Tag Archives: Spicy Adventure Megapack

Tuffy and His Harem – Nick Anderson (1935)

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sascover“Broad-shouldered, big-muscled giant of a fellow” Tuffy Scott is standing in the stern of a row-boat.  What is it with the row-boats lately? I’m pretty sure they had steam, diesel and the internal combustion engine in 1935.

Tuffy was put into the row-boat with three “almost totally unclothed” babes when the casino boat the four had worked on in different positions — especially the girls — was raided. After the raid, they were somehow left behind, “three girls in tiny red silk panties, and red & white silk bandeaux that barely covered three sets of luscious breasts” and one lucky, lucky dude.

After the horrendous luck of being abandoned at sea with this half-naked titular harem, Tuffy has the even worse luck of spotting a ship almost immediately.  They make their way to the ship by using their only oar.  The process is  described as somehow positioning the oar between a girl’s legs, and being swiveled back and forth.  This is a row-boat, not a kayak, so I’m not sure how this worked.  But I’m pretty sure I know why the girls wanted to take the long way.

They find it is just a scow that broke its towing cable and was left behind.  Tuffy and the girls — Zoe, Mai and Honey — climb on board the deserted barge. After finding a barrel of water, they get some sleep.  Their good luck continues as a hurricane-caliber storm washes off the barge.  The next day they go all HGR (Home & Garden Radio) on its stern, patching the roof of the wheelhouse, caulking the walls, making the interior homey.

The girls — who had been dancers on the casino ship — are so appreciative of Tuffy’s leadership that they decide to put on a show for him.  Tuffy makes like Desi Arnaz on the bottom of a wooden bucket as the girls dance out of the wheelhouse, having completely ditched their skimpy tops.  “Their breasts, snowy mounds that trembled as they moved were free and uncovered . . . the three pairs of breasts seemed to be alive under the moon’s pale light.”  For the girls’ big finale, they one by one tear off their panties and run buck naked to the wheelhouse.  Batman v Superman gets made into a $250M shit-fest while this goes unproduced for 80 years? [1]

Inexplicably, Tuffy takes a while to ponder and reflect at his situation.  By the time he gets back to the wheelhouse, the girls are asleep.  The next morning, they spot a fishing boat.  The Mexican crew seems a little shifty to Tuffy and leers at his nearly naked harem.  They decide to risk it and promise the captain a reward if he will take then to San Diego; and a bonus if they go to the zoo.

Naturally, it is about five minutes before the crew wants to turn the rescue mission into a pleasure cruise.  Tuffy, with the girls’ help, kills one of the crew before the captain points two revolvers at him.  One of the girls slips Tuffy a knife which he is able to whip Jack Bauer-style into el capitán’s el necko.  Holding the rest of the crew at gunpoint, he sets course for San Diego.

The group separately recovers with friends.  Famous from their ordeal, the girls decide to take a show on the road and invite Tuffy to be part of the act.  Still clearly suffering from heatstroke and dehydration, Tuffy says, “I wouldn’t be no good in that sort of life.  All I’m good for is swabbing decks and such things.”

A model for such stories.  Sexy, scantily-clad then naked girls, strong sailor, danger at sea, action with the fishing boat.  Bravo.

Post-Post:

  • [1] Of course, Hollywood would botch this too by casting Ben Affleck as Tuffy.
  • First published in August 1935.
  • Also that month:  Meh, August 1935 is the new April 1935.  Was that the only two months this magazine was published?  I’d subscribe now.

The Isle of Monsters – Jane Thomas (1935)

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sascoverA row-boat carrying a butchered man washes ashore in Montaba, India.  The man has no ears, no tongue, and his heart has been ripped out of his chest.  Chief Investigator Juan  Anthony somehow recognizes the body as Morris and vows to get to the bottom of this.

Morris had been looking for information on the High Priestess Vishnaw who was thought to be living on the titular Isle del Monstruos.  Anthony reaches into Morris’s loin-cloth and finds a book.  Dude, use a rolled up sock like everyone else!

