Fuck Yourself Fridays (18+)
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mortalityplays.itch.io
Fuck Yourself Fridays (18+)
@mortalityplays.itch.io
560 followers 12 following 97 posts
Fuck Yourself Fridays: queer-friendly, body positive 18+ shorts published on the last Friday of every month!
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mortalityplays.itch.io
Screenshot from the Twilight Zone. A man in glasses sits beside a stack of books, with the caption 'There's time enough at last!'
November 2, 2025 at 4:07 PM
mortalityplays.itch.io
🌕 Lucky Little Lunatics: F/F/F/??? TF / hunt & catch

🧵 Bodysnatched: Halloween flavour monsterfucker fun!

🦇 Sangfroid: F/F/M vampire BDSM with an icy heart

🚗 Passing Place: F/M trans cruising with Twilight Zone twist

🌿 X-Breed: NB/???/??? alien plant erotica against a dense sci-fi backdrop
Covers for books included in the bundle, accompanied by testimonial quotes. Lucky Little Lunatics: "I didn't expect to be so be so charmed by the characters in a story this short", "Bewitching!" Bodysnatched: "You must meet the Bone Lord." Sangfroid: "Oh this awakened something in me.", "God Damn." Covers for books included in the bundle, accompanied by testimonial quotes. Passing Place: "first time an erotic story made me genuinely tear up at the ending", "occupies the same space in my brain as a story u read in a magazine one day that cracks your brain in two and then you can never find it again" X-Breed: "Came for the plantfucking but then got drawn in by the scifi setting. I'll def be rereading this one!"
October 22, 2025 at 10:27 PM
mortalityplays.itch.io
The bundle includes:

❄️ Don't Unwrap 'til Christmas (Queer seasonal romcom)
🚗 Passing Place (F/M trans cruising / objectum weirdness)
🌿X-Breed (nb/???/??? alien plantfucker sci-fi)

All 5k+ words with gorgeous cover art by @taylortitmouse.bsky.social

SALE ENDS SOON!
👉 itch.io/s/148065/fyf...
Review quotes for the three stories included in the bundle: Don't Unwrap 'til Christmas: "What is camp? It's this right here. 10/10 👌" "really unique and really hot" Passing Place: "first time an erotic story made me genuinely tear up at the ending" "occupies the same space in my brain as a story u read in a magazine one day that cracks your brain in two and then you can never find it again" X-Breed: "Came for the plantfucking but then got drawn in by the scifi setting. I'll def be rereading this one!"
May 31, 2025 at 6:39 PM
mortalityplays.itch.io
The reception to Passing Place over the weekend has knocked me out. It's easily the most vocally positive response I've had to any FYF story yet, which means a lot because it's also the most high concept offering so far. Thank you guys for loving my weird trans car porn. ❤️
itch.io comment by songbirdharrow reads: damn this was incredible. occupies the same space in my brain as a story u read in a magazine one day that cracks your brain in two and then you can never find it again. Really compelling voice and style. erotic story about a guy and his car did not have to go this hard and yet it rly did. the passing place. where the fairies exchange you. "you're stuck."
March 2, 2025 at 11:14 PM
mortalityplays.itch.io
5k+ words in EPUB and PDF format, with a cover by the engine-revving @taylortitmouse.bsky.social!

Content:

