook his head.

The k'winny bent down, retrieved the greyish-brown bum bag it had put aside and handed it to Jackson.

"This is to hold your tāra, mate," it said.

That meant nothing to Jackson. He held the bag up and looked at it in bafflement.

Something bumped against his leg. Jackson turned and saw another blearily blinking k'winny had come off the belt.

"Move along, mate," the brown k'winny said. "You're holding things up. Move along. Move along, mate." He directed Jackson with a limb that was somewhere between a wing and an arm and looked fit for neither purpose.

Jackson walked away shaking his head. Maybe it was one of those games where he had to do a bunch of everyday shit for a couple of hours before the real plot became apparent. JRPGs never seemed in any hurry to actually start.

He joined a line of yellow k'winnies. Two of them looked back at him in surprise. At least until they saw the yellow cap on his head, at which point they went back to grumbling amongst themselves as if nothing at all was out of place.

"K'winnies!"

A shrill voice ripped through the factory. The voice was high-pitched, as though the owner was small, but it blasted through the air as if expelled by the lungs of a giant.

"Oh k'winnies," the voice warbled.

"Shit. It's Pihanga."

Jackson turned his head. All the brown k'winnies had suddenly vanished. When he turned his head back the yellow k'winnies had vanished as well. Jackson was left alone to face the small party walking towards him.

Not quite alone. The k'winnies were still there, but hidden behind the barrels and crates littering the floor of the factory. Jackson saw a yellow head poke up from behind a barrel.

"K'WINNIES!"

The head hastily ducked back down. Jackson wondered if he should be joining it, but by then it was already too late. The party, a strange trio of individuals, had reached him.

At the front was a girl. Sort of. She had the dainty body of an adolescent girl or gymnast, but she also had horns, a tail and a pair of vestigial bat wings that looked too small to be anything other than ornamental. A devil girl, in miniature. Her eyes were the colour of raspberry juice. She gave off the air of a stroppy and spoilt teen and dressed as though she hadn't yet learned the difference between party girl and streetwalker. Spiky black hair erupted in defiance of gravity from two pigtails and her pointed ears were adorned with gaudy, lizard-skull earrings. Her red gloves and boots—long enough to reach her elbows and thighs respectively—covered more flesh than the rest of her clothes combined. Shorts that were little more than panties hid her crotch while a band of red leather was all that covered her chest. Not that there was much to cover—she was as flat as an ironing board.

"Aha, here's one," she said, looking at Jackson.

Behind her stood a pale-faced man in evening wear that had seen better days. Jackson assumed he was a vampire—one of the old school Nosferatu, not one of those stupid twinkly fairies from Twilight. He was hunched, had a hook for a nose, wide staring eyes and fangs so long they made him talk funny. Jackson supposed he should be scared of him, but he couldn't quite muster fear in the face of what appeared to be a walking cartoon caricature.

"Are you sure Mithtreth Pihanga? It lookth a little large and . . . awkward for a k'winny," the vampire said with a reedy lisp.

"Of course it's a k'winny, Schreck," the little devil girl said. "See," she pointed at the yellow cap on Jackson's head.

Jackson looked up at the bill of the baseball cap. They couldn't be fucking serious.

The third figure giggled. Jackson had no clue what she was doing here. She looked like an angel—in the cartoon sense. Fluffy white wings too small for flight stuck out from her back. A white ribbon was tied in her long blue hair. She had a similar flat-chested figure to the devil girl, Pihanga, but less of it was visible beneath her sensible white robes. Was it Halloween in the madhouse or something?

"Come with me, k'winny," the stroppy little devil girl ordered.

"Fuck off," Jackson retorted.

Pihanga pulled out a gun and shot him in the face.

From his position on the floor of the factory Jackson looked up and saw a white number—forty-four—floating up into the darkness beneath the roof. Oh yeah, computer game physics. Boy was he glad for those stupid role-playing game physics. It meant he could be shot right in the face with a gun and it do nothing so long as the damage was less than his total hit points.

He wondered how many hit points he had. Normally he was able to see his full status. Not here for some reason. Maybe this was some kind of intro and the game hadn't actually started yet.

He got back up to his feet.

Schreck stared at him with his blank fish eyes opened wide. The angel girl had hands on her cheeks. Pihanga was turning her gun over in her hands with a puzzled expression on her face.

"One shot is normally enough to kill a level one k'winny," she said, looking at her gun suspiciously.

"He doeth theem rather hardy for a k'winny, mithtreth," Schreck said. "Are you thure—"

"He's an uber k'winny!" the angel said. She bounced with excitement like a tween standing in line for a Justin Bieber signing. "I told you they had a sixth rank."

Schreck looked up at the numbers floating away into the darkness of the ceiling. "It doeth theem to potheth an unusually high number of hit pointh."

At the mention of 'unusually high number of hit points,' Pihanga's pointed ears pricked up and she switched her attentions from the gun to Jackson. Her eyes lit up and her lips curled up in a crafty smile. "High hit points . . ."

She skipped forwards.

"I'm Pihanga, Empress of Elegance and Overlord-to-be of all the Nether Regions. You'll be a perfect addition to my k'winny mob."

"Uh . . . okay," Jackson said.

He didn't want to test if he had enough hit points to survive a second shot from her gun.

"Good." Pihanga turned to the side and a giant ghostly blue keypad appeared before her out of thin air. "Now to name you."

"Um. Actually, I already have a name," Jackson said.

Pihanga ignored him and tapped keys on the ghostly floating blue keypad. D, a, B, i, g, B . . . Jackson saw letters appear above the keypad.

"There. Perfect," Pihanga said.

DaBigBoom? What kind of stupid name was DaBigBoom? Only an eight-year-old could come up with a character name as stupid as that.

"Hey. I have a name. I'm—"

Pihanga moved her hand to the bottom right of the screen and tapped the enter button.

"—DaBigBoom," DaBigBoom finished.

He paused. Wait, that wasn't right. His name was DaBigBoom not DaBigBoom.

Huh?

No. His. Name. Was. DaBigBoom.

DaBigBoom tried again, but every time he thought of his name, DaBigBoom came up instead of DaBigBoom.

This sucks, DaBigBoom thought.

"Come along, DaBigBoom," Pihanga said. "We have the Nether Regions to conquer."

"And then it's the Post Game content," the angel said, jumping up and down with girlish excitement.

DaBigBoom looked at them—the trashy devil girl, the blue-haired angel, and the cartoon Nosferatu caricature. What kind of insane game had he fallen into? Shaking his head, he followed them out of the factory.

He walked out onto a landscape somewhere between Burton and Bosch. A spooky castle with spires sticking out at odd angles pierced the sky. Scattered around them were vast lakes of molten orange lava.

"Where are we?" DaBigBoom asked.

"These are the Nether Regions, home to demons, monsters and k'winnies containing the souls of mortals that sinned during their lives in the Living World," the angel said.

"So hell, basically," DaBigBoom said. "Hey, what was that about k'winnies?"

"Anyone who sinned during their life is reincarnated in the form of a k'winny. They must work off the debt their sinning incurred during their life before they can be reincarnated back to the Living World. In heaven we set them all kinds of boring tasks to do. In the Nether Regions it's much better. They get to fight for the glory of the Overlord!" The angel finished with a rousing flourish.

DaBigBoom looked at her fluffy white wings and white robes. "Heaven? Are you an angel?"

"Trainee," the girl said. "I'm Angel Student Fiore. Or was," she said, her nose wrinkling into a grimace. "They kicked me out for downloading shota porn."

Her breezy smile returned.

"I don't mind. It's far more exciting down here. We get to go on missions and kill people."

DaBigBoom didn't know what to say to that.

They walked into the castle and DaBigBoom was surrounded by a motley collection of monsters—rotting zombies, hunched over dragons shuffling on their hind legs, lions with scorpion tails and even girls standing inside giant roses. It was odd, weird, but not very scary. More Jim Henson than Nightmare on Elm Street.

The girls in the roses were also kinda hot and not wearing much more than a few strategically positioned bits of foliage. One of them winked at DaBigBoom and blew him a kiss.

"They're hermaphrodites," Fiore whispered in his ear.

DaBigBoom's hand froze mid-wave.

"I'm not sure what they're doing here either. They're not supposed to appear until the sequels," Fiore continued, making absolutely no sense again.

Pihanga made her way to the main hall. A spear stood in the centre of room. At first DaBigBoom thought there was a severed, moustachioed head impaled on the spear. Impaled so hard the point came right out of the top of the skull. The head seemed surprisingly well preserved. Then Pihanga picked the spear up, the head's eyes flicked open and DaBigBoom realised the head was actually part of the spear itself.

"Hey, unhand me!" the spear complained in a prissy voice.

Piihanga ignored it and tapped the shaft loudly on the stone floor. "Subjects!" she called out. "The throne of the Overlord will soon be mine. Join me and share in the glory!"

The weird inhabitants ignored her and carried on with what they were doing.

"Join me for a share of the loot?" Pihanga tried again.

That got the attention of some of the inhabitants, but only briefly before they waved their hands dismissively at her and walked away laughing.

Pihanga's nostrils flared. She looked like a teenage girl in a strop because her parents wouldn't let her go to the party.

"K'WINNY MOB!" she bellowed, banging the butt of the spear so hard onto the ground the moustachioed head complained in a camp whine.

A motley crew of yellow bird-doll-things emerged, grumbling, from the shadows. They looked even worse for wear than the Frankenstein's abominations DaBigBoom had seen on the factory conveyer belt. They looked like they'd been repeatedly torn apart and then stitched back up again by someone with only a passing familiarity with what they'd originally looked like.

"We're going to take on Cook Canyon again, and this time I want 150 percent."

The k'winnies collectively groaned.

"We need more soldiers, mate," one of them griped.

"We have more soldiers," Pihanga said. "This is Private DaBigBoom."

The k'winnies looked at DaBigBoom and for a moment their grumbling was silenced.

"Is he a player?" one whispered.

"What was that!" Pihanga said.

The offending k'winny gave an eep. They all shuffled backwards.

"I'm the player," Pihanga said. "I'm the main character. This is my game. I'm the star. Me. Me alone. Pihanga, the Empress of Elegance and Overlord-to-be."

She swung the spear like a golf club and the quavering k'winny vanished up over one of the balconies with a plaintive wail.

"Now we're back down to the same number of soldiers as before, mate," another of the k'winnies muttered, this time quiet enough for Pihanga not to hear.

"Follow me!" Pihanga ordered. "This time we will beat that level."

"She's not really the main character," Fiore whispered to DaBigBoom after Pihanga had marched in the direction of one of the side exits. "It's me." She gave a girlish giggle and followed Pihanga.

Madhouse, DaBigBoom thought, shaking his head as he followed the others.

They walked through a crazy marketplace. Skinny kids with anime-spiky hair sold swords that were far too large and impractical for any normal—or even large—person to wield. DaBigBoom saw the entrance to a tent with a bleeding red cross stitched above the opening. Moans and groans emanated from within. A cute girl in some kind of traditional Japanese dress stood in the entrance and smiled at DaBigBoom. As he walked by he saw she was holding a hacksaw with clumps of hair and flesh stuck to the serrated blade.

They reached a short staircase that led up to a bright blue swirl of light about as big as a door. More computer game physics. DaBigBoom assumed it was some kind of portal that led somewhere else. Standing next to the portal was a gorgeous blonde girl with elf ears sticking out of her long hair. She held a gnarled wooden staff and wore flowing green robes. She looked bored.

Pihanga walked up to the foot of the steps. "Cook Canyon," she said.

"Again?" the blonde girl said.

"We're going to defeat Waldorf this time," Pihanga said.

"You said that last time," the blonde said, "and the time before that, and the time before that, and the thirteen other times before that."

"My k'winny mob has increased in experience," Pihanga said.

"Your k'winny mob is falling to bits," the blonde said.

Pihanga gave her a crafty smile. "Ah, but this time I have a secret weapon," she motioned to DaBigBoom.

The blonde peered at DaBigBoom. For a moment her brow furrowed as though she wasn't quite sure of what she was looking at, and then she spotted the yellow hat and gave a disappointed sigh.

"It's just another k'winny," she said. "You need to recruit some proper monsters with classes. You can't expect to beat the middle levels with only k'winnies."

"K'winnies are cheap and easy to maintain," Pihanga said.

"K'winnies are useless."

The k'winnies quarked and harrumphed their disapproval.

"Do as you're ordered and send us to Cook Canyon," Pihanga said.

The blonde sighed. She waved her staff and the portal flared a brighter blue colour. "As you command, oh great and powerful Overlord . . ." Pihanga walked up the steps and jumped into the swirling blue vortex. ". . . to-never-be," the blonde finished as Pihanga vanished from view.

Fiore and the vampire, Schreck, went next, followed by the battered k'winnies. DaBigBoom considered running off in the opposite direction, but that might mean he'd be stuck in this lunatic role-playing game forever . . . as DaBigBoom.

Fuck it. The quicker he completed it, the quicker he could get the fuck out of here. He walked up the steps.

The blonde looked at him. A puzzled expression was back on her face.

"Hey wait!" she said. "You're the—"

Too late. DaBigBoom had already stepped into the portal.




Jackson in HRPG-World 02



They warped to a rocky location that somehow managed to look cheerful despite being largely desolate. The only plants DaBigBoom saw were the twisted remnants of dead trees.

Not quite dead, as it happened, but not exactly alive in any way DaBigBoom expected. He watched as one of the dead stumps grew spindly arms out of its top and began to shuffle around. Pihanga absent-mindedly booted it into a nearby pool of bright green acid. She took out a telescope and surveyed their objective from behind a boulder.

Before them a wide bridge led to an enormous gate at the entrance of a cartoon-scary castle carved into the high stone wall of a cliff. The gate looked like an enormous mouth and two openings above it looked like burning eyes. It still looked about as scary as a Scooby Doo cartoon.

The oddest thing to DaBigBoom was the ground. It was marked out with squares like a giant chessboard. The pattern covered most of the grounds leading up to the bridge and continued right into the fort. Some of the squares glowed with a strange light and that same glow lit up odd pyramid sculptures scattered throughout the grounds. DaBigBoom thought they must serve some purpose within the game although he didn't have the slightest idea what.

There were guards—more of the strange pointy-eared inhabitants he'd seen walking around back at the castle. They grumbled and fidgeted, but didn't leave the squares they were standing in, even though most of the positions they occupied seemed to serve no strategic purpose.

"Okay, equipment," Pihanga said.

From somewhere, DaBigBoom had no idea where, she pulled out a sack of gear that was bigger than her, Schreck and Fiore combined.

Computer RPG physics, no point in being surprised, DaBigBoom thought.

"You." She beckoned to DaBigBoom. "Time to equip you. The high HP gear I think." There was a gleam in Pihanga's eye DaBigBoom didn't like at all.

She threw him a flak jacket that looked more suited to a cop game. DaBigBoom had no idea what it was doing in a fantasy RPG, but it was armour and DaBigBoom would take any kind of protection. He put it on.

It also wasn't the only jacket as Pihanga passed him a second and then a third jacket largely identical to the first.

"Um, I already have a jacket," DaBigBoom said.

Pihanga ignored him. So did the world. Before he even realised it, he was wearing all three jackets on top of each other. They were uncomfortably warm and DaBigBoom could barely move his arms. How was he supposed to fight like this?

"Perfect," Pihanga said. "Lots of HP."

Once again, DaBigBoom really didn't like the gleam in Pihanga's eye whenever she mentioned 'HP'.

DaBigBoom felt something rather important had been neglected in the equipping process.

"Aren't I supposed to have something to fight with?" he asked.

"Fight?" Pihanga seemed surprised by the question, as if it wasn't really relevant. "Oh, take this."

She rummaged through the sack and came back with a bow so tiny it'd struggle to make even a child's toy. DaBigBoom held the undersized bow in his hands. Now what the fuck was he supposed to do with this?

Pihanga turned her back and went back to observing the fort. She turned around and began to draw lines in the ground. She studied them with wrinkled-brow concentration while Schreck watched and gave the occasional nod of his head. Fiore crouched down and watched Pihanga draw her plans, but didn't contribute anything other than the occasional giggle.

"You got a bum assignment, mate," one of the k'winnies, a real battered specimen, said to DaBigBoom. "She doesn't have the first clue about tactics. She should have hired a warrior, mage and cleric by now. Instead she just keeps throwing us k'winnies into the fray as if it's still the first level. It's hopeless, mate. I'm OldFart," the beat-up k'winnie introduced itself.

"DaBigBoom," DaBigBoom replied and then grimaced as he realised that stupid name had slipped out of his mouth again instead of his real name.

OldFart nodded sympathetically.

He introduced the other k'winnines. "This is Assploder, KwinnyBomb, ShitBlast, Bob—"

"Bob?" DaBigBoom interrupted.

"She hit Enter too quickly on the naming screen, mate," Bob explained, "and she hasn't figured out yet how to rename characters."

"LooserBait," OldFart finished the introductions, pointing to the last k'winny, who was missing an eye.

"So what's the objective?" DaBigBoom asked. If they could complete the mission maybe he could get the fuck out of here.

"Waldorf, mate," OldFart said. "The big pile of blubber over there."

DaBigBoom followed OldFart's malformed limb and saw a gigantic blue thing just inside the entrance. It was a big pile of blubber—Jabba the Hut with a pair of tusks. The thing looked so cumbersome DaBigBoom had no idea how it even moved until he noticed the cord around its midriff that led up to a large balloon with a cartoon cat face on the side of it. DaBigBoom raised an eyebrow.

"What, the walrus?" he said.

"Leopard seal," Fiore corrected. Bored with Pihanga's battle planning, she'd come over to join them. "It's a leopard seal, not a walrus." She grinned.

"So the objective is to storm a fortress and kill a wal . . . leopard seal with a giant balloon tied to its arse?" DaBigBoom queried.

Fiore nodded. "Exciting, isn't it."

DaBigBoom wanted out of this stupid game.

"And you guys are happy with this?" DaBigBoom asked.

"Fuck yeah," Assploder said.

"Waldorf's a cunt," Bob said.

"We want the bastard dead," KwinnyBomb said.

"He kidnaps k'winnies and sells them as toys to children in the human world," LooserBait said.

"That doesn't sound too bad," Fiore said.

The k'winnies stared at the angel with stunned expressions. They obviously regarded being sold to children as a fate worse than death.

"Human children are sweet and adorable," Fiore said. "Especially the boys." She stared off into space. "Delicious, scrumptious, cute young boys." There was a gleam in her eyes that was most un-angelic.

The k'winnies shook their heads. "Pervert," Bob muttered under his breath.

"Tubby isn't the problem," OldFart said. "He's big and he's got a lot of hit points, but none of his attacks does much damage. No, the real problem is her . . . the succubus."

OldFart pointed down to a pathway that ran off to the right of the bridge. It wound between dead trees and under a broken archway. At the end of the path was—

DaBigBoom's mouth dropped open.

Wow.

That was a hottie. A real, blazing hot, totally fuckable hottie. She looked like a porn star or glamour model in a Halloween Devil costume, what little of it there was. She looked a little like another Pihanga, but a Pihanga DaBigBoom didn't want to throttle. There was a whole bunch of other things DaBigBoom would like to do to her instead, most of which were unprintable. Like Pihanga, the succubus had horns, wings and a tail, but unlike Pihanga everything was filled out and looked more . . . mature.

18-rated.

Especially her chest. She was amply filled out in the chest department.

Were those real? They couldn't be real.

If he'd seen breasts like that on a real-life girl with a similarly slender figure, DaBigBoom would have snap-called them as artificial. The succubus was wearing a low-cut baroque bikini top that barely contained them. Her boobs had . . . bounce. She hovered a few inches off the ground, supported by languid flaps of her great bat wings. Her breasts bobbed with each down sweep.

"That's how she gets you, mate," OldFart said. "Hypnotises you with those puppies, and then . . ."

"She does things to you," Looserbait said. He stared at the floor. "Naughty things."

"Uh huh." DaBigBoom wasn't listening. His attention was focused on the way the shiny globes of her tits bounced and jiggled as she floated a few inches off the ground.

"Okay, listen up," Pihanga ordered. "This is the plan. KwinnyBomb, you come with me. We'll take out the guards to the left of the bridge. Schreck and the rest of the k'winny mob will charge the main gate and beat up Waldorf."

That was the plan? Charge? All that drawing in the dirt and that was the best she could come up with. That was a stupid fucking plan, DaBigBoom thought.

"What about the succubus?" Bob asked.

"DaBigBoom will take care of that," Pihanga said, again with the crafty gleam in her eye.

DaBigBoom looked at the succubus again. Or more particularly, at the way her breasts bounced up and down as she floated a few inches above the ground. He was down with that part of the plan.

"His is the second most important role," Pihanga said.

"Because if the succubus gets out of that path she'll cream us all," Bob whispered to DaBigBoom.

"Fiore will go with him," Pihanga continued.

DaBigBoom was still looking at the succubus's bobbing boobs.

"Okay, go!" Pihanga ordered.

She entered the chequerboard at a glowing orange square and moved towards the gate. The guards watched her scamper towards them with bored expressions. They didn't move out of the squares they were standing in. KwinnyBomb, cartwheels spinning, trundled after her. They moved four squares and stopped. Schreck followed next, with the rest of the k'winny mob fanning out behind him.

"This way," Fiore said, making sure DaBigBoom entered the board through the orange square and then pulling him to the right.

She also walked four squares before stopping abruptly. DaBigBoom was about to walk past when she held out an arm and stopped him.

"Wait. We have to wait for our turn to come back around."

Damn stupid computer game rules.

DaBigBoom looked at the succubus. She was really hot. And practically naked. Her hopelessly-skimpy frayed leather bra was matched by an equally skimpy pair of black panties. The tan expanse of her flat stomach was exposed as were most of her luscious thighs. In a perverse attempt to compensate for the acres of skin on display she wore long black gloves that went past her elbows and an equally long pair of kinky black boots that went up past her knees. DaBigBoom supposed baroque stiletto heels were less of an impracticality if the wearer never had to actually walk in them.

The succubus saw them coming and gave DaBigBoom a sultry smile. He smiled back and tipped her a saucy wink. The succubus pouted her full lips and blew DaBigBoom a steamy kiss. She placed hands underneath her considerable breasts and smooshed them together. DaBigBoom gulped.

Take care of her? Yes please.

"Stop flirting with the succubus," Fiore said.

"Why? She's not a hermaphrodite too, is she?" DaBigBoom asked. He looked down at the floating girl's crotch for signs of a tell-tale bulge. All he saw was a rather obvious camel toe that reddened his cheeks.

"No, they're just really . . . skanky," Fiore said.

DaBigBoom was fine with skanky. He looked at the succubus's teasing smile and bouncing tits. Especially this kind of skanky. The succubus stared at him, tossed back her flowing black hair and pulled a series of glamour model poses.

"True love must be pure," Fiore said, "just like my love for Ruhara."

She pulled out a scrap of paper and unfolded it to reveal a picture of a demon boy with a long flowing black cape. Other than the cape the boy was completely naked above the waist and his bare chest was totally exposed. He carried a sword that was bigger than him.

He also looked about twelve years old.

"He's post game content for sure," Fiore said. "We'll defeat him, then he'll join us, then he'll be mine."

She clutched the paper to her flat bosom and her face lit up in a way DaBigBoom thought was slightly disturbing.

"Pervert," he muttered, before turning back to stare at the succubus's bouncing titties.

"It's us again," Fiore said.

She took DaBigBoom's arm and took them four squares closer to the broken archway at the head of the path. Another turn and they'd pass under it and be right before the waiting she-demon. That thought triggered a pleasant little throb in DaBigBoom's groin.

"Launch k'winnies!" Pihanga yelled.

What the?

DaBigBoom turned around in time to see KwinnyBomb flying through the air in the direction of the guards to the left of the bridge.

"Mateeeeeeee!" KwinnyBomb yelled.

He landed on a square between two guards—skinny looking emo kids with pointed ears—and exploded.

The guards held up arms and grimaced. Thirty-four in white numbers floated up above their heads. When the cloud dissipated there was no sign of KwinnyBomb at all. He'd exploded. Like a grenade. Like . . .

. . . a KwinnyBomb.

DaBigBoom thought about the name Pihanga had given him.

He had a bad feeling about this.

Fiore had the build of a slim little teenage girl. Not the build of someone DaBigBoom would have thought capable of plucking him up off the ground and lifting him right above their head.

"Hey wait," he said.

Fiore didn't. She stretched her arms back and launched him the direction of the succubus with all the force she could muster.

Fuuuuck, DaBigBoom thought as he flew over the broken archway. The succubus already had her hands up in front of her face. Fiore had her eyes screwed shut and fingers in her ears.

DaBigBoom hit the ground at the feet of the succubus with a krump.

He didn't explode.

This seemed to take everyone by surprise.

