Hanging dance for windows v1.1
Hello! It is my make a game. And FREE now.https://subscribestar.adult/posts/356900

I am garbage. I am a piece of trash. Entirely without worth as a living breathing thing, and much more useful as an object to be used and thrown away, in that anyone gets any use at all out of me. I am the kind of fetid trash that is so repugnant it can only be immediately carted far away from a well kept home as not to offend its occupants. Im not a special piece of trash, not even valid as a conversation piece or memory. Im common trash, daily trash, entirely unmemorable.

I lay, with other replaceable trash like me, beside the city street. Thrown from my home, where I could not be of service, where my presence made my keepers upper lip raise on one side towards their nose as if trying to seal it off from a rank smell. I lay now with my shoulderblades on cold cement and my eyes blankly staring towards the sky. I think my eyes are blank, I hope theyre blank. Blank and gray. So that a glance could inform passersby that nothing of significance is taking place behind them. Trash swarms over me, trash like me. I feel what I imagine to be a roach crawl over my forearm. I hate roaches, I find them to be the most deploreable. I envy them. They neednt consider their lot in life. They ask themselves no questions and are not sensitive to answers.

I feel a tug at my shin, and the sky above me moves. Good, turn me over, I dont deserve to see the sky. My useless body flops to its stomach and I feel my rear end raised. Useful. This is what Im useful for. The assailant grabs my hair and lifts my face from the cement, he looks at me. I look past him. Some part of me is dead, and has stopped searching for human connection. I dont feel the inclination to meet his eyes, the natural will to has died somehow. I just watch him glance over me from my peripherals. He kisses me. He must approve of me. I let him play with my limp and listless tongue until thin strands of saliva drip down my chin and hug my neck. He drops me when he becomes bored. I dont make any effort to catch myself, so my head quickly smacks into the ground. I chip a tooth. It hurts. I let out the slightest of mumbles, a light murmer to satisfy mt bodies desire for me to do something about the pain. He says something about me being alive, and I feel him punch me twice in the back of the head. It hurts less than the tooth. But yes. This is right. Use me like this. I want my worthless shell to be made useful by you, to be recycled, to have some second hand value to even just a stranger. Make me a punching bag. Enjoy

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I'm recreating this in 3d. Need some ideas. Concept art would be nice or you can give me a rough sketch. I don't know how I should proceed besides a "blob". I'd like to see some bones sticking out, veins popping, farting, even some flies swarming over some areas.

I don't care about anatomy, I even thought of giving her a big leg vein that comes out with the rest highlighting "blue Chakra" running through them. I want her still kicking for a whole minute before screen turns black. What's the sickest, most twisted way this should end? I'll gladly share once project is complete.

trying to find 2 stories, the first is about 2 friends who are tortured consensually by ones father and grandfather (neither die), the story also has something about girls having classes like A,B,C. The second one is about some girls in a cafeteria and then some robots come in to collect the girls meat. sorry for any shitty formatting and thanks in advance

i think this one is from Battle Angel Alita, does anyone know the chapter/character name?

Recently found a game called Exhibit of Sorrow that's basically torture lite. No blood, guts or nudity, but the expressions are on point. Any other works like this?

I find ribs to be aesthetically (and sexually) pleasing, so make sure to post some good ones!

Anyone willing to decapitate her? An expression change on the head would help it a lot too.

https://discord.com/invite/twistedstudios

That night, the rest of the Russian patrol met up with the pair and made a macabre game out of Lara's corpse that only the crazed soldiers of the Russian army would find fun. Each bounced her headless, limp body around and fucked her cold ass without castrating themselves on the ax blade jutting from her pussy. As the remains were sodomized, the woman's mouth and throat were stuffed in a more conventional manner, semen pooling up and bursting from both holes withing the span of a half hour.

By the time morning came, Croft's ass would be a gaping, cum-stuffed mess her rapists took photos of. Shortly before leaving to continue their mission, her body would be tied to a hood and shown off, while the renowned archaeologist's severed head would be seen as the truck's new hood ornament.

Thought it was about time I stop lurking and start posting. Selections from my guro artwork will be posted here. This is my most recent, a commission from KevIsNsfl on Twitter.

It's about a boy that lures another boy to a house and ties him down,an older man appears and together they kill him with a knife, after that they BOTH rape his body, later the man takes the body to butcher him and cook him for the boy, after that the boy goes outside to lure another victim.

I remember the boy being very enthusiastic about killing the other boy (with a knife if i recall correctly) it was drawn (no 3d) and the boys were like 11-12 years old. It was SO good and i don't remember where did i read it.