Morris wrote that he witnessed the horrible Dance of Fertilization.   Doesn’t really sound that horrible.  Unless it was like that time when I woke up one night and saw Tony banging Carmela on the Sopranos. Yeah, that was kind of horrible.

He reads Morris’s description of Vishnaw.  The legendary Indian deity is naturally described as “caucasian . . . flaming red hair.”  Anthony and his sidekick Hack Larson row to the island to get the scoop.

The search gets off to a good start — after the three hours of back-breaking rowing, I mean.  Their boat is suddenly surrounded by naked blonde babes in the water.  The girls with their “firmly molded breasts” make the men’s dingy move like they were motor-boating. They are propelled to the shore.

They continue rowing into a subterranean river where they hear a “groan . . . a low, sobbing sound,” then the sound suddenly stops —  sure sounds like a Fertilization Dance to me.  They see a set of stairs carved into the stone and tie up the boat.  The moaner was a bloody man now laying dead on a raised alter.  The tall blonde High Priestess has cut off his ears and ripped out his heart as “20-30 of her nearly naked disciples” look on with 40-60 bare breasts.  Within seconds, Anthony and Hack are captured.

Anthony awakens and is surrounded by vestal virgins.  He is hailed as the returned Great White God Vishnaw, and is being prepped for a union with the beautiful High Priestess. After having lots of the sex, Anthony understandably dozes off.  Only after he wakes up does he remember, oh yeah, wasn’t there another dude with me?  Yeah, the poor sap I saw dragged into a pit by some long hairy arms.  Anyhoo, wonder where that High Priestess babe got to?

In the darkness, Anthony sees something creeping toward him.  “A huge, hairy body with welts across its shoulders slithered toward the divan.  Two great eyes like balls of fire gleamed evilly from its glistening skull.  It left a slimy trail behind it like some enormous slug emerging from the bowels of the earth.”

As the thing gets between Anthony and the High Priestess’s “firm breasts, slowly rising and falling abdomen . . . the slimly tapering heads and legs,” he jumps on and starts a-wrasslin’.  Once again, he is knocked unconscious.

When he wakes up this time, he is not surrounded by blonde virgins, but six or eight ghastly beasts; well, they’re probably also virgins.  The things are chowing down on the dead man he saw earlier.

Anthony escapes and finds his gun.  He witnesses Hack being brought in as the next sacrifice.  Anthony goes all Travis Bickle and rescues Hack from being de-eared, de-tongued, and de-hearted.  They row away from the island after leaving a massive explosive charge. This story is so old, it was probably C-1. [1]

A fairly mediocre offering from this collection.

Post-Post:

  • [1] The first C-4 was just called C and developed in WWII.
  • First published in August 1935.
  • Also that month:  Will Rogers killed in plane crash.
  • Isle of Lucy

The Black 13 – Ellery Watson Calder (1935)

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sascoverAfter the last couple of racially-charged stories, I was relieved to see the title referred to a roulette wheel.

Steve King plunks down his last $5 on the titular black 13.  In a million-to-one [1] shot, his number actually hits and the croupier pushes $175 his way.  Another gambler reaches for it and says, “I beg your pardon.  That was my bet.” Fortun-ately she is “a young girl.  And damned attractive” or she would have ended up like Jake Jennings.

Inexplicably, he lets the girl have the loot and strolls out of the casino.  He hears someone come up behind him.  “It was the raven-haired wren who’d cabbaged my thirty-five blue chips.”

She knows King and his tragic story.  He was a pilot who crashed a plane in the desert, killing 3 passengers.  Though he was found to be drunk, she knows that he was set up. After the crash, someone poured gin down his throat while he was unconscious.  If he goes back to the US, the FCC will put him in jail (the FAA being 23 years in the future).  She also knows that his plane was sabotaged.

