The Neverending Story – Competitive Erotic Fan Fiction


DISCLAIMER:  If you know me well, you are well aware of my love of the movie The Neverending Story.  I also love the book, but came to that love much later in life. Bryan Cook runs a fantastic show called Competitive Erotic Fan Fiction where performers do live readings of either pre-selected fan fiction or from audience suggestions.  The audio is available via podcast here.  Mine was prepared in advance.  The following should not be read by those not of the adult mindset as it is “Erotic Fan Fiction.”  Please enjoy.

Bastian jerked awake and looked at the clock, 7:25 am.  He was exhausted.  Could it all have been a crazy dream?  Or did he just save Fantasia?
“Bastian!  Bastian!  Wake up!  You’re going to be late to school!” Bastian’s father yelled.  “I’m serious!  Remember what I said…you have to get your head out of the-“
“Clouds and my feet on the ground!  I know!  I know!  It’s the only thing you ever say to me since Mom died,” Bastian yelled back without thinking.
Little did his father know what happened in those clouds.  Bastian saw the most beautiful creature he ever laid eyes on – the Childlike Empress.  Her skin was so perfect and looked so smooth.  Maybe it was the blurry lens that seemed to always follow her around, but it didn’t matter.  He had never seen such soft, supple, perfect lips on a woman, let alone a young girl.
Bastian slunk out of his bed and he briefly stumbled onto something that threw off his step.  He looked down and saw that he had kicked gently across the floor a book.  Was it real?  It was the Neverending Story.  He hurried to his knees like a woman eager to please her lover.  Once on all fours he could see that the book was not closing flush, there was something that had penetrated the pages, leaving a tight gap, an inviting slit placed perfectly in the middle of its tan, worn, and leathery case.  As he gently slipped a finger, then two inside its dry pages, he felt a slight chill, something round and cold, the kind of cold that almost feels like it is wet like the dew on a leaf in the early morning of Fall.
He bit his lip, closed his eyes and then with the ease and steadiness of a master chef pulling out his cooked brisket from a tight oven’s hole, retrieved a necklace that held am emblem it its clutches…the Orin.  It was real.
“Don’t make me come up there, Bastian!” his father yelled.
He knew what he had to do.  He knew what he wanted more than anything and if the Empress was right, if the Orin granted unlimited wishes, then he was soon to become a man.  He could feel the crotch in his tighty-whities constrict like a wooden doorframe in winter as his father’s loud, heavy-hearted shoes began to slam their souls into the naked, defenseless staircase.  The choice was clear.
Night Hob was gnawing on a thick, wet, juicy stick when he heard a loud noise from the distance.  He moved his rough and dirty tongue slowly from side to side until the stick’s tip flopped onto his cracked and bleeding lower lip.  Meanwhile, Teeny Weeny, a plump man befitting of his name, straightened his top hat, zipped up his colorful slacks and stepped away from the large, slimy, perfectly and perpetually lubed traveling partner that was his racing snail.
The Rock Biter rolled to a sudden stop, as if he didn’t expect to come so fast upon the stunned faces that admired his largeness from below.
“I’ve never seen one so big!” exclaimed Night Hob.
Teeny Weeny stood, jaw agape, mesmerized by the Rock Biter’s massiveness.  His mind raced as to the possibilities of the hugeness and hardness of other parts of his body.
“I’m on a mission to the Ivory Tower as my land, the north is being swallowed, one load at a time by the Limpness,” the Rock Biter said.
“The same is happening in my land, as well.  It is as if the Limpness is slowly, sucking each inch of our lush, soft, perfectly curved land into its mouth,” said Night Hob.
“Then it’s happening everywhere!  What are we doing here waiting around when we should go see the Childlike Empress!” screamed Teeny Weeny.
There was a congregation of people gathered at the Ivory Tower and Cairon, a tall, black, silver-bearded man stood addressing the concerned crowd.
“The Limpness is destroying our perfectly curved hills, our hard, firm oaks, and wet, soft oceans.  But, there is one who can help us, a brave warrior with legendary stamina from the Purple Buffalo Hunters.  His name is Atreyu,” said Cairon.
The crowd parted down the middle, as if a stern lover decided the legs of their partner needed to grant access.  Atreyu, small, almost too pretty to be a boy, walked through their stares like a hand makes its way to its sensual destination.  Each step he took was like a finger creeping closer to its candy.
