What are we looking for?

Our vision is to continue to expand XFiction and to add more voices, with the goal of creating a content-rich hub for all fans of Dark Erotica and Erotic Horror. What you see in the Dark Scenes is eactly what we want more of - illustrated short scenes that offer the viewer deliciously twisted moments.

But I don't have BOTH a story AND and image!

Not to worry! If you are an artist, we can create a short text to flesh out your art into a scene. If you are a writer, we can request one of our artists to draw an image for your story.

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We will work with you to provide either art for your story or story for your art. We will include links to your other works, social media and any other channels you request. We will promote your work within our collection and do our best to provide maximum exposure. In addition, you will be able to use the art/story we have supplemented in your own promotions.

Awesome! Are there any requirements to be featured?

XFiction is a curated selection, which means that all submissions must meet certain quality standards and also fit thematically with the rest of the project. See our criteria below:

For Artwork:
-Media: we accept traditional art and digital paintings (but not 3D renders or photos);
-Original Characters only - no fandoms, celebrities, etc.;
-Style: this can be somewhat subjective, but we prefer styles that are dark and gritty or realistic and want to stay away from styles that are too cartoony;

For Writing:
-Length: for the Dark Scenes, we are aiming for 500-1000 words. If you have a longer story, you can still submit it for the Erotic Horror category;
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-Grammar and spelling: please check your text before submitting ;)

How can I submit my work?

If you'd like to be featured on XFiction, don't hesitate to drop us a message either at vincent@xfiction.org or directly in the official Discord.

Alexandra carefully examined the creature that had killed so many. She appeared human, now that she was not wearing the ribbon to dissipate her mist of illusion. It seemed that somehow the fascination she felt for her was mutual. There was a dangerous lust in those green eyes, but there was something else as well…

The black woman moved in her strange sideways manner, her green round spectacles fixated on the girl.

'So, maiden... what brings you to me?'

The question was anything but innocent. Alexandra knew that depending on her answer, everything could be on the line, including her life.

'I want to serve you.' she said quietly, eyes falling on the floor. It was both brave and obedient, a calculated answer. She held her breath.

'Is that right? Tsk' The dark woman’s overwhelming presence surrounded her as she brought her face closer.. 'I do have such a fondness for maids, tsk' she said as she reached in the girl’s corset and pulled breasts out.

Alexandra placed her hands behind her back, letting the creature do as it wished.

'Do you like them?'

'Very.'

It rubbed one of her nipples, making it hard and erect. Was that a hand that was rubbing her, or one of many long, black legs? Her mind was swinging between delirium and reality, between what it was told to see and what it knew was there. The truth was unthinkable. It was dangerous. She swung back to the comfort zone, her vision focusing on a friendly, human face.

'If you were my maid, I'd get those pierced right away, tsk.'

The girl’s heart pounded faster. The black woman leaned closer still, gently kissing her neck. She felt a light prick and an injection of euphoria. The world turned on its head.

'Now open wide, girl.'

The vision of the black woman melted away for a fraction of a second, revealing an eight-legged nightmare that lowered an appendage to her mouth.

Alex closed her eyes, returning to the picture of the black woman in leather. Her lips parted away and let something round and thick push its way down her throat.

She diligently began to suck the organ, refusing to think and refusing to care about the realities of the situation. She needed to be a good maid for her mistress. Her hand reached down under her skirt and rubbed her wet slit, synchronizing with the rhythm of her lips.

After a while a burst of fluid filled her mouth and she eagerly gulped it down, feeling it splash inside her tummy. The creature backed away and after a few moments the world slowly stopped turning. The woman was back to her normal appearance, her lips curing into a smile of approval.

'I'm pleased with you, servant. This has been most refreshing. As a gesture of my goodwill I will not swell your belly with my children.... today.’

This is a modified excerpt from the game "Transylvania".

You're close enough that the smell hits you, a bestial smell of sweat and mucus that is both repulsive and attractive in its repulsiveness. Your body responds to it with a growing hotness an a light-headed feeling that borders on euphoria.

