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Just curious.

It's my kink

Literature
A place for anyone to muse on the depravity of cutting off a woman's arms and legs and treating them like helpless fucktoys. A community project where anyone is free to contribute with their own stories about limbless girls and women. Heavy rape kink. Loli content allowed. Have fun everybody.

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I kick my feet up on my new footstool. Her name is Sandra, and three weeks ago I abducted her on her way home from night classes. I knocked her out, drugged her so she wouldn't wake up, then dragged her into my car and took her home with me. She's been living with me ever since.

Sandra doesn't like being my footstool. I can tell because she keeps fidgeting and trying to wriggle out from under my heels. She lets out muted cries of discomfort and shakes her head angrily, but that doesn't mean a thing to me.

The night I abducted Sandra, I amputated all her limbs and had her vocal chords cut out.

Sandra is a pretty woman. A very pretty woman. With her wavy light-brunette hair and her sensual, slender figure, she could have gotten any man she wanted.

Now, she's a very pretty torso. And she's all mine.

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Feedback or comments would be appreciated.

If anyone else wants to write their own one-shot about amputating a woman's limbs or keeping a limbless sex slave, I invite everyone to participate.
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It's been six months and I don't call her Sandra anymore. She's just pussy now. She used to be worth calling Sandra when she was alive and full of vigor, but after the couple months of being a rapetoy, she slowly grew numb to it all and slipped away into a despondent lump of who she used to be.

This pussy still eats when I feed her, but it's an automatic process where she doesn't even seem to register what's going on. It doesn't matter if I feed her flavorless crap or a hot meal, it goes down all the same with her.

Same with using the toilet. I put her on the seat, she empties out, and I wipe the crap off her asshole and that's it. If forget to take her to the toilet, she just shits and pisses herself wherever she happens to be at the time once the pressure becomes a discomfort to hold in. Even then, there's none of the shame she used to exhibit, none of the resentment. It's like she became a machine.

I don't dislike that. The degradation of her mind has been fun in its own way. At first, I tried hitting and torturing her to reignite that spirit she used to have, but the spark died no matter what I did. Her mind just couldn't handle the strain of her hopeless situation and retreated into oblivion as her sanity wore away. Now she's just a blob of flesh running on the bare minimum of instinct to sustain itself.

That's why she's just pussy now.

And that's great for me. After all, the only reason I grabbed this pussy off the streets and cut off her limbs was to have an easy-to-use rape victim on hand. She's just as usable as ever and that suits my needs just fine. Her cunt still grips me good when I'm inside her and her body still shudders when it orgasms. Just because she doesn't move much anymore doesn't mean I don't cum just as hard taking advantage of her mutilated, worthless torso. At the end of the day, she's warm, wet, tight, and pretty, and that's all I need to enjoy myself with her.

And honestly? It's pretty hot that I was able to shatter her so completely. I like that I can pick her up now and her limbless body just hangs limply like a doll. I like the way I can poke her eye and she blinks it, but her expression doesn't change and she doesn't even look away. I like how I can wedge a fat finger up her asshole and I get nothing from her, not even a breath. She's become a flesh doll in a very real sense and it's been incredible. It's hilarious to think that at one point she was once a normal, ordinary woman.

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Here's a quad amputee story, but with completely different vibe:

I’ve been a limbless hucow for just a few weeks now, and every day settles me deeper into this new life. Strapped securely to my comfortable frame in the stall, I can’t move my arms or legs—they’re gone, surgically removed to make me the perfect milk producer. But the frame cradles me just right, tilting my torso forward so my massive breasts hang heavy and full, swaying slightly with each breath. They’re enormous, swollen udders that lactate nonstop, warm milk dribbling from my thick nipples unless the machines catch it first.

The stall is cozy in its own way: soft padding against my skin, dim lights that mimic a sunset glow, and the faint hum of the facility around me. Right now, the milking machines whir to life every few minutes, their suction cups clamping onto my nipples with a firm pull. I feel the tug deep in my chest as they draw out the milk, rhythmic and insistent, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my core. My pussy clenches with each pull, wetness building between my thighs. It’s not just relief; it’s ecstasy, waves of heat that make me moan softly. I arch my back as much as the frame allows, savoring how my breasts empty and refill, the cycle keeping me in a constant state of aroused bliss.