I was wondering if anyone around here know where I could find someone to help me with a story, it would involve girls peeing and pooping, so they would have to to be ok with that sort of stuff, though it wouldn't be anything too much, mostly just girls relieving themselves, some desperation and a bit of other things.

honestly I just need help with making the story look better so I really use some help.

Any onion working guro sites?

Hello, first time poster on gurochan. My name is pusmonster and i write sadistic torture stories focused on women’s feminine parts. This is one of my requests about a girl named Taylor. Enjoy and let me know what you think.
WARNING- there is no sex in this story, it is purely torture so if you are into that-

TAYLOR
Descripton- Taylor is a girl in her early twenties with bright blue eyes and brown-red curly hair down to her breasts, which are around a size C.

Taylor is sitting in her room at her dresser getting ready to go out. Shes looking at her own pretty face framed with curls in the mirror and is waiting for her hair straightener to heat up. Taylor hasn't gotten to go out in a while because of work and world circumstances so shes excited to meet her friends and go out to a nightclub for a well earned break. Maybe she could even find a cute guy and bring some adventure back to her life.
Little did Taylor know that I have been watching her through a crack in her door, slowly stroking my cock and looking around her room thinking of ways to make her life a lot worse and mine a lot more fun.
While Taylor is preoccupied looking down and painting her nails, I realise its my opportunity to strike. I thank god these young sluts nowadays always wear their airpods listening to trash music, just so I could make my entrance more dramatic. I slowly open the door and creep towards her until im a foot behind her, looking down at her little shoulders, with her blissfully - of how different her life would soon be.

Suddenly I violently yank on her little necklace backward, causing Taylor to make an amusing choked yelp of surprise as her necklace breaks and she falls backwards off her stool and lands on her back facing up right between my legs. For a second there she is, in a momentary shock, lying on the ground with her beautiful big blue eyes staring straight up at the balls of her worst nightmare. As she gulps in air preparing to scream, I suddenly sit down on her face, mashing the bottom of my cock and balls into her pretty features smearing her mascara and lipstick. I quicly grab her arms and tuck them under my legs, immobilising her upper body. Now she is all mine. Her legs are trashing violently and her muffled screams are pleasuring my junk but she is unable to protect her vulnerable front. my hands descend on her young perky clothed tits with viciousness. I find her nipples and then cruelly twist them in opposing directions. This makes her scream louder into my bulge, sending vibrations of pleasure. while keeping a twisted grip on her nipples, I start alternatively pulling them away from her body and then mushing them into her ribcage, causing indescribable pain to poor Taylor- who had only had so much as been slapped a couple times in her life. I suddenly let them go, and then start smacking them hard with downward motions like im playing the bongo.

Im glad Taylor chose to wear sheer stockings today, as I could easily use my strength to tear them off her kicking legs. then I grab her pink panties on either side and YANK them towards me, causing a cruel wedgie straight up her cunt. Her legs straighten for a bit as she lifts her ass off the floor to subside the sharp pain in her privates. This is when her panties deicide to also snap, freeing her womanly parts for my viewing and torturing pleasure. Before I get to work on her though I have to tie her up. I get off Taylor, and on cue she starts screaming at the top of her voice, trying to push me away with one hand and covering her pussy with the other. I quickly wrestle her into a headlock and choke her with my arms till she passes out.

