hello i hate the milquetoastification of indie fiction

…and you should, too.

Reader, reader. What have we here? A blog post? This must really be something special. Regina rarely posts actual blog entries, and even more rarely starts a post on her site with ‘i hate’ instead of ‘i love.’ Yet, this where we find ourselves. I just need to vent a little: moreover, I need to implore you, reader, to think about what I am writing here, because I mean it sincerely.

I woke up this morning to find another horror author, whose pen name and work shall not be named, had a year-old book blocked an Amazon–an action that most likely occurred because somebody complained about it. A horror book. In the horror category. By a known author of extreme horror.

This is really sticking in my craw because I had a similar situation earlier in the month concerning a book published on the website Godless.com, which is meant specifically for horrific, shocking, boundary-pushing horror fiction that can (or should) not be published anywhere else. Unbeknownst to me, somebody I know–and at that point respected–went behind my back to the site creator to complain the piece, a 4500 word piece of shock horror comparable to many other pieces on the site. Is it the best piece I’ve ever written in my life? Of course not, I wrote it in an afternoon to be shocking and depraved, and to make readers question why they read this sort of fiction. But I stand by the piece, and the emotional reaction it evidently triggered in this person indicates to me that the piece is successful.

That being said, I have been affected for almost a month by this ridiculous scenario. I feel censorious eyes peering over my keyboard and into my mind as I try to think of something to write, and for the past weeks just a bit of my joy has been sapped from me whenever I do make it to the keyboard. This is the real goal the person had by first going to the Godless.com creator, then by sending me a personal message that amounted to a drive-by when they refused to reply. The person was offended and upset by the work, and when someone is upset, they want to upset the person who upset them. The motive for demanding another person remove a piece of art from circulation, whatever the quality, can only be a malicious one.

There are people out there who want writers to suck. I don’t mean just vindictive book bloggers, either. There are writers who want other writers to suck. There are people who have nothing to do with the world of publishing, who haven’t read a book since high school (or maybe haven’t graduated it) who want writers to suck. This latter group is made of people who pile-on to a situation on Twitter or Facebook so they can enjoy criticizing a content creator for a work they know nothing about. As for the rest, the frustrated writers who take pleasure in trashing the works of other writers, this is a truly lowly sort upon whom I’ll waste little time other than to say they are doomed to evolve into vindictive book bloggers, their works unread by the community that has long-since seen them for what they are.

But why would anyone want another person’s work to suck, Regina? Surely you’re looking at this the wrong way. These good, wholesome, neighborly souls are only concerned. They want to keep readers from reading “bad” books, so they leave informative 1-star reviews everywhere they possibly can. They want to keep writers from publishing (or preferably from writing at all) “bad” books, so they complain to Amazon and other platforms in the name of having the books taken down–thus, also, protecting these poor, helpless readers from the bad, bad fiction that offended the tattle-tale.

These are their stated goals, I will give you that. But, reader, this sort of person who can’t leave well enough alone actually has another goal seated in their heart of hearts. No matter what they tell themselves, the type of person who complains about a book is doing so for self-motivated reasons. If outside of the publishing/reading industry, they tend to be jealous of success in general and simply enjoy the schadenfreude that comes from latching onto a good public witch hunt. If they are a reader, then it is because they were so offended by the book that they want to hurt the author in their turn. And if they proclaim to be a fellow writer, then they can have one goal and one goal only: to rein in their competition until one of them sings a swansong and quits publishing altogether…or at least publishing in their genre.

Some writers believe that, rather than writing to the market, the market should conform to their tastes–and that other writers, for not doing the same, are wrong or in some way lacking in quality. For these authors, the only possibility they have of success, so far as they can see, is proving to readers that their taste is “wrong.” They write long reviews of other authors’ works that belittle the piece as much as possible before ending in snide urgings like, “But hey, if writing is your passion, keep doing it!” They critique in-progress works shared in confidence in such a way as to hamper their final form, rather than helping hone them to success. Most vilely, they report books to the platforms on which they’re published so that even extreme horror fiction properly categorized has no chance to remain for sale. To play it safe, deplatformed writers may end up writing milder things.