Thanks to the neural implant wired into my brain, I don’t feel trapped. It lets me surf the internet like anyone else—scrolling feeds, chatting, even shopping for cute accessories for my stall. Today, though, I’m using it for a video call. The implant projects the holographic screen right in my mind’s eye, clear as day, while the stall’s camera captures me from the front, framing my face and those pendulous tits.

The call connects, and there they are: Mom and Dad on one side of the split screen, my younger sister Lily on the other. Mom’s eyes widen a bit, like they always do when she sees me like this, but she smiles warmly. Dad nods approvingly—he was the one who encouraged me to sign up for the program, said it’d be a fresh start after my accident. Lily, at nineteen, just grins mischievously, her ponytail bouncing as she leans in.

“Hey, Em! You look... glowy today,” Lily says, her voice bubbly through the implant’s audio feed.

I laugh, the sound vibrating through my chest and making my breasts jiggle. “Thanks, sis. Must be all this fresh milk I’m producing. The machines just finished a session—feels amazing, honestly. Like, full-body tingles.” The suction cups detach with a wet pop in the background, and I feel a fresh trickle of milk start to leak, warm rivulets sliding down my skin.

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Since you asked for feedback: Part one of the sandra story is very decent but would be better if you trim the useless bits (wink). remember: show, don't tell! you dump a lot of exposition up front. you thought things through. that's good! but a big chunk of the story could have been shown with action or dialogue or just cut out. for example when the narrator is about to rape her you keep hammering home how powerless she is. that's obvious! compare it to the "think she's trying to swat my hand away out of reflex" line. it shows action, her psychological state, how she doesnt want to be touched, how the amputation is still new to her. way more effective! also the narrator feels a bit flat. he's never surprised by anything, always knows what he's doing next and worst of all, constantly describes how aroused he is.

the second part is much stronger. things happen. we see how she lives every day, everyday moments. the narrator shows emotions. it's a compelling short story.

idk if you wrote emma daily life aswell but it's very good in those aspects. it's good that there is dialogue instead of exposition. the family members have distinct personalities. the mother seemed at first like she was secretly disappointed with emma's choice but then she got explicit too so maybe not? idk if that was on purpose but i would have found it interesting. like in those videos of people who transitioned where you can see the father looks dead inside. the part where the machine suddenly kicks on and starts aggressively milking her is great. you could have added how the mother cringed internally watching that. The line "But friends might complicate things—emotions and all" doesn't sound like something a real person would say.

Whatever, keep going, you're developing a unique style.
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The "Amputate All Women Project" (AAWP) went on to become global. In each country of the world, it received more votes than any presidential election. Men voted for it, women voted for it. Having all limbs amputated sounded better than having to continue to go to work everyday and cope with this capitalist society.

The "Yes" was rotund, and so it was finally established that every woman in the world had to be amputated by the end of the month. Most went to hospitals to have the operation done, some tried to hide and run, but we're eventually found and had all their limbs sawed off and their vocal cords removed.

Now every woman was every man's possession. A lot of women died because they didn't have any man to care for them, so they just starved to death, but a lot of women were kept in their family's homes, or the home of any abuser who would have them.

They were kept not just as toys but also for reproductive reasons, and of course every time a baby girl was born they immediately were amputated too. In a couple generations, nobody knew what a non-amputated woman looked like, except for old pictures, which couldn't even be trusted because most found images were IA anyway.

And this is the story of how the AAWP was a success.

Literature
The job advertisement only said that the applicant had to be in the bloody week of their period. No experience necessary. It was for some kind of show.

So, the ten girls that accepted the job were just asked to step up to a stage in front of some patrons.

First, they were asked to prove they were in their period. So they had to remove their pants, panties (¿Underwear?) and show everyone their bloodied tampons and tissues. Two girls didn't want to do this and instead stepped down the stage, forfeiting their payment.

