Brand-New Toilet: Taking the Plunge

Alright, here it is, a third warning of watersports. If you don’t like it, turn back now. Otherwise, enjoy!


Just as I had cleaned her up and slipped her clothes haphazardly back on, I took the Z-girl in my arms and carried her out princess style. By this point, I was kept going  by full on panic and fear and somehow found myself walking  to the store’s best kept hiding spot: The Plumbing hole.

The Hole is a small pocket of random stuff in the back of the store, where most of our plumbing supply is. But even more odd, was the fact that I went halfway across the store to get there and not a single person could see I was carrying a semi-dead, unconscious body.

However, I finally reach the Hole and lay her down on top of a pallet of boxed tub liners, which believe it or not, is actually pretty comfortable. I pace back and forth down the narrow walkway of the plumbing hole for about twenty minutes, before she wakes up again.

My first instinct was, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rape you.”

God that was stupid.

She rubbed her eyes, “It’s okay…. Thankies though.”

“Excuse me?”

She stretched out and, for what felt like the first time, made me see her full appearance. She was quite plump for a zombie girl, a bit nice and curvy now that I thought about it. Her eyes from before were as empty as they were now, but with a little more hint of green, and even a small, almost unnoticeable, piercing on the left corner of her nose. Other than that, I had put her back into her gray jeans, which I won’t say how tight they were, and her casual black tee, which gave hints of her erect nipples too.

I already had sex with her and I’m getting horny, again!?

“I kinda need to thank you for…doing that.” She spread over the makeshift bed hiding her face in the collar of her shirt, “When you’re undead, you need a source of…lubrication?…like a machine does.”

 “So, basically…you needed someone to fuck you so you could move?”

Shakes her head, “Yep. Quite stupid really.” She blushed a bit, “Y-You were really good too, I’ll give you that…”

“And that’s another thing, you were a virgin?”

She went completely red, despite her pale complexion, “I-I…yes I was, but I needed to…move and survive I guess? It wasn’t much of a big deal-“

“It is a big deal!” I blurt out. I didn’t mean for that to be too loud. “That is…kinda a sacred thing. Trust me, you’ll regret doing that in the long run.”

Was now stepping into some personal territory, which probably made me seem kinda irritable to her, but no, she just bounced back like a happy little doggie.

“Well, that would be true, but I plan on sticking with you for a while.” Cutsie smile at the end.

“Say what?”

“You heard me. You took my V-card, now you get to take responsibility.”

Line straight from a hentai.

She says this right as she starts to slide off the pallet all seductive-like and proceeds to get really close to me. If anything at this point, with those beautiful, despite undead, lips in reach, I would’ve jumped at the chance of more of that sex. Then my radio goes off and brings me back to reality.

They start calling my name over the radio, probably trying to see where I am. I look to the Z-girl, “Look, we can talk about this later, but I have to work. Just…stay back here for a little while. I’ll come up with an excuse and we’ll head outta here okay?”

She only gave me a slight nod and sat back down on the pallet, albeit still semi-seductively. I’m not gonna lie, I was expecting more of a fight. I guess I can thank whichever God for that not happening. 

Before I skip off back to my station again, I just had to know. “Hey, what’s your name?”

She looked kinda sleepy and drowsy on the pallet, “Jane.”

“John. Nice to meet you Jane.”

.   .   .

I waited about an hour before heading up to my boss and make up some bullshit excuse that I’m having stomach pains and going home. I chat him up for a few minutes with how I went to some hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant and he bought it after that. Don’t underestimate the power of spicy foods.

So I run back to retrieve my bag and go to the Hole to find Jane still sitting on that pallet, reading one of our fliers for some barn equipment. She managed to word out, “Dull. What else can I re-“

I cut her off by pulling her with me as we head up the main isle and out the store front; just barely miss the gaze of my boss. Whew, hard part accomplished. 

“So where do you live?”

I look back to see the Z-girl holding her fingers around a belt loop of my jeans. “I live close enough to walk.”

As per my usual routine, I head up the low running hill beside the store, followed by Jane around my belt loops still. I push her gently in front of me and walk with her up the hill and, after some where around ten minutes had passed, finally said, “Okay, I’m scared for my life right now.”

She just sputters a laugh, “Pfft, what!? Why?”

“Think of it this way, I just raped you in my work’s bathroom, came inside you, then made you endure the golden shower, and you’re treating it like nothing. Now tell me why I shouldn’t think that you are either going to kill me or get the cops on me?”

