/lit/ - Literature

“What are you reading?” Helen asked with a smile, coming into the bedroom and seeing her friend Laura sat up on her bed deeply engrossed in an old-looking book.

Hamilton Hall was an old-fashioned but extremely successful girls’ boarding school in Warwickshire, the equal of an exclusive, fee-paying school in England. The main difference between it and its rivals being that it was entirely free to attend. No fees were charged to the girls or their parents, no was any charge made for their boarding or food. Even the strictly-enforced uniform was provided by the school. The lucky girls who attended wanted for nothing and no ethnicity or social background was either over-represented or excluded. While more than two thirds of the pupils did happen to be white, this was far more down to general demographics than any factor in the selection process. Every pupil graduating from the privately-run institution was all but guaranteed a place at any Oxford of Cambridge college they desired, or equivalent university abroad such as those in America’s Ivy League. As such, places at Hamilton Hall were highly sought after and the selection process extremely rigorous. Only the best and the brightest could gain one of the twenty-four coveted places for each new intake.

Although the entry tests had of course been changed and updated many times since the founding of the school, they were always devised according to the philosophy of its founders, Lord Arthur Hamilton and his wife Henriette. This trail-blazing pair believed that true intelligence lay in the ability to solve riddles and situations rather than simply taking in information. They were keen that, unlike other selective schools, it would be impossible for ambitious parents to have their daughters coached to pass their test, favouring by default those families who could afford to hire private tutors. No knowledge per se was required to pass the Hamilton Hall entrance exam, only the ability to think and reason. Any girl who could read and write to a basic level had an equal chance of scoring highly.

Of course along with the great opportunity, high expectations were placed on the pupils with strict academic rigour and even stricter discipline. Not that the school was an unhappy place for its pupils aged eleven to eighteen – rules were strictly enforced but fairly without any attempt to trip the pupils up or emphasise one rule over another at the whim of any given teacher. All the pupils were well aware of every rule and equally aware of the consequences for breaking them. Even the punishments, on the rare occasion they were replied, were fair and designed to fit the crime but, in general, with the girls so well looked after and supported by the staff team, including the teachers who delivered the lessons and the support staff who supervised the residential and leisure aspects of school life, invoking the disciplinary process was a rare event indeed.

“It’s the diary of Arthur Hamilton.” Laura set the book down on her lap and smiled. “Well, the journal he published when he got back from his famous trip. There’s like five copies in the library downstairs!”

“Don’t you know that story already?” Helen laughed. “They tell us every year when there’s new first-years.”

“Yeah they tell us the basic story,” agreed Laura, “but there’s way more in the book than the way they tell it in assembly. It’s got photos too.” She turned the open book around to show her friend, turning it on its side so that the picture would be the right way up. It was a very formal, sepia portrait showing three slightly horse-faced white girls with long, slightly curly brown-looking hair, from pre-teen to late teens. It was not difficult to recognise the trio from the portrait that hung in the dining hall – they were the daughters of Lord and Lady Hamilton. However, the rest of the picture could not have been more different from the familiar painting!

The three girls in this picture were lined up in front of what looked to be the whole tribe from the village on the island where the expedition had taken place, stark naked!

“Wow!” Helen grinned as she looked at the slightly blurry reproduction. “I guess that was just before… you know!” All the girls in the school knew the story of how the Hamilton daughters had agreed to be cooked served at the village’s great annual feast and in exchange, the titled explorer and his wife had been gifted with a lot of gold and precious stones by the people of the village which they had sold upon their return and used some of the money to found the school, investing the rest to leave a legacy of free, top-quality education that was still being enjoyed today.

“Are there any… you know?” Helen blushed a little, embarrassed by her own interest, “After pictures, where they’re cooking?”

“Absolutely!” Laura grinned, flicking through the book to find the relevant pictures. “This is Constance in the stew pot.” She turned the book around to show a picture of the youngest daughter sitting in a large clay pot looking surprisingly happy as various girls and women from the village stood around her adding ingredients and stirring the pot.

“So this was an annual thing?” Helen was intrigued. “Like, every year they’d cook some girls? I guess they were normally ones they’d captured from other tribes or something?”

“Sounds like the different villages used to trade girls with each other most of the time, for eating,” Laura explained, remembering the Victorian explorer’s detailed notes she had just been reading. “Kinda like how noble families around Europe used to marry their sons and daughters to each other for alliances.”

“Makes sense!” Helen nodded.

“But for this one festival,” Laura continued, “they’d cook girls from the village. It was a big deal to be chosen so by cooking the guests, they were giving them the greatest honour they could!”

“Wow!” laughed Helen, sitting down on the edge of her friend’s bed and taking the book from her. “Wonder if the Hamilton girls saw it that way?”

“They’d been there several months by then.” Laura explained. “I guess they’d been kinda talked into it? They look happy enough, don’t you think?” Helen flicked through the book, using her thumb to find the thicker, glossy pages where the photographs were reproduced. There were lots of normal family ones of course, both on their adventures and back home in England, as well as various pictures of the girls growing up from babies. Then of course each had a special close-up of their cooking followed by a group picture of the village and the two adult explorers tucking into the feast.

The middle daughter who, if she remembered correctly, was fourteen at the time was shown roasting on a spit like a pig or deer while the oldest girl, sixteen years old at the time of her death, was shown with her arms above her head with a rope which hung from the branch of a tree. She was missing her left breast and stood next to her was an old man, from the look of his finery the chief or at least a village elder, grinning toothily and holding the severed breast in one hand and a knife in the other.

“All looks kinda intense!” Helen gave a low whistle. “No wonder they don’t go into details when they tell the story in assembly. I guess I always kinda assumed they either all went in a pot like in the cartoons or got butchered before they were cooked. But no, they don’t look upset about it! I wonder what… wait a minute!” She broke off, flicking back a few pages and furrowing her brow. “Who’s that?” She held the book out to Laura.

“Oh!” She chuckled. “That’s another bit they didn’t tell us! It wasn’t just the girls that got eaten. When they first met the tribe they were apparently really suspicious and Hamilton was worried what might happen so, having heard about their local customs, he offered the maid who was travelling with them as a sort of good-will gift!”

The picture that had caught Helen’s eye was of two tribesman standing proudly either side of the headless body of a busty young women, naked of course strung up by her feet like the catch of the day with her hands removed and belly open. The head was on a spike off to one side.

“So they butchered and cooked her and invited the family to join in the meal.” Explained Laura. “And that’s how they, you know, made friends!”

“I’m guessing she didn’t exactly volunteer!” Helen frowned a little, trying to imagine how she would feel in that position. Scared, of course, but also betrayed. Presumably there had been some assumed duty of care when the maid was chosen to travel with them – the idea that her employers would look after her as much as was reasonable, yet they had handed her over to a tribe of savages to be killed, cooked and eaten! Flicking back to earlier pictures she could see the maid in the background of some of the pictures. She was in her early twenties and nothing special to look at but kinda pretty in her own way.

“Can you imagine?” Laura tucked her knees up to her chest and hugged them as she looked thoughtfully towards the window and the beautiful Warwickshire countryside beyond. “You’re on the trip of a life-time with your parents and start making new friends with the locals then suddenly you get asked to let them eat you?”

“Must have been really weird!” Helen shook her head, thumbing through the photos again. “Wonder how many other girls they’d already tasted by then to get them used to the idea? Wish we had their diaries too!”

“Nope, only their dad’s!” Laura reached over and took the book back. “The great hero explorer telling the story the way he wanted it to be known! You know…” She slipped a bookmark between the pages to mark where she’d got to and set the book down on her night-stand. “I wonder if they got so used to eating girls on their trip that they carried on when they got back?”

“Never heard of anything like that.” Helen pondered. “Wouldn’t there be stories about it?”

“Well there’s those graves by the chapel, remember?” Laura reminded her. “Of girls who died here?”

“Yeah but they got sick or had accidents!” Helen pointed out.

“That’s what they tell us!” Laura shrugged. “Who knows? Didn’t you ever notice there’s like fifteen from when the Hamiltons were running the place themselves and only three from after they died? Seems a bit sus to me!”

“What do you want to do?” laughed Helen. “Did them up and look for teeth-marks?” Both girls giggled together. If the philanthropic explorers who founded their school had indeed practised cannibalism in the English countryside, there was no way to prove it now and little point really! The school and it’s current staff were great and that’s all that really mattered!

Twenty-four girls were admitted every year which meant that every year-group consisted of a single class who would take all their lessons together, with everyone coming together in the dining hall at meal-times. The girls slept four to a room, along with others from their own year group and, apart from in very exceptional circumstances, he girls would keep to the same bedroom for their entire time at the school, making it their home for the forty-two weeks of the year that they were there.

Laura and Helen were in their fourth year and shared the room with Charlotte and Emily. Laura had turned fifteen close to the start of the school year and Helen just after Christmas. The other two were still fourteen for another one and three months respectively. With two year-groups above them and three below, the girls all felt comfortably established at the school.

The rooms for each year-group were on their own floor of the residential wing with no particular logic as to which floor was which since whichever floor was vacated by the leaving sixth-formers became the new home of the first-years with each year-group staying put as they were promoted. There were four toilets with tiny basins on each floor and a larger basin in each bedroom but only one bath and shower room on each floor with six baths but enough shower heads for all twenty-four girls in any year to shower at the same time, set out in a communal space like at a swimming pool. This was handy as there was usually only a short amount of time to shower before breakfast or before bed, as was required, although additional showers were permitted throughout the day according to need and spare time, such as after PE lessons.

The baths were available in the evenings or any of the unstructured times outside of school lessons and meal-times but, with only six to each floor, they were strictly first come, first served.

It was a Saturday in early March and the girls were enjoying some free time before dinner where, they had been told, a very important announcement about the school’s bicentennial celebrations was to be made.

When six o’clock came around, all one hundred and forty four pupils and twenty live-in staff congregated in the dining hall. As it was Saturday, uniforms were not required so all the girls were dressed in their casual clothes but still made an effort to look near and smart.

Dinner was wonderful as always and afterwards the girls were all asked to bring their chairs to the front of the hall in front of the stage where the head mistress would address them during assembly. This was a very unusual occurrence and all the girls chattered excitedly as they carried or dragged their chairs into place.

“Good evening, girl!” Mrs Henderson spoke from the lectern on the stage. “Settle down, please!” The pupils all did as they were told and sat quietly, many of them leaning forward expectantly, eager to hear this special announcement. “As you know,” she began with an air of great satisfaction, “in one month’s time we will be celebrating the two hundredth anniversary of the founding of our school by Lord Arthur Hamilton and Lady Hamilton who served as the very first Head Mistress here.” She beamed at the pupils who made suitably admiring noises. “Of course,” she continued, “we mark this event every year but this year, since it is an extra-special occasion, we have decided to mark it in a very special way!” This provoked a lot of excited whispering between the students. “All your parents,” Mrs Henderson continued with a broad smile, clearly very happy about the news she was delivering, “will be invited to a feast to celebrate the founding of the school. But here is the most exciting part.” She leaned forward conspiratorially, as if imparting a secret to the over one hundred and sixty people she was addressing, “to make this occasion extra special, we will be recreating the great feast that Lord and Lady Hamilton enjoyed with the wonderful people who provided the funds to found the school!”

Several long seconds of stunned silence followed this surprise announcement, broken eventually when Kelly, a beautiful black girl in the fifth year who happened to be sitting near the front raised her hand.

“Yes, Kelly?” Mrs Henderson smiled.

“You mean we’re going to put on a play?” the puzzled teen asked, giving voice to the thoughts of many in the room. “About when their daughters got eaten?” She glanced over at the portrait of the three sisters as she said this.

“In a way.” Mrs Henderson smiled. “But we will really be cooking three girls and they will be the meat served at the feast!” She beamed at her pupils clearly thinking she had announced a treat for them like a second Christmas. The hall erupted into surprised and shocked chatter as the girls tried to take in what they had just heard.

“Settle down, girls!” The head mistress called again, tapping with the palm of her hand on the lectern to get their attention and restore order. “This will be a huge honour for the chosen girls,” she insisted, still smiling proudly, “a chance to become part of the school’s rich history! And of course it will be a wonderful experience for the rest of us, something that very few people ever get to experience.”

The pupils all sat silently now, listening to the explanation. Some were horrified, some were thrilled, most were a mixture of the two and all were incredibly intrigued.

“This type of feast is, of course, considered taboo,” continued Mrs Henderson, “and we understand that some of your parents may not want to attend or have you involved. We have therefore written to all of them explaining the plan and inviting them to opt you out, either of the event itself or the selection process. Those whose parents do not allow them to attend will be catered for inside, away from the event in the grounds, but we explained in the letter how important and exciting this event will be and we strongly urged them to allow you to participate in any capacity that might be appropriate.” Several hands shot up now and, guessing that they all had the same question attached, the experienced teacher selected one at random. “Claire?”

“How, umm…” A sweet blonde girl in the second year tried to form her question, finding it incredibly surreal even as she did so. “How are you going to choose who gets cooked?”

“Well we need three for the feast,” she smiled in reply, “to represent the three Hamilton sisters. We will try to pick girls who are close to the age they were when cooked so there will be one from the first or second year, one from the third or fourth and one from the fifth or sixth and they will be cooked in the same way as the equivalent daughter was.” This comment had a particular resonance for Helen and Laura who had spent the hour or so before dinner becoming intimately acquainted with ways the three Hamilton sisters had been cooked. Not only that, but they had been imagining and speculating together about how the girls must have felt when they were told they were going to cook and how they had felt on the day, stood naked in front of the hungry villagers. More than anything, however, they had pondered what being cooked might feel like and now it seemed as if one of them might find out!

“We will be inviting volunteers to put themselves forward,” Mrs Henderson informed the pupils, “but if nobody suitable comes forward, we will choose from among the rest of you. Anyone, of course,” she added, “whose parents haven’t withdrawn them from the process. The final decision will be down to Mr Miller and Miss Smithson.” These were the two extremely skilled and well-qualified cooks hired by the school to run the kitchen and were both well liked by the pupils.

There was even more chatter and giggling that evening as the girls all lined up outside the bathrooms on their respective floors dressed in nothing but their towels. Although the bathrooms were available all the time and girls were free to go and use them whenever they wanted, as long as they were not supposed to be in a lesson or at a meal at the time, at the mandated morning and evening shower times the girls had to line up on the landing to be counted in by one of the adults assigned to supervise their floor and act as surrogate parents – usually these would be a married couple and would share a small apartment on the same floor with its own private facilities. In the case of Laura and Helen’s floor, this was a sweet couple in their early sixties called Langford. Mrs Langford smiled to the girls as she opened the door and began to tick of their names on her clipboard as they passed her. Once inside, the girls hung up their towels on the hooks and found a space in the shower area. Shower gel and shampoo could be had from the dispensers on the wall and personal deodorants, perfumes and creams were kept in the girls’ own rooms.

Normally, she would leave them to it but on this occasion Mrs Langford followed them into the room and was joined after a few minutes by Miss Smithson.

“They’re checking out our meat!” Helen pointed out to Laura when she spotted the two women deep in conversation, looking over occasionally at the wet, soapy girls and occasionally pointing, although it was hard to tell who at.

“Do you think anyone’s actually going to volunteer?” Laura asked, rubbing the foamy shower gel around her firm teen boobs which were a good size for her age. Although they had all been seeing each other naked twice a day for the last three years or so, apart from when they went home for school holidays, all the girls were looking at each other a little differently today – checking out one another’s bodies as potential food and wondering what made a girl suitable for cooking. “Mrs Henderson made it sound like they might just pick people anyway if they don’t think the volunteers are right.”

“I think she just meant they’d do that if nobody in that category comes forward.” Helen frowned thoughtfully as she rubbed shampoo into her thick, red hair. “That’s how I took it anyway. Why?” She grinned. “You thinking of putting yourself forward?”

“Fuck, no!” Laura giggled.

“Aww!” Helen whined teasingly. “But your ass could feed so many!” Laura stuck out her tongue then turned and wiggled her backside her her friend. It was firm and shapely but there was no denying it was big!

“You volunteer then,” she dared the red-head, “if you’re so worried about people going hungry!”

“Maybe I was planning to anyway!” she arched one eyebrow then squirted some shower gel into her hands and began rubbing it all over her athletic young body. She and Laura were about the same height but Helen was definitely the slighter of the two with a toned but almost boyish body and perky young breasts that still did not really require a bra, although she had worn one since she was thirteen. Laura, in contrast, had needed a bra since a month or two before she turned twelve and, while far from chubby, could definitely be described as curvy. The hair between her thick thighs was dark like that on her head and kept nearly trimmed whereas Helen only had a little light tuft on her somewhat childlike vulva.

“Seriously?!” Laura stopped her soaping and asked in shock. “You’re gonna sign up to get cooked and eaten? You know it’s for real, right?”

“Hey, once in a lifetime opportunity and all that!” her friend grinned. “Although the chances of them picking me are probably pretty small when they’ve got forty seven others to choose from. There’s bound to be someone more suitable than me.” She looked quite pointedly at Laura’s ample chest. “But hey, I’ll never know unless I try, eh?” She grinned cheerfully and Laura shook her head in disbelief before chuckling.

“That’s if your parents don’t pull you out first!” she reminded her.

“Good point.” Helen began to lather between her legs, trying to be as business-like about the operation as possible but unable to deny that it felt good. “Do you think many parents will actually let their kids go through with this? I guess if too many block it then it can’t go ahead?”

“Depends how it’s pitched to them, I suppose.” Laura pondered, looking around at the twenty two other naked, soapy girls, most of whom were giggling and chattering in pairs or trios while they washed, just as she and Helen were. It was too noisy really to pick out any individual conversations but she was pretty sure she could guess the most common topic. “Isn’t human flesh supposed to be basically like pork? Might that mean that the Muslim or Jewish girls can’t have any?”

“True!” Helen nodded. “Wonder if that means they’re not allowed to be the piggy either? Oh and Priya’s vegetarian!” She looked over at the lovely Hindu girl with her warm brown skin and long, thick black hair which hung almost to her shapely bottom as she washed it. “I guess that’s her out too?”

“We’ll just have to see, I guess.” Laura shrugged. “Think three girls is going to be enough food for so many people? How much meat do you get from a human anyway?” She wondered out loud.

“I was wondering that.” Helen agreed. “Maybe if they get enough volunteers they’ll cook more than three? Or maybe the girls at the feast are just supposed to be like wedding cake?” Laura looked a little puzzled. “You know?” Helen explained. “Like, everyone gets a little piece so they can say they all shared it in, as part of the ritual, but that’s not what people are expected to fill up on. Maybe there’ll be lots of food and everyone just gets a little piece of girl to be symbolic?”

“Maybe.” Laura nodded. “You know, I don’t like the way Miss Smithson keeps looking over. I’m sure she’s looking at me!”

“I told you she’d want to roast your ass!” Helen teased. “Aww!” She put on a pouty face. “She’s gonna be so sad if you don’t volunteer!”

“Well if you really are then maybe I…” She paused and reflected for a moment. “I’ll think about it.”

Sunday came and went with nothing more being said officially about the feast, although of course there was a lot of chatter among the girls and all the copies of the journal Laura had been reading were quickly taken out of the library. Friends passed them to each other and groups of girls could be found around the building and grounds all pouring over it together. Personal mobile phones were not allowed in the school but some of the girls did receive calls on the various landlines available to them, set to allow incoming calls only, from their parents asking how they felt about the plans and whether or not they wanted them to invoke the opt-out they’d been given.

When Monday morning arrived, the girls were surprised to find a sign-up sheet on the notice board of each landing. By the time Helen and Laura went to look on their way to their morning shower there were already four names on it – Beth, Priya, Naomi and Claire. Helen grinned as she added her name to the list then, to her friend’s shock, wrote Laura’s underneath.

“What the fuck?” Laura half yelled, half laughed. “What are you doing? I said I’d think about it!”

“You’ve had two whole nights and a day in between!” Helen reminded her cheekily. “Just giving you a little nudge, that’s all.” She held the pen out challengingly to the blushing brunette. “Here. Scribble it out if you want, nobody’s seen it yet.” Laura reached for the pen then stopped herself, surprised at how thrilling she was actually finding the idea. “That’s what I thought!” Helen grinned somewhat triumphantly as her friend lowered her arm.

“There’s lots of names and they only want one, right?” Laura reasoned, as much to herself as to Helen. “And they’re picking from the fifth year too. What are the chances of actually getting chosen?”