And that is exactly what these petty agitators want. They do not want to see boundaries pushed and authors inspired by one another. They do not want to look evil in the face or think that someone may disagree with them. They do not want to see others successful when their own books can’t seem to get past a handful of reviews and a couple of sales a month. They want only their own immediate success, and they just cannot understand why shitting on others won’t make it come any faster.

I am writing this entry today to urge you, reader, to never be like these people. Love fellow writers. Support them. Encourage them even if you don’t personally enjoy their work. Celebrate their successes, because one day they’re going to celebrate yours. Don’t be mediocre, and don’t let anyone tell you that you should be. When people are upset about your art, upset them more.

And if you’re a reader only? As Shirley Jackson once said to a rude critic, “If you don’t like my peaches, don’t shake my tree.” Let extreme horror grow in its profane groves of eyeball bushes and vaginal trees. It’s not doing anyone any real harm, and if you think that you’re worried it is, well…stop and ask yourself if that’s really the problem you have with it.

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hello i love taking your money via patreon and giving you goodies in return

That’s right, baby: your one and only Degenetrix is now on Patreon. Want a specially commissioned story just for you? A fun enamel DOTTIE FOR YOU pin available only to mid-tier Patrons and contest winners? Just want to get an exclusive story once a month that nobody outside of Patreon is allowed to see? Check out the offered tiers for all that and more! Your support allows me to create longer and better books, so the more you can give, the more you can get in return.

CLICK HERE TO BECOME A DEGENERATE

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Pre-order the complete paperback edition of DOTTIE FOR YOU SEASON ONE!

For the first time ever, get all eight episodes of psychedelic depravity in one incredible paperback collection featuring wild cover art by artist Lauren Kolesinskas! The entire first season of Regina Watts’s horrotica DOTTIE FOR YOU–along with the two previously commercially unavailable episodes of DOTTIE AFTER DARK for the season–are available at $34.99. That’s over one thousand pages of taboo horror romance, including those two secret episodes, for a price cheaper than the season’s digital release available on Kindle. Preorder your copy today and get it in time for its Valentine’s Day 2021 release date!

ORDER DOTTIE FOR YOU SEASON ONE TODAY!

HAROLD LOVES DOTTIE. DOTTIE LOVES HAROLD. HAROLD AND DOTTIE BOTH LOVE DOLCETT.

Indulge in a flavorful billionaire love story that reads like American Psycho meets 50 Shades on a bad acid trip.

Harold Fleetwood is pathetic. Despite being the billionaire CEO of a major Fortune 500 company, he’s a divorcé in his mid-fifties who can hardly look a woman in the eye. His dark compulsions and sick fantasies fill him with shame and leave the Internet as his only outlet, not just for titillation, but for intimacy–until the day he discovers bratty Dottie Shipman, the sexiest secretary in the office, has a dirty little secret she’s been hiding.

Turns out, Dottie is as intrigued by taboo fantasies as Harold is. Not only that, but she’s the artist he’s spent countless hours fantasizing with while wasting time in his filthy-minded chat room for fellow lonely perverts. He’s terrified, and thrilled. After all these years of hiding his intense, twisted desires from everyone except the prostitutes he employs, sharing himself with this almost too-perfect woman seems like a recipe for deadly consequences from which no amount of money can save him. Luckily for Harold, Dottie’s got another secret.

An unbelievable secret.

A secret that’s destined to change everything.

Check out more about Regina at her website! And a big shout-out to editor M.F. Sullivan for her contributions to the series.

hello i love bad witches, nerdy wolfmen, and new paperbacks

What’s Halloween without some witchcraft? Sexy Sabine the Bad Witch has TWO Halloween specials available for your enjoyment as we reach the peak of every horrotica fan’s favorite holiday. In THE WITCH’S BAD SEED, join Sabine as she transforms the snotty incel sorcerer from the other side of town into a pumpkin perfect for a little bit of erotic carving with the help of the Dark Lord–and in THE WITCH’S ALPHA PLEDGE, get to know cute nerd Jeremy Zevron as he’s transformed into a werewolf upon making some very questionable decisions.