She smiled. I shit you not, she smiled and put her arm around me and said, “As I said you helped me out. Trust me, getting raped in a public bathroom wasn’t my best idea but it still worked.”

I move a way just a tad back to the side of the road, “How in the hell did you even get tied up like that?!”

Then she kinda retreated back behind me and held to the back of my shirt, “T-that’s not important…”

“Come on tell me.”

She gave off a whimper and mumbled, “I did it myself…”

“You tied yourself up? That good?!”

“Yeah, I know I’m a big pervert! Sue me…” She kinda grumbled under her breath.

Once more, shoving her beside me, I start fingering for my headphones, “I wouldn’t, I’m a bigger perv than you. Music?”

She rolled her eyes, “Doubtful. Sure, you got some Motely Krue?”

I hand her one side, “Says you. Gimme one sec…” I tab on my phone screen a few times and we’re blessed with some good 80’s Rock. 

Both of us were kinda swaying and knocking our heads around like we were center stage in a Hall of Fame concert. Definitely not your everyday, looking couple.

.   .   .

About another ten minutes later, we arrive down Winscott street and round the corner of the Village Creek apartment complex. By this point, I’ve turned the music off and lead her up the stairs to my building. 

I’m now feeling like that embarrassed school boy inviting his first girl over. “Sorry about the mess, I don’t usually have company here.” 

She twirls her tousled hair, “It’s fine really. I don’t expect much out of you.”

“I don’t know if that’s an insult or a compliment.”

“A bit of both.”

We pass by my Manticore neighbor, who I greeted on the way to my door. As I turned the key and opened up, I see my neighbor giving Jane a wink and thumbs up, to which she returned likewise.

We get inside and I wave off my neighbor and shut the door. Neighbors are always nosy.

“What did you tell her?”

Jane smiled, “Nothing at all. She was just glad to see you with a girl.” 

Damn neighbors. “Well…home sweet home.”

I point to the small entry room where I had a modest couch, a tv and converter, and a sprawl of pillows. To the left of those was a kitchen with horrible yellow tile for counter tops, green cabinetry, and a small microwave and fridge. 

“Well, it is a bit messy, but not as bad as I was expecting.”

I drop my bag on the couch. “Thanks…want anything to…never mind.”

“What? Forgot I was a Zombie?”

“Yeah…it’s a force of habit. If its any consolation, you don’t look too like a Zombie.”

“Oh I bet you say that to all the girls.” She drops down onto the couch and hugs a pillow. Great, already marking her territory.

I look in the fridge and pull out some last bit of pizza from the other night and immediately chow down. Pizza is pizza no matter if it’s cold.

“So…Jane, what do you mean take responsibility? I apologized and all that, plus you were kinda asking for it, so what?”

She thought for a moment, “Well…I’m not sure really, but I was wondering if you could help me out you know? I’m kinda new to the monster scene here…”

“Help you out how?”

“Well…you could let me crash here for a bit…maybe?”

Should’ve figured it was coming to this. “You’d really want to stay here? In a strangers apartment? I wouldn’t really mind letting you, but I really only have a couch and air mattress, not even a full bed.”

“That’s fine, “She points to the door next to me and giggles, “That’s the bedroom, huh? Bet you got porno mags there too.”

I shrug, “So what if I do? And don’t change the subje-“

She jumped from the couch and threw the pillow at me and knocked the pizza out of my hands. Fuck, it was the last one. She flew off to the door and slipped right on through. I get in to the closet sized room, to see her already starring at my, what was supposed to be, hidden hentai stash and giggling like a school girl.

“Hey! I had this one too!” She was going through it and reading the shit like it was People magazine. 

I snatch it out of her hands, “Were you raised in a barn? You don’t just up and look at other people’s porn! You have to ask to see.”

As I set the comic back on the dresser, I feel the world turn upside down as I was pulled down onto my air mattress. Next thing my eyes got was not the ceiling but Jane’s face, licking her lips.

“You didn’t ask to see mine, so you owe me~”

“See your wha-?” She inhaled my lips before I finished speaking and went wild on my mouth. For the first time, I felt powerless and like hell was I gonna make her stop. She broke away and pushed me harder against the mattress, fumbling her buttons off her pants.

“It’s my turn to enjoy~”

I slip my jeans halfway off as quick as I can, “The hell are you talkin’ about? I fucked you silly. and you know it!”