The girl hands him $175 which is precisely opposite to the transaction that I am used to with women.  She was just trying to get his attention with the cash grab.  She tells King to come to her room at 11 pm.

“She had discarded her evening gown.  She was clad in a diaphanous, flowing negligee. Black crepe it was, and her white body showed through it like a Turk’s dream of paradise.”  She immediately tells him to hide in the closet.  “What kind of shenanigan is this?” he asks.  Who says these stories aren’t educational?  I didn’t even know it was possible to have a single shenanigan.

Another man is coming to her room in 10 minutes.  Her plan is for King to conk him on the head.  They will then haul his body to an airplane which they will take back to El Norte.  King says he’s in enough trouble already and declines.  The girl starts coming on to him.  Looking a gift-ho in the mouth, he wants to know if she thinks he’s cute, or just needs his help.  His solution: “I ripped the negligee all the way open and fondled her breasts.”

She actually just needed his help, so throws him out . . . thus no longer having his help. King is a good egg, though, and circles around behind the building.  Knowing the girl is in trouble, he climbs the fire escape to her window hoping to witness her visitor; and maybe her boobs again.

The man comes in and grabs the girl.  She does not toss him out as she did King.  After producing some secret plans he asked for, she has a secret plan of her own.  She attempts to slip a Mickey into his drink, but he catches her.  As he begins roughing her up, King smashes through the window.  He conks the man on the head, so the original plan is back on track.

As she races to get dressed, King gets glimpse of her “white melons”.  They had been mere “hillocks” 2 pages ago.

On the way to the airport, the girl says there was a government agent on the plane King had crashed.  An organization of international spies coincidentally called Black 13 sabotaged the plane.  After the crash, they swooped in, lifted the secret plans off the agent’s dead body, poured gin down King’s gin-hole [2], and stole 500 packs of peanuts. She finally reveals her name — Yolande Carteret — and says the agent was her brother Ted Carteret!  King collates these facts . . . roulette, black 13, Black 13, government agent, secret plan, sabotage . . . and concludes Yolande Carteret is not married — ha cha cha!

Black 13 intercepts them at the airport and plans to drop them over the desert from 5,000 feet.  There is a double-cross, a fake double-cross, gun fire, a barf-bag, and the other shenanigan.  King is able to save the day.  The spy ring is smashed, his name is cleared, and he gets the girl.  He celebrates by pawing the “creamy white, velvety surface of her swelling  white breasts” like a TSA Agent right there on the tarmac.

Another pretty good outing for what it is.

Post-Post:

  • [1] And, by “million”, I mean thirty-seven.  Odds are 36-to-1 on a French wheel. This story takes place in Mexico, though, so I’m going with the American version. Why is ours 37-to-1?  Donald Trump is right — we get screwed on every deal!
  • [2] i.e. alco-hole.
  • First published in August 1935.
  • Also that month in plane crash news:  Will Rogers dies.
  • Ellery Watson Calder was previously heard from with The Tattooed Blonde.
  • Heh, hehe . . . cabbaged.

Red Bamboo – Jason Lyttell (1935)

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sascoverAt the head of the safari rode a lone white man and a girl.

The man is checking out her “undulating breasts” with “an insane desire to crush one firm globule in his hairy hand.”   The men in this collection have the hairiest mitts since 3rd-from-the-right-guy on the evolution chart.  They also seem to share another trait:

  • Shanghai Jester:  Her boyish body was clad in a negligee that had fallen open at the throat.
  • Cave of the Criss-Cross Knives:  A pair of sheer silk step-ins only partially covered her boyish hips.
  • Red Bamboo: He licked his lips as his eyes strayed down her body . . . down her slim waist to her lithe boyish thighs.

Sally’s fiancee John Evans financed this safari and is bringing up the rear.  Leaving the sweaty, glistening, scantily-clad Sally with the manly-man guide Masterson on the lead camel might not have been the wisest choice.