The creature takes a step towards you and your eyes fall down to its giant erection.

Damn it, I used too much pheromones!

Your error is clear now, but it's too late to fix it. The intentions of the beast are clear and you doubt you can outrun or dissuade it. You know there's only one way things could end. You get down on the ground and assume the doggy position on all fours. Considering how things went down with Lavius, you were hoping that your next encounter would at least be both more consensual and less life threatening. But whatever you tell yourself there is no denying that your heart is pounding hard and you feel more than a little excited as the beast gets on top of you.

The werewolf's giant member is poking at your garments but still has no easy access to its target. The beast begins to growl in frustration.

Damn it, damn it, damn it...!

By now your body is also in heat, wet and ready for what is to come. You curse all the gods and reach back to pull down your panties.

You are exposed and ready. This isn't how you planned things to go, but now it's too late...

The beast enters you with a growl, stretching you wide with a single thrusts. He's too big, way too big for you, and you immediately realize that your human body could never safely handle anything of this size.

You are surprised to find out that you're wrong. Your flesh stretches and adapts with unnatural ease, letting the werewolf's giant phallus plunge deep inside you.

You somehow know that it's the bracelet's fault. Your body has changed, and it's not just in outward appearance. You have become more adaptable, more resilient.... and more sensitive.

However much you try to take control, your body craves it. It needs it. Your breasts are bouncing with every thrust of the beast, moans escaping your lips despite your best efforts.

How did things come to this...?

You let the beast do its thing, until it finally tenses up. Its member inflates inside you, locking into place and you feel a series of spurts shoot deep insde your womb.

The werewolf keeps you in place for a few more minutes, until his knot finally deflates and he plops free from you.

With a dizzy head, you slowly recover from the experience. When you finally manage to get up, your legs shaking, the beast is nowhere to be seen.

This is an excerpt from the game "Transylvania".

You're close enough that the smell hits you, a bestial smell of sweat and mucus that is both repulsive and attractive in its repulsiveness. Your body responds to it with a growing hotness an a light-headed feeling that borders on euphoria.

The creature takes a step towards you and your eyes fall down to its giant erection.

Damn it, I used too much pheromones!

Your error is clear now, but it's too late to fix it. The intentions of the beast are clear and you doubt you can outrun or dissuade it. You may have gotten yourself in this situation, but you're not going to give in to the beast just like that!

I still smell like a werewolf, so the beast probably won't eat me this time. Perhaps I can get around it...

You quicken your pace and try to brush past the beast. However as soon as it sees you running away, it leps after you, easily pinning you to the ground.

Damnit!!

At least you tried. It's little consolation, but it's all you have. Despite your body's burning heat, you still tried to resist. You didn't want this. As the beast's erect member pokes under your garments, you prepare for the worst.

You are were ready for what you expected, but you weren't ready for this.

In its lust and rage, the werewolf pushes its member into your back entrance, howling with pleasure.

'Aaargh!!'

Your ass stretches wide with a single thrust. He's too big, way too big for you, and you immediately realize that your human body could never safely handle anything of this size.

You are surprised to find out that you're wrong. Your flesh stretches and adapts with unnatural ease, letting the werewolf's giant phallus plunge deep inside you.

You somehow know that it's the bracelet's fault. Your body has changed, and it's not just in outward appearance. You have become more adaptable, more resilient.... and more sensitive.

However much you try to take control, your body craves it. It needs it. Your breasts are bouncing with every thrust of the beast, moans escaping your lips despite your best efforts.

How did things come to this...?

You let the beast do its thing, until it finally tenses up. Its member inflates inside you, locking into place and you feel a series of spurts shoot deep insde your guts.

The werewolf keeps you in place for a few more minutes, until his knot finally deflates and he plops free from you.

With a dizzy head, you slowly recover from the experience. When you finally manage to get up, your legs shaking, the beast is nowhere to be seen.

This is an excerpt from the game "Transylvania".

The Forest was a special place, unlike any other in the world. Not because of how deadly and dangerous it was, but because it was a place that truly was evil.