Throwing her gray jeans and black panties aside, she threw herself higher up to my mouth and turned her ass to me, grinding her wet mound against my lips, “Then do it again~”

I found what they meant by ‘eat the booty like groceries’. 

I grabbed around her thighs plunged tongue first into her wet pussy, slurping and licking like it was reflex. She yelped a bit and started bubbling her hips back and forth off my mouth; at the same time, rubbing at the tip of her clit.

“Ahh~ Fuck John~”

My tongue was pushing through her folds and thrashing in her like it was drowning. My hands found their way around her legs and onto her nice big ass, making dimples in where my fingers clenched.

“You tashte gwood. Mhmm.” Was all I could really muffle out from under her. I’ve gone down on chicks before but for some reason this was better. Her snatch actually tasted sweet and her juices dribbled out like A class honey.

Jane, shoved her legs closer to my head and buried me in her crotch, shivering out her teeth, “O-oh God~!”

She was vigorously rubbing her clit and making cute moans every time I poked inside her. Just then I felt it clench and tighten. 

“Get ready pervert boy, it’s my turn to give you the shower~”

No sooner said than done, did her pee hole open up and cascaded her clear mist. She gasped a few times as the relieving sensation over took her and rubbed her pissing slit all over my face.

If she thought this was punishment, hell no!

I took her by surprise and gobbled her whole snatch into my mouth and clamped down around her thighs to where she couldn’t move away. I made several gulps of that bitter goodness and almost chucked a few loose drops of it when I saw her writhe and stiffen in orgasm; with a laudable “Ahh~!”

When she finally stopped and slide off of my head, I made sure to hold that last bit in my mouth and gulped it down right in front of her eyes, followed by a breath of hot air and a smile.

Then, I shit you not, she  full on fucking kissed me! I don’t mean like reserved or a peck, I mean we full on sucked faces. After long and drawn out french, she pulled right off and licked her lips, “I like the taste of that~”

I have never had a harder boner in my life. This shit was hard enough to break the vault at Fort Knox.

I seize her and push her back down on the mattress with strength I thought left me and capped her mouth with my own before she could gasp or protest. Even better, I leapt in such a way to line up just perfectly with her pussy and slid right on in without resistance. 

Her moans erupted from our mouths and I smoothly dig into her folds, slowly easing all the way down to hilt. It was completely different than it was in the toilet. This warm feeling of us clung to each other, this passion, was way more intense than it was before.

I had all the time in the world, and I was going to appreciate everything about Jane. I snaked my hands up her black shirt and grab hold of her modest breasts and thumbed about over her nipples, all the while pushing and pulling in and out of her like a slow moving piston.

With Jane, everything just became calmer. She raked her fingers along my back and shred through the back of my work shirt, running up into my hair too as she continued to eagerly kiss. 

Her now stretched shirt had worn it’s way up around her neck and her breasts now pressed against me with almost unnatural softness. She finally pushed my lips away and placed one finger on them.


That cracked the whip.

I lay up on my knees and put my arms around her thick ass and stood up with her bottom half in the air and slammed harder. She almost immediately started yelling out, cursing out God or anyone else that was listening, as I hit the base of her womb repeatedly.

I didn’t care who heard or knew what was going on now, I was fucking Jane so hard I felt like a marathon runner. I could feel the insides of her get wetter and wetter as our pre fluids mixed; making those sweet dirty sex noises that just made me want to fuck her harder.

Jane got the same way. She was moaning and yelling out the top of her lungs, incoherent words flung out as her snatch was invaded. Her hands were uselessly grasping at the mattress, which thankfully didn’t burst, and her feet wrung themselves up to my neck. From this position, it seemed like I was banging a bonifide gymnast. 

I felt the walls of her clit squeeze on my with a soft lined, iron grip and all but begged for my seed. Just over the humble twin mounds, I could see Jane’s ‘O’ing mouth and her eyes pleading.

With a few more herculean thrusts, we reached a brief stop before the dam broke and I shot ropes of cum down her twitching womb. Jane let out an almost ear breaking scream of ecstasy and jolted her hips sporadically on my impaling cock, her orgasm sending her whole body in a fit.

I lost all feeling in my legs and dropped back down to my knees again and collapsed on her. We stayed like that for a while, just laying on her as we both breathed like worn out dogs. Her body still twitching from the after shocks of orgasm as mine was almost completely limp, save for my steel beam still stuck in her snatch.