“With your tits and ass?” Helen teased. “Come on! Let’s go get them nice and clean in case Mr Miller wants to inspect all the volunteers later!” Laura blushed even deeper, realising that her friend was right and the head mistress had said it would be down to both school chefs to select the meat. Still, if she did end up on the menu she’d be naked in front of everyone including parents and siblings of the other girls so maybe letting Mr Miller see her body wasn’t really so terrible. He was a professional after all and would be looking at her as meat. Didn’t that make him a bit like a doctor? She hoped so.

That evening, after their lessons, Laura asked Mrs Langford if she knew what the feedback from the parents had been.

“Off the record,” the sweet lady smiled, “from what I’ve heard, seventeen pupils have been excluded from taking part in any capacity, thirty four are allowed to attend the feast but can’t be chosen for the menu.”

“That doesn’t sound very fair somehow!” Laura frowned, interrupting.

“I know what you mean!” Mrs Langford chuckled. “But on the other hand, there’s eight who we’ve been told can’t attend the feast but can be cooked if they’re chosen!”

“Wow!” laughed Laura. “I guess that’s pretty open-minded! Do you know when they’re going to decide?”

“The lists will stay up another day or two, I think.” The older lady explained. Already there were three more names on the list on their floor and Laura was sure that a few more girls were likely mulling it over before signing their names. “Then there will be a sort of inspection in the kitchen. Did I see your name on the list by the way?”

“Yes.” Laura blushed again. “Helen actually wrote it up but I didn’t take it off.”

“Well we could certainly do a lot worse!” the kindly older woman smiled at the girl.

Over the next two days, Laura finished the library booked and passed it onto another of the girls who was waiting for a copy. On Thursday morning, while the girls were showering, the Head Mistress came into the room with a clipboard.

“Attention please, girls!” She called. Surprised at the interruption, the naked, soapy teens stopped their chatter and washing and turned to look. Some covered themselves with their arms and hands but most did not bother. The communal showering took a bit of getting used to for some of the girls when they joined the first year, with the mandatory sessions marked with much shyness and awkwardness, but by the fourth year as these girls were, they had long ago lost any inhibition. Of course, being naked in the kitchen or outside in the school’s beautiful grounds was another matter but showering together and being watched by female staff as they did so was quite normal.

“If I read out your name, after breakfast I shall expect to see you in the corridor outside the kitchen. Leave your clothes in your rooms and come in your towels.” She read out a list of names, including Laura and Helen. It was, of course, the list of girls who had signed the sheet offering themselves as meat. There were thirteen names in total – just over half the girls in the year-group! “I’m very pleased that so many of you are willing to help make this celebration special! The rest of you, go to your classes as normal. Perhaps some of you would be good enough to make notes for your friends who will not be there?”

“Do we get dressed before breakfast?” asked Beth, a petite blonde with cute little titties and a fully shaved cunt who had been the first to sign up. “And take our clothes off afterwards?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Mrs Henderson smiled. “Just your towels will suffice for modesty while you eat I am sure. The cooks are busy people and we don’t want to take up more of their time than necessary. Plus it would just mean more lesson time missed with more to catch up on for you so no, just come down in your towels. I promise you the heating has been on for a couple of hours.”

Laura felt incredibly self-concious going down to breakfast in next to nothing but Helen seemed to be revelling in it! She relaxed quite a bit, however, when she realised just how many other girls were in the same state of undress. It seemed that roughly half the school had signed up which not only meant that she did not stand out being dressed only in her white towel as she sat and ate her breakfast, it also reduced her chances of being chosen which, she was a little surprised to find, felt like a relief in one way but quite a disappointment in another. Did she really want to be impaled on a spit and roasted naked in front of all her schoolmates and their parents? Then eaten by them? She didn’t think she did yet imagining watching another girl in that position gave her a quite powerful pang of jealousy.

As the breakfast things were cleared away and the girls who were in uniform prepared to go to their classes, trays with small glasses of sweet white wine were brought around and offered to the girls in towels.

“To help you relax.” Laura was told as she took one. The girls were allowed one glass of wine on special occasions at the school and she had enjoyed some at home before with her parents but never so early in the morning! It made her feel warm inside and a little giggly, which was probably the intent.

Soon Laura, Helen and all the other volunteer girls, from the first year up to the sixth in no particular order, lined up in the corridor outside the kitchen. Seventy eight of them in total, lined up in pairs with friends, snaking down the corridor. Laura had more or less got used to walking around in just a towel and was starting to relax but this changed when the door opened and Miss Smithson announced that she would be collecting the towels as they went in! And so the stark naked young girls filed into the kitchen, some strutting proudly, others covering themselves as best they could with their arms and most simply blushing and looking a little sheepish. Mrs Henderson was waiting for them in the large kitchen along with Mr Miller and all the residential house-parents, male and female.

Laura noticed that three large chalk circles had been drawn on the vintage tiles of the floor and their purpose soon became apparent as the girls were asked to group themselves by age ready to be inspected. At first there was a lot of giggling and chatter but they were quickly told to quieten down.

“As you all probably know,” Mr Miller began in a friendly tone once all the girls were in their correct group, “the Hamilton sisters were cooked in three different ways and that is what we are going to recreate. One of you,” he addressed the younger group with their mostly bald, plump pussies and cute little budding titties, “will boil in a stew, one of you,” he turned to the middle group which included Laura and Helen along with many other girls from their year and the one above, “will roast on a spit and one of you,” he addressed the final group of mostly fully-grown young women, “will be set out as a living buffet. Any questions so far?”bLaura’s hand was up before she even really realised what she was doing, as if her body had thought of the question before her brain. “Yes?” The chef turned to her and smiled, welcoming the interaction.

“What about the maid?” she asked, surprising herself with her confident tone.

“What do you mean?” Mrs Henderson asked.

“Well,” Laura explained, “I was reading Lord Hamilton’s journal and it said that they gave the village their maid to eat to establish trust and friendship. So, surely she was just as big a part of the founding of the school as the sisters? Shouldn’t she be represented too?”

“A very good point!” Mrs Henderson agreed and all the other adults were seen the nod and exchanged looks with each other. “That is something we will certainly look into! But for this morning, we are focussing on the girls who will represent the three sisters.” Now Helen’s hand was up. “Helen?” Mrs Henderson turned to her. “You have a question too?”

“Yes, Miss.” Helen replied politely. “I was just thinking that three girls isn’t going to be enough for so many people. There were only about fifty people in that village and they ate the girls all up! Since there’s so many of us who are up for it,” she waved her arm expansively to gesture to all her fellow volunteers, “wouldn’t it make more sense to cook two or even three girls each way? Or more? That way there will be plenty to go around and we’d still be honouring the sisters by recreating their cooking methods?”

Now it was Mr Miller and Mrs Henderson who exchanged meaningful looks.

“I must admit the idea had crossed our minds.” He admitted. “A lot of it will come down to how these inspections go and how many of you we deem suitable for each cooking method. But,” he smiled, “it’s good to know that you’re keen!” Helen giggled as did several of the other girls but more, including Laura, blushed very deeply.

The two cooks divided the work of assessing the potential meat. The group of that Helen and Laura were in was by far the largest so, while Miss Smithson began to inspect the younger girls, looking them over then feeling various parts of their bodies, Mr Miller called the first of the teens forward. The two friends watched in excited fascination as the first girl, who happened to be Priya, was inspected.

“So she can’t eat meat but she can be it?” Helen whispered to Laura. “Makes sense I suppose!”

“Yeah it’s just a pity about her parents.” Laura replied, a little distracted as she watched the chef cupping the pretty Indian girl’s breasts, squeezing slightly and weighing them in his hands, knowing that it would be her turn soon. Having satisfied himself about the standard of her breast meat, he felt her upper arms then asked her to turn around, feeling first her shoulders then her quite delectable rump.

“What do you mean?” asked Helen, equally fascinated. All around them, groups of friends were engaged in low-whispered excited conversation.

“Well if she gets picked, they’re not going to be able to try any, right?” Laura explained. “If they’re vegetarians?”

“Maybe they’d make an exception?” Helen shrugged. “Oh wow!” Priya was facing Mr Miller again with her mouth open, allowing him to examine her teeth. He said something to her the friends could not hear and she nodded then he slipped two fingers inside her clearly moist cunt and squeezed with his thumb from the outside. Apparently satisfied, he pulled them out again and wiped them on his apron then nodded. He made some notes on a clip-board as Priya thanked him and collected a towel from the table where they’d been piled up then left, along with the first of the younger girls who had been equally thoroughly inspected.

Miss Smithson had finished with the youngsters and had just made a start with the oldest girls by the time Helen was called forward. By that time, having seen so many other girls inspected by the dispassionate chef, she knew exactly what to expect so stepped forward constantly and stood with her shoulders back, presenting her modest breasts for inspection. Although she had explored that area fairly thoroughly with her own fingers over recent years, she was still surprised by the feeling of having two adult male fingers pushed up inside her virgin cunt. She gasped a little and her green eyes grew wide but the chef made no comment, just wiping his hand on his apron as he had with all the others and telling her she could go.

Unlike most of the others, however, Helen did not leave the room immediately but rather lingered by the door to watch Laura, who was up next, receive her inspection. It felt to Laura as if he took a little longer over her breasts than he had with most other girls, weighing and squeezing them, feeling them quite thoughtfully all over. But then, she reasoned, she had more in the way of breast meat to inspect than most of the other girls, from her category at least. He felt her arms and belly then asked her to turn around. She did as she was told and, while he gave her shoulders, back, rump and thighs a very thorough going over, she looked at the handful of girls within her circle who were still waiting. Out of the six who looked back at her, smiling and giving encouraging hand-gestures, she noticed that four had completely shaved pussies.

She wondered if they had done it ready for this inspection and all of a sudden felt a little self-conscious about her dark bush. But perhaps it was just what they preferred? None of them were girls she had ever showered with and, while they did sometimes all skinny-dip in the lake in the grounds on especially hot weekend days or sunbathe nude in the parts that could not be easily seen from the school windows, those weren’t generally times when the girls got a good look at each other. She was pretty sure, out of her twenty-four floor-mates only two liked to shave completely like that with most either favouring neat trimming like herself or, like Helen, not having enough yet to worry about. But maybe it was more common than she realised? Either way, she knew she would need to shave that part if she was selected, or have it done for her. After all, she thought with a slight smile turning her lips up at the corners, nobody likes hair in their food!

With her backside extensively squeezed and prodded, she turned back around to face Mr Miller who simply asked if she was ready, not feeling the need to explain what was coming, before slipping his fingers up inside her. She was surprised how far up they went but also how good it felt having them inside her! With his thumb on the outside, he squeezed, clearly wanting to see how thick the meat of her vulva was. He then withdrew his fingers and quickly squeezed her cunt lips together before wiping his fingers and dismissing her. Knowing that she must be blushing very deeply indeed, she grabbed a towel from the table, quickly wrapped it around herself then went to join Helen.

“So what do you think?” Helen giggled, clutching her towel as the pair scampered back upstairs to their room to get dressed in their smart school uniforms. “Are we getting roast Laura for dinner?”

“He did seem to take a liking to my tits!” Laura giggled. “Don’t know if that means he thinks they’d be good eating or he was just treating himself to a good time!”

“Well can you blame him either way?” Helen teased. “Anyway, I thought you didn’t want to get picked!”

“I don’t!” Laura protested although not quite as confidently as she’d thought she might. Was the idea of being cooked and eaten really starting to grow on her? “It’s just nice to be admired! What about you? Think he thought there’d be enough meat on you to be worth bothering with?”

“Hey!” Helen stuck out her tongue. “I got enough where it counts and anyway, quality over quantity!”

“Speaking of quantity,” Laura raised an eyebrow as they reached the bedroom and found Emily, who had been among the volunteers, buttoning up her blouse, “what was that stunt of yours about suggesting needing more meat? You trying to increase your chances?”

“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do!” Helen laughed. “Anyway, you’re the one who suggested a whole new category!”

“Yeah but that’s for an adult!” Laura reminded her. “Maybe one of the teachers or something?” She turned to smile at Emily who had sat down on the edge of her bed to pull on her socks. “How did your inspection go?” She asked. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Yeah it was fun!” Emily giggled. “Felt kinda… daring, y’know?” She grinned. “Being felt up like that! I don’t think I’ve got much chance of being picked, not with these.” She glanced down at her chest. If Helen’s still-growing breasts were petite then Emily’s were practically non-existent – there were first year girls who were bustier than her and, with her blouse on, it was difficult to see she had any at all. “But still, fun to try out, don’t you think?”

I will continue the story if people are interested, I just wanted to post and hopefully get motivated to keep writing it
Mark looked at the note that had been left in his dorm room his first day of college. He had hardly arrived on campus, he certainly hadn’t done anything wrong, yet he had been asked to come to student services, basically the guidance counselor from high school.

Was it about that femboy he had killed? There had been no screaming or public nuisance, although he supposed he had been lazy and leaving the body next to one of the buildings instead of one of the proper disposal options could be considered littering.

He shrugged and knocked on the door. Homeless femboys were uncommon, they were cute and useful, they usually had a home, but what was he supposed to do? Dorm policy clearly stated no pets.

When he got a response, Mark pushed the door open and stepped inside. There was a desk, where a woman in a suit sat going through papers. Kneeling patiently by her side was an adorable femboy. His ‘dingle’ was tiny, and his balls had been removed, and his chest sported tiny budding boobs from the estrogen that government and corporate owned femboys were usually fed in pill form at meals. His curly hair fell nearly to the shoulders and tasteful makeup accentuated beautiful big eyes and plump, soft, dick sucking lips. Actual girls may have become quite rare over the years, but through the miracles of science, many thought femboys had become even prettier.

It helped that they had about as many rights and legal protections as a piece of furniture.

The woman smiled “Good morning Mark, thank you for coming early, I have a full day to keep ahead of.” He took the seat she indicated. “Welcome to Hill University. Have you found everything okay?”

He nodded “Yes ma’am..if this is about the dead femboy, it won’t happen again, I just left him where I figured someone would make use of the body.”

She shook her head “Oh no. We do discourage littering, but there was no report to the school, so that’s probably exactly what happened. Relax, you aren’t in trouble. Mark, are you familiar with our cheerleader program?”

“No ma’am, not really. I know they are all femboys of course, a rotating lineup like all the other schools. Should I know more?”

“Just the bit that matters to you. You see, we have a bit more than one active football cheerleader per football player. And for every cheerleader, we have a waiting list of nearly 100 femboys who have applied, who know the routines, who want nothing more than to dress slutty, cheer on our team, and get fucked silly by the biggest, strongest students in the entire school. It’s extremely competitive.

Making the cheer squad also comes with room and board. Obviously we aren’t going to waste an entire room on even a few femboys. So we give them to the players. Some kill them as new ones come along, some have harems, but each player is entitled to one cheerleader a week, and if they die, then the top name on the waiting list is called up. On that note, this is Sammy. He is your first femboy of the semester and as long as he makes cheer practice, he’s very excited to get his own big strong football player who wants to make Sammy their sweet little bitch. Isn’t that right Sammy?”

The beautiful boy looked at the beefcake in the chair next to him. So much taller than any femboy, nothing soft or delicate about him. It was clear that real, proper testosterone ran through his body. It made him big and strong, large hard muscles rippled under his clothes, and Sammy saw the bulge in his pants. Sammy was nearly drooling as he nodded. “Yes Miss. I want to be a good cheerleader and a good bitch for my handsome football player.” He and Mark both blushed, although Mark hid it better. Not every femboy was a romantic, and it would never stop being so sweet when it was aimed at him.

Mark thanked the administrator for telling him about this exciting perk of making the team before clipping a leash to Sammy’s tasteful black collar and walking him out. The boy kept rubbing his head to Mark’s side, smiling and humming to himself. They reached the dorm room and Mark unhooked him for the pet to have a look around. One drawer in the dresser had been filled with femboy costumes while they were out.

They hadn’t really spoken outside, but as soon as the door closed, Sammy hugged Mark. “Ooh I’m so excited to be your cheerleader and your best toy!” he wiggled with excitement. Mark chuckled and pet him. “So you actually applied for a program where you might be dead and replaced and forgotten in a week?” Sammy shrugged and smiled. “Yes sir! I’m a femboy, any handsome man or lovely woman might dispose of me any day just because I’m small and it’s fun. But cheerleading and being your boy means a lot more. I get to dress up pretty, show off my body and how well I dance. I get to be on TV!! And when I’m not doing all of that, I get to be a maid and slut for one of the hottest, most admired men on the whole campus. Every femboy wants you to do us, and I have the best odds! What’s shortening my life a bit against packing that much living into it?” His big smile never faded a bit.

“Haha, well I guess that makes sense. You mentioned being a maid, I don’t suppose you know how to cook?” Sammy nodded eagerly. “Yes sir! Cook, clean, screw and dance, the four pillars of being a cheerleader, I got good at flirting as a bonus, but those basics are required to even be on the waiting list. If you let me know in the morning, I can have meals hot and waiting for you when you come home.” 5’3, all girly and just so pleased with himself, Mark couldn’t resist a grin.

“Excellent. Well you are obviously free to go to practice, that is your priority. You have a phone?” Sammy pulled out a FemFone, disposable, but colorful and cute, just like him. Mark took it and put his own number in the contacts as ‘Sir’, and pressed the code to have him recognized as the owner. He was assigned a special ringtone, and a call from him could not be declined. It would keep ringing, and after 20 seconds it would start zapping the femboy for attention. After one minute, a ping would scan for life, in case the boy was dead in the street somewhere.

Mark handed Sammy the phone again. “So I’ve been up since before dawn, I think I’ll watch a show and relax.” He walked to the recliner. Sammy followed happily and knelt next to him. “Yes sir….may I worship you, or would that be too distracting?” He blushed, but he really wanted it. Mark shrugged “That’s fine.” To which Sammy just lit up. He kissed Mark’s neck as the real man sat, nuzzling his collarbone, kissing his shirt, lifting it a bit to kiss his owner’s abs. Those soft femboy lips felt nice.

Before long, his shorts had been slid down, and the giddy pet kissed his manhood, a lick along the length, Sammy was trembling with excitement, a whole man, all to himself, what a treat. He started sucking, taking Mark deep into his throat, humming happily as his little tongue worked. Mark decided to play along, gripping the back of his head and holding Sammy down with one hand, pinching his tiny nose with the other. Sammy tensed for a moment, then kept licking and sucking. His movements grew weaker, less coordinated, but there was no struggle, no tiny fists pounding uselessly. If anything, he seemed to just be trying to get the job done.

When he went limp, Mark released the boy, letting him slide to the ground. Sammy was still, until he coughed and opened his eyes. He looked sad, and knelt again, eyes remorseful. “I’m very sorry I couldn’t finish you sir, you should kill me and get a more competent pet.” He didn’t look scared, just guilty, even as his chest heaved for oxygen and his purple face faded to normal.

Mark laughed. “You did fine buddy, it was cute how hard you tried. And you were a very good boy, not resisting. How about you make us some lunch, I’ll let you try again later.”

This is a story i had found and modified almost 5 years ago. I found it again and i am reposting it. For those that remember, I currently have no intention on writing "Tails".

Heads

(loli, shota, hanging, cons)


"Please, can I hang you ?", said 12 year old Johnny to his best friend.

Jenny, being 12 herself, looked at him with wide eyes. "You mean like, all the way?"

"Well yes, I was told girls die very nicely when hanged." He said.

"And I was told boys go even better." Said Jenny with a grin. "I hear they squirt and then they go limp. Tell you what: Why don't we flip a coin?"

"Winner hangs loser all the way?" Johnny smiled.

"Yes! God this is so exciting !" said Jenny.
"You're on!"

Jenny and Johnny were friends for a long time. From time to time they used to play all kinds of games with each other. They were on a bed, wearing casual clothes, doing nothing more than talking. When Johnny popped up that question from nowhere. They both knew they liked the idea of hanging, and they even did some roleplaying that involved air walking with each other, but they made sure nothing went wrong. This time it will be the other way around. Jenny was a tall redhead with nice curves just starting to develop. Her budding tits were just about the size of small oranges and she had nice puffy nipples. The kind that would turn rock hard nicely when hanged. Johnny didn't have to be ashamed either. Tall, a bit tanner, nice slim yet not skinny body, and had an average cock for a boy his age. Both just had the beginings of hair on their sexes. Jenny was already familiar with his cock. If he hanged there would be two limp things dangling, Jenny thought.