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The rebels did not have a chance. Tired after a week-long march and most still bearing their burdens they mustered little in the way of a defense, those who drew their weapons were quickly cut down. The camp was swiftly surrounded, the rebel men were given no quarter and were swiftly put to the sword, the river on the banks of which the camp was just being established ran red with their blood. I want to spare the my dear readers the description of the horrible torments inflicted upon the leader of the rebellion but suffice it to say that by the time he started to pray for death, the king’s executioners were only halfway done with their work and at the end of it his corpse hardly resembled a human being. The children of the camp were declared outlaws and prohibited from ever returning to civilization under pain of death, then allowed to run away. For the wives, adult daughters however, the commanders had something special in mind to make sure no further rebellions would spring up in this remote part of the kingdom. The rough soldiers, still bloodied from killing their male relatives forcibly removed their clothes, leaving them in naught but their shifts. The unfortunate rebel women were also ordered to remove their shoes and stockings to ensure against flight and prevent them from strangling each other to avoid the king’s justice. Females unwilling to undress themselves or bare their feet were effectively “encouraged". Loud wailing and screaming from fear, humiliation and grief could be heard throughout the camp, much to the amusement of the hardened soldiers.
The next town was situated a three day's march away from the rebel camp. Horsemen were sent out who could make the trip in a day. Meanwhile, canes and whips were used to drive the unfortunate barefoot and almost naked prisoners to their fate. It was obvious that the march would not be a quick one as the rebel wives and daughters rightfully suspected they were headed towards a painful and, even more importantly to most of them, extremely humiliating end. About twenty out of the two hundred and fifty captured women tried to escape but none succeeded, barefoot and exhausted with most of the road leading through dense forests the bloodhounds would quickly catch up with them and just as quickly, their already flimsy shifts ripped and bloodied, they would rejoin the rest of the doomed wenches on the way towards their destiny. Heart-breaking scenes could be witnessed among the doomed women and girls, a mother tried to strangle her two twin daughters with her bare hands before soldiers intervened and separated the crying family members before they could do real damage to themselves.
Meanwhile, the Royal horsemen had arrived in the town and immediately went to work. Every man able to lift a saw, hammer or shovel was pressed into service but promised a fair wage at the end of it all. Soon the entire town was working to prepare the upcoming mass hanging of the rebel wives and daughters. Construction on a huge gallows spanning the whole town square lengthwise, big enough to accommodate 250 women began and a mass grave just outside the town to accommodate 250 female corpses stacked one on top of each other was dug. The town had quite a large rope-making industry so there was no shortage of this most cruel and humiliating means of execution. The women of the town were tasked with tying the nooses that would ensnare the necks of the defeated rebel wenches, there was no time for elaborate hangman’s nooses so when the time would come, the sinful women’s necks would be ensnared by simple slipknots, lengths of rope used to bind their wrists behind their backs as a mark of their captivity and humiliation were also cut to size. Crude benches would have to be hammered together as a last perch for the bare feet of the doomed women and girls before a series of swift kicks would send them them dancing on their way to oblivion.
The sounds of the doomed females preceded their shameful procession, there was much screaming, wailing and praying caused by their shameful fate as well as the grief from losing their sons, brothers, fathers and husbands. Then the first of the miserable creatures emerged, then another and another. Their white and grey shifts, faces pale from fear and bare, dusty feet made them look more like ghostly apparitions than human beings. And so the sorry procession slowly made it’s way into the settlement. Before they are led to the gallows, there is one more humiliation the poor lasses needed to endure. Slender wrists were chafed by rough ropes, hands made fists to test the unforgiving bindings. A few young women broke down as they were bound, attempting to escape, trying to fight the guards or just pressing their slender arms against their chest, piteously begging the guards for mercy but the overwhelming majority of the doomed females took this new humiliation about as well as anything that came before it.
With the gallows birds securely trussed up it was time to drive them forward towards their fate one last time. As the gallows came into view wails and screams rose once more in volume, about five of the doomed wenches wet themselves in fear of the waiting nooses and the slow and humiliating deaths they would bring. Without ceremony, the unfortunate girls were marched towards the long benches, forced up and then with an almost industrial routine nooses were put around their necks, long hair was removed from within after which the nooses were tightened, ready to seal their windpipes and with that, their collective fate.
Getting all of the future “brides of the noose" ready to dance their shameful dance at the end of short hempen ropes for the amusement of the King's men and the deterrent of the townsmen and women did not present a quick task, a surprising number of townsmen and more than a few women however derived pleasure from seeing the prisoners treated in such a way. It is to be noted that the shifts of some of the wenches were ripped as a result of the cruel journey and without means of covering themselves, they were presenting their bare breasts, nipples erect and covered in goosebumps from fear and the cold of the morning.
Having to wait for the preparation of their fellow prisoners was a form of torture within itself because it prolonged and worsened the fear of the prisoners and gave them more time to further dishonor themselves by crying, screaming and begging to be spared the humiliation of dancing the Tyburn jig in front of the whole town. Again, a few of the terrified captives could not control their bladders and their contents formed puddles on the benches, since they were placed close to each other, this meant that their neighbors too would have to suffer the smell and the discomfort and humiliation of standing with bare feet in a stinking yellow puddle. A particularly unfortunate creature, the daughter of a rebel lieutenant, a raven-haired, doe-eyed beauty of 21 summers named Elizabeth who’s delicate features and small but incredibly well formed breasts with nipples that seemed ready to burst through her thin, white shift, suffered the worst humiliation. She tried to pray to calm herself but in the end panic won and she evacuated herself down her slender, trembling legs. She gasped in shame, her face blushed intensively and tears started to flow down her face and, without any means of wiping them away, fell down onto the bench, mixing with her leavings. She tried to move her dainty, now soiled feet away from the disgusting pile but the dimensions of the bench and the tightness of the rope did not allow any meaningful escape. The four other females on the bench wrinkled their nose and the sound of suppressed gagging came from her immediate neighbours while poor Elizabeth was left to stand in her shame with the noose around her delicate neck reminding her of even more suffering that was to come.
Then it is all ready. 250 necks are now surrounded by rough hemp, 250 pairs of bare, dusty feet are perched uneasily on rickety, crowded stools. 250 hearts beat as quickly as they can, 250 chests heave with the last breaths. Some are silent, some still pray, beg and cry but none of that makes any difference now, their fate is the same. Initially it had been considered to kick away the benches one at a time but the fact that the execution, were it conducted in that manner, would take up the whole day plainly argued against it and so it was decided that all of the prisoners would loose their footing and commence their shameful "wedding dance" at the same time. There is no need for a sentence to be read as the king himself had proclaimed that any man or woman joining the rebel cause would immediately forfeit their life. 50 of the King's men, chosen at random step forward and slowly walk behind each of the benches and put their heavy military boots against the last support for vulnerable bare feet. At this moment the mental anguish of the rebel wenches reaches its apex. The flow of liquid can be heard again. Some faint but the ropes stop them from falling. All sorts of emotions were painted across the faces of the condemned women: fear, grief, sadness, despair, anger, shame, disgust and everything in between. Jaws tremble, naked toes scratch the rough wood, hair is plastered to pale foreheads with the sweat of fear, breasts heave with final breaths, lips utter their last curses, prayers, pleas and barely coherent babbles. The town clock strikes ten.