The remaining eight were allowed to put their pants back on and we're then asked to remove their shirts, T-shirts, tops or blouses. One girl didn't want to and stepped down. They were asked to also remove their bras, leaving their tits hanging. One other girl though this was enough and also stepped down. It was a little bit cold so that caused the exposed nipples of the six remaining blushing girls to be erect for every patron to see.

A man with a microphone approached one of the girls, followed by an assistant with two bricks in his hands. He asked: "Do your tits hurt when you are on your period?".

"Now that you ask, yes, they are very sensitive right now. They always get bigger during my period and that's very uncomfortable, as they feel like they are going to burst any minute. Please don't even touch them".

The assistant suddenly smashed one of her tits with the two bricks, causing her mammary to pop in a party of blood and GRASA. The girl screamed her lungs out and fell in the floor, bent in pain.

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That is some quality story. Grotesque throughout. I like how quickly it escalated from mildly uncomfortable to absolute batshit violent and the ending made me laugh. Keep it up!
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>>30377 Thank you!

Literature
Jackson Riordan sat by the window of the bus and stared blankly at the scenery whizzing by. Woodland, open field, woodland, the occasional glimpse of a farm building, then another stretch of forest. Two hours remained before the deadline to report to the local processing center.

The smartwatch on his wrist had pulsed red. That moment was burned into memory. The way his classmates stared. The slow walk up to the front of the class. Mister Evans the English teacher undoing Jackson's blazer, his belt, his trousers, his boxers until he stood nude. His girlfriend Stella had looked away when he walked past her towards the classroom door. In a daze, he sat through the counsellor meeting listening but not really hearing. Jackson was 14, a virtuoso with a baseball bat and captain of the Salmon Run High School Sockeye baseball team. Girl classmates would swoon if they caught his eye. He had a dream of going to the MLB. All of that potential ended the day the lottery had, through algorithmic randomization based on food supply and consumer demand input, chosen a different path for him.

Jackson Riordan, age 14, 5' 4", 112lbs, Animal ID code USDA-JR512724. His future was as a packet of steaks occupying a fridge at a Conversion Market meat aisle.

With each stop, more Animals boarded the bus. One meatgirl bounced into the seat next to Jackson. Puberty was midway through filling out her curves, her ginger curls bouncing alongside her rather sizable breasts as she chattered away. Her name was Jaimie, 14 years old. Either her well of bravado ran deeper than Jacksons', or she was just naturally optimistic. She was very convinced of her ability to gain a reclassification into "Companion Animal" status for some wealthy old man. Jackson imagined the "duties" Companion Animals had to perform, and couldnt help but feel his passenger had a very naive view of the role. He felt Jaimie's chest brush against his arm as she fiddled with the bus seat TV. She smelled of some faint rose perfume.

Minutes ticked over.

Some people could maintain their chipperness about being an Animal right up until they were sitting on the final bed they would ever sleep in, looking at the final bedroom they would ever use and realizing just how close they are to no longer existing. They would no longer animate the corporeal form they had inhabited for the past 12 or 13 or 14 or 24 years. No longer be able to sense anything, feel or touch or taste or smell or think.

Jaimie was sobbing. Hot tears dripped down and wet Jackson's thigh. He held her tightly. His father had instilled a belief in men being in control of their emotions. Yet, he too felt his stomach churn. Within days or even hours, he too would no longer exist in this world. Jackson's pale young skin sliced open. His internal organs removed, a blade slicing through his neck, blood draining and squirting past expert hands. He wondered morbidly whether one of his buddies from the baseball team would end up enjoying Jackson-meat tomorrow.

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15 posts omitted. Click Reply to view.
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Visual inspiration courtesy of https://www.pixiv.net/en/users/110020483
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>>29658
> The waitress had been called up for Conversion duty when Emilie was 3.
compared with
>>29966
< The way the old man had smirked when mom had come home nude, ... , milk dripping onto the tartan skirt of her school uniform.
Was Emilie already attending a preschool or is a uniform also worn in kindergarten?