After what felt like an eternity, she brushed at my hair and made a small smirk, “That…was way better…than the bathroom…”

I pecked her neck, “I always …was more of the hands-on…passionate sex kinda guy…”

We both just kinda payed there and looked at each other’s eyes for a while. Then, like it was a godsend coincidence, we both said,

“Round two?”

.   .   .

Three more times after that, I was almost dead as Jane was. Well, she is a zombie, but you still get the point. She laid down coddled up on my chest and slowly drifting her hand over my stomach. We had been quiet silent for a while, save once more for our heavy panting, but that has since died down.

But now we laid in silence, as the blinds up behind us told the day was almost through.

I raked my hands through her hair and I thought to myself for a little while. Then I finally got up my courage and shuffled her a bit closer, “Hey Jane?”

She didn’t really move much, probably finding my chest to be as comfortable as any cushion. “Yeah, John?”

“Tell me about you. What are you like?”

She lets out a low hum and leans her face up to meet my eyes, “Well…I used to be alive.”

We both kinda smiled, “No doubt about that.”

She continued, “I used to live down near Frisco. I went to school at this high school across the street and was on our school volleyball team. My family consisted of me and my parents, as an only child. I graduated and was going to go to college when I died…”

I slowly kinda turn over to face her, “How’d you die?”

She hid under my arm, “It’s…it’s embarrassing….”

“You can tell me. You can tell me anything.”

She stares at me for a drawn out minute and finally sits up and places her hands in front of my face, wrists bent out. She had multiple cut lines on each wrist and a long one down the length of her arm.

How in the hell did I not see these before?

“As I said, my family was just me and my parents. They ended up arguing every night and finally divorcing, but life just sucked after that. Then one thing lead to another and soon I was just flat out depressed….and…and…”

She hadn’t realized that she was crying, at lesat not until now. There was no need for thought as I pull her back down into my arms and wrap them around her. She sobbed for a while on my chest while I softly cooed and rocked her, gently trying to calm her back down. With her this close, there was no heart beat, no pulse or nothing. She was cold like a stone in my arms, to anyone she would be dead.

But despite that, the closeness and how the fact that she actually was, semi, alive, I cursed to myself for popping another boner.

She whimpered just a bit more before noticing my secret and, to my surprise, up and laughs, “Does that thing ever go down?!”

I manage a smirk, “Not really. The thing attractes to much attention sometimes.”

Rolling out of the cradle of my arms, Jane lightly smacked my chest, “Haha~ Funny.”

We both kinda sat there for a moment and looked at each other. She still had just the bare remainder of tears left, which I casually stroke away with my fingers. There we were, two people on an air mattress, in a small crapped room in an equally small apartment, looking at each other like we just found heaven.

As I began to speak, all thoughts of everything else was gone, it was now just me and Jane. “Janie, I’m sorry that you went through that.” 

She nodded slightly and managed a whisper, “It’s okay…”

This time I pull on her arms and press her directly to my chest, our noses tip to tip and eyes level with one another. “But, I’m slightly glad that it did happen…otherwise, I wouldn’t be here…with you…”

Her eyes widen and a small smile spreads upon her face, “Oh stop, John, you’ll make me cry again…”

“You can cry all you want, but you better do it in my arms.”

She lightly slapped my shoulder, “Casanova now, huh?”

“Only after a few good fucks, I guess.”

We giggle and lay there together. The image was quite different than I thought it would be: me and zombie Jane, stretched out in each other’s arms, over an air mattress in a cramped room, in a similarly cramped apartment. Not quite the way I pictured it, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey Jane? Were you serious? About staying, I mean?”

Her eyes glowed with joy, “Yeah…if you’ll have me…?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, but I don’t have too much to offer you know? I-I mean sure you don’t eat and stuff, but we’d need to get you clothes and stuff, a place to sleep and-“

She slipped her thigh right up the base of my dick and up against my balls, “I’ll be just fine if I get to be with you and your pussy whipper there~”

I squeeze on her ass and pull her over top of me. “Then I best better get to work, huh?”


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37 thoughts on “Brand-New Toilet: Taking the Plunge

  1. >”No sooner said than done, did her pee hole open up and cascaded her clear mist. She gasped a few times as the relieving sensation over took her and rubbed her pissing clit all over my face.”
    >rubbed her pissing clit all over my face
    >her pissing clit

    U wot m8?
    Are you a virgin or just a literal faggot that’s only ever fucked a male and therefore can’t into female anatomy? The clit is not the hole that pee comes out of.
    That line alone ruined this entire story for me. 0/10 would rather drink piss.