On top of that, I’m very pleased to announce the paperback release of INDUSTRIAL DIVINITY! Don’t miss your chance to snatch up a beautifully bound copy of this psychedelic splatterpunk love story, featuring exquisite abstract illustrations by cover artist, Nuno Moreira! Dottie and Sabine fans alike should really give this book a look–and so should anybody who’s interested in transgressive fiction and body horror that’s more straightforward than erotic.

Finally, let me just wish you all a Happy Halloween and thank you guys for all your support! Incredibly, next month will mark my 6 month anniversary of publishing, and it’s so gratifying to see these books starting to emerge as paperbacks. I couldn’t do any of it without the legions of loyal readers who join my mailing list, read my books and tell their friends about my horribly depraved imagination! You all mean so much to me. Have a Happy (and Healthy!) Halloween, guys!

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OPERA, LOONEY TUNES, AND DOTTIE FOR YOU: THE PAST AND FUTURE OF MODERN EROTICA

DOTTIE FOR YOU’s season finale is out today! Get all eight episodes of the libertine horrotica.

Since quarantine started I have easily watched 150 hours of opera, maybe 200. That’s basically all I do these days—get up at 4 in the morning, shower, eat, play with the cat, write until it’s Opera o’ clock, then eat again and go to bed. In the course of this exercise—which, thanks to the Met’s kind extension of its nightly free opera stream, could feasibly continue until I’ve exhausted their library of recordings—I’ve felt my brain change in a number of ways. The way I approach my own stories and experience the stories of others is certainly altered.

More than that, though, I can’t help but notice a distinct memetic lineage. This is the evolutionary chain I mean: opera > serialized pulp fiction > Looney Tunes and other short cartoons > modern Kindle pulp fiction. There may be more nuance than that and more steps in the chain, but the more I think about this particular artistic evolution, the more I can’t help but deny that it feels right.

If you don’t have much experience with opera, I’d recommend checking out the Met app on whatever device you can. The free trial mode allows you to access their nightly free opera and it’s a great way to have a piece of art you might not otherwise experience randomly forced upon you. One thing you quickly learn, aside from the fact that the librettos are handily represented in the form of subtitles (true even at the actual Met, where they appear along little digitized windows on the backs of all the chairs), is that opera plots are by and large terrible. Oh, man. They are awful. Looking objectively at the writing of opera can reveal the sometimes painful truth that just because something is in Italian or French doesn’t make it smart.

That’s not to say all opera plots are terrible. If I let myself get into Richard Wagner I’d be here all day with a pinboard covered in hysterical strings and headed by the mathematical formula “RING CYCLE + PARSIFAL = TANNHAUSER.” Even lighter comedic operas can be wonderful experiences. The Elixir of Love by Donizetti is a very alchemical work of art that teaches us how increasing our social value with others will permit us to win the hearts of those we really want. Don Pasquale teaches us, uh—old men shouldn’t want to fall in love? Well…like I said, they can’t all be winners.

The long and short of it, however, is that by far and away the prevailing trope of opera is the love triangle—in Verdi’s many operas the theme is almost constant, but it appears in just about every opera you could name in one way or another. From a mechanical standpoint, this is probably largely because you can’t have, say, a Mission Impossible-style conflict and sing at the same time. Conflict therefore has to emerge in manageable ways, and what better and more relatable conflict is there than that of love?

As a result of the focus on music above plot and reaction above action, we frequently see that the scenes in opera depict characters singing about their feelings: feelings for others; feelings about life or death or love; feelings about what’s going to happen, or what just happened between acts or off-stage or even long before the opera started. Character interaction occurs in fits and spurts, defying the age-old piece of writing wisdom that if your character is alone you need to get them with other people or a plot event ASAP. Romance is often a trite vehicle rather than a noble cause, a means to get people to betray each other with often homicidal or suicidal results.