His hand traced another ink line on the paper. The once precise and scientific drawings of the local species had long devolved into macabre, nightmarish visions that haunted anyone who dared glance at them. Not that he cared. Drawing them was for his own satisfaction, a hobby that had progressively consumed more and more of his time.

This particular piece was devoted to Myriapoda Daemonica. A pitch black, silent centipede that dwelled under the fallen leaves of the Forest. A vicious predator, it was capable of hunting even animals well above its size. But the thing that really fascinated him about M. Daemonica was its way of reproducing.

The centipede would find a large mammal and creep on it, biting a limb and injecting a dose of a powerful toxin. The substance would quickly induce delirium in the victim, followed by eventual paralysis. Then, once the victim is defenceless on the ground, the centipede would find a bodily opening to slither into and deposit its numerous eggs, using the conditions of a living and breathing host for the incubation period.

He continued drawing, trying to capture the delicate shadows of the folds of the dress. This was a hard thing to get right.

It was a rare thing for the centipede to catch a human host. Probably one of the girls from the village had carelessly wandered into the outskirts of the Forest. The initial delirium had caused her to lose her way, entering the shady depths where no one could find her. Well, no one but him.

He glanced up from the paper, checking if he had gotten her proportions right. The breasts, the hips - he had done as best he could. Her stillness helped.

All the while, the centipede had slowly crept over the girl’s body. Her usual prey did not come wrapped in clothes, so the creature had spent some time looking for an opening, its multitude of thin, needle-like legs exploring the victim’s young flesh.

He carefully approached and kicked her right foot, pushing her legs a little further apart. It was only speeding up the inevitable. After a few more creeping traversals, the centipede finally found what it was looking for. Its head slipped under the girl’s skirt and he watched with fascination as the long body progressively disappeared.

There was no moan, no scream, no movement from the paralized girl. Her eyes, unblinking, stared at the sky above. Whether she felt ecstasy or terror, no one could know.

His sketch was done. He closed the notebook and walked away.

The Shami desert tribe is famous for their trade in obedient, masochistic slaves. No one knows the secret to their process, which is rumored that only one in three survives, but those that come out are broken into total subservience, a high quality merchandise that no other slavers can rival.

She had seen the light in Lia’s eyes slowly fade, as the dark shape slithered away from the corpse of her friend. Fear gripped her mind. Pure, primal, unfiltered terror. She did not want to die.

On the side, the other girl was waiting in silent shock, her gaze distant and lost. She knew that soon it would be her turn too.

‘Humiliate yourself!’ hissed the voice like desert wind.

She lowered herself forward, placing her hands on the ground and offering her opening for him.

‘I am yours, do what you want…’ she mumbled.

Something entered her, long and twisted, sinking all the way to her depths. For a brief moment she felt as if the shape continued, striking through her stomach and lungs and penetrating all the way up to her mind.

‘Humiliate yourself or die…’ hissed the voice in her ears again.

Malika thought of the man she hated the most, the one that had once made her life miserable and sad...

The shadow shifted and the djinn took the shape, a fat and repugnant old man with a distinct smell that filled her nostrils. His coarse beard rubbed on her skin as he kissed her shoulders, sending her back to the worst moments of her life… His dick rammed harder inside her, up and down and all the way in again, forcing pitiful moans out of her mouth. For some inexplicable reason her hole was itching with insatiable heat, and despite herself Malika’s hips pushed back to welcome her tormentor deeper…

‘More, give me more…’ hissed the voice in her head.

Her mind drew blank. She didn’t know what could be worse. She felt the man turning his head towards the other bound girl. Third and last. She didn’t want to die.

A fat, greedy hand reached around and squeezed her breasts.

‘I can make anything happen…’ taunted the evil voice.

Her mind locked in fear, Malikah closed her eyes. She imagined two piercings on her nipples, keeping her in constant heat forever. She imagined her womb forever fertile and ready, for his children to be forced inside her…

‘More, humiliate yourself more…’

Her hips bounced on his fat dick on their own. She was climbing towards a climax and she felt it. She imagined being forced into orgasm after orgasm by the man…

The creature lost interest again, stopping the thrusts. Malikah understood in an instant. What was she thinking? Who was she, to receive such unthinkable pleasure? No, that was not the way.