BANG!!!

50 benches fly forwards as one, 250 necks now know the weight of the bodies that are supposed to carry them. Bare legs kick, gurgling of all volumes and pitches can be heard throughout the whole town, they form one collective, desperate plea for air, a cacophony of suffering beyond imagination. Some of the suffering prisoners kick each other or attempt to wrap their bare legs around their neighbour to escape the deadly pressure of the noose that way. Heads are forced into various, sometimes unnatural angles. Desperation fills the eyes of the poor wenches, efforts to free bound hands lead to nothing but bleeding wrists. Shifts are kicked far and wide, sometimes tearing leaving poor sufferers with their breasts exposed and in a few instances even utterly naked.
Gradually and with a few exceptions the kicking is replaced with twitching. Faces turn blue, tongues make their way through discoloured lips. Bare, dirty feet point down in the vain hope of finding support. Squeaks replace gurgling, clicking replaces squeaks. Eyes once filled with life become grotesque, with broken capillaries but still tell the tale of the horrible suffering felt by the poor lasses. Bladders and bowels void themselves en masse down twitching legs, sometimes accompanied by last grunts of shame and sometimes it is quite obvious that the utterly dishonoured wenches no longer care. Literal puddles and small mounds of excrement form themselves under the unhappy rebel wives and daughters. A disgusting smell permeates throughout the town heralding the utter defeat and humiliation of the rebels. The last to stop her looking fight against the noose is the 22 year old flaxen-haired daughter of the rebel leader, a spirited girl, sometimes acting as her father's commander. Before darkness envelops her the rope turns her to the left, then the right. She sees all of those women who put their trust into her father and herself turned into corpses, shifting and pissing themselves in death. A last strangled sob makes it’s way through her constricted throat, then there is silence. Some of the condemned die a “clean death" but it is an exception not a rule.

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Translated by DeepL

someone posted a series of these

When Tim walked into the butcher shop, he was obviously terrified. Holding the red ticket in his hands, he was on the verge of tears when he heard the tiny bell jingle above the door. In the window several butchered boys just the same age as him were hanging by hooks, their naked bodies in clean pieces with prices stuck into their flesh with pins. Slowly he walked up to the currently empty counter. "Hello?" He called out. "My mommy told me I had to come here?" A few moments later an older man came from behind the counter and greeted Tim.

"Hi there little one! What's your name?" Asked the man gently.

"Tim," answered timidly, still holding the ticket.

The child handed the ticket over to the butcher. It was a notice from the Department of Population Control - Tim had been randomly selected to be culled for his meat in order to address the food shortage the area was facing. A half dozen boys came in each day with tickets like this. Each boy would then be taken back to the front of the store where they'd have their bodies weighed, measured, and inspected before being prepared for slaughter. The inspectors were not gentle men, most of them having spent their entire lives hunting, killing, and butchering people just like Tim. They were all looking forward to breaking this small child down so that they could enjoy a hot meal tonight.

"Well, well, well... Tim. Lets see if you're a big enough boy to become dinner!"

"Ok, what do I have to do?" The nervous child said.

"Well, first off we'll need you to strip."

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