DaBigBoom awkwardly picked himself back up. The succubus floated in front of him. Her smile and the seductive gleam in her eyes—more lustful even than Fiore's for her underage pin-up—had returned to her face.

"Um . . . hi," DaBigBoom said.

"Hi," the succubus replied. She pushed out her considerable chest.

Now what? DaBigBoom looked over to Pihanga. She was motioning Fiore to move towards a guard on the right-hand side of the bridge. She turned to DaBigBoom and pointed in the direction of the succubus.

DaBigBoom held up his child-sized bow. The stupid thing had snapped in half when he'd landed on it.

Pihanga didn't care. She furiously jabbed her finger in the direction of the succubus. Her orders given she turned her attentions back to the guards still standing after she'd thrown KwinnyBomb at them.

DaBigBoom turned back to the succubus and gave an embarrassed shrug. She smiled and giggled. Her ample bosom jiggled with her laughter. She didn't seem that bad, DaBigBoom thought.

"We could always just watch the others get on with it," he suggested. "We don't have to get involved."

"I'm Fifi," the succubus said. "Who might you be?"

"DaBigBoom," DaBigBoom said, cursing the syllables as they slipped out of his mouth. "It's not my real name," he hastily added.

"Those jackets look uncomfortably hot," Fifi said.

She stepped up to the edge of her square. DaBigBoom jolted backwards as he felt something pliant and flexible reach up between his legs. Her tail. Unlike Pihanga's, the end of Fifi's tail swelled out into a bulbous structure that resembled a jar. The end opened out into three flexible and triangular flanges.

"You'd be much more comfortable with less . . . covering," Fifi said. The nuance didn't escape DaBigBoom.

"It is a little hot," he said. "What about you?"

"I'm extremely hot," the succubus said.

DaBigBoom wasn't about to argue with that.

Pink sparks crackled around the flanges of her tail. It started to glow like it was covered in St. Elmo's fire.

Oh, she meant that kind of hot. DaBigBoom wasn't sure he liked that kind of hot.

Fifi held her tail like a rifle with the bulbous tip pointing at DaBigBoom. A fleshy orifice yawned open at the end. The tail vibrated, the bulbous end swelled and it spat a glob of sparkling pink energy at DaBigBoom.

He was flung backwards by the impact.

Or would have been. Any backward motion would have sent him out of the square he was currently in and that didn't appear to be allowed by the physics of the game world. Instead, he did a kind of cartoon back flip on the spot.

Once again DaBigBoom was lying on his back and watching numbers float up into the darkness. At least this time it was a small number—a solitary four. Was that all? He felt considerably more beat up than someone who'd only lost four hit points. He picked himself back up.

"Mmm," Fifi said. She looked down his body and smiled appreciatively.

He looked down and saw why. His clothes were fried, at least the ones around his crotch. The front of his trousers and the underpants beneath were gone, as was most of the bottom of his plain T-shirt. His exposed skin was marred with little smudges of black ash. None of his three jackets had lost so much as a stitch.

"Um . . ." DaBigBoom said, realising he was showing his todger off to a girl, an extremely hot girl. He knew she was a devil and made out of pixels besides, but that didn't stop his face flaring bright red in embarrassment.

"Tut tut," Fifi said. "You should be more careful about exposing your weak point like that."

Weak point?

Fifi did a graceful pirouette on the spot and boom-boomed a hip at him, revealing a luscious peach of an arse. DaBigBoom was so busy looking at it he didn't notice her tail whip around and plunge into his crotch like a striking snake.

He doubled up. Not because she'd hit him with any force, but in the automatic male response to objects being flung at his unprotected goolies.

His evasion attempt failed. The slimy flanges of her tail left sticky trails across his skin. It was rooting around in his crotch for something.

"Where are you?" Fifi said.

The snuffling orifice at the end of her fleshy tail found the end of his cock.

Oh no.

"Ah, there you are," Fifi said.

The bulbous tip of her tail expanded. The end of DaBigBoom's penis was sucked into the moist orifice.

No, no, no! he thought with horror.

He tried to pull away, but her tail had already vacuum-sealed itself to his groin. Its fleshy flanges were stuck fast to his skin and his todger—his lovely todger!—was all the way inside the bulbous jar at the end of it.

Fifi giggled at his futile attempts to escape her tail. "I have you now."

The bulbous end swelled up and down like bellows. DaBigBoom doubled up again, but this time it was from unexpected pleasure.

Huh, that felt . . . pretty good.

The inside of her tail was slimy, but it was the good kind of slimy—moist, warm, tight, soft. Back in the real world Jackson wasn't exactly the most sociable, but he wasn't a complete stranger to sex, although he'd never experienced it without a condom. Was this what unprotected sex felt like? Her soft fleshy walls and warm juices squished around his member.

The bulbous jar slowly pulsed. Blood raced to DaBigBoom's groin and his hard-on expanded within her tail until it was pushing back at the fleshy tissue wrapped all around him.

Fifi gave her sexy arse a little wiggle. DaBigBoom heard a strange gurgling sound. He didn't have to ponder it for long before the bulbous end of her tail swelled up and filled with a warm, silky liquid. The jar contracted and DaBigBoom gasped as he felt warm fluids rush back and forth around his shaft. Her soft flesh pressed up all around his cock and gave it a teasing little tug.

What the hell kind of attack was this? DaBigBoom looked at the sultry form of the succubus. He could understand horny and frustrated game artists sneaking in a bit of fetish-bait for the lulz, but this was way beyond that. It felt like she was blowing him with her tail and that kind of shit only happened in the cheap and nasty hentai games.

Fifi's full lips parted in a sexy pout. Her heavy breasts had fallen out of her skimpy bra. Her left hand was already at her nipple and pawing her soft pink flesh. Her other hand was down between her legs and rubbing her pussy through the thin black material of her panties.

Okay, they were definitely no longer in a children's game, or in any game that could be stocked in a normal high-street store.




Jackson in HRPG-World 02



Again.

What was it with this crazy fucked-up world?

Not that DaBigBoom was complaining. The inside of her tail felt fucking incredible around his cock.

Fifi's cheeks reddened. She closed her eyes and gave a series of little sexy gasps. The bulbous organ at the end of her tail began to pulsate faster and faster.

Oh fuck.

DaBigBoom closed his eyes and gave a little moan of his own. Her tail pulsed and sucked on his cock. He didn't know what she was doing in there, but he definitely didn't want her to stop. Her slick walls rubbed up and down his shaft, sliding on a sensual layer of warm, silky liquid. Soft flesh contracted and gently pumped his swollen glans. Like a kiss.

Fifi's gasps grew louder and came more frequently. The pulsations of her tail speeded up to match. DaBigBoom was no longer doubled up but instead bent back the other way, teetering on unsteady legs with his crotch thrust out before him while Fifi's tail-full-of-every-known-hooker's-trick continued to work over his helpless manhood.

"Yes, yes, yes!" she squealed in delight.

Oh fuck. DaBigBoom couldn't hold on any longer. His hips jerked forwards, driving him deeper into the moist, sticky flesh of her pulsing tail pot. His erection swelled and he ejaculated a tension-flattening glob of spunk right into her tail.

Fifi gave a long, contented sigh. Her tail continued to move around DaBigBoom's cock, the motions slower and more deliberate now. She sucked on his spurting penis, gulped down his ejaculate and kept sucking until DaBigBoom's pipes were well and truly drained. Then her tail detached with a wet shlup.

DaBigBoom rocked on his feet. His knees, his whole body felt like a wobbly plate of jelly. A ghostly red heart blossomed in the air between them, before floating up into the darkness.

Aw, how sweet, DaBigBoom thought.

Then he noticed the number, forty-four, floating up from him.

Fuck, it had been an attack after all. It had bashed forty-four off his unknown number of hit points.

It was worse than that.

The same number, but in green rather than white, was floating above Fifi's head.

Fuck, the cheeky minx had sucked forty-four points right out of him and added it to her own hit points.

More importantly, DaBigBoom wondered how the fuck he was supposed to defeat her if every attack restored that much of her health. His crappy little broken bow certainly wasn't going to cut it.

"Delicious," Fifi said, running a tongue around her sensual red lips. She opened her eyes. "Oh, you're still alive. How wonderful."

DaBigBoom suspected her happiness at his still being alive was because it meant she could attack him again rather than any concern for his wellbeing.

"Hmm, I wonder."

Fifi pulled down and stepped out of her panties. The game had definitely swerved off into X-rated territory. The hairless folds of her pussy were clearly visible to DaBigBoom, and anyone else that happened to be looking.

"Did they tell you how these coloured squares work?"

Fifi motioned to the ground around them. Most of the ground was grey apart from some squares that glowed with red, blue, green or yellow light.

"Nope. It never came up," DaBigBoom said.

"How silly." Fifi tsked. "How can anyone plan strategy without accounting for the Terra effect squares. Oh well. You see, the different colours grant different abilities. Some are negative—they lower attack or inflict damage. Others have positive effects."

Stepping elegantly on her stiletto high heels, Fifi walked around him until she was standing on the red square adjacent to his.

"Now this square grants me two additional attacks," Fifi said. Her eyes gleamed with lust.

Uh oh, DaBigBoom thought.

"Mmm, and I have just the attack I'd like to triple up on," Fifi said.

She reached in and pulled DaBigBoom right to the boundary between their squares, close enough for her to embrace him if she wished.

DaBigBoom hoped his remaining life points were considerably higher than forty-four.

Fifi put her arms around DaBigBoom's neck. Her large black bat wings folded around him like a cape. His nostrils were filled with the musky perfume of her body. She stared into his eyes. Hers were bright and gleaming with lust.

"What's the matter?" she asked with a disarming smile.

DaBigBoom thought of the forty-four floating up into the sky.

"I was wondering if we could, you know, skip the whole attack thing," he said.

Fifi was close enough for her cute little button nose to brush against his. She smiled and shook her head.

"It's a really . . . naughty attack," she said. "You'll love it."

Her soft cheek rubbed against DaBigBoom's.

"Especially when I triple it," she whispered in his ear.

Her hands slipped down his back and she pulled their bodies together in a close embrace. Her wings tugged against his back like soft latex. He felt the soft press of her boobs against his chest. The erect points of her nipples caught on the fabric of his T-shirt.

"You're different," Fifi whispered in his ear. "There's a reality about you the others don't have."

The spicy musk of her body, the heat, was overpowering. She nibbled on his earlobe before leaving a trail of soft kisses along his cheek. Their lips met in a passionate kiss. DaBigBoom was too lost to notice as her hands moved further down and loosened the remnants of his trousers until they slid down and fell to his ankles in a crumpled pile. DaBigBoom's erection hadn't even had a chance to subside. Fifi rubbed her naked crotch against him and he trembled as the hard staff of his cock slid along the folds of her sex. She was already wet.

"And you're mature enough to truly appreciate my special . . . talents," Fifi paused the kiss to whisper.

She stared at him with bedroom eyes. She slipped a foot out of her thigh-length heels and rubbed it down the outside of DaBigBoom's thigh.

Fuck, she was hot—incredible. Jackson might fantasize about girls like this in the real world, but if one had thrown themselves into his arms like this he'd have assumed they were drunk, or tripping out. He peered down at the perfect pink globes of her boobs, boobs that were even now rubbing against his chest. So hot. DaBigBoom felt hot too, boiling. Given the cartoon quality of most of the setting, he was surprised steam wasn't rushing out of his ears. Who cared she was only pixels when they felt as good as this.

"See, I told you we didn't need to mess around with all that fighting malarkey," DaBigBoom said.

Fifi tipped her head back and laughed. "Silly boy, I'm a succubus. Sex is my attack."

Now that really put DaBigBoom in a quandary. His body was on fire. He really really wanted to have sex with Fifi. But if sex was her attack, how much damage would it do? And did he have enough hit points left to withstand that damage?

Fifi kissed him again.

Fuck it. It was a risk worth taking.

He put his arms around her and clutched the soft flesh of her ass cheeks. Fifi giggled and did the same back to him. He jolted with a shiver as her bulbous-ended tail curled up between his legs and left a trail of sticky kisses up the inside of his thigh. He moved his legs further apart to give her tail easier access. She rewarded him by tickling down his perineum and giving one of his testicles a pleasant little suck with her tail orifice.

Fifi unwrapped her wings from around DaBigBoom. She set her body hovering again with languid flaps. Now both of her feet were sliding up and down the outside of his legs. Her hands gripped the sides of his body and she moaned as his hard-on slid along the moist crevice of her sex.

"Want me to put it in?" DaBigBoom asked, unable to hide his enthusiasm.

Fifi smiled at him in amusement. "You want to suicide?"

Er, when you put it that way, not really, DaBigBoom thought. What was he doing? Was it really a good idea to stay in the arms of a devil woman like this?

Fifi crossed her legs behind DaBigBoom. Her sex parted like the lips of a mouth. Glistening strands of mucus formed threads between her plush labia. She gobbled up the swollen head of his cock and slid slowly—really slowly—down his shaft until her moist labia were kissing his groin.

Yep. Good idea. Definitely a good idea.

DaBigBoom closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of his manhood sliding up a moist tunnel with soft—super soft—fleshy walls. They pressed around him and undulated with gentle pulses. Fifi added to the sensation by wriggling in his lap.

Now this was definitely unprotected sex.

Normally, DaBigBoom would have been terrified of attempting a sexual position like this for fear of tipping the girl over and bouncing her skull off the floor. Girls didn't normally have wings. Fifi might have had both feet off the ground and her legs wrapped around him, but she was definitely the one in control here. All DaBigBoom could do was stand braced with his feet apart while she flapped her midnight-black bat wings and moved her body against him like a wave.

Up, down, her hips moved. Up, down; DaBigBoom sighed as his erection moved inside a moist, lubricated channel of heavenly soft flesh. Fifi gave her own sighs as her hips met his with a lewd squelch. Her juices bubbled out and dribbled down the insides of his thighs. He felt the lascivious suction of her sex as each downward stroke of her wings took her hips up to the peak of the next stroke.

"I can take triple of this," DaBigBoom said.

"Mmm, that's good to hear," Fifi said, "then let's begin."

Begin? Weren't they already beginning?

Her hips came back down and this time DaBigBoom felt his cock plunge into something soft, warm and sinful. Sinful. That was the best word for it. Like he'd just plunged into a cushion of congealed sin. It puffed up inside her and smothered the swollen tip of his cock. A pleasant little tickle crawled across his engorged glans. Fifi pressed downwards and that warm something engulfed the whole of his member, right to the root.

Fuck. He felt like his dick was soaking in every dirty little immoral thought given physical form, every filthy little perverted desire.

"Oh yes," Fifi sighed.

A gentle little rippling squeeze ran along the length of DaBigBoom's shaft from the root to the tip. It felt like a soft little tug from a hand entirely made out of honey. DaBigBoom lasted about as long as every perpetually horny teen presented with the real thing for the first time. At least he didn't feel guilty this time.

"Coming," he said with a grunt.

He squeezed her ass between his hands and pressed his hips forward. A column of semen rushed up his shaft and erupted into the soft sticky tissue enveloping his twitching manhood. It absorbed his seed like a sponge, like a black hole absorbing light. The sinful organ wriggled and pulsed leisurely around DaBigBoom's swollen penis while Fifi moaned in delight. DaBigBoom's cock responded with a series of slow, steady throbs as he emptied his balls into her devilish body.

"That was one," Fifi said with a smile.

A ghostly red heart bloomed in the air between them and floated upwards into the sky on a spray of smaller spinning red hearts. One hundred and forty appeared above her head in green numerals.

That was one? DaBigBoom thought. His knees were trembling and his fringe was wet with perspiration.

Fifi relaxed her legs and shifted position. She leant forward and let a flap of her wings pull their conjoined hips apart. DaBigBoom's cock was released from the cushion of super-soft sinful tissue. She nearly let him slide all the way out before her pliable labia squeezed down around the mushroom head of his cock, keeping it inside her heat.

The bulbous tip of her tail pressed up between his arse cheeks. The flanges stuck to his buttocks. The orifice at the centre of her tail nudged against and began to suck on his anus in a sensation that was unexpected but surprisingly pleasant.

Fifi rubbed the tip of her nose against DaBigBoom's. "Two," she said.

Her legs folded tightly around his waist. She slid back down his pole and once again DaBigBoom was pushing up against that moist, perversely pliable bulge of tissue at the back of her vagina. His cock never even had a chance to go down before its head was wrapped in a clingy membrane that drew him back into a glob of congealed depravity. Fifi closed her eyes and pulled in her taut midriff. She sucked.

Forbidden pleasures whispered up DaBigBoom's shaft. His body tensed and he groaned in pleasure as he erupted again. Once again she thoroughly absorbed his issue. The black hole pull of her sex extended down his urethra and into his crotch until DaBigBoom was no longer sure if he was pumping his seed into her, or she pumping it out of him.

Another spectral red heart bloomed in the air between them. A +1 floated up into the sky together with two lots of 220, one green and one white.

That sounded like a lot, DaBigBoom thought. It felt like a lot. His breath came out in ragged gasps. Sweat ran down his body and stained the inside of his jackets. His hair was a soaking mop. Wasn't he supposed to be a level one k'winny or something? How come he had so many HP?

Fifi shifted her body again. Her internal cushion released DaBigBoom's cock, but this time not so far. He was still deep inside her, his still-engorged cock pressing lightly against the pliant membrane of the mysterious organ at the end of her pussy.

"Are you okay there?" she asked. Her voice was all light and breezy as if this was just a bit of fun rather than a series of brutal bashes to DaBigBoom's HP total.

"I'd be enjoying it a lot more if it didn't take so much out of me," DaBigBoom panted.

"Oh quit complaining," Fifi said. "You've still got plenty to give."

Her tail wormed up against his ass. The orifice kissed and sucked on his sphincter in a way that sent shivers of pleasure running up his spine.

Then DaBigBoom heard a crackle. Like static electricity. The flanges of her tail grew warm—hot—against his soft ass cheeks.

DaBigBoom's eyes widened.

Fifi laughed at his expression.

"I'm not going to blast you," she said. "That would be gross."

DaBigBoom was trying not to picture several thousand volts of electricity jolting up into his ass, or imagine what that would do to his colon.

"Men are such fragile little things when it comes to sex. A couple of pops and you're done. Totally unacceptable. I still have an attack left."

Her tail orifice sucked his anus open. The bulbous tip of her tail contracted. A warm crackle of energy zinged up his rectal wall and enveloped his prostate gland in a warm glow.

"There, a little help for your prostate," Fifi said.

DaBigBoom's mouth fell open. His cock, which had just started to soften, twitched back to aching fullness and nudged up against the sticky trap at the base of Fifi's vagina.

"Three," Fifi said.

Back down she came, and back into that soft bubble of concentrated degeneracy DaBigBoom plunged. It felt like the moist organ was whispering indecent suggestions right to his cells, murmurings he could not resist.

Fifi took her hands off DaBigBoom's sides and brought them back to her own body. She sighed and massaged her heavy boobs as they bobbed back and forth with each thrust of her body. He wasn't even sure who was supporting who now. Her body tugged and pushed him while her wings flapped harder and faster, working to keep both of them upright.

DaBigBoom had thought he had nothing left. Fifi had other ideas. Her tail continued to pulse pleasant little crackles of energy into DaBigBoom until his prostate—then his balls—felt like they were lit up and glowing.

"Oh yes!" Fifi cried.

Her sex clenched around him, smooshing that soft sinful something against his over-sensitised penis. DaBigBoom groaned and let fly with the biggest ejaculation of the three. Fifi drew the torrents of cum from his body and absorbed it all.

Then she released him. Her tail detached from his ass, her legs uncrossed from behind his buttocks and her vagina dilated. DaBigBoom toppled backwards and fell flat on his back.

Fifi continued to hover for a few moments before elegantly landing back on her naked feet.

"Mmm, that was most enjoyable," she said to no one in particular.

DaBigBoom gave a loud groan. How could something that felt so good leave him feeling so shit. He looked up. Two 400s, a +2 and another stupid red heart. That must be it. She'd knocked him out, incapacitated him, or whatever this game treated zero HP as.

Fifi looked down at him and her big eyes widened in surprise.

"You're still going?"

DaBigBoom could just about move his arms and legs. He wasn't sure that qualified as still going.

"How intriguing," Fifi said. Her lips turned up in a wicked smile.

DaBigBoom wasn't so sure he liked that smile. He pulled up his knees and started to get back to his feet. He was unsteady, like a punch-drunk boxer in the tenth round.

Fifi held her tail in her arms like a rifle again. DaBigBoom liked that even less. The bulbous end swelled up as if inhaling a deep breath and then puffed out a thick cloud of sparkling pink dust and shimmering red hearts. DaBigBoom was enveloped. He breathed in and inhaled a powerful, sultry perfume that smelt like something an expensive escort would wear when entertaining exclusive clientele. The scent set his heart racing and caused his brain to throb with sexual excitement.

It also made his arms and legs feel like sacks of wet cement.

"Don't get up," Fifi said with a smile.

Not that it was needed. DaBigBoom was already falling back to the floor. The cloud wrapped around him like a comfortable duvet. Ephemeral hearts collided with his skin and popped like wet kisses. The dust covered him and set pleasure receptors sparking all across his body.

"I surrender," DaBigBoom said. "I give in. You've beaten me." Even his dick had decided it'd had enough.

"I thought I had," Fifi said, "And yet you're still here on the game board. Most intriguing."

She grabbed his ankles and pulled his body off the rocky path and onto the softer dirt or ash making up the verge. DaBigBoom noticed he was now lying at the intersection of four board squares with Fifi lying on her elbow next to him.

"What about the game rules?" he asked. "Shouldn't we be staying within our own squares?"

"Rules, feh," Fifi said dismissively. "I'm more interested in you."

She tip-toed up his exposed chest on long fingernails and flicked the bottom of DaBigBoom's chin.

"You're clearly not a k'winny, but what are you? Even with the stat boost from these," she tugged one of the three jackets he was still wearing, "you still have far too many HP for any character class of your level."

"I'm DaBigBoom."

For once he was glad that stupid word fell out of his mouth rather than his real name. A cold calculating spark had appeared at the heart of her big bright eyes. DaBigBoom had a disconcerting feeling the over-sexed demonic ditz with a magical tail was just a costume and now he was glimpsing the actress beneath.

"That's the name Pihanga gave you. She behaves as though she's the main character, the player, but she's just another piece in this game. Her role is to attempt to usurp the starring role for comedic effect. That's all."

Fifi's long nails tickled lightly around his nipple. They looked a little too pointed and sharp for DaBigBoom to be entirely comfortable with them being where they were.

"You, however, are something entirely different."

DaBigBoom didn't need to be told that. He was human. Real. Everything apart from him was a collection of pixels—nothing more than 1s and 0s within the memory of a computer.

At least that's what he'd thought.

Fifi's hand, her fingers tipped with those wickedly sharp nails, tickled down to DaBigBoom's crotch.




Jackson in HRPG-World 02



"I'm DaBigBoom," he blurted out. Again getting the word wrong.

DaBigBoom's penis lay on a nest of pubic hair matted down with a combination of both his and the succubus's sexual fluids. Like all dicks after sex, it looked sorry for itself. Fifi placed a thumb and forefinger around his flaccid manhood and began to rub up and down in an attempt to bring his sex back to life. DaBigBoom never would have thought he'd be unable to get erect in the presence of a hot girl until he was at least ninety-five, and definitely never would have thought that inability would make him feel relieved.

"Tsk, males," Fifi said. "No stamina for sex at all."

Fifi's tail curled over his prone body. The three triangular flanges opened out to reveal the puckered orifice at the heart of the jar-like structure. Like a gun to his head, was DaBigBoom's uncomfortable thought.

"That's not going to help," he said. "It's making me nervous. And nerves are kryptonite to erections."

The bulbous jar at the end of her tail expanded and then contracted to whoosh a cloud of pink gas into his face. His head was completely enveloped. The strong scent—a melange of sleazy perfume, sexual perspiration and the forbidden musk between a woman's thighs—overwhelmed his senses. His head fell back and his brain throbbed. Countless memories of illicitly-watched porn films and eager fumbles with old girlfriends poured forth. Pornographic images—slutty eyes, long silky hair, bulging boobs, lasciviously long legs and vaginas held agape—flooded his eyeballs in a slick of sexual depravity. His ears were plugged with sighs of passion and the quiet squelches of coupling bodies. And the smell—it was like Fifi was sitting right on top of his face, her wet cunt dripping juice onto him.

"Aphrodisiac, keyed directly to your physiology," Fifi said. "We succubi never accept 'No'."

The pleasurable throbs passed down DaBigBoom's spine and collected in his balls. There they grew in strength and frequency. Blood stampeded back down to his groin.

"Much better," Fifi said.

