Chris Kalyta
adult stories of adventure and romance
I write for the fun of it.  The interactions of characters, as they progress through a complex or simple plot, are enjoyable whenever they're well-written.  I find my stories fun to write, or I stop and rethink the plot and characters, or possibly give up and start a new project.  Others seem to find my tales entertaining, much to my surprise.

You may find a strong Canadian slant to my stories and this is because I am a proud Canadian.  Many of the tales take place in my home country and many of the characters are Canadian, even if they are living elsewhere.

Perversely, I don’t consider myself an author of erotica.  I prefer to think I write adventures, usually with some romance and sex.  The protagonists are adults and, well, adults do adult things such as have sex.  Perhaps I’m just fooling myself, but I’ll let the readers decide for themselves on which genre(s) my writing fits into.

Many of my stories have elements of the fantastic in them, such as elves, magic, mythical monsters, and people out of legend.  I take inspiration from anywhere I can, but I find my own interests in fantasy come from ancient mythology, fairy tales and fantasy literature dating from the early part of the twentieth century. 

an excerpt from a first draft of The Niagara Campaign (a sequel to The Doctor's Daughter) set during the War of 1812 and after the Americans have captured York.  The Americans have invaded the Niagara and sent the greatly-outnumbered English army fleeing north, leaving the Upper Canadian residents of the Niagara Region helpless before the invaders (to be completed late summer or autumn of 2017):

"So...Father will not be home for some time," she blurted out.  Then, she blushed.  "I mean...I will be alone here...but I will be fine if you must would be nice if you were able to stay for a short while and offer some protection should..."

"...should some wayward American soldiers make their way here and threaten you?" he finished.

"It is unlikely, of course..."

"However, it could happen.  Since the fighting seems to have ended my duty now is to protect the citizens of Upper Canada...and you are a loyal citizen."  He seemed unsure of his logic.  "And your father did place you into my care..."

"Why, of course!  You are duty bound to watch over me until he returns!"

There was a short silence.

"Did you..." she began, "did you desire anything else?"

Their eyes met.  He took her hand in his and he leaned forward.  The couch creaked at the shifting of weight and surprised them, making them separate quickly in embarrassment.

"I suppose I'd best put the food back in the kitchen, in the larder..." she murmured.

He reached out for her chin, then turned her face to his.  They leaned together and kissed, forgetting everything else.  Both were lost in the warmth and wetness of their kiss.  Bodies shifted.  Arms and hands explored.

Then they parted, and were surprised to find Barbara was now sitting across his lap, held in place by his encircling arms.

"That was..." he began.

"Magical," she finished for him.

"You expect your father may not return for several hours?"

She nodded quickly, her eagerness to see where this would go evident upon her face.  "Has it always been so when you kissed a woman?" she asked quietly, her fingers playing with the buttons on the collar of his jacket.

"Never before.  You are unlike everyone I have known, Barbara."

He pulled her close and they kissed again.  This time, they embraced more tightly, as if to merge their bodies together into one.  Their lips parted but he kissed her cheek, her chin, then her head went back and he was nibbling at her throat in a way that made her heart skip a beat.  The lovemaking felt as if it were going on for hours, though they both knew it must be mere minutes.

"I am becoming too warm," she gasped.

His mouth left her neck.  "I, too," he whispered in her ear.


They both licked their lips.

"Perhaps...," she said again, "we should go up to my bedroom?"

He raised an eyebrow, and she was afraid she had revealed too much of her unladylike hunger.

"We could open a window and a breeze would cool us..."

"Your bed is sufficiently large enough for both of us?" he asked.

She smiled broadly.  "For both of us, and as we are to be man and wife soon enough I see no harm in enjoying each other's company."  She stood.  "You do not think me too...lustful?"

William stood, then took both of her hands in his.  He kissed them.  "I think I would prefer you enthusiastic rather than submissively accepting, Barbara."