‘Take it away!’ she cried out, tears rolling down her eyes. She would be in fertile heat, but would never orgasm again. Her true curse - to forever lust after the man she hated, and never receive satisfaction.

Content with her choice, the djinn filled her womb, and their contract was sealed.

Three days had passed since the infection. She spent them in her room, not daring to show her face to anyone. Her once beautiful body had changed into a twisted caricature of its former self. Her once pristine smooth white skin had turned darker, with little brown hairs covering her arms and legs. Her jaw had morphed - from the previously tiny delicate mouth, now it was protruding forward, giving her an animalistic appearance. Her teeth had grown a little longer, her eyes a little wilder.

But by far the worst change was her mind. She had fought, she had lost, and now she was broken. Her defiance had turned into hatred, which had simmered into self-loathing and was then distilled into a toxic brew of self-humiliation and lust.

She watched in the mirror, watched what she was becoming, and her hand darted down to rub the wet spot between her legs. It was all her fault and she deserved this.

Even now, as she was lying naked in bed, her mind was spiraling into madness. Over the last few days, a little boil was forming on her skin, right next to the bite mark. She had read from books that it was her body’s reaction, trying to expel at least part of the venom out of the wound. She had grown fixated on the thing, watching it grow and fester on her shoulder. It was white at the top, growing into red all the way down to black where it merged with the skin around it. And the skin around the bite was particularly bad - dark and coarse, it was in stark contrast with her once pristine beauty.

Her fingers accelerated down there and the girl reached another climax, sinking a notch deeper into the self-degrading spiral. The orgasmic high was brief and unsatisfactory, leaving her only craving for more. She deserved more. She was nothing.

She crawled naked on all fours, reaching her cabinet. There was a syringe in there. It had been on her mind for some time.

Her slit was horny again, an animalistic heat that could not be satisfied. With shaking fingers, she took the syringe out and approached the spot on her skin. Ignoring the pain, the young woman stuck the needle into the center of infection and pulled the handle. The cylinder filled with a sickly white substance.

Crawling naked, she returned to the bed. There was sweat covering her body and her sheets were sticky from the numerous juices she had expelled over them. Her mind was spiraling. She turned the full syringe in her fingers. It was unthinkable. Abominable. And she deserved it. Her hand darted between her legs again.

She looked down at herself. While parts of her body were changed, others had been spared. One of the few remaining things were her breasts - small, perky tits with cute pink nipples and soft skin, still white and tender. They were the perfect breasts that any girl could ever dream of.

She stuck the needle into her left nipple and pressed the handle.

Slowly, the liquid was injected under her skin and absorbed into the tissue. There was brief pain, followed by a stinging and itching sensation. Her fingers accelerated, pushing her towards another climax.

...

It only took a few hours for the symptoms to appear. Her left nipple was now darker and twice as big as before. Thick, dark hairs had sprouted around it, and the areola was a deep red that contrasted with the still pale skin of her breasts.

Looking down at the outcome, quiet tears began to roll down her cheeks. What had she done to herself? What had she become?

She looked in the mirror again. A wild, crazed creature stared back at her. She didn’t see a human - only a bitch in heat, with a stupid muzzle and an engorged, oversized nipple, signaling she was ready for breeding. Her pussy twitched with agonizing heat again.

Sobbing, the girl crawled to the cabinet again, holding her other breast in her hand. It was so soft and perfect, a fresh delicate pink with a perfect size. She grabbed a pillow and rubbed it frenziedly between her legs, trying to get off, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

She grabbed the needle and sank it into the pink flesh, then pressed the handle. In the cabinet, the “antidote” bottle remained still full in the second drawer, but she had long forgotten about it. It was too late now. And if it wasn’t, it would be too late by tomorrow.

She crawled in front of the mirror again and began rubbing herself as she watched the skin grow darker.

