Dec 262018
 

Oops, this should have been posted earlier but that is the holidays for you. It takes a lot of time just to get ready to take time off.

I will be traveling to the great city of Seattle this week and won’t be back until January 4th. The Vaquel story of the month will be late as I trashed my outline for the entire year of Vaquel stories in favor of something that will be fun. Regular blog posting might resume on the 10th? That sounds likely.

In the meantime, I hope you had a happy holiday season and wonderful start to your new year!

Dec 212018
 

Clarke’s 3rd Law states “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” That is a good way to describe what happens in science fiction stories, but I also see this a lot in fantasy stories. They treat magic as something as reliable as science. As long as you say the right words, make the right gestures and use the right ingredients, then your spell will work correctly every single time. If the magic doesn’t work, it is because the user fucked up.

This is the magic of Harry Potter, the Doctor Strange movie and fantasy erotica stories where wizards create hot tubs to have sex in. It is a perfectly acceptable way to do magic in your stories. In fact, most people recommend this as a consistent universe is something the reader needs in order to engage with your world.

(Fun aside, this includes the movie, Weird Science, where two horny teens hook up a doll and some porn to a computer and somehow get a hot woman with super-powers to help them out. That sure as fuck wasn’t science. That was a magic ritual. This changes nothing in the story, which shows you how interchangeable science fiction and magic can be.)

Another kind of magic is more like a relationship between the magic user and the forces they manipulate. The spell works because the caster has immersed themselves in the power they are calling on, or they perform tasks and sacrifices that the magical forces demand. In order to call down the lightning, the lightning has to like you first.

This is the magic of voodoo, the Doctor Strange of the 70’s comic, and the novel, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell. This kind of magic complicates things as every spell turns into a negotiation. You don’t just summon a bird to do your bidding, you borrow one of the Raven King’s minions and woe to you if you mistreat it.

Personally, I find the second kind more suitable for erotica. All sex is a relationship, and the better kinds of stories recognize that. If you are going to add magic to sex, why not take the opportunity to explore that relationship as well?

In order to call down the lightning, not only do you have to get the lightning to like you first, but then you need to seduce, sweet talk or bribe it. What does lightning want?  Does it want a kiss? Does it like nipples? Does it enjoy watching? Answering those questions can lead to fun developments, like an elemental threesome.


Dec 192018
 

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs is an anthology movie with six stories set in the American Wild West. The themes range from “Death will get you” to “No, seriously, Death will fucking get you.”

That is not a joke. Sudden death is a presence in every story.  It was jarring at first but once you accept it, the stories meld together to form a wonderful tapestry about the lethality of the Old West. By the time the sixth story rolls around, you will be nodding wisely as the characters discuss perplexing a man’s final moments can be.

This movie feels like a rebuttal to the discussions involving No Country for Old Men. Critics complained that the ending of that movie was too off, without a satisfying final battle. This movie feels like it is trying again to explain to audiences that stories don’t kill characters, characters kill themselves by the nature of who they are.

The first story, featuring Buster Scruggs, is about a singing cowboy that happens to be a murder machine to anyone who crosses him. That is easily the funniest story, although the second story about a luckless bank robber is pretty close. The third story is a silent, haunting story was too bleak for my wife to continue watching, but that story lingered with me the most and I think about it often.

After the grimness of the the third story, the fourth story, based on a Jack London story, inserts some life and beauty before returning to the theme of death. The fifth story is a lovely romance and the sixth is a delightful meta-story about the themes. 

As good as the stories are, the scenery steals the movie. Gorgeous shot after shot of the Western landscape made me nostalgic for a place I have never been. Even the imagery in the third story is breathtaking with its icy bleakness. The accompanying music is perfect and the soundtrack is a delight.

I am a big Coen Brother fan, and this one shoots to the top of my favorites list.

Dec 172018
 

Twenty years ago, the super heroine known as Eight Wonder fought against the sinister forces of Blowjob. The battles quickly became pornographic as Blowjob seemed obsessed with stripping, arousing, binding and humiliating the heroine. Thanks to government intervention, no one ever knew how dirty these fights actually were. After a final battle, Eight Wonder disappeared, as well as her enemies.

But today in the present, Blowjob has returned to menace the world. Lucky for us, Eighth Wonder has also appeared and it looks like she hasn’t aged a day!