"Wow, I can't believe we're doing this. My heart is about to pop out of my chest." Said Jenny while she took a coin from her purse. "But you have to promise me, whatever happens, that we do it, even if it's my head in the noose, and of course ...", and now she had an even bigger grin, "if it's yours."

"Sure, let's get on with it." Said Johnny. "If it is me that has to hang you won't have any problems. I've always wanted to go like this. You'll be doing me a favor. And I wouldn't miss the opportunity to hang you. One thing we leave to the loser - he or she can choose the location and method, but the rest is up to the winner. I have a good idea where I want to hang."

"Done." Said Jenny. "I choose heads - your head in the noose." She giggled.

"Ok, I'll have to take tales." Said Johnny as the coin was flipped. There was a very long silence when the flipped coin was in Jenny's hands. They both looked at each other in a tense way. They both felt a bit choked even though there was nothing around their necks, yet. Then Jenny removed her hand. It was heads.

"I can't believe I won !" said Jenny while jumping almost a whole foot into the air. "I can't believe I get to hang you for real." Then she got a bit more calm and said "Well, you know I still like you very much but I do intend to collect my reward."
Johnny looked at her with a touch of sadness, but with resignation.

"Yes I know," he finally said, "you really should. I was hoping it would be the other way around, but you won't get any trouble from me, and I hope you get that squirt you wanted."

"It looks like I will." Said Jenny looking at Johnny's pants that had a bit of a bulge building in them. "And if your dick won't volunteer to do it by itself, I have a good set of hands. Now strip, slave, and let me see what I won." Johnny did that, which made his erection very visible, and she went on saying : "I will now take a while to slip into my executrix outfit, but just to make sure you don't go anywhere ..." she took some rope, tied Johnny's hands behind him and secured the other end. "I'm not taking any chances on losing that experience."

A while later Jenny came out of her room. No more casual clothes. She wore all black. Her small tits were stuffed in a black latex bra, and she had a black jacket on top. A black skirt with no panties matched it. She had to have access to her cunt because she knew she would need it. Long black heels completed the set, except for the obvious big smile on her face.

She turned to Johnny and said : "The condemned will now choose where and how he will be hanged."
Johnny's cock that went limp when Jenny went away, came springing back up.

"Thanks for reminding me," he said. "I've always liked tree hangings so I want to be hanged on the tree in your garden. It will be a short drop of course. I wouldn't deprive us both of that."

"Very well," said Jenny cheerfully. "I will now do some knitting." She took out a long soft rope, and skillfully made a traditional noose. She took her time enjoying the way Johnny was looking on the rope as she did that. The only thing that diverted her attention was Johnny's erection.

"Have you ever hanged anyone for real before ?" asked Johnny.

"No I didn't." she answered honestly.

"I hope you do it right." He said. "I wouldn't want anything to go wrong."

"Well you don't have a choice. You had to think about that earlier. I'm sure everything will work out perfectly, and I'll make sure I'll ask you if you have any complaints after I finish." As much as Jenny liked Johnny, she was really enjoying herself.

The noose finished, and Jenny showed it to Johnny. She made it dangle in front of his face. He watched it thinking what this piece of rope meant for him, and never was so hard in his short life.

"OK sport. It's hanging time." Said Jenny. she freed Johnny from where he was secured while keeping his hands tied. She took a little wooden box for him to stand on and in a short while they were standing under a branch from which he was about to hang. Jenny threw the noose over the branch and skillfully set it where Johnny's head will be when he's on the box. She secured the other end, and set the box.

"Everything is set. The condemned will now mount the gallows." She said, helping Johnny to climb the box. His eyes showed real fear for the first time now as he looked mesmerized through the loop. Jenny flipped the the noose over his head and tied it around his neck. At that moment Johnny realized he is just something at the end of a cord and that this is how it will stay. He lowered his head for a while. Then he stood tall and said : "Ready when you are, Mistress."

Jenny kicked the box. Johnny just dangled for a while and then started kicking. Most of it were funny swim like thrusting movements, or was he fucking an invisible girl? In any case it made Jenny smile, not to mention dripping. This became a flood when she started to use her hands on her womanhood.

Johnny was starting to make strange gurgling sounds, his face had started going red, and Jenny's fingers were busy in her pussy. Jenny was torn. She loved Johnny very much and didn't want him to die. But seeing him hanging to death in front of her, was making her the wettest she had ever been. Jenny wasn't sure if she should be sad or cum.

“Should I cry or should I let myself cum?” Jenny thought to herself as she fingered her 12 year old pussy. Then Johnny's eyes met Jenny's and it was like he was ordering hee to cum! So much pain and arosul in those eyes, Jenny couldn’t help but cum. She soaked the ground and her hand with her girl cum.

By now Johnny was in full gear as he hung to death. The pain was intense but the pleasure he was feeling was even more so. He knew that this was the way he wanted to go. He wished he could tell Jenny how good it felt. He wished he could have watched Jenny hang. He wished they would've hung a girl first, just so he could've seen someone else hang to death first. Maybe his 9 year old sister? Maybe Jenny's 15 or 6 year old sisters? Maybe his 8 year old brother? Maybe even the 10 year old neighbor girl? But it was to late now.

The ringing in his ears was becoming louder and his vision was beginning to fade. But he still kept kicking. He didn't want to disappoint Jenny. He wanted to squirt for her. He really wanted to tell her to suck him or maybe even fuck him. But the noose made that impossible.

Johnny was kicking more fiercely now. His handsome face was tightened into a grimace, his lips darkening and his skin darkening to red. Drool was pouring down his young, sweaty chest. He jerked his arms behind his back, fighting with all his strength to break the ropes binding his wrists. Jenny knew his soul was willing, but his body, his tween body, it was so scared. It wanted to live! His lungs screamed for air, but he knew they would never get air again.

Jenny couldn’t take it anymore. She kneeled down in front of Johnny and took his 4 inches into her mouch. She heard Johnny moan as she did. Johnny's cock was going crazy in her mouth. This certainly wasn't the first time his cock had been in her mouth but this was different. It was like his cock was vibrating. It had random spasms going through it. Pre-cum was pouring out of it like crazy. His cock was so hot.

Jenny loved the way he tasted. She suddenly had a moment of regret, after this she'd never be able to taste him again. She would miss him and his cock. She'd miss their fucking. She resolved herself to find a new boy as soon as possible. She sucked him even harder. Since this was the last time she'd be able to do so...she need to have him cum in her mouth. God...she needed it so bad. She fingered herself to another orgasm as she sucked him off.

Johnny just had enough sense left to feel Jenny take him into her mouth. It felt so good. His cock was on fire! All Jonny could feel was the noose and his cock in Jenny's mouth.

All of the sudden a giant shiver racked Johnny. His hips pumped once, twice. Jenny thought he was going to cum so she pulled back so just the tip of his cock was in her mouth. Another shiver went threw Johnny, which made his legs kick out and almost hit Jenny. Jenny looked up and looked into Johnny's eyes. Johnny wasn't there anymore. Jenny could see his brain was starting to die. She could see confusion in those red eyes. Jenny could tell he was lost, that he was scared, that he didn’t know why he was even on the rope anymore.

Then she got pushed away from Johnny when he raised his skinny knees to his chest. Johnny kicked down hard, his whole body shuddering. It wasn't long before Johnny sent a nice load of cum into the air, it landing on Jenny's face. She quickly took him back into her mouth. She was rewarded with spurt after hot spurt of Johnny's cum. It was the most he'd ever cum. Obviously it was a big orgasm that was building up for a long time.

It seemed to go on for ever. Jenny did her best and swallowed every bit of Johnny's cum. She didn't want any of it to go to waste. She still had him in her mouth when she felt Johnny's body twitch. Then twitch once again, his legs going into a series of fast little kicks, a tarantella. All of a sudden, the movement stopped; his legs kicked hard once more. Then, suddenly, he went limp and swayed at the end of the rope. Jenny, mouth still on his cock, felt the tenting leave his body. She pulled back, stood up and took a step back.

Johnny started to sway. When he turned around Jenny could see his back and tight, boyish ass, which was quivering slightly were displayed to Jenny. His hands twitched a few times, his bound fingers searching like the legs of a dying insect. Then she heard a hissing sound. Johnny swayed back around and she could see that he was pissing while he still had an erection. It was all to much for her, she came again and she wasn't even fingering herself anymore. She had been so focused on Johnny's last few moments she didn't even notice she had stopped. She came harder then she ever had before. So hard it brought her to her knees in front of Johnny.

Jenny bent down and kissed the tip of Johnny's cock. It tasted like piss and cum. Johnny kicked weakly.

"Still something there. Oh well. I think the fun is over. I'll check later." She said and started to walk into her house. Then she remembered her promise. "Any complaints, Johnny?" she asked but there was no reply. "I told you it would be just fine." And with that she gave one last look at the swaying body, turned away and went.

This story is a guro take on the mobile game Fate/Grand Order. Chapters will be mostly self contained, so feel free to skip around at your leisure, tags and important characters will be listed at the beginning of each chapter. The introductory chapter is largely based on the first chapter of the game, hopefully making it a good introduction for anyone who isn't familiar with F/GO but wants to read anyway, though it is a little low on pornographic merit.

This story as well as all my others are also posted at: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbottwarr

This isn't my story. I got this from the old Gurochan on the WayBack Machine. Enjoy:


The Tour

Part 1 − Visitors


The tour bus stopped right in front of a wide stairway that led directly to the upper floor of the building.
- All right, said Miss Ferris, follow me off the bus, everybody! The visitors’ entrance is right there. Please don’t rush—
Too late. Within seconds the whole 11th grade class was haphazardly filling the central lane, trying to get to the doors first and stretch our legs.
-—out. *sigh*... Kids…

After getting off the bus, our teacher was at last able to get the class back in a semblance of order. She gestured for us to follow her up the stairs and took the lead, tuning out the incessant chattering. We had heard a lot of rumors about this place, so there was plenty of fuel for inane conversation.

Before we reached the door, it was opened from the inside and we were greeted by an employee.
- Hello, and welcome to Litbørd, the town with the most tourist deaths in the world! My name is Sylvia and I’ll be your guide for this tour of the National Entertainment Hanging Center. Follow me, please…

As we stepped into the building, we noticed we were standing on a walkway. Right below us was a room with a few counters on the far side, where a few people were buying something. When the door closed behind us, our guide started explaining:
- This is the entrance hall for customers. They just buy tickets, and with them they’re allowed to proceed through this door on the left. To see what’s on the other side, let’s go through this door on our level.

As we crossed the double doors, the first thing I noticed below was the people undressing. On the right side of the room was another double door, and above it a sign reading “No everyday clothing beyond this door”. Our walkway turned to the right to a door in the same room, but not directly above the one below. I bet they put them like this on purpose so we could see it from here.
Looking further down, I saw several bins at the center of the room, for different types of clothing (white, color, shoes). The walls were lined with benches.

-This is our changing room, continued Sylvia, though “stripping room” would be more appropriate: Most of our customers are hanged in the nude. Only those who know from the start they’re going to die here bring some special clothing for the occasion. Usually something that shows and highlights the chest and crotch rather than hide them. After all, on the gallows, looking sexy is a must. That’s why we forbid people from just going in normal clothing.
Samantha timidly raised her hand.
- Excuse-me, I was wondering… Isn’t the right name for this, you know… “erotic hanging”? What with all the sexiness and all?
Our guide smiled.
- Well, if it were, we wouldn’t be having this conversation because you wouldn’t have been allowed in here! Also, uhm… there would probably be an orgy right below us. But no, it’s not erotic and we limit ourselves to family-friendly entertainment. If we strayed from this path, in addition to kids, we would lose adult clients as well! Few people are willing to abandon their children behind them in the name of short-term fun, and honestly I think the world is better this way.
- Not few enough, sighed Katherine. Her father had left when he learned of her mother’s pregnancy, so I could see what she was coming from.

Miss Ferris broke the awkward silence by clearing her throat, and Sylvia took us to the next room.

It was nothing like the changing room. This one had all its right side covered with a roof, while the left side had a pair of showers followed by a row of sinks.
- There’s not much to explain here, our guide began, it’s just the bathroom. Mandatory of course, we don’t want to stink up the hanging room. Especially as customers are to take a deep breath before hanging. Now, the next room is much more interesting, so let’s--
She was interrupted by a flushing sound below, and an adult woman, who looked to be in her mid-30s, left one of the bathroom stalls for the sinks.
- Let’s go! We can see her go through the process next room over!

She hurried us through the door.

That room had yet another different feel. There was a wall with graduations, not unlike police photo shoots. At its foot was a bigger floor tile that appeared metallic. And to the left, a closed door labeled “hanging room”. Right before it, a square had been delimited on the floor, inside which was written “point of no return”. Oh, and unlike the previous two, this room was staffed. Not everyone there looked friendly: A pair of guys had the distinct presence of security guards.

We saw the woman enter the room and Sylvia narrated as the staff took care of her:
- Two important things happen in this room. The first one is measuring and weighting. This camera takes a picture of you standing on the scale tile against the wall, and it all goes to the computer which calculates the length of the rope, the size of the noose… Coupled with a noose technology we licensed from Dolcett U, it guarantees the blood keeps flowing to the brain, or your money back!
The computer printed a number on a small sticker and an attendant slapped it on the customer’s left foot.
- That's her gallows number, Sylvia explained.
With her sticker, the woman was now led to the “point of no return”. Another attendant approached behind her, holding something that looked like a small belt. However it had a second buckle near the normal one. The woman put her hands behind her back and let him work on them.
Sylvia lowered her voice, like she was speaking in a church:
- That’s the final step, the customer is given her wrist strap. Mandatory for both sexy and safety reasons; it stops you from clawing at the rope and your neck. (raising her voice) Excuse-me ma’am, could you show us… thanks!
The customer looked to us, smiled and turn her back on us, lifting her wrist so we would see better.
- It’s designed so you can safely tie it in an 8-shape, and tighten as necessary to secure your wrists behind your back. But more importantly…
She paused, lifting her finger in a way that was probably dramatic in her mind.

- It’s the actual point of no return! Once the wrist strap is in place, you will be hanged by the neck until dead. No questions, no excuses: After this point, those who get cold feet will be forcefully dragged to their gallows, even kicking and screaming. Thankfully, this almost never happens. And now, let’s see what happens next!
She dramatically pushed the double door, and we stepped into a huge room, our walkway looked so tiny now.

Exactly a hundred gallows were aligned, on ten numbered rows. All were built identically, with a framework supporting a noose and a platform supported by hydraulic cylinders, commanded by a small keypad.

Below us, the woman from the previous room had entered, and reached her row as a family of four was being led to their gallows. When the attendant called for the number identifying the first free gallows, the boy, who looked about 11, kissed his parents and little sister who looked like she wasn't older than 8 years old, and enthusiastically skipped to the platform. The attendant pushed a button on the support beam, taking them both high enough that she could easily slip the noose around his neck. Another button reeled in the slack, allowing her to adjust the noose on his left. After yet another press lowered her half of the platform to the floor, she pulled the numbered sticker off his foot. The last button was a big, red, backlit one, and the attendant theatrically put her hand over it.

As the kid took two deep breaths, Sylvia pointed to a big vertical HD screen on the nearby wall, and typed the gallows number on the keypad next to it. The boy appeared life-sized on the screen, before his half of the platform sunk into the ground in one smooth motion. “As you can see”, Sylvia pointed out, “there is little to no risk of breaking the user’s neck”. Slowly at first, the boy started to feel for the ground, steadily accelerating as the urge to breathe became more and more pressing.

Within fifteen seconds, he was moving at full throttle. Kicking, squirming, it was impossible to take our eyes away from this sight. Looking up, one could see the pain on his face. Looking down, his arousal. Looking up again, his excitation and pleasure became visible. The boy did not want his money back. He was no longer futilely trying to stay alive. Not consciously, at least. The young customer was clearly enjoying his hanging, and trying to reach his peak before he would pass out. The pain itself was now part of the fun. Seeing him hump the air with his feet and toes outstretched was so sexy that only the stern look of our guide was preventing me from sliding my hands down my skirt. When he reached orgasm, all I could feel was intense jealousy. The boy had just come hands-free in front of us while we were forbidden from even touching ourselves.

His dance paused for a one or two seconds before kicking in again. Only this time, it was more desperate, the light in his eyes was gone. The class had gone so quiet that Sylvia’s voice felt like thunder, as she explained that the boy had now lost consciousness. He was now operating purely on reflexes, his body trying to keep him alive while he had stopped caring. Jumping by the sole inertia of his legs to try and get another gasp of air, only for the noose to squeeze tighter. But this quickly drained his last strengths, and he was soon back to weakly feeling for the floor, too tired to do much else. His movement slowed down to faintly moving his feet, and we eased out of our trance.

As Sylvia switched off the screen, I walked back to the railing to see what happened next. His sister had just got up from the bench, and tiptoed shyly towards his corpse to get a closer look. Suddenly his foot twitched, causing her to jump.
- Ah! He’s still alive?
- We like to call this “mostly dead”, explained the attendant. He’ll need a few minutes to finish his death, but don’t worry; he’s got the gallows all for himself for about an hour.

The little girl kissed her big brother’s foot, causing him to twitch again. She giggled, but turned all her attention to the woman as she spoke again:
- What’s sure is that his dance is over: He’s out of breath and out of juice. Which means…
- My turn!, answered her young customer, beaming.
- Exactly. Com—
- Hello! Earth to Kelly!
I was pulled from the spectacle by my comrades. The tour was not over.

After crossing the hanging room, the walkway ran along the far wall and the right one, before returning in the smaller rooms’ section. I could take a few peeks at the girl dancing, but soon reported my attention to a dead man lying on a cart, being wheeled into the door below us.
As the last of us crossed the door, we were greeted by an impatient-looking Silvia. She quickly went back to her cheerful temper and gestured to the room below. It contained several more dead bodies, on various carts a table and a rail going at ceiling level (or well, floor level for us).

- We call this the processing room, but that’s a bit of a misnomer. All we actually do is clean up the bodies, preserve them in cold and donate them to the Life Recycle Foundation, so they can be used in saving lives.
She pointed to a little room that was roofed and closed, like the bathroom stalls.
- The bodies are cleaned in there. We don’t show it because the cleaning is rather thorough, and it’s not pretty. It can also be quite stinky at times.

A body was wheeled next to a table with a machine and a big, translucent cover. Employees transferred the body onto the table, and closed the cover on it. There was a muffled “thunk” and when they lifted the cover again, the head was detached from the body, neck stump charred.
- Oh, we also remove the head, they’re more comfortable with headless bodies. This machine cuts the neck with a very hot blade, it cauterizes to prevent the body from leaking blood everywhere. Then the body goes to a vacuum-sealed bag, and transported along this rail into the Foundation’s freezer truck.
Meanwhile one of the workers took the head and put it on a spiked rack. However, there weren't all that many spikes on it, not nearly enough for a day's customers. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who noticed it, because Kim asked:
- What do they do when there are too many heads for the rack?
- We take a photo of the whole rack and then we throw the heads away, Sylvia explained. Sorry girls! We don’t mount them as trophies or something, unless the client pays extra. In that case we freeze it too and send it to an artisan in town.
The bagged, headless body was soon hung under the rail, and slid past a glass sliding door. It closed before the next door opened, to reduce heat transfers between the room and the freezers.

Our guide gestured for us to continue to our right, and the walkway became a full-on mezzanine above the entry hall. To our right on the wall were counters selling stuff.
- Welcome to our souvenir shop! Here you can buy keychains, pins and stuff, nooses, or have a DVD-R burned with a selection of hanging videos, or even buy a real DVD with a selection of last year’s best hangings. Sometimes we even have a mounted head, courtesy of a customer who paid for it but didn’t provide a sending address.

Several girls rushed to the counters, eager to buy a token of their visit here.
I didn’t plan to buy anything at first, but after watching the boy’s hanging I couldn’t resist. I asked a clerk, who pointed me to a vending machine, not unlike the ones for buying prints of digital photos. I could find the boy and his sister without much difficulty, and the machine spitted a DVD in a paper envelope.