And the characters themselves, in the tradition of commedia dell’arte, subscribe to a fairly predictable set of stock roles. Watching limitless operas back to back, day in and day out, I sometimes feel as though I’m watching the same characters re-emerge across different pieces, especially when they’re played by the same singer. In private, I wryly refer to the primary opera archetypes as “The Simp,” “The Cuck,” and “The Incel,” with one character sometimes playing two or three roles throughout a story. And don’t worry, ladies…female characters can fit these roles just as well as male characters can.

Cuckolding has a long, pre-Shakespeare tradition of being used for an easy gag and reliable plot device. Johns Ford and Webster were just about obsessed with it, and not long after their careers, these same issues of lust and romance were incorporated into opera. In Mozart’s (let’s just use a word I hate) “problematic” opera Cosi fan tutte, the main male characters even adopt disguises and essentially cuckold themselves in an attempt to win a bet with a friend that women are inherently unfaithful. Spoiler alert: they lose the bet and it turns out all women are unfaithful sluts. Thanks, Mozart. That’s just lovely.

But when you put aside the sometimes questionable history of opera tropes and the bad habits of certain composers who seemed to rely a little too heavily on the exoticism they found in other races (Puccini, I’m looking at you), you notice something very interesting. Something familiar. Easily recognizable stock characters, stories presented in almost episodic format, frequent elements of disguise, general trickery, romance of sometimes dubious consent, slapstick comedy…boy!

See why I can’t help but notice an almost straight-line correlation to Looney Tunes? It’s no wonder the Bugs Bunny episodes “What’s Opera, Doc?” and “The Rabbit of Seville” are surely two of the most well-remembered and influential cartoons in all of human history. The more I watch opera, in fact, the more I can’t help but see it as nothing but a kind of live action cartoon set to music.

I’ve gotten into arguments with people about this, but the truth is that opera was really forced to change after Richard Wagner. I would even go so far as to say it ended then, and that Strauss and Puccini were, despite their obvious talents and incredible bodies of work, stragglers emulating forebears rather than pushing their genre forward. By the time Wagner died, Verdi was retired and would only come out for a few more hits–most of which were adaptations of Shakespeare. And, while I acknowledge Puccini was a wonderful composer, his operas lack the grabbing power I feel from Donizetti or Mozart. Of “canonical” opera composers, Strauss was the latest—and it’s worth noting as a point of interest that he produced 6 of his 17 works after the premiere of Looney Tunes in 1930. There’s always going to be some overlap in the evolution of an artform or a genre, and I can’t help but feel it’s far from a coincidence that Strauss seemed to be winding down during the same decade that Tex Avery and Bob Clampett were barely winding up.

If you need more proof, look at the origin of Warner’s “Merrie Melodies” and cartoons as a whole. Merrie Melodies stole—I mean, uh, had their name inspired by—the Disney project, “Silly Symphonies.” Both projects were designed to showcase musical compositions owned by their respective companies. Most early cartoons were set to music or simply musicals—all of this is to say that early cartoons were, essentially, opera. They were used for the same purpose: as visual vehicles to get audience members in seats to listen to a composer’s music.

That’s why the plots of operas tend to be so weak; in most cases, composers and librettists were different people who sometimes didn’t even meet. In the case of operas like Strauss’s Rasulka there were gaps of many years between the writing of the music and the writing of the text. The libretto was a means to an end. Gilbert & Sullivan could hardly stand each other, if you believe the hype—and lest we forget, their comically absurd (some might say almost cartoonish) operas are an undeniable influence on even modern cartoons and signal clearly a shift of storytelling. What Simpsons fan can forget the hilarity of Sideshow Bob singing the entire score of H.M.S. Pinafore in a very Bugs Bunny-esque trick of Bart’s?

Yes, of course, people are still creating opera…but it’s just not the same. It’s all very conceptual now. Shostakovich’s The Nose is hilarious, but almost unlistenable. Glass’s Akhnaten felt like the same motif played over and over again until I had to get up and bake a batch of cookies or else fall asleep in my chair. I wish I could like John Adams, but I really just can’t get there. Frankly, the more modern opera I watch, the more I strongly admire Repo! The Genetic Opera’s willingness to dig into the tropes and character archetypes that once populated these glamorous stages while still making music you can enjoy listening to.