    1. That was actually a spelling error, which was supposed to be ‘slit’. Fixed it.

      I know my anatomy and that of a girl’s too.

      Tell me later on how good that piss tastes.

          1. Maybe you should get a wee(wee) bit better sense of humor if this is enough to crack you up

          2. Pissing in the wind on that one, bro.

            I’m just a sucker for good puns, I got enough humor.

      1. You will. XD I’m too fond of interfering in monster girl sites and threads.

        Glad you finally feel you can hug me :P, you know me on MGE Wiki as Camran1005. Just thought you’d like to know. 🙂

  2. A personal pet peeve of mine is when people post “if you don’t like it, don’t look at it!” When writing a controversial subject as if that exempts you from any kind of criticism. Not only is it an SJW phrase when fat women walk half naked in public, but it also makes you look like you don’t take criticism well. Just because you’re writing about a gross fetish doesnt make you exempt from reviews saying “this story is piss poor.” If anything it makes people want to write those kinds of reviews even more.

    Just don’t be a faggot. Accept the fact that people won’t like your story.

    1. I do not feel I should be exempt from any criticism, although I would only state that to people who would just like to bash on it for the sake of their preferences.

      I would lovingly except constructive criticism and would do best to work with it.

    2. This is absolutely correct. Simply disliking a genre or element doesn’t disqualify you from critiquing it.
      God forbid we end up only ever critiquing the things that we enjoy and just ignore everything else. That’s just worthless.

    3. Sure, but Carthois doesn’t call the feminist police for people hating on his stories, whether here or on MGE Wiki.

      This SJW bullshit is idiotic and annoying, and doesn’t let the world improve, but SJWs/femtards also comment and troll on sites which disagree with them by simply labelling them and using ad hominems without any proof or sources.

      I believe that’s the kind of faggotry Carthois is giving his middle finger to.

    4. Except there’s a difference between SJW’s parading topless in public and clicking on a story on a website that specializes in smut with multiple warnings that the story may contain something you find objectionable…

      1. Would you like to elaborate on that position?

        In substance, his position, that saying “Don’t judge simply because you don’t like it,” is ridiculous, is the point, rather than the context of either of those examples being equivalent.

        The fact that the story may or may not contain content that one may find objectionable, does not exist as the alpha and omega of understanding, and judging, the quality of said story.
        I hate Pre-Raphaelites, but I’m still more than capable of understanding which are good and which are bad.

        A couple of lines about a fetish that’s low on my list of preferences, does not disqualify me from understanding and writing about the story that contains those lines.

      2. Well put, Breakaway.

        Russian warriors are actual warriors, for example. They actually take action and show they can perform in the army.

        Running around with floppy/saggy tits out proves only one thing.

  3. I’ll probably just do this as a running commentary as I read this. It’s easier for me.

    So she’s still covered in piss, but now he’s clothing her? Were her clothes even around?

    The best elements in this and it’s predecessor, are the small, real nods to working in that kind of store. Those bright spots of humorous real life observation are pretty good.

    He just fucked around for twenty minutes, cluelessly?

    >”Soz for raping you. My bad. LOL”
    Ok. So they’re both brain dead zombies, I get it now.
    Srsly. She’s outright thanking him for raping her? And now she’s this obnoxious cutesy blob who won’t shut up after being a vegetable? It’s a huge about face.
    This is just kind of insane. It’s the “I have so many questions…” Thing again.
    How did she end up in the toilet?
    If she needs to get fucked to move, how is she a virgin?
    How is she okay with any element of her life over the past couple of hours?
    She’s just brushing off being made in to a sex toy like it ain’t no thang.

    How can a zombie blush?
    She dead.

    So this cunt raped her, pissed on her, and is now lecturing her on protecting her purity? Ergh. WHATADICK.
    >Like a happy little doggie.
    So, he rapes her, pisses on her, tells her she’d regret throwing away her virginity, and now he just thinks she’s a dog?
    This guy’s the fucking worst.

    This is just… Wot…
    So she ends up tied up in a toilet, and now she’s spouting porn clichés and demanding a relationship with the first person to rape her?

    >”managed to word out” wot?
    You keep mixing up Isle for aisle too.
    Why wouldn’t he just take her out the fucking back via the staff exit or the loading bay?

