How Excellia Got Her Horns

Excellia reflected silently on how much she hated her job. It had been a little more than a season since the amazon princess had abandoned her homeland and departed the jungles of Lak'Tathion. She'd left to seek strength in the wider world, to face great challenges and overcome them, to earn glory and respect among her people. But the wider world had proven to be utterly disappointing. It had been nothing but one foul-smelling barbarian town after another, performing menial tasks for a handful of the metal coins they used for currency. At this rate, she would be a wizened crone before she had even a single trophy worth any real honor. Looking inward, she cursed fate for trapping her in such a frail body. True enough, compared to the women of these barbarians, she was a goddess. Like all her amazonian sisters her skin gleamed bronze in the morning sunlight. Her long, wavy crimson hair cascaded down her back in a burning waterfall, all the way to the small of her back. She stood eye to eye with most of the barbarian menfolk, and every inch of her body was covered in toned, lithe muscle. Well, almost every inch. She was undeniably woman, with a shapely pair of orange-sized breasts and an undeniable curve to her hips. Her traveling outfit did nothing to conceal her glorious physique, originally consisting of nothing more than a wide cloth band threaded between her muscular thighs and held around the waist by a sturdy leather belt that bore furry pouches on the front and back, and the leather strap harness that held her mighty two-handed axe tight to her back. She'd added a wide, fitted cloth band over her breasts when the stares of the barbarian menfolk became intolerable.

Progress Report #1

UPDATED: 12/17

So, just a little bit of a heads up for those few of you who are paying attention to this blog.

I managed to finish National Novel Writing Month early, with 50,677 words on the 19th, so that's super-awesome. Feels great to know that I've actually managed to write a book even if it's kind of terrible at the moment and really needs the sequels to make the idea work properly. However, I have to say, the experience is most valuable to me because it showed me just how much work I can do, and how quickly I can do it, when I eliminate my distractions.

To illustrate that point, I've just finished the first draft of a long-overdue request, coming in at 9000+ words, and I pulled it off in two and half days of proper writing. If I keep up this pace, and this focus, I foresee a whole new horizon of productivity opening up before me. Just... oceans of porn.

Anyways, after this one, I'm planning to do another quick overdue request, and then get right back into Daddy's Home. [redacted]

[redacted]

UPDATE:
Thanks to some family shennanigans, it took for-fucking-ever, but I finally finished the rewrite of the story. I'm just waiting to hear back from the requester if it's done or not.
I really hope it's done, because this story weighs in at 17500 words. It is enormous, but in my defense, it's also pretty damn hot.
If it gets approved, I'll be trying to post it by the end of the week.

Daddy's Home Ch. 6

Chapter 6: The Naughty One

The guest room's silver doorknob turned, and the heavy door swung open wide. The scent of pure sex rolled out of the room like fog, freed from it's cage, and poured itself into the hallway, rolling around the legs of the powerful figure that loomed in the door frame. Richard cut an imposing silhouette, with the light behind him, his long shadow falling across the carpet of the hallway and onto the opposite wall, concealing his features in darkness. As he stepped through the portal into the hall, the lighting began to even out, and one could see his thick, powerful slabs of rippling muscle, only further emphasized by the sheen of sweat covering his body. Between his legs swung a fearsome monster, only half-hard and still more than a foot long, struggling to support itself it's own immense weight. The titanic shaft gleamed with the juices of the peacefully slumbering petite teen not fifteen feet behind him, her swollen womb still swimming with a gallon of potent baby-batter. He'd certainly enjoyed their intense fuck, but he shifted his attention to the task at hand, to do the same for three more girls before the day's end. His member lurched with it's approval of the plan.

He turned for the stairs and began to stride forward, long, confident strides quickly eating up the distance to his next target. He had to admit, he was somewhat curious as to what the girls had all been doing while he was occupied with Aiko. Almost as though to answer his unspoken question, a faint and curious sound met his ears, one he almost recognized. He paused, listening intently for the source of it for a long moment before it came to his ears once again. He turned, his previous haste forgotten as curiosity overtook him, eyes looking on the door to his daughter's room, a sliver of light escaping into the windowless hall through the tiny gap between door and door frame. His brows furrowed as he tried to place the sound he was hearing, it was just too quiet to place it but he knew he recognized it somehow. He reached out, pushing the door open just a little bit wider. A scent rolled out to meet him, a familiar scent, but one just as unrecognizable as that odd sound. Speaking of the sound, it definitely got louder as the door opened. And now there was a new sound, a hum that rose and fell in volume, a rhythmic pulsing. He puzzled at that for a moment, before curiosity got the better of him and he pushed the door open wide enough to stick his head in.

Daddy's Home Ch. 5

Daddy's Home: Ch. 5; The Shy One

Before Rich now stood a scene so intensely erotic and so improbable that most people would call it 'too unrealistic' in all but the cheesiest of pornos. Five barely legal teenage sluts, all of different descriptions and bearing different appeals, his own daughter among them, all covered in gallons of his thick cum after an intense five-on-one blowjob. And now he was faced with a choice, a choice that every man has fantasized about at least once in their life, a choice very few would ever be able to make. He smiled, looking over the buffet of teenage sex before him. “Now... Who's going to be first?”