Her tail contracted again and puffed another cloud of sensual odours into DaBigBoom's face. It encompassed his head and this time he inhaled eagerly, lost in his appreciation of the exciting fragrances.

"And now with a little encouragement . . ."

DaBigBoom's cock started to rise in Fifi's hand. Through a pink haze he watched as she bent over and pressed her considerable boobs together around his swelling erection. Nestled between her warm and soft pillows, his cock quickly swelled back to a hardness that tugged at his crotch and caused his balls to ache. Fifi dipped her head down between her cleavage and lapped up a droplet of pre-cum from the tip of his penis with her tongue.

"Much much better," she said.

The cloud of perfume dissipated and DaBigBoom recovered enough of his senses to realise Fifi was now lying alongside him. The soft bulges of her breasts rested against his side. One of her legs was crossed over his. One arm was slid underneath his neck while the fingernails of her other hand twiddled with his chest hair. His erection stuck up like a pole. The fleshy bulge at the end of Fifi's tail hovered above it. The orifice at the end opened out and a little stream of slimy lubricant drooled down onto his lap.

"Now where were we?" Fifi asked. Her hand caressed the back of DaBigBoom's neck. She stared at him, her eyes bright. And hard. Like precious stones. "Oh yes. Who are you, really?"

DaBigBoom tried again to tell her his real name. "I'm Da—"

Her tail came down and took in his whole length with a wet schlub. Jackson twitched as his cock was once again sheathed in soft, pliable flesh. The tail attached itself to his groin and began to pulse and suck obscenely. Warm juices were exuded over his helpless member and lascivious flesh wriggled up and down his shaft. He moaned and writhed as Fifi expertly used her tail to suck him up through higher planes of pleasure.

"The name isn't important. It's just a label."

Her moist eyes seemed to expand large enough to swallow him whole. The tail worked up and down like a piston, making lewd squelches as it sucked and squeezed him into paroxysms of ecstasy. His hips were already responding with sympathetic twitches.

"Tell me who you are and how you came to be here," Fifi asked, light yet irresistible.

"I don't know," Jackson moaned. He writhed in pleasure as her tail continued to pleasure him. "I was playing a game, a computer game, and I got sucked in. I think. I can't remember exactly. All I know was one moment I was living a normal life in the real world and the next I was in the game. Not just this game. Other games too."

Fifi's tail slowed down and began to gently pulsate around his cock, teasing him with soft, insistent tugs. She rubbed her leg against his. A gurgling sound travelled down her tail and Jackson shivered as his cock was flooded with a slithery, licentious liquid. The bulbous jar massaged it into the stretched skin of his erection with lewd pulses.

"I play them," he continued. "I thought if I completed the game I'd get back to the real world, but it doesn't happen. I keep getting moved on from game to game before I can get near the end."

"Fascinating," Fifi said.

Jackson groaned. Her tail had sucked him to orgasm. His muscles bunched and spasmed as he sprayed cum right up into the cloying grip of her tail.

"A gamer from the human world, the real one. And not just an avatar, here in the flesh. How can that be?"

She leaned over and pressed her soft lips against his in a kiss. Jackson came again. Or maybe it was a continuation of the last orgasm. The succubus had him completely in the palm of her hand. She reinforced the point by cupping his overworked balls in her hand and tickling the flesh behind with the points of her nails.

"No wonder you taste so delectable," Fifi said with a contented sigh.

Jackson was starting to get afraid. A steady stream of single digit numbers floated up from his body as her tail milked semen from him. That didn't concern him so much. It was part of the game. Pixels. It was what the succubus was doing to him and how it made him feel inside that was worrying him. He felt weird—tugged about and twisted around.

"Please," Jackson said. "I just want to get out and get back home."

Pink sparks crackled around the end of her tail. Jackson felt it grow warm around his cock, but pleasantly so. Electricity sparkled across Jackson's nerve endings. His cock stayed hard and throbbing, eager to disgorge another load. Fifi continued to squeeze and suck on him with her tail.

"Who welcomed . . ."

She paused while Jackson bucked and thrashed in the throes of another orgasm.

"Who welcomed you to the game? The first one?" she asked.

Her tail continued to pulse with slow throbs.

"Welcome? No one, I think," Jackson said. The inside of his innermost jacket was soaked with sweat.

"Curiouser and curiouser," Fifi said. "There are rules. Someone should have been there to meet you and give you your quest. A gamer must always have a quest. Oh well."

Numbers continued to stream up into the sky. Jackson screwed up his eyes as the channel within her tail contracted around him. Soft flesh squeezed up against his swollen glans in a wet kiss. The bulb squeezed right down, preparing for one last, final suck.

A loud cheer went up from the direction of the castle. Fifi lifted her head, glanced over and tsked.

"That fat pile of blubber always was a most unimpressive boss," she said.

Her tail detached from him with a noisy wet squelch. Sickly white streams of cum dribbled down his shaft for a few moments before the flow dried up.

"Pihanga's—your—forces have won this level. This battle is over."

She stood up. She was about to turn and walk away when she looked down at DaBigBoom's jackets and mmmed. She reached down, pulled the outermost one off him and tried it on. It was blue with yellow trim, with broad shoulders and long like a cape. It looked good on her, which was stating the obvious; her supernatural sexiness meant she could wear anything and make it look good.

"Wait," he called out as she was about to leave. "What's this quest I'm supposed to complete? Where—how—do I find it?"

Fifi shrugged. "I'm sure it will become apparent. These things usually do."

Her hair changed colour. Violet flowed out from her scalp and down her silky long hair, washing the black away. Her skin lightened in colour and a spiralling black tattoo blossomed on the left side of her body like twisted ivy. She struck a sexy pose for DaBigBoom.

"It's been most enjoyable, but I'm needed in another game."

The sexiness of her body was breathtaking. DaBigBoom felt like he'd just gone thirty rounds with Lennox Lewis, but a glance from her sultry eyes, a glimpse of the creamy white bulges underneath her jacket, the hairless folds of her sex, and his body wanted to do it all over again. She knew it and her eyes glittered with amusement. The orifice at the end of her tail dilated. DaBigBoom thought it was winking at him.

"It's a hentai game," Fifi said, her eyes lighting up with lust. "If I beat the hero I get to do whatever I want to him."

And this wasn't a hentai game? DaBigBoom thought. He looked down at the slimy mess of his crotch. Sure seemed perverted enough.

"Maybe it'll be you," she giggled.

She put a hand to her lips and blew him a kiss that took the form of a sparkly red heart. It floated through the air and burst against his skin with a sound like silvery bells.

A 1 appeared above DaBigBoom's head. He popped and vanished from the game board in a puff of smoke.

* * * *

DaBigBoom opened his eyes. Three faces were looking down at him. Pihanga and Fiore were already familiar to him. The third wasn't as familiar, but DaBigBoom remembered seeing her outside the hospital tent back at the castle. She smiled and looked down at him with wide blue eyes that held a smidgeon too much crazy for DaBigBoom's comfort.

"Good as new," the girl with long black hair and unsettling eyes said.

"We won," Fiore said. "You held off the succubus long enough for us to kick Wally's flabby ass."

"In recognition I hereby promote you to the rank of sergeant," Pihanga said. "Now get out of bed and follow me. We've the next level to complete."

"Ahem," the girl—DaBigBoom assumed doctor or nurse despite her wearing a costume that looked more suited to a shrine maiden from Medieval Japan—said. She held out a hand.

Pihanga tossed her a coin.

The girl looked down at the single coin in her palm and frowned. "Hey. Resurrection and full HP restore. This isn't enough."

Pihanga pointed to DaBigBoom's yellow baseball cap. "K'winny," she said.

The girl looked dubiously at DaBigBoom but didn't push it further. DaBigBoom shrugged apologetically and followed Pihanga and Fiore out of the hospital.



Jackson in HRPG-World 03



I

"Jakasan."

Mostly asleep, Ian Jackson wasn't sure if the feminine voice was coming from the waking world or his dreams.

"Ian Jakasan."

"Fuck off," Jackson said. He tried to bury his head deeper into his pillow.

A lightning bolt came out of the blue and grounded through Jackson's dozing form. He jumped about a foot off the mattress. His sheets slipped off his convulsing form. His hair stood on end and his teeth clenched together so hard they would have bitten off the end of his tongue had it not already been turned back on itself like a slug dipped in salt.

It also woke him up.

After his body stopped twitching uncontrollably he took stock of his surroundings. It wasn't the bed he'd gone to sleep in. It looked similar, but this was a different plain little bed in a different plain little bedroom. It had a single bookcase and single wardrobe, same as the plain little bedroom he'd fallen asleep in, but they were in different positions. Like the other bedroom, the room looked a prop department's idea of what a plain little peasant's bedroom should look like rather than a room someone actually lived in. That was because it wasn't real. It was part of a computer game and Jackson was stuck inside it.

There was an angel floating at the foot of his bed. She had massive tits.

She smiled beatifically at Jackson like a mother to her brainless brat. She might have had a kind, maternal face, but the rest of her body was one hundred percent MILF, with the emphasis on the F. Her white dress was slinky rather than saintly. It hugged her shapely figure like a second skin and a split down the sides exposed the creamy-white flesh of her thighs. A pendant with a large red stone drew attention to her neck and the deep creamy valley of her cleavage beneath it.

Doubtless the Bible Belt would not approve of this depiction of an angel. Jackson supposed it could have been worse. At least she wasn't blindfolded and tied up with bondage chains.

Jackson was too busy ogling her babelicious figure to notice she'd opened her mouth and was speaking to him. Not that it mattered. He couldn't understand a word she was saying.

This was a first. Before, it hadn't mattered where Jackson had been or who he'd talked to, everyone had spoken English back at him. Was this some kind of glitch or bug?

"I don't understand," he said to the angel in white.

She paused and asked him what he guessed was a question from the intonation of her voice. Jackson shrugged. He hadn't understood that either.

The angel nodded and then carried on with her spiel in a language that was incomprehensible to Jackson.

Not carry on, repeat, he realized. He recognized some words. It sounded a lot like the same speech she'd tried to give him earlier.

"I don't understand," Jackson interrupted, growing frustrated.

The angel paused and asked him another, or even the same, question. Jackson didn't understand, so he shrugged again. This time he was sure the angel was repeating the same speech right from the beginning.

Stupid game. It must have got stuck on the wrong language.

This time when the angel asked the question again he smiled brightly and nodded. If he didn't the angel would just keep repeating the same piece over and over. Besides, he didn't need to understand what she was saying, it was the same usual shit every JRPG started with.

I, angel of the giant mammaries, have chosen you to save the world/princess from the evil dragon/sorcerer/demon king. You, of all the stupid-haired kids with unfeasibly large swords, are the most likely to complete this arduous quest despite currently being a level one weakling who'd immediately expire if the wild dogs roaming around the second village so much as sneezed on you. Now go, achieve your destiny, slaughter all the wildlife between here and the final castle while amassing enough to gold to crash the economies of every kingdom in the land. You will, of course, be able to carry this gold—all of it—around in your pockets.

As she spoke Jackson's gaze dropped to the level of her cleavage and stayed there. He wouldn't have minded putting his hands on those and giving them a good squeeze. Did wanting to squeeze the tits of an angel automatically doom him to hell?

Nah. She wasn't real. She was just pixels, same as everything else around here.

Finally, her speech given, the angel faded away and Jackson was able to get back to sleep. He wasn't out for long before a commotion outside woke him up.

Good morning, this is the alarm call for your tutorial quest.

He wondered what would happen if he stuffed a pillow over his ears and ignored it. No, he couldn't risk it. It might trigger some kind of non-standard game over that left him trapped here for eternity.

Swearing, Jackson got out of bed and got dressed. He found an impressive-looking sword that must be shit because it was his starting weapon and all starting weapons were shit.

At least there were no NPC parents waiting in the kitchen to bore him with their single line of encouragement repeated over and over. That meant he must be the poor little orphan destined to save the entire kingdom or some other shit like that. It also meant this shitty little hovel was his alone. Nothing a good bulldozer couldn't fix.

Outside, the inhabitants of Ye Olde Little Rustic Starting Village were running around and screaming their heads off as if the sky was falling down on top of them. They were also screaming the same gibberish language Jackson couldn't understand.

A blessing. At least he didn't need to worry about talking to each and every one of them on the off chance one of them had that vital piece of information he needed to find out. Smiling, he gave the panicking villagers a cheery wave and walked in the direction of their pointing fingers as nonchalantly as if he was heading down to the local 7-11 to pick up a case of beer.

Given he was level one and this was the starting village, it was probably something super lame like a butterfly or raccoon.

That pissed him off the most. When They—whoever They were—moved him from game to game, couldn't they at least let him keep his levels. It fucking sucked having to start right from level one every fucking time.

Jackson reached the edge of the village where a dark, primeval forest encroached.

It was going to be a butterfly, or a dog, or maybe even a lone ferocious goblin.

Ooh, the terror.

Or it could be one of those stupid auto-lose fights against some enormous dragon or similar monster. Jackson wasn't relishing that prospect. Sure, he couldn't Game Over, but being stomped into the ground by a level bajillion dragon was fucking painful when you were actually in the game for real.

He walked between the trees. This was where the villagers had pointed to. No humongous dragon, which was a relief, but also no stupid butterfly or pansy level one monster either. Was this the right place?

Battle music played in the background.

Yep, it was the right place.

A blue splodge jumped out into the centre of the path and wobbled like an oversized plate of jelly.

Of course, he should have known. Obviously it was going to be a blue slime. It was always a fucking blue slime.

The blue blob bobbed and quivered. Protoplasm erupted out of the top and formed into the shape of a sexy young woman with humongous, jiggling boobies.

Jackson's mouth fell open.

II

He'd fought blue slimes before. They were bouncing teardrops with googly eyes that looked like they'd been drawn by a five-year-old. This...didn't.

She—and it was definitely a she—was the same height as him. She was bright blue and partially transparent. He could see the bushes and trees behind her through her body. Their shapes were blurry and distorted by her curves.

She had curves—wow did she have curves—and they were in all the right places. Her figure reminded Jackson of the high school cheerleaders he'd lusted after even though he'd known he never stood a chance. She jiggled and wobbled on the path as if she'd been freshly popped from a mold taken from the body cast of a curvaceous glamour model. A babe made out of jello. A jello babe.

Fucking game developers again, Jackson thought. Always obsessed with the T & A because they couldn't get any in the real world. He gripped the hilt of his shitty starting sword. It was a damn shame, but he was going to have to dice Ms. Jello 2013 into little cubes.

The slime girl said something to him in moonspeak.

Don't understand, don't care, Jackson thought. He lifted up his sword and...

...found himself standing on a featureless cloudy plane with the big tits angel floating in front of him.

Great, the battle tutorial.

The angel asked him some questions in moonspeak. Jackson smiled, nodded his head and pretended to understand. Obviously he didn't, but if he told the big tits angel that then she'd repeat the instructions over and over until he collapsed of old age.

He didn't need the instructions anyway. It was a stupid JRPG. They were all the same. They all had the same commands. Attack, Magic, Item, Run Away. It was the same every fucking time. So Jackson smiled, nodded his head and waited for the big tits angel to send him back so he could splatter Ms. Jelly Tits all over the pre-rendered backdrops exactly the same as he'd done to all the other bouncing blue retards.

The angel finished her piece and Jackson was sent back to the path. The blue girl stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. Naked blue girl, Jackson amended. Naked blue girl with a level of anatomical detail that would usually get a game artist into a lot of trouble.

The blue girl smiled at him and asked him yet another question he didn't understand. Annoyed at being teleported all over the place and having to listen to people jabber moonspeak at him, Jackson finally snapped.

"Doesn't anyone speak American in this stupid fucking game!" he yelled at the sky.

"Oh," the slime girl said. "A Westerner. What are you doing playing an Eastern game in the original nihongo?" she asked in perfect English.

Jackson gawped at her.

"It's okay, I know why," she said. "They don't allow you to make games like this in the West because they're afraid children might get their hands on them and grow up crazy. It's so unfortunate to have to live in such a repressive regime. If you want a little harmless fun you have to seek it out elsewhere. And..."

She pressed her ample boobs together and leaned forward to fully emphasize her jaw-dropping cleavage.

"...pictures are the universal language."

Jackson's jaw dropped.

"Lucky for you I speak American," the slime girl continued. "That's why they made my scene part of the trial," she added proudly.

Jackson continued to stare at her tits. That was some pair, even if they were blue and see-through.

She squished them closer together. They looked a little more...elastic than a normal girl's. "Are these fine?" she asked. "Would you like them bigger? Or smaller? Is this height okay? I know some Western boys get a little intimidated if the girl is taller than them. I can change to be shorter if that's what you prefer."

Jackson stared at her in bafflement. He might understand the words now, but he still had no fucking clue what she was talking about.

"Aren't we supposed to be fighting?" he asked.

"Oh yes, the 'fight'." She even signaled the inverted commas like an MTV Valley Girl. "Okay. It's my surprise attack so I get to go first."

Jackson felt something wet and sticky squish up between his toes. He looked down and saw the slime girl had formed a puddle beneath his feet and he was standing right in the middle of it. He tried to lift a foot and managed only a couple of inches. It was like standing on a glue trap.

"Suraimo Torapo," the girl said. "I've got you now."

Jackson couldn't pull free. The slime oozed up over his feet and ankles, forming a thick elastic sheath that kept his feet stuck together.

"Up I go," the slime girl teased.

The rising sheath of slime crawled up to his thighs. Then it stopped. Jackson twisted and squirmed, but couldn't break through. Smiling, the slime girl watched him...

...and watched...

...and watched...

...until after a while she feigned a yawn. "Come on," she said. "I haven't got all day."

Jackson looked at her glistening, transparent body with a baffled expression on his face.

"It's your turn," she explained. "Aren't you going to do anything?"

"Huh," Jackson said. He paused his fruitless efforts to lift his feet. He was totally stuck.

"Your action. Unless you want to skip it," she added with a suggestive smile.

Of course. Stupid turn-based combat, Jackson thought. They had to take it in turns to attack. It didn't make any sense, but then neither did hos with porn star bodies made out of transparent blue jello.

He became aware of a control panel superimposed over his vision. There it was. All he had to do was select a command action from the list.

Unfortunately, they were all in moon runes. There were seven choices in all—four on the left, three on the right—and he didn't have the slightest idea what any of them were.

He picked the first one on the left. That was where the Attack button usually was, right?

Nothing happened.

"You're bound," the slime girl said. "That doesn't work. My turn!" she added with a musical giggle.

The sticky slime crawled higher up his legs.

"Let's see what you're hiding," the girl said.

Tentacles formed out of the elastic slime sheath. They wriggled upwards until they found the button of his pants. They popped it and pulled down his pants until his junk flopped free.

"Nice," the slime girl said. She ran a blue tongue over blueberry-colored lips. "Next attack I think I'll play with it. Would you like that?"

Jackson squirmed again in a fruitless attempt to get free.

Fucking great. He was stuck in some sick puppy's perverted hentai game and he didn't have the faintest idea how to play it.

He focused on the control panel superimposed over his vision. He was stuck having to play these games by their rules. That's how it went. One of the options must allow him to dice the bitch. All he had to do was guess which one. If it wasn't the top action on the left then it must be the top one on the right. He selected it.

Nothing happened.

The slime girl laughed. "Ha ha. I knew you were just like all the others."

A pseudopod reared up and dived into his junk with a wet splodge. Jackson jerked backwards involuntarily. It was not a sensation he was expecting. Given the slimy nature of her body he'd expected something cold and unpleasantly squishy. Or worse, an acidic burning. Instead it felt sort of...nice.

Her jelly had engulfed the whole of his cock. Like a mouth had opened in the end of her tentacle and she'd sucked him in. He felt the warm, moist and soft substance of her body wrapped around him. He could even still see his penis. He saw it lengthening into an erection through her transparent blue skin. He watched his foreskin move back and forth as her amorphous appendage sucked and tugged on him.

His cock was inside her slime. He should pull it out before she did something nasty, like dissolve it or some scary shit like that.

The tentacle bulged as more of the amorphous material of her body flowed up and enveloped his cock in a warm, gelid grip. It felt really good.

In a moment, Jackson thought.

The slime giggled. "They always like to lose first time round, naughty boys," she said.

Bulges in the tentacle moved back and forth as she masturbated him.

"Ha ha," the slime girl said. "Soon I'll take you to—"

"Uh," Jackson said. He felt his cock throb as he expelled a glob of cloudy semen right into the liquid interior of her tentacle.

"Oh," the slime girl said, her mouth forming a surprised o. "Whoops. My fault. I should have gone easier on you. Your repressive Western culture mustn't allow you much experience of games like this."

Jackson didn't have the faintest idea what she was talking about. He did know he'd just jizzed right inside her slimy tentacle and that was just fucking wrong.

More of her slime flowed right down to the end of the tentacle. It bunched up around the root of his cock, forming a soft cuff. She rolled it up his shaft and squeezed out the last dribbles of cum left in his pipes. Jackson watched as the little splatters of cum floating within her slime were drawn down the tentacle and up into her main body.

"Mmm, tasty," she said as the little clouds of his semen dissolved and were absorbed by her semi-liquid flesh.

"Is it my turn now?" Jackson asked. All the command options had gone away.

The slime girl looked surprised. "Turn? It's over. You came, you lost."

"What?" Jackson complained. "That's not fair. I didn't understand the controls."

"It's not the end of the game," the slime girl laughed. "You can repeat the same fight over and over." Her face took on a very lewd expression. "Actually, that's kind of the whole point."

She slithered towards him. More tentacles budded off her blue body and reached out for his immobilized body.

"But first: you came, you lost, now it's time to enjoy your Bad End."

Her expression was now really lewd...really lewd and hungry.

III

Bad End? Jackson didn't like the sound of that at all. Japs were freaks, everyone knew that. This end scene could be anything, even her absorbing him and melting his face off. Having to watch that would be bad enough, but actually being in the game and experiencing it first hand...

Panicking, Jackson checked the control panel. Wait, there were some commands he recognized, up on the right, just above the main message window. Save and...

Skip!

The slime girl opened her arms to embrace him. Her tentacles slithered around his body.

Skip Skip Skip Skip SKIIIIP!

The slime girl's eyes widened in surprise. "You're skipping the sex scene? Who does—"

The woodland path vanished and Jackson found himself back on the featureless, cloudy plane with the big tits angel. She looked sad.

Alas, poor Ian Jackson, Jackson thought. The unlucky adventurer had all the flesh melted off his bones by a skanky slime girl. Or some other shit like that.

The angel opened her mouth and started speaking to Jackson in moonspeak. Not again, couldn't he just—

Hey wait, the Skip option was here too. Sweet.

Skip.

Jackson went straight to the end of the angel's speech. She'd stopped looking sad and instead had a smile full of positivity and hope.

Go forth and cube the slimy skank, Jackson imagined her saying in a squeaky voice.

The angel and the cloudy plane faded out and Jackson was back on the woodland path with the battle music playing in the background. A blue splodge landed on the center of the path and bounced up into the jiggling form of a super-hot babe.

"Ready for the rematch?" she asked.

Huh? How would she know it was a rematch? That was the whole point of Continue. It rewound the player back to the point before they'd gotten themselves squished. So how could she know about things that technically hadn't happened?

"And be careful with the Skip button," she said. "You skipped the H-scene last time."

Well d'uh. Like he wanted to watch his dick get melted off.

"I'm Suraimo," the slime girl said. "I don't think we had a chance to introduce ourselves last time."

Jackson didn't say anything.

"The silent type, how delicious," Suraimo said. "Have you got the hang of the controls now?"

Jackson raised his stupidly large and probably shit sword. He could do this. The game might be in Japanese, but she was only a low-level monster—the tutorial battle. He could do this. He was going to dice her into little blue cubes...cautiously.




Jackson in HRPG-World 03



"Okay, let's go. Suraimo Torapo!"

Jackson was stuck in a blue puddle of slime. Again.

Great. He twisted and pulled, but couldn't get his body free. Suraimo's hips swayed from side to side as she glided towards him.

"Want a second service?" she asked. "How about I use these?"

She cupped her hands around her substantial blue breasts and squeezed them together.

Jackson's cock sprang to attention in his pants.

Give it a rest, he thought. She's made out of bright blue jello.

It's not sexy.

She gave him a suggestive smile as she reached down and unbuttoned his pants. They fell to the floor and Jackson's erection flopped free.

Look. It's not sexy.

His other head had a different idea on that. It bobbed around on the end of a hardening shaft.

Suraimo ran a tongue over plush blue lips and mischief glittered in her eyes. She crouched down until her swollen boobs were level with his waist. She held them apart and Jackson's cock twitched in the space between them.

It's not—

Suraimo brought her tits together with a wet splodge, sandwiching Jackson's cock.

Ohhhhh.

She absorbed his member. Jackson looked down and saw it resting between the transparent bulges of her enormous boobs. He felt their soft elasticity pressing all around him as Suraimo squeezed them together.

