The first volume of the Wired Hard series was published in 1994–literally a lifetime ago for some of the people reading this now. If you’re interested in the context in which editor Cecilia Tan decided to publish an anthology of gritty gay male SF (and how those factors are relevant today), you can read her introduction to the bundle. And if you’re just here for for the smut, stick around!
Here’s an excerpt from “Jungle of Vampire Lust” by Lee Liges:
Blackness smothers, engulfing me, my senses gasp. Burning, scalds my veins, flowing to pricks of painful pleasure. Muscles tense, draw tight. Searching.
Strung like a bow, I display my blood-rushing erection, towering above. Searing heat and pressure grip vice-like on my hard spear of flesh. Mute screams tear from my throat at the unbearable tension produced in my body. Rhythmic pressure, pleasure turns to pounding waves of ecstasy. Bellows of rapture from my paralyzed vocal chords.
The black shroud envelopes me, again.
* * * *
Sunrise, glows eerie pink on the white canvas of my tent. I dose my eyes to the beauty and take inventory. Musky sex inflames the air, the lethargic afterglow lingers. Pain again, accompanied by a sharp burning.
I struggle from my sleeping bag, moaning from the pain in my balls. The discomfort is proven by the drop of dried blood on the raw skin of my nipple. My skin is clammy with the sticky sweat of after-sex.
I survey my small tent, already knowing what 1 won’t see, and for the third morning in a row, I don’t. I hear the murmurs, smell the bitter scent of brewing coffee. I pull on my shorts, slip into a shirt to hide the small wound.
I study the other six men as I sip the scalding brew. Nothing more today than yesterday, or, the day before.
I am being methodically raped.
No…. He doesn’t penetrate me. That, my calculatingly precise mind could understand. His heat surrounds me, driving me to intense orgasms, that literally drain me. My testicles are wrung of every life force they produce, and the gnawing anguish left behind is constant.
Seven men, deep in the jungle, collecting specimens to cure: world hunger, cancer, AIDS, poverty? At thirty, I am the youngest. The others, my mentors, my peers.
My day is spent in the sweltering jungle. We don’t work together, each of us has our own priorities. One of them must be my phantom-rapist, lover? Men are not my lovers. My scientific work has been my love, my marriage. I do not love men. I do not make love to men. I do not fuck them,. They do not fuck me.
My cock is engorged and mean in the humid atmosphere of my briefs. Antiseptic eats into the unusual puncture. I work in the arousal I’ve had since morning. I suppress the urgency to sink into the moist, delicious heat again. I’ve never been so ready. The sexual ecstasy achieved last night still pumps, sensitizing every inch of my skin.
Born with a calculator and a test tube, I was a virgin until two years ago. It was a scientific process: Labia minor, urethral opening, hood, labia major, vagina, clitoris. Penis, glans, scrotum. Ejaculation into a latex condom. Pleasurable, but never to be repeated.
Until three nights ago, in a steamy, wild jungle.
* * * *
Night again: the fourth. Muffled, torrid sex, that will consume me, again? Quickly, I eat, bathe and slip into the cocoon of white canvas lust.
I wait for my phantom lover tonight, determined to end his control. No more blackout velvet or passion fighting to be heard in howling silence as he consumes me. I want it aU now. I’ve learned, been the perfect student. He gives, and takes like a predator, a vampire.
Naked, I elm spread-eagled on my sleeping bag. Offering myself. My erection stands expectantly. I imagine the searing glow from the heat of my blood, engorging it, swelling.
The ache between my legs is from anticipation, now; the turbulence from producing my heirs, pledged to my phantom vampire. The vampire that sucks the life seed from my body, but not my essence.
I listen intently. A hiss of a tent zipper, quiet footsteps bringing my lover?
Arousal pounds harder. My hips start an age-old rhythm. My balls bloat. My tube of deliverance pulses, painfully stretching the skin. I chant as a sexual heathen, willing my lover to give me the release I crave.
I gasp at the pressure. His full weight settles on me as I arch, pleading. Sightless, I sense him closer to my shivering flesh. Please… Now…
No. Oh, no. Quelling blackness pulls me under. Piercing roughly. Please…
* * * *
Morning: I gulp the boiling bitter. I study: again. Withered dry: again. Crusty blood, punctured nipple: again.
I muse, six men, twelve nipples. Are any of the others in ready-to-fuck condition? All those teeth, is there one vampire star fang among them? On the edge of sexual control, I’m also on the edge of insanity. Mad scientist, jungle fever?
We vote to stay longer in this lusty jungle. We need more time, more specimens, more samples. Our slides aren’t full, test tubes aren’t overflowing. Another week. Enough supplies? Yes.