Modern opera is just off. The spirit is gone. It’s moved elsewhere. Composers now compose for films instead of the Church, and so when they compose for opera the tone is now different—the stories, too. Opera is just not the widespread medium for storytelling anymore…and as a result of over-production and executive meddling, neither is film or television. Soap operas seem like the natural descendant, and from a plot perspective they are, but their stories lack the transcendent power of their predecessors. After all, how can you tell a fulfilling story when you’re really just writing to fill the air time between soap commercials?

Disney has dropped all emphasis on creating really heartfelt stories in a gambit to instead fulfill plot beats in films designed to serve as advertisements for rides at Disneyland and Disneyworld. You think they spend all that money on their movies just to sell you merch? Piddly action figures and t-shirts and DVDs? Oh no, baby…that cash is nice, but it’s all about getting your kids to beg you for an in-person visit with Mickey Mouse and his new best friend, Darth Vader. No wonder they’re pissed about COVID—think of all the money they poured into the two-hour-plus trailer for whatever new Mulan ride they were ready to unveil. Or maybe did unveil. I don’t feel like Googling.

So that’s not where the spirit of commedia dell’arte and opera has gone. And it’s not in Looney Tunes anymore, either, because Warner is certainly subject to the same problem Disney-Marvel-Fox has. Where, then, is opera lurking?

In my erotica, my friend. In my erotica and your erotica and even, yes, the erotica of money-making genius E.L. James. We may not like it, but it’s successful for a reason.

Let’s revisit some of the qualities of opera. Opera’s emphasis is on reaction, rather than action. It frequently starts en media res or at least as close to the action as it possibly can. It deals with love triangles, romantic trickery, heartbreak and fulfillment. Cuckolding is a prominent trope, but I didn’t even mention the frequently employed character of the prostitute or the very standard use of the Madonna/Whore dynamic. And, perhaps most relevantly, most—if not all—plot action tends to occur off-stage in favor of long, relatively self-indulgent, angst-filled interactions between forlorn lovers.

All of this as a vehicle for music, much as erotica, which also bears all these qualities, is a vehicle for sex. Replace the dramatic arias and duets with the scenes of lovemaking they represent, and you couldn’t tell if La Traviata’s libretto had been written by Francesco Maria Piave or Regina Watts.

That’s the most important thing to remember about opera—all these songs are symbolic of something deeper. They’re not taking place, as musicals seem to, in worlds where characters suddenly burst into song. Rather, like a soliloquy in Shakespeare, when Violetta paces back and forth in her room exclaiming to herself that she must be free to frolic from joy to joy while Alfredo, far off, cries to her that love is the heartbeat of the universe, we are being trusted with a glimpse into the courtesan’s soul. It is a symbolic song, as so many lovers’ songs in opera are a symbolic replacement for the act of sexual union. Siegfried’s taming of Brunhilde at the end of Siegfried is perhaps among the most audacious works from that regard, because it is just so forthright in its depiction of what is happening between them and Brunhilde’s extremely complicated feelings about it.

So it’s very easy to see the close connections between erotica and opera. Furthermore, erotic fiction used to be primarily verse—from Catullus to Shakespeare and even among characters within the generally prose format of Lady Murasaki’s sensual Genji-Monogatari, poetry was the vehicle of erotic expression. What is libretto but poetry intended for music? It’s almost as if, with the mainstreaming and gradual acceptance of opera, (which like most forms of theater was considered a degenerate waste of time by puritans for quite a long time), erotica split itself in two. The lurid, saucy, graphic stuff that the Victorians left us and that we now pump out for Amazon’s pleasure; and the subtle, spiritual, high-consciousness erotica of the soul as represented by the symbols of opera. With opera in that form no longer being readily produced and this spirit unable to emerge organically when you’ve got groups of producers carefully designing the story that will give them the highest possible financial return, it’s only natural that the creative spark of sensual storytelling has returned to prose.