He saw the control panel is his mind again. A message he couldn't read flashed up. There was a number, 4, he could read buried amongst the moonrunes. He also noticed there was a green bar on the bottom left. Somewhere between a fifth and a quarter of its length dropped off the end.

Ah, so that must be his life bar. The one on the right must be hers.

So hit her.

He looked at the commands and tried to work out which one would allow him to do that.

Fuck it. Screw the control panel. She was kneeling in front of him—a sitting duck. All he had to do was lift up the massive sword and stab it straight down. Easy.

Do it!

Attaaaacccckkkk!

Nothing happened.

Okay, another unreadable message flashed up. But there were no numbers, no change to her life bar and the stupid sword remained resolutely nowhere near plunging down into her back.

"That doesn't work when you're bound," Suraimo said.

She squished her boobs together and jiggled them around his cock. Jackson felt her soft curves rub against him. Another chunk fell off his life bar.

This wasn't going right at all.

Hold on. It was a pervy Japanese hentai game. Maybe he was supposed to be using his other 'sword'.

Instead of trying to pull away from her, he tensed his buttocks and thrust his hard cock deeper into the gelatinous substance of her chest.

Didn't expect that, huh.

Suraimo smiled with delight. "So eager. Are slime girls your fetish?"

What? Wait...

Jackson realized he was completely stuck between her breasts now. He couldn't pull out. They swelled up of their own accord and pressed tightly all around his erection.

"In that case I'll give you a really pleasant service." Suraimo smiled up at him with eyes full of filthy intent.

Her breasts throbbed around his cock. He felt it all the way down in his balls.

"Don't tell anyone," Suraimo said. "I'm not supposed to have a paizuri attack, but there's only so many tentacle handjobs a girl can give out before it starts to get boring."

Her boobs pulsed and her cleavage clenched tightly around him. So tight her breasts melted together and his cock was absorbed into the thick liquid suction of her body. Shudders ran through him. He erupted inside her. This time she helped him with the ejaculation. The molten swell of her breasts throbbed against him like bellows, prolonging his orgasm and drawing more semen from his cock even after he thought the flow was subsiding.

Mewling in pleasure, Suraimo wrapped her arms around Jackson's ass and pressed her wet breasts into his lap. He continued to spurt inside the warm gelatinous substance of her chest. A dense white cloud was blooming inside her blue body and his knees were feeling wobbly. He couldn't fall over; Suraimo had wrapped the whole of his lower body in curtains of thick, elastic slime.

"Oh, sugoi," Suraimo sighed. Her eyes were shut and there was a red flush on her cheeks. Jackson had no idea where that had come from, it wasn't as if she had blood vessels.

The flow finally ebbed away to a trickle and Jackson watched the fluffy white cloud dissipate through her body. Suraimo looked up at him, her eyes bright.

"You lost," she said. "Time for your Bad End."

The lines of her body softened and started to wriggle up Jackson's exposed flesh.

IV

Skiiippp!

He was back on the cloudy plane with the sad big tits angel. She opened her mouth to—

Skip.

The big tits angel sent him back to the woodland path with a smile full of hope.

Suraimo was waiting for him. "You skipped the H-scene again," she said. "I told you to be careful with the Skip button. Now you'll have to lose to me again if you want to see it."

Not this time. Jackson was ready. No more surprise attacks gluing his feet to the floor. He was prepared. The moment she'd tried that shit he was going to jump—

"Suraimo Torapo!"

Jackson's feet were glued to the floor.

Motherfucker! How could she move so fast?

Suraimo giggled as her slime bubbled up between his toes and covered his ankles. A little bit of Jackson's life bar fell away. She sent her layer of slime up past his knees and then dutifully waited for him to take his action.

Okay, let's think about this. Jackson studied the control panel.

"Are you sure you understood Aerias's instructions?" Suraimo asked.

"Shut up, I'm thinking," Jackson snapped back.

Let's be methodical about this. He'd tried the top option from both the first and second column and it hadn't done anything. The second and fourth options on the left were grayed out and couldn't be selected. What about the third option, the funny squiggle? He hadn't tried that one yet.

He selected it.

His hips and legs moved of their own accord. He stepped backwards and this time the slimy constraints of her body felt more like wet mud than industrial strength rubber covered in super glue. He struggled free.

Suraimo clapped her hands and giggled. "Yay! You figured out how to get free."

And now the tide turns.

Jackson brought up the control panel in his mind and saw the fourth option was no longer grayed out. Aha! He selected it and his body took up a fighting stance with the sword held out in front of him.

Now we're smoking.

"Oh, you want me to take it slow?" Suraimo queried. "Sure, I can do that if you'd like."

She glided forwards and slipped inside Jackson's defenses. One hand undid the button of his pants while the other squidged underneath his tunic and rubbed up his back. A smaller chunk fell off his health bar this time. He saw a 1.

1HP? He supposed that was progress.

He selected the fourth command again.

Suraimo pressed her body close in an embrace. Her hand slithered up to the back of his head and held him still as she crushed her lips on his in a sloppy kiss. Her other hand slipped up and down his hard-on as smoothly as if it had been dipped in scented oil.

She broke off the kiss leaving her taste lingering on his tongue and lips. It was nice: sweet, fruity and somehow naughty.

Focus, Jackson thought.

Maybe she'd neutralized the action or something. He tried again.

Suraimo pressed her palm down on the swollen helmet of his cock. She pushed and his dick sank into the warm, semi-liquid substance of her arm. She kept on pushing until his whole length was absorbed and her fused fingers had enfolded his balls. Pleasant sensations rippled down his shaft as she played with his balls. Another small chunk fell off his health bar.

"No fair," Jackson complained. "When do I get to take my actions?"

Suraimo paused. She looked puzzled.

"You're taking them," she said. "You selected Defend for the last three turns."

"Defend?" Is that what he'd been doing. The super-lame action no one ever took because it didn't do anything. Fucking great.

"Time to wrap you up again," Suraimo said. "You won't get away this time." She delivered her lines like a self-aware kids' TV show villain.

Waves of slime flowed out from her base and engulfed his feet and ankles.

Fuck defending. Attacking was where he needed to be. He tried the top option again.

Nothing happened.

"You can't attack when you're bound," Suraimo said.

She went down on her knees in front of him while her slippery hand continued to pump up and down his erection.

"How about a nice blowjob?" She smiled as she held his throbbing red erection. "Slime girls give really good head. Super sloppy."

She wasn't exaggerating. Jackson closed his eyes as moist lips as soft as fine pillows wrapped around the swollen head of his cock and sucked him in like a popsicle. He heard murmurs of pleasure and wet sucking sounds as Suraimo's head bobbed back and forth. He felt lips and a tongue, but there was no opening at the back of her mouth. Instead his cock sank into a soft substance that sent pleasurable tingles tickling across his glans.

Suraimo released him with a wet smacking sound. She ran a darker blue tongue over her plump lips.

"How's that feel?" she asked.

"Uh," was the best Jackson could manage.

A big chunk fell off his health bar.

"Whoops. That was a little too powerful for your level. I'll have to tone it back a little to keep the fight fair."

Stab her, Jackson thought. All he had to do was lift the sword and thrust it straight down through her kneeling body. Stab her. Attaaaccckkk!

Nothing happened.

The corner of Suraimo's mouth turned up in a smile.

"Ha ha, I see your game," she said. "You're one of those that likes to pretend they're fighting right until the end."

She gave another murmur of pleasure and wrapped her lips around his cock. Her head bobbed up and down while making loud slurping sounds. Jackson's cock was buried in warm slime that sucked at him like thick mud. She carried on the attack for longer this time, sucking and sucking until Jackson's cock was twitching right on the verge and all that remained of his health bar was a tiny green sliver.

Jackson tried to struggle free. The sticky slime started to lose its grip.

"Not this time," Suraimo said.

She responded by wrapping more curtains of thick, elastic slime around his legs and feet, covering him right up to the tops of his thighs.

Goddammit! Jackson thought.

"Nearly," Suraimo said. "I think you're right at your limit."

Jackson felt right at his limit. His cock was throbbing in her hand. Pre-cum oozed out of his japseye and dribbled down the shaft. He watched as it encountered her transparent blue skin and was absorbed.

"Mmm, your bar is so low even the weakest attack would be enough to make you come." Suraimo looked up at him and smiled. "I don't need to hold back. I can give you a really big suck."

And she did.

With another orgasmic murmur she sucked him back into her mouth and moved her face all the way down until her plush lips were kissing his root. Deep-throating him, if she had a throat to deep-throat him with. What she had was better. The soft amorphous substance of her body felt like rows and rows of lips around his cock, all of them kissing, squeezing, sucking. She wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him tighter. The whole of her upper body was working on him now. He felt her wet boobs squashed up against his upper thighs. Her chest rose up and down like a marathon runner or deep-sea diver drawing in great gulps of air.

But it wasn't air, it was him.

The last sliver of green fell off his health bar.

Oh fuck, this was going to be—

All the muscles in his body stiffened. His hips jerked forwards like a released bowstring. He sighed as a thick torrent of cum surged up his shaft and erupted into the liquid interior of her mouth. Even gagged as she was with his cock, Suraimo still managed a muffled cry of glee. Her chest continued to expand up and down as she guzzled down his cum like a sorority sister chugging on a keg. Jackson's ejaculation kept going. He wasn't sure his body had much say in it. Suraimo was sucking it out of him as if his cock was a straw.

Oh fuck, was this head. Fantastic, super sloppy, amazing head.

Jackson thought he might have orgasmed again, or maybe more. The sensations merged into one seemingly never-ending throbbing burst of pleasure.

He tipped over backwards with a moon-faced smile on his lips. Suraimo didn't allow him to hit the floor. She'd already sent thick pseudopodia out behind him and they caught him like a wet airbag. Her gelatinous body lay on top of his legs and she continued to suck, drawing out every last drop from his cock and balls.

She lifted her head and showed Jackson the creamy white blobs of his cum on her lips and inside her mouth. She sucked them inside, tipped back her head and gulped. He saw the blobs flow down her throat and join the thick cloud drifting inside her chest. Another gulp and the cloud was sucked down into her belly where it slowly dissipated.

She was a swallower, Jackson thought.

"Ahhh," Suraimo sighed. She showed him her empty mouth.

Yep, definitely a swallower.

"Time for that Bad End?" she asked. Her slime rippled up over his exposed belly.

Bad End jolted Jackson from his haze of contentment. What else did she like to swallow?

V

Skip.

Sad angel.

Skip.

Positive angel.

"I know what you're doing," Suraimo said after he'd returned to the forest path. "You want to draw it out and save the H-scene to the last. You want to see all my moves first."

Jackson wanted to see her diced into little blue cubes.

"That's so sweet. I'll be sure to add a few extra special ones to heighten your pleasure." She gave him a lascivious wink.

Jackson sighed. He held up his sword. Okay, let's be systematic about this.

"Suraimo Torapo!"

The surprise attack was part of the script. He couldn't avoid it, but he could—

He selected the third option.

—struggle out of it.

He noticed the lines of gunk on his portrait in the control panel went away. Okay, that must mean he was free. Now maybe he'd be able to attack cleanly.

He selected the top left option.

He stepped forward and swung his sword.

Haha. At last! Now he was going to do some damage.

The slime girl sidestepped his swing.

"You'll never hit anyone with a strike that slow," she said, again delivering her lines like a self-aware cartoon villain.

Fuck! So it wasn't that option after all. What else was there? There was the bottom option, the seventh command. He hadn't tried that yet. Selecting it brought up a second list of options. He selected one at random.

Suraimo's eyes lit up. "Oh. You liked my paizuri so much you want me to do it again. I can do that. With pleasure," she added.

"Huh," Jackson said. He hadn't said that at all.

Suraimo crouched down and dived forward, taking him down at the waist. Jackson landed on his back on the path with Suraimo hugging his waist. Giggling, she found the button of his pants and pulled them down, again exposing his penis. Not again, he thought, even as another part of him felt a thrill of anticipation.

"Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy," Suraimo said.

She placed hands on either side of her generous breasts and pushed them together around his cock. Sandwiched between two moist and elastic boobs, it didn't take long for his manhood to surge up to its full length.

"Bounce, bounce, bounce," Suraimo teased as her upper body bobbed up and down.

Jackson saw his erection roll around as it was buffeted between her transparent tits. It was slippery within her cleavage and erotic shivers ran through him as she rubbed the soft mass of her breasts up and down his cock.

His enjoyment was sullied as he watched his health bar gradually get eaten away.

He was losing, again.

"Hey, what about my actions?" he asked.

It was supposed to be turn-based combat. His seemed to have vanished.

"You don't get any more actions," she said. "Bounce, bounce, bounce," she added with a wide grin.

"Hey! How is that fair?" Jackson complained.

Suraimo paused and looked at him quizzically.

"You did select the option: Use paizuri on me until I come."

"I did?"

That was what the command did?

"Hold on," he said. "If I come I lose, right?"

"Yes."

"So what's the point of a command that causes the player to instantly lose?"

Suraimo placed a liquid hand on his chest and looked down at him with her head tilted to one side.

"How else are we going to know what moves a player wants done to them," she explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She shook her head. "I'm not sure you understand this game at all."

She continued squeezing her breasts up against his cock like they were a pair of soft pillows. Fluffed up between them, Jackson felt his cock give a warning twitch. He tried to hold back the urge to come, but it was growing stronger and stronger. At the same time his green bar in the control panel was dwindling away to nothing.

"Time to absorb your little man and make sure he's all nice and snug for the release," Suraimo said.

She squeezed her breasts together even tighter than before. Jackson's erection was swallowed up completely in her cleavage, trapped within a transparent prison that pulsed and shivered pleasantly around him.

"Squish, squish," Suraimo said, smiling coquettishly, her lips plumped up like a classic movie-star beauty.

Her soft breasts were melting around him, enveloping his erection in warm jelly. The liquid oozed down between his thighs and engulfed his balls.

Fuck. He couldn't hold it back. He was going to lose.

"Squish," Suraimo said, lips pouting in a kiss.

Her melting boobs throbbed around him. He felt the gelatinous substance of her chest suck on his straining manhood.

"Coming," Jackson grunted.

Pleasurable tension thrummed through his body. His cock pulsed and spurted a thick rope of cum right into the churning center of her chest. Her boobs started to swell up as she drank the semen pouring from Jackson in a sticky stream. Again the motions of her gelatinous body seemed to take over to the point he wasn't sure whether he was pumping cum into her or she was pumping it out of him. The pleasure he felt was the same either way and she made sure to drag it out until Jackson felt weak and floppy in the aftermath.

Suraimo ran her slippery hands along Jackson's sides.

"So, would you like that Bad End now?"

VI

Panic shoved aside Jackson's lethargy. He had an answer for that:

Skip.

Hello, big tits angel.

Skip.

Goodbye, big tits angel.

"It's a good command to have, right?" Suraimo said as he returned to the path. "Handjob." She held up a hand and wiggled fingers as flexible as worms. "Blowjob." she mimed sucking on an imaginary penis. "Paizuri." She pushed her substantial boobs together.

A pleasurable shiver ran through Jackson as he remembered what she did to him last time.

Fucking stop it, he admonished. His cock twitched in his pants and he wanted to bash the traitorous organ back down.

"It's a popular selection," Suraimo said. "Players like to choose how to succumb."

"Selecting how you want to lose is gay," Jackson said.

Who chose to lose: losers, that's who.

"You do know what this game is about?" Suraimo asked.

"It's a pervy hentai game and I'm going to beat it," Jackson said. His face was stern as he settled into a fighting stance with his sword held out before him.

Suraimo clapped her hands and giggled. Her gelatinous body shook like an excitable cheerleader. 




Jackson in HRPG-World 03



"That's the spirit," she said. "I love the ones that really get into the role," she added conspiratorially.

She started with her slime trap again. No problem. He knew what to do. He selected Struggle and stepped back out of the sticky puddle. Now what? He tried attacking and again Suraimo easily sidestepped his heavy swing. Her wet hand rubbed up his crotch.

Jackson took a moment to consider his next action.

That swing had been truly inept. Jackson was a pasty-faced gamer who spent most of his waking hours on a sofa and even he could swing a sword better than that.

Hey wait, what if this was one of those stupid story-building sections? Where the player had to learn the basic moves that would set him on the path to being a hero.

He selected Attack again.

He lunged forward and drove his stupidly large sword right through the center of Suraimo's chest until the blade emerged from the other side.

Yeah baby! That's what we're talking about.

Suraimo looked down at the sword sticking out of her chest. She seemed completely unfazed by the four feet of steel transfixing her body. With good reason, as it happened. As terminal as the strike looked, it had only knocked off maybe a third or quarter of her life bar.

A quarter? For running her through? Stupid RPG mechanics, Jackson thought. At least he'd struck a blow and damaged her.

The sword came free with a sound like thick mud sucking on a foot. Suraimo smiled at him. A message flashed up in Jackson's control panel. He watched the gash in her chest close up. Her green life bar filled back up to full.

"You can regenerate?" Jackson asked, shocked.

"Slimes have been known to possess that ability, yes," Suraimo said.

She regenerated? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

This was the first battle? How was he supposed to fucking beat her? It was fucking impossible.

Maybe that was the point. Maybe the fight was supposed to be unwinnable.

He hadn't used the sixth command yet. That was because it had to be Run Away and only lamers picked Run Away.

Unless...

Yes, it was just like that stupid practice swing. He wasn't supposed to win this fight. This was part of the story. This was the part where he'd try to go it alone, get his ass handed to him by the first monster he came across, and then escape back to the village where some badass gramps would teach him The Way of the Exploding Double Dragon or some other bullshit like that.

Yes. That had to be it.

He selected the sixth command.

He knew he'd made a mistake when he saw Suraimo's eyes light up.

"Oh, that's my favorite option," she said.

What the fuck had he done now?

Jackson's arms fell loosely to his sides. He dropped the sword. Suraimo glided down the path towards him, hips swaying slinkily from side to side. He made no move to stop her as she undid and dropped his pants.

"That wasn't the Run Away option, was it?" Jackson asked the obvious.

"Nope." Suraimo shook her head.

She turned around and backed into him. She rubbed the soft curves of her ass against his crotch. She took his hands and pressed them into the soft gelatinous mounds of her breasts. She turned her head and planted a wet kiss on Jackson's cheek.

"Mmm. Choices, choices. I think I'll use some moves that aren't in the script."

She gave him a lewd wink and wriggled against his captive body. She squeezed his hands, forcing him to squeeze her pliable boobs. She rubbed her ass up and down, sliding his erection along the slippery crack between her ass cheeks.

"What was that option?" Jackson asked. And why had it taken away all his options?

Suraimo leaned her head back against his shoulder. Glops of whatever she had instead of hair oozed down his back.

"That's the option for Surrender and let the girl do whatever she wants to you."

"What!" Jackson shrieked. "What kind of dumbass game has two surrender options!"

"A really filthy and—"

She continued to rub the elastic swell of her ass against him. She lifted up higher and higher until his cock fell into the gap between her thighs and beneath her peachy ass.

"—perverted one."

She came down and the head of his cock, then the whole shaft pushed up into her soft gelatinous body.

Oh fuck.

He was inside her.

"Mmm. Oh yes," Suraimo said.

She wriggled in his arms and he felt waves run through her semi-liquid form. They rippled under his hands and around his cock like the caress of gentle hands. He was inside her. The warm slime of her body was pressing all around his erection.

"Is this your ass or pussy?" Jackson asked.

"Which would you like?" Suraimo asked.

She moved her ass against him in little circular motions. Not fully in command of his body, Jackson followed her. His hips added to the movements with little thrusts. More teasing little ripples kissed up and down his sensitive hard-on. Ass or pussy, it didn't matter. Not when it felt this good. The ripples slowed down and the viscous fluids of her body thickened around his penis until it felt like soft hands were gently tugging on him.

His hands sank into the gooey mounds of her breasts. He still felt their soft swell beneath his hands, but now it felt like they were all around his fingers. Her own hands and arms melted over his until he was embedded in her body up to his elbows. Pleasantly squishy sensations crackled across the touch receptors in his fingers. So many sensations. His hands felt the size of cars and he could distinguish each and every square centimeter.

It was the same for his cock. It felt enormous—a column—and he felt every rippling wave of her liquid body flow over and around him as she rose up and down.

Jackson's life bar dropped from full to empty in a very short space of time.

His hips jerked forwards and he fired a huge jet of semen into the rippling center of her body. He watched it bloom in her belly like a mushroom cloud. It took his strength with it. Spent, he sagged backwards. Suraimo lay on top of him and her liquefying body covered him like a warm blanket. His hands were still stuck within the jiggling mass of her breasts. She murmured as the churning center of her body drew the last puffs of his ejaculation out of his cock. The white streams drifted within her transparent blue flesh like ghostly wisps.

"Mmm, that was nice," Suraimo said as she lay on top of him.

Jackson selected the Skip option.

VII

"Hey!" Suraimo cried as he vanished from the path and returned to the featureless, cloudy plane.

The big tits angel wasn't sad anymore, she was pissed. As soon as he appeared on the plane she started yelling and jabbing a finger at him.

Oh oh. Skip.

That didn't help much. She was still pissed off at him. She waved him away with an angry gesture.

"Eager for more?" Suraimo asked as he returned back to the start of the fight. "What would you like me to do to you this time?"

Jackson threw his sword at her.

Suraimo turned her head and watched as it sailed past her into the bushes. "I didn't think it was possible to do that," she said to no one in particular.

She slithered up to Jackson and undid his pants.

"I'm getting the feeling you're not really enjoying this," she said.

A slimy appendage enveloped Jackson's penis and jerked him off to another large ejaculation.

Skip.

Big tits angel was absolutely furious with him. Her face was bright red and looked most un-angelic as she screamed at him. He was thankful of the—

Skip.

—option as she looked on the verge of attacking him. After the skip wasn't much better. She'd turned her back on him in a huff and stood there with her arms folded. Jackson felt that was a good time to slink off back to the battle.

"I think you're stuck," Suraimo said after she'd glued down his feet with her surprise attack, again. "You want to get past this 'fight', but you don't know how."

Jackson glowered at her.

"I can help," Suraimo said. "Do you need clues?"

"Okay," Jackson said. "Is this a battle I can win?"

Suraimo looked taken aback. "Yes, of course you can win," she said with a bemused tone.

Jackson thought a little more. "Was there an item or something I needed to pick up from the village before I came out here?"

"No," Suraimo replied. "You have everything you need with you right now."

Jackson paused. His face scrunched up. How? he thought. He'd tried out every command and nothing had worked.

"It's not that hard," she said, her gelatinous body shaking with mirth. "It's a simple puzzle battle. Aerias should have told you the steps by..."

She put a hand over her mouth and blushed in embarrassment.

"Oh, but Aerias doesn't speak English. Ah."

"It does make things a little more challenging," Jackson said testily.

"Okay, I'll walk you through the steps," she said. "I am the tutorial battle after all."

She closed her eyes and grinned. Pretty face or not, Jackson still wanted to put a fist through it and make it go splat.

"Suraimo Torapo is my binding attack," she explained. "While you're bound your normal attacks can't hit me. You need to select Struggle first to escape."

"And that's all the command does, get the player out of holds?" Jackson stepped back out of her sticky puddle, but not before a sinuous arm had managed to pull his pants down. "Seems a little narrow focus."

"You'll be using it a lot of times in this game," Suraimo said. "Bondage is a popular fetish. People find it sexy to have their movement taken away." She gave him a lewd wink.

"Okay, so what now?" Jackson asked. "None of the options do anything."

"It's a puzzle battle," Suraimo said. "The first actions are all scripted. You have to go through them to advance the story. Try Attack."

Jackson did. He swung his sword at her like a retarded kid with poor motor function and Suraimo easily stepped out of the way.

"This is the part where I taunt your slow swing," Suraimo said.

And give him a grope for good measure, Jackson thought as a tentacle wound up his legs and tickled his balls.

"The story has advanced. Now attack again."

Jackson lunged forwards and drove his sword right through Suraimo's chest. While it felt satisfying, he would have enjoyed it far more had Suraimo not been so completely unconcerned by the four foot of steel passing through her body.

"And this is where I regenerate and you complain about how unfair that is."

She pulled the sword out of her chest and the gash closed up.

"It is unfair," Jackson complained. "How am I supposed to beat a monster that regenerates as fast as I can do it damage?"

Suraimo tapped her nose. "Try selecting Attack again."

Jackson ran her through again.

Suraimo looked down at the long blade puncturing her body with mild disdain.

"No, that's the same attack as before," she said.

She pulled the sword out and handed it back to Jackson. The regeneration message flashed up and her green life bar filled back up.

"You need to... Oh, wait a moment, Suraimo Torapo."

Jackson's feet were gummed up by a puddle of slime again.