Opposite the souvenir shop was a double door with a big exit sign, and to its right was a stairway leading below. On the left side of the door was one of these big HD screens showing the center’s best last moments. In front of the door, Sylvia was chatting with our teacher. After a few minutes, Ms Ferris called the class forward, as our guide was ready for a closing speech and a bit of Q&A. I didn’t listen to all of it, but I followed the last two questions, because they had quite an effect.
Someone asked where they found their customers.
- Well that’s easy: outside appointments, most of them come from this place! See these stairs? They lead right into the lobby and front desk. Any visitor who wants to be a customer goes down these, or through the elevator over there. The rest simply leaves though the exit behind me, outside is a sloped walkway to the parking.
- How many people choose the hanging? Another voice asked.
- On average, I’d say about a quarter of all visitors. Of course, that’s not an exact rate for groups: sometimes it’s just one or two people out of fifty, but let me tell you this: In the two years since the center opened, never, I say never has a group left the building in full. There’s always at least one person who goes down these stairs, through the rooms I showed you, and enjoy their end in the noose’s embrace.
She let that sink a few seconds before adding:
- On the other hand, the opposite can and did happen, more than once. Sometimes, a whole group chooses the stairs, and all their chauffeur sees of them is a staff member bringing their valuables in a cardboard box. Of course, this hardly happens to fifty random tourists; it’s more likely with groups of thirty or so people who all know each other.
She didn’t need to add “like school classes”: The implication was obvious.

- Well, said Miss Ferris, I guess it’s the time of the big question. I’d like you to form a line, and I’ll ask each—yes?
Sylvia whispered something into her ear.
- Hm you’re right, this may make things faster. Okay, those who want to go for the hanging, please raise your hand.

There was an uncomfortable silence. I guess a lot of girls felt like me, conflicted. On the one hand it was death, but on the other hand it was so intense… I glanced at the screen as someone kicked and thrashed furiously. I could either live a full lifetime without ever feeling this, or experience it once… Obviously I didn’t want to die, but did I want to live more than I wanted to hang? The client on the screen was now unconscious, but still jerking and on the way to a second orgasm... Timidly, I raised my hand.

And noticed I wasn’t alone. I could see a few other hands above us, soon joined by a dozen others. The suicidal choice was not unanimous, I could clearly see Kim keeping her arms crossed, but it was certainly popular. Miss Ferris started counting, but was soon interrupted.
- Let’s make it easier to count, Sylvia said. Those who don’t want to be hanged to death, raise your hand instead!
All hands were lowered, but none came up. I could see Kim raise hers to head level, but she hesitated, and eventually brought it back down. No one had dared raise her hand fully. I guess they were hesitating but just as excited as us, because peer pressure alone can’t make someone do this. I hope.

Miss Ferris simply concluded, “Well, since I don’t have to bring any of you back home, I don’t see any reason not to have fun myself. Class, follow me!”

Part 2 − Customers


A second later, conversations erupted anew as we climbed down the stairs. It was as if we didn’t just all choose to do something that would kill us. Miss Ferris proudly walked to the front desk, talked with the receptionist and announced the tariff for groups of pupils. We formed a line in front of one counter so as not to be in other people’s way, and I prepared my money.

When I reached the counter, the clerk asked me for my name and my parents’ electronic address, and showed me a ziploc bag with a tag. I paid first, then handed my coin purse, watch and cell phone so they could be sent home, plus the DVD I had just bought. As he gave me my ticket, the clerk assured me that my parents would get the video of my hanging for free, and a special offer for the whole class DVD. Thanking him, I walked to the changing room, and a security guy ripped the ticket in half as I entered.

And inside, I found a familiar ambiance. The comments, the giggles… It was just like the swimming pool, except that instead of putting our clothes on basketed coathangers, we tossed them in bins. I caught myself several times wondering where my numbered bracelet was, but quickly forgot it as Ms Ferris called for our attention:
- Girls, I think it’s better to tell you now, I have a slightly bad news: I talked to the center staff, and they told me there is not enough time to hang all of us fully one after another. You know, waiting until each girl stops dancing.
- You mean we will be hanged at the same time?
- Not that either. It’s more, hang a girl, and then hang the next one without waiting, and so on.
- Oh, that means I should go first! suddenly said Vero, raising her hand.
Several voices elevated in protest.
- What? Why you, pray tell?
- Because I’m the swimming champ, and the only one with a chance to still be alive when the last of us is hanged!
- Oh yeah! All the swimmers should go first, then! That way maybe we’ll all be dancing together!
- Very well, Ms Ferris concluded. Vero, you go right behind me. Is everyone ready?
No one said otherwise.
- We’ll leave the washroom in that order then, so we can get the right numbers. Until then, everyone go, and don’t forget to wash your hands!

…As I was drying my hands with a paper towel, I noticed my nipples had become hard. Was it because of the cold, or the anticipation? It was too late to dwell on that, anyway. Ms Ferris was calling us at the exit. She entered the measuring room first, followed by Vero and her two teammates. I went in just after them, followed by Katherine, and didn’t look further behind me.

One by one, we went to have our picture taken by the computer and received our gallows number. I stood there, staring at the camera and CPU to take my mind off my growing anxiety, and received a “Number 72” sticker on my left foot. I was trembling when I stepped into the Point of No Return, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I put my arms behind my back, crossing my wrists. The guy with the wrist strap noticed.
- Hey, are you nervous? he whispered.
- …Yes.
- You worry too much. I’ve been working here a long time. Everything will go smoothly, you’ll see.
As he was talking, I felt the leather tighten against my wrists.
- Could you pull on your arms, as hard as you can?
Time to test the bonds, I guessed. So I pulled. I pulled with all my might, and the strap didn’t let go of my hands.
- That’s perfect. You’re ready to go!
He gave me a gentle nudge, and I walked through the hanging room door. I started walking towards the eighth row, it felt weird with my hands bound. Looking at the numbers, I noticed they were arranged in alternating directions, and numbering started at #00; that way, gallows #68 to #71 were all bunched together on the far end of the row. Ms Ferris and Vero were waiting for us there, on the seventh row, the gallows attendant looking at us with an amused smile.

Most rows after the third were full of hanged people, but ours had the last person hanged before us, whose legs and toes were still moving. We wanted to get a closer look, but the attendant pointed out the camera bolted to the gallows in front of him, and warned us to stay out of its field. We watched the customer’s last moments from afar as the rest of the class joined us. Then our teacher ordered us to sit, and everyone hurried to the benches along the row of gallows. Of course there wasn’t enough room for everyone, and I was reduced to sitting cross-legged on the floor, with the other unlucky girls.
Ms Ferris explained that as our teacher, she would be an exception to what she told us before: We would all get to see her hanged from begin to end. After all, it was her job to teach us by example.

She walked onto the platform at gallows #68 with the attendant. Both rose up so our teacher could get her noose, but only the attendant came back down.
- Don’t forget to breathe deeply, girls. Maintain a steady rhythm so the nice waiters will know when to drop the floor.
These were her last words. Turning them into acts, she took several deep breathes until the platform gave way under her. Under her weight, the rope was now squeezing her neck. As she started kicking, her breasts bounced, more and more as her kicks gained in intensity. She was stretching her tongue out, stretching her legs, even stretching and flexing her toes.

Seeing Ms Ferris like that was hot. I tried to discreetly masturbate, but my wrists were strapped too tight to turn my palms forward. Looking back, I saw that the whole class had the same idea, and most had the same problem. I saw Samantha looking back at me though, and she got up from the bench to sit right behind me.
And by that, I mean close enough behind that I could feel her chest, or lack thereof, against my back.

- Psst! Lift your knees a bit.
I wondered what she had in mind, but complied. At this moment she slid her own legs under mine, and started rubbing my crotch with her right heel. I quickly got the hint and put my fingers to work. Our breath became heavier as we watched our teacher dance, the three of us going more frantic as arousal and panic grew. She was now clearly rubbing her thighs together as she rode an invisible bike. We were at the edge of orgasm when she suddenly arched her back, sticking her tongue out even more as she tried to scream her pleasure. I breathed out as much as I could and held my breath for the home stretch, and managed to come more-or-less silently, emitting a loud gasp instead of a deafening moan, but I heard someone wasn’t that lucky. Fortunately, I felt Samantha’s mouth on my shoulder as she neared her own climax, and knew what was coming next. I steeled myself before she bit me to muffle her voice, and we managed to ride our orgasms without drawing too much attention to ourselves.
And just in time, because Ms Ferris did not continue her dance after passing out. Completely drained, she went limp and the attendant turned to us.

- Dear customers, your teacher told me about your idea, and I support it. I vow to get all twenty-six of you up in the air as fast as possible, but I will need a little help from your end too. You should get under your gallows in advance and start breathing deeply, so I’ll just have to get the noose around your neck and lower the platform. I’d like to have at any time three to five girls ready ahead of me!
We nodded in agreement and Vero advanced towards the attendant, quickly followed by her teammates. As I was next, I took place under my gallows too, still catching my breath. This time the attendant didn’t raise her own half of the platform, instead checking that she was tall enough to work from the ground. That would save time… I shivered with anticipation as she noosed Vero and made a show of waiting as the champion got ready. When she pushed the red button, her attitude changed and she almost jumped to the neighboring gallows, raising half the platform and working as quickly as she could. Less than twenty seconds later, I was wearing the noose, my nipples hard as rock, and took my last breath.

As the platform abandoned me I felt the rope pulling on my neck. It wasn’t all that painful, more of an inconvenience. Initially it was like I could hold my breath forever. But it didn’t last. I soon felt uncomfortable and tried to breathe, and that’s when the panic started: I couldn’t. I started shaking my body, but it only tightened the noose. I couldn’t breathe without some support, and that’s when I started feeling for the platform two feet below. Feeling and kicking. This awoke something in my crotch, some lingering heat slowly rising. It reminded me of why I was there, and the realization hit me: I was going to die, just for fun. And while I wanted it, my body didn’t. While I was enjoying the torrent of contradictory sensations reaching my brain, the distress and pain complementing the excitation and arousal, my body tried to breathe. I was not dancing for the onlookers’ pleasure, my body was dancing for mine.

I was temporarily brought back to reality when I heard the attendant’s clear voice say she had hanged ten of us. I tried to concentrate. She worked fast. She said she could get all of us dancing in less than two minutes and a half, or even “a little over two minutes if everything goes right”. I knew Vero could last much longer underwater, and I could hold my breath that long while doing nothing else, but how long could I keep up while dancing furiously like that? I tried to relax. At least I had a little head-start.
As I was holding on to these thoughts, the fire in my chest and loins intensified. No! I couldn’t. Not yet. I couldn’t stop my legs, but I could force them apart a bit; this lessened the pressure on my girly parts while offering a full view of them to the camera.
My ears started ringing. I could still hear the attendant yell “ten to go!” How much was that, a minute? More? Less? I could feel my legs slowing down. Trying to grow them two feet longer is hard. At least I was not wasting too much energy pulling on my wrists; I guess I knew from before it was hopeless. I tried to find some purchase by grabbing the support beam behind me with my feet; I couldn’t even touch it, but as I brought my legs back down, some stale air wheezed out of my chest. I faintly heard “Five!” over the ringing. Thank god, I was getting really tired. I would probably stop my dance right after my climax like Ms Ferris, hoping I was still conscious when it came. I forced myself to open my eyes, all I could see was some classmates dangling on the few gallows in front of me. “Four!” I pulled my knees up as high as I could, and brought my feet down trying hard to breathe in. I caught a tiny gasp. At least, it sure felt like it. And right after that the rope crushed my throat more; it felt like it was squeezing my tongue out. “Three!” How tantalizing, I could now taste the air but couldn’t get any of it. Seconds were agonizing and exciting at the same time, and my legs were now rubbing together again. “Two!” My arousal climbed and the goal was near, I was fully enjoying myself again.

“One!” I managed to lift my right leg enough to try and rub my thigh against my pussy. A shiver shook my whole body as everything went white. All I could feel now was wave after wave of pleasure coursing through me, lingering on my most sensitive areas. This was it. It was worth everything, the money, the wait, the pain, and the death. I felt, more than I heard, the attendant yell “Zero!” as the last of us started her dance. I ended mine by arching my back, legs bent, toes curled. And then everything faded.

Epilogue − After Closing Time…


Sylvia hung up the phone with a satisfied smile. The video editing service would add for each girl, both her own time and the time since the first was hanged. This class would become a bona fide mass-produced DVD, and the director was contemplating shipping one free of charge to the parents owning a digital copy. The happy tour guide moved to the staff lounge.
- Hey, could you make sure the “employee of the moment” shirt is clean and ready for tomorrow? Since I sold a full group today I’d like to retire on this high—
- DIBS ON THE FIRST GROUP TOMORROW! Several voices interrupted her.
- Hah, that’s not a song often heard. Usually we all but draw straws for it…
- When all we have to show customers are the previous day’s videos, yes. Lots of work to make even a single sale, you know?
- You realize I know that, right? I’ve had to tour the first group a fair number of times, I’ve heard Alice book appointments as early as possible so the first group could see them, and I know an employee celebrating something by hanging sells a lot of tickets.
- Yeah, I’m just messing with you because I’m jealous of your full sale.
- Too bad, because I also know the policy that says I get to give the first group to anyone I want…
Sylvia sat on the table, spreading her legs suggestively, and moved her hand to her shorts’ waistband.
- Anyone up for earning it?

THE END

For Fans of Sarahs epic life, here is a story set in the same universe about a woman named Laura, I intend to work on both stories with my husband, but this one is more of a me kind of thing, here is an excerpt from the story.

It will deal with Scat, NC, Pedo and Torture, and Possibly Severe Snuff. It is much more scat and personal focused. Unlike the relationship between Sarah and Liz, the one between Laura and Tina is non consentual and extreme.

Notice*, while I was comfortable including a scene or two of underage victims in Sarahs epic life without any further disclaimer as few people are batshit insane enough to do what they do, the special nature of this story deserves one more.

1. Real Life Child Abuse deserves the death penalty, I do not believe in any consentual relations between an adult and child, if you will notice I refrain from including much intimate detail about the parts of the kids described in this work, as I still think one can be entertained by the idea of a mother fucking her daughter in literature, but one should still be biologically attracted to someone ones own age or post maturity in real life.

2. Children are our future, and we were all children once, they deserve hope, happiness and time away from the struggles and pains that adults have, leave them innocent and if you are underage, get the fuck off of this forum and think about what your doing to your parents.

3. Despite my heavy anti religious bias in my stories, no one should ever think that it isn't impossible for there to be a higher power. While my husband is Athiest,Ive seen some shit but I still believe in science as its blatently obvious.

4. And most centric to my stories, the world we trying to protray is one where Evil is viewed as Good and vice versa, this story simply exists to entertain our darkest desires and to push past the literary glass wall when it comes to what limits that we can write about, I'd be lying if I didnt use my vibe as I wrote this, as I did, and I do want my readers to get off to my work, but for the sake of humanity, love and help those around you in the real world. I hope that my readers are attracted to Laura and her body, and her "evilness" but not Tina, its hard to explain but, just a hope. I'm writing stuff more against my personal beliefs in this work than I ever have before. I hope that the extreme sex that my and my husbands books protray is what is enthralling, the diving into dispair and laughter at our own mortality, the brief moments when we forget the humanity of others. But never forget, we are all human, and we all only live once.

5.If you do find yourself attracted to children, for the love of god, if you can't bring yourself to get help, both work in a job and live as far away from them as you can so you can live your life free of regret and contribute to society.
Now that that is said, grab your dildos and stroke your cocks, because its going to get wild and DARK and you will see a unique relationship between mother and daughter, hopefully protrayed darker than you ever have before. Evil
=====================================================================================================================================================

Laura had had enough, her husband had left her destitute, she had to figure out a way to keep her house, and to make matters worse, her bratty daughter wouldn't shut up about dinner. Laura was simply tired of it all, and wanted something different. What made her life turn from a living hell into something that she was actually happy about, was something quite unexpected.


About 11 at night, Laura was watching porn in her living room, sure she had the tv turned all the way up, but she made sure that her 4 year old daughter was put to bed before she started watching. On the screen, a wonderfully hot redhead grinded her ass against a younger teenage girl, the teenager couldn't have been of a legal age, but Laura didn't care, her body was hot and she needed to get out her frustrations. Laura focused on the hot bouncing ass on the screen as she grabbed her nearby dildo and began to thrust into herself. Soon Laura closed her eyes in estacy and began to imagine herself in the redheads position, she was half way towards an orgasm when she heard something fall over on the nearby table, she opened up her eyes and saw her daughter, Tina, who had accidentially knocked over Laura's wineglass as she had reached for a toy on the nearby table.

Enraged, Laura grabbed Tina by her wrist and said, "Look at what you did bitch!" Tina took a step back in fear and said, "I'm sawwy mommy." Tina, not caring that she was fully naked or that porn was playing in the background, nearly hit her daughter, but seeing how her daughter cried, it made her pause for a second. Laura then sat down in a huff and sighed.. "Its going to be fine" she told herself "She can't have done it on purpose."

Tina then began to walk back towards her room, but Laura stopped her saying, "Its ok, look you can stay up with mommy and play with your toy in the floor, just let me be ok? You have fun while I have fun? Tina confused, nodded, and then went back and grabbed her toys, before playing with them in the floor. The strange stuff playing on the TV was well above her age, and she didn't know what the people were doing, so she just focused on her toys.

Laura took a second to consider what she was doing, and then shrugged, Tina was too young to understand, and she wanted to watch Tina to make sure that she didn't fuck anything else up. Laura then grabbed her dildo, spread her own legs, and resumed watching the porno.

Laura wasn't a bad looking woman, 25 years old 5'9 with C cup tits, long blonde hair and a round mikly white ass, she was actually proud of her appearance!

The women on the screen had switched to the 69 position, and Lauras eyes grew wide with lust. She thrust the dildo in and out of herself and began to moan. "You ok mommy?" Tina asked. "Yes dear, I'm just having fun." Laura replied as she lifted up a hand to cup her own tits. "Can I have fun too?" Tina asked. Laura laughed and said, "No dear, this is adult only fun." Laura was becoming strangely more aroused by her daughters question, but ignored it and stuck the dildo onto the wall before getting on all fours, and backing her pussy up to the dildo. Laura then thrust backwards and began to fuck the dildo against the wall, her ass cheeks bouncing with each thrust. Laura closed her eyes again, and three minutes later opened them up again, only to see Tina underneath her looking up.

Tina was transfixed and bewildered as to what her mom was doing with her pussy. "Tina stop it!" Laura cried, but she was unable to stop herself from riding back on the dildo, she had no idea what had come over her, but she was just too damn horny!" Tina just sat there watching her mothers body act in a way she never new it could. Laura then finally got up and stopped, but she felt strange, like a haze was clouding her vision, unconciously she grabbed something and began riding it against her pussy, it felt off, and it hurt, but she rode herself to an orgasm then collapsed.

It turns out that mixing drugs before drinking does strange things to the human body, "Who Knew?" But it was an hour later that Laura woke up and felt more refreshed than she had in a long time but she also felt immense pain, Laura looked down and saw little bite marks that had gotten deep into her flesh around and on her pussy. Laura looked down in confusion then saw her daughter, Tina, shying away in the corner. Tina's face was covered in a sticky substance, and Laura took a second to think about what it was, before her hand flew to her mouth.

"Oh my god" Laura exclaimed as the pieces fell into place. But instead of feeling horrified that she had done that to her daughter, drugs or no, Laura felt pissed. The pain in her pussy only got worse, and as the drugs wore off her rage increased. 'TINA!" Laura shouted.

"Yes momma?" Tina said back crying. "COME HERE!" Laura demanded. Meekly Tina walked forward to her mom, before being grabbed and forced almost against Lauras pussy. "See what you did??:"

Tina whined and tried to get away, Instead Laura in a blind Rage forced open Tinas mouth, she was going to grab a nearby pair of pliers when suddenly she felt the urge to piss. Laura almost let go of the pliers before a wicked smile played across her lips and she said to Tina, "Tina, this is what happens when you bite mommas pussy. Laura then squashed the face against her and the couch, using her hand to force open Tinas Mouth, but maintained a firm enough grip that Tina wouldn't run away, and began to piss. Tina coughed and sputtered and tried to spit it back up, but Laura simply smiled and began to play with her own left nipple.

Suddenly Tina was forced to swallow the piss, and Laura nearly orgasmed, it was the purest sound she had ever heard, her piss being drank by her own daughter. In an instant, Lauras outlook on life had changed, a wave of realization washed over her, "I just solved my food budget and sex life all at once!"

A wild energy enveloped Laura as she moaned and kept on pissing, Tina was coughting and sputtering but Laura didn't care, Tinas little stomach grew as the liquid ran from the mothers uretha to the daughters stomach.

