Prevues of Upcoming Attractions
After seeing what passes for horror on Yiffstar these days, I decided, why the fuck not. When in Rome, Do like the Romans. Besides, this will be my belated birthday present to Lykos Bane. Remember: Its not exploitation if you like it.
A Coccotti Studio's Production
Directed by 'Sleazy Pete' Mariano
A gray wolf shuffles through some steam rising through a manhole cover. His paws are tucked deep into his jean's pockets, protected from this creepy October night's child. His puffy green winter coat bunches from his slouch, and his Converse high tops squeak on the wet asphalt. From the slight stubble on his muzzle, he can't be more than twenty five, some punk wandering down side streets in the bad part of town, where no one has business at 1 am.
He passes by an alley and the small clatter of a trash can makes his lupine ears perk. He stops for a moment, heart thundering, the pads of his paws clammy now. He squints into the darkness of the ominous alleyway, but sees nothing. The jittery wolf takes a moment to push a stringy lock of his greasy head fur from out of his beady brown eyes before stealing off down the street again.
From the author who brought you 'Hellraiser: Hellsent', 'Taste for the Flesh', and 'Red Sheets for Valentines Day'
A passing car, its wet tires hissing as it flies by, hits one of the many potholes and splashes its mucky contents all over his jeans. The wolf curses softly, flying the driver the middle claw. It's a futile gesture; the soft red glow of the car's taillights the only thing lighting up the sour look on the wolf's scruffy muzzle now. He pushes up the left sleeve of his coat and glances at his watch.
1:12am. His mate isn't supposed to be home for another four hours.
Long enough for him to get his rocks off twice by that time.
His smile widens, one of his lupine ear's floppy now with anticipation. Behind him, another car crashes through the poorly maintained side street, its tires thumping and splashing through the deep, leaf dotted puddles. Its headlights illuminate the bare brick rear walls of closed pawn shops and shifty bail bond outfits. As the twin pools of light scrape past the graffiti and grime caked on the red brick, it momentarily illuminates the dark figure watching the wolf shuffle down the street from the previous alleyway.
Comes a depraved tale of vice, gore, and excessive fellatio.
All that can be seen in that brief moment is fuzzy detail of a black ski mask. Most of the figure's muzzle is covered, showing just a hint of their brow and white fur around its eyes. The figure could be anyone, any species. It is the look of anonymous androgyny. The once stolid look in those green predator eyes sharpen, narrowing with unfettered evil. Farther down a large masculine gloved paw tightens around the handle to a machete. The tight leather creaks, deadly pink painted claws digging into the molded plastic and sharpened steel.
The figure watches the wolf enter a squalid, but otherwise nondescript, one story cement building. A flickering blue neon light hanging in a dusty window proclaims the dubious establishment's name through the spiderweb of busted glass:
'The Sin Bin'.
Adapted from the 17th century Elizabethan novella 'Ma Pierre de Contact de Lèvres'
Inside the wolf lets the heavy steel door close shut behind him with a grating squeak. The opening riff of Planet Terror, with its heavy thumps and over stretched guitar solo, echoes through the narrow concrete entranceway. Sleazy porn music at its finest. He stops by a barred window and fishes out his wallet, flashing the nasty cougar sitting behind the glass his drivers license.
"Twenty Dollars, cupcake," the forty year old bot bellied bouncer hissed out, not bothering to even confirm the wolf's age. The cougar digs out some dead skin from around his ear piercings in boredom while the wolf fishes out a Jackson and slides it under the small window. "On your right."
The bouncer snatches up the bill and his gaze follows the wolf down the poster covered hallway, a lecherous leer on that tight wolven ass. The wolf's bushy tail flicks some as he passes by some doors, some of them purposely left open. He peeks his head in one, watching a grunting bear beating off his thick ursine meat to some scrawny fox twink dancing naked behind a pane of glass. The bear leans back into his sticky chair and flashes the curious wolf an inviting grin. His bare, furry chest is already coated with at least one spent load.
A festival of Porn and Pain. Admittance is free.