I sneak back to camp that day. Suffering, I am desperate. My control is gone. The tent glows as the sun filters through the dense jungle foliage. The atmosphere is sex-hot and damp. Rivulets of sweat from my nakedness.
Caressing slick skin, I prepare for my lover. He’ll know I’m waiting, ready and wanting. I’ll tell him that I don’t care who he is, he can have me whenever he wants. I’ll always be ready for him. I’ll tell him that I need his body, as I need oxygen to survive. I’ll tell him anything.
My virgin orifice twitches with the need of something it has never experienced. Reality. I want my lover buried deep inside me. I want him as he seizes, night after night.
I tremble with lust, excited as a schoolboy. I don’t want him to steal anymore, I want to freely give. Survival. I’ll provide. My scientific mind quickly works, calculating, formulating how much seed I can produce. How often I can nourish him.
I roll on my stomach and open wide, waiting. My ass thrusts high as uncontrollable humping begins, yet again. My groan of pleasure is muffled as my cock caresses the soft flannel of the sleeping bag.
I implore him to absorb me, while my body gains momentum. The need for release is clamoring with twisting compulsion. Forgive.
My scream deafens. I am paralyzed in excruciating pain. Smothering sweet stillness releases and relieves my anguished pain.
* * * *
I rise in the early pink dawn only to double over in pain. Incrustation covers both nipples, this time. Electric jolts from ball piercing, this time. Dried crimson surrounds the injury, mixed with the white spill of my seed matting the hair. The life sucked directly from my bruised testicles, this time.
Smearing myself with antiseptic, I stay in my tent for the day. I converse with my vampire lover. I talk and explain, beg and plead.
I beg that he hears, I plead for the passion he once gave me. I promise every drop, willingly, only for him. Please… no pain. I fall asleep knowing this jungle of lust has made me a crazy man.
* * * *
The fire has burned to a glowing, orange embers and the others are sleeping when I finally emerge. I sit in the fire shadows and listen to the jungle night sounds. Revelling in reality. Fear keeps me from sleep in the corruption of night. Fear in the innocence of day.
The rasp of a tent zipper, footsteps lightly crunch, the rasp repeats, the faint glow of a flashlight in the white tent. Low murmurs of deep masculine voices, the voices quiet, then two shadows merge into one. Jungle scientist lust.
Mesmerized, I creep closer to the night lovers. I am in the shadow of the night, they back in gold luminescence of the flashlight, framed by the open flap of the tent.
I swallow a hysterical laugh, thinking that I’m not only demented, but a voyeur as well. Jungle voyeur possessed.
They caress, slowly, sensuously. Lips muffling sighs of passion. Sweat-slick skin shimmers, inspiring in the yellow light. Shadows dance and play on voluptuous muscles.
Tensile swords of flesh duel between bodies. Big hands knead firm bodies, gently stimulating. Limbs intertwine, two join as one, with gasps of passion. Strength contracts, rippling under satiny skin. The lusty dance whirls as they frantically satisfy. Together, gratify.
The lovers are intimately knowledged. Both participate, and their lovemaking is like an erotic dance that gyrates faster, faster. I yearn for that with my own lover. I have never seen men love, and am humbled by the beauty.
* * * *
I lay in my tent begging again. I offer him everything, anything he wants for the pleasure just witnessed.
I fight the imprisoning curtain. His weight lays heavy. My legs are leaden when I move to embrace him, open myself. Tears stream, running rivulets of loving want.
Delicious heat agitates my virgin territory, and I taste the first flicker of paradise. His feast starts, paradise visible: blackness.
Pressure surrounds, then a vehement milking of my agony. His body is a blaze that should blister. The fierce grip should be painful. He causes no pain. I ask him to take me, to bury deep, as lam in him.
I was dealing with a demoniacal phantom. Intimate with the pain he could inflict as well as the pleasure. Too late, he now possesses me physically and spiritually.
Scientifically, I knew I was demented. Phantoms, vampires, apparitions and possessions had no place in a mind filled with facts.
He needs me to survive. To have a life that only I could provide. As sure as a man could procreate, I could also supply him with enough sustenance to go on living. Strength came with understanding. He didn’t need my blood to survive; he required my life-giving semen.
* * * *
First day back in my lab. Comfortable now, textbook facts take over. Ever-present drop of blood smears on the slide. Verified. A natural substance used for hundreds of years to incapacitate. Organic in nature. No harmful side effects.
I laugh. A constant teen-age cock strains my briefs, my nipple lubed with antiseptic, bandaged. Gnawing torment from his frequent ingestion of their accumulation, but still aching with their need to discharge. I am in a continuous state of inexhaustible desire. A fool’s fantasy. No harmful side effects. I laugh.