🚗 tF/M
🚗 First person POV
🚗 Objectum sexuality / mechanophilia
🚗 Fat characters
🚗 Cruising / public hookup
🚗 Car sex
COVER: A hand reaches out from the foreground to open a car door. Framed in the window is a heavily built woman's chest in a lacy camisole. She rests her hands on the car window. TEXT: Passing Place, 18+, R/L Monroe Text of preview pages follows. Note that the text does not line up perfectly with page divides due to space contraints. PREVIEW: Passing Place Written by R/L Monroe Cover by Taylor Titmouse What were we doing on the road to Cavell Bridge that night? I don’t remember. It's one long, smudged impression of a memory, and in the middle of it, a single incident sharp as glass. I was behind the wheel because I had to drive. I had to drive because I had to get out of there. Get out of where? Why? It doesn’t matter. That’s just how it was for us back then. There are things I do remember: motorway lights like LED angel halos sizzling in the fog; cat’s-eyes winking beneath the murky haze; skeletal trees in my periphery, flashing in time with machine-gun bursts of rain. Asphalt friction that shivered through Diana’s wheels, into metal and glass, rubber, flesh and bone, buzzing in my fingertips, tingling in my spine. I remember pressing my foot down, feeling the tug of velocity. The needle on her speedometer, breathless, floating, helpless. Her engine rumble rising to a hum, and then a needy, wanting whine. Sensation. Better than anything, I remember sensation. * The clutch is the clitoris. If that already makes sense to you, I don’t have much more to explain. I feel sorry for Americans, stuck with their Automatics. They’re porn-sick from car commercials that promise performance without thought or effort. They never get to touch the intimate place between body and machine where want becomes motion. Push down on the clutch until her rhythm changes. Growling effort becomes sweet, heedless momentum. Ease up slowly and find the sweet spot. Tickle and tease her. The slightest contact makes her shiver. Feel her strength kick beneath you. No need to explain the gear stick, right? Just wrap your hand around it. The smooth bulbous head fits right in your palm. Brush the grooves with your thumb, tickle the shaft with your fingertips. It’s designed to be tactile. Satisfying on a primal level. Let out the clutch so she glides. Open her up, coax her to relax. Then guide the gearshaft where it wants to go. A little resistance beneath your palm at first, but she’s eager. She wants it. She welcomes it. Lift off the pedal and make her feel it. Make her clench and shudder and moan. Diana was my car back then. I don’t like to say she was mine, but in a legal sense she was. She came to me third-hand, the most beautiful thing on the lot. Her finish was glossy black with a sweet silver trim that struck me as assertively feminine. Her sleek lines described a body that was big and broad and overbearingly powerful. Sitting inside her, I felt safe. Loved. I was smitten. I paid her dowry and took her home the same day. You won’t understand the story I’m about to tell unless you can wrap your head around this. I drove her as often as I could find an excuse, and of course I hated to let anyone else take the wheel. Not because I was jealous – she was just a car to anyone else – but because they would make an object of her. She didn’t care. Without me in the driver’s seat, thinking and feeling for the both of us, she really was just a machine. But it was dehumanising, to see her reduced to a senseless vehicle. My own sensitivity made anything but Diana unbearable. I couldn’t stand to ride along in other people’s cars, because I couldn’t help breathing life into them. Every jolt and bump of a clumsy driver’s indifference drove me mad. I winced when they ground the gears, and my chest tightened when they stalled out. Move over, I wanted to say, you’re hurting her. But not everyone’s car is a her, is it? Having paid more attention than most, I can safely say men are the worst. Most are ruthless drivers, and think they don’t make mistakes because they only care about results. They’re all driving Formula 1 in their heads, and think making the car obey is the height of skill. I used to sit in the passenger seat, dumb as a rock, watching my friends overshift like they were yanking a beaten horse around by the bridle. Feeling them ride the clutch and rev the engine just to hear its gratuitous moan. Not that women can’t be just as bad. Someone who anthropomorphises cars has no right to deal in stereotypes here. And any driver can be timid, afraid to give their ride what it needs. What it’s begging for. It’s agonising. I don’t know how to tell someone, pay attention. You’re not communicating. You’re not empathising. Yeah, with your car. But I’d take riding with a bad driver over a really good one any day. Take my first boss, for instance. His car was a beautiful trophy thing – expensive, engineered, tuned like a harp – and he was obsessed with her. He drove like he was making love. Oh god he was good. Whenever he gave me a lift I’d sit staring out the passenger side window and I’d feel him fuck her through the pedals. Slow, alert and sensual. His car was a she alright. And he had no idea I could tell. Humiliating. It felt intimately invasive. But it’s not like that kept me from getting hard. Yes, I get hard. That’s the part you want to hear, right? And you probably want to pretend you’ve never felt anything like it yourself – but if that’s true, it’s only because you don’t pay attention. You’ve never become aware of yourself inside the machine. Caressing it to life, feeling its pulse in every tremor. The shiver that runs through your body in the driver’s seat, stimulating places you couldn’t reach with fingers if you tried. The persistent vibration deep down in your loins. The perfume of the upholstery as it warms to your skin, as erotic as sweat and latex. You vanish into her. She vanishes into you. This is a safe space, okay? Don’t pretend a part of you doesn’t get it. * It doesn’t matter why Diana and I were on the road that night. What matters is the way it felt. That was the point for us. I drove a lot in those days, after dark when the country roads were practically empty. I’d slip my real life off like an ugly winter coat and escape to the land of petrol-scented fantasy. The fat, awkward, hairy loser who stammered his way through life and couldn’t hold down a human relationship to save himself – he went away when I got behind the wheel. We replaced him, Diana and me: quick, smooth and confident, hard, hot and purring. When we crested the hill, the fog took me by surprise. It had settled on the low ground of the shore and entirely blotted out the inlet. Normally you could see the sprawl of lights on the opposite side, tethered by the sleek sweep of Cavell Bridge, but that night the whole world beyond the motorway had been wiped clean. Even the road itself was just a long line of smeared floodlights trailing to nowhere. I knew where I was going – we’d driven that way a thousand times – but that night Diana told me it was different. All the little hairs on my forearms stood on end as we pelted down the road. Night air prickled over her walls and windows like my own skin. It was warm inside with the blowers on, but the curling cold outside shivered on the back of my neck. The road lights softened and diffused into the distance. The fog glowed where our single-track road split off from the motorway and sloped up to the foot of the bridge. It was otherworldly in a way I’d never seen before. Right then I knew, the way you know in a dream, that we were going to find ourselves at the passing place.
February 28, 2025 at 10:19 PM
mortalityplays.itch.io
💗VALENTINE'S WEEKEND SALE!💗