    Urgh. Uuuuurgh. This waifu deredere bullshit is going to make me puke. It’s like she has no personality but “market tested for maximum moe cock receptacle”. It’s like they replaced her brain with distilled porn mags, and it’s painful. The cutesy affectations are just irritating too.

    >getting raped in a bathroom wasn’t a good idea

    If she needed cum to move, how did she do it herself?
    Why that store? Why that bathroom?

    Urgh. It’s like I’m reading the “Carthois’ perfectedest waifu eva” highlight reel.

    Jesus Christ, I’m not even halfway done here. I’m losing the will to go on.
    Just in general.
    Like, I’m questioning my life choices right now.
    “what has lead me to critiquing this? Why am I doing this? Sure it’s somewhat fun critiquing low culture porn, but… Is this my life? Is this what I’m wasting minutes of my life on?”
    I’m in a full existential tail spin right now.

    Ok. I’m good. I’m good. Let’s keep trying.

    >Kinda asking for it.
    On what planet?
    He didn’t know she was tied up by her own will at that point. He just fucking raped an immobilised girl and is now worming his way out of the responsibility. This guy’s awful.

    I guess it’s good this girl’s a zombie, because she doesn’t act like an actual human being at all.

    >Bubbling her hips.
    U wot?

    She should see a gynaecologist if she’s sweet down there.
    Like… Manuka honey? There’s this deluxe choccy shop that sells boxwood honey comb covered in dark chocolate. So good. Man, I love honey. It’s sah good. Bees too. Bumble bees are adorable. I’d have no problem with bees landing on me. It’s actually a bit sad, because foreign bees are edging out the species local to me, and the local ones are all stingless chill bees.
    In short: I like bees, and they make me happy, and thinking about bees has given me the hope that I can keep going.

    >shivering out her teeth
    Like… I guess that works, but it’s almoest too poetic for the style you’ve otherwise used.

    …Why would a zombie piss?
    She dead.

    Urgh. This conversational style that you slip in to is just kind of embarrassing. “I shit you not!” It’s like reading breathless gonzo journalism from a teenaged boy who just got a couple knuckles deep in gash. Urgh.

    >walls of her clit.
    Umm. Well. Err.

    The sex was sex I guess? It wasn’t that erotic or anything… Kinda just there. And then not there. Shrugging so hard~

    >Now we’re randomly going in to deep back story.
    Haha, she got it. “If you want to be hit by the train, you walk up the tracks, not across”. That was the advice re: cutting your wrists that went around my school.
    Somewhat ironically the suicides were by train rather than by cutting their wrists haha.

    How long has she been undead for her to not be at least a little bit more ok with her death?
    If she topped herself, why is she even a zombie?

    Urgh. It’s like… I don’t know. This girl. One second she’s a pathetic whimpering mess that you have to save and protect, and then the next second she wants the D.

    >Cheers for topping yourself so you could become a zombie that I could rape and then get a perfect waifu out of it.
    >Oh, stop, you’re too romantic!

    I don’t know man. I just don’t know anymore.
    Why would she want to be lovers and move in with the guy who raped her the very day they met? Why are they instant lovey dovey lovers after only just meeting one another under rapey circumstances hours before?

    …I just…

    1. Gonna go through this as brief as I can.

      Last part of part one, the MC is drying her down.

      Clothes were on the toilet behind her, on the tank.

      Yes, he did nothing for twenty minutes.

      That was another humorous part in which the MC was hinted at being some what scared, I.e. His stupidity l.

      Most of her willingness and outright gall is from the fact that she is a zombie and is now very simpleminded.

      And now I’m laughing too hard to say anything else other than, ‘just the plot’

      1. The plot of this story is “Two lobotomised people, one a brain dead zombie with the personality of a masturbation device, and one an authorial masturbation device, through no sequence of events that makes sense or could be imagined being performed by anyone with their higher functions intact, end up living together after meeting, at most, 2 hours earlier”? Do you really want to say that that is the plot of your story?
        Because whilst that is the plot, its not something you’d want to admit to.

    2. These are valid points in the real world.

      You’re quite correct, but the snag is that you’re using extra-sensitive logic in a fantasy world and setting which is all fiction.

      Even the real world isn’t completely free from illogical behaviour, of course. There are plenty of reports of sexual activity (and other such things) which would’ve been termed rape, murder, blackmail, coercion, and the Demon Lord knows what else.