Without speaking she led him to the stairs and they began to ascend.  A horse's neigh made them stop.

"That was just outside!" he exclaimed.

"Mr. Brown's steeds?  You left them tied up at the fence?" she offered.

An axle creaked and they heard Doctor Aimes as he called on his horse to halt.

"Father!" gasped Barbara, clasping and unclasping her hands.  "Father's home!"

"I had best leave."

"You were going to speak to him," she reminded.

"Oh, yes!  I'll speak to him, then."

They stood on the stairway for a few seconds.

"Perhaps..." Barbara said slowly, "we should have a seat in the parlour?"

"Ah, yes!  In the parlour," he agreed.

They descended the stairs and went into the parlour, where William looked about in thought and then sat down upon a chair.  Barbara spent a short time smoothing out the couch then sat upon it.  They both watched the door, waiting for Doctor Aimes.

After what seemed like long minutes the front door to the home opened and a grey-haired, mutton-chopped man shuffled in.  He hung his jacket upon a peg then sighed, exhausted.

"Father!" blurted out Barbara.  She glanced nervously at William.  "Father.  You are home earlier than I had thought you would be."

"Whose horses are those?" asked Doctor Aimes as he came into the room.  He saw Captain Christian and nodded, though his face was slack and his eyes sad.

           William rose to his feet.  "We borrowed them from Mr. Brown, sir.  I escorted your daughter home, to safety, then the roar of canons ended and I decided I would stay until you arrived.  I hope I was not overstepping myself?"    

an excerpt from a first draft of an untitled erotic science fiction story (set about one hundred years from now) about a woman forced to work in a gangster's casino because of her brother's debts, and a man who can't seem to lose while he's gambling (to be completed late 2017):

“Please, come with me miss Hiezen.”  He turned and began to walk away, then stopped when he realized she was not following.  “For Peter’s sake you had better come with me,” he urged.

“Of course.”

He led her parallel to the rows of gambling machines.  Patron pushed buttons, waited a few seconds then usually muttered and popped another token in.  Every once in awhile there were some flashing lights, a shout, and then tokens spilled into a tray.

Two burly men stood with their arms crossed, against a wall.  Deborah’s host walked between them and disappeared through a curtain.  She followed, finding a dark hallway beyond.  the slightly built man was to her left and she hurried after him.  Eventually they came to a door, then descended some stairs.

“Look...” she said uncertainly, “I think you’d better tell me what’s going on.  Pete told me to come here and that someone would meet me at the entrance, and I know he’s in trouble because he’s always in trouble.”

The man ignored her and kept descending, proceeding across landings and passing by doors until she had lost count.  Finally he stopped and waited for her to join him beside a large metal door.  He pulled a gun from his jacket.

“I’m not rich!  You can take what you want from my com, but there isn’t much there!”

“Open the door and get inside, miss Hiezen,” he ordered.  “I won’t tell you twice.”

She licked her lips and did as she’d been instructed, cursing Pete for getting involved.  There was a small room with two chairs and a cheap metal card table.  The far wall was glass, and beyond the window was another room where Pete sat in a metal chair, his hands upon a metal table.  Three large, thug-like men stood around him.  Her host motioned for her to take a seat, then closed the door.  She watched as he crossed the room then rapped on the glass.

“Get started!” he barked.

One of the thugs pulled out a mallet while the other two held Pete’s left arm in place, with his hand palm down upon the table.

“Deb!  Do whatever they want, Deb!  They’re going to kill me if you don’t!”

“Pete!  What have you done?”

The mallet was raised and came down suddenly with a crunch.  Pete screamed.

“Stop it!  Stop it!” she shouted, rising from her seat.

Her host pointed the gun at her then lowered it.  She took the hint and sat again.

“What do you want from us?” she demanded, tears welling up in her eyes.  Pete had been released and was now curled up in a ball on the floor.

