El Sexorcisto!


Now begins the greatest of all time.

An angry young man named Alex isekai’s into a bizarro parody of the American West. All he wants is to avenge his best friend and sister, both taken by the hands of a tyrannical neo-fascist government. All he gets is trouble— a Nazi biker gang called ‘the Rocket 88s’ harasses him the moment he spawns, the few townspeople he meets are lunatics, and a beautiful catgirl in black spandex wants to

[CENSORED by Amazon™]

This catgirl, Anastasia, also offers to help him by taking him back to her own all-female paramilitary biker gang: the Wytches Crue. Few survive the resulting pandemonium.

Poor little Alex. Harems aren’t always easy to deal with, but sometimes all you need are a few good ladies to set your mind straight— preferably with Gatling guns, panzerfausts, and high-octane motorcycles.


The truth revealed itself to me like a red crack exploding through my brain. RPG statistics floating in the air, glimpsed out of the corner of my eye, hanging off of a cold screen with no interactivity. The repetitious act of grinding, farming for money, looking for loot, following an epic story that existed only for one person. My own face controlling a body that looked exactly like mine with sexier details to satisfy someone else’s fantasies. Words written by someone else falling from my mouth. Gorgeous women without conscious minds of their own following a script whose words only appeared as I looked at the page, a script that imprisoned them to follow me without reason. A tragic backstory I wouldn’t explain until convenient for the plot. I was in a LitRPG harem novella. Funny as Hell, it was the most horrible thing I could think of.

And yet the moment I embraced awareness of my fate, it slipped away from me and I awoke on a sandy road— an amnesiac.

El Sexorcisto! is an 18+ story. You waived your right to complain about adult situations and evil Nazi bikers upon reading this disclaimer, much like how our lucky protagonist waived his right to complain when the story began. In other words: complain as much as possible. There was also an attempt to give some love to old ’60s biker movies, but our lucky protagonist ruined it. In order to give your help to the lovely ladies of the Wytches Crue to pay him back for this horrible wrong, please call 1-800-BEAT-HIS-ASS. Have fun, go crazy, be wild!


Ever watch some old exploitation flicks? I didn’t. But I still wrote this! If you’re into harems, Gamelit stories, and a tad bit of philosophizing about pre-Singularity virtual reality, you might like it.

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