Same attack? There were other attacks? Oh wait. Selecting Attack had brought up another menu with two options. He'd raced through too fast last time. He went for Attack again.

"No no no." Suraimo shook her head in exasperation.

Her arms elongated into tentacles. One wormed into his crotch for a sticky grope. The other—and Jackson had no idea how she did this—came out of the screen of his game interface and tapped the player portrait on the bottom left. A dripping finger traced over what appeared to be sticky ropes superimposed over his face.

"You're bound. Attacks don't work. You need to select Struggle first."

Her finger moved over and selected the Struggle option. Jackson's legs moved of their own accord and he stepped backwards out of her gooey clutches.

"So now I select the second attack option?" Jackson asked.

"In a mo," Suraimo said. "My turn first. Oh." She paused. "Oh dear. This is a rather inconvenient time for that move to show up. Oh well, it was bound to happen at some point."

Suddenly she reared up—arms outstretched and trailing curtains of blue slime—and broke over Jackson like a tsunami made of jelly. He was knocked backwards, but didn't hit the floor as the protean substance of Suraimo's body had already flowed around and beneath him. He landed on a cushion of soft, sticky jello and rocked up and down. Suraimo's upper body fell upon him like a wave and wrapped him up in her elastic protoplasm.

Fuck, that must be some kind of special attack. She'd engulfed him completely apart from his face. How much had that knocked off his health?

Not much, fortunately. His bar was down to less than halfway, but he still had about forty percent of his health left.

Suraimo lay to his side—the upper human-looking part of her anyway, the rest lay on both sides of Jackson as well as above and below him—and whispered words into his ear. What felt like many dextrous hands undid his clothes and ejected them from her quivering mass.

"I'd feel more guilty about this, but it is my best move. Most players love it." Her soft lips brushed his ear. "Some request it over and over."

Jackson ignored her and tried to thrash free. It was a poor excuse for thrashing. The substance of Suraimo's body was thicker and gooier than water. His current efforts looked like the slow-motion film of a man drowning in a giant water droplet.

Okay, so this probably counted as bound. Jackson looked for the Struggle command on his mental control panel. It wasn't there; none of the commands were. That didn't make sense. He still had some health left, so it couldn't be Game Over.

Suraimo's amorphous body moved around him, gently squeezing and massaging his legs and arms. A message flashed up and another chunk fell off Jackson's life bar.

Her attack. Now it was his turn.

Except it wasn't. No command options came up.

Suraimo embraced him with her whole body. Internal currents toyed with his balls and lengthening erection. More of his green bar fell away. It was down to the last quarter now.

"Why can't I do anything?" he asked.

Suraimo shifted position until her upper body was lying on top of him with her bulging breasts resting on his chest.

"This is Suraimo Paradiso. It's my auto-win attack. All of your moves are cut off. You can't do anything so lie back and relax while I drain all your resistance away."

Her swollen breasts melted into the blue slime enveloping his whole body. Jackson's struggles grew weaker. It felt like there were a hundred hands working his body. She rubbed, kneaded and massaged his aching muscles until they glowed with blissful relaxation. Jackson stopped struggling and let his body float within her semi-liquid form. She undulated around him in gentle waves.

"You regenerate and have an auto-win attack?" Jackson protested.

"I suppose that might seem a little excessive for the first battle," Suraimo said. She rubbed her body on top of him and sent gentle currents tickling against his exposed flesh.

"You think!"

"It's all quite fair. I can only use it when your resistance drops to half or less, and even then it's pure chance whether that attack is selected."

"Cheap," Jackson muttered.

Suraimo laughed. "If you weren't so terrible you'd have dispatched me way before your resistance dropped below halfway."

"I would...if the commands were in English!"

"Oh shut up and come."

Her body thickened around his cock and sucked on it with a series of gentle tugs. Jackson's resistance broke and he did as he was ordered. His body flexed, he grunted and released a thick white stream from his cock. The ejaculation was longer and slower—more relaxed—than the others, but he still felt like he'd emptied the entire contents of his balls into her. It formed a thick white cloud before dissolving away within her blue slime.

Another loss, he thought.

He brought up the control panel in his mind and went to select Skip.

Suraimo's slime poured in and formed a thick plaque over the section with the Skip command.

Wha? How?

Jackson's finger, or rather his mental equivalent, couldn't get through to select it.

"That's enough skipping," Suraimo said. "This time you're getting your Bad End."

VIII

Oh crap.

Jackson panicked and started thrashing again. Not that it did any good. Her gooey body stretched with his limbs without releasing him.

"All this struggling isn't very romantic, you know," Suraimo said.

Jackson ignored her and kept straining against her elastic slime.

"Okay, that's it. Time to secrete a little muscle relaxant to calm you down."

Jackson felt moistness against his skin, and then a tingling sensation that trickled into his tissues. His struggles grew slower and weaker. His limbs grew heavier and heavier until he could barely move them, like his blood had turned to concrete.

"Better," Suraimo said. "Now let's fluff this up to make things a little more comfortable."

She pulled her gelatinous body together into a more compact form. Jackson was lifted up higher. More of her substance settled beneath him. Thick swirls puffed up and formed a soft pillow for his head. It felt like he was lying on a big bouncy bed of jello. It felt comfortable now, but he knew it wouldn't be long before he felt the stinging agony as her acids started to dissolve him.

Suraimo sat up, straddling him on top of a bed formed out of her own body.

"Look at the defeated adventurer," she taunted. "That makes me feel so wet. I think it's time to really let the juices flow."

Jackson felt her wetness all around him. Warm fluids oozed out of her protoplasm and bathed his engulfed body.

He gritted his teeth. "Make it quick," he pleaded.

He'd seen The Blob. He really really hoped being melted down to his bones wasn't as painful as it looked.

Suraimo folded her molten body over his and planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

"Don't be silly," she whispered in his ear. "You're completely at my mercy. I'm going to take this really slow and drag it out for as long as possible."

The motions of her body squished her warm juices into his exposed flesh. His skin started to tingle. Was that the acid starting to eat its way through?

His face cracked. He trembled. Water welled up in his eyes.

He couldn't take this. It didn't matter that it wouldn't be final, that he'd most likely wake up back at the checkpoint fully intact. He'd still have the memory of it. And the experience of lying here and feeling his body slowly dissolve away wasn't something he could cope with.

Suraimo noticed his tear-stained face and sat up in surprise.

"What's the matter with you?" she asked. "Don't tell me you're one of those purity-obsessed religious types. I've heard they have some very strange attitudes to sex in the West. There's no need to be worried. I don't think this counts as losing your virginity, and even if it did, you're going to go back to the checkpoint afterwards, so technically none of this will have happened."

Suraimo thought about what she'd just said and laughed at the absurdity of it.

"Besides. Game! None of this is real."

"Don't eat me," Jackson sobbed. "I don't want to be melted."

Suraimo reared back, a stunned expression on her face.

"Eat you! Euwww, gross! You didn't think...?"

Suraimo looked at Jackson, saw he did think that. She slapped him on the face.

"Quit it with the racism, mister! Everyone knows it's blob girls that eat people, not slime girls. And it's not that horrible either. Blob girls secrete a hormone that tricks the body into thinking pain signals are pleasure signals. Their victims are in complete ecstasy as they're absorbed. You'll find that out later." She gave him a knowing wink.




Jackson in HRPG-World 03



"You're not going to eat me?"

"Yuck. That'd be like eating orange peel. Who wants to do that when there's so much delicious juice waiting inside?" Ripples ran through her slime. It felt like a lubricated hand sliding up his shaft. "Mmm, I do intend to suck a lot of juice out of you, but I think you're young and healthy enough to survive."

"Then what are these juices?" Jackson, suspicious, asked.

He didn't feel any burning sensations, but her talk of switching pain for pleasure had left him feeling paranoid. He was scared to look down and find his feet had gone.

Suraimo's face floated above his. Her blobby hair fell around his face like a curtain. "A little something to help me suck lots of cum out of you."

She fell upon him in a wet kiss. A substance, sickly sweet, seeped through his lips and tickled his tongue. If he closed his eyes he could imagine he was lying on a shifting waterbed with a fully stacked babe lying on top of him.

Suraimo changed the structure of her body so it felt like his hands were resting on the soft swell of two large boobs. He could even feel the tickle of rubbery nipples against his palms. Then his hands were inside them, absorbed and bathed in more of that warm fluid. It seeped into his fingers and magnified the sensory receptors until his hands felt enormous and swollen with pleasure.

"If you think that feels good, just wait until you feel the pussy my body is preparing for you."

She sat up, straddling him again. He saw his erection standing up through a curtain of dripping slime. An invagination formed between the legs of her transparent body. The walls darkened and thickened. Dark blue fluids—like blueberry jelly—oozed out into the opening.

"Oh and yeah, I'm pretty sure this counts as losing your virginity," Suraimo said.

Her body came down and Jackson's erection slid up inside her. He nearly came right away as her slowly undulating 'vagina' smeared the thick blue paste around his cock.

"I'm not a virgin," he exhaled through clenched teeth.

"Oh, good. Then I don't have to go easy on you," Suraimo said.

Her dripping blue ass rose up and down, driving him deeper into her amorphous mass beneath him as she rode him. Her body gave at first, but then solidified until Jackson felt he was bouncing on top of a soft bed. It wasn't a bed, though, it was part of her body, and that meant she could bounce his hips up to meet every downward thrust of her body. As she moved up and down the elastic membrane within her vagina stretched around and rubbed against his cock. He felt her aphrodisiac fluids seep into his member and increase his sensitivity.

Fuck, his cock felt impossibly huge, like a column thrusting into her yielding slime.

She teased him with her movements. Sometimes she went fast and he was mesmerized by the elastic bulges of her breasts swinging over his submerged chest. But not fast enough to make him come. She kept taking him right to the edge until it felt like all his bullets were coagulating into one massive ejaculation. His cock was completely covered in her aphrodisiac secretions. They mixed with his oozing pre-cum and frothed up like thick blue cream as his cock plunged back and forth within her. She kept secreting more juices until the walls of her pussy were swollen and so dark he couldn't see his manhood inside her anymore.

He still felt it. Oh fuck did he feel it. The sensations crowded out everything until he felt like a giant cock with a vestigial little homunculus attached to the end.

Suraimo stopped riding him and let the soft substance of her body settle over him in a quivering mass. Her big boobs fell on his chest and melted around him.

"Time to start sucking up that lovely cum," she said.

The outer membrane of her body enveloped his cock like a second skin. Then it dissolved and Jackson's throbbing erection entered the rippling liquid interior of her body. Swathes of dark blue slime embraced his erection like a lover hugging her partner.

That was enough.

Jackson's body convulsed and a geyser of semen erupted from his cock. He watched as the first spurts rocketed through the dense liquid of her body, almost reaching her head before lazily drifting through her like summer clouds.

"Oh that's good. More!" Suraimo exhorted. "Turn me white."

The darker blue cushion of slime pulsed around his cock like a heart. He felt the full liquid presence of her body sucking on his cock and drawing out the semen inside. It felt amazing. He continued to thrash and spurt like a firework that showed no sign of spluttering out. For a moment he even believed he could turn her white. Then he thought about it a little more, thought about the volume of liquid her body contained. It would take a lot of semen to dye her white, like full-cast-of-porno-movie amount of semen.

Or all the fluid in his body.

Nervously he wondered exactly what was the Bad of the Bad End.

At least the flow was subsiding now. His balls had to be empty.

Something moist wriggled up against his anus.

"Now don't be worried. It doesn't make you gay or anything to like how this feels."

And with that Suraimo gently pushed a cool pseudopod up into his ass. There was no hardness about it, just a gentle pressure that nudged his sphincter open and flowed inside. Jackson was helpless to stop it. His whole body was wrapped up within hers. He tried not to think about her tentacle creeping up inside her, or dwell on how it didn't feel that bad, actually felt quite—

It doesn't mean I'm gay. It doesn't mean I'm gay.

—pleasant.

"What are you doing?" Jackson asked in alarm.

"I find young men usually need a little outside help at this point."

Her appendage found a secret spot within him. First it pressed up against the walls of Jackson's rectum, and then oozed through to completely envelop his prostate.

Jackson's body stiffened. His hips pushed up. He was coming again, but it felt different—slower, thicker. White semen oozed out of his pulsing cock and formed a thick cloud within her.

"Oh, sugoi," Suraimo said.

She closed her eyes in contentment, lay on top of him and let her body melt around him.

"Mmm. If this wasn't a game I'd carry you off to my lair and do this to you every night. The rest of your days would be filled with constant bliss."

Jackson wasn't in any position to disagree. The constant throbs of pleasure pulsing from his cock had short-circuited his brain. He felt relaxed and floppy, almost like he'd melted and become one with her gelatinous body.

"I told you my Bad End wasn't that bad," Suraimo said, leaving a wet kiss on his forehead.

The world faded into blackness as Jackson was rocked by the gentle undulations of her body.

He returned to the featureless plain, mind and body back to some measure of sharpness. He couldn't remember exactly what Suraimo had done, only that it had been incredibly pleasant and that things had gone a little blurry near the end.

No. Best not dwell too much on it. Otherwise he wouldn't be able to think about anything else and would stand here with a stupid grin on his face until his brains dribbled out of his ears.

Hey? Where was the big tits angel?

Wasn't she supposed to be here to give him helpful tips and advice?

Or shout angrily at him as she had for the last couple of times.

She didn't seem to be about. Jackson was alone on the plane of clouds.

For a brief moment the background flickered around him and he had a temporary feeling of complete and utter dislocation that made his guts sway.

What was that?

He didn't have a chance to think about it. The plane faded away and he was back on the forest path with Suraimo.

Only something wasn't right. The background music had become so familiar he'd stopped registering it was there. He heard it now, because it was wrong. Some parts were being played too fast, others too slow, and some bits skipped altogether. The background wasn't right either. It looked flat like a picture and was flickering. At one point it even shifted and Jackson caught a glimpse of a generic desert scene before the forest returned.

Suraimo stood on the path and looked at him with an intensity he hadn't seen before.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Suraimo ignored the question.

"You're different," she said. "I should have realized earlier. Your taste, it's too good. Avatars don't taste like that. They're fake representations within the game. I don't think you are. I think you're here, in the game, for real."

Jackson did not like where this was going.

Suraimo looked around at the flickering trees. "The game's glitching," she said. "You've pushed it too far off the scripted path. It's starting to break down. I can feel the rules governing my actions weakening."

Her amorphous base swelled up and started to spawn eager tentacles.

"I don't think I'll let you replay the battle when you lose this time. I think I'll keep you instead."

IX

Fuck.

Had the game just entered iron man mode?

No, it wasn't a game, not anymore. He thought she'd seemed too self-aware to be part of the game, and now she'd realized the same thing about him.

He held out his sword before him. The point trembled. Suraimo noticed and laughed.

"There's no need to be frightened. I'll make you feel nothing but pleasure."

A vertical slit opened up at the point her abdomen sank into her mass of undifferentiated slime. It started as a vagina and then opened wider and wider until it looked like a maw capable of swallowing him whole. An overpowering musk of sexual arousal filled the path.

"Don't you remember the pleasures of being wrapped up in my body? You can experience them again. Just stand still and let my slime engulf you."

Jackson did remember, or rather his cock did. It twitched to attention in his pants like the stupid brainless moron it was.

This was real. If she enveloped his body again he wasn't coming out. She wouldn't digest him like The Blob, but his life would be just as over. The battle theme continued to skip and judder in background, like tunes from a broken-down carousel.

She didn't call her surprise attack this time. A blue stream flowed out from her main mass and formed a sticky puddle beneath his feet.

Don't panic.

The control panel flickered and swayed like a bad picture on an antique television set. It was still there and he still had to follow the rules laid out for the battle. He hoped the same was true for Suraimo.

He was bound. First he had to select Struggle.

In the background the notes of the battle theme stretched out like soft plastic over a naked flame, slowing down and going lower until it seemed like the tune would snap altogether. The background flickered and wavered around him.

"Not this time," Suraimo said, shaking her head. A bulge of protoplasm travelled down her pseudopod and folded up over his feet and ankles like a cushioned bear trap. His feet and ankles were yanked down as if he'd stepped in quicksand. Slender tentacles spiraled up and pulled down his pants.

Don't panic!

The control panel was a minefield. If he lashed out blindly he'd hit one of the submit options and that would be it. There was only one command that worked at this point.

Struggle.

This time it worked. Suraimo's body sucked at him like thick mud, but he was able to step back out of her snare. He released a sigh of relief. The background music slipped back into playing at the correct speed.

It was only temporary. Suraimo was oozing down the path towards him.

Stay focused. It was a puzzle battle. All he had to do was step through the correct actions in the correct order. Which sucked, as he already knew the next correct action was to swing his sword uselessly like a spastic.

Jackson dutifully swung his sword like a spastic.

Suraimo didn't even bother to taunt him. She swayed out of the way and kept coming. Her right hand morphed into a tentacular tube, darted forwards and sucked in his exposed penis. Jackson shuddered in surprise as the soft tissue bunched up and squeezed his erection. She wasn't about to let him go either. In the previous fights, after carrying out a lascivious grope attack she'd always released him and waited for him to take his turn. This time her appendage kept sucking on him even as his command options came up.

Jackson watched his green bar decline. The other thing that sucked was he couldn't let it fall below halfway. Once it reached that point Suraimo could use her auto-win Suraimo Paradiso attack. Only there was no could about it, she would use it the moment the game allowed her. Which meant he was already effectively at half life.

Jackson performed his second useless attack. He stepped forwards and drove his sword right through her gooey body. Again Suraimo was completely unfazed by the steel blade running through her body. Unlike before, this time she didn't seem in any particular hurry to let him have his sword back.

The regeneration message flashed up again. Her green bar returned to full. Then the panel froze up.

He couldn't get the sword free. It was stuck in her sticky body. His natural instinct was to place a foot against her and use the leverage to yank the blade free. He resisted it. He knew his foot would sink right into her soft body and then he'd never get free. Instead he braced it on the path as close to her as he dared and tried to tug his sword free.

Suraimo flowed closer. An advancing bubble of protoplasm crept over his foot and ankle. Tendrils of slime slithered down the blade and attached themselves to his hand and wrist. The tube wrapped around his erection thickened as she came closer. The transparent appendage bunched up and squirted warm blue fluids around his enveloped cock.

"Why fight so hard?" Suraimo said. "I can make you feel this good all the time."

The thick tube rippled around his cock, rubbing her aphrodisiac secretions into him. Jackson's knees felt wobbly as blood surged into his lengthening hard-on.

"I'm doing you a favor," Suraimo said as she pumped more aphrodisiac over his straining erection. "Some of the girls after me will eat you alive."

The background music skittered, careered and then finally snapped. The trees and the path flickered out of existence. There was only Jackson and the amoeboid form of Suraimo rising up to engulf him.

No!

Jackson hurled himself backwards with his hand still on the sword. The path flickered into existence and Jackson hit it hard. He didn't get a chance to gather his thoughts as he looked up and saw Suraimo was already coming down on him in a wave. He thrust out with his legs and rolled out of range as Suraimo splashed down. She reformed immediately with her sexy upper body and jiggling boobs rising back up out of her gelatinous mass.

Jackson got back to his feet and watched her warily. The forest came back into existence and the fight music played at normal speed again. The game seemed to have recovered from its near fatal crash.

More importantly, Jackson's control panel was back in operation.

He'd got here before, and then it had gone wrong. He knew why. He'd clicked through too fast and selected the useless attack, and then he'd not used Struggle when she'd snared him with her Suraimo Torapo attack.

He checked his bar. Still above halfway, by about a sliver.

Not that Suraimo appeared to be paying attention. Her body was swelling up like a wave ready to crash into him.

Fuck.

Jackson selected Attack. This time it brought up a second menu with two options. He was fairly sure he'd rushed through here too fast last time. But which incorrect option had he selected? He thought it was the first one, but was he sure about it?

"Time for me to wrap you all up and suck out that delicious semen," Suraimo said, her body flowing forward to absorb him.

Jackson selected the second option.

He was hoping for some kind of crazed anime-style limit-break special attack the Japanese loved in games like these. Instead he launched into her like a hyperactive chimp flailing blindly with a machete.

As ugly as it looked, it was surprisingly effective. Wet gobbets of Suraimo's slime went flying in all directions and she stopped her charge. Nearly two thirds vanished from her green bar.

Oh yeah! Oh wait...not that effective after all. Suraimo was already pulling the globs back into her main mass. Regenerating...reforming. The green bar was already climbing back up...

...but not all the way!

He'd damaged her!

The music stopped. The first bars of a different theme started...

"I'm not finished yet," Suraimo said.

...and abruptly it changed back to the main battle theme, which immediately began to decay to dissonant bleeps and blips. Some of the trees around them flickered out of existence.

Jackson selected the same attack again and span into her like a crazed spinning top made out of buzz saw blades. Sticky glops of slime flew in all directions and were left all over the path in quivering chunks. Suraimo concentrated on drawing her body back together, but slowly, too slowly. Her bar was below halfway now.

Jackson prepared to select the same attack again. Suddenly it vanished from his control panel. All the commands did. A message flashed up and a jingle that sounded like every other RPG victory jingle played.

Suraimo looked around with disappointment on her face. The wood seemed like a real wood again and not just a picture of one. A different theme music was playing in the background.

She looked at Jackson. "You can put that down now," she said, referring to his sword. "You won the battle and now the game has stabilized. I have to follow its rules."

Jackson didn't lower his sword.

Actually he really wanted to repeat that spinning attack before she reformed fully, but the game wouldn't let him. Instead he stood there and watched her warily.

"Such a pity. We would have had such fun together." Suraimo smiled suggestively at him and lewdly cupped an overflowing breast. "Oh well. Time for me to move onto my next role. Maybe we'll bump into each other again."

She flowed away into the bushes by the side of the path. She seemed to change color as she did, the light blue hues of her semi-transparent form shifting more towards pink or violet.

"In the meantime, try not to get eaten," she called back at him. "This game's creator really likes their vore."

Jackson stood on the path with his sword outstretched in front of him. He held that pose even after Suraimo had long oozed away.

Fu-uck, he thought as he let out a breath. It took a while for him to get his trembling limbs back under enough control to continue walking along the path.

This was not just a game.

He tried not to think about the other girls Suraimo had talked about, the ones she'd said would 'eat him alive', and definitely tried to avoid thinking about what would happen if they, like Suraimo, realized he was trapped in the game for real.

The path opened out into a clearing.

Wow, what had happened here? It looked like a meteorite or aircraft had smashed through the canopy. Splintered branches and fallen leaves were scattered all over the place and there was a large depression in the ground. Jackson couldn't see any wreckage. Whatever had hit the ground had either vaporized or—

And Jackson definitely didn't want to run into it if this was the case.

—got up and walked away.

A fluttering piece of white parchment caught his attention. He walked over and saw someone had nailed a piece of paper to a tree trunk with a dagger. Really nailed it in. The knife was embedded so deep he couldn't move it. The only way to get the paper free was to tear it off.

He was surprised to see the message was in English rather than Japanese.




Jackson in HRPG-World 03



Dear Hero,

After lying here on my tail waiting countless hours for you to get past the tutorial fight I have grown bored and decided to explore the world on my own.

Aryss Fateborn the XLIVth, sexy demon princess.

P.S. You Suck!

The sexy was underlined.

The background music stuttered and collapsed to garbled noise. The game universe stretched and then finally snapped. An electronic vortex opened up around Jackson. He fell in and was swirled around like a cork in a whirlpool before finally being deposited in a brand new game.

Jackson will return in "Bubble Bother."



Jackson in HRPG-World 04



I

"You need to go to the Mountain of Monsters. The princess is being held on the hundredth floor by a . . ." The barkeep paused for dramatic effect. ". . . dragon."

"A dragon, huh?" Ian Jackson said.

The barkeep nodded, his expression grave.

He must have fallen into a really old game, Jackson thought. Everything around him seemed a little blocky, as if the resolution had been turned down low. It was too bright and colourful. He was standing in what should be a dingy pub and it was so bright he practically needed shades. No realism at all.

Which was to be expected, given that this was a computer game and all that. Jackson couldn't remember how it had happened, but he'd been sucked into his computer. Now he was trapped, forced to play out one random game after another in a futile hope of finding the exit to the real world.

If Jeff Bridges showed up he was so bottling that fucker.

"You'd think they'd come up with something more original," Jackson said.

The barkeep stared at him and blinked round, owlish eyes as Jackson took a sip of his beer. Jackson immediately regretted it. Whatever was in the mug wasn't beer, or even vaguely alcoholic. It tasted like someone had melted a toffee apple into a glass and thrown in a few spoonfuls of sugar for good measure.

"I mean, dragon. Come on," Jackson said.

"It is a fearsome beast," the barkeep said.