Each girl before him was astonishingly beautiful, the sort of beauties that a man might brag about for the rest of his life, an indulgence that few would be able to experience even once.  His sweet little girl, Samantha, not quite so innocent in his eyes anymore, with hypnotically alluring, glossy black pouty and talented lips. The devoted one, Rosa, her hourglass figure still softly trembling as the last vestiges of a powerful orgasm faded to afterglow, her fingers still teasing out the last of it from her sensitive folds. The proud one, Diamond, with an amazonian body and a mind-boggling ass, wrapped in dark chocolate skin that contrasted sharply against his pearly load on her features. The wild one, Anna, with bright copper locks  and tits that could only be called 'epic', with a dirty mouth that always knew what buttons to push. And finally, the shy one, Aiko, a petite Japanese beauty with a tight, toned body and what looked to be a fixation with his seed, her body still softly shivering as she eagerly lapped his ball-batter from her face and hands.

Daddy's Home Ch. 4

Daddy's Home: Ch. 4; The Girls Arrive

10:05 AM: The Butler home.

The entire normally-tidy house looked like a tornado composed of beer, hormones, and tacky costume parts had raged through its halls. Empty beer bottles, discarded stockings and gloves, the occasional puddle of teenager-vomit, and even a few still-unconscious party-goers were scattered about, tucked into corners or slumped against walls. Someone had left an empty knee-high high-heeled boot standing by the stairs, and somebody else had decided it was as good a place as any to deposit a technicolor yawn. One by one the lingering guests were still struggling to rise from their resting places, and shuffle, zombie like, back to their homes, under the weight of some simply monstrous hangovers. Glasses and plates were broken, remotes and other devices mysteriously missing, some things moved to some inexplicable locations, to be discovered at some later date. All in all, a rather successful party, even if Samantha didn't show up.

It was a rather standard state of affairs after a party thrown by Annabeth Butler, the curvaceous redhead who planned the event, the only daughter of the homeowners. She was, at the moment, sleeping off a devastating hangover in her room. The room itself looked much like the rest of the house did, though with fewer bottles and no puke. This was it’s natural state, however, not caused by last night’s festivities. Anna slept on the rumpled bed, the sheets cast away in the night to reveal her nearly naked form. Her brilliant coppery hair formed a halo around her sleeping face, the tight curls spread around her on the pillow. Her face was covered by the smudged and smeared makeup she hadn't had the energy to shed last night, somewhat obscuring her features. Her very pale skin was soft and creamy, decorated with a constellation of tiny freckles, a band that across her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose, and another that ran up one arm, over the shoulder, across her chest along the uppermost slopes of her fantastic tits, and down the other arm again. Those immense globes caught quite a bit of sun, each one nearly the size of a basketball, barely contained at the moment by a custom-made sleeping bra that kept her endowments from wobbling wildly with every moment. If ever a chest had deserved the descriptor ‘Epic‘, this was the one.

Daddy's Home Ch. 3

Daddy's Home: Ch. 3; The Morning After

The morning sun filtered through the bedroom’s blinds, casting lines golden of light on the bedroom floor. These lines slowly crept up the bed, illuminating a chaotic scene. The sheets are a mess, thrown all around the bed in messy piles and thoroughly wrinkled. Pools of cum had dried up overnight, leaving crusty spots here and there, and in the middle of the mess was the naked form of Samantha, sprawled across the king-sized bed, laying where she’d fallen in the wake of some truly incredible sex, sprawled on her back. The light crept up her body slowly as the sun rose higher, from her black leather boots, past her well-fucked pussy, up to those massive breasts. Her nipple barbells glimmered in the morning sun as the rays of light rolled over those imposing peaks, before the sunlight finally settled on her eyelids.

Her eyes squeezed tight as the light hit them and she tried to shut out the light as much as possible, but it was already too late. The sudden light had woken her, despite her best efforts. She groaned her displeasure at being awoken and rolled over, pushing her face into the sheets to try to escape the coming of morning, seeking to flee back into the blissful darkness of sleep. It took her a moment of feeling the silk on her cheek before she realized that these weren't her sheets. Suddenly, the events of the previous evening came rushing back to her, a blur of sex, cum, and orgasms. So many orgasms. Then she felt the ache from between her thighs and groaned again. Perhaps six rounds was too many for one night… Not that she regretted a second of it. Her pussy throbbed softly, a gentle ache and a naughty tingle rolling over her with each pulse. She smiled she ran a finger down her belly to touch her clit at the memories of last night, of her and her daddy, bodies wrapped around each other in the throes of what had to be the most incredible sex in history. Speaking of him, where was he? She glanced around the room, rubbing the sleep out of the corners of her eyes, and found him absent. Well, knowing daddy, there were only a few places he would be before noon. She smiled softly as she rose from the bed, reaching out to take hold of her phone. It was just as well he’d left already, she supposed. She had some calls to make.