"Uggg yeah will you look at that?" The bear grunts, squeezing the swollen purple shaft toward the skank. It's veins pulse with lurid throb. The haughty fox presses his bony ass up against the window, black tipped tail swishing provocatively. His brown eye looks loose and flabby. The wolf grimaces.
"No thanks." The wolf grins to the bear and moves on.
"Ahhwww come on baby ... " A pleading look washes over the bear's short muzzle, his eyes still locked on the empty space of the doorway. He doesn't notice the curtain falling on the fox's side side of the viewing glass. It seems like their short time together is up. Once he notices the wolf isn't coming back, the bear snorts.
"Hey fuck you buddy!" he roars out just as a pair of ski boots step near the fox's own hind feet. There's a muted chop, and the vulpine's severed head drops to the floor with a heavy thud, thick ropes of gore still trailing from the bottom of his ragged neck. The dancer's hind feet jerk, stomping erratically as his severed nerves misfire. The fox's body continues to dance in ghoulish imitation just before the curtain falls all the way to the floor.
Dance fox, dance! Those liberal arts degrees don't pay for themselves.
The bear turns his head back after he notices the cheesy music has stopped and growls in annoyance at the curtain. His massive ursine paw fumbles about for some loose change laying on the sticky arm rest before he hamfists more money into the pay slot next to him. He closes his paw around his huge, ragging erection again, his entire body shaking now from the hard strokes. His sick eyes coat over with glazed lust as the music spins back to life and the curtain rises.
"Ugh ugh ... thats right ... show your daddy what you got ..." He licks this thick chops in anticipation, close already to blowing another nasty load all over the matted fur of his wide chest. The bear's expression turns to one of confusion as curtain rises, a look of horror and repulsion washing over his short muzzle as someone steps in from behind him.
The bear leaning back looks up just in time for a machete to get stabbed down through the bony orbit of his right eye. The tip of steel pierces through his frontal lobe, cutting off any thoughts of screaming the bear might of entertained. Blood and vitreous humor splatter outwards from the popped eyeball, running down the side of his head like the white and broken yolk of a cracked egg.
This is your brain on machete, any questions?
Meanwhile, in a different scene, the wolf passes by the doorway to a locker room. He pauses as his ears pick up short, clipped pants and mewls. His muzzle splits in a wide grin as he spies a nude coyote with black horn rimmed glasses laying on a bench in front of some opened lockers, hind legs raised and spread. The canid's eyes are closed, muzzle parted in ecstasy as the cheetah quarterback wearing nothing but shoulder pads and a football jersey holds his ankles up, pounding his barbed cock into the coyote's fuck hole again and again. Someone obviously has a high school situational fetish.
"Oh yeah," the wolf growls out, rubbing his thick sheath through the denim crotch of his jeans, "That's what I'm talking about." Instead of joining right away the wolf moves on to the bathroom to take a quick piss. A moment later the glint of a swung machete flashes in the shadows of the locker room. The wolf fails to hear the sickening chops of steel through sinew and bone over the the The Sin Bin's trashy background ambiance.
School's Out. And its Time to Play. Pinheads and Possessed Dolls sold separately.
A metal door to a scuzzy bathroom stall swings open with a short squeak, the dingy walls splotched with mildew and cum stains. The wolf steps inside and after wiping off the crusty toilet seat with the coat of his winter jacket, unzips his fly. He drags his pants and boxers down to his ankles. The unobstructed view of his heavy gray sheath is gaudy and prominent, lingering for more than is necessary. He finally sits down and futility attempts to close and lock the stall when he realizes the sliding mechanism is broken. Following an amused shrug, he leans backs and moans in relief. His bushy tail twitches behind him as his bladder empties. He'd been holding it since the apartment, fifteen blocks away.
But he's not quite done yet, oh no. The wolf takes a paw and pulls the long dong hanging clear of his furry sheath, stroking it with exhibitionist's satisfaction. His black muzzle lips part, brown eyes closed as the slick flesh in his paws swells to life under his attention. He takes his sweet time, squeezing just behind his tapered head and scraping a thumb claw over his dripping slit.
