Exquisite Corpse Book Novels & Stories

I grabbed my purse and headed out the door, turning back for my book on the kitchen counter; reading books will forever be my first love. At The Tasty Place Diner I found what might be my new inspiration. He was tall, almost roughed, not too soft. I don’t know what to make of what happened. “Mr. Blackwood,” he had signed my book; who was he? He was light skinned. I usually like men a shade closer to purple. His chest was broad, too broad. Usually my men are slimmer. He had lazy eyes that looked intense just when he needed them to be. Bedroom McDreamy eyes... And he smiled like a humming bird, glorious and slick.

It didn’t feel like mine to touch. And then—just as I was about to turn away—a spine caught the edge of my gaze. Not with color or glimmer, but with its silence. It was tucked almost too neatly between two broader tomes, their gilded edges crowding it as if to hide its presence. The binding was dark, a shade between bruised purple and coal, cracked with age, and unadorned save for a single phrase impressed in thin silver serif: “The Quiet Cull: A Forgotten History of Hybrid Extinction.”

The ladies all giggle and Julie stands, handing a new bookmark to each of us. "Yes. We figured we'd get you ones that suited you a little better." she says. The new one is dark blue with gold lettering that says 'Real men read dirty books'. I smile and look over at Ev who's showing Harper his excitedly. "These are great. Thank you." I say just as Bri nudges me. "Oh! Tell them your joke, love!" Harper says excitedly. Ev rolls his eyes before addressing the group.

“I’m here for you, Vera. Believe it or not.” Her lips parted, her breath hitching, but she stepped back, her necklace pulsing. “Show me, then,” she said, voice firm, though her eyes lingered on mine, sparking heat. “No games.” I nodded, pulling a leather-bound tome from the shelf, dust puffing into the air. My fingers brushed hers as I handed it over, the touch sending a jolt through me. Her eyes widened, but she snatched the book, flipping it open. “Moonstone records,” I said, leaning over her shoulder, my voice low, intimate. “They talk about corruption. Alphas who weren’t attuned to a moonstone lose control, and go mad.”

Nyla’s POV I'm drawing a pentagram on my apartment floor with sidewalk chalk at midnight on a Tuesday because apparently this is what my life has come to. There’s a leather-bound book open beside me, old, as if it survived the Victorian era. I found it at an estate sale last weekend, buried under a box of porcelain cats, which feels like the universe burying a loaded gun inside a Build-A-Bear. It was quite an… interetsing book. The chapter I keep returning to shows a naked woman arched on her back on the floor, with a demon-man like being, with extra limbs, and an abnormally huge-sized cock burried inside her pussy.

Unfortunately, the book wasn’t organised into alphabetical order, so I had to search a number of pages before I found what I was looking for: Mouse King. The drawing did not look like the small chap we had encountered. This version of the Mouse King was ripped. Huge muscles, enormous teeth, a body almost as wide as it was tall. What the fuck? Grayson had seen what we brought in and identified it as the Mouse King. Had he made a mistake? I kept reading. The author of the book was clearly very enthusiastic about the creatures he wrote about. Everything was described in excruciating depth. Why use one adjective when you can use six? It made for a very slow, boring read as I tried to find an exp

Life has a very twisted sense of humor. Barely twenty-four hours ago, I was submitting my resignation letter because I had feelings for my boss and I thought that was so wrong. And now, I was on my knees, stroking two dicks… which somehow belonged to my boss and his brother. Ha ha… very funny, ain't it? “Show us what you've got, Wellsy.” Lucas cooed, his hand running through my hair. Wellsy… I never expected that hearing that name from another man would unravel me as much as it did.

She came hard, trembling against the bookshelves, her moans swallowed by my lips while I kept fingering her through every wave, drawing it out until she was a shaky, dripping mess. I pulled my fingers out slowly, brought them to my lips, and licked them clean while she watched with wide, dazed eyes. “See?” I whispered, smiling. “I told you I’d handle it.”

It was a space designed purely for quiet study, and reverence. “These two shelves here are all about the mate bond,” Thefros said, gesturing toward a pair of bookcases halfway down the room. “Lore, case studies, theory. Everything we’ve managed to preserve.” I nodded, pulling down five books at random and settling at the table under the nearest lamp. Thefros took a seat opposite, already flipping through his own selection with practiced ease. The pages felt heavy in my hands, textured like something handmade. These books hadn’t touched a printer, some were written in fading ink, others illuminated with strange symbols or brutal sketches. One book was nothing but badly rhymed poetry pretendin

What she saw now was a grotesque knit-work of meats, impassioned and ungodly. It made her sick. As Sarah crawled across the musty carpet, Michael entered behind her, hands still on his head. Like Jed, the first thing he noticed was the smell. As a child, he’d talked his mother into buying him two pet mice for his birthday. This room smelled like the cage his pets called home—musty newspapers and urine and captivity and blood. Because unknown to his poor mother, one of the mice was cannibal, and it ate the other in the middle of the night.