Daddy's Home Ch. 2

Daddy's Home: Ch. 2; First Time

Ten minutes has never felt so long for anyone else in the world. It had only taken a minute for Rich to get everything cleaned up downstairs, and then he’d headed upstairs. And that’s when he’d started to wait. For the first minute or so, he lay on the bed, eagerly anticipating what was going to happen next. Then he began to doubt, and once he began, it ran around in his head, getting worse and worse. Was this really the way a father should be acting? She said she wanted it, but did she really know what she wanted? She was only a teenager, after all. Was this taking advantage of her? Was he a good father? Would a good father force his little girl to suck him off and swallow every inch of his shaft? What if he’d scared her off by being that rough? What if she regretted everything now? What if she was sneaking out the bathroom window right now to run away? Or to report him to the police? Or child services? What if she was running through the streets half-naked and screaming rape? As his paranoia grew, he began to pace around the bed, running a hand through his hair, struggling with these moral questions.

A glance toward the door suddenly cleared his mind of his worries. There, in the door frame, was a boot. A black leather platform boot, with gleaming silver buckles all the way up to the knee, and an extra-tall slutty heel. Emerging from the boot was a black-and purple striped stocking that went about halfway up the thigh of a very shapely, pale leg. The source of the leg was hidden by door frame, a luring sight as the toe slowly dragged across the floor, almost beckoning with the movement. He felt a fresh rush of blood returning to his flagging hard-on, swiftly bringing it back to its former glory.

Daddy's Home Ch. 1

Daddy's Home: CH. 1; Welcome Home

Richard Johnson was a patient man. He had to be, bearing a name like his. He was a calm, level-headed man, who generally lived by the rules and made reasonable plans for the future. He was responsible, dependable, and cautious. For two years and three months, he’d been a loving husband, and for the seventeen years since then, he’d been a good, loving father to his daughter. That’s not to say he was an average sort of man. He’d lived a very unusual life. He’d always been a bit of a jock, and played tackle on the football team in his school. When he was eighteen, he’d married his high school sweetheart. Unfortunately, he hadn't been impressive enough to merit a scholarship like some of his teammates, but he soon landed in his feet in an unexpected profession. Professional wrestling. Initially he was part-time, wrestling at a local gym for a cut of the tickets while he went to college. But when his wife passed, he’d left school and thrown himself into his work to make the money he needed. Over the next eight years, he’d risen up to the national stage under the persona of ‘Tombstone’. The costume was a bit embarrassing, a weird combination of KISS’s costume style and Lobo’s personality, with a dash of Hulk Hogan for good measure. While his co-workers spent their fortunes on large houses and extravagance, he invested and saved his money. In his eighth year, he suffered an injury to his knee, and had to retire. Since then he’d spent his time at home living with his daughter, occasionally going off for a few days at a time to do commercials or the occasional movie appearance.

For a man of 36, he was in great shape. He had to be to fit into the costume. He stood 6’4”, with broad, powerful shoulders, muscular arms, and sharply-defined abs. He had short black hair that he spiked up when in costume, sharp blue eyes, and a handsome face with a square, clean-shaven jaw. He had a fake mustache to wear in costume, he got recognized too often if he just let it grow. At the moment his muscular figure was wrapped up in business casual, a white, collared shirt that bulged around his muscles, black slacks, and worst of all, a tie. He hated ties. Currently he was driving back home in his favorite car, a cherry red muscle car with a very satisfying roar when he pushed down the gas. He only allowed himself to drive it when he was doing appearances. He cranked the wheel right and turned onto his street, casting his gaze toward his home. It wasn’t a huge house, but it was more than big enough for just him and his daughter. Two stories, four bedrooms, a large kitchen, a finished basement with a home theater and a full gym, an in-ground pool and a hot tub in the back, and a two-car garage. And best of all, the place was paid for in full, no more mortgage to worry about.

Welcome!

Welcome, one and all, to my brand-new blog! Regardless of who you are and where you've come from, I'm glad you made it. I'm Admiral Squish, or Squish, or Squishy if you're feeling particularly affectionate for some reason. I'm a writer, and I write naughty stories. For the most part, stories of particularly well-hung, muscular males, exceptionally curvaceous females, and what happens when these two extreme examples of their genders meet. However, my stories are not for everyone. There may be extreme endowments, incest, impregnation, young characters, rough sex, dominance, begging, interracial, and many combinations thereof. There will also be romance, character development, and, hopefully, characters with real depth.

Now, as to where you are, exactly. This is my blog, and it's is where I'll be posting all my stories as I finish them, since not all of the places I post things to will accept all the different sorts of materials I intend to put forth in the future. That, and it's generally handy to have at least one place with everything all together. Anyways, you're not here to listen to me talk. You want me to get down to the good stuff. 

Well, ask and I shall deliver! Here we go!