Poor authors without networks will always be there to write from their hearts. This is sufficient to engender the lively and theatrical storytelling of the sort that opera once produced—but with well-written erotica, the connections are obvious. I am of the strong opinion that erotica is largely derided as a genre because it doesn’t achieve its own expectations—that is to say, the very experience of reading erotica should be, in and of itself, erotic. The aesthetics of the prose should be erotic just as the aesthetics of the opera score should be romantic, sensual, powerful.

Every time I read a bad turn of phrase in a work of an erotic fiction it’s like I’m chewing on aluminum foil: it’s like a wrong note in an opera. In erotica more than any other, the language should flow, the text should have rhythm, the very sentence structure should pulse with sensual intrigue. A good erotica is one through which the reader flows almost as if they’re listening to music or making love. It builds momentum from the start and pushes you through its text in the same way that a Wagner score rises from the orchestra, interweaves with its characters, and draws its audience members deep into the heart of the story until they themselves can hardly be said to exist.

My serialized cannibal horror erotica DOTTIE FOR YOU began as a sort of dual homage to the Marquis de Sade and Vladimir Nabokov, but it was unavoidable that as I absorbed more and more opera the tone of the story would shift. Maybe I expected that, but I didn’t expect opera to have such an impact on the way I tell all my stories—and I certainly didn’t expect it to have such an impact on the way I think about my prose. It has taught me how to make work fast-paced but still emotionally deep. By DOTTIE’s novel-length season finale, out today, the tone of the series had shifted away from violent erotica for the sake of violent erotica and into violent erotica for the sake of spiritual enlightenment.

I have come to view it, especially Episode 8, as a form of prose opera—and DOTTIE fans who’ve already read the season’s finale, especially the last six or so chapters, will surely agree with me. The definition comes not from its referential relationship with many operas from Pagliacci to Die Walkure to Carmen but from the dedicated effort, by way of aesthetic prose, to elevate the violent, sometimes horrific lovemaking of its characters out of sordid pulp and into its own form of esoteric spiritual experience—just as the music of opera frequently elevates the clumsy plots and silly characters of commedia dell’arte out of cartoonish nonsense and into revelation.

It’s only a matter of time before more and more authors see erotica not just as a place to make a quick buck but as a source of artistic and even spiritual expression. Maybe, with everybody stuck in their houses and the Met running one opera a day until at least September of 2021, we can expect this change to come sooner rather than later.

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hello i love collaborating with puppet combo: BABYSITTER BLOODBATH comes out 10/9

Picture R.L. Stine’s FEAR STREET series but with a splatterpunk twist: that, my friends, is BABYSITTER BLOODBATH. Don’t miss this bloody treat produced in collaboration with Puppet Combo, the genius developer behind such horror classics as POWER DRILL MASSACRE, NUN MASSACRE, and FEED ME, BILLY. BABYSITTER BLOODBATH is their first novelization and my first collaboration, so please support us both by buying a copy when it comes out on 10/9…and don’t forget to check out the rest of my work, too. There’s a new Sabine short coming out tonight or tomorrow, it just so happens, and if you like evil nuns, well…this’ll be the short for you. Of course, keep in mind–this is my first YA-style novel. Usually my work is a bit saucier than that, as regular readers know…new readers are advised to proceed with the utmost caution. But don’t worry, Regina Watts fans–YA-style doesn’t mean that it’s for kids.

I had a hell of a time working on this one–it was an absolute blast. Here’s to hoping I’ll get to do another one!

READ BABYSITTER BLOODBATH ON 10/9/20

You’ve played the game, now read the book! The first novelization in Puppet Combo’s VHS Terrors Series: Babysitter Bloodbath, puts you right in the middle of a classic 80s SLASHER!

Sarah has been feeling happy in her quiet Washington suburb and tonight is a big chance for her: A lengthy babysitting gig and a chance to be alone with her new hunky guy Jack. With any luck this’ll shape up to be a great night for her— unfortunately that luck has already run out.

A brutal atrocity happened 22 years ago in the very same neighborhood, completely forgotten by this small town, but not forgotten by the monster who committed it. Neokalus Burr will be violently released from his long stay in Monroe State Hospital… and Sarah will finally get to meet the long-forgotten horror of her town’s past.

