“If you touch yourself on Halloween night, you become food for The Snack Witch.” The living call this an urban legend. The dead know better.
Every Halloween, the witch curses anyone who dares touch themselves on Halloween night, turning their bodies into delicious snack food. Once the change is done, she appears naked from the darkness to claim her treat. And, as she feasts, her victims experience a pleasure unlike any other as she erases them from this world, one bite at a time.
If you don’t believe me, read these accounts of four real-life encounters. The details are as steamy as they are violent, but whatever you do - don’t read it on October 31, or she’ll come for you, too!
The Wholesome Addiction Podcast raves: “I’ve never wanted to be a soda bottle so bad in my life!” Find out what they mean in this second tale of “The Snack Witch” by G.H. Reynolds!
Book contains a prologue followed by four short stories: “Midnight Snack,” “Hard Candy,” “Sweet Slumber,” and “Raw Dough.”
This 15,737-word supernatural erotic adventure contains explicit adult content, including self-pleasuring, intense transformations, seduction, magical violence, mild vore, and romantic deaths. It is not recommended for readers under age 18.
About the Author
G.H. Reynolds no longer exists. I devoured her last Halloween. She of all people should have heeded my warning and not taken that dirty book with her to bed that night. But there she was, two fingers inside her, her naked body reduced to nothing more than a sticky mound of salt water taffy – pineapple flavored. She was delicious – though I left her apartment quite thirsty. I didn’t expect to wake up there the next morning, wearing her clothes, working her day job, and tending to her plump Chihuahua with the soft golden fur. It makes no difference. October 31st is always just a few days away, and with it, the certainty that I will be born again, more powerful – and hungry – than ever. In the meantime, I’ll keep writing about my naughty adventures. Turn her Amazon, Nook, and Smashwords accounts to my purpose. I thank you, reader, for supporting this starving artist, and the impostor lurking beneath her skin. Perhaps, if the night comes where you and I meet, I will take pity on you and give you a most pleasurable death.