“Pete Hiezen owes us a great deal of money, miss Hiezen.  And since you are his only living associates thought you might be able to help him pay of his debt.”

“I’m not rich.  And neither is Pete.”

Her host went to the window.  “Sit him up again.  A crushed hand doesn’t seem to bother her.  She is a vet, after all.  Maybe you should crush something more...creative.”

Pete was hauled up from the floor and thrown belly-down onto the table.  While two men held him in place, the third pulled away his pants and underwear.  Pete, tears streaming down his face, lifted his head and stared into the window.

“Please make them stop, Deb!  Give them whatever they want!”

“I’ll give you whatever you want!” she shouted.  “How much does he owe you?  Don’t hurt him!”

“Two point four million.”

“I...I don’t have...”  She stopped breathing, then had to force herself to take in air.  “I don’t have that.  I’m a vet and we don’t make much...”

“We are quite aware of how much you are worth, miss Hiezen.  Pete was most forthcoming about your financial situation.”

“ can I pay off his debt if you already know I don’t have...”

Her host reached into his coat pocket with his free hand and extracted some papers and then a pen.  He placed them down upon the table in front of her.  “Read them over and then sign them.”  He rapped on the window again.  “She’s thinking about the deal.”

The men beyond the glass stood and waited, still holding Pete in place.  Deborah wiped the tears from her eyes and began reading.  After two minutes she stopped.

“What the Hell is this?” she demanded, holding the papers in her closed fist.

“An employment contract, miss Hiezen.  It’s all perfectly legal.  Your contract with Harris ended eight months ago.  You’ve been allowed to stay on the station because he’s received special dispensation for you, owing to your talents.”  He leered at her.  “And I’m sure Harris is well aware of all your talents, my dear.”

She grit her teeth.  “The aren’t enough vets up here.  I’m needed.”

Her host put the gun back into a hidden pocket in his jacket.  “We need you.  We’re offering you a five-year stay with free room and board in the casino.  There’ll be no air tax to pay.  No water tax.  No waste tax.  In exchange you come to work for us for the full term.”

“As a vet?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

“No.”  He licked his lips.  “You’re an intelligent and lovely young woman.  We have many opportunities for a person such as yourself.  Sign on the dotted line and your future is assured for the next five years.”

Her gaze went back to the papers.  “The responsibilities are open-ended...and there’s no mention of pay!”

“Perhaps we haven’t made ourselves perfectly clear, my dear.  Do you love your brother?”

“Of course...!”

“Well, unless you sign right this second you will spend the next eight hours watching that window as my men hurt him in every possible way they can imagine.  Then, you’ll escort them to an airlock where you and Pete will be shown the beauties of the void...without the benefit of protective gear, of course.”  He leaned close.  “I can tell you that no-one will find the bodies.  They’re given a gentle nudge and burn up in the atmosphere.  And Pete will welcome death as the air in his bloodstream boils out of his lungs, especially after you let him suffer worse than anyone should ever have to suffer.”

“You’ll let him go?  If I sign?”  She picked up the pen for good measure.

“He won’t leave the station, believe me.  There’s nowhere for him to run.  So, he can roam free.  We will put a tracker on him so we can find him whenever we wish.  As a vet you’re very familiar with that technology.”

She squeezed the pen until her knuckles were white.  A tear fell onto the contract.         
an excerpt from a first draft of King of the Skies, an attempt at a non-erotic 'steampunk'-type of story (possible for late 2017 or early 2018)
            “I’m not afraid of you,” she said, drawing me from my distracted thoughts.

I turned and beheld Miss Pines; Constance to her friends, however I was not one of those being simply assistant to the master of steam aboard the Pegasus, her father’s airship.  She wore a fine blue dress, possibly of silk, with an impossibly impractical skirt that swung this way and that in the winds on the open deck, as well as gloves and a shawl to keep out the cold.  Her face was smooth and her hair was curled in the latest style.  She was pretty enough, though I had little interest in what I was then sure was a vapid and dull bauble.