      1. That’s an incredibly tenuous ledge that you’re inching across there.

        I don’t feel my points were extra-sensitive, if there were errors in the character’s decision making, and by extent, possible errors by the author, then the errors are errors, regardless of sensitivity. I don’t feel that I was being pedantic, I could go over it again with a fine toothed comb; if it seems that I found a lot to complain about, you should consider that there was a lot to complain about.

        So when you write a piece of magical realism, you throw out the entirety of human thought and relations?
        That simply saying, “oh, but she’s a zombie and it’s all made up!” is proof enough from criticism of the plot?
        It doesn’t work like that bud.

        Is my main response.
        What does people doing awful things have to do with the fact that the story is tied, narratively, together by a shoelace and a prayer?
        Are you suggesting Carthois wrote this entirely under the influence of a sudden attack of illogical behaviour?
        Just because people do awful things, doesn’t mean a story about those people has to be awful.
        You really have no tenable position to defend here.

        1. Correction: You have a lot to complain about. And I don’t mean just on this story.

          IDK if Carthois was high, nor do I care. Stories and magic are exactly that: not real. If the story was written with murder and gore, without any retribution, people find it hard to digest. If it happened in real life, as long as there is vengeance by the law or the victim, people are happy.

          Who/What am I defending? Carthois’s right to write however he likes. Not my position on his story. I realise that no one’s really gonna care, because this isn’t about me.

          And Carthois, no need to feel this is getting personal. I replied after a couple of days because I had nothing to do. 😛 I’m puzzled that Eyepop doesn’t seem to like most material or people here, that’s all. I’ve had enough of other debates like this on FB/Google+/etc. and I’m sure all of you have as well, so even if we both sound pissed, we’ll be learning some new POVs anyway.

          1. Fair criticism is fair criticism. That’s it. Why shouldn’t I pick out things that are worth criticising? No one’s above fair criticism, even I, however, “aw you just like complaining” isn’t really all that useful.

            So fiction is fiction? Thanks for clearing that up for me mate.

            Of course Carthois has the right to write however he pleases, who said else-wise? However, I have as much a right to criticise his writing, as he does to write.

            Why are you commenting on whom I do and do not like? I can criticise work I like as harshly and thoroughly as work I dislike. Work by people whom I do and do not like.
            It’s not like I need to say it, but I’m very fond of some of the members of this site.

            I’m not a child, and I don’t need a lecture on let and let live. If Carthois can’t hack fair criticism, then he has no right to expect praise either.
            I needn’t learn anything about other people’s POVs, nor do I need the inference that I do need to do so.

            If you had a fair point and a worthwhile argument, then I would reconsider my position. You have neither, so I needn’t do anything of the sort. Maybe you should learn more about other people’s POVs perhaps?

          2. I figured yours out. Your POV is still highly critical. Thanks for the confirmation.

            I’m not saying you dislike any of the members, but your ‘fair points’ which you feel I have none of include a little too much of nitpicking and perhaps ripping others to shreds. My only criticism of what you said above is that the stories are not written in an offensive way which would prompt such a strong reaction from anyone. Do you believe you’re above hearing that from me? I’m free to point out what others do as much as yourself.

            I’m commenting on what you said, not your preferences. If you can take the same sort of critiques, fair enough. However, it generally isn’t justified to rant away at a plot you don’t like if it doesn’t leave gaping holes in a reader’s understanding.

          3. So what if it’s highly critical? You’re just stating something, specifically, that I’m willing to go to the effort to thoroughly criticise something. If you think I give unfair criticism, then say so, if you think I shouldn’t criticise things, then say so.

            You outright say that it doesn’t seem that I like many stories or people here. By name, you call me out, and say that I have an antagonistic relationship with some of the writing and users of this website. Regardless of whether that’s true or not, and I am well aware of how awful my personality is, you said it.
            I apologise deeply if one has to actually befriend me, for me to show warmth and affection, I apologise from the very depths of my soul in fact.
            Isn’t the inference from the fact that the writing has nits to pick, and can be shredded, that nitpicking and shredding isn’t out of line?
            Everyone makes mistakes, and if no one points them out, how is anyone to rectify them? People have even asked me to critique their work for them.
            Criticism only leads to higher quality work.

            At any rate, I’ve definitely been to acerbic in some of my commentaries, I’ll acknowledge that as fact, but by the same stroke, the tone used doesn’t invalidate the content. I may not be nice, but I don’t say things that I do not believe are true, and if they are shown to be false, I’ll redact them. It’s as easy as that.