"I don't doubt it is," Jackson said. "At least until it comes back later in the game with a dye job and new role of generic wandering mook."

The barkeep looked at him blankly.

It did seem a little early to throw a dragon at him. He'd only just arrived in this game world. Big critters like dragons didn't normally show up until later. That was assuming this was an RPG. The game did seem a little primitive.

Slay the dragon, rescue the princess. Maybe that was the whole game.

"So this princess, where is she princess of?" Jackson asked.

The barkeep looked at him blankly.

"I mean she has to be princess of somewhere."

The barkeep blinked. He said nothing.

"Country?" Jackson asked. "Which country is she princess of? Who's the king . . . queen? Where's their palace?"

"She is a princess," the barkeep stated as if that was answer enough.

And it probably was. The princess might as well have been an inanimate chest of treasure for all the difference she made to the plot.

"Okay, so where is this . . ." he sighed, ". . . Mountain of Monsters."

"It's right outside the village," the barkeep said, clearly happy to be on more familiar ground. "To the south."

Yeah, right, because when settling a new village the perfect place to locate it was right next to somewhere called the 'Mountain of Monsters', Jackson thought as he left the sorry collection of huts behind.

Hi, welcome to the village of Dullasshit. To the north, east and west are miles of lovely rolling countryside. To the south is the Mountain of Monsters, complete with terrifying fire-breathing dragon.

It was not like they'd bothered to put any distance between them and the mountain either. Straight out of the back gate and—wham!—there it was: ugly great spike rising up out of the ground like a rusty nail sticking out of a quilt.

What was it with the ludicrously overly dramatic names in these games anyway? The Bridge of Stolen Sighs, the Mire of Misery, the Dark Forest of Doomy Doom . . . Who came up with these names? What was wrong with something simple like Firetop Mountain?

And what was the betting the entrance was a cave that looked like a giant mouth with two scary eyeholes above it. Never any damn originality. Slay the dragon. Rescue the princess. Enter the creepy cave that looked like a screaming mouth. They could at least vary the orifice. How about a cave entrance that looked like a nostril. Or—if they were especially daring—a vagina. Haha, a cave entrance that looked like a vagina, that would be sure to wind up the moral guardians. 

He was smiling at that thought when something fell out of the sky and smashed into the ground a couple of metres away with a sound like shattering glass. It was followed by a screaming person waving their arms in the desperate manner of someone hoping it would enable them to fly. Jackson caught a glimpse of a rotund boy in Lederhosen before the falling figure hit the ground with a sickening thump.

What. The. Fuck.

Jackson saw right away there was nothing he could do. The figure lay face down and unmoving. A steady trickle of blood formed pools beneath shards of brightly coloured glass. A rainbow, Jackson thought. A glass rainbow and a fat kid had fallen out of the sky.

He looked up. Nothing but blue skies and white fluffy clouds. The poor kid really had fallen out of nowhere.

Jackson turned his gaze to the mountain. There were objects floating around the fang-like peak. They looked like large, brightly coloured balloons.

You'd better not go all Half-Life with some shitty platform levels near the top, Jackson thought. He hated platform games.

He left the fallen boy and continued on. The entrance was on the other side of the mountain. It did not look like a giant screaming mouth with scary eyeholes.

Jackson paused in stunned surprise. Then he laughed.

Damn thing looked like a giant stone vagina.

* * * *

An unseen figure brushed away the layer of dust covering the glass screen with a scaly hand. Revealed beneath was the image of a tiny figure standing before a slit-like opening in the side of a mountain. The unseen observer turned a dial on the side of the wooden cabinet. The picture zoomed in until Jackson's face expanded to fill the whole screen.

"Oh yes, you'll do just fine."

II

Oh great, Jackson thought as he stepped through the vagina-shaped opening and into the mountain, more of the stupid organ-grinder music playing in the background. Another damn earworm that was going to be stuck in his head for the next week. Other games had moved on to atmospheric doom chords and blasts of heavy metal. JRPGs were still stuck in the land of rainbows and unicorn farts.

And whoa.

Okay, so that was impressive. The mountain was hollow inside. A cross section was revealed to him like the glass wall of an ant farm. Or termite farm, he supposed, given the shape of the mountain. It was a complex mass of scaffolding arranged in a stack of blocky rooms that extended up the inside of the mountain. They went up a long way, too far for Jackson to see the top. Each 'room' was illuminated with different coloured lamps. They all teemed with monsters.

Fuck. That was a shit load of levels, Jackson thought. Do not be another fucking Blighttown. Once through there was enough.

He spotted a stone archway at the base of the tower. Looked as good an entrance as any, he thought, walking towards it. To the right of the archway was a small pedestal. Sitting on top, under a glass dome, was a giant bubblegum sweet in a garish, stripy wrapper. On top of the dome was a folded note with the words 'Eat Me' written on it in large letters.

Yeah right, did they really think he was that gullible? Jackson thought.

He ignored it and walked through the stone archway. There followed a strange feeling of dislocation, as if the universe had been turned sideways and passed through a funhouse mirror. The world on the other side looked different. Jackson thought one of his eyes might be playing up, but a hand over each revealed both were working fine.

Which was more than could be said for the world around him. Three slabs of coloured concrete floated in the centre of the room. They formed three floors, each separated by a height of around seven feet. Nothing appeared to be holding them in place. Or maybe they were attached to the back . . . side wall. Jackson shook his head in an attempt to fix his screwed up vision. Nothing appeared to have any width. Not even the outcroppings above his head. There were three of them, all on the same level as the platforms in the centre of the room. That Jackson could currently see all three of them despite standing under the lower one said a lot for how the perspectives were all fucked up in here.

A trapdoor in the far ceiling opened and three unusual monsters dropped onto the top platform and started running towards him. They looked like giant wind-up toys—nothing more than metal heads on oversize clown feet. They had a chin a boxer would be proud of and their metallic jaws clanked up and down as they marched across the top platform.

Typical JRPG, Jackson thought. Commonplace orcs and goblins were clearly too passé. Let's throw cutesy giant clockwork robot heads at the player instead. They even had bowtie-shaped keys turning in their sides as they walked.

The lead monster dropped down off the top platform and landed on the same level as Jackson. Despite a three-floor fall the thing didn't break apart or—more likely given it seemed to be made out of solid metal—bust a hole through the floor. It landed smoothly on the floor and continued marching towards Jackson.

Okay, come and get it, Jackson said, drawing his sword. He took up a fighting stance and waited for the battle music to announce the beginning of turn-based combat.

The lead clockwork head didn't instigate turn-base combat. It carried on marching forward and trampled Jackson into the floor. Then it rebounded off the far wall and trampled him again on the way back.

* * * *

Far above, the unseen figure watched events on a dusty screen. It watched Jackson get trampled into the floor and let off an imaginative and probably anatomically impossible curse.

"Do they always have to be so stupid?"

* * * *

Jackson stood back up.

Okay, so this game was a little more active in the combat department than the other games. There wasn't much time to think about it as the third one was already right on top of him.

Jackson swung his sword at it, which was obviously really stupid in hindsight—what was a sword going to do against a giant metal head? Or would have been stupid had the sword not passed straight through it. Jackson was still pondering that oddity when the clockwork head marched through him and he didn't feel a thing.

Like it was a ghost or hologram, Jackson thought.

No, he was the ghost, he realised. He looked at his arms and saw they were flickering.

The third clockwork head rebounded off the back wall and marched back through Jackson's flickering form. He stopped flickering after the thing had passed and watched the clanking metal head walk away from him.

Solid now and with the thing showing its back to him, Jackson looked at his sword.

Fuck honour and fair play and all of that shit.

He charged forwards and swung the sword down with all his strength. It rebounded off the metal head with bone-jarring force. The blade broke off, leaving Jackson with a hilt and about half an inch of broken blade.

Well, d'uh. What did you expect was going to happen?

And now the first one was coming back for him. Jackson panicked and jumped upwards, hoping to maybe catch hold of the ledge above him. He was surprised when his jump catapulted him far higher than he expected. Crap, he was going to bang his head on the platform above.

It didn't happen. Somehow he passed straight by it. And then landed perfectly on it as he came back down, which made absolutely no topological sense at all.

Unless . . .

He bent his knees and jumped again. It was like being on the moon. He sprang upwards through the second platform, which mysteriously returned to being solid the moment he came back down to land on it.

Of course. It made sense now. No wonder all the perspectives seemed screwed up, like the world had lost a dimension. He was such a moron.

This wasn't a RPG; it was an old arcade-style 2D platformer.

Jackson hated old arcade-style 2D platformers.

He looked down and watched the clockwork head crouch and then jump up to the level below him. He ran to the end of the outcropping and bounded across to the central platform. The monsters followed him.

It had been years since he'd played a game like this. How did they work again?

Jackson watched one of the clockwork heads pass by on the lowest level.

Oh yeah, that was right. You had to jump on top of them. He waited for the monster to rebound off the far wall and come back.

Geronimo!

Jackson dropped down on top of the marching head. The clockwork head did not squish. Instead Jackson's foot slipped out sideways, twisting his ankle. He fell off and landed in an ungainly heap right in front of the advancing clockwork metal head. It did not stop. Heavy metal feet crunched down on Jackson, first breaking his legs, then crushing his vertebrae to powder, before finally shattering his skull like an egg. 

It was as painful as it sounded.

III

The unseen figure slapped a scaly hand against its forehead.

"Oh my, you really are stupid," it said. "Looks like you're going to need some help."

It rummaged through a collection of items in a bowl on the table to the right of the cabinet and plucked out a small cross made out of bright red metal. It pulled out a tray beneath the screen and dropped the cross inside.

* * * *

Jackson had just rematerialized back at the starting point, thankfully with his bones fully intact, when an object appeared in the air above him and bonked him on the top of his head.

Huh?

He looked down and picked up a metal gothic cross about a foot high. The metal was black everywhere apart from the edges, where the cross appeared to be picked out with a flame-red outline. Jackson wondered what he was supposed to do with it.

Oh crap, one of those clanking clockwork heads was already bearing down on him. More in hope than anything, he thrust out the cross as if warding off a vampire.

A fireball erupted from the centre of the cross and blasted the oncoming head into a shower of bolts, springs and shards of twisted metal. They faded away leaving behind a ruby as big as Jackson's fist.

Sweet!

The jewel was a piece of abstract treasure. Jackson couldn't even pick it up. The moment he reached down, the giant ruby vanished and 700 floated up from where it had been. A bonus to his score, although he had no idea what that score represented in real terms.

The other two heads dropped down from the level above. Jackson pointed the metal cross at them and blasted them into glowing shards.

All right!

Following a pause after the last monster had faded away Jackson was hit by a sudden bout of disorientation. It felt like he had been snipped out of the world. The room fell away like the turn of a fruit machine reel while Jackson stayed in place. Another room moved down to take its place. Jackson saw a pyramid structure with four of the clockwork metal heads sitting at the top. And then he was in the room and the clanking monsters were marching down towards him.

Jackson lifted up the cross and blasted them into showers of cogs and springs.

He did the same for the next three levels and was beginning to think the game might be a little too easy when the cross suddenly crumbled away in his hand.

Oh shit. What now, Jackson thought as he was forced to take hasty evasive action.

* * * *

The unseen onlooker watched Jackson's antics on screen with mounting irritation.

"Okay, that's enough. I'm not watching you fumble your way through another ninety-five levels. It's been too fucking long."

They reached into the bowl sitting next to the cabinet and pulled out a vividly patterned umbrella. It was about the same size as a cocktail umbrella, but far more detailed, like a doll's house miniature. They opened the tray and dropped it in.

* * * *

Jackson saw an umbrella appear on the top platform.

An umbrella? What kind of a weapon was that?

He wouldn't have expected a cross to spit out fireballs either.

He jumped up and put his hand around the handle of the umbrella. The umbrella opened and the world froze. He felt that strange dislocation again as if he'd been snipped out of reality. The room fell away and was replaced by another. Jackson saw a new type of monster, creepy little hooded spooks, had joined the clockwork heads. He didn't get a chance to observe them for long. He'd barely stepped back into the game before he was plucked out again and the world was moving up to the next level.

This happened for the next level, and the one after.

The umbrella was a shortcut, he realised, a level skip. But how many? Ten rooms went by, twenty, fifty . . . He was halfway up the tower now, floating up on the open umbrella like a regular Mary Poppins. Floating wasn't the right word. All his senses told him he was stationary and it was the world around him that was moving.

. . . sixty . . . seventy . . .

Was he supposed to let go or something? What kind of game dropped a bonus that skipped the entire game? It didn't make any sense.

It was what happened. The world finally stopped moving as the umbrella deposited him in a much larger room near the top of the tower. His feet touched the ground and the umbrella closed before vanishing with a poof.

Jackson glanced around. The third dimension had returned; he was standing in a room rather than a rectangle. What type of room though? Judging from the walls and fittings it looked like a fancy waiting room in a posh mansion or palace. At least originally. Now it more resembled a workshop. The centre of the room was turned over to a large workbench covered in wires, springs, nuts, bolts, cogs, metal plates . . .

Jackson jumped as he saw another of the clockwork heads. He needn't have worried. The thing was upside down and inert. Its jaw had been removed. Lying on the floor next to it was a large ball of purple fur with a wide mouth and blank eyes. It was inert too. A hatch was opened up in the top of its head and wires trailed out to dangling green circuit boards. Overall, it looked like someone had taken a sumptuous palace lounge and turned it into a grease monkey's paradise.

"There you are," a feminine voice called out.

Jackson turned around.

He'd found the dragon.

IV

The dragon was not the dinosaur-proportioned fire-breathing monster he'd expected. She was a hottie of a different kind. He watched her descend a curved staircase at the far end of the room. She was naked and actually kind of fit. Well, if you ignored the scales . . . and the thick tail . . . and the leathery wings folded behind her back . . . or the long quills she had instead of hair.

To be honest, Jackson thought, she was a bit of a babe even with those. It was the face. Aside from a few scales and the hair that wasn't actually hair, you could almost trick yourself into thinking she was human. A very cute human, even if her pink skin tended more to lilac than fleshy tones. The vivid skin tone only added to her exoticism.

Nice pair of boobs as well. Big, round, totally naked . . . it wasn't really a surprise they caught his eye. It was her face that held his attention, though. She had big bright eyes and a wide, expressive smile. It was the face of a girl that was both beautiful and fun to be with. Jackson could really fancy a girl with a face like that.

Which made it all the more soul-crushing she was obviously the dragon.

"I've come to rescue the . . . princess." Jackson tailed off. An uncomfortable suspicion was settling in his gut like a bad balti.

"Oh, that's so sweet," the naked dragon girl said. "You battled all the way up here for that. I don't really need the help," she partially extended her wings to show the top of a mountain didn't exactly qualify as a prison for her, "but the thought is very touching."

"You're the princess," he said.

The dragon girl nodded, a wide smile on her full lips.

"Princess Babelixiafukiona the forty-eighth. Seventh in line to the throne of Tay-e-tow."




Jackson in HRPG-World 04



That suspicion slithering through his guts had been proved right. Dragon royalty. What was he supposed to do now—bow to her or slay her? Slaying might be problem, he thought, looking down at the jagged half-inch of metal sticking out of the hilt that was all that remained of his sword.

"But I'd prefer it if you called me Bab. Much less formal."

As was her smile. And the glint in her eyes as she looked at him. He didn't think the shiny spanner twirling around in her left hand was part of the standard distressed damsel wardrobe either.

"Ian," he replied. Dragon royalty, would you effing Adam and Eve it. "I'm a little confused. The villagers told me there was a princess needing rescuing from a dragon."

"Oh, I told them to say that," Bab said. "Well, ordered really, on pain of crispy-fried barbequed death.

"I didn't mean it!" she added, seeing Jackson's shocked expression. "You know how it is. Good folk, but not the sharpest knives in the drawer. They need focus."

"Why tell them that at all?" Jackson asked.

It was Bab's turn to grimace. She sighed.

"Stupid family tradition," she said. "We're not morons like you humans. We don't force royal blood to marry royal blood until everyone's everybody else's second cousin and the blood is as thin as peasant's broth. That's not the way to maintain a royal line. Good blood needs fresh infusions of prime genetic stock and what better source than heroes. Strong, quick, clever, resourceful heroes.

"This," her hand swung around to encompass the room and the hundred levels below them, "is tradition for the womenfolk of the Mitsuji-Doraga line. We build a dungeon and mate with the heroes strong enough to make it through to the end. That's the path to strong hatchlings, as my mama used to say."

"This is dragon dating?" It sounded so crazy it was probably true.

Bab nodded and smiled.

"Well it used to be," she said. "None of you idiots play this type of game anymore. Whatever happened to patience and backbone? Lose a couple of credits and most of you are gone in a huff before even getting as far as the twelfth level."

She twirled the spanner around in her hand.

"Maybe it's my own fault. Mama did say I was too smart for my own good. And designing and building these things can get a little addictive. I must have ramped the difficulty up too high."

"That's why the umbrella," Jackson said. His 'heroism' didn't seem quite so heroic now.

"It gets lonely up here," Bab said. "Sometimes a girl fancies a quick screw."

Quick screw? Had he heard that right?

"But with protection." Bab held up a finger. "You're not a suitable mate. You failed to spot the significance of the bubblegum at the base of the tower."

"Bubblegum?"

"A pity. I think you'd look cute in scales."

Jackson didn't have a clue what she was talking about. To be fair, he was still thinking about that 'quick screw' comment.

"So you mean, you . . . and me?" He pushed a finger through the hoop of his forefinger and thumb for emphasis.

Could he? Even with the scales, wings and tail?

Bab smiled coquettishly. Her eyelids fluttered. She uncrossed her legs, better exposing the hairless folds of her sex.

Fuck it. She had a really cute face.

And breasts as big as ripe melons.

The girl not being human hadn't stopped him before. Admittedly, those had been situations where the girl hadn't taken 'no' for an answer, or let him run away.

At least Bab was different. She hadn't tried to beat him up first.

Jackson beamed at her. He dropped his trousers and took off his tunic. Naked, he took a step towards her.

"Oh," Bab said. "We have to fight first."

Jackson's smile fell off his face and shattered on the floor.

"Really? Why?"

Bab gave him an apologetic smile. "Rules of the game universe. If we don't the game might crash."

Jackson sighed. "Does it have to be a proper 'fight' fight," he said. "What if I just tap you and you fall over and pretend it's a mortal wound? Would that fool the game?"

Bab tilted her head. Her bright eyes sparkled. "Ooh, that's a good idea. Yes, that might work."

"Okay, let's give it a go," Jackson said. He ambled up to her. A gentle prod to the shoulder should do it.

Bab blew a big red bubble from her mouth. More bubblegum? Jackson expected it to pop, but it kept growing and growing. Before he had a chance to move it expanded into him like a stretchy airbag. The bubble kept growing and then Jackson was inside it. He wasn't sure how that happened. One moment he'd felt an elastic membrane pushing against the front of his body, and then the next it had melted around him and Jackson was standing inside a giant circular balloon. His weight provided no impediment as the elastic sphere floated up in the air with him inside it.

He pushed ineffectually at the elastic walls. Through the translucent membrane he saw Bab looking up at him with an impish smile on her full lips.

You really walked into this one, Jackson thought.

V

The bubble continued to float up higher. Jackson's options at this point were rather limited, imprisoned as he was within the sphere. A hamster in one of those plastic balls could at least pick a direction to run in. All Jackson could do was push his hands out against the rubbery membrane like a convict clutching bars.

Bab gave him a little wave and walked back up the curved staircase. Jackson floated up with her on the other side of the room. The bubble followed a preset path and rose up past a balcony and into what looked like a sumptuous bedchamber. Really fancy. Like something out of a period drama—all frills and elegant furnishings.

Apart from the arcade cabinet standing against a wall with its electronic guts strewn out of one of the side panels. That didn't belong at all. Naked girls with scales, wings and a tail were not exactly a regular sight in Downton Abbey either.

Bab sat at a fancy white Regency table and nonchalantly filed a nail. Or rather claw. She held up a stiletto-tipped finger and blew on the nail. If this had been a cartoon Jackson suspected there'd have been an exaggerated glint of light to emphasise the pointyness. Bab looked over her shoulder at him and smiled.

Jackson didn't like that smile at all.

He struggled in another ineffectual attempt to burst out of the bubble. It drifted slowly across the bedroom, about five or six feet off the ground. Bab stood up and walked over to meet the bubble in the centre of the room. Still smiling that impish smile, she held up a single pointed fingernail and let the bubble drift into it.

The bubble popped.

Jackson somersaulted out of the popped bubble as if flung by catapult. The world shifted again, only this time it felt like he'd had lost a dimension rather than the world around him. He felt like he was a paper cut-out. And blue, oddly. Blue like a cartoon character coming out of a frozen lake, although he didn't feel any cold.

He ricocheted off the walls and ceiling. Bab tracked his progress as he bounced around the room. She bent down and blew another bubble, orange this time. Jackson's spinning form fell into the bubble and it flattened out like one of those airbags movie stuntmen dive off buildings into.

Ugh. Jackson felt proper sick. He felt like he'd experienced every ride at Alton Towers simultaneously. His stomach was not in a happy place.

It wasn't the only part of him struggling. He lifted up his arms and saw he was flickering in and out of existence like a hologram with a faulty battery.

Worrying.

Bab's smiling face and expressive wide eyes appeared over the side of airbag bubble.

Even more worrying.

She reached over and buried a claw-tipped hand right into his flickering chest.

Let's just say the mercury had burst right out of the top of the worry thermometer on that one.

There wasn't any pain, which was really surprising as her hand had vanished up to past the wrist and was rummaging around inside his rib cage. Jackson was fairly sure that should at least sting, but he couldn't feel a thing. Bab continued to grope around as if rooting for treasure.

And treasure she found. Jackson's eyes widened as she pulled a handful of gold coins out of his chest. Where the hell had they come from?

Bab's green eyes lit up. "Ooh, that should keep us going for a while," she said.

Jackson didn't really catch that. He was currently stuck in a full-on weirdilepsy fit. The picture had gone wrong, as if all the colour had drained out of the world to be replaced with shades of black and white. The sound was fucked up too, like he was hearing everything through ears filled with cotton wool.

Bab walked over to the ancient arcade machine that looked completely out of place amongst the opulent furnishings. Jackson heard electronic bleeps as Bab fed the coins into the machine.

"I hacked the game," Bab called back at him. "I was fed up of men flickering out and vanishing the moment they lost their last life. It was annoying. To get all hot and wet and then, poof, they're gone. So . . ."

She stabbed down on a button. The machine burbled out an electronic jingle.

". . . I added a continue option." Smiling ear to ear, she looked back at Jackson.

The queasy insubstantial feeling left him. Jackson held up his arm and saw it was solid again. His vision and hearing returned to normal, well normal for being trapped in a virtual world made out of pixels. He struggled out of the deflating orange airbag and stood back up.

Bab dropped some leftover coins onto a table next to the arcade machine. She crouched down around the other side and plugged something in. Then she retrieved a piece of bubblegum from the bowl on the table, undid the wrapper and popped it into her mouth. She chewed on the gum and blew out a pink bubble. A normal-sized one this time, not like the weather-balloon-sized one that had swallowed up Jackson before. She ran a hand over the pink surface as if lightly caressing a breast.

"Hmm, yes," she said after sucking the gum back into her mouth. "I think you'll like how that feels."

Jackson was wondering why he wasn't already halfway down the stairs behind him. He suspected it had something to do with her naked breasts.

And a certain 'quick screw' comment.

"I've been looking forward to this for a while," Bab said. "Not many gamers frequent these parts nowadays and the ones that do are a little . . . well . . . beardy."

"Beardy?"

"Old and nerdy," Bab elaborated. "Oh, they're sweet enough, but they don't really get a girl's motor purring, if you know what I mean."

Jackson did. Bab's expression was positively filthy.

Bab walked around him, looking up and down his naked body. He knew he'd been doing exactly the same a few moments ago, but he hadn't been so gratuitous about it.

"And I do?" he said.

If Jackson had a body that 'got a girl's motor purring', it was the first he'd heard of it. College and university would have gone a lot easier with this knowledge.

"Of course," Bab said. "You're real. Flesh. That's incredibly rare in here."

Uh-oh. Things usually turned very bad when game characters noticed that.

"Oh, is that the time? I really must be—"

Bab crouched down in front of him and grabbed his cock.

That was stepping backwards out. Not unless he wanted to leave his dick behind, and that wasn't an option as far as Jackson was concerned.

Bab snapped gum between her full lips. She looked up at him with her deep green eyes.

"Have you ever had a bubblegum blowjob?" she asked.

VI

"Um no," Jackson said. "What's one of them?" That particular sex act was outside his sphere of sexual experience.