Laura finally finished and released her daughter, sighing loudly. Tina in horror thew up and tried to run for the front door, Laura sauntered over to it (causing her tits to bounce wildly) and locked the door. "Tina Tina, Listen, I'm sorry baby, but that is what happens when you piss off mommy, never bite mommys pussy again ok? Next time I need you just to accept it."

Tina wailed but nodded, she realized that this was entirely her fault, and that she needed to be punished, but what did her mom mena by "next time?"

Laura then walked back to the couch and patted the seat next to her, Tina walked carefully over to her mom and sat down next to her.

"What in the fuck am I doing?" an inner voice inside of Laura said, but Laura supressed it by reminding herself, "Taking life and making it my own, and solving my own problems." Together mother and daughter watched 3 pornos in a row, each raunchier than the last, with Laura explaining to Tina everything that was happening on the screen the last one was Lauras favorite, and what she thought of when she remembered how much of a drain Tina was on her food budget. In it, an older woman crouched down ontop of a younger girl of about 17 years of age, and then to Tinas disgust and Lauras delight, fed the girl her shit.

"ewww mommy that is so gross" Tina exclaimed in utter disgust. Laura laughed and said, "Better get used to it, because it is what your having for dinner tomorrow." As the words flew out of her mouth, Lauras hand went back up to her face, she was shocked by what she had just said, Tina looked up at her in horror and Laura said, "I'm sorry tina.... I was just joking..." But deep inside Laura, something broke, and a smile crept up on her lips. Maybe not tomorrow, but shed be damned if she would ever feed tina normal food again once the pantry ran out. The very throught sent electric shockwaves up her spine. Laura knew something vital in her was broken, but she didn't care, she felt stronger than she had in years.

The very thought of her daughters face against her ass, made Laura hot as hell. Tina... Laura said. "yes mom?: "If I give you the entire box of reeces, will you do something for me?" Tina nodded without thinking. Laura then smiled and pointed down at her own pussy. "Lick this for me, and don't stop for the next hour." Tina shook her head no, but Laura wasn't having any of it, Laura grabbed her daughter and forced her head against her pussy. Laura turned up the porn on the TV and revelled in what she was watching. Tina sobbed as she complied with hr mothers request and gave the pussy two tenitive licks.

Realizing that it wasn't so bad, Tina remembered that she loved her mommy, and began to lick as best as she could. It wasn't perfect, but Laura didn't mind, She focused on the bouncing asses and tits that filled the TV, as she held her daughters head firmly in place against her pussy. Two latina women were rimming each other on screen, and Laura began to grind her pussy against the little face infront of her, grabbing onto her daughters golden locks and rutting herself primally against the angelic face.

MMMMPH Her daughter complained, Laura ignored it and began to moan, "Oh god... Oh fuck yeah." She looked down at the squashed little face between her legs and felt another jolt go up her spine. Oh fuck yes!" Laura said, turning her eyes back to the porn, which had switched to the latinas scissoring. "Oh yes eat my pussy you little fuck, eat it, you goddamn fucktoy! Yes... Eat me bitch! Worship my pussy!" Laura removed Tinas head from her pussy and said, "Pray to my pussy like your grandma has you pray to god. "But thats wrong" Tina said, Laura was having none of it and shouted, "pray"

"What should I say momma?" Tina asked. Laura was pissed by the question but gave her daughter a start "Oh clit, thank you for letting me lick you, thank you pussy for bringing me into the world just so I could become my moms sextoy" Tina laughed at her mom and said, "that's silly mommy" "SAY IT!" Laura asked, filling her darkest desires. Tina nodded and said the prayer. "Now repeat it as I ride your face, over and over" Laura said as she loered Tinas head back to her pussy.

:Laura similed as between licks Tina would pray into her pussy, which sent shivers up her spine" It gave her a wicked idea for a tatoo that she could do, and as religion was just a means of manipulation, she chickled about her daughter building a shrine to her ass... that would be simply devine. With the right upbringing, she could make it happen too. Tinas licks intensified, and Laura arched her back in lust, thrusting her tits forward. "Oh PWSSSSSYYY " Tinas muffled prayers served their purpose and made Laura hornier. "Oh fuck yes, worship my pussy you worthless slut! My pussy is worth more than you, you only exist to give me pleasure, WORSHIP IT!"

Laura realized that ever keeping her kid in school, or even out of the house wasnt goign to be an option anymore, but it didn't matter, she had so many plans for Tina and most of them involved her own ass.

On that day a new Laura was born, and Tina was renamed unofficially to sextoy and soon, Tinas new name would only be Toilet....


Later that night, Tina learned what her new role was to be, Laura had stripped off all of her clothes and had set up a specialized restraint on her bed, that was set up in a way to hold tinas head, on either side were pillows for Lauras legs (so they wouldn't tire out, and pillows at the head of the bed for Laura to lie on once she got tired. She had turned off the lights and lit scented candles, which flickered off of the marble walls, Laura was horny and she had the perfect solution in her household.

Tina, come here darling! Laura called out as she surveyed her ass in the rather cheap yet clean mirror. Each glorious cheek was without blemish, and perfectly round and firm. Tina arrived in the bedroom and saw her naked mother, after doing a double take, Tina meekly walked inside and said, "Yes?"

"time for bed Tina... Laura said as she patted the area where the restraint was. "I can't sleep like that mommy!" Tina objected. "Sure you can!" Laura laughed as she lifted Tina up by her arm into the air and then forced her down onto the bed. Tina fought with all of her might but was unable to overcome her increasingly horny mother, a sweet smell filled the air and made Tinas nostrils twitch as Lauras pussy began to gush at the thought of the fun ahead of her tonight.

The bedsprings groaned as Laura tightened the strap around Tinas head, and as she climbed onto the bed, positing her pussy right above Tinas face. "Mommy NO! STOP MOMM--" Tinas cries were cut off by Lauras hot pussy as it made contact with Tinas face, Laura then giggled at how much fun she was having, and began to ride Tinas face. Tinas terrified tears made for excellent lube for Lauras pussy, and the bed springs began to sing.

It took only five minutes for Laura to begin speaking aloud, and moaning to her sextoy, "Oh fuck yes, You worthless bitch, you damn sextoy, oh fuck yeah, make my pussy cum.. oh fuck yeah..." Laura rode faster and harder, causing her tits to slap together and sway from side to side as she bounced up and down as hard as she could on the face below, occassionaly Tina would struggle to breathe, but it didn't matter, Tina wasn't human anymore, by all rights she was Lauras sextoy, and that is all she was good for in Lauras eyes. After about fifty minutes Laura orgasmed so much that Tina couldn't swallow it all, and it spilled onto the nearby bed. Laura slapped Tina for the mess but kept on riding her toy.

If anyone was viewing from the right angle, they would have seen Lauras buttocks bounce and clap together as Lauras legs moved up and down, and heard the slapping noise as Lauras pussy slapped against her daughters face, and would have been incredibly aroused by the sight. Tinas vision was fileld with dripping Labial folds, the pink holes leading to her mothers uretha and vagina, and on rare occasion, something in the rear that smelled much more rancid.

Laura then grabbed a nearby vibrator and then flipped around, to where Tina got a terrifying view of Lauras sexy ass. "MOMMY STOP NO PLEASE GOD NO--" Tinas cries were cut off as Lauras buttcheeks wrapped around Tinas tiny face, and Laura began to grind her ass up and down her sextoys face Lauras cheeks parted and slapped back together as she rode *it*, Tina was no longer a her anymore. The bedsprings groaned louder than ever before as Laura arched her back and thrust the vibe into her pussy. Laura licked her lips and grabbed one of her tits as she rubbed her ass in a circular motion around Tinas face, every time she massaged her own clit, then each time she Thrust the dildo inside of her, she would side down Tinas face in an up down up down motion. "Mmmmmmmooohhhhh" Laura bit her lip and began to sweat as she intensified her sex.

Tinas sobs were cut off by the sound of Lauras ass cheeks slapping against Tinas face, the arousing music filled the entire bedroom and adjacent hallway.... "MUSIC!" thats whats missing! Laura said as she sighed and temporarily got off of her sextoy. She grabbed her favorite music CD and put it in to play, and soon Nellies "Its getting hot in here" began to play, Laura remounted her sextoy hard, nearly breaking Tinas nose, and resumed grinding her ass against it. Midway through the song Lauras anus was pressed against Tinas nose, when Laura suddenly farted, loud. Tina retched but Laura was so turned on by it she pinched her left nipple and said, "Oh fuck that was so damn hot. Smell my ass you stupid bitch!" The side of the matress and floor below the bed was drenched in Tinas juices. Laura felt an orgasm building, and she used her legs to lift her ass off of Tinas head, she grabbed a nearby O-ring gag and quickly shoved it in Tinas mouth, before she remounted her toy. Tinas crying was getting Laura more aroused than she had ever been in her life, and it was simply heaven to Laura. She felt powerful, she felt free, and best of all, she was having the best sex of her life.

A loud rumbling sound came from Lauras stomach and she sighed happily, sweat dripping from her tits onto her stomach, Laura then laughed and farted directly into Tinas mouth. "Phwfffffftt" Tinas cheeks swelled as the noxious gas filled her mouth, she had no choice but to try to swallow it, choking, Tina instead breathed it in, but felt like vomiting. Lauras ass bounced again as Laura followed it up with another fart, with a hint of something sickly sticky splattering into the back of Tinas mouth.

Tina retched, but tonight wasn't the night she became Lauras full toilet, no, that was to be for later.

Laura resumed playing with her pussy while grinding her ass against her toy, and continued for the next two hours...

Two days later....

"Oh yes I think that is the perfect location for the next cli--" Laura paused for a moment as the licking between her legs intensified, she wasn't upse,t she was just unprepared for the speed. "Client, sorry dropped my cig" she laughed to the realtor on the phone.

Laura had been researching working from home and had finally arrived at a point to where she was comfortable that she could still make a living, while enjoying her sextoy 24/7. It was only two days ago that she had started, but it felt like a lifetime ago, she had sworn off clothes as long as she was home,. And had donated all of Tinas clothes to goodwill, she had bought a shock collar off of the internet which carried a near lethal voltage, and had strapped it to Tinas neck, tina had unsucessfully tried to escape three times, but each time the collar had nearly shocked her unconcious, and she had awoken next to her mothers pussy.

Tinas new routine included 8 hours a day of pussy licking, with a thirty minute break in the middle, so her mom could take a piss. Tonight Laura intended to introduce her sextoy to her backside and see if that worked out as well as she hoped that it did.

Tina had wined only three hours into her first "shift" today, but Laura quickly remidied that by shocking Tina four times in a row then holding her against her pussy until Tina got the hint and started going back to town on her mother.

"No we can reschedule to tuesday...:: Laura said as she forced the girls head up and down her pussy, rutting against the sextoys nose. "Yep, Tell George that I expect the paperwork emailed to me by tonight... Ok thanks!" Laura hung up and let out a contented sigh.

Tina still got three square meals a day, but sure enough according to Lauras promise, each time one of Tinas food items was eaten, it wasn't restocked.

Laura then pushed Tinas head away, walked over to a nearby counter and grabbed a specialized bdsm device that she had special ordered last night and had arrived this afternoon, and then looked it over twice. "Whats that mommy?" Tina asked as Laura looked it over. "Something that will greatly enhance my day."

This is a story I wrote several years ago. I rescued from the old Gurochan and wanted to share it here. Unfortunately I no longer have the ambition to finish it and honestly have no intention to. I may do finish it one day, but I wouldn't count on it.


Ol' McJohnny had a Farm

(loli, straight shota)


Part1:

12 year old Jenny was on her way to Johnny's family farm to play with his 9 year old sister Cindy. Cindy and Jenny had been friends for many years and it was Jenny's idea for Cindy to lose her virginity to Johnny a year ago. Since then, there playdates always involved Johnny and sex, so Jenny was excited as always. Her little pussy started to tingle at the thought of another 3 way with Johnny and Cindy, Jenny started running down the road.

Jenny finally made it to Johnny's house, as she was walking up the path she saw a note on the door. Jenny grabbed it and read it:
“Jenny,
Johnny and I are out back in the barn playing Farmer! I just learned about farms and animals in school. I came up with a great game for us to play!
Cindy”

Jenny laughed and rolled her eyes. Little Cindy was always coming up with new “games” for them to play. Over the past year they had gotten progressively more sexy and dangerous. Not that Jenny minded. So she pocketed the note and began her walk to the barn. When she got inside she looked around and couldn't see Johnny or Cindy. She did see their clothes in a big pile. Jenny laughed and began to quickly undress. She was going to call out for them, when she heard Cindy.

“Oh, god Johnny!! Fuck your little chicken...fuck my little cunny” Cindy half moaned half yelled. Jenny quickly finished stripping. Jenny had just started to develop. Her breasts were finally starting to grow, but they were more nipple than breast. She had a light patch of peach fuzz above her pussy, which she was quite proud of. She was also very proud of her ass, it was the perfect bubble butt. Jenny noticed she was so wet now, it was starting to run down the inside of her thighs. Jenny quickly finished stripping and ram into the next room, eager to join in on the fun.

Jenny entered the next room and couldn't believe the scene in front of her. Johnny was naked of course and so was Cindy. That wasn't what caught Jenny's eye, what did was that Cindy had chicken feathers on her ass and had her face painted like a chicken. Or at least what was left of the paint, it was all smeared and running.

“Fuck I'm going to cum!!” Johnny moaned as he fucked his little sister.

“Do it Johnny. Cum in me. I need to make eggs!!” Cindy moaned back as her body shock and Johnny continued to fuck her. Jenny was slightly confused but she didn't have a chance to ask what was going on before Johnny interrupted her.

“Oh CINDY!!!!” Johnny yelled as he slammed his 12 year old dick into his sister as hard as he could. Jenny could tell he was cumming by the way his cute ass quivered.

“OOOOHHHH, GOD IT SO WARM!!” Cindy cried out as her body shook with as she came too. Johnny slowly pulled out of his sister, his little cock still hard and cum flowed out of Cindy’s freshly fucked pussy. Johnny laid down next to Cindy, both of them still coming down and breathing heavily. Jenny laid down next to Cindy and noticed they were both asleep. Cindy’s body was all covered in sweat, her tiny little nipples were hard as diamonds. Jenny reached down Cindy’s young body until she found her pussy. Johnny's cum was leaking out of it still, so Jenny got as much of it on her fingers as she could, brought her hand up and smeared the mess on Cindy’s nipples. Jenny licked her hand clean, she loved the taste of Johnny's cum and it was mixed with Cindy’s cum made it taste all that much better. Jenny started sucking and licking the mess she made off of Cindy’s chest. Making sure to pay extra attention to Cindy’s nipples. Jenny was getting so turned on, she uses on hand to play with her pussy.

After a few minutes Cindy began to stir. Cindy started moaning and cupped Jenny's head in her hands. Cindy opened her eyes and said “Hi Jenny. When did you get here?”

“Oh I've only been here for a little bit” Jenny replied. “I saw you two fucking and I didn't want to interrupt. So what's this new game?”

Both girls sat up and gave each other a passionate kiss.

“Oh, you'll love it! Cindy said. “You know how I've been learning about farms and farm animals?”

“Yea” Jenny answered.

“Well I just learned what the farmer does when animals get to old or don't produce anymore. Do you know? Do you? Do you?” Cindy said to Jenny, bouncing up and down on her butt.

“Well duh, useless animals are killed. Everybody knows that!” Jenny said, rolling her eyes playfully at Cindy. “I don't get what that has to do with us?”

“Well” Cindy said, standing up and turning around. “I'm a chicken” Cindy says as she bends over. Jenny can see that the chicken feathers are attached to a butt plug that's in Cindy’s ass. Jenny also sees Cindy’s red and puffy pussy. It's still dripping cum, so Jenny leans in and gives it a lick.

“ahhh” Cindy moans as Jenny's lick sends shivers all through out Cindy’s body.

“I'm sorry, I couldn’t resist” Jenny says, pulling back from Cindy as strands of cum still connect the two girls.

“It's ok, where was I?” Cindy asked.

“You're a chicken” Jenny said.

“Oh yea. I'm a chicken and I've been trying to lay eggs for a few days now. Johnny has been fucking me as often as he can but still no eggs. If I don't lay eggs by the time he wakes up, I'm going to be a useless animal and you know what that means!” Cindy winks and draws her finger across her throat.

“Wait, Johnny is going to kill you because you haven't laid any eggs? Whose idea was that? Jenny asked, very confused now.

“Yupp and it was mine” Cindy answered. “After all, it's only fair. I wanted to play farm. I chose to be a chicken. I didn't know I wasn't going to be able to lay eggs. It's what happens to chickens that don't. Johnny has been a great farmer to me and it's not fair to him.”

Jenny just sat there. She was so confused. Here was Cindy casually telling her that she was going to have her own brother kill her because she couldn't lay eggs. Jenny didn't know how to feel, she just stared at Cindy.

“Hello? Earth to Jenny!” Cindy said while waving her hand in front of Jenny's face.

“Oh, I'm sorry” apologized Jenny “What did you say?”

Cindy just rolled her eyes, “I said, did you want to play too? You know, be an animal with me?”

“um….I uh….I mean...I'm not sure” Jenny stammered. Jenny had always been turned on when she watched her dad kill animals on her own farm. She's touch herself in bed thinking about it. She had wondered for a long time what it would be like to be an animal being killed. Just thinking about it made her puffy nipples begin to harden.

“oh” Cindy laughed, noticing Jenny's hardening nipples. “It looks like you like the idea!”

“Ok” Jenny answered. “I will play, but I don't want to be a chicken.”

“What do you want to be?” Cindy asked.

“I want to be a dairy cow!” Jenny replied, almost yelling.

Laughing Cindy says “Why a cow?”

“Because I've always wanted to try out that milking, suction thingy on my bobs and because I think I'll have no problem producing milk!” Jenny said, laughing as well.

“What happens if you can't? Cindy asked.

“Then I guess I'll have to get put down!” said Jenny. Just saying that made Jenny feel odd. Of course she didn't want to be killed, but at the same time….she'd be lying to herself is she said the idea of being killed like a farm animal didn't excite her.

“That's great!” Cindy said jumping to her feet in joy. “Come on, let's go get our newest cow cleaned up!” With that Cindy took Jenny by the hand and led her to the next room.