“I said: I’m not afraid of you.”

“I heard you, Miss Pines.  Good evening.” I turned back to the rail took a pull on my pipe.  Smoke dissipated quickly in the breeze.  The clouds were dark against the night time sky as the glowing Pegasus hummed across the sky, heading east, toward the rising sun and a grand destiny.  Or, so we hoped, having all fallen under Professor Pines’ spell.

The lady strode across the open deck, her boots clicking on the hardwood, until she stood at the rail but a few yards from me.  “I only meant that you didn’t have to vacate the observation deck simply because I appeared, sir.”  Her voice had taken on a chill.

I nodded, then carefully tapped out my pipe.  “I had wondered why you had said what you did, Miss Pines.  Thank you for clarifying the matter.”

“What...what were you thinking when I interrupted you?”

My brow furrowed at the intrusive question.  She must have noticed.

“I only ask...well, here we are but twenty-five souls aboard my father’s dream, setting out on a mission to save the world from itself, and it seems foolish to not act as friends amongst such a small group of comrades, does it not?”

I nodded again. She was clearly not the young girl I had first taken her for.  “Miss Pines, I was looking out at this vista — what I could see of it in this dark — and I was wondering how different we are from birds.”

“From birds? I pray that you are not planning on attempting unassisted flight, sir.  Have you been drinking?”

I chuckled. After a second she joined me. “Nothing so detrimental to my future health, Miss Pines, I assure you.  I was thinking on the fact that we see as a bird sees, standing upon this deck as Pegasus floats far above the land.  The troubles below seem so distant and unimportant when one can simply take wing.  A bird must look at the other land-bound beasts with such disdain.”

She put a hand on her bonnet and leaned over the rail, staring into the darkness below. “My eyes have not adjusted fully. However...I think I begin to see your point.  You think of our mission and how we seek to improve mankind’s lot and yet we have left our earth-bound brethren below, almost as if to their own devices.  Do you suggest that my father’s plans are folly, doomed to fail, and result in a separation of mankind into two species; one a Morlock-like, coarse and brutish, man-beast and the other a graceful and detached Eloi?”

I shrugged helplessly.  “I supposed nothing of the sort, Miss Pines.  You asked what I was thinking and I told you.”  She looked embarrassed.  “I have faith in your father’s plan to overcome the cruelties of man through the use of this grand steam-powered machine.  And I think that men and birds are nothing alike.”

Placated, she rewarded me with a small smile.  “Have you read Mister Well’s latest?”

“Wells?” I had not heard of the man, having spent my life immersed in machinery.

A look of disappointment crossed her face.  “I had thought that you were a man of letters since you spend your idle time in deep thought...”

“Your pardon, Miss Pines.”  I bowed slightly. “I can read, but have only partaken in the Bible and whatever book grants me further knowledge of steam engines.  I’ve had little time for fiction, if that is what this Mister Wells you speak of dabbles in.”

“Dabbles! I think...” she began raising a finger, then she regained her composure and smiled sympathetically at me. “I think that you have not experienced the true joy of reading, sir, until you have experienced the imaginative plots and ideas that come from a skilled mind.  If you chance to visit my father’s cabin I will loan you a book or two to read in your spare time.”

“I...I would, indeed, be interested in borrowing such books, Miss Pines, if it does mean so much to you.  Your father will not mind?”

“They are my books, not his.  He thinks such things...frivolous.”

“Well, Miss Pines, I am curious about what you have said.”

She allowed herself a small and triumphant smile, then turned to leave.

“Miss Pines?”

She stopped and turned about gracefully.  The light say to the deck proved no trouble for her.  “Yes, sir?”

“I apologize. I should have introduced myself.” I bowed low.  “Mister William Starling, at your service.”

She curtsied. “Miss Constance Pines, at yours.”

“Will we meet again?” I asked.