She didn’t deserve to see a god. They had told the young oracle that much, before blinding her and chaining her to the Pillar of Prophecies. As she felt the last sun rays retract from her face and the night breeze blow cool on her skin, the young girl knew that he would come for her soon, and she was right.

The gentle sound of the waves was interrupted by bubbling and boiling, and she felt in her soul that a colossal presence was emerging from the depths. She wondered if the Sea God will be tall and strong, with seaweed in his hair. She wondered if he would kiss her or say anything before their ritual began.

Instead, she felt something cold and slimy wrap around her left ankle. She pulled away on instinct, but it was stronger than her and soon it was wrapped around her leg, spiraling its way up her naked body.

Then there was another slimy touch on her breasts, her hips, her belly. She felt a drowning sensation, a sense of apprehension that there was nowhere to go, nothing to do. Her golden chains clanked as the tentacles enveloped her body into a salty embrace. She suddenly knew what came next, and despite her fear and revulsion she fulfilled her duty - spreading her legs in obedient acceptance.

The dead flesh wriggled its way up inside of her, filling her mortal mind with incomprehensible visions of unfathomable depths and unspeakable words. It pushed deeper inside of her, stretching her flesh with its slimy dampness. She saw her mother screaming while she gave birth to her, ten thousand and one sunsets blooming in her eyes. She saw her death and reincarnation deep below, as one of His servants. Her womb was destined to be a vessel for his domination, her body a fleeting distraction for his pleasures while eternities rolled by.

The god of the depths coiled around the oracle, his otherworldly presence mocking her frail innocence. Her entire body now dripping with his slime, she finally abandoned all hope of control. Her hands relaxed, dangling peacefully in her chains while the tentacles defiled her. She felt a new one slither down her crack and push its way down her back entrance. The oracle let him crawl in, felt his condescending smirk in front of her blind eyes. What was she to him? Nothing. A leaf in the wind, a pebble to be kicked down the road for his amusement. She had been blessed to touch him, to receive anything at all. She would squirm and moan for his pleasure, let him mock and humiliate her. She was a grain of sand and he was the Ocean.

He slithered deeper still, pulling her mind into the depths...

There was a sudden sense of warmth, followed by the bumpy texture of a canine tongue licking off her dripping juices. It took her by surprise and at first she didn’t even have the time to be embarrassed. But then the mutt hopped on top of her and there were a pair of paws clenching her hips and something warm and wet that poked against her. She froze in the moment.

“Down boy, go away!” cried the homeless man with a hoarse voice, startled out of his happy place. The dog didn’t obey and he shouted again, rising to shoo it away.

There was a brief moment when their eyes interlocked. Her lips were still around his cock, a line of drool dripping down her mouth. An electric tension filled the air and for that instant Gabriela could see herself in his eyes, could see the whore crawling on the floor, sunken so low that even a dog could climb on top of her.

Is this my place?

How could she live with herself if even in her darkest disgust she felt arousal? How could she ever pretend to be anything but a grotesque mockery of a faithful maiden?

The movement was slight, but undeniable. Her legs crawled a little farther apart, her back bent a little lower to ground. The man stared at her. In his gaze, there was surprise, then disbelief, then disgust. Of course he would be disgusted with her. Even he had some morals, even he who lived with beasts had not fallen so low.

Unlike her. And now her lust spread like an infection, from her to him. His fat lips curled in a twisted smile and he sat back.

His big, heavy hand lay on the back of her head, and pushed her down, shoving him down her throat. And then the mutt was inside her.

It was the worst of her fears come true. It was bestial, it was primal, it was rough. And she couldn’t forgive herself for how good it felt. It was wrong, on so many levels. The shape, the size, the slimy texture. And despite all that it was pleasure, it was pure bliss that she had longed for all her life. Every thrust stole an embarrassed squeal, muffled by the cock in her mouth.

The homeless man finally seemed to understand who she was, what she was. The deformed worm grew harder and longer, throbbing and wriggling in her mouth. His hand pushed her all the way down, shoving her face down to the root of the stem. She felt him at the back of her throat, swelling like a sore thumb, like an infected corpse ready to burst with puss. And then it came, a foul spray, viscous and sticky, a seed of depravity and decay that she eagerly gulped down.