Jenny's head was awash with different thoughts and emotions. She didn't know what was going to happen or if she was even if she was going to live to see tomorrow. But whatever was going to happen, Jenny was confident she was going to enjoy it.

even at the age of 19, I firmly decided that if I remained stable in depression until the age of 25, I would be ready to commit crimes, isolate myself from reality.
and now, the fateful spring has come.
after a May shift, monotonous and lonely work in college, I jumped on a date with the first hero of my cycle of tragedies the size of fifty kopecks. I persuaded the boy to go to the meeting under the pretext that I had walked in the area many times and each time it was the best meetings in my life. not that I exaggerated too much...
jesus glue was playing in my ears, it felt very romantic. I came out of the passage of the metro station N. on a bench under the shadows sat a guy about 28 years old. a little thick-skinned, but lanky. the skin of the face was flabby and coney from combing. but the facial features were pretty, he reminded me of a chubby mouse. and glasses. my favorite "chicken blindness". he was an engineer by training. he worked at a construction site as a draftsman. yes, it will be a pity for his customers. and for the first few seconds of the meeting, I felt sorry for him, too. as a remnant of my human feelings of the past. but it passed as soon as he looked past me and slowly stood up. I began to feel small drops of anger hurrying to seep through my lymph nodes. short, shorter than jumping into the closing doors of the car hug. Well, yes, it's me, damn it, and what did you expect, you pneumatic bastard? I smiled awkwardly, as if it didn't bother me. each time I hate their every breath more and more.
- so, well, lead me, I didn't specify the route specifically.
a banal, boring interrogation began. the most banal, boring reactions of surprise and admiration followed. the voice of reason in my head was hysterical: "stop it, I know how it will end if I don't kill you today." we went into an unnamed coffee shop. there are almost no people, he grinned from embarrassment. he was obviously ashamed of me in front of the staff, he shot his eyes at the walls and interiors. scum. I'll squeeze your carotid arteries, I'll tell you everything, you'll get high on the track. I looked at his hair falling over his forehead. beautiful. light brown. this is my favorite color, the structure of both girls and boys. a phantom hand reaches out to stroke them, like the fur of a stray cat. to pull and tear to bloody wounds.
Well, I'll refresh myself and let's go. he ordered dessert, savored it for an hour, as if our conversation was interesting to him and he did not want to shorten it by too forced a walk. I ate a regular salad. my fists were already itching extremely. I stood up.
- are you full? Let's go to the toilet?
- and? I'll wait for you here, don't worry.
I smiled with a strong squint. she touched her shoulder.
- yes, I know, I want to tell you something, not in public.
he jerked. but he was somehow clearly uncomfortable to tell me too categorically: "no, you're disgusting, you have a dirty purulent mouth, I don't want my imperial dick to be in it." he got up carefully and we went. I continued to hold the guy by the forearm with great tension and fear, to be honest, inside. he gave up, took me by the wrist, looked at my frail figure a couple of times, relaxed a little and thought, "well... isn't it bad?" yes. terrible! I dug the blade in my pocket deeper into my palm. we leaked into the men's room. happiness, lots of partitions. not enough nasty sounds. almost school silence. he was confused at first, rushed to the urinals, then walked on, hobbled to the wall like a robot.
- was there such a thing before?
- ... no. but it's interesting...
I leaned my body back against the cat and yanked the ball at him. he pressed himself against the tile.
- hey, hey, not so powerful! well, did you really like me so much?!
- of course! look at you.
I pointed my small Scythian chin at the mirror. there was a young guy who was a little too fast, tired of the emptiness of the spirit, who was obviously very bored with me and he begged me with his eyes to leave. Hell no!
picking up a piece of metal with my little finger, I waved a shaking hand at the four-eyed guy somewhere down on the tendons so that he would fall off. and yes, he blundered. and he screamed as if a herd of mammoths had danced around the hall. I immediately poked him in the teeth.
- shut up, you cat!
I immediately slashed at his hands, so that he wouldn't wave them, but only jerked convulsively. the instantaneous generation of snot on his muzzle struck me. his eyes shone so wonderfully with tears, and his lips were filled with blood, as if he had eaten cherries. I myself shed tears of emotion, grabbed his blond neck, pressed it to his shoulder, turning it sideways, leaned on his trapezoid muscles with my thin elbows and kissed him hard, already the gums ached. I am rarely pleased with the first kiss. it's a sanction. but I kissed it myself, and all-powerful, because the effect was different. the endorphins intoxicated me. music poured out. the muscles of the throat spun. the guy kept trying to twitch, but I leaned on him. I tried to put on more things and heavier. and I asked him to dress warmly, the idiot. she took out a mallet from her bag. and then she started pounding on his temples like a rubber bunny from machine guns. he was squinting and somehow making faces, my engineer.
- I wonder, do you work with such things? I bet an aluminum bar would be more fun and melodious, but it's heavy, damn. I wouldn't have reported it.
he seemed to be nodding affirmatively at this and it was funny to me.
- if you only knew how disgusting and desirable you are to me at the same time. well, you all love me very much... leave it completely without sex. my strength is gone, it would be nice to stop fucking by the age of 30, but they haven't even started yet! and I and my family's children have been wanting for 5 years. imagine what a torment, in hell they don't offend like that! I have health, I can give birth, but fathers are not called. only some stupid assholes like you stick out of their holes. bored? that's right!
I smacked him in the chest. by the way, he is still trying or relatively recently tried to keep fit. some protein-fed figure is clearly there. I got under his bomber jacket, cotton T-shirt. Mmm, it's warm, what a whim. Finally, I had the right to get to him and embrace him with all my small breasts. I started crawling over his body as if he was some kind of dismembered piece of meat, and I was kneading him before passing him through a meat grinder, thinking about whether I would have time to finish reading the methodology for tomorrow's tests while the cutlets were being fried. but since this was the first experience of an attack, I was emotionally involved as much as possible, tactile, mentally. the draftsman has already fallen into unconsciousness. sludge was oozing out of his head. I kissed his little face and almost closed eyes once more while he wriggled around with a nailed snake. it's time to move on to actions of a sexual nature. of course, I did not expect that in a semi-conscious functional state, genitals can plow not only in porn, but it was. my virgin hand reached out to the penis and after two minutes of chaotic kneading of the plasticine and savoring my role, I successfully lifted his penis. this paint was terribly exciting, how it swelled. I wanted to eat my fill in case I was caught quickly. I took the bolt with two fingers and licked the head from the base, along the contour of the urethra. I heard a groan. licked the head like milk.
the guy was already flinching not only from pain. he even stretched his legs, which were cut, please note. the penis was already very full, like a pear. it's all very strange. some kind of masochist, that's why I love guys from polytechnic institutes. I sucked at the top of my lungs. I wasn't afraid to bite. the taste was almost neutral, but there was a feeling of fullness in my mouth, as if I was shoveling dinner into myself with spoons. in parallel, I was screwing myself. I felt that I was already impatient to shove this stupid dummy deeper into myself, like a handful of coins in a small Irish pot. but, of course, I paid too much attention to my soaking. tore off the incel stigma. although this is not very honest, but Ryan Gosling robbed banks and killed bandits for the sake of the future, so I am for science. I certainly liked the act of rape. it was better than I expected, as if sex is what it should be. in general, a sexually valid guy is a half-dead guy. so we'll write it down for the future... I caught my breath, stretched, pulled out a big knife. it's time to pile in here in full. I used to allow it only with my body, it's still full of scars from all sides of my arms and legs, now it's possible to spread body art, because I've already inflicted cuts no worse than a tattoo artist drawing. it turned out to be an ornate, bloody, literally shiny from toilet lamps, bush. the scar will rock. I definitely opened a couple of veins. something was whipping at my feet. involuntarily, I remembered the used pads on the first menstrual day. detached from the fontanel. I touched this character a little more, stroked him on the back on the staff. I got up, kicked the moron on the exhale, shouting how they fucked me up to the depths of my soul. with a confident voice, like I'm broadcasting an academic webinar. then a minute of silence... I mourned the hard worker a little. or yourself and your worthlessness. well, or it's a shock reaction, unexpectedly unexpected. That's it for now. she dragged the boy to the corner so that the first one who entered wouldn't accidentally get a heart attack. I changed my clothes, put the dirty stuff in a garbage bag, performed ablution and quietly left.

I wanted to revive an old thread of a similar theme from the old GC.

Anything goes as long as it involves young shotas getting killed and potentially fucked by females, or the other way around if you prefer.

Feel free to contribute.

---

Five little boys crowded around Momo, visibly excided for their chance to have sex with the foxy redhead. All of them were naked, slightly plump with baby fat, and sprouting big healthy erections at the sight of their impromptu lover.

Crooking a finger at the nearest kid, Momo spread her legs and exposed her dripping sex to the room full of schoolboys. The student she’d selected – a peppy youngster with shaggy brown hair and an impressively thick cock – stumbled forward, breaths coming heavy and fast as he eagerly lined himself up with the redhead’s increasingly slick cunt.

A girlish moan escaped the boy’s lips as he thrust his hips forward, pressing his full length into the woman in one shaky motion. Momo’s sex squelched and clenched as the child’s throbbing shaft penetrated it, forcing another breathless sound of pleasure from the little boy.

The other students watched with mounting arousal as their classmate enthusiastically mated with a woman twice his age. One of them, a shy blond boy with an even bigger erection than the first kid, started stroking himself off at the sight.

Most of the boys were so preoccupied with the perverse display that they didn’t notice Momo reaching for a newly sharpened machete half-hidden under her discarded top. She pulled the weapon free, disguising the action with a buck of her hips and an exaggerated moan.
The sudden display of pleasure from his partner coaxed the brunette dangerously close to the edge, his hips rocking faster as he felt a hot, pressurized chill run through his pumping boycock.

Distracted by the rapidly approaching orgasm, he didn’t even see the blade connect.

In one deft motion, Momo dropped her right leg and slashed the little boy’s head clean off, splattering his classmates with blood and sending his clueless head spinning into the air.

Rolling her hips back into position, Momo caught the boy’s head by the hair and casually bifurcated the masturbating blond’s cranium on the backswing.

The classroom went silent.

The three remaining children watched in horrified fascination as blood violently fountained from the now-headless little boy, his confused horny body continuing to thrust unsteadily as his painfully erect dick began to ooze ropes of slimy boycum. The decapitated kid kept humping for maybe fifteen or twenty seconds, bubbling off-white sperm jetting from his erection in a morbid parallel to the hot blood spurting and sloshing from the boy’s gory truncated neck.

Abruptly the boy’s body stopped, going rigid for a moment as if finally realizing it had been beheaded. A wet gurgle-like noise bubbled up from the schoolboy’s exposed throat hole, at which point his legs finally gave out, sending the little corpse to the floor in a tangle of twitching prepubescent limbs.

Meanwhile, the masturbating blond had gone stiff the moment his head was cut in half. He shuddered and wobbled, little moans and grunts escaping as his hand occasionally gave his still-hard cock an instinctual jerk. Each twitching motion coaxed out a little splurt of watery precum, which drooled down his bobbing shaft in long bubbly streams.

The top half of the boy’s head slowly slid from its resting place, making a drawn-out schlorp as it finally dropped free, exposing a squirting cross section of ruined kiddy brain. A few seconds later, the half headless kid dropped like a rock, landing next to the corpse of the fully headless boy – which was still dumbly thrashing around in a mockery of pleasure.

Momo licked her lips at the remaining students, most of whom were still fully erect. The woman’s eyes sparkled as she idly rubbed her freshly used slit with one hand and massaged one plump breast with the other. Despite the obvious shock on the boys’ faces, they didn’t run or scream. In fact, when Momo beckoned another young boy over, he obliged with even more enthusiasm than his former classmate.

This story was inspired by the amazing poster for the godawful 1987 movie R.O.T.O.R.

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0098156/mediaviewer/rm3496186881/

It contains neck breaking, debreasting, beheading, amputation (legs and pussy), and death by blunt trauma.


The Meat Machines

“The meat machines are here,” Debbie said, pointing at the entryway of the food court.

Charlotte perked up, turning away from her latte to look.

There were two of them, long and lean, encased in black leather with gleaming black motorcycle helmets.

“Why do you think they make them look like sexy policeman strippers?” Debbie mused, poking at her French fries. “And who do you think they’re here for?”

“Who gives a shit?” Charlotte muttered. “I hope it’s me. Damn fertility bomb.”

Charlotte had seven sisters and fifteen nieces, of whom two sisters and six nieces were still alive – a fairly normal situation in the post-war world.

Debbie laughed. “I bet it’s Brittany. She’s always taking stupid risks.”

The black-clad robots walked silently through the crowd. Out of the dozens of people in the food court, there were perhaps five males, each the center of a little flock of girls. Charlotte glared at them.

“It’s so unfair,” she said. “Boys are such trash but every time one of them looks at my I get all fluttery and hot. I don’t even know if it’s me, or . . .”

Debbie nodded sympathetically. “I know, babe. But you might as well just roll with it. Nothing we can do about our genetics, right?”

“At least we taste good,” Charlotte said fatalistically. She prodded the steak sandwich she was eating. “I wonder if I knew her?”

Sighing, she took a bite.

“A little tough. Maybe it’s Mrs. Randolph and she’ll never give me a D again.”

“We should be so lucky. Check your receipt, they usually tell you –”

A gloved hand settled on Debbie’s shoulder and she froze.

“Deborah Paige Pallard?” a cool, artificial voice said.

“Y-yes?” she squeaked.

“Based on surveillance camera footage you have been convicted in absentia of the crime of jaywalking and sentenced to immediate conversion.”

Debbie barely had time to process before the robot gripped her by the throat and pushed her backwards until she was lying flat on the food court table, her fries falling to the floor.

Charlotte leaned over the table, resting her head on her hand. “That used to just be a demerit, I guess it was changed to full conversion.”

Debbie couldn’t respond. The robot had her tightly by the neck, cutting off most of her air, as it quickly and efficiently ripped her clothes off.

“Prepare for scanning.”

The brunette was instinctively struggling, trying to break the thing’s hold on her throat, trying to keep her thighs together. Charlotte smiled slightly. It was always the same. She knew that as soon as the robot got Debbie’s legs open . . .

There it was. The little slut was glistening wet.

“Can’t beat genetics,” Charlotte sighed. It was annoying to know it would be the same with her when it was her turn.

The robot reached to his hip and grabbed an implement that looked like a nightstick. Debbie didn’t even try to close her legs again, just gave a croaking moan as the machine slid the scanner inside her. Charlotte could hear the faint sizzling sounds and see Debbie jerking as the device jolted her, sending signals through her body to determine her fitness as food.

“Grade B,” the robot announced. “I will now initiate the conversion.”

Letting Debbie’s throat go, it took a firm hold of her hair and, as she sucked in a breath, triggered a button on the scanner.

Debbie’s breath left her in a long, shuddery moan as the scanner zapped her clit with a precisely modulated shock guaranteed to produce an almost instant orgasm. As she jerked and twitched in the throes of her final climax, the robot took her head in both hands.

“Grade B isn’t so bad,” Charlotte said, resisting the urge to pat her friend on the head. She’d seen more than a few girls get handsy with convicted meat and accidentally trigger the meat machines’ ‘Interference With Conversion’ protocols. The punishments for interference or resistance were significantly more brutal than normal conversions. Among other things, they didn’t bother grading you, which meant less money for your family, and you certainly didn’t get a last orgasm.

Debbie gurgled something in response, her eyes glassy with primal fear and weird lust, and the robot started to turn her head slowly, inexorably, to the side.

The brunette’s feet kicked uncontrollably, her fists drumming on the tabletop, her eyes locked on Charlotte’s, and then there was a loud SNAP! and she was gone. Her body was still jerking randomly, but Debbie was gone.

“Conversion complete,” the robot said, and picking the body up almost tenderly, carried her over to the nearest meat chute. Debbie’s mortal remains would go to one of the food court restaurants and the profits shared between the government and her family.

Charlotte glanced around. The second robot was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, where’s your friend?” she asked the robot that had converted Debbie.

“My companion unit is attempting to carry out a conversion on Francine Miles West,” it responded. “Do not interfere with this conversion or you will suffer severe penalties.”

Charlotte gulped, her eyes flicking to the butcher knife strapped to the thing’s right thigh. “No problem, man.”

‘Attempting’ – that meant that Francine, whoever she was, was making herself difficult to find.

“Stupid bitch.”

Charlotte had little sympathy for the girls who made things hard on the authorities. It always ended the same way, and if you pushed things too far you would get your family in trouble. One of her schoolmates had actually managed to cripple a meat machine while resisting conversion, and where had that gotten her?

It had gotten her a front-row seat at a show where her mother had been forced to put all five of the dumb girl’s sisters to death in different ways before she and her mother had been slowly fed to a meat grinder together. Not exactly a pleasant way to go, although it had been awfully interesting to watch.

The meat machine looked up, its helmet whirring as its cameras focused.

Charlotte followed its gaze. A pretty, long-legged Japanese girl was bolting through the crowd, sobbing as she tried to outpace the robot following her.

“Holy shit, it’s Frankie!” Charlotte laughed. Strait-laced, uptight Frankie who almost never took part in the normal sexual activities at their school. Charlotte could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen Frankie getting plowed in the cafeteria or eating someone out in the girls’ bathroom. “I wonder what she did?”

“She has been convicted in absentia of the crime of assault and battery and sentenced to immediate conversion,” the robot next to her answered as it moved to intercept the fugitive.

With both of them there, it didn’t take long. Frankie tried to dodge around the second robot, but slipped on the floor, and the one behind her grabbed her by the waistband of her tight jean shorts and jerked her backwards.

“I didn’t even hit the bitch!” Frankie screamed hysterically. “I just wanted to scare her!”

Oh. So that was what this was about. Charlotte could almost laugh. Frankie had thrown an eraser at the late Debbie as a joke, but the all-seeing cameras and the mysterious algorithms that controlled the meat machines often had a difficult time understanding nuance.

A cynic might suspect that, post-fertility bomb, the ‘accidents’ were intentional to cull the exploding female populace and replace the meat once provided by the practically extinct animals that used to be raised for the purpose.

Frankie didn’t have a lot of time to ponder the possibilities as the meat machines calmly stripped her completely naked, pulling her shorts down her lean, kicking legs and simply tearing off her shirt and panties, leaving her in just her sneakers.

“Francine Miles West, for the crime of resisting conversion, you have been remotely sentenced to a nonstandard execution and the forfeiture of the familial share of your meat value,” one of the robots said.

“Wait! I’ll cooperate!” she said, standing nude and shivering between the two machines.

“Probably just wants the conversion orgasm,” a stacked blonde laughed. Frankie glared daggers at her.

Then, suddenly, she lunged forward and grabbed the blonde by the hair, pulling her forwards.

“Let me go, you cunt!” the blonde squealed, lashing out, her little fists hitting the lean, fit Frankie with no visible effect.

Seconds later, robotic hands had gripped Frankie and dragged her away. The blonde stood panting, quivering, her cheeks red with anger.

“Jenny Rae Smith, for the crime of interference with conversion by striking the subject, you have been remotely sentenced to a nonstandard execution. Due to extenuating circumstances the familial share of your meat value is not forfeit,” the other robot intoned.

By the time the blonde had realized what it said, it had already gripped her sundress and pulled it off her lush body in one movement.

She pulled in a breath to try and scream, but the robot planted its fist in her solar plexus and she bent over, retching as it dragged her to a table and forced her to her knees, her bountiful breasts resting on the smooth surface.

The robot hoisted a cleaver high. “Phase one: Debreasting.”

Jenny Rae stared in shock as the cleaver swung down through her field of vision in a gleaming curve. She didn’t even feel the pain at first as it cut through her right breast like butter, and when the red shock of it hit, the blade was already lifting and coming down again.

Between one breath and the next, both of her magnificent boobs had been sliced completely off her chest to lie bleeding on the table. Blood dripped from the wounds where they used to be attached to her, flowing in rivulets down her belly and thighs. Her mouth hung open, her eyes wide and blank, unable to understand what had happened to her.

“Phase two: Beheading.”

Gripping her blonde hair, the robot lifted her until her feet were dangling off the floor, her sandals slipping off as she kicked and whimpered. Placing the cleaver carefully on the table, it pulled out its butcher knife and held it to her throat.

The machine gave her a few seconds to consider what was about to happen to her, the suddenness with which her carefree, happily slutty life had been converted into a meat animal’s agonizing death, and then it began to cut.

Jenny Rae gurgled and struggled as the sharp blade parted the tissues of her throat, sending blood spurting all over the robot and some of the onlookers. Her fingers gripped the machine’s arms, trying futilely to hold it back, her toes curling as she wriggled helplessly.

The robot took its time. It wasn’t capable of enjoying her pathetic fight, the sad little sounds of a girl who knows she doesn’t have a chance of stopping the thing that’s killing her, but it was programmed to be something of a showman.

Even so, the deed didn’t take long, and soon with the wet snapping sound of breaking bone, it was done and Jenny Rae Smith’s body dropped to the ground, leaving her head dangling from the robot’s hand by her long blonde hair.

Her petty revenge for Jenny Rae’s petty insult seemed to have given Frankie a certain degree of satisfaction, and she seemed almost at peace with her fate until she felt the sting of a hypo on her left buttock, followed by the right, and she knew what was going to happen to her.

There was only one thing the meat machines used injections for, and that was to slow down blood loss.

The thing’s next words confirmed her fear: “Phase one: Amputation of legs.”

The robot lifted her up and slammed her hard against a table, knocking the breath out of her, and held her down with a hand pressing between her small breasts as the second robot held her legs tightly. It pulled out a deadly-looking surgical saw and placed it to Frankie’s quivering right thigh.

Her pretty, pale skin parted easily under the tiny teeth of the saw, revealing lovely red meat beneath the thin layer of subcutaneous fat, and Charlotte could hear the sound of licking lips even over Frankie’s appalled screams.

The chemical cocktail keeping her from bleeding out apparently wasn’t a painkiller – or maybe it was simply the horror of that saw slicing back and forth, inexorably separating the long, slender legs she’d been so proud of from her body. Maybe it was both. But those pitiful wails were reaching into Charlotte’s head and sending quivery little shockwaves through her body.

Without realizing it, she was rubbing herself through the front of her thin dress. When she noticed, she blushed, but didn’t stop.

The sawing slowed when the robot reached the bone, but it made short work of even that and turned to Frankie’s left leg. Her screams had died down into babbling protests, but they didn’t stop the machine as it started to cut away her remaining leg.

The crowd had gotten quiet, and there were definite wet sounds from several regions – either girls getting themselves off, or boys that had found a willing young lady to suck them off or screw as they watched.

Frankie didn’t have the presence of mind left to realize how much her classmates and other fellow teenagers were enjoying her slow death, but her eyes focused on the sight of the robot raising her two severed legs and tossing them aside.