She laughed. “It’s a small airship, and there are but twenty-five of us aboard Mister William Starling.”

Now it was my turn to be embarrassed.  “Please call me Bill.  You did suggest that we should act as friends amongst such a small group...”

“That I did,” she replied with a pert nod.  “Very good, Bill.  Perhaps I shall see you at dinner one evening?”


And she departed the deck, leaving me alone in my thoughts.  So, there was a brain in the midst of those dark curls, I thought. Although, the likelihood of my being invited to dinner at Professor Pines’ table was vanishingly small and she must have known that, the idea of spending time socializing with the lovely Miss Pines was an attractive one.

            I looked back over the rail.  Any doubts I’d had about taking on this job were fast dispersing in the wind that swirled about the deck.  I’d not believed the tale of the airship when it had first been whispered in my ear, and then I’d come to the west coast and actually seen it with my own eyes.  Pegasus was an ambitious project led by a great man who sought to cure humanity of many of its ills.  His plans were daunting, but with the right crew around him Professor Pines might actually succeed in elevating his fellow men. 
an excerpt from a first draft of Cuckoo, a science fiction adventure/mystery set in modern times (for late 2017 or early 2018 on Literotica?):

“Can you come into my office for a few minutes?”

Grace nodded, then followed the woman into a small and rather plain doctor’s office.  The woman undid her jacket and sat behind her desk.  Grace looked about then sat upon the couch along the far wall.

“That won’t be necessary, Miss Newton.  Unless you’d prefer to recline?”

“Oh, no.  I just thought...” she sheepishly rose from the couch and sat in the chair so she could face the doctor across the desk.  “I think I’m here by mistake...” she offered.

“Oh definitely, Miss Newton,” agreed the doctor, removing her glasses. “I’m Doctor Esposito.  I’ve looked over your information and I think some people have been very lax in their responsibilities toward you.”

Grace stared at the woman in confusion.

“When did you begin taking this medication?”

“I don’t remember exactly when.  I suppose since I was very young.”

The doctor scribbled some notes upon a pad of paper.  “So you don’t recall any gradual increase in dosage or an increase in the number of pills?”

“No...”  Grace tried hard to remember.  “I’ve taken these pills as long as I can remember.  I need them.”



“I’ll need more than that, Miss Newton.”

“Because...I set fires.”

“And when was the last time you set a fire, Miss Newton?”

“Oh, I can’t remember ever setting one.  It all happened when I was a child.  That’s why I take the medication.”

The doctor put her pen down.  “This medication is not designed to dampen dark impulses, Miss Newton.  It does diminish your capacity to think and to act independently.  It makes you extremely susceptible to suggestion and—“

“But I need it!”

“My point is that you don’t need it, Miss Newton.  In fact, I’m very suspicious whether you ever needed such medication to prevent you from setting fires.”


“Look.  I can’t order you to stop taking the medication, Miss Newton.  If the medication made you a danger to anyone I could commit you to a medical institution and simply wait until the drugs have left your system - I expect that would take only a few days.  I do implore you to listen to me and stop taking these drugs.”

“But...I’ll be a danger to everyone...” sputtered Grace.

“I sincerely doubt that.  However, what if I were to see you every second day to monitor your progress as you detoxify?”

“I suppose...but, I was told I had to take them.”

            “Miss Newton, I will be perfectly honest with you.  I suspect some crimes have been committed and that whoever first prescribed this medication was involved.  Once you are off the medication you may start remembering things that are very troubling.  This may not be the case, however I think deliberate and malicious intent is more likely than gross incompetence in this particular case.”        

an excerpt from a first draft of Minx: Paleozoic Zone (episode 5), to go on Literotica or ebook in late 2017 or early 2018
            Dragon was easily manhandled by the other hyperman, who threw his enemy’s bound form into a holding chair. Straps of reinforced fibre wrapped themselves around Dragon’s limbs and mid-section, rendering him helpless though the cords that Mahar had used earlier had already accomplished that job.  From under the armrest, a syringe appeared, which then injected some chemical through Dragon’s shirt and skin before disappearing back into a tiny alcove.  The cords that had been tied around the man’s body suddenly dissolved, leaving only the straps from the chair holding him in place.