* * * *
The needle filled with hundred-year-old antidote is readied for injection, waiting on my bedside table. Mad scientist fights phantom vampire. Will he find me? Has he followed me from the lush jungle to the comfortable haven of my bed? I find strength on my own territory.
My thoughts arouse me even more. My shaft stands, strains, and waits to be consumed. My balls, turbulent, seem to prepare. My whole body attuned to the wants and needs of my lover. Searing heat races through my veins, pooling in my groin like thick lava.
He has allowed me to experience more each time. Intense pleasure now overshadows the pain. Only my testicles grip numbingly after the spill. I don’t touch, not wanting to waste.
My body reacts, alerting me to him. The atmosphere turns jungle steamy in the cool, air-conditioned room. The musky scent of sex fills my nostrils as my lover nears. Silk mosquito netting floats resplendently around my bed. His presence is overwhelming and I am mute, limbs heavy. Too late. Too late for the antidote.
I’m propositioning. Distended, it quivers, glowing like forged steel. I feel disconnected; an observer. Superior, they tremble and expand to bursting, emitting fiery white light. Neon bright spheres between my thighs. An inexplicable masculine phantasm.
The blackness blinds, but doesn’t suffocate. My lover bears down, burying me in bed.
The searing heat of my shaft is enclosed with his granite length. Cold, so cold against my overheated skin. I want him, he is capable. Guttural sounds escape parched lips in child-like whimpering.
My heat warms him, transferring my sexual craving. Fierce pressure, two as one. He is eager, needing it to make him whole. I appeal.
My balls draw deep into my overheated body. My hips are free of his constraints and I thrust, soundlessly indicating. He incapacitates me again, the crushing darkness stuns me.
* * * *
I dress in abrasive lab white, the pressure from my pants excruciating. The full vial of antidote mocks me as I prepare for another tormenting day.
The lovers wait in my lab that morning, and the memory of their sensuous lovemaking in the jungle creates pornographic images. I see beautiful bodies, now hidden. The groans of sexual arousal, the shouts of ecstasy pound through me.
Questions. Brain celIs work, answering in expected responses. Questions. My face flushes with lust; out of my control. My mind whirls in erotic scenes. My cock strains; out of my control.
I see their response and willingness. Their naked bodies surround mine, rubbing in the sexual foreplay of mortals.
Bright lights of the sterile lab, the atmosphere is chilly white. Tart, chemical smell assails my nostrils. He holds me reverently. But, the rhythmic need is not there, the luminescent glow does not appear.
His mouth covers and I fill him with unneeded nourishment. No pleasure, no excitement, no intense relief of climax. I stuff myself into my pants, as hard and hurting as I was at the beginning of this charade.
* * * *
Night again. I now know that I am his forever, will never be satisfied with another. I am willing to escape into a spiritual entity.
A red-hot blade of flesh protrudes from my body, seeming to know that he’ll come again. My body knows him better than I. Are we two different beings? Has he taken my man flesh over as his own? The vial waits, laughing, it knows. Jungle lust has the rutting scientist by the balls.
* * * *
My screams echo through the room as I double over. He knows. My stomach churns with the nausea only that kind of pain can produce. There is no numbing, nothing to dull the agony. My phantom vampire is emasculating me. Defenses take over and block the pain as I lose consciousness.
* * * *
I awake disoriented, suffering with every movement of my pain wracked mind. Afraid to remember, I cower on my bed. I shudder as I recall the unleashed fury and my last thought before blacking out. Emasculation, the dreaded word of any man walking the face of this earth. Worldly spirit that I am.
* * * *
No work: extended leave of absence. The crazed scientist does not trust himself with reality.
I sleep perpetually, only then escaping my self-made confinement. My dreams are erotic nightmares to an impotent plebeian like me: Colorful, bright scenes of sexual perversions intense lovemaking, beautiful bodies, rigid spears of masculine flesh. They are full of things I’ve never done, never realized could be done.
After these erotic-hell dreams, I wake to find my limp flesh nestled into my withering balls. He left my physical parts intact, to grin impotently. My nipple heals, leaving a star-shaped pucker of shiny new skin. The phantom being, the vaporous figment, fucked over the brilliant scientist, the cold clinician.
I laugh hysterically, like a deranged man possessed. The laughing maniac finally drifts into the erotic limbo of sleep.
* * * *
Do you want me? A haunted voice.
Yes. Oh, yes. NOW.
Pain, or pleasure?…
The five-volume, 44-story bundle will only be available for this sale price for a couple more weeks. Grab it before it’s gone!