Behind her, the beast followed suite. A swelling at the base of its member locked it in place, while it spurred out more filth deep inside her. It seemed to last for hours, going on and on. Her mind span and she felt like sinking deep into the ground, deep to the fiery core of the Earth. Where she belonged.

This is an excerpt from the story "The Dangerous Way Home".

“I never imagined you would be this kind of girl,” said the homeless man. “I think this is for you now.”

He was holding the red collar of the missing dog. Somehow it felt right. She bent her head down, allowing him to wrap the collar around and tighten it around her neck. There was a finality to it and Gabriela felt something inside her snap.

When the mutt was finally done with her, she couldn’t lift her eyes up. She just stood there, a broken mess. The man got up from the mattress, leaving her head to fall down on it. There was a dirty spot right in front of her face. She tried to identify what it was from, but her vision was growing blurry and there were too many smells mixing up in the air. It didn’t matter.

The homeless man got behind her and pushed his dog away. Her skirt was lifted up and part of the filth oozed out of her, dripping onto the floor. That didn’t matter either - there was plenty left inside of her, more than enough to seep into every corner of her soul.

The old geezer didn’t seem to mind being second. Gabriela felt his touch on her wet skin, felt him slide on the gooey slippery surface that had once been her innocence. It was almost endearing. Somebody cared for her. Somebody wanted her, even now. Even from the depths of her depravity, she was still good enough. For him.

He came in fast and hard. Still on the floor on all fours, her hips bounced back and forth against his hanging belly, making a wet, splashing sound. Her face rubbed against the mattress, pushed with a force that she did not fight. Old candy. The dirty spot was from an old candy, flattened and molten into the surface of the tissue. She could see it now that her head was shoved on top of it.

Fast. He was getting faster. Tight around her waist. She was so slender he only needed one hand to grab her. The other moved to her neck, pulled the collar towards him. Hard.

Her head sprang upwards, arching her back towards the ceiling. Her vision shifted from the grey surface of the mattress to the gloomy space of the room. And darkness. The light of the TV screen barely illuminated the cardboard walls with bleak colours, but there was no sound.

Harder. The collar tightened around her neck as the man pulled on it. Her breathing was shallow and difficult. Her mind was dizzy and something primal awakened deep within. She tightened around the deformed member inside her, daring him, begging him to spill his filth inside her.

Warmth and wetness. One of the dogs had began to lick her face. It was like it was telling her that she could let go. That it would be OK. The collar was even tighter. So tight.

Air. She gasped for air but her hips shook violently, demanding satisfaction. Then it came - suddenly and violently, as the old man groaned, holding her tightly underneath him. The room grew darker still. It was done.

When she came to her senses a minute later, a little bowl was placed in front of her. The young girl dug into the stale dog food, the best that she’d ever had. As she crunched at it, the second dog climbed on top of her, eager to take its turn. The man grabbed another beer and sat next to her, turning up the volume of old TV. Her moans were drowned with the broken sound of a sports commentator. The man gently patted her head as his second hound had his way with her. The first one had already recovered and was eagerly waiting its turn again.

Gabriela closed her eyes. The road here had been so dangerous. But now she was home.

This is an excerpt from the story "The Dangerous Way Home".

The spider approcahes her face to yours and you feel her overwhelming presence. You get down on your knees and remove your shirt, giving her a good unobstructed view of your naked breasts.

She rubs one of your nipples with her hand, making it stiff.

Your heart punds faster. She leans closer still, gently kissing your neck. You feel a light prick and an injection of euphoria. The world turns on its head.

'Now open wide, girl'

Somehow her clothes melt away and you see a long thick ovipositor between her legs. Your lips part away as the creature gets on top of you and pushes the apendage in your mouth.

'I want to be obedient. I want to submit. I want to please her.'

You diligently suck her organ, refusing to think and refusing to care about the realities of the situation. You want to be a good girl for your mistress.