Then it lifted its hand, and she could see the filleting knife glistening in the bright mall lights.

“Phase two: Vaginectomy.”

Frankie managed to pull herself together enough for one long, terrified shriek as the robot set the tip of the knife next to her sopping wet pussy and pushed in.

The blade went in cleanly, quickly, slicing through flesh and meat like it wasn’t even there, and there seemed to be an air of satisfaction in the robot’s motions as it cut. The filleting knife moved smoothly, in and out, down and around, circumnavigating Frankie’s delicate little cunt without a pause.

Charlotte gasped, rubbing herself faster, hunching forward in her seat. She could hear the sounds of the crowd getting off, the choking as girls struggled to swallow loads of cum from the boys using their mouths, the kittenish whimpers of Frankie as the meat machine kept cutting.

She was very, very close, and when the robot finally stopped, gripped Frankie’s pussy firmly, and tore it out of her body, her orgasm hit and she let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Her whole body was shaking from the tension and release, and she only dimly heard the machine say “Phase three: death by blunt trauma.”

It lifted Frankie up by back of her head, easy now that her legs had been amputated. Charlotte saw her eyes moving randomly, indicating that she was still alive even if she wasn’t exactly aware. Then the robot stepped next to one of the big food court pillars, ignoring the moaning girl getting plowed against it, and slammed Frankie’s forehead against the stone.

There was a crunching sound. The robot pulled its hand back and repeated the motion, bashing Frankie’s face into the hard surface over and over, crunches replaced by cracking sounds, blood coating the pillar where the machine was beating Frankie’s life out.

Her arms jerked ineffectually, slowing, until finally they were only flopping with the robot’s movements.

When they stopped, the thing pulled Frankie away from the pillar and turned her to reveal the absolute destruction it had made of her once-pretty face.

Her left eye twitched once and stilled forever, and Charlotte came again.

The meat machines took Frankie and Jenny Rae to the body chutes and walked, quickly and quietly, out of the mall. Workers appeared to clean up the mess left by the bloody deaths of the two converted teens.

“I should come back tomorrow and see if I get some of Debbie,” Charlotte said to no one.

No use regretting anything. It would be her turn sooner or later.

Here we go again...

I am Aoi Hikari and I mostly write consensual and casual guro with underage characters. My favorite theme is when sex and death are just innocent children's games, and it doesn't even need to include actual sex or be sexual for the characters.
Most of my works are fanfiction on established characters, mostly Ayanami Rei, Kinomoto Sakura and the Kagamine twins (if you can consider the twins established, as for the sake of my stories they're mostly established in my own work Innocence).

You can find my works in both English and Russian on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoi_Hikari
Recently I've also uploaded my English works to pixiv: https://www.pixiv.net/en/users/12229410

Life for an Eye (M/f, free use, dytopia, butchering, beating)

Beatrice presented her ID to the clerk -- a mid 20s lady with a pixie cut -- and was given a nod and a smile, and maybe a "go ahead" but Bea wasn't too sure. It was routine, and had begun to lose all meaning. She'd been a volunteer for two years at this point, ever since she left college. She never finished her degree, and was left with a fair bit of debt -- a surmountable debt, but debt.

Debt, for Beatrice, or for anyone with a hole between the legs, meant volunteering one day a week at a local stress relief center. There was little room to those who couldn't earn their keep, who took more than they gave. The world was starving, Bea knew this, and understood her position. But it was just a little debt. She'd known others who had worked their way out of more. She could give a day of her week until she paid it off.

Then a year ago, she didn't look both ways before running a red light and she was consequently pulled over. She sucked her way out of having her head scattered across the windshield, but was fined. More debt. A new threshold, and now she wasn't allowed to wear tops of any fashion -- no shirts, no dresses, no brassieres. She also lost her right to report people for molesting her.

It was odd at first. For one, the cold. She had underestimated how much a simple cotton tee did to break the wind or cover from a chill, but she got used to it. For two, changing how she carried her purse. Before, she always wore it across the shoulder and over her chest, cradling the bag between her waist and arm. With a bare chest, though, Bea found no matter what kind of material the bag was made out of, she could always feel it, so she swapped to simply hanging it on her shoulder. The catcalling and groping weren't new, they were at least 12 years old, nearly half her life ago. They simply increased in frequency.

Bea sat her bag down in her cubby and turned to May, a young, ample (and bare) chested brunette who was in the process of untying her sneakers.

"How'd you do on your test?" Bea sat next to her on the bench and began to unlace her platform shoes.

The girl let her sneaker hit the floor and raised her leg to pull off her sock. "Ninety four!"

Bea stopped what she was doing and beamed at her. "Knew you could do it." She raised an open palm.

May met it with her own, and let it fall into a hand-hold. "Thanks." Bea looked down at her. "For teaching me."

Bea let go of her hand and returned to yanking off her boot, and then began to undo her other boot. "You just needed someone to point you in the right direction. That score, May," she tapped the brunette's forehead. "That's all you."

"Still wouldn't have done as well without'cha," May said as she let her other sneaker and sock drop. The teenager stood up and slid her skirt, leggings and panties to the floor, and stepped out of them, revealing long slender legs and developing hips. She gathered her clothes and began to stuff them in her locker.

Bea simply shrugged. Bea wasn't Aristotle, she was no great tutor, furthermore she never even finished college. Someone, many people, were probably better for the job as far as she was concerned. She finished yanking off her boots and socks and began to undo her jeans.

"You can take a thank you, you know."

"I can?" Bea looked at her pupil with a cocked eyebrow as her jeans dropped below her plump cunt ample thighs and hit the floor with an inaudible thud. She smirked. "Anytime, May. I'm always here to help." (edited)

"So, what'cha reading today?" May asked as Bea began to gather her clothes.

Bea placed her jeans in the locker after folding them and placed her thong on top of them, then her boots on top of that. She then grabbed a small black hardcover book out of her purse, and held it up. "Group Theory." She closed her locker and clamped the lock shut.

The two began to walk to their stations, passing by several nude girls getting prepared for the workday, some hoisting themselves up onto the seat and leaning back. Some bend over bars, Some sit on their knees. Most also have books or devices, something to take up their downtime, should they be so lucky.

"Well, it's the study of symmetries, essentially. Like, for example, a blank piece of paper and a button are symmetrical, but they're symmetrical in different ways."

"I guess. What for?" May looked at her blankly.

Bea shrugged. "I dunno. The book was cheap."

May found her station and bent over a bar, and waved goodbye to Bea as she made her way to a bar across the room between a scrawny blonde in her early teens playing on a purple-screened phone and an Asian woman in her late teens watching a movie. Bea had certainly met the Asian before, but she couldn't remember her name for the life of her. This annoyed her, but only a little. Bea bent over the bar and opened the book.

Soon enough, the day began. She heard it begin before she felt it. Soft moans, subdued grunts, squirming struggles, the occasional scream. Bea came to know it as ambience. It was perhaps thirty minutes before she had her first customer, and another twenty before she had another. The younger girls usually stayed busy all day. An unfortunate fact of life, Bea knew, is that men were simply eager for a young cunt. Sometimes too eager. Sometimes too young. That said, she didn't mind being left mostly in peace. Though, when the teen next to her began to have a line form behind her, usually those in line would settle for Bea. She was usually bored with them.

This was common. Most of the girls working here weren't slaves. As long as they pay off their debt in time. Being a living fuckhole eight hours a day isn't a career that most girls dream of, and most men understand that, though maybe half respect it. Those who don't are willing to wait until the object of their affection or ire (sometimes both, men were strange creatures like that) fail to pay their debt, which Bea had seen more often than not. The exchange was usually transactional. Some girls liked smalltalk and would chat it up with customers. Most men didn't say things that interested Bea, though.

Bea found herself lost in the black and white sketch of a world of matrixes and equations and allowed herself to be immersed. She had wished she had brought a pen so she could attempt to sketch the shapes and operations. The author asked her to consider the symmetry of her own body, and she mused about her own uneven breasts. Her immersion broke when the lunch rush came -- it was all hands on deck for the lunch rush -- she had found herself being jackhammered by a young upstart businessman who had to bust as fast as possible. It was like reading on the bus when it got to the pothole-ridden street near her shitty apartment.

But it didn't take long. Then it was back to the medium-slow paced thrusting of guys who could spend a little more of their lunch taking a load off. She resumed her reading, but lost her train of thought. That was the worst part of the job.

"Miss," began a low grumbling, twanging voice. "Couldja flip over?"

Bea obliged, standing up and choosing to lean back on the bar spreadeagle and expose herself to him. She didn't take her eyes off the book. She didn't notice to roughness of his hands at first as he grabbed onto her hip. He began to rough with her breasts, which caused her to squirm a little. His grip intensified on her hips. She felt him force his cock in her cunt as he grabbed her throat.

Bea looked up at him, and held the book in her hand to the side. He fucked her rough. Fucked her hard. She got a good look at him; he was a man in his later forties, greasy, sweaty, laden in a drenched tshirt. He smelled of dirt and oil. His face was rough and ugly in a very conventional way. He snarled at her like a hog.

"That's right. Look at me, bitchmeat. You're old enough to know better." His grip tightened.

Bea tried to look around, hoping someone might come to help her. She panicked under him. She kicked, she got out squeaks in a scream with no result. She began to thrash as her vision went black. She began to wave her arms frantically and she threw the book at him. She took a new breath a moment later as he fell back.

Bea immediately hit the ground and staggered back. She caught her breath as she recoiled. The man was cradling his eye. He took his hand away and tried to open his eye -- she had hit it spot on. It was dented in the socket. He let out a mighty roar and began to rush towards her, fist bawled with blood, dirt, sweat, and optical fluid.

Her head hit the ground, then she felt the sting of his punch on her cheek. She let out a scream as his fist impacted the same spot again, as he used his weight to hold her down. She coughed. She spit. It was red, she felt something loose in her mouth. Her jaw was in pain. Bea closed her eyes in a fearful, but peaceful trance. There was nothing she could do. He was going to beat her to death. Bea was certain.

Bea felt her body decompress as the man was lifted off of her. She sat still and dazed. She thought nothing. Her ears slowly detected a fading in ringing, which gave way to ambient air. She looked up to see the man talking to the white-polo'd staff that ran the stress relief center.

"You think I don't need my goddamned eyes to see?" He fumed and raved at them.

"We understand, sir."

"So what're you gonna do to make it right?" He leaned into the staff, his broken eye giving a monstrous look. (edited)

"We'll pay for a new set of eyes. Whatever model you want, we'll cover it." They responded matter-of-factly.

"And her?"

The staff looked to Bea. She began to regain her bearings, began to understand what was about to happen.

"We'll make sure she's taken care of."

She began to sob out of pain and fear. The staff came and lifted her up, grabbed her by the forearm. She almost tripped over the book. They led her past him. She didn't look at his face again.

"Stupid fuckhole. I hope they flay you alive." His words travelled up her spine and stayed in her mind.

They took her out of the side door, into a white hallway. Her sobbing began to slow to whimpers.

"He." She swallowed deeply and coughed. It was harder to talk now than she thought. "He was gonna."

"Hush, dear." Said the staff member, a white polo'd young blonde man in his early 20s. "Lay on the table."

Bea needed his help to get there. He helped. She simply lay there and let the pain radiate out. She felt a needle enter her wrist. She felt stillness crawl up her arm and take her over. She felt herself still as she became a prisoner in her own body, unable to act.

Sharpness invaded her heel. Then another in her second heel. She was indebted, she attacked him. That was all it took. She knew that. Despite what he may have thought, she wasn't stupid. She knew that too. She began to see her legs above her in the air, and then she felt her body flip suddenly as she hung upside down, her weight tearing at her heels due to the hooks. She was terrified, but what was the point anymore? She couldn't move, she was going to be slaughtered. Nothing to do but think and agonize about it.

Think. Bea refused fear; with nothing left to do, she let her mind wander back into the land of symmetry and matrixes and shapes. She considered the symmetry of her body. This boy, in a moment, was going to stick her throat and split her abdomen into two equal halves, break up her meat until she is reduced to nothing. She tried to think about breaking herself into her constituent parts and finding their symmetry too. She feels a blade enter and leave her throat before she can finish the thought. Fear overtook her, though Bea couldn't help it. That's life.

The boy held her head up with a fist full of her black hair. When the drain of her blood slowed and she became still, he sawed off her head. Her beauty had been greatly tarnished by the man's savage beating. A shame, the boy thought. He set the head aside, and got to work opening her abdomen and gutting her. A cum filled womb, liver, heart, lungs, stomach, intestines, pancreas, the boy spends a few minutes emptying her abdominal cavity into a small plastic bucket.

The headless corpse is laid onto the table once more, and the boy takes to a cleaver as he breaks Beatrice into pieces. Her feet set aside, her calves sliced to strips, her thighs to steaks. Her hands set aside, her arms into cutlets, her breasts and ribmeat separated. Her belly to bacon. The last of her body was quartered. All that remained was much needed food for the world, wrought from one who had taken too much.

"You were supposed to bring her in alive." Vulture store blankly at a dark, blood caked hole drilled through the forehead of her delivery.

"She is alive." Guerilla was still holding up his catch by the head with a heavy-duty mechanical 3rd arm. The catch, Plum, side eyed the giant carrying her while displaying as much disgust as was possible on her cherubic, chubby face. Despite the blacklit blood streaming down from the hole in the center of her forehead, over the bridge of her nose and past gummy, bubblegum pink lips, she sputtered to life and groaned in a staticky voice.

"Get f-f-fucking... off me..." Her entire face flexed in glitchy, sputtering flashes of anger when she stuttered. Her hands scratched at the mechanical wrist above her head with clumsy, de-clawed swipes.

"Fuck, really?" Vulture uncrossed her arms. "Well she's not going to stay alive if you keep fucking manhandling her. Give me that." She snapped her gaudy black and neon green respirator off her chin and over her mouth before standing to hug the little street-rat and pluck her from Guerilla's grip. "Awww, was the big bad man mean to you?" Vulture spoke in a playfully warm tone as though speaking with a newborn pet. Plum and Guerilla both recoiled and spoke in sync.

"Creepy!"

"Oh, let me have fun with it!" Vulture spat back as she laid Plum down onto the cold and firm plastic bed. That bed was the only thing there was room for in the miniscule, dark storage unit. That, a secretary chair, and a wide, blacklit ice tray under the bed that also served as the biggest light source in the room. Guerilla sighed, but Plum stayed infected with a fright she couldn't shake off. Who treats a bloodied stranger like that? What did she mean by fun? She honestly prefered her life earlier when she was being beat to shit by the bastard next to her. It was better than wondering what this wirey goth chick was planning. Plum's bright, gold eyes were wide like spotlights and shook in their sockets as she store at Vulture. She couldn't tell if it was purely nerves or if the concussion the 'big bad man' gave her was worsening-- she hadn't seen the gaping hole in her head and had no idea of her condition, but whatever the case, her words caught in her throat and all she could do was tremble violently and wet the cheap, stolen hospital bed below her.

Guerilla scooped a mechanical hand under her top and pulled it up with a finger, revealing subtle, pair sized breasts below that he leared out while nearly salivating. Plum welcomed the distraction from the fear, her eyes stuttered slowly into contact with his and pleaded for him to do something. He was to distracted by pushing his hand down into her shirt and clutching at her plush breasts.

"Hey!" Vulture complained. "Keep it in your pants, asshole. Client wants a virgin, was practically blowing a circuit about it."

"N-not..." Plum finally made herself speak through chittering teeth. "V-virgin... I'm n-not a..." As she struggled to stutter out the next 'v,' Vulture and Guerilla store in crestfallen disbelief, and then questioned in sync.

"What?!"

Vulture immediately put gloved hands up the girls pleated electric blue super-mini skirt, pulled down urine stained pink panties, and spread her plush pussy open with two fingers to find nothing that looked like a hymen. Sure, she could've been lying, could've lost her hymen another way or never had one to begin with, but the client was the kind of virginal loser who wouldn't pay if he didn't see whatever he thought he was supposed to. "Fuck!"

"After I put in all that work. What is wrong with kids these days? They give you enough free time in school to fuck around like that now?"

"Not a st-st-student. Asshole." Plum still didn't really have much motor control, gor whatever reason, but she was able to clumsily flop her arms folded over her stomach, and it made her feel a little safer, along with the ability to call her traffickers names. "T-teacher. I'm t-twentyfour you f-f-fuckwits." The snark earned the party-going academic a metalic punch to the cheek that rattled her already injured mind.

"Shut up mini-me." Guerilla turned to Vulture "what's the plan?"

"Just got a text from the client. Says he wants a picture right now to prove she's a virgin or the deals off. I couldn't fake it that fast if I wanted to."

"S-s-serves you right, fuckers! ...so can I l-leave?" Plum sat up slightly. Guerilla responded by stepping over the hospital bed, Plum's neck just below his groin. He unzipped and let unspool from between his zipper a hefty cock, laying it over her shocked face.

"Wait, what-what-what are you--" Plum's protests are cut off when her throat is packed with a juicy serving of dick. "Glk. Mmmlk!" The wet warmth of her throat envoloped the man enough for him to coo out gently in pleasure. Slimey saliva slicked over her moist esophagus and he could feel the flapping, desperate valve of her wind-pipe open and try to suck in air, resulting only in suctioning his dick harder into her pained neck. Plum's horror turned to growling frustration, but her hands came up to warmly clutch the backs of Guerilla's thighs. This was better than any number of alternatives.

"Great, just what I wanted. To work under your gyrating ass cheeks." Vulture pulled her Homedoc XS Bone Cutter from within her dark black labcoat. It's various metal gears for machine force assistance and the laser guide went some way in masking the fact that this was essentially an extra large and extra sharp pair of hedge cutters. Plum feels the scavenger pull her flimsy top up over her belly and breast and mentally, she preps herself for further molestation. But Vulture is lining up the sharp lower tip of the bone cutter with an experienced eye. She plunged the massive silver blade in just below Plum's sternum, and watched the dark blood begin to pool around the wound. Plum's eyes shot open and she coughed and spat around Guerilla's cock, screaming out a garbled, nonsense, dick-muffled scream while patting the backs of his thighs in the way a lover might request a break.

The Homedoc Bone Cutter made slicing a sternum in half sound and feel like snipping through construction paper. The long groove in Plum's sternum kept the cutter steady even as the petite captive's body went stiff and her back arched up til her breasts were pushing against Guerillas inner thighs. As blood leaked from her chest and puddled around her plump rear and thick legs, her oversized, rubbery sneakers kicked red splat marks and foot prints across Vulture's abdomen.

Guerilla felt the bend and curve of Plum's throat as she struggled, sending vibrating waves of pleasure through his body. He huffed out hot air and pressed his groin to her lips, both hands on her cheeks.
"Fuck yes, she's moving, she's moving! Girl's throat is tying my dick in knots!"

"Shut up, this isn't for you." Vulture crowbared her fingers between Plum's halved sternum and wrenched hard in both directions, opening it like a treasure chest full of unseen, valuable goods. Plum was foaming at the mouth around Guerilla's meat, his grip on her head was tight as a bear trap, and she could tell by the burning pain of her sliced flesh and cold wind against her organs that she was open now. She found herself trying to fight her bodies struggles, so afraid of spilling herself out onto the disgusting ground.

From this vantage point, Vulture had the misfortune of watching Guerilla cum in Plum's throat. A fleshy tube laid behind her lungs undulated and visibly transfered cum from neck to stomach in several rolling lumps of various sizes. When he slugged his organic mouth gag from her throat Plum didn't cough, instead, cum fountained up from her stomach to spill over her neck and into the cavity Vulture had made, messying her organs with steaming warm white ooze that sank between them and foamed as it gathered in the corners of her chest cavity. "Can you just one time keep your fucking fluids out of my work space?"

Every organ had it's own weight and soft form that moved like jelly with the swaying of Plum's body. Vulture assessed them first by value and then by ease of collection, pulling her self heating scalpel from an inner pocket in her lab coat. It took the thing seconds to become white hot, and she brought it across the Ureter valve that fed her right kidney. This fueled a scream that bubbled yhe remainder of cum from Plums throat and roused crows from their perches for miles. Vulture plucked the jiggling organ like sweet fruit from her torso and blindly threw it into the massive tray of ice that lay waiting under the bed. Plum had decided which was the lesser of two crooks surrounding her, and her wide eyes like glittering golden plates store, crying, into Guerilla's.