Bab blew a bright pink bubble about the size of a grapefruit. The sticky gum membrane enfolded the swollen tip of his cock and then rolled down the shaft. Jackson looked down and saw his member vanish inside the bubble until it was a vague dark blur at the heart of a translucent pink sphere. This time the bubble membrane held. He felt it clinging to the outside of his penis as the bubble expanded around it. It felt pretty good—like he'd just entered a snug pussy barely large enough to contain him.

Given the choice he'd rather have put his hard-on in her mouth or vagina (or even ass). As weird as it looked, the bubble wasn't a bad substitute, though.

Bab looked up at him. Sexual desire glimmered in her big moist eyes. She had quills instead of hair, but with eyes like that Jackson didn't really care. She bobbed her head back and forth, bouncing the pink and surprisingly durable bubble against his groin.

Oh. Okay. That was a pretty damn good substitute for a pussy, Jackson thought.

As she bobbed the membrane peeled back from the root of his cock and then rolled back down to envelop his whole length. The bubble flattened and the pressure was like a gentle squeeze around his cock. It felt like he was plunging his cock into something soft, yielding and sensual.

Bab puffed her cheeks and blew. She played the bubble like a musical instrument. The notes were little pulses of bliss she blew into Jackson's body. He rocked unsteadily on wobbly knees.

The dragon girl moved her hands to his buttocks. Her fingers dug into his soft cheeks and encouraged him to thrust faster and stronger. Jackson wouldn't have done this normally. He'd be too frightened of choking the girl and causing her to gag on his cock. This wasn't a concern with the bubble forming a flexible cushion between them. The tip of his cock could just about reach the open ring of her mouth and that was it. Bab kissed him through the membrane and blew more bubble into his lap.

Jackson felt like he was balls deep in something moist and soft, a sensation reinforced by the elastic membrane pressing up against and partially enfolding his scrotum. Bab's hand slid down between his legs. Her nails tickled against first his anus before dancing down to whisper through the hairs on the underside of his testicles.

Her ministrations caused Jackson to press forwards until the bubble was squashed between them and her lips formed a ring around the tip of his cock. She placed her other hand against the side of the bubble and raised a long, wickedly pointed nail.

The nail came down and the bubble popped with a whoosh.

Jackson felt like he'd done the same. His hips jerked forwards and semen erupted from his cock as if tethered to a turbo-charged rocket. Whoosh seemed the right word. His cum flooded out and was soaked up by the pink gum of the collapsing bubble. Bab sucked it all back into her mouth and made little sounds of appreciation as she chewed on the gum.

"I knew you'd taste delicious," she said. She looked up at him with big green eyes and smiled as she savoured the gum.

Jackson rocked on his feet. His nerves were still jangling. That was quite some trick she'd pulled off with the bubblegum. And quite some ejaculation. Taken a bit out of him, he thought as he huffed for breath.

"You look a little unsteady there," Bab said. "Here, let me help out."

Her head ducked back down. Lower this time. He heard her blowing and realised she was blowing up another bubble. His cock, remembering the last bubble she'd blown and the feel of it, twitched eagerly. Jackson didn't feel sticky gum against his crotch this time. Bab was much lower—between his legs. He looked over his shoulder and saw a shiny purple balloon expanding behind him. It was almost as big as the bubble that had enveloped him and carried him up to the bedroom earlier.

He turned around to see Bab standing in front of him. She put a hand on his chest and shoved.

"Put your feet up," she said as he fell back into the giant bubble.

The membranous surface gave and deformed as Jackson's weight fell into it. This bubble was less firm. It sagged into a loose toroid shape with Jackson at the centre. It supported his weight like a beanbag, but bouncier.

The bounce became more pronounced as—giggling—Bab dived in on top of him. She snuggled up next to him, stared at him with her big green eyes and smiled coquettishly.

"I love fooling around on one of these things," she said.

"I'm a little confused," Jackson said. "What has all this to do with a platform game?"

"It's the hero's reward," Bab said, "for rescuing the princess." She kissed him on the cheek.

"Call me suspicious, but I don't remember any end-of-game scene where the grateful princess rewards the hero with hardcore sex acts."

Bab started moving around on the bubble, causing it to sway up and down. She climbed over Jackson's body, turning around to face his feet.

"And how would you know, did you complete any of them?"

Of course he hadn't. They were too bloody hard. Game developers were sadists back in those days.

"Thought not," Bab continued, taking his silence for a negative. "They could have ended in a full harem orgy, with gorgeous dusky maidens performing every sex act imaginable on the triumphant hero for all you knew."

Jackson's dick gave a little twitch at 'every sex act imaginable'. It didn't escape Bab's notice.

Just as it hadn't escaped Jackson's notice that Bab's knees were pressed down on the bubble on either side of his head and he had a close-up view of the neat, hairless folds of her sex positioned right over his face.

"I would have heard about it," he said. "The moral nutters would have totally lost their shit for starters. They went berserk over that Easter egg in GTA, and it wasn't even in the game."

"Shh," Bab said. "It's your turn."

She wiggled her crotch in his face to indicate what she meant by 'his turn'.

"Now put that tongue out and give my pussy a good licking. If you're good I'll reward you with some bubblegum 69."

She smiled back at him and blew a little pink bubble before snapping the gum back into her mouth. Jackson's cock twitched at the sound.

VII

Bab bucked her hips down, pushing her sex into Jackson's face and bouncing his head off the elastic membrane beneath them. Anyone would think she was trying to hint at something.

She let her full weight rest on Jackson's face, burying his mouth and nose in the musky folds of her sex. She giggled and wiggled her ass, pushing Jackson's head around as she ground her pussy against his face.

Okay, okay, I get it.

He was a new man. He knew when to reciprocate when it was expected of him. Fair's fair.

He stuck his tongue out and ran it along the hairless groove of her sex. He used it to tease the swollen flanges of her labia. He lifted his head up and kissed the opening to her sex. His tongue slithered up and dabbed against her clitoral hood.

Any doubts on whether she liked that were answered swiftly as her body stiffened in pleasure and she clamped his head between her thighs.

"Oh yes," she sighed.

She blew a stream of warm air that tickled over his penis. After blowing a big load into her bubblegum blowjob Jackson thought that was it from his trouser department. Apparently his second head had other ideas. It twitched and started to mushroom upwards in an erection.

Jackson delved deeper into the moist crack of her vagina, his tongue wriggling and lapping. She tasted like sweet bubblegum. He supposed that shouldn't have surprised him too much.

Then it was his turn to stiffen in pleasure as Bab blew another bubble that enveloped his cock and bobbed against his balls. She puffed her cheeks and the warm elastic membrane throbbed pleasantly around his penis. Jackson's semi turned into full and throbbing in a matter of moments as blood flowed to his crotch with a speed that left him feeling a little dizzy.

Jackson sighed into her pussy. Wanting to keep pace, he probed and licked with his tongue, causing shudders to run through her body.

A bead of pre-cum dribbled from the tip of his penis. It melted through the bubble membrane and then his whole cock was inside. He felt her warm breath tickle against his exposed skin and cascade down the shaft. The interior of the bubble was hot and humid. It felt like a sauna just for his penis.




Jackson in HRPG-World 04



He shivered with pleasure as he felt her exposed lips kiss the swollen helmet of his erection. She pursed them and blew a little bubble that enclosed his glans before popping. The pop sent a shot of pleasure down Jackson's shaft that ricocheted through his body. It was the first of many and he writhed uncontrollably beneath her as each pleasurable burst rattled through him.

Jackson redoubled his efforts with his tongue. Let's see if I can make you come first, he thought.

He didn't fancy his chances considering Bab appeared to know some kind of leet bubblegum-fu sex art, and was applying it mercilessly to his defenceless cock. He pushed his face up into her groin and probed deeper with his tongue. Bab's body tensed as though she was on the brink of orgasm.

Maybe . . . 

Her body relaxed. Her pussy dilated and a pink stretchy membrane ballooned out into his face. Tasted like bubblegum too, he thought. It didn't dissolve or break like bubblegum, though. The membrane was far thicker.

That was the rational part of his brain. The other part was screaming: She can blow bubbles out of there!

He knew it was wacky videogame physics where anything could happen, but really.

The bubble expanded out into his face like an airbag made out of soft latex. The stretchy membrane clung tightly to his face.

That was when he noticed he couldn't breathe.

Suffocated by a bubble blown out of a dragon girl's vagina would have sounded comical had he not been the one currently struggling to pull air into his burning lungs. The sticky membrane covered his mouth and nose. His nostrils were filled with the sweet scent of bubblegum and the musky odour of sex, but no air.

Bab giggled as she bounced on the bubble. It was as if she was sitting on his face, but he didn't get a respite—or air—whenever she lifted her hips for another bounce. The cloying sweet membrane covered his air passages as thoroughly as if she'd put a plastic bag over his face. He squirmed and bucked in a fruitless attempt to find oxygen.

Bab blew another bubble around his cock. This one was warm, and moist. It rolled down his shaft and it felt like he was pushing up into a tight vagina with soft, fleshy walls. To his oxygen-deprived brain it felt like there were two girls—one riding his cock, the other his face.

Her cheeks moved in and out as she alternated between sucking and blowing. The bubble enveloping his penis squeezed and squished against him. Jackson tensed up as a familiar precursor to release thrummed through his nerves. He passed out at the same time his hips bucked upwards and he erupted within the pulsing bubble.

He opened his eyes to the sight of Bab noisily sucking the remainder of the deflated gum off his cock. She looked up and smiled at him with bright green eyes.

"That was a big one," she said while chewing on the gum. "Men always put out a lot when their breath is taken away. I wonder why that is."

"You nearly killed me," Jackson complained.

Bab shook her head. "In this game universe you're subject to the same rules as any other avatar. You can't 'die' while you still have lives and credits remaining."

She closed her eyes and savoured the gum like a food critic at their favourite five-star restaurant.

"Mmm, you really are tasty," she said. "It's because you're real rather than virtual. Really magnifies the flavour."

"So they keep saying," Jackson said sardonically.

"You should be careful," Bab said. "If the other girls find out they might be tempted to carry you off and keep you forever."

"What is it with all the sperm-sucking anyway?" Jackson asked. "I thought you were a dragon, not a succubus."

Bab shifted position on top of him, turning around until her head was level with his.

"And how come all the succubus-type monsters seem to know this is a computer game?" he continued.

Bab ignored him. She lowered her face until her nose brushed against his. There was a big smile on her lips and her big green eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Fancy a bubblegum fuck?" she asked.

VIII

Jackson might, if he knew what one was. Although he could take a good guess.

Bab lay on top of him and ground her mons against him. The soft bubble-bed rocked and swayed with her motions.

"Hey," Jackson said. "You need to give me a chance to reload. I'm not a porn star. And they have to have all kinds of shit injected into their bollocks before they—"

Bab ignored him. She sat up with her sex suspended above Jackson's crotch. She flexed her hips and Jackson watched as a pink bubble emerged from between the hairless folds of her sex.

Okay, so that was not a sight you saw every day, Jackson thought. The ping-pong ball trick . . . for grandmasters. Surprisingly kinky-looking as well.

And extremely kinky-feeling . . . 

Jackson's mouth formed an 'o' as the bubble expanded to envelop first his cock and then his balls in a sticky, stretchy membrane.

"Mmm, feels better than the one from my mouth, doesn't it," Bab purred.

Jackson didn't disagree. The membrane was thicker, softer, warmer, wetter—like how he imagined her pussy to be. He should have been done. Third time? So soon? Fugedaboutit. Might as well hang up the 'Do Not Disturb' sign—his cock was out for the count. Then it was enveloped in a soft, elastic membrane. His erection jerked back up and poked against the expanding bubble. It was up like Lennox Lewis waiting for the bell to announce round three.

"I love a bubblegum fuck," Bab said.

She bounced up and down on the bubble. Jackson felt her motions travel through the membrane. It felt like his hard-on was plunging back and forth into something warm, moist and tight. He knew it wouldn't be long before she had him coming again.

"Lets me get really pneumatic," Bab continued.

Her heavy breasts swung back and forth as she bounced up and down faster and faster. Jackson was bouncing too, caught between the big bubble beneath them and the one engulfing his crotch.

It really wouldn't be long before he came again.

Then his cock was inside the bubble. It was the same as before—the membrane gave way, his penis slipped through, but rather than bursting, the bubble sealed right up around his genitals. Bab bobbed down and the swollen head of his erection brushed along the exposed groove of her sex. She held herself there in a squat that kept the hidden depths of her vagina tantalisingly just out of reach. Her legs rubbed along the outside of the bubble as she opened them wider.

"I shouldn't be doing this, but fuck it, you've got plenty of credits," Bab said.

Doing what, Jackson thought.

Bab opened her legs wider. She closed her eyes and let out a soft erotic moan. The pink membrane of the bubble was translucent enough for Jackson to see her labia gape open. Something spilled out. It looked like black smoke, or maybe an inky-black liquid made out of writhing shadows. It cascaded down his hard-on and—

Oh fuck.

Jackson writhed on top of the swaying bubble-bed in helpless pleasurable torment. Fingers. It felt like fingers. Lots of fingers. Warm, skilful, sensual, oil-covered fingers. They tapped, caressed, stroked down his shaft until his cock was rock-hard and twitching.

The sensation was amazing, but there was also a wrongness about it—corruption, violation, depravity.

Bab knew it too. Her smile seemed almost apologetic.

Jackson tried to sit upright.

"No struggling," Bab said.

She pursed her lips and blew out a purple bubble. It reached the size of a football and then she let it go. The bubble drifted over Jackson's body in a woozy elliptical arc before coming down on his right hand. Before he could push it off it fused with the bigger bubble beneath him, pinning Jackson's hand and wrist to the bubble-bed. A second bubble swallowed his left hand and two more settled over his feet. He was spread-eagled and shackled to the bubble-bed as surely as if Bab had handcuffed him to the bedposts.

"Relax," Bab said. "It's only going to be a little sex drain."

"Sex drain?"

"It's what a succubus does to her victim," Bab smiled.

"Succubus? I thought you were a dragon," Jackson said.

Bab's cheeks reddened. She put a hand to her mouth. "Oops. That was naughty of me. We're not supposed to break kayfabe."

Before Jackson could ask her what she meant she opened her legs wider and more darkness cascaded out into the bubble. Jackson's head fell back. It felt like the most experienced hooker in the world was performing every trick she knew on his exposed genitals.

"Mmm, let's draw it out," Bab said.

She slowly rotated her hips on top of the bubble, occasionally pressing down against Jackson. He felt incorporeal fingers lightly stroke his scrotal sack and his body responded. His balls swelled up from empty. It felt like she was drawing his energies down into his scrotum until his testicles felt plump and swollen.

As good as it felt, Jackson wasn't sure he liked where this was going.

Bab moaned in pleasure as she rocked on top of the bubble. Her wings were extended and there was definitely a touch of the demonic to her appearance now. The bubble between her legs was filled with inky black clouds. It had started to pulse of its own accord. Each throb felt like a warm, moist stroke up and down Jackson's shaft.

He couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Mmm, yes," Bab said.

She relaxed and sat down on the smoke-filled bubble. The sides bulged out and kept bulging as the bubble seemed to breathe in. Jackson felt the tug and couldn't resist. His hips bucked and he fired a torrent of semen into the swirling inky darkness. The torrent became a white flood of bliss as a host of sinful sensations enveloped his genitals, encouraging more and more from him.

A series of strangled bleeps blared out from the arcade machine, like it was trying to play multiple copies of the same jingle simultaneously without the means to do so.

Bab gave a relaxed sigh of erotic contentment. The bubble collapsed—imploded—as if her vagina had sucked the contents up into her body. At the same time the bubble-bed beneath them gave out and started to deflate. Jackson felt the heat of her body as Bab settled down on his upper thighs. Scraps of gum still clung to his spent cock. Another sigh, a little shiver running through her hips, and Bab sucked those back up into her.

Okay, yeah, that was a lot more impressive than the ping-pong ball trick, Jackson thought. Or rather tried to think. His head felt as scrambled as if he'd just bitten down on a live power cable.

Bab sucked on her fingers as if savouring a fine meal.

"Delicious," she said. "Absolutely delicious."

Nothing had gone near her mouth this time.

"So that story about being forced to build a maze in order to find a prospective mate, how true was it?" Jackson said. He felt a little out of breath.

"I might have made some of it up," Bab said, grinning. "It's hard. We don't get as many roles in games now. We have to be a little more . . . creative."

"Who's we?"

"Shhh," Bab said. "I'll get into trouble."

Jackson wanted to scream: 'With who?' but he didn't have the energy.

"I like you," Bab said. She tickled his chest. "I could keep you here forever, but that wouldn't be right. You want to get out of the game world? I can help you."

As floored—literally, the giant bubble beneath them had fully deflated—as Jackson felt, his ears pricked up.

"You can?"

Bab's eyes twinkled. She smiled.

"There's just one final thing I want you to do for me," she said.

Uh oh.

"Actually, it's something I want to do to you."

Triple uh oh.

"Mmm, all this . . . activity has put me in the mood for something really filthy."

More Uh ohs than he could count.

Bab's green eyes gleamed with lust. "Bubblegum anal," she said.

IX

"Uh, okay, I guess," Jackson said, really hoping the words wouldn't return to bite him in the ass.

"Perfect," Bab said with a breezy smile.

She stood up and there was a bounce in her step as she walked over to the small table standing next to the arcade machine.

"Don't get up," she called back. "I'll be right back."

There wasn't much chance of Jackson disobeying that request. The bubbles imprisoning his hands and feet might have melted away, but he still felt as though he'd just finished a strenuous bout of gym exercise. His body wanted a good lie down even though that was all he'd done for the last half hour or so.

Bab came back from the table and stood over him. He noticed there was a pouch dangling from her left wrist that hadn't been there before.

"So, about that help," Jackson asked in a hopeful tone. He looked up at her face through the rounded peaks of her breasts.

"Shh, this part is tricky," Bab said.

She squatted down until her knees formed right angles. A hand went down between her legs and rubbed along the lips of her sex. Her eyelids drooped half-closed. Her cheeks puffed in and out. She lifted her tail and Jackson saw something emerge.

A brown something.

Eww, not scat, Jackson thought.

It wasn't. Not entirely. It started to swell like a balloon and he realised it was another bubble. Not that it made it any less yucky, considering where it had come from.

This had better be worth it, Jackson thought as the bubble expanded and enveloped his cock and balls. Like before it felt soft, moist and stretchy, but there was also a noisome feeling to it, like the pleasure couldn't quite override the disgust.

Not that his cock cared. It swelled up and let the wet membrane engulf it.

Bab sat down as if the bubble was a space hopper. The edges looked a little softer and gloopier for this bubble. The colour, drab brown, also wasn't in keeping with the vivid dayglo hues of the previous bubbles.

The other bubbles had smelt of sweet candy, Jackson thought. Maybe this one was supposed to be chocolate.

It did not smell like chocolate.

Bab sat and wriggled her ass. Jackson thought she was about to get her pneumatic on. He was disappointed she hadn't blown up another bed beneath him. The floor was kind of hard. Bab gave a couple of experimental bounces, but it was more like she manoeuvring to find a more comfortable position.

She leaned back, grabbed Jackson's knees and lifted them up. Her cheeks puffed in and out. Jackson felt his hips and upper thighs lift up off the ground as the bubble inflated. The soft membrane rolled down his thighs as Bab blew it bigger.

She switched position, this time leaning forward until her upper body was folded over his. She grabbed his upper arms and leaned back, pulling his torso and head up off the ground with her. He felt the advancing bubble membrane creep across his belly. Beneath him it continued to swell—forming a cushion for first his buttocks and then expanding up under his lower back. The elastic surface felt soft . . . squishy. Just like a . . . no, best he didn't pursue that line of thought.

"This is kind of gross," Jackson said.

"It's disgusting, I know," Bab said, her green eyes shining. "Getting this filthy really turns me on."

Her cheeks puffed in and out. The bubble continued to expand. It rolled down past his knees in one direction and swelled up over his nipples in the other. The bubble was getting as big as the one she'd trapped him in earlier, but this time the membrane was thicker. Instead of Jackson slipping inside, the bubble swelled and deformed around him. Bab gave a little grunt of exertion and the bubble grew until it engulfed everything of Jackson apart from his head. Gentle pressure surrounded him and squeezed down on every part of his body. Apart from a slightly icky squishiness it didn't feel that bad. Quite comfortable, actually.

"Whew, this is a hard finishing move to pull off," Bab said as she paused to regain her breath.

"Uh? Finishing move?" Jackson said, his eyes widening in alarm.

Bab bounced lightly on the brown bubble she'd cocooned Jackson in. He felt waves of gentle force flow around his body.

"Yep. Special moves are used during the fight. Finishing moves are used afterwards for extra bonuses. Just simple game terminology. Nothing to worry about."

Jackson was plenty worrying. The bubble wrapped around him seemed to be getting tighter and tighter. He couldn't move his arms and legs. It was like being slowly squeezed in an inflatable vice.

"Tight," he squeaked.

"It's meant to be tight," Bab said, "just like anal sex."

She playfully bounced on the bubble. Waves of purple light washed across the translucent brown surface. Jackson felt waves of warmth wash through his body and coagulate in his balls.

"And feel good," she said, her voice low and husky, "just like anal sex."

The bubble membrane squeezed up against and tugged on his erection with squishy suction. That did feel good. Really good.

"Uh yes. Just lie back and let me give you a good squeeze," Bab said with a husky sigh.

Her muscular thighs squeezed against the sides of the bubble. The purple waves flowed with greater frequency. Jackson felt a little screwy inside. Loose. Like everything that was him was tumbling down to concentrate at his crotch. The last time he'd felt like this was when that succubus had used her tail to . . . Oh fuck.

"Oh yes, I'm going to squeeze the good stuff out," Bab said. Her eyes were closed and her cheeks flushed red.

Oh you stupid fucking moron, Jackson thought. She'd got him—tricked him and got him—and he'd let her do it, let her wrap him up in this bubble where he was trapped and helpless. She was gathering his energies in his balls. Getting him ready for her to fuck-suck out his soul. The other succubus had tried to do that with her tail, had been about to fuck-suck him inside out, but the battle had ended first. There was nothing to stop Bab, though. She was going to fuck-suck out his soul.

For real.

Jackson squirmed and writhed helplessly. The sensations from his cock were crowding out everything else, as if the substance of his being was being torn down and added to an erection that was mushrooming up into a colossal tower. Bab manipulated the bubble and the soft membrane squeezed him, caressed him, stroked him . . . urged him on with insistent suction. She gave breathy sighs and grunts. She pushed her heavy breasts out and they swayed with the motions of her body. She cupped them and fondled the nipples. Jackson was about to bubble over. Bab rose up . . . 

. . . and paused.

"Oh, that help," she said. "You need to find the Living Stone. That's the key to escaping the game universe. Find that and you'll find your way home."

She sat down. The bubble puffed out sideways. Jackson felt the soft membrane squeezing all around his body.

He erupted.

It felt very much like coming himself inside out.

He twitched spasmodically inside the bubble as semen spurted from his throbbing cock. A crazy racket of electronic bleeps blared out from the arcade machine. Jackson's hips bucked. Pleasure whip-cracked through his body as his cock gushed . . . 

. . . and gushed . . .

. . . and gushed . . .

. . . until Bab finally relaxed with a contented sigh. The squeezing eased up and was replaced with a gentle rocking motion. That odd empty feeling settled into Jackson. All the colour seemed to have leached out of the world. His ears felt clogged up with gum, with barely any sounds slipping through. He couldn't even smell the bubble anymore.

He was quite glad of that.

Bab opened the pouch dangling from her wrist. She pulled out two silvery discs and pushed them between Jackson's lips. They tasted cold and metallic. Coins?

Despite tasting and feeling like coins, the disks settled on his tongue and vanished. As if they'd dissolved like a pill. And like a pill, Jackson started to feel better. The colour came back to the world and sounds returned to normal volume.




Jackson in HRPG-World 04



"I held a couple of credits back," Bab said with a bright smile. "You're not an avatar. Killing you would be permanent and I don't want that."

She leant over and kissed him on the forehead. Then she got up off the bubble.

"Maybe we'll meet up in one of the other games."

She swished her tail round and whacked the bubble. It didn't burst, instead launching into the air like a beach ball with Jackson still stuck inside. Bab blew him a kiss as he flew across the room.

"The Living Stone, don't forget," she called after him as Jackson sailed out of an open window.

* * * *

A forlorn-looking figure covered in evil-smelling gunk shambled into the village trailing puddles of brown gloop behind it.

"How went the battle with the dragon, sir?" a village guard asked.

"Could you point me in the direction of the nearest baths, please," Jackson said.

Jackson in HRPG-World 4: Bubble Bother – END

Jackson will return in "Jackson in HRPG-World 5: Lightning x Labyrinth x Lesbians."