Dragon tensed his muscles and tried to expand the space his form occupied.  Mahar sneered in disgust and walked away, leaving Dragon alone with Vanessa.  The bindings on the chair tightened painfully, forcing a grimace from the stubborn hyperman. He grinned back at the naked woman who watched him while she grinned evilly.

“It won’t work,” she commented.

Dragon relaxed.  “No, I suppose not.”  His mind shifted gears; Vanessa was a tool to help him gain freedom, and she was best manipulated with fear he recalled.

“He’s going to kill you,” she noted with a chuckle.

“Yes, there’s no point in belabouring the obvious Vanessa.”

She blinked in surprise. “You’re not afraid?”

“Of dying?”  He threw back his head and laughed.  “My death will simply free my soul so that it may return to its place beside the Creator.  There are far worse things than death, Vanessa.  And Mahar’s going to do many of those things to me before he lets me die.”

“And you’re not terrified?” she asked, her voice a little shrill.

“What’s the point in terror? It’s not going to save me. It’s not going to save you either, Vanessa,” he added, as sympathetically as he could.

“Save me?”  Her eyes opened wide, and she hugged her chest.

“Yes.  He’ll visit horrendous tortures upon you soon enough.”  He let that sink in for a few seconds.  “What did you trade him?  He wouldn’t let you walk around his base like this...unless you’d offered him something he couldn’t resist.”

“I...I told him...” she drew herself up, obviously trying to mimic Dragon’s bravado, “I told him he could do whatever he wanted with me once you and that slut were dead.”

“Minx is alive then?” Dragon asked, too eagerly he realized.  He knew he had to change the subject.  “Mahar will be showing you the manner of your demise as soon as he can.  He’ll want to see you worry and fret, and watch as your nerves slowly shatter in anticipation of the hell you’ll face, Vanessa.”

“But you and Minx will be dead!”

“I feel sorry for you, Vanessa.” He saw her surprise at that admission, then disbelief.  “No, I really do.  I can desensitize myself to whatever tortures he visits upon me, and I’ve done some modifications on Minx that give her a limited ability to do the same.” It was a lie, but it had conveniently popped into his head.  “But you’re just a normal human, Vanessa.  You’ll feel everything he does to you when the time comes.”

She swallowed hard.  “You were going to drag me behind that boat and feed me to sea monsters!”

“I was never serious about that, Vanessa.  If I had been, would I have cared whether or not you were conscious?”


“You’d tried to hurt Minx,” he reminded her.  “Didn’t it occur to you that I’d want to get revenge upon you?  Otherwise, I had no intention of harming you.”  He looked her in the eye as she shook her head in disbelief.  “Didn’t I rescue you from that giant squid monster, Vanessa?  I could have stayed safely aboard my vessel while it crunched your bones and dragged you beneath the waves.”

“You’re playing with my head!” she accused.

“Could be,” he agreed. “But, have I ever done worse to you?”

“You gave me to that pirate! He did things to me!”

“Just like your friends would have done things to Minx?  Simple revenge, Vanessa.  Nothing more.”


Dragon nodded his head to the door through which Mahar had left the room.  “You’d best follow after him.  He’ll get suspicious if you stay here too long.  Mahar doesn’t want you to learn anything that might help you escape his clutches.”

           Vanessa hurried out the open doorway, eager to find Mahar and prove Dragon’s words to be lies.  She took one curious look back at him then ran off down the hall.  The prisoner relaxed in the chair.  He smiled.  Vanessa would be very easy to manipulate, especially since Mahar was unlikely to bother considering what harm a harmless human could do.
Chris Kalyta
February 3, 2018