            Regardless, you can’t call respect for Carthois’ freedom of speech and curb mine with the same gesture.

            Once again, if I have said anything wrong, I’ll correct it, if we’re going to debate about the tone, then I’ll just accept that I’m not a particularly nice nor likeable person, if you want to censur me for that, feel free, but it won’t change much.
            If admin has a problem with what I say, admin is very capable of telling me himself, and has done so in the past. If you have a problem with the way I critique things, then bring it up with him.

            In all honesty, if we’re speaking about the commentary I wrote on this story, then you really can’t call it strong. Like, at all.
            At the end of the day, the critiques that I write are as much about my own amusement, as they are about highlighting things I found problematic, or things that I really enjoyed. That said, it should come as no surprise that I’m a bit sadistic in nature, however, if I cross a serious line and upset someone, then I’ll apologise.

            Of course I’m not above it? I even stated that I was receptive to constructive criticism? Isn’t this entire conversation proof of that? If none of your arguments have persuaded me that I’m at fault, then that’s hardly my problem.
            You say I criticise things too much, then criticise me for not being willing to be criticised, and then follow up by saying you have the right to critise me. What should I take away from this? That only I should face scrutiny? That’s obviously ridiculous, so let’s say it’s a matter of degree. Do you think I’m in capable of telling where an acceptable line is? I’m aware of it, if I pass it, admin tells me, and I step back, then I keep giving critiques, and people keep writing. It almost sounds like a perfectly healthy system!
            If you want to discuss what should be a healthy degree of scrutiny, then feel free to suggest some limit or degree that makes sense and still leave healthy room for debate and criticism. This is the only worthwhile thing about my behaviour that you’ve said, and it’s something that has already been considered. Feel free to improve on all that if you want.

            I’m more than capable of taking criticism, and as you can see, I’m more than capable of defending my position. I’m not going to roll over and die just because you think I could coddle the children a bit more.

            I pointed out repeated formal failures, the plot just wasn’t very good, the characters just weren’t very good, some of the prose was good, some of it was awful, the erotica was hohum, the fetish was kind of shoehorned in. B for effort and an overall D- for execution.

            I didn’t like this story because it wasn’t very good.
            Becauas this story wasn’t very good, I gave it a harsh but comedic commentary.
            As a result, I feel that I wasn’t unjustified in harshly criticising it.

            Maybe the next thing Carthois writes will be better, maybe it’ll be worse, regardless if I feel it’s justiable I’ll write about what I liked and what I disliked about a story. The only person who seems to have a problem with this, is you.

            Finally, I’ll repeat that if you have any issues, feel free to forward them on to Admin.
            Whom, just for the record, I quite like, have gotten along well with for years, and would happily invite home to fuck my sister.

  4. Okay, gents enough is enough. I originally wrote this on a whim from a fellow friend’s idea, who by the way was not interested in watersports that was just make take on it.

    Illogical or not, I wrote the thing because I wanted it to be funny, quirky, and that oddball story people couldn’t help but laugh at.

    I admit that yes, the story could have been more comprehensive, however it is what it is and it is done. So, if you like the story, thank you. If you had good constructive criticism, Eyepop as an example, thank you for your input. If you are disgusted and don’t like the story, tough tiddly.

    1. I am just watching this comment section and I am fairly amused at how much attention this has gotten. It catapulted this to number one commented on article probably for months to come. Two thumbs up for the entertainment.

        1. Okay guys, the debating has pretty much gone away from the actual story to that of POV and writing rights. So again, I am going to say this and then we all stop.

          Eyepop, I recognize your critiques as constructive, albeit blunt, and I thank you for them.

          I also thank Spartan for defending my work and being forth right in his opinion.

          For others who do not enjoy this and read it, you have no right to complain because I warned you THREE times. If they would feel that make work is trash because they read it and thought little of it, I need not say where I think they should stick their opinion up.

          And lastly, I emphasize that I wrote this all down at 5 in the morning and on a whim from a comment a friend of mine made. Watersports was my own fetish in this story and for a change I wanted to be more brief, blunt, and modernly authentic instead of straight descriptive narrative. If you didn’t like it, sorry my bad.

          So, now this is all said and done, let’s move on and leave the comments alone. Demon Lord knows I don’t want my story to be only we’ll know as the one with the most comments on it.

          Much rather it be known for the only one with watersports.

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