📚 Until Monday you can pick up any 3-book erotica bundle for $7 - including the season still underway!

📚 Better yet, you can now snag every FYF story from the 2024-25 run for just $25!

[Some bundles include preorders - you'll be emailed when they release!]
Promotional banner reads 'A DOZEN RED HOT READS FOR $25' alongside samples of cover art.
February 15, 2025 at 3:20 PM
mortalityplays.itch.io
Looking for weird sweaty sci-fi?🥵
Transbian romance?🌺
Leatherplay gender afirmation?🐕
Sloppy gooey sex comedy?👻
Somno?💤
Femdom?👠
Monsterfucking?🐉

There's something for everyone (and if there isn't yet, watch this space for a new FYF title each month!)
A screenshot of the various stories available on the FYF storefront
January 4, 2025 at 7:27 PM
mortalityplays.itch.io
🔥LAST DAY FOR CHEAP EROTICA!🔥

Everything in my back catalogue of 18+ shorts is currently on sale over on itch. Every story is minimum 5k words (with a couple of the longest punching in at over 8k), with gorgeous cover art by the sausage king of indie erotica @taylortitmouse.bsky.social!
Banner image: a naked person wrapped up in red ribbons, holding a string of lights. Text: Festive Sale Dec 20 - Jan 03 [the number '03' has been struck out and replaced with '5th!'] Published stories $2.49 each All $7 season bundles active OR full back catalogue for $20
January 4, 2025 at 7:27 PM
mortalityplays.itch.io
8k+ words(!!) in EPUB and PDF format, with a cover by the tinseled @taylortitmouse.bsky.social!

