Metaphorical Stories Novels & Stories

Change his state of mind from raw anger to utter amusement in a single question. “I fucking love those stories” “So it isn’t real” She sounded almost upset. “Well, not in the sense most books depicture it. It is an allegory. It alludes to the freedom of rebirth, of the possibility to go anywhere from that moment on” He sat on the bed, too excited to be explaining this to someone for the first time. No one ever had the interest to hear about it before, and it was basically the description of what he was, what he was made of.

Really, Alain didn’t understand what his best friend’s question meant. Realizing that the innocent man didn’t understand what she meant, Brielle turned her body to face Alain, then started to speak seriously, “That’s the classic way, Al. In line with: ‘You are similar to someone who always appears in my dreams,' or ‘Have we met before? Your face is familiar to me.’ I didn’t expect a famous painter like him to use that ancient method to flirt with you.” Alain blinked slowly as he tried to comprehend the series of explanations from his best friend.

Eyes that were not quite eyes followed every motion of her breath. > “All right,” Mira said, trying to sound like a patient teacher instead of someone mentoring a reality-bending toddler. “Lesson one: emotional regulation.” > I don’t understand the term. > “Obviously. Okay—humans feel things, but we don’t let those things turn the weather purple.” > Purple is pretty. > “It’s catastrophic.” > So is love. Mira sighed. “Oh, wonderful, you’ve discovered poetry again.” From behind her, Adrian cleared his throat. “Maybe try… smaller metaphors?”

"The stories here... they're hostile." From the shifting runes, figures began to emerge. They were not quite solid, woven from narrative and malice—a knight with a weeping wound that told a tale of betrayal, a lover whose touch promised eternal sorrow, a child whose laughter unraveled hope. They were Eaters of Meaning, drawn to the potent story of our paradox. They surged forward. Kairi met them with a wall of solidified logic, but their nature was to corrupt it. The wall began to weep, the story of its own failure written across its surface.

The Taboo Chronicles is a curated collection of dark, twisted, and unapologetically erotic stories designed to push the boundaries of conventional desire. From the sacred halls of a silent church to the high-stakes shadows of obsessive power plays, these stories explore the raw, unyielding side of human hunger. Whether it’s the thrill of a secret shared in the dark or the surrender of a soul to a dominant force, nothing is off-limits.

Author's Note This book is a short compilation of erotic stories. Please note that not all entries are heavily erotic—some lean more toward emotional moments, dramatic tension, or character interaction. Also, 99% of these stories don’t follow a traditional plot, so don’t be confused if there's no clear beginning, middle, or end. They’re written more for mood, moments, and expression than full narratives. Enjoy the ride,no overthinking needed. 😉 ********************************************* Kael didn’t wait.

She always makes sure that correcting my language is her top priority. "What? I like metaphors," I said. "We did have dinner, didn't we?" Cammie reminded me. "And you think going to that carnival is a dessert?" I asked, but Cammie just laughed. "Nice metaphor," she added with a sniff. "But we're still lying!" "It's not called lying, Vivienne," Alyssa came to declare. "It's called making up stories." "What a difference does it make, anyway?" I said. "Lying is bad, but making up story is useful," she replied in her surest voice. I had been taught that lying was universally wrong, but no one had ever taught me about making up stories.