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    HSA-612: A VHS Tape
    HSA-612: A VHS Tape
    HSA-612: A VHS Tape
    Ebook23 pages20 minutes

    HSA-612: A VHS Tape

    By Quixerotic

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    About this ebook

    An HSA Artifact has gone missing, and Agent Markus Wilson is in charge of hunting it down once again. The trail leads to a small Iowas town in search of a cursed VHS tape with a penchant for turning viewers into sexual deviants. Will Agent Wilson find his quarry in time? Or will a movie night turn into bimbo driven debauchery?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherQuixerotic
    Release dateSep 28, 2021
    ISBN9781005332150
    HSA-612: A VHS Tape
    Author

    Quixerotic

    I have always enjoyed a particular type of erotica, stories where lust and carnal desire overwhelm reason, driving away the trappings of the real world as ecstatic fantasy takes over. My writing strives to tell such stories in rich worlds of dark fantasy, far flung science fiction, or apocalyptic inevitability, finding the kinky fun under every rock or at the end of every winding corridor.

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      Book preview

      HSA-612 - Quixerotic

      HSA-612: A VHS Tape

      Quixerotic

      Copyright 2021 by Quixerotic Publishing

      Smashwords Edition

      HSA-612: A VHS Tape

      by Quixerotic

      Declassified:

      Yasmin vaguely came back to herself as the drool dripped off her chin. In front of her, Michelle was getting worked over from both ends by the guys. Yasmin frowned as she pulled off her shirt. She looked down at her olive skinned A-cups and wondered if they’d grow big enough to win one of the studs. The voice in the television seemed to think so.

      Carly dropped the empty platter on the bar. In the corner, the shots she’d just delivered clunked against the table. She silently hoped the Gentry brothers wouldn’t get too carried away. It was only Tuesday, and she wasn’t in the mood to help Petey drag their drunk, fat asses to the side of the road to wait for one of their wives to get them.

      Otherwise, the bar was quiet. A late season baseball game played silently on the raised flatscreen in the corner. A low thrum of music kept the air from an otherwise oppressive stillness. Dave Matthews and other late nineties hits haunted Carly in her sleep. Six other habitual patrons dotted the room, most at the bar chatting with each other as they kept one eye on the baseball game. Petey, the owner, paced anxiously behind the bar, cleaning or sorting or organizing with no particular rhyme or reason. He would snap to attention whenever someone wanted another drink or another beer. His eyes flicked over to Carly and then his head jerked toward a table she hadn’t noticed.

      A young man in a suit sat

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