Masterson stops the caravan for the night.  When one of the crew [1] begins pitching a tent (heh, heh), Masterson kicks him for positioning it above some bamboo shoots.  “The damn things will grow right through a man’s bedding during the night!”

Masterson gets a nice show from Sally as she strips for bed, silhouetted against the side of her tent (like in Austin Powers but with less fisting (or Seinfeld)).  After getting pretty worked up, he creeps over to her tent.  It seems likely he would have raped her if Evans didn’t save the day.

The men fight, but stop upon hearing “a weird, pulsating wail.”  Evans recognizes it as the cry of frightningly-named Torzo the Wicked One from the not-at-all frightningly-named Valley of Little Pale Women.  Evans is concerned for Sally’s safety, but Masterson refuses to turn back.

In a temple in the jungle, Masterson finds a jewel.  As he is stealing it, something strikes his hand — he is surrounded by little white women who only come up to his waist.  “They were entirely naked except for hair like spun gold . . . His eyes fastened themselves on the tiny curves of their perfectly formed breasts . . . heavy gold bracelets encircled their tiny ankles.”  They swarm him and he begins tearing them apart, breaking bones, squashing them.  Somehow, they manage to paralyze him, and he lets out “the long agonized wail of a soul in hell.”

Sally, Evans, and their associates [1] hear the scream and decide maybe it is time to turn head back to civilization.  As Masterson is writhing in agony on the ground, he sees the body of another man with a bloody bamboo shoot sticking through his abdomen.  I think we are to believe that they are going to kill Masterson by paralyzing him and letting a bamboo shoot grow through his body.  If this is indeed the ludicrous plan, all I can say is BRAVO!  That is truly original.

Masterson let out another “soul-rendering scream“.  One of Evans’ entourage [1] says, “Better we pack.  Big white man not come back.”

The story is nothing special, but kudos for imagery of a tribe of tiny naked blondes — and I can’t stress this enough: tiny adult women, not children! — swarming Masterson. And for an utterly original method of torture and execution which is actually fore-shadowed.  Well done!

Post-Post:

  • [1] Slaves
  • First published in June 1935.
  • Also that month: Joe Louis whoops Primo Carnera.

Also seen this day: After being delayed more times than a Delta flight through Atlanta, Flight 7500 was finally released this year.  It is not bad as much as it is a missed opportunity.  The pieces are all here: mostly good cast, unoriginal yet always fun plot, claustrophobic airplane setting — it’s just very blah.  Not even the very cute stewardesses can save it (and might be the most unbelievable element of the movie).

White Meat – Don King (1934)

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sascoverOne hundred black Monbuttus . . . danced about the nude white man chained to a stake.

Well, this is going to be uncomfortable.

I mean because of the naked dude — let’s get back to the topless babes like every other story in this collection so far.

We get a description in pretty good detail of the man being burned at the stake.  As he is partially consumed by the flames, he screams in agony.  Finally, he is dead, the constraining vines have burned away and he falls to the ground.  The Monbuttus then . . . uh, eat him.

The rest of this is pretty standard stuff for the era, maybe — British colonials, broad-shouldered American savior, virginal blonde daughter [1], cannibalism, white slavery, etc. But sitting here at 2 am in 2016, it doesn’t play very well, and is too mean-spirited to even enjoy mocking.

But what did I expect from a story called White Meat?

These posts are just a tool to force me to experience a bunch of TV shows and short stories that I never got around to.  Mission Statement accomplished.  This one can be quietly entered into the record as short story # 11 in Spicy Adventures.

Post-Post:

  • [1] Who are these professors and colonials who drag their beautiful, blonde, clothes-shedding virginal young daughters into the jungle?  I don’t know, but God bless ’em.
  • First published in April 1934.
  • Kane Bedford’s name changes to Kane Wilbur halfway through the story.
  • Probably too late for a sequel called The Other White Meat.
  • The other Don King.