Content:

- Multipartner orgy
- Sexy older woman
- Light religious themes
- Chastity breaking
- Wet clothes / wetlook

PREVIEW PAGES:
COVER: An older woman in silhouette strikes a pin-up pose on top of a stack of wrapped gifts. She wears a sequined gold gown that cascades suggestively off her thighs, and holds a sprig of mistletoe. [Text breaks in following preview content do not line up 1:1 with images due to character limits] TITLE: Don’t Unwrap ‘til Christmas SUBTITLE: Written by R/L Monroe, Cover by Taylor Titmouse TEXT: “Oh not at all, Davey, I quite understand.” “With my knees, and Lola running around after the kids—” “The children must come first, especially at this time of the year.” “—Deborah only invited them home to spite me, you know. Thirty years old and still don’t know how to pick up after themselves. She taught ‘em that way on purpose.” “Poor dear, it must be really chaotic.” “She can’t stand to see me have a good time, and so she takes it out on the help.” “Well, I just thought I’d call and make sure. You know, you two are welcome every year. Deborah too, if she’d like to come.” “That’d be the day. Well, I appreciate it, Candy. It’s always good to know you’re thinking of us – and we’ll be thinking of you. We’d drive down just for the day, if it weren’t for this weather. But Lola gets nervous with the ice, and I don’t like to drive at night so much these days—” “Davey, you don’t have to explain a thing. Chag sameach from all of us, and do wish Lola a happy Christmas. Maybe we’ll see you next year.” “Next year, maybe. You and the rest enjoy yourselves, huh? I know you will.” Candela lay the phone down square beside her planner. She took up her pen and pulled a neat line of ink through David & Lola. The last set of names on her list, bar one. And as if in answer to that thought, her phone lit right up again and began to buzz and dance across the table. She caught it with one manicured hand. Tim F. – Just now Can’t make it tonight. Weather warning on road. Sorry short notice. Tie one on for us! x So that was that. She crossed her last hope from the guest list and tapped out a reply. Not a problem. Stay safe. Love to you both. x As her eyes drifted to the window, the first few flakes of snow fell from a heavy sky. Back when she’d first moved to the valley, snow had been unheard of. Now it was an annual occurrence. She put her chin in her hand and watched the unwelcome miracle descend. * “Oh, look! A house way up on the slope. What a pretty place to live, can you imagine?” Jeanette’s breath frosted the glass of the passenger side window. The world whipped by the car in shades of sunset, spun into a vortex of spiraling snow and a tangle of bare oak trees. Beyond it, drawing nearer in parallax, was a gorgeous old manor on the hill with its windows all lit up. Like something from a picture book. “Billy, do you see?” “I hardly see a darn thing right in front of me,” Bill replied hotly. He was bent forward over the wheel, squinting through the double pane of the windshield and his own thick glasses. “Language, darling.” “I’m sorry. It’s this blessed weather. I’m sure it’s picturesque from where you’re sitting.” Jeanette looked around and softened into laughter at the sight of him. He always scrunched his nose and pursed his lips when he was really ticked off, and he was really ticked off now. “Oh, Billy, let’s pull off somewhere, I’m sure it’ll die down. There ought to be a stop along here, I’m sure I saw it on the map. A cup of coffee will perk you right up.” “Take a look, will you? I’m afraid we’ll spin into a ditch if I take my eyes off the road.” Jeanette sat up and took Bill’s phone from its cradle on the dashboard. They’d had to switch off the speaking voice some miles back as they got out of satellite range, but she could still skim back and forth over the route they had planned. She pinched and zoomed into the strip of woodland past the first fork, around where she estimated they must be. “There’s a gas station just the other side of the trees,” she said. “Maybe thirty minutes?” “More like forty-five, the speed we’re going,” Bill grumbled, but the thought of a cup of coffee seemed to mollify him. His nose uncrinkled by a few degrees. “If it’s even open so close to Christmas.” “Open twenty-four hours, every day of the year, it says. The whole world doesn’t stop for our lord and saviour, you know.” “Don’t I know it,” Bill sighed. The two of them fell into comfortable silence, listening to carols on the car speakers. It was a good thing they were headed for a stop; the world grew dizzy and hazy as the sun slipped down past the horizon and only