That’s because the modern Eighth Wonder, Clara, is the daughter of the original, Athena. Because this is a manga, Clara doesn’t know that her mom used to be a superhero. Clara has been recruited by the government to become Eighth Wonder, having no idea of the sexual tactics that Blowjob is bound to use.

Which brings Athena out of retirement. She wants to protect her daughter, but again, since this is a manga, she does it behind the scenes so her daughter will never know the sexual adventures that her mom went through.

If you couldn’t tell, “Don’t Meddle With My Daughter” is a comedy. A really weird comedy that revolves around secret identities, embarrassed nudity and villainous names that are double entendres. This story could quickly degenerate into something dark and traumatic, but the light-hearted manga style keeps the story from turning squicky.

I was pleasantly surprised by how non-misogynistic these books are.  The main villain is a woman, and the mother-daughter relationship is really strong and cute. It is a ridiculous premise designed to titillate, but it truly cares for the characters it harasses and embarrasses.  It reminds me of the series, Empowered, except with a much stronger protagonist.

I believe the series has a dozen books now, the first three are available in English and from most online book stores.


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Dec 162018
 

Is there anything more magical than books? Maybe only a beautiful woman studying one. In fantasy games, I loved the idea of collecting spell books in order to gain power. Most games treat spell books as an afterthought, but I always wanted to play a campaign that revolved around seeking, finding and hoarding books. Now that I read about magic as a hobby, I get to do that searching and hoarding for real.

Today’s coven member comes from the wonderful Rich Larson. This is a gorgeous pencil sketch and it adorns the cover one of my magic notebooks.  

Dec 152018
 

In 1980, the Flash Gordon movie by Dino De Laurentiis was released. It is a joyous, campy movie that is a visual delight. In a better universe, we would be anticipating the 14 movie in the franchise while some fans cling to a little known 70’s movie called “Star Wars”.

Back then, movie companies would make book adaptations of their movies. Before VCR’s and cable, this might be the only way you got to enjoy a movie once it left theaters. A lot of those books were written by established writers who polished and in some cases, even perfected the original screenplay. I still find the Alien novel by Alan Dean Foster to be superior to the movie.

The Flash Gordon novelization is a weird duck. Written by Arthur Byron Cover, (a pseudonym if I ever saw one), this book has the hallmarks of having been written with no supervision at all. Arthur spends the first 50 pages of a 220 page book writing background histories for Flash and Zarkov. Zarkov is wonderfully weird but Flash has been reinvented as a sort of Zen athlete who is beginning to suspect that sports is not the most fulfilling career one can pursue. Flash is a paladin of virtue, an amateur pilot, and very smart on his own. This is not the idiot jock from the movie.

Ming and his minions get explored as well. Ming’s primary trait is boredom; he has mastered the universe and has no one to challenge him. He engages in extraordinary cruelty in attempts to see if they amuse him. His libido is barely active, which is why he acts when pretty Earthling, Dale Arden excites him. I’m not saying Ming is sympathetic, but his evil has a motive as he desperately fights his cosmic indifference.

The other addition to the original screenplay is sex. There are no sex scenes, but man, we get a good long look into what everyone is into. Dale’s last boyfriend was a swinger, Zarkov’s 2nd wife and the sex they had is the strongest memory he has, Ming and his daughter are DEFINITELY doing it, and Barin loves Aura, but knows their marriage has to be open. It is not what I expected from a major movie studio novelization.

With the kink and the backstories, is a lot of comedy and social satire. The movie was funny, but the book takes it to the next level. Ming and Klytus have a discussion on earth morality that is scathing. Actually, anytime the humans discuss government, morality or sex with the people of Mongo is hilarious.

All in all, this was written by someone who loves the original Flash Gordon source material, and takes frequent opportunities to both praise it and mock it. The book is more adult than I was expecting but the humor is also more political. The book isn’t easy to find but it is worth the search.

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Dec 122018
 

Sunstone is a comic book by Stjepan Šejić. It is about two women who come together to play BDSM games and end up falling hopelessly in love with each other, but have the hardest time expressing their feelings. It is lesbian kinky romance with side trips into hetero kink, but at the core is the very real and very vulnerable people that populate the story.