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hello i love interracial femdom orgies of sapphic sluts plus girls getting dollified by busty goths in retro horror erotica

say this post’s title five times fast and then buy this raunchy horror standalone that’s a smash hit on kindle! two days on the market and it’s rocketed up to #20 in transgender erotica, #48 in lesbian erotica, and #58 in erotic thrillers. this ultra-fun blast from the past is packed with decadent lesbian orgies, bimbo sluts, mind control, anal play, humiliation, voyeurism, dollification, human furniture, blasphemy, cuckqueaning, and a touch of giantess play to really make it fun. and don’t forget about that horror plot, baby…because it is a horror story first, as always.

if you love elvira (specifically her cult classic movie, elvira: mistress of the dark), the mystery science theater 3000 episode and/or original hokey movie the touch of satan, or goosebumps and fear street, then by Satan, this is the horror erotica standalone for you.

READ “THE WITCH’S NEW DOLLY!”

“Come back in three days, on Saturday night, and I’ll make you a doll.”

Alma has heard some wild stories about the neighborhood recluse, but when she finally meets the busty goth chick named Sabine Malbrook, Alma isn’t prepared for her to be quite so hot. Or so crazy. It’s not long before she’s calling herself a witch, inviting Alma to play with her dolls, and promising a few strange things if only Alma will return on Saturday night.

A fiery Latina, hot and athletic in her own right as well as a confirmed lesbian, Alma can’t resist the tempting offer…and can’t help but want to explore the exquisite aesthetic pleasures that come with the sensual art of doll-making. But being made a doll is only half the fun. The real purpose of a doll is for playing with, of course, and Alma will learn that Sabine likes to play rough…but not as rough as the rest of her coven, who happen to be coming over for a depraved Sabbath rite full of shocking twists and one magickal, mummified toy that’s a far cry from your mother’s strap-on.

Still, however rough it gets…better to be made a doll than a piece of furniture, right?

READ “THE WITCH’S NEW DOLLY!”

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hello i love slimy futa selkie erotica

if you’re looking for a hot one-off erotic novella that features elements of WAM, vore, tentacles, extradimensional maneaters stealing human flesh to get down in a threesome, some light exhibitionism and a futa scene, then daddy you’ve found the right novella available for $4.99 or free on Kindle Unlimited.

i especially love it when it sells a copy before it’s even available on the amazon store somehow??? idk but if whoever is stalking my amazon page could also encourage their friends to do it i would appreciate it. gotta get that moneeeeeyyyyyyyyy. anyway this one was unexpected but fun, i started it in 2019 and it was always intended to be somehow influenced by gene wolfe but then he had to selfishly go and die (ugh) and the project got cratered. now i’m glad i didn’t obviously because it wouldn’t have been erotic and wouldn’t have been AWESOME like it is now. anyway buy it buy it buy it buy it buy it buy it buy it i want money buy it buy it buy it

Don’t miss this Kindle-exclusive novella of erotic horror by the author of HER ROMAN SLAVE and DOTTIE FOR YOU: SELKIE is a far splash from The Little Mermaid.

“Would you like to live forever?

When Annette allows her alienated boyfriend Jacob to drag her to a sales conference on the dreary Oregon coastal town of Bandon she’s hoping for a weekend of peace–but time alone quickly reveals the dysfunctions of their relationship and leaves her searching for some quiet on the shore. This attempt at solitude instead leaves her reeling from a passionate rendezvous at the tendrils of a slick and strange sea creature, she’s conflicted by overwhelming lust and unbridled terror–but not near as much when the creature begins stealing the skins of hotel visitors to close in on its true prey.

Turns out this maneater from beyond spacetime has an offer for her. Love it and live forever. Love it and be more than human. Love it and accept its predatory, unearthly nature.

And, morals aside, if her new lover can assume the identity of anyone it devours–even inhabiting multiple bodies at once–how can she possibly say no?

CLICK HERE TO BUY SELKIE!

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