the car’s high beams cut through the whirling snow. Even Jeanette found herself disoriented peering through the trees. It was no wonder Bill was getting a headache. “Past the trees, you said?” “That’s right, just the other side.” “Well when do we get past the trees, for goodness sake?” “Don’t take a tone with me, Billy, I’m only telling you what’s on the map.” Jeanette frowned and pushed it around with her thumb. The little arrow of their car was greyed out on the road miles back, no help at all. The route they were on should have cut through the narrowest part of the woods in no time at all. That was unless— “Criminy.” Bill and Jeanette lurched forward as he hit the brakes hard. The phone spun out of her hand and clattered into the footwell. A sign glowed in the headlights, barely a foot from the hood of the car: No Access. “Oh no. Billy, I think we took the wrong turn,” Jeanette breathed. “We must have missed the exit when we came into the valley.” She craned around as if she might see the fork glowing in the tail lights. Nothing twinkled there but a fresh flurry of snow.
December 31, 2024 at 2:59 PM
mortalityplays.itch.io
The Autumn season was all about dark desire and monstrous impulses!
Covers and review quotes for each work in the bundle: Title: Break and Enter Cover: A figure asleep in bed, from the POV of someone outside the open window at night. Quotes: "Really cute, believable characters just make the scenario that much hotter." "Bold and I love it. It's refreshing to see from the POV of [the top]." "My subs and drones in the room felt seen, but also: it's hot." Title: Bodysnatched Cover: A skeletal finger points to a half-finished jigsaw of a smiling girl with green skin, stitched together frankenstein's monster style. Quote: "You must meet the Bone Lord."' Title: Sangfroid Cover: Two people kneel in silhouette, with red leashes and collars around their necks. They're framed by a woman's legs in the foreground wearing sharp red heels. The white background is lightly bloodstained. Quotes: "Oh this awakened something in me." "God Damn."
December 10, 2024 at 11:10 PM
mortalityplays.itch.io
How about some PREVIEW PAGES?
Cover image shows two silhouetted figures kneeling in the background, ech wearing a red leash and collar. A plus-size woman's legs frame them in the foreground, culminating in sharp red heels. Title: Sangfroid Text: 18+, R/L Monroe [Sample page text begins here for screen readers. Text splits don't match the images exactly due to character limit] Sangfroid Written by R/L Monroe Cover by Taylor Titmouse The sun bled out along the horizon like a dying soldier, pooling scarlet light along its passage. Sky and earth were two vast frozen planes hung one above the other; an infinity shot of snowfall and snow yet to fall, whose only interruptions were black teeth of spruce and aspen biting at the clouds. The sunset licked their branches with borrowed fire, and for a few minutes transformed the shimmering snowfields into the surface of the Phlegethon. The sun limped on toward its final resting place, and eerie blue shadows circled like carrion eaters, waiting for it to succumb. At last it dipped, it wavered, and it let out its last glowing breath. The sun fell, and night fell upon it. From the upper reaches of a dark glass building – a strange black cube on the dusk-blue snow – the air crackled and warmed. Lightless windows shivered. Percussion gleamed in the air, metallic, celestial, and then five chords. A smooth, soulful rhythm, cool and coy as the settling evening. Birds scattered from the treeline. A woman’s voice rolled out, amplified across the valley: I can do what I want. I’m in complete control. That’s what I tell myself. * The car dropped Lloyd at the top of the road, where the only options left for a driver were to brave the snowy mountainside or hairpin right back the way they came. With his gym bag at his feet, Lloyd leaned back in to reassure the stranger at the wheel: “No, you're good. Seriously, it's right here. I'm about to call them, they're expecting me. Worst case, they come find me. Really. But I appreciate it, though.” He lunged in to clasp the guy’s hand, all smiles. “You too. Drive safe.” Only one little white lie: he wasn't about to call anybody. He stood back, smiled and waved to the retreating vehicle. The screen of his smartphone lit a halo around him as he watched the headlights turn into tail lights, and those red dots crawled back down the track and vanished among the trees. Then it was just him and the distant music on the wind. Lloyd slung his bag over his shoulder, swiped to the front camera, and hit