A slick noise in the stall next to him makes the wolf's brown eyes pop open, and he leans forward to peer through the hole in the thin wall between them. His fangs glint as his boner stiffens, gray ears twitching. He obviously likes what he sees: A black leather glove stroking a seven inch coyote cock. The icing on the cake are the pink painted claws. What a kinky fuck.
_The Readers are unanimous:
"i feel like throwing up. its such a terrible story ... cant stop reading though, i have a habbit of finishing everything i start reading." - Anubin_
"I nutted at the first spurt. Of blood I mean." - MintyFresh
"Hey, you." the wolf whispers, grinning. The slick noise stops. "Come here." Leaning back, the wolf has no issues with showing what he's packing. He gives the porn prized lupine pole a long stroke. From tip to knot base its a slow, drawn out eight inches. The tip of a long tongue waggles through the hole in the stall wall, teasing.
The wolf stands up with a smug glint in his brown eyes. With an awkward stumble, pants around his ankles, the lupine shuffles to the wall. He swivels his bare hips a bit, running his cock head over the tip of that eager tongue. Not satisfied with the meager amount of pre slathered across it, the tongue withdrawals. Wolfy looks disappointed until an index claw pokes through the hole and curls again and again, beckoning.
Without wasting another moment the wolf shoves his cock head through the hole, his half formed knot already squeezed. A moment later a wave of bliss washes over the wolf's muzzle as slurps and sucks echo from the other stall. The wolf's bushy tail swishes about in wonton raptor, brown eyes closed.
_The Critics agree:
"What the -fuck- is this? Its worse than Yiffstar pokeman slash posted by a fourteen year old!" - Heat Magazine.
"He misspelled wanton and rapture." - Anonymous_
His hips make slow grinds against the dirty stall wall, the small hole compressing his fleshy knot with each shallow thrust. The wolf places his paws up against grime caked wall for balance, giving the muzzle on the other side a good workout. His lusty pants fill the narrow stall over the rhythmic slurps. All appears well until the wolf's closed right eye twitches. His grin fades.
"Hey bitch, easy with the teeth!" His eyes shoot open when he knows something has gone terribly wrong. They widen as his muzzle lips, once parted in a expression of delight, splits in a grimace of agony. A scream peals through the bathroom, echoing through a blood splattered locker room. Inside the pay booth, his scream falls on the fox's and bears deaf ears, both slumped and dripping gore. It eventually makes its muted way to the front entranceway, where the bouncer lays slumped over the pay window, a fountain pen buried in the back of his skull.
The wolf shambles backwards, still screaming. His paws crosses over the ragged stump of his knot, still pumping blood and cum with soft spurts. Dark, thick crimson wells up from between his paws, running like a torrent down his legs. At the hole in the stall wall, a muzzle presses hard against the other side and spits out the wolf's severed dick, which flops onto the scuzzy stall floor. Blood and cum ooze off the glistening flesh, still throbbing.
A taste of things to cum
Gush after thick red gush pour over the wolf's jeans, still wrapped around his ankles. The floor becomes slick with gore, and the wolf's high tops squeak before his sneakers lose traction. The wolf slips and lands on his back, hard. His dazed brown eyes stare up at the stall wall just before the severed seven inch coyote dick gets pushed through the hole. It dive bombs the wolf, the wet tapered length smashing tip first into the wolf's right eye.
"Owhhh! What the FUCK!" He yells, blood covered paws flying up to cover his cock-slapped eye.
Bet you didn't see that coming.
Between his eye and groin, the wolf squirms on the blood coated floor, flailing about in agony. Without warning the door stall is kicked open, and the machete wielding maniac lurches inside. The last thing the wolf sees is a frozen close up of the psychopath's ski mask covered muzzle, hard set in a malevolent grimace. The tip of the machete is pulled up to the crazed, wide eyed glint of evil, ready to be swung down. The wolf's scream is cut off abruptly by a thick chop. Cheesy 80's horror font splatters across this page:
Glory Hole Massacre III
Did your boyfriend come home this morning?
Coming Spring 2010
If you didn't get it, go watch the trailer to 'Slumber Party Massacre'.
Many muzzle licks to Sanada-mutt for his early impressions.