You know, I am burned out on BDSM romance but holy shit, am I hooked on this series. Part of the appeal is the truly gorgeous art. The other appeal is the super well-developed characters. Every person in this story has hopes, fears, traumas and quirks. Despite everyone looking like a pinup, they act like real people. This series doesn’t feel like BDSM porn, it feels like a real account of romance.

Speaking of porn, it is remarkable how there is little to no sex in this series. Characters get naked, and characters talk about sex and fantasies, but sex scenes are skipped over. It fits with the theme of the series, that all of the stories are told years later and therefore, the author can’t recount the blow-by-blow of what happens. It also keeps the focus on the story without sex scenes breaking up the flow of the plot.

This is the rare BDSM series where I feel like experienced people will enjoy it because it perfectly captures what it is like to be kinky and in love, and I feel like total newbies will also enjoy the series as it captures that euphoric new-kink energy that beginners have. I would also recommend it to vanilla people who just love a good romance story.

There are archives online of the series as well as hard copies you can purchase.

Dec 102018
 

Church of the Cosmic Skull is a seven person supergroup that has come together to form a new religion as well as make the best 70’s prog music of 2016. I am not sure what the religion is about but the music kicks ass.  Imagine the Blue Oyster Cult crossed over with Fleetwood Mac.

Here is my favorite song of theirs, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

 

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Dec 072018
 

I guess it started with role-playing notebooks. I was often the gamemaster so it would be up to me to write up the adventures. As I got more sophisticated, I wanted to keep track of continuity so I would fill up these spiral notebooks with maps, names and vague notes about plots.

As a player, I almost never took notes until I played Call of Cthulhu. Like any Lovecraft hero, I recorded my adventures into madness and despair. Those notebooks were very short.

When I started to write, I only needed one notebook. It had scraps of ideas. Once in awhile I might actually outline something. Mostly though, I used those notebooks to create lists of ideas I wanted to explore.

Nowadays, I have too many writing notebooks to count. There is a drawer in my cabinet filled with nothing by writing notebooks. I start one for each big project, scribbling ideas, character names, outlines and anything I can think of that I can’t use right away.

My chose-your-own-adventure books involve three of four notebooks for each one. I dedicate a page in the notebook for each choice, then I number every page. These notebooks become my hard copy outlines. I use a page for each choice because even though I usually only use three or four sentences for each choice, I rewrite a lot and I need that extra space.

When I got into magic a few years ago, every books recommends keeping a journal. This is so you can record your magical experiments and have a document that you can refer to. That is what it is for in theory, but I find that more often I find the empty pages to be a gentle reminder to do more magical stuff so I can have something to put in those pages. My magic journal is the only one I do on my computer, because I type way faster than I write and I don’t want the urge for brevity. Plus, it is backed up on three computers thanks to Dropbox.

When I moved to Wisconsin, I decided to take up bowling. My first few games were really bad and I got discouraged. I got a tiny notebook to fit in my pocket so I could record the days I played, how many spares and strikes as well as my scores. Only when I wrote them down did I see that I was actually getting better, just with some hiccups. I also found that I bowled for shit on Sundays.

When my Mom got cancer, I drove from Wisconsin to North Carolina to visit her. My wife was just starting her job so I had to go alone. It was the first real trip I had done by myself as an adult. I was a little nervous and overwhelmed by the details I needed to keep up with, so I got a notebook. Using a little magic, I have it a name and a personality to that not only do I have a notebook to keep track of my reservations, mileage and receipts, but I also created a placebo safety blanket of knowing my trip was magically protected.

This year I worked on my biggest book yet. It consumed so much of my head space, that I struggled to keep track of chores. I read a book that had a lighthouse keeper, and the book showed the deterioration of the keeper’s mental state by printing the daily report that he logged. There was something about the listing of chores he accomplished or didn’t finish that really clicked with me. I used to do something similar for my factory job, and I remembered how writing all the breakdowns on my machines made me feel better by how little I accomplished some days. I decided to start keeping a daily housework notebook, and it really helped me keep up with my chores as well as assure me on those days that I got overwhelmed.