record. “Walk with me while I try not to get murdered! Okay guys, I just got here and—” He swung the camera around in a panorama. Dark hills, crowding trees, a heavy sky rippled with ghostly blue light that bounced from the place the sun died. “—it is 4pm. This is what it looks like up here at 4pm.” The camera found Lloyd again, smooth, dark and handsome, taking in the land around him with an incredulous eye. “My ride is gone. Like gone gone. Driver did not want to come up any further, and I'm not gonna lie, it does look haunted as fuck out here.” He turned the camera up the hill. Not that it could make out shit except a streak of sky and six feet of frozen ground. “Hear that? I don't know if the phone picks it up, but in case it does, that is not music I added to this video. That is coming from the mountain. And I am about to walk towards it, so. I sure hope it's my host and not some horror movie shit. Alright, let's go.” He cut and saved the video. It wasn't worth trying to upload anything live while a single bar of connection winked in and out at the top of his screen. With his gym bag and his winter coat weighing heavy on every step, he turned and trudged up the long frozen trail. Lloyd didn't need a map, or even the echoing score from the distant house to guide him. He knew exactly where he was going; he could feel her presence like a single thread tugging at a gossamer collar. The cold hardly touched him beneath the tingle of anticipation on his skin. He pushed himself up the slope until his muscles burned and he tasted copper on his breath. His Mistress was waiting. He had the good fortune to be recording as he came up the final rise around a thicket of mountain hemlock. He wanted to catch the reveal of the house – that slick modern cube, all black glass and steel, resonating with the rock music that spilled down the valley. He’d spotted it from the car on the drive up, like a dead pixel in the last rays of the sun. It had sent a shiver through him, and he’d felt an unseen grasp close around his spine as if the building itself were looking back at him. He trained the camera on the edge of the treeline. Damn, damn your eyes. Hot guitar licks shook the branches of the evergreens and curled in the air around him. It was almost a physical wall of sound, trembling in his ears and under his feet. It reached its climax as he panned the shot across the unfolding clearing before him, and slowly began to fade out. Perfect. If he could time the reveal of the building for just when— A woman stood there, staring down his camera. Lloyd jumped and fumbled the phone. It went skittering into the dark, somewhere in the snow. She was right there on the other side, as if she had been waiting the whole time. His heart pounded and he dropped his bag to search the frozen undergrowth. “Jesus Christ, you scared me.” “We don’t use those words,” the woman said. She stood there watching him, indifferent. “Sorry, I was startled.” Lloyd found his phone and brushed off a few ice crystals. A tiny web of cracks radiated from a ding in the top of the screen, but at least the video had saved. “You must be Luna?” “Uh, yeah.” Lloyd quashed the instinct to correct her. He was Luna here. It was the name his Mistress had granted to him, and the one he’d have to get used to for the next day or two. A lot longer, if he was lucky. He offered his hand. “Sol,” said the woman. She took his hand and gave it a single squeeze, and he was taken aback to find her fingers warm. Not only because she was out in the snow in dagger-point heels, leggings and an exposed midriff. “Oh! You’re not a—” “I’m the other apprentice,” she said, with a twitch of a smile. “Still human, for now.” Those words sent a thrill through Lloyd. Her soft, living hand in his and the shared secret in her eyes felt incredibly intimate. Incredibly real. That was the thing about Mistress Eclipse; everything around her felt like the events of a dream. But Sol? She was real. Breath clouded in front of her lips when she opened her mouth. The cling of her leggings picked out gym muscles and a soft natural paunch, and her cropped t-shirt hung from a pair of melon-sized breasts. He could see that at least part of her felt the cold.
December 1, 2024 at 6:48 PM
mortalityplays.itch.io
nearly forgot! ONE DAY LEFT to get all three of the Summer season stories as a bundle for just $7! That includes...

- lesbian monsterfucker tf witches
- transmasc leather dom inducts 'straight' dad
- psychic workplace exhibitionism
Bundle page showing the works included: 'Lucky Little Lunatics', 'Old Dog, New Trick', and 'Seeing You'
November 29, 2024 at 5:08 PM