>>29658
> Six days left to do everything she would ever want to do.
>>29966
< The thought of letting that old bastard use her again made Emilie want to puke.
What if she wants to kill the bastard? What punishment would she have to expect ‒ death sentence? :/

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>>30381
Unintended error, sorry about that. I tend to write these in a single sitting.

Emilie was suffering from a sense of ennui, more akin to depression. She resented her father, but her nihilistic outlook meant she could never muster up the courage to actively seek revenge.

Indeed, the System is not a universal one world government deal according to the original creator of this worldbuilding, Symbri.
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If she did kill her father she'd be hanged in public. Serious crime always end with public execution with different degrees of severity and pain depending on the crime.

Emile was abused, her actions were retaliatory, so she might even be beheaded as a form of mercy.
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Distribution Probability

Friday, March 10th.
6:34PM.

Region 12 Conversion Lottery Headquarters.

The office was half empty now. A few stragglers stared at the monitors glowing. New desktop PCs, still wrapped in plastic, were in the midst of being installed in the room next door. System Lottery Analyst Jess Han was one of the few still working.

He had aged out of Lottery eligibility the previous year, a fact that still bought a wave of relief washing over his shoulders whenever he felt the stress creep back up. Not that Jess would ever admit that happiness to anyone. While not illegal, it was still a societal belief that anyone who was...overly joyful about dodging the butcher's blade was looked down on as a shirk and the possessor of a serious moral failing. It would be especially looked down as he worked for the Lottery.

Jess stretched his fingers and yawned. There was a ping on his work groupchat application. He shifted his mouse cursor and clicked on the notification pop up.


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Literature
Hi all, I'm at a point with my expositional Sidney story where I could wrap it up (I have the ending written already) or add more if it's needed and so I need your help! If you are familiar with the world my stories take place in, comment below with any questions you have about Sidney herself so I can check if the story has already answered them or whether further chapters are needed! Thanks in advance and I love you all!
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>>30387
Hi :) Yes, totally open to others writing stories in my universe! There have been some great ones with ideas I have ended up adopting as canon. My only stipulation is that it is kept consensual. The idea of someone developing a new cooking method is intriguing for sure! Just to keep it within the universe if you're setting it early on, Roebuck Inc. have exclusive rights to processing girl-meat in the US for the first couple of decades so set your story in the UK or Europe 😊
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I remember fondly the story where a trio of students devised a new method of cooking girls alive by stuffing the lady in a box full of coals with only her head sticking out. They won a contest and all, and went to a cooking school. Any chance of that cooking method, or the protagonists, being featured again some day?
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>>30392
Oh yes! That was a fun one 😁 I guess there could be a camp site or something that offers it?
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>>30391
That's what I was planning on.
Your whole universe is centered around the idea that the girls becoming meat has to be a voluntary process. So anything non-consensual would have to be something illegal.
And I was thinking on placing it in the UK, which is, if I remember well, where Samantha's story happens. It was more or less inspired by the legal framework you talked about in that story.
I better get on writing then :P

>>30392
Oh yeah, I remember that one too. It was very sweet and I loved it.
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>>30404
I look forward to seeing what you come up with! 😁

Requests
Please help me!!!!!!!!!!! I've been looking everywhere for years and can't find any of his drawings. I only have the one in the attached pic. He did a lot of gory drawings, and one of my favorites was of naked women being burned to death. DOES ANYONE HAVE ANY OF HIS DRAWINGS?

Artificial Intelligence
I usually don't have a reason to do stuff like this, but everytime I wanna try and generate pantypoop/soiling stuff, one of the things I go to is to generate a generic girl that does the pantypooping.

My design for her is that she had medium-size breasts, brown hair and eyes, and a beanie, specifically orange, but my dumbass and horny brain decided to make a blue beanie girl, and now im stuck here wondering what to do naming them instead of referring to them by the color of their beanies

Like if I wanna refer to one of them, I call them sumn like "orange beanie" and it feels cumbersome and awkward to type. So here they are. What should I call them according to yall?

Artwork
:>

Artwork
Hello!Im new here, so I think we can get to know each other :)

Discussion
First things first: What I'm calling "GUROchan Chat 2", for lack of a more creative name, is my own personal project, not something sponsored by this website. My only mildly official status on this website is that I have been granted just enough admin power to mop up spam posts now and again. Beyond that, I'm just another user here.