After a while a burst of fluid fills your mouth and you eagerly gulp it down, feeling it splash inside your tummy.

Your view becomes blurry and the room is fading away. Suddenly you're on a giant spiderweb, intricate and complex, woven like a bed and drapes, and like blankets and sheets, like carpet and curtains. All around, the rooms is littered with bones of various shapes and sizes, all gnawed to a clean white. Beside them lay the corpses of smaller animals, sucked dry and shrivelled as if there remained nothing but a layer of skin covered by dry fur..

Your attention shifts back to yourself - laying on your back, body wrapped in a cocoon neck to toes, with only your head sticking out to breathe. You can't help but notice that your belly is bulging out abnormally, swollen to the size of a basketball. Your terror is multiplied as you feel a soft movement inside you and you start screaming.

'Hush, my dear, no need to fret' The teeth sink into your neck again and the darkness returns, this time deeper and final.. 'A shame, you were pretty... but you will be such a wonderful mother, I promise... when my children eat their way through your flesh... now sleep..'.

You wriggle helplessly, but the toxin does its work quickly and the world dissapears.

This is a modified excerpt from the game "Transylvania".

Suddenly, there was a blinding flash of lightning, illuminating every detail of the bathroom tiles, then there was an afterblink, and darkness.

The power had gone out.

There was the sense of déjà vu in her mind and the uncanny certainty that if she stayed, something really bad was going to happen. But there was something wrong in Cindy’s mind. So she stayed.
Beneath her, the grid of the drain slowly lifted up and moved to the side with a slow scraping noise. She looked down, but amidst the grey darkness of the room could only see the impenetrable black of the gaping hole. It was as if time had slowed down. Each heartbeat came like a resounding bell through her body, leaving an eternity before the next one.

TA-THUMP

Something moved in the gaping blackness, rising up from within. The thunder from the lightning finally came, close and deafening. She didn’t move.

TA-THUMP

There was a cold, slimy touch at the brim of her folds. It send a shiver through her spine and made her think of slimes after the rain. She lowered her body more.

TA-THUMP

The surface of the touch increased, exploring the entrance above it. It reminded her of snake’s skin, oily and cold. She could still run, get up, get away, save herself. She didn’t.

TA-THUMP

The creature from the drain pushed further and slipped inside her. Her wetness was making it easier for him. She looked down and saw the blackness coiling beneath her and plunging into her defenseless sex. It was fascinating.

TA-THUMP

The unearthly thing was thicker than her thumb and she felt it extend and contract as it made its way deeper inside her. Her head was starting to spin and her nipples were hard and erect. The creature slid another inch further.

TA-THUMP

Her hand darted down again. There was a spot that was craving attention. She touched it again, her finger brushing against the slimy surface of the thing that was moving inside of her. It didn’t matter. She started moving her fingers.

TA-THUMP

It just kept on sliding, inch after inch. She couldn’t tell if it was seconds or hours, but her belly was starting to feel bulged with a pressure inside her mounting. Perhaps if she grabbed it right now, she could still pull it out, she thought. Her hand just continued it rhythmic movements.

Time stopped existing. There was just darkness and the filth from the drain rising up to fill her. She imagined that it was all the nasty stuff that people had put in there, all the trash and rotten, gruesome bits somehow come to life. It was black and slimy and sliding inside her. Because she deserved it.

Hear breaths came in short. Reality was falling apart.

Finally she felt the slimy thing grow thinner until it there was nothing coming out of the drain hole any more and the last bit of its black body was swallowed by her greedy filthy hole.

This is an excerpt from the story "The Drain".

There are few fates the Eldar fear more than to be taken by their dark brethren, and there are few trophies prized more in the dark city than Craftworld Aeldari.

The Craftsman led the guests down the passage, his torch illuminating the ancient runes etched in the stones.

“Here are the rarest trophies, our greatest pride. The King has ordered to give you whichever you choose.” He entered the Chamber, where a handful of dark stems were sprouting from the ground, some with prizes hanging on them. He shone the torch on the nearest one. “I’ve been working on her for fifteen years. She is almost ripe now.”

