Salem Snack Witch Trials

By G.H. Reynolds

She began her life as Grace, a starving orphan girl trying to survive in colonial Salem, Massachusetts. On the night of October 31, 1691, she was chased out of town and into the arms of a dark stranger - a man who pledged to satisfy her hunger if she contracted with him.

She agreed, but the hunger never went away. It only grew stronger. Strong enough to grant Grace the power to transform people into delicious treats. Strong enough to make her devour each one of them, body and soul. Strong enough to turn the orphan into a buxom green-skinned sorceress.

For an entire year, Grace has managed to hide in plain sight by taking on the identity of one of her victims. But as Salem Town descends into madness in its pursuit of “The Snacking-Witch," she’ll discover some secrets are too big to hide—

Witness the unholy birth of The Snack Witch, the new face of erotic horror!

This 8,085-word supernatural erotic adventure contains explicit adult content, including self-pleasuring, intense transformations, seduction, magical violence, mild vore, and romantic deaths. It is not recommended for readers under age 18.

• Language: English
• Publisher: G.H. Reynolds
• Release date: Oct 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311826381

G.H. Reynolds

G.H. Reynolds no longer exists. I devoured her last Halloween. She of all people should have heeded my warning and not taken that dirty book with her to bed that night. But there she was, two fingers inside her, her naked body reduced to nothing more than a sticky mound of salt water taffy – pineapple flavored. She was delicious – though I left her apartment quite thirsty.I didn’t expect to wake up there the next morning, wearing her clothes, working her day job, and tending to her plump Chihuahua with the soft golden fur. It makes no difference. October 31st is always just a few days away, and with it, the certainty that I will be born again, more powerful – and hungry – than ever.In the meantime, I’ll keep writing about my naughty adventures. Turn her Amazon, Nook, and Smashwords accounts to my purpose. I thank you, reader, for supporting this starving artist, and the impostor lurking beneath her skin. Perhaps, if the night comes where you and I meet, I will take pity on you and give you a most pleasurable death.

Book preview

SALEM SNACK WITCH TRIALS

By G.H. Reynolds

Copyright 2015 G.H. Reynolds

Distributed By Smashwords

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The story you are reading is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-published in any medium, in whole or in part, for profit or not, without the author’s express written consent. This story contains explicit adult content. It is not intended for readers under 18 years of age. All characters involved in sexual activity are over 18 years of age.

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Chapter 1

October 31, 1691.

Her name was Grace. She was young. Young and scared, running barefoot through the woods outside colonial Salem, Massachusetts. Huddled in her tattered grey dress, the eighteen-year-old orphan clutched a half-eaten loaf of bread against her chest. She glanced back to see if he was still there. The bread slipped from her grip and tumbled into the darkness.

No! she whispered, her breath condensing in the cold autumn air.

She crouched down to try and find it again. Her hands slid through the crispy leaves, but found nothing. Suddenly, the light from the farmer’s lantern was upon her.

There you are! he said gruffly. The man grabbed her arm and yanked her up from the ground, pulling her back into a clearing. The man was old and haggard, his face riddled with deep, disapproving wrinkles. His breath reeked of pickled meat and cheap ale. Steal from me, will you? We’ll see what the governor has to say about this!

That won’t be necessary, said another man’s voice. Grace looked to the darkness, but no one was there. The farmer raised his lantern higher.

Who’s there? said the man as he grabbed her arm tighter.

There was a crunching of leaves, then into the light stepped a tall, handsome man in an expensive black suit. He looked young, but as he stood there, there was a mature air about him. Perhaps it was his hair, slicked back evenly against his head, or his smile of quiet confidence as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

My dear, you mustn’t worry me like that, he said to Grace. His voice was soft, seductive. She’d never met him before, but even in the farmer’s grasp, something about him made her feel safe and warm. The farmer’s lantern shook in his hand, making the shadows dance between the trees.

You know this girl? asked the farmer. The man turned to