Secondly, if you're never visited the GUROchan chat room, you might want to check it out. It's not a busy (or even active) place most of the day, so I can't promise you if you drop in that there will be anyone there to chat with, but when there are others hanging out, it can be a lot of fun.

For myself, however, (he said, trying to be diplomatic) I find the current chat room design a bit... er, primitive? Retro to an excessive degree? Of course, for some people that retro look-and-feel is a big part of image board culture. If that's your thing too, then the basic chat at https://chat.guro.cx/ is for you.

If you're like me, however, and want something a bit more up-to-date, a bit easier on the eyes, and with more user-friendly features, you might want to check out GUROchan Chat 2.

GUROchan Chat 2 is a different interface for the same conversation that takes place on GUROchan Chat Prime. Same messages. Same people chatting with each other.

The easiest way to use GUROchan Chat 2 is to simply go to https://chatproxy.chat/

Better integration with the original chat room, however, can be achieved by using Tampermonkey (available as a plugin for most browsers) and this userscript: https://chatproxy.chat/chat-mods.user.js

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Discussion
was wondering if we can create a thread specifically created for all the artworks be it 2d, 3d (like Koikatsu)or original works of this one the most tragically and unfairly executed girls
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I agree with this.
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>>21737
What a beautiful drawing, my goodness.

Requests
Need sources for some manga I found online
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All above from tumblr
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Share your best horror and gore manga. If it's gore, make sure there are no lolis.

File Sharing
Sometime in the 90ies someone had the bright idea to let BDSM & scat hentai artist Tomomi Sanjou draw a bunch of horror manga shorts for mainstream YA horror magazines. This is a collection of the technically non-pornographic but still wildly inappropriate results.

https://www.mediafire.com/file/kz4x7fn2013eo91/Tomomi+Sanjou+-+I+Want+to+Become+a+Dog+(ENGLISH).rar/file

178 pages, in English

All translated by me, except for chapter 2 ("In the Cavern"), which was translated by Slug Chicks a long time ago.
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Looks interesting.

Artwork
Do you have any

Literature
Slut.

There she stands, propped against a pole in the subway carriage. Perky nipples straining against the thin fabric of her tight white cropped top.

Head bowed towards her cell phone screen and earphones shutting out the outside world, her tits undulate invitingly as she giggles at the contents of whatever messages she's reading.

Most provocative is her stance: she steadies herself in the swaying carriage. Her creamy legs shoulder-width apart. The skin of her thighs seem to glow. Wrapped around her bum is the briefest pair of purple shorts. The crotch of the thin fabric clings to her mons like a second skin. A cleft is acutely visible to all, revealing the curves of her cunt lips.

Isn't she aware of the camel toe she's sporting?

Maybe she knows, but doesn't care.

Or maybe she wants people to look.

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4 posts omitted. Click Reply to view.
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Is it from dolcett? I know I've read it before, but I thought it was one that had been written on here a while ago
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Great story!
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Any sequel?
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What happened to this writer? Any more?
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I remember this story from years ago, and came across it again. Very, very dark but have enjoyed it more than a few times.

Discussion
Does anyone know where to find stories from Grendel on Ravishu? The site was taken down and a lot of stories were lost. There was stuff from Fiddykucker, someone else who used to write on Ravishu, so I was hoping there might be someone who still had access to Grendel's stuff.

Gore & Death
Newly flat-chested girls.
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Furry
Here’s a funny drawing with editing my favorite femboy, and adding my character getting their insides eaten (like what the title suggested LOL)
It’s my first time drawing gore, so apologize if the art doesn’t look extreme and good, but gotta start off somewhere :v
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Here’s a small edit I made from the same artist, simply from boredom. I am planning on making more edits, sometimes I might post non-gory stuff in this thread, so I hope the mid wouldn’t mind me post those types of craps lol

Gore & Death
Walled up and left to die.
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Requests
I need the sauce
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[Moriyama Toh] Rough & Ready
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>>19513
Thanks, sweetie

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