Last month, I made fried chicken for the first time in ages. I remembered the seasoning blend, but couldn’t recall the cooking times. I had written them down, but lost track of it. We have a binder style notebook for recipes, but the times and temperature it listed was outdated. The book mostly contains recipes we have printed or cut out. what I really needed was a journal that I could write experiments or works-in-progress until I settle on a final recipe for printing and inclusion in the binder. So that’s why I got a spiral cooking notebook.

I put stickers inside my notebooks. It sounds childish, but it really makes the notebook stand out. It transforms the blank pages into something that has a life of its own. There is also a lot of adult themed stickers out there on the internet.

Anyone else compulsively notebooking?

Dec 052018
 

The woman in front of me turned around. “Fuck me,” she said.

Woman don’t say that to me often, and certainly not while standing in line at the post office. She was pretty with long blonde hair pulled back into a strict ponytail. Her jeans were tight, but her sweater was frumpy. Freckles spotted her face and she had a slight underbite.

“Fuck me,” she said again, loud enough for everyone to hear. She stuck her tongue out and it was unusually long. The tip of her tongue curled and uncurled, betokening me to enter her mouth.

No one reacted. The woman behind me sighed in boredom. The man in front of the blonde stranger shifted the box he was carrying from one hand to the other. They must have heard her.

“You’re not real,” I whispered.

The blonde rolled her eyes. She lifted her sweater to reveal a white bra holding massive pale breasts.

“Fuck me!” she yelled.

The man at the register called for the next customer. The line moved forward. The blonde walked backwards, still exposing her bra.

This wasn’t real. I knew that. This had happened before. She was some entity that I called up in lust and ignorance a week ago. It was just a card game; how was I supposed to know that the forces it dealt with were real?

The blonde pulled her sweater back down over her chest. She turned around and I heard her jeans unzip. In the awkward silence of the post office line, the sound of her zipper was impossible to ignore.

No one noticed. Not for the first time, I wondered if this was a hallucination. Was I experiencing some sort of wet daydream created by another? Did the blonde really have a white bra so transparent that I could see the saucers of her aureoles, or was that an invention of the capricious thing I had brought into this world?

The woman pulled her pants down. The tight jeans slid over her round butt and fell to her ankles. There were no panties. A strange scar covered the right buttock. Was the scar real or just another weird detail to this fiction I was seeing?

“Fuck me,” she said again, and this time she stepped back until her butt pressed against my crotch.

This felt real. My cock pulsed inside my jeans and against her ass. As discreetly as I could, my hips shifted and thrust towards her.

Oh God, it felt real.

The woman reached behind her. With a dexterity that couldn’t be human, she unzipped my pants and reached into my underwear. Warm fingers gripped my manhood and pulled it out. She pressed the head of my organ against her ass and slid it up and down her crack.

I looked around. A couple came in through the door with a clear view of everything the woman was doing to me. They frowned at the sight of the line and dutifully went to the end.

The woman leaned forward. She guided my cock into her sex. Wet heat gripped my shaft as I sank into her. The clenching walls of her sex held onto me.

I shuddered. My hands curled into fists. The urge to moan was incredible but I bit my lip. No one could see or hear what the woman was doing to me, but I didn’t know if I was just as unnoticeable.

This couldn’t be an illusion or daydream. I never felt a pussy this wonderful in any of my dreams. The entity must be controlling these people. It must have these people under some sort of a trance, so it can have its way with me.

The woman humped me. The sound of her wet sex getting filled grew louder and louder. She grabbed the hips of the man in front of her for support. He braced his legs and held the box in both hands as she held onto him.

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck, fuck, FUCK!” the woman cried.

The line moved forward. The woman held onto the man’s hips and the three of us took a step together. My cock never left her tight heat.

My climax approached. I lost control and grabbed her hips. My hands held her in place as I slammed into her. Frustration and fear drove my cock into her mysterious sex.

“YES!” the woman cried and then she cackled as she came.

I came as well. I yelled my orgasm to the uncaring line. Pleasure filled my body as I filled her pussy with me seed.

The woman slid off my cock. She pulled her pants up over her ass and the strange scar. The sound of her zipper was twice as loud as before.

I reached for my pants, but they were already zipped with my cock back inside. Did she do it or was it me? I don’t remember. It was always hard to remember details after the entity gives me an orgasm. It was one of the things that makes me doubt whether these encounters really happen or not.

The line moved forward. I took a step and my underwear stuck to my wet cock.

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