Lovecraft

They stood outside the store, the letters gleaming in bright red neon.

"Really?" Lois asked, Blaze standing beside her. They were dressed, which the dickgirl was not happy about, and standing outside the creepiest looking sex store that Lois had personally ever darkened the door of. The windows were covered in life-sized anime girls having their panties ripped off by naughty tentacles, just enough of their bits and pieces remaining covered to abide by local decency laws.

"It's the nearest one," Blaze said, her tone defensive. Lois snorted and led the way through the door, and magnetic stands that would beep if anyone tried to shoplift.

The man behind the counter was about six feet tall, long-faced, thin-lipped, with a prominent jaw and dark eyes, a bit of grey scattered in his short black hair...and he wore a dark suit, like the undertaker at a funeral home. He did not smile, but sketched an old-fashioned bow, inclining slightly forward.

"Good evening," he said, in a strangely nasal Yankee accent. "Welcome to Lovecraft."

"We're looking for pocket pussies," the reporter said.

He turned stiffly, raising one hand to point at a far section of the store.

"In the outer abyss..." he said. "Past the lurid films and obscene books, lie the instruments of strange and ecstatic pleasures, oft forbidden and taboo. Few are those with the audacity to venture into such domain, to dare the alien sensations of those arcane devices..."

Lois grabbed Blaze's elbow and pulled her in the direction the salesman gestured in. Past shiny plastic DVD cases depicting all manner of breasts, buttocks, cocks, and stranger things in all manner of languages. Evidently the store had an eclectic clientele, as few of the covers were labeled in English, and Lois caught glimpses of nubile Asian women with live octopi, and weird feature films displaying special effects. In her peripheral vision, Lois saw films titled C'th'orgy, The Dunwich Whorer, The Horror of Red Hooker, The Cunts of Ulthar, and At the Mammaries of Madness. No interracial porn section though, at least not that she could see.

Woman and dickgirl passed racks full of yellowing pornographic magazines like Weird Tails, Spicy Strange Stories, and Innsmouth Illustrated. The reporter's eyes settled for a moment on a leather-bound copy of The Erotic Anime Movie Guide which she swore had the imprint of a human vulva molded into the cover...and then they were at the back of the store, among the carefully sealed boxed of pocket pussies and onaholes of every shape and size, only a bare few of which resembled anything like the human anatomy.

"Okay," Lois said. "We're here. Do you remember which brand?"