“I am Atreyu!” he declared.
“What?  You are a child!  And a boy with such perfect hair?  Impossible!” yelled Cairon.
“I am the best in hunting the purple buffalo.  And the best ate eating it, too!”  Declared Atreyu.
The crowd gasped.
Atreyu began to walk away when suddenly, the Childlike Empress emerged wearing a soft, silky, nightgown that left little to any human’s imagination.  Then a majestic bed rose from the ground and Atreyu’s eyes widened as the Empress smiled.
“It is time for you to hunt the buffalo, Atreyu,” the Empress suggested.
“But, here?  Now?  With all these people around?” Atreyu asked.
“Yes, for it is the only way to get a human child to come,” she explained.
Atreyu walked up the steps, slowly untied the leather strings around his perfectly tanned smock, and the crowd gathered closer so they could see and hear every movement.  Then, from above the crowd a loud roar bellowed.  It was Falcor, the luck dragon carrying Bastian on his back.
But, today he was a Fuck Dragon.
Falcor landed softly on the platform and Bastian dismounted him with eagerness and the nerves of boy facing the ceremony of his manhood swelling both inside and outside of himself.
“Take your clothes off, Bastian.  Watch as Atreyu hunts my buffalo and only then can your wish be fulfilled,” she instructs him.
Bastian swallows the tangy and salty lump of excitement in his throat and tells her yes.
Atreyu approached the bare, soft, perfect, naked Empress and focused his sights between her legs, on a bright light, shining like a diamond that had the sun emanating its life from within its prism case.  Atreyu began to hunt with his tongue and hunt vigorously he did.  The crowd no longer passively observed as they all disrobed and began to mesh their buffet of bodies and limbs together in a chorus of desire.  The Empress shivered with joy as Atreyu’s mouth sword made its way around her pleasure gem and then in sync with her body the Ivory Tower began to tremble.
Moans and groans echoed throughout the tower’s walls.
“I’m so close, Bastian!  I’m so close!” the Empress yelled.
Blood-curdling screams filled the air.  The G’mork, a beast that looks of nightmares arrived and split the crowd with its hellish growl.  The Rock Biter tried to intervene but couldn’t keep his limestone member hard because the Limpness had closed in and the presence of the G’mork rendered it soft.
“It looks like a good, strong, shlong, doesn’t it?” Resigned the Rock Biter.
“I am a servant of the Limpness.  Fantasia is the world of human’s sexual hopes and wet dreams.  Those without wet dreams are easier to control.  You’ll have the pleasure of being my last victim as I ram my darkness into you since I couldn’t find the only one who could stop the Limpness.  His name was Atreyu,” G’mork said.
“If we’re going to die, I’m go to die fucking!  I am Atreyu!  Come in me G’mork!” commanded Atreyu.
G’mork lunged towards Atreyu.  Atreyu’s hard and sharp staff, unsheathed from its leather case penetrated G’mork’s black hole with such intent that it killed him.  Atreyu slumped G’mork’s dead body off of him and wiped the remaining liquids of life, red and white both onto G’mork’s now cold, dead, fur.
“Bastian you must say my name!  You’ve already picked it out and you know you must be inside me and say my name!” the Empress is begged.
Bastian remembered his Dad’s words, “but I have to keep my feet on the ground!”
“Say my name, Bastian!” she yelled.
“Okay!  I’ll do it!” Bastian conceded.
Bastian stepped in between the Empress’ legs and felt her warmth envelope him in pure ecstasy.  He began to thrust and with each forward and back he felt the scales of the former boy shedding to the ground, revealing a new man.  He must fill her veins, her every organ with his juice, he thought.
The tower began to break away into pieces and float off into the Nothing.
“Say my name, Bastian!  You must come in me!  Come inside me now!” she begged.
As the begging words for him to come poured out of her perfectly shaped mouth, he began to pour all of his love, hopes, and seed explosively into her welcoming womb.  Almost as if he transcended to another plane of existence, the cork of his champagne bottle finally was launched.
“Moonchild!” Bastian exclaimed as all the years of frustrations that had built up inside of him now were filling her.  She moaned a heavenly sound as she felt his essence filling her every fiber that made him produce even more and as he unleashed his second batch inside her, he gazed into her perfect eyes and knew that he would never leave.  He would spend all of eternity in the clouds and inside of her.

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