The leader of the small group approached the fruit and traced a hand around her breasts. The Eldar opened her eyes and gave a soft moan, a line of drool dripping from her stretched tongue and onto her chest.

“Your craftsmanship is impressive,” commented the guest, examining the intricate web of ropes. “But fifteen years! I mean no offense, but this looks like a few days work at best.”

The Craftsman’s lips curled into a twisted smile. “No offense is taken, honored guest. I will be happy to explain the process.

First, you should know that very few Aeldari ever allow themselves to be captured alive, for they are aware of our means. The ones you see here” - he gestured at the handful of hanging fruit around the Chamber - “are a few decades’ worth of harvest.”. He slowly circled the dark stem next to him. “When we catch one, indeed the first steps are quick enough - her limbs are cut off and she is hung by the hair on an Emeri Stem, which drains all of her magical energies and uses them to sustain her life. This simple but effective technique ensures that she cannot use any magic of her own, but will be preserved in this state indefinitely.”

“I thought you trained them to be slaves of pleasure?” the guest tugged on the strings attached to the girl’s pierced nipples, eliciting a few shameless moans. “This one seems to be ready for use.”

“She is almost ripe indeed,” agreed the Craftsman. “But this is the part that takes time. When the fruit is first hung, it is naked. We let it sit for a year in the dark before offering to add the first layer of ropes. You should know that they are woven from special fibers that induce an effect of slight numbing and arousal. The ropes are only added if the Eldar immediately and profusely begs for them. In any other case, we leave the fruit to hang for another year before offering again.”

“You are crueler than I thought,” laughed the guest. “So the first time you tie her up, and then you pierce her?”

“Not quite so quickly,” corrected the Craftsman. “We add just enough rope to hold a small pattern. The intricate web you see here is the result of 7 patterns, which took a total of 10 years. Only then do we move on to the metal.”

“So she has resisted 3 times,” noted the guest.

“Oh, she begged each time. But sometimes it was not quite sincere enough.”

“And the others?” The guest turned to the rest of the fruit. “Do they see what happens to each one of them?”

“Indeed they do,” nodded the Craftsman. “It helps them to better understand the path ahead and speeds up their progress. But it is always an art of patience.”

“And the rings?” the guest tugged at the pierced nipples.

“They provide constant frustration and arousal. It is the final stage of the ripening.”

“Hmm. How do you know when they are finally “ripe”?”

The Craftsman smiled wider this time. “Their journey begins with torment and darkness. This brings madness, but we are careful not to allow them to slip into the comfort of insanity. We are lucky that Aeldari are incredibly resistant.” He turned the fruit around, exhibiting it from all angles. “With every element we add, a small part of the torment is replaced with pleasure and part of the madness becomes desire and frustration. They are ripe when they would do anything for pleasure.”

The guest nodded with understanding. “I will take this one then, when you consider her ripe enough.”

“Of course. We can test right away if the fruit is ready.”

The craftsman removed the chain that held the girl’s tongue. She remained silent, waiting for a question to be asked. His hand darted underneath her, toying with her folds.

“We can send you to be a pleasure slave to our honored guest. He will do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. Do you wish this, Eldar?”

“Please send me to be his!” she spoke without hesitation. “I will be good, I will do anything!”

“Hmmm…” His fingers plunged roughly inside of her, stealing a few moans. “I could allow you to go be his slave. But first I will cast a spell on your womb to make it compatible and fertile for your new master. You will help breed the most powerful warriors, so that we can catch and enslave all of your sisters. Do you wish it?”

There was a moment of hesitation as a shadow passed over her eyes.

“Yes! Please use me to breed as many as you want!” she shouted out, a tear rolling down her cheek.

The Craftsman shook his head.

“Close, but not quite there yet. I will give her another year and check if she’s ripe enough.”

The guest nodded and they exited the Chamber, leaving the stems behind, their fruits ripening in darkness.

This is a featured piece that was drawn by PinkInk.

The original picture can be found HERE

The story was written by Vincent Valensky.

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