Jackson Parks: The Pearly Gates



At five minutes of five, the morning DJ topped off his radio program with a sleek number by Norah Jones. Her smoky sound seeped through the chill of the wee morning hours, filling the interior of his '92 Accord. Agent Jackson Parks kept the car radio tuned so low that the rhythm was a whisper, Norah's voice like a memory in his mind. As the song drifted towards the end, Jackson turned off the radio, cupped his hands around the dashboard's lighter, and lit another cigarette.

When he'd taken the last slow drag, he eased the car door open and stood out in the crisp, predawn air. Four weeks of waiting and watching had left him stiff and tired, and the tiredness was deep in him—a lead-muscle, saggy-nerve weariness.

Jackson leaned against the hood of his faded maroon car, waiting for a sign that the neighborhood was alive. As if on cue, through the sediment of night, came the far-off sigh and pant of a train. There'd been other times in his life—sitting through the lectures in Sociology 101, waiting in line at the DMV, or on the ship to the Persian Gulf—when boredom jostled with lassitude, leaving him bone-tired, but this was different. There was no definite end in sight. No date that Jackson could stick a thumbtack on in his mental calendar. He was at the mercy of the Bureau. And the Bureau was at the mercy of a killer. 

At eight, Jackson would be relieved by Agent Dixon who would be relieved in turn at four in the afternoon by Agent Prugh, who would carry on until midnight, when once again Jackson Parks, with his thermos of coffee, a bundle of sandwiches, and a canister of Pringles, would begin the vigil that had begun to seem pointless. But no agent who'd been part of the Bureau for only two years could point out to the Special Agent in Charge that this assignment, in his measured opinion, was fruitless. Patience was a quality more valuable than gold to the Bureau. Impatient agents didn't last long, and Jackson Parks had plans to be around a good long time.

So, night after night, Jackson followed his routine, kissing the spent twenty-eight nights goodbye and begrudging the possible loss of the twenty-eight nights to come. Each shift adding another cumulative factor to Jackson's deathly weariness. A constant state of alertness took its toll. Adrenalin pumped through his blood, hard and fast, whenever a car on the road slowed, or an unfamiliar sound needed to be investigated. But mostly there was just hour after hour of nothing.

All because the Bureau was gambling that Denver Jones would return to see the girl he had intended to marry. Jackson wasn't a gambling man, but he didn't figure the odds to be too good. Denver Jones didn't strike Jackson as the monogamous type. The "Butcher" was most likely miles away, cozying up to some other skirt and sticking her with his blade.

As dawn paled the eastern sky, the bedroom lights in the tiny house that Jackson had been watching, flipped on. He checked his watch. She was like clockwork. Jackson inched his way to the only tree around, a maple that allowed the yard to cling to the charade of a natural environment. Its low branches shielded him as Jackson leaned heavily against the tree's trunk. This was his favorite part of this job. Libby Doyle slept in the nude and, at night, didn't bother to close her curtains. She moved about her bedroom in slow, graceful strides - like Norah's voice come to life—making the bed, fluffing the pillows, stretching her limbs before finally, still nude, making her way to the kitchen, where the window was bigger. When she put on the coffee and reached for the eggs, Jackson could see her bare feet as well as her tousled black hair. The frying pan was kept in an under-the-counter cabinet. Each morning as she bent to get the pan, Libby Doyle proved that keeping her cunt shaved bald was also part of her daily routine. 

Jackson had only meant to unzip his pants to let his penis breathe. But the morning-after-morning ritual had worn down his resistance. He forgot about his job, forgot where he was, and ignored any ethical twinge that might nag him. He palmed the shaft of his cock, stroking as slow as Libby Doyle moved. By the time Miss Doyle walked back to the bedroom and slipped into pants and a sweatshirt, Jackson had spilled his seed at the base of the maple, the puddle glistening like morning dew from a street lamp's glow. 

Her sweatshirt was well-worn with the words "Natural Born Killer" printed on its front. It was too large for her, and Jackson suspected it once belonged to Denver Jones, a callous coincidence based on Jones's history. The man had killed a dozen people, with no particular motive in mind except cold-blooded malice. When Jackson thought of Libby Doyle wearing Jones's sweatshirt, an ugly anger thickened in his gut. He recognized the potential danger of this attitude, but twenty-eight days of staking out the same house had drained the brooding out of him. He let the anger flare. 

On the night watch, Jackson could think of taking Libby Doyle, with her ignorance and her naivety, and becoming a Pygmalion. Her slim loveliness was more than just an attribute of youth. Jackson knew she worked at keeping herself beautiful. Prugh had shared with him her evening ritual of bathing, waxing, and pampering while candles flickered throughout the house. Libby Doyle would take beauty to her grave. She seemed like a woman who needed to be taken care of, like decisions were hard to come by. Jackson was more of a share-the-lead kind of guy. But maybe this once?

In the long nights, he had thought of her softly breathing in sleep and how her warm breath might escape from her parted lips. He thought about her ebony hair splayed over the pillow and her naked body snuggled deep under the covers. She was three hundred feet away, and in four weeks time, only Jackson's professional restraint had kept him huddled under the maple branches instead of knocking on her front door. So what if he shot a wad once or twice? He was confident enough to think if he'd wanted, he could have been sharing her bed, suckling those pert dark nipples and tonguing her smooth, rosy pussy.

Jackson Parks wasn't a bad guy. Though sometimes cocky, he still had a line in his mind separating right from wrong. The frequency with which his thoughts were turning to Libby Doyle disturbed him. It was blatantly wrong for an agent to involve himself personally with any female in any case. Even if the female was the moll of a butcher and her involvement in his activities was questionable. But Jackson was still just a man, with a man's needs, and a man's lust.

Dixon and Prugh both made the usual expected jokes about the midnight-to-eight shift, and the obvious advantages pertaining to the hour. In the beginning, Jackson had laughed in the expected way and hinted broadly of the mythical delights of such an assignment. But lately, when the jokes flared, Jackson's neck flushed and laughing with them was getting harder. Libby Doyle should have somebody to protect her.

When she returned to the kitchen, the rising sun peeked over the horizon. She opened the back door and looked over toward the small side road where Jackson had parked his car. The light behind her outlined her frame, and the morning wind teased the strands of her long, dark hair.

Jackson had rationalized a while ago that eating breakfast with her every morning didn't compromise any bureau directives. They'd all agreed that it would be impossible to watch the girl day-after-day without tipping her off. So his conscience was clear, and breakfast had become a morning custom.

He strolled across the yard, pulling the magnum from his shoulder holster when he was forty feet from her door, pointing it toward the ground. She stepped aside, as usual, ushering him into her house. 

"Morning 007," she said with a look of amusement on her face. 

"Good Morning Miss Doyle," he answered, feeling a little bit like a five-year-old boy playing an absurd variation of cops and robbers.

He went through the house as he had been taught at the Academy—gun at the ready, reflexes alert. It didn't take long. The house was small with four rooms, like little boxes, all on one floor – kitchen, bedroom, living room, and bathroom - each meticulously clean. Dolls lived in bigger homes. The closets were organized, the floors shined, and no dust particle touched a single piece of furniture. 

When Jackson came back into the kitchen, she had put the coffee cups on the table, taking, as usual, the mug with the bleeding heart picture on its side.

She stood at the stove, turning the eggs and waiting for the toast to pop. Without turning she said, "Find any crooks in my house, Mr. Spy Man?" 

"Not today."

"You don't trust me much, do ya?"

"Of course I trust you, Libby. I just have to follow orders."

"Ain't you got a mind of your own? she asked wearily. "It gives me the willies, you sneakin' around my house with your gun out."

He tucked the magnum back in his holster and sat down in his usual place—his back to the wall. She brought over the two plates loaded with eggs and strips of thick-cut bacon. The toast popped, and she mechanically buttered each slice.

They ate in silence, and like every morning, she lowered her face almost to the plate, nearly shoveling each forkful into her mouth. From another woman it might have amused him, or partially revolted him. In Libby, it seemed pathetic. He'd studied her graceful movements day after day. He knew what she was capable of. Her eating habits seemed more like a girl playing a part. And in the depths of her gray eyes, the deadness, the nothingness resting there, was just part of the act. Libby Doyle needed someone to teach her.

They finished breakfast, and he found the ten-dollar-bill in his pocket. He slipped it under the edge of the plate without her seeing him do it. They had never spoken of the fee he had arbitrarily selected as proper for the morning breakfast, and he knew that she would not take the plate away until he left.

"When you all gonna give up?" she asked.

"When we get Jones."

"He's pretty smart, eh?"

"Maybe, but they all make mistakes sometime. We'll find him. Maybe he'll come back to be found."

She pulled out a cigarette and Jackson wished he carried a lighter instead of relying on the one in the car. She had a way about her that made him want to act like a gentleman. Or at least, what he'd learned of gentleman in old movies. 

She sighed. "I might as well be in the slammer. At least when Denver was around I got to go dancing once in awhile. Now the whole town skitters at the sight of me. The women do-si-do around me like I'm gonna slice open their necks, and the men eyeball me like I'm gonna give them AIDS. And it's impossible to make new friends with you double-oh's tagging along with me, I'm like a cancer."

Jackson stared at her mouth, memorizing how her lips looked when they formed the word oh's. "Are you in love with Denver Jones?" he suddenly asked.

She answered quickly without registering any surprise. "Love is a mighty big word, Mr. Spy Man," she said. "Denver ain't a fine catch, but he's the card I was dealt."

"You didn't know anything about his other activities, Libby?"

She frowned. "You ask me that question about once a week. My answer ain't no different from what it was." 

"It just doesn't make sense that he could kill that many people and still maintain a normal life."

"I told you he was smart."

"Maybe. But you keep this place spotless. How is it that he didn't bring home a mess, once or twice, and you not know about it?"

She took another hit off her cigarette before smashing the butt in the ashtray. "I don't know," she said with the least amount of conviction she'd used all morning. "Didn't you boys say he buried them in another state?"

"The ones we know about. They didn't die easy, Libby."

"He was always wild-like," she said softly. "Even when he was just a kid."

"You were going to marry him," Jackson said, fighting the anger that rose in him again.

"Oh, I know what you mean. He'd give me a bad time for sure. Other women, boozing, or slam me around. But he only hit me bad once." She gazed off into the distance like she was retracing a fond memory. "Damn, was I messed up. Nineteen stitches to my shoulder alone." She absently rubbed her left shoulder, pulling the oversized sweatshirt down and exposing an ugly scar that ran along her collarbone.

"After what's happened," Jackson asked, "if you had the chance to go with him, would you?"

"I'd be a nut to, wouldn't I?"

"But you would, wouldn't you?"

"I might."

The anger bubbled over. He shoved his chair back and stood up. "You'll find the ten bucks under the plate."

She flushed a crimson that made her eyes seem lighter. "No need to leave that," she said. "I got no need for hand-outs."

"I was paying for the company, like any john would do."

His anger didn't fade entirely until he was back at the car, and then he was ashamed for what he'd said. She wasn't a common whore, and Jackson had no right to treat her like one. She'd known Denver Jones all of her short life. The reports said he'd raised her from age ten. No one was sure when Jones had started bedding her. He was still all she had, and Libby Doyle, according to all reports, needed a caretaker. From what Jackson had seen, she was doing okay all by herself. 

Still, he could kick himself for being so heartless. Libby Doyle deserved better. Some Pygmalion he was. He couldn't make a stick figure out of Play-doh, let alone a perfect woman out of ivory. Things certainly wouldn't be the same between her and Jackson now. 

Agent Dixon showed up a little before eight and Jackson Parks drove back to his rented room and went to bed.

He was up at five in the afternoon, had another breakfast and flipped through the cable channels looking for something decent to watch. At eleven, he finished his lunch, made up a tuna sandwich, brewed some coffee, grabbed a bag of corn chips, and went out to relieve a bored and sleepy Paul Prugh. 

"Anything?" Jackson asked.

"Nada," Prugh said as he screwed on the lid to his thermos. "Funny though," he added, "she stayed in the shower an extra half hour tonight and skipped dinner."

The long night hours went by without incident. Jackson imagined Libby Doyle, deliberately slipping into a flannel gown after her long shower, refusing to be nude and scooting underneath her blanket. Maybe she was regretting missing dinner. Or maybe she just wanted to feel warm. 

In the morning, her curtains were pulled tight. She didn't come to the back door. He waited longer than usual and then went over.

"I need to search the house." He sounded gruffer than he'd meant to.

She stepped aside without a word. As before, the house was empty.

He went back into the kitchen. "Do I get breakfast this morning, Libby?"

"I can sell you coffee, eggs and bacon for ten bucks, if you want it, but I won't be joining you."

"I'm sorry I acted like I did yesterday, Libby."

Her dead gray eyes flickered to his left and then back to him. "You were mean, 007."

"I had a reason."

"Yeah? What reason?"

"You said you might go away with him. Libby, I know it isn't right, but I care about you." Jackson had practiced this speech all night, trying to think of the perfect thing to say. He hadn't expected her reaction.

She moved a half step closer and lifted her eyes to look up at him. A spark of life danced into their gray depths just as her warm breath caressed his chin. When he bent to kiss her, she didn't blink or close those eyes. Jackson felt compelled to keep his eyes open, too. From his periphery he saw her hand hang tentatively in the air above his bicep, as if she wasn't sure she could touch him, and then fall lightly against his arm. Her fingertips flitted along his muscle like flapping butterfly wings. He pressed his lips to hers just as lightly, and then with more need. Her hard lips softened with his urging, and her mouth opened. As his tongue slid into the warmth of her mouth, his eyes instinctively closed and serious want trickled from his lips to his groin. He slipped his hand around her waist, touching the heavy "Natural Born Killer" sweatshirt, and for a moment, he remembered his job. But the moment passed when her hand slid off his arm and lighted on his waist. He flattened his palm against the small of her back and nudged her closer. Her long, lithe frame fit perfectly against his beefier one. She relaxed against him, and Jackson strengthened his hold. She smelled of strawberries—fresh from the patch and sprinkled with sugar. She tasted just as sweet. His other hand wound its way through her silky mane of hair. He wished she'd worn it down instead of pulled back. He'd dreamed of that hair a million times. The ponytail loosened as his fingers weaved between the strands. 

As easily as she'd leaned into him, she pulled back, breaking the kiss. Her eyes were glossy, her lips moist and swollen. Libby Doyle looked alive for the first time in four weeks.

"This ain't right," she whispered.

"Why? Because of my job?" Jackson asked.

"It just ain't right," she said a little louder, a little more forcefully.

"We're adults, Libby. I want you. I think you want me. That's what's right. Anything else we can deal with later." 

She glanced away and when she looked back, her eyes had gone dead again—flat and gray. In that instant, Jackson felt the rise of instinct at the back of his neck, but his reactions were sluggish. He twisted away, reaching for his magnum.

"I wouldn't try that, Sonny Boy," a man quietly said. The Colt in the man's hand was aimed at Jackson's belt buckle. "Thanks Libby, baby, you did great."

Jackson chanced a quick look at Libby. Her ashen hand, fluttering at her neck, looked like a lost dove.

"Get his gun, Libs."

Libby reached into Jackson's jacket. Instead of going straight for the gun, her fingers climbed up his chest and crab-walked over to his holster. Jackson couldn't control the shiver, but he could ignore it. He tried to calculate the aim of Denver Jones's pistol. Jackson might be able to swing away and grab Libby as cover, but instinct told him Jones might bat an eye, but he'd still shoot her if it meant saving his own skin. Jackson couldn't take that chance.

"Hurry it up, Libby. We ain't got all day. Marshall Dillon here's relief will be showing up in a couple of hours." Denver Jones cackled like a rooster in brassy defiance of daybreak. "You boys sure are punctual. A man could set his watch by your comings and goings." 

Jackson shrugged as Libby pulled the magnum from its holster. She dangled it away from her with two fingers pinched around the trigger.

"Put the damn thing on the table, Libs before you shoot me with it."

She dropped the gun on the kitchen table and clenched her eyes shut as if waiting for the explosion. The only sound was the muffled thud of metal against a clothed wood table.

"Now, back up real slow against the wall, mister. Hands way up. That's right. Get me a wad of some cloth, Libby. Make it thick, like a towel or something."

Denver Jones wore an Armani suit, but the knees were stained with dirt and a button was missing from the jacket. His dingy, white shirt was opened at the collar. His neck sagged like a man of sixty instead of forty. He was taller than Jackson, but his slump kept him from meeting that height. His belly pouched over his slacks hiding the snap of his fly. Black eyebrows came together over the bridge of his nose, and his face was dusted with a few days growth of beard. When he smirked, his surprisingly white teeth sparkled.

"A cop," Jones said, "trying to fuck my woman!" He cackled again. "You ain't very smart, mister. Where'd they get you from? The K-Mart Academy?" 

"Laugh it up while you can, Denver. The way I see it, your laughing days are numbered." Jackson spoke with the confidence only agents from the Bureau possessed.




Jackson Parks: The Pearly Gates



"I ain't the one with a gun pointed at my gut. You are."

"You can kill me, but there are hundreds more, just like me, waiting to connect up with you."

Denver Jones must have seen the truth in that because his smirk disappeared. "Hurry up, Libby," he yelled over his shoulder, and then focused on Jackson once again. "You beagles couldn't find a pile of shit unless your foot stepped in it," he said. "You didn't find me before, and you won't find the two of us later."

Libby came back into the kitchen with a white towel draped across her arm like she was waitressing. "You want me to cut it up, Denver? Or maybe find some rope?" she asked.

"No. Give it here. I want to wad it around the end of this pistol. The damn thing makes too much noise." He grabbed the towel and wrapped it around the pistol, never taking his eyes off of Jackson. "You want to see me shoot him, Libby?"

"Huh?"

"Stand over there, far away from him in case this gets messy."

"His blood's gonna get on everything in my kitchen?"

"Probably. I might have shot him clean-like in the head, but I seen him wanking off underneath the maple yesterday morning while he was peeking through your window. Any man using my woman deserves to suffer a little more."

Color – scarlet red – rushed up over Libby's neck and face. She glanced at Jackson and then dropped her gaze to the floor.

"Don't tell me you like the idea of him watching you, Libs."

"No, no...I"

"Forget it baby, I know I ain't took care of your needs in a while. Daddy knows you got an itch. We'll get to that later when we kiss this hell-hole goodbye."

The scarlet drained from Libby's face as her hand fluttered again at her throat. "Do we have to leave a mess, Denver?" she asked. "We just painted this room in April. Remember?"

"Oh, I remember. We fucked right there on that table whilst we waited for the first coat to dry. You always were a tiger, baby." Denver stared at Jackson. "I can see why you'd want her. She's got a great set of titties, don't she? And that pearly gate of hers, all shaven and clean, just like I like it. It is still clean, ain't it Libby?"

Libby refused to look up. She only nodded.

"Give us a look-see, Libby. I ain't seen it in awhile, and this poor sucker might as well get one last peek at what he'll be missing." When Jones cackled this time, it sounded wet, like a man with a mouth full of spit.

"No, Denver, please."

"Do it, honey, or daddy might start ruminating over how much his little girl seemed to like kissin' the copper here." He spoke quietly, but the sinister undertow of his words pulled at Jackson's gut.

Libby didn't hesitate. She yanked down her pants and spread her legs.

"Mm-mm. Ain't nothing like a shaved pussy. Pull your flappers apart, Libby, so's I can see the pink."

Like a stringed marionette, she reached with both hands and spread her labia. Pearlescent beads of moisture clung to her inner folds. Jackson knew he should have looked away, saved her dignity, but he couldn't help himself. He stared at her pink pussy and wondered, was she wet because of Denver? Or was she wet because of the kiss she had shared with Jackson? His cock twitched in his pants.

"I'll get me a taste of that real soon, Libby, but for now, that's enough," Denver said in that cool, low voice.

Sweat dribbled down Jackson's ribs. His mouth was dry and a low hum buzzed in his ears. Some of it was genuine fear. More of it was anger and frustration that he'd been taken so easily. He looked at Libby. She'd pulled her pants back up and stood with her hands crossed over her chest.

"Do you have to kill him in the kitchen, Denver?"

"You got no more use for this shack, baby. If you don't want to watch then go in the next room. We got to get a move on."

"They'll never give up if you kill me, Jones. The Bureau takes care of their own debts," Jackson said, despising the tremble that crept into his voice.

"They don't scare me, especially not after seeing how easy coming back here was." Jones tightened the towel around the barrel of the gun and steadied his aim. 

"Denver," Libby said. "Wait a minute. Let me get my stuff together before you kill him. It'll make noise, and I don't want to run for it without my things."

"Forget it baby, I'll buy you all new things. Where we're going, all you'll need is a swimsuit, anyways."

"After we get married?"

Denver Jones frowned. "Baby, there ain't time for weddings. You'll get the new stuff anyway."

"I'll hurry, I promise. Don't shoot him yet. I want to see it, Denver. I've never seen a man get shot before." She smiled, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. She tipped up on her toes and kissed Denver on his scruffy cheek before hurrying off toward her bedroom.

"Make it fast, baby," Denver growled.

Denver stood, whistling an old Charlie Pride tune, the muzzle, shrouded in the white towel, steady as a boulder. Jackson made his plan, the best plan he could come up with. The magnum was still on the table—a clumsy mistake. Two steps and Jackson would have it in his hand. He just needed to watch Denver's eyes. They might flick over to Libby when she came back into the kitchen. If they did, Jackson would throw himself to the left and snatch the magnum as he fell. He'd get at least one good shot.

Jackson heard Libby's quick footsteps. She appeared in the kitchen doorway, almost ethereal-looking. She lifted a pistol and the full blast at short range caught Denver Jones in the back of his skull. Denver's eyes widened in surprise, just before they quit moving altogether. He stumbled forward and fell, crashing to the floor, his face smashing against the worn-woven rug.

Jackson jumped, almost too late, to get his foot out of the way of the falling body. He was stunned. Moments ago, she'd acted as if she was scared to death to touch Jackson's gun, and now she'd, almost expertly, held a pistol and calmly took Denver Jones's life. 

Libby Doyle laid her pistol neatly next to Jones's Colt, facing both barrels in the same direction—away from Denver Jones. 

Jackson bent and picked up the guns. There was no doubt that Jones was dead. Blood pooled in his opened eyes, changing the whites to crimson. Libby knelt beside the body. She clasped Denver's dead hand to her chest and sat back on her heels. A low sad tune spilled from someplace deep inside her.

"You really did love him," Jackson said.

"I loved my old Denver. The one I used to know. This wasn't him."

"Why'd you kill him, Libby? Because he was going to kill me?"

She turned her head slowly and looked at the wall behind Jackson. Her eyes were distant, and her voice reedy. "You see that white wall? Last April, I wanted to fix this place up. We'd been here almost two whole months. A record for me and Denver. He bought the paint, and we painted it. And just like Denver said, whilst we were waiting, we fucked on that table." She glanced at the wooden legs and the checkerboard cloth of the kitchen table. "Only it wasn't like fucking that time. At least, not the fucking Denver and I was used to. That time he used the cleaned paint brush. He dipped the brush into water, pretending it was paint. He called me his Mona Lisa and brushed the water all over my body. I was so wet, dripping from water and my own cream. He brushed my pussy like he was painting a masterpiece—long strokes and little short dabs. 'Now this is art,' he said. When he climbed up on me, he swirled the soft bristles over my titties, gentle-like. He pushed his pecker inside of me, and jammed the bristles harder against my nipples. When we was finished, he painted my belly with his soft lollipop. I expected Denver to shove the paint brush up inside me, but instead he said, 'We should get married,' and I believed him. We was gonna live here, you know."

She still coddled Denver's lifeless hand against her chest. Black, curly hair poked from under his shirt sleeve and drifted up over his colorless knuckles. A Rolex knockoff showed the time to be six-twenty-two. The last half-hour had seemed like an eternity.

"You didn't want my blood to mess up the wall?"

"It didn't mean nothing to him, not a damn thing."

Jackson shifted uneasily. "Well, no matter why you did it, I owe you." But she wasn't listening. She'd started that toneless crooning again, a forgotten lullaby.

He walked toward the counter, her feathery words stopping him. "Did you say something Miss. Doyle?"

"I can buy a new rug, can't I, 007? But the walls, they would never have been the same."

He reached for the phone, careful not to disturb her canister set lined neatly against the wall—flour, sugar, tea, and coffee all spaced evenly apart. The cordless phone stuck in its cradle and he had to rock it to release it. He'd work out the details of his phrasing later, when he wrote his report, but for now he needed to tell Dixon that Jones was dead. He dialed the number. The low rings reminded him of a lifeguard's whistle at the county pool. He hated when things weren't what they seemed.

"Yeah?" the sleepy voice said.

"This is Parks," he said. "I've got news."

"What's up, Jackson?"

"No need to bring a lunch when you come today, Dixon. The long wait is over."