"P-p-please! Stop her. Stop her! I'm fuckin... I'm worth way m-m-more money than my organs! I can...!" talking so much in her state made Plum feel sick, and her words caught in her throat as she choked back bile. "I can pretend to be a virgin! Give me to the guy, I can--" Plum's request was met with the grinding of Guerilla's cum slimed dick against her face. When it ran over her forehead, it felt the dick weighed a million pounds, her entire forehead hurt to touch. She didn't understand that this was because of a million micro fractures leading to a gaping bullet hole that only by dumb luck didn't destroy anything vital in her brain. She brought her small, mysteriously clumsy hands up to stroke the base of that affectionate cock. She tried to put on a warm, lustful expression but her eyes had a kind of frenzied desperation in them and her smile was crooked and shaking. "Y-you want me to suck your dick s'more? I can do that, I--" There was a dull crunch and a wet, sloppy gush as he mashed himself into the hole at the center of her forehead. She opened her mouth to scream, but all that came out was a choked grunt, followed by droning mumbles. "Uh... a-uh... Mfhuuuuu..." Her body suddenly arched hard, neck and heels on the bed and the rest curved into a C. Vulture's scalpel hand wasn't prepared and slipped mindlessly through guts, causing imense pain Plum could still feel-- even if not for long.

"Fuck!" Vulture groaned, pushing on the girls hips to level her back down to the bed. "Warn me?!"

"Yeaaaah. Will do... This feels so much warmer than her mouth..." Plum's face contorted between expressions of pain and confusion as her grip on reality was melted by Guerilla fucking her bubblegum gushing skull-hole. Each wet slap of his groin against her forehead was met with flickers, twitches, and flinches of Plum's body that eventually made Vulture throw down her scalpel in disgusted annoyance.

"Whatever. Fucker. Just be done with it before her heart stops beating." Guerilla was on course to comply. He watched Plum's eyes every time he pulled from her sloshing head to see her turn slowly from a fiesty fighter, growling like a dog in reaction to each pump, to a listless sex doll, her demure features cherubic when slack and her eyes rolled up in something that could be confused with ecstasy if not for the deeply grey hue of her blood drained face.

By the time he was ready to cum, Plum's greying body was slumped aimlessly in his grip. Her arms would twitch with no intent to fight and then slowly fall back to the bed as if coming to rest under water. Convulsions were what did Guerilla in, her entire body stiffening and rattling like a vibrator around his cock. It made the wet pool of organs in her open body cavity loudly jiggle and slosh against her ribcage, her rattling caused Guerilla to burst hard and deep in her skull and splash brain chunks and cum from the dick jammed hole, the combination gumming against his leather pants and sliming down between her eyes to split into two streams at the bridge of her nose.

Then she was still. An undelivered package, order cancelled by the client. A graying corpse waiting for the good money in her chest to be harvested. Her blank face looked somehow both bored and whistful as it store into nothing, and quickly even drool stopped flowing from her mouth. Vulture watched Guerilla finally stop straddling the girl and step off the hospital bed, but she had already taken her gloves off and had a text message to check before returning to work.

\>BTW if u do orders for specific ppl I'll forget the whole virgin thing and pay way more, whatever it costs. I've got this teacher named Plum Amara I stg she's got an apple bottom that's ridiculous. I'll fucking empty the family coffers if you can get her to me in one piece. stg stg.
Sent 7min ago

"... ... ...FUCK."

With Asstr.org down and SexStories seeming a little too complicated, I thought to post on here. It covers all my favourite themes- (Dolcett, Incest, Feet, ashyxia, Necro) Enjoy !


Dolcett Gift

Exam results day. Two brown envelopes plopped onto the doormat of the Bridges household. Mr Bridges, briefcase in hand, about to go to work picked them up. Girls! He called and eighteen- year-old Louise and Becky came obediently down the carpeted stairs, still in their pyjamas as Mrs Bridges appeared with a mug of coffee.
Girls, Mr Bridges said sternly, it seems your examination results are here. Well, I had a feeling it was a special day. No use beating about the bush, I can’t be late for my appointment, so let’s see the results.
Nervously Louise went first, she tore open the envelope and scanned the first few lines of type: her grey-blue eyes tensed, then widened and a gentle smile emerged. I-I got two A’s and a B-plus! Better than I hoped.. I -I guess that means I can go to University!
Mrs Bridges balanced her mug on the radiator and clapped her hands while Louise’s sister hugged her. Very good girl, said Mr Bridges, I expected no less. Mr Bridges checked his watch. Now you, Rebecca.
Becky nervously opened the envelope, Louise looked over her shoulder as she read and re-read and bit her lip. Oh, Becks, said her sibling, I’m sorry, gosh, they were strict on geography this year, but I know you did your best.
Mrs Bridges frowned and stroked Becky’s hair, Oh honey I m sure we could appeal, couldn’t we father? It does seem a shame. She gave a little pout in her husband’s direction.
Mr Bridges read the letter. I’m afraid the exam board is strict but fair. We all must have faith that those in charge are always correct. I daresay girls we have put a lot of resources into getting you two an education while many poorer families have made different sacrifices. These are the facts. I must go to work now. Louise I congratulate you, he said gently patting her bottom. As for you, Rebecca, I think we owe your form tutor...er?
Mr Colesworth, said Mrs Bridges. A highly intelligent and respectful man.
Yes, thankyou. Father replied, Mr Colesworth is deserving of some sort of reward for educating our two girls. I shall make contact with him while on my tea-break, said Mr Bridges as he headed out the door into the rosey-fingered morning. Mrs Bridges, Louise- I hope you will help Rebecca make herself most presentable and all being well I shall deliver her to him this evening.
Becky stifled a sob and bowed her head as her father looked her up and down. We did our best with this one, Mrs Bridges. Indeed, it shall be a sad loss to us, but I’m sure Louise will bring her parents some loving comfort until such time as she will be heading to the big city, won’t you Lou Lou?
Yes, Daddy, Louise responded, trying to hide her own relief and enthusiasm behind a grave decorum for her less fortunate sister.
-
Mr Bridges and his daughter arrived at Mr Colesworth’s house around eight that evening. Mr Bridges, scrupulous to decorum, had made some enquiries into the tutor’s tastes which he had relayed to his wife, so that Becky stepped out of the car dressed in black ballet flats and a pale peach gymnasts outfit that accentuated her light tan buttocks and shapely legs as well as the slight, sensual mounds of her vulva and nipples. Her long, dark brown hair was pulled back into two plaited pig tails tied with blue ribbon.
Don’t frown so much, said Mr Bidges, you look pretty as a picture. I only wish I could enjoy you myself, but Mrs Bridges and I will be attending my bosses’ end-of-summer barbecue which will have a good spread of delights and I promise I will be thinking of you when I’m putting the sauce on a roasted piglet…. Which reminds me..
Mr Bridges strapped a ball-gag into his daughter’s mouth, Mr Colesworth doesn’t want to hear your pathetic pleading and begging, he’s rather fond of muffled sobbing though, so do your parents proud. At the threshold, Becky’s father rang the doorbell and shortly after greeted the rather bloated middle-aged man who answered. Mr Bridges was polite though somewhat formal as he hid his disapproval of what he had heard in private about this highly educated professor. There was something flabby and seedy and ill-disciplined about him, but etiquette was called for and Mr Bridges pushed his daughter through the door and, declining a whisky went stiffly back to his car.
Mr Colesworth licked his lips as he looked Rebecca up and down. He had been promised fine selection of flesh gifts in the coming week and was thoroughly enjoying his summer holiday away from the stresses of the classroom. He had ruthlessly dispatched his first gift, a bouncy blonde with a cuddle-some big, soft belly only a few days before using his favourite meat saw. Each new present would be a different experiment in pleasure.
Rebecca Bridges had been one of his more timid, obedient students. Not so much stupid as dreamy. Yes he had liked those dreamy grey eyes together with the coils of long, dark hair: was thee something of the Irish pixie about her? Although Mr Colesworth taught the more cerebral subjects, he enjoyed those occasions where he had to oversee the gymnastics class: the poise and abstract compositions these girls could form with their bodies was fantastic. Here, Rebecca had excelled.
Mr Colesworth felt his manhood swell. Becky wriggled uncomfortably under his gaze. She knew he was one of those protectors who only really looks over his flock as future protein. It was not because of but despite him that her sister had realized her University ambitions. Rebecca always knew this is the way it would end up. There were too many females for the roles in society available to them, unfair as it was, this is the way it always had been, or so they were told in history class.
Yes, Becky was dressed according to Mr Colesworth’s tastes as his secretary had relayed them. The eye is as large as the stomach and a well-presented meat toy does wonders for subsequent taste impressions. He liked her toe cleavage and the delicate turn of her ankles, the oozing out of her smooth cunt lips on either side of the fabric that tightened around her crotch, the corrugation of her ribcage and taut, soft nipples, the extraction of which, beaded in sweet blood droplets, was his favourite hors d'oeuvre.
Well Miss Bridges, your father is a most generous man. He stroked her collar bone and slender neck. How erotic to take one of those blue ribbons from her hair and strangle that pretty thing. Beck shivered as his disgusting, podgy hands moved across her thighs and stroked her bum. That’s where you’re most succulent, my dear. Yum yum. One finger fondled her sphincter, he pulled it out and sucked it. My, you are a clean and tasty thing. Follow me.
Down in Mr Colesworth’s basement everything had been cleared to one shadowy end of the room and under a single spotlight he had arranged a noose and under it a stool. No Knives or acid baths for you today. I’ll save the tools for dismembering your carcass tomorrow morning. No sweet piggy, I just want to watch your sexy body do the noose dance for me, I want to watch you suffocate. You have just the right body for that
Rebecca felt the tears well in her eyes. What a sad, lonely place to die. She smelt Mr Colesworth’s stink under his cologne. Was this the best she could expect? She had always hoped it would be her own parents who snuffed her. The thought of father’s stiff reserve giving way as he devoured her giving flesh, mother’s swollen cunt dripping as she slices into her daughter’s frilly labia.
I expect you think I want to have intercourse with you first? Said her former tutor, breaking her train of thought, but I prefer virgin meat and I have certain necrophilic tastes. Step up onto the stool like a good girl, here let me help you. Becky felt her tummy recoil as he handled her thin waist but she complied. She looked down at the acne scars on Mr Colesworth’s shiny bald head as he cut through the bunched fabric around her vagina with small neat scissors and grunted as he gazed approvingly at her most private parts. I’m glad you are well shaved, not a millimetre of stubble to spoil the excellence of your lovely puffy cunt. If I was grading you on that alone you would have got an A-plus.
Now he took her ballet flats off and lifted one of her feet so she had to balance on the other which was no easy task as she felt the room spin slightly. He flexed her toes to accentuate the arch of her foot and appreciated the wrinkles on her scrunched sole, again much to his tastes. He often kept the plasticized feet of the special ones to fondle when he was staring forlornly at all the homework he had to mark. Becky would definitely join his collection.
First things first though, he told the girl to put the noose around her neck. She garbled something through her ball-gag. He didn’t care what – instead he imagined her father’s stiff cock filling her throat. Did he do that often? How he had avoided the temptation of his daughter’s tight slit he only wondered at the man’s resilience. Mr Colesworth knew he had little resilience he was only tolerated in society because he was a man and he had a brain. He had worked hard to get his share of the meat supply and every year he had to work harder to keep everyone happy. At least at times like this he was given permission to take out his frustrations and re-invigorate himself for the next intake.
He licked Rebecca’s juicy outer lips. A spot of her dribble fell on the belly of her gym-suit. He could see the goosebumps rise on her pretty legs. He listened to her hot breaths. Just one more detail, Mr Colesworth said cuffing her wrists behind her back. Yes, indeed that completes the look.
The cuffs were too tight, it pulled back her shoulder blades in a way that hurt, but how to communicate this through her ball-gag? Becky worried the excess saliva dribble was a little un-lady-like. Indeed, Mr Colesworth was a a disgusting beast, especially as she watched him undress, but despite this she was impressed by the matter-of-fact masculinity of his erect cock. His penis was hard for her and it did, despite everything, feel nice to be wanted, to be hungered for. Soon that white, stiff snake would be all over her dead, nude body. She knew how sexy she looked. Right now the spotlight was on her, not on her sister. The man’s cold eyes were already eating her. When he kicked the stool away, she would be completely his. She imagined how fat and angry his cock would be as she gasped, gurgled and asphyxiated. She thought of her own vulnerability, her young limbs, her available meat holes and the manly pleasure he would take as he fucked her lifeless body.
He was crossing the floor towards her panting, with her last conscious thought, Becky imagined the look of delight on her father’s face when her teacher phoned him to thank him for the wonderful meat gift.

Adventuring with a party didn’t quite sit well with Sahja, but she figured that it would be much better than having to compete with the group while hunting an elite ogre. During her long career of adventuring she had learned that fellow adventurers were as much as a danger as the monsters they slay, and this particular group had individuals much more experienced than herself. She was not about to give up on the hefty reward however— even a portion of it would set her straight for months. It was easy enough, convincing them to take her, a shifty rogue, into their party. Seeing as they were all males, all it took was a shake of her hips and a rough night of cocksucking and the from the next day onwards, Sahja was traveling in style.

It didn’t take the catgirl and her new party members too long to find the ogre’s territory. It was hard to miss the scattered remains— both adventurers and village folk alike— littering its perimeters. Sahja spotted some relatively fresh remains of an elven party, the females stripped down and their nethers covered with the telltale signs of rape. She muttered a silent prayer for them before proceeding to loot the corpses blind of what valuables they still possessed. She had been in the process of relieving a particularly busty elven corpse off its bracelets when she heard her other party members call out for their wayward thief. From the urgency of their voice, they seemed to have found their quarry.

The ogre, standing over twice as tall as their gorilla of a paladin, shook the forest with its battlecry. Hefting its battleaxe, it charged the elite party without regards to its own safety. The momentum didn’t last long. Within moments the party had set up their positions and were relentlessly bearing down on the lone creature, teaching it to go on the defensive. Unfortunately for them, it had on it some thick armor, dwarven-made from the looks of it. And so the party had trouble scratching its green hide even as they took turns attacking it. Sahja arrived just in time to see their wolfish barbarian try to parry a downward swipe from the ogre’s battleaxe. The man was cloven in two for his efforts. Before the other members could mourn the loss, the paladin of the group charged in to avenge his fallen ally. As he jumped to drive his longsword into the ogre’s forehead, a fist slapped him down which, weighed down by his armor, made f

or a fatal impact.

Sahja didn’t quite much care for her companions, but seeing the ogre start slaughtering them made her not want to face it alone. She fought bravely alongside her remaining companions, darting in and out while avoiding the ogre’s slow swipes. She had speed on her side and was feeling pretty good about her odds but soon found out that it didn’t amount to shit. The tricky dwarven armor repelled most of her precise attacks, breaking a dagger in the process. Adrenaline kept her blood pumping and it soon gave way into frustration and that gave way to carelessness. As Sahja tried for the umpteenth time to pierce the giant’s hide, she cried in triumph as it sunk into flesh. However, her joy was short lived as she realized that her blade was stuck. Not quite thinking clearly, the catgirl tried to pull it out, not noticing the pike head barreling straight to her skull. Sahja didn’t even get to feel her death, instantly losing her life as the spike skewered her brain. Her body flopped around at the battleaxe’s head before the ogre shook it off its weapon. She fell unceremoniously on the ground, her brain leaking through a huge wound, as the ogre continued to butcher the rest of her party.

The ogre huffed a steamy breath as it took stock of its surroundings. Five dead adventurers— including one sexy catgirl. Feeling a throb on its manhood, the ogre shuffled over to the fallen thief girl to gawk at the sexy corpse it left behind. Brain matter spilled from its skull, on which the catgirl’s pained expression was imprinted. Her skirt flaps were hiked up, revealing a pair of rich thighs. The ogre’s erection painfully nuzzled against his codpiece at the sight. Knowing that the battle is won, he rushed over and slung the dead catgirl over his shoulder before making a beeline towards the comfort and privacy of his home, spilling more grey matter in the process.

The large codpiece containing his erection had been removed way before the ogre even entered his lair. Her ran with his stiff cock swinging against his thighs. Upon setting foot on what passed for his bed, the ogre wasted no time in slamming poor Sahja on his waiting erection. The catgirl swung listlessly before slamming face first into the hard meat stick, her limbs comically wrapping around it while her face kissed it rounded tip. Moving his fingers to Sahja’s wide hips, the ogre gripped the corpse before rubbing her body on its cock. A small whimper of satisfaction escaped the ogre’s lips along with a shiver coursing through his body. His last encounter had been a few days ago, and the elven onaholes didn’t last long after that.

For now, having a squishy catgirl comforting his cock was all he really needed. Sahja’s prided breasts squished against him, the valley of her thighs hugging his erection in a warm embrace. The rubbing motion soon brought out Sahja’s tongue, causing it to lick her murderer’s penis as he pleasured himself with her smooth skin. As he played with his new toy, the ogre mercilessly stripped it off its troublesome clothes, leaving bare skin to caress his manhood. After a few more minutes of self gratification, the ogre’s rod spewed multiple stick ropes of milky jizz, fountaining over Sahja and Elizabeth intended to claim a bounty but instead lost her life fighting an ogre.
She was stabbed by its halberd. The ogre decided to have sex with her still warm corpse.
Using the hole he made in her torso.
It spend the rest of its day fucking her. It's semen poured out of her mouth to resemble a cum fountain

Releasing buckets of cum was no reason for the ogre to slow down at all. If anything, that was just an appetizer of what’s to come to poor Sahja. Grabbing the corpse-toy by the legs, the ogre spread Sahja’s nethers without much care for its durability. The catgirl’s torso dangled for a bit before the ogre straightened it into position by pulling her legs further apart. As the catgirl’s corpse presented its bare pussy towards his tip, the ogre let himself inside the welcoming hole. Being the length and double the girth of Sahja’s arm, the ogre’s cock had some trouble piercing straight into her depths, butt was a simple problem that was easily remedied with brute force, just as he liked it. Bones snapped as the ogre pulled Sahja towards his raging erection. Its hunger for sexual gratification was unmatched at the moment, and it ravenously tore through any obstacle that impeded its progress. Soon, its cock met the roof of the catgirl’s womb. A vile grin flashed at the ogres lips as it savored the moment for a while, letting his knob kiss the dead catgirl’s chamber. After a while, his grin widened and he started to thrust his hips with more force.

The ogre grunted as he gyrated his hips. He felt something tearing and so he kept pushing the rupture. Sahja’s body bounced listlessly at the assault, unable to do anything bu to wait for the inevitable. Soon, her womb broke, and the ogre’s cock delved into the warm embrace of Sahja’s innards. A bulge in her belly showed where the ogre’s cock has travelled, and it continued to expand as the ogre ruined her further. A large tongue leapt out in ecstasy as the ogre felt its cock being completely enveloped in the dead adventurer’s limited warmth. It took him a few moments for him to settle his cock snugly as the catgirl’s body would allow him. As he did so, he immediately started pumping his hips into his corpse-toy, enjoying it to the fullest. It made sure to gawk at the body flailing about as his thrusts made it dance.

The depravity of the situation, and the working off of his post-battle lust juiced up the ogre into sensory overload. Within the next moment, his cock unloaded its second helping of jizz, this time inside the dead adventurer. The absurd amounts of cum easily flooded Sahja’s belly, inflating it to an obscene shape before the jizz fired off from the catgirl’s multiple orifices. From her anus to her mouth, spunk overflowed with extreme intensity as the ogre filled her corpse like a balloon. Globs upon globs of semen impregnated Sahja temporarily, deflating her fake belly as the ogre pulled out of her ruined corpse and let his spunk run free of her gaping cunt.

Still, the ogre was hungry for more, and Sahja had been unfortunately sexy enough to feed the ogre’s lust. The rest of the day was spent violating Sahja’s cooling corpse, watching it get filled and overflowing with the ogre’s slimy seed which it enjoyed to almost no end. The defilement of Sahja’s body only ended when the ogre suddenly fell asleep mid-fuck, the catgirl still impaled on its cock until it awoke in the next sunrise.

Seeing a stiff corpse on its dick first thing in the morning, the ogre pumped it a few times to squeeze the last vestiges of his morning wood onto Sahja.
After it was sufficiently flaccid, the ogre pulled the catgirl off with a wet plop. His first order of business was to add her and her party to the myriad of corpses decorating the borders of his territory, in hopes that it will lure more foolhardy adventurers into their deaths. Reverse-psychology has worked well for him so far after all.