You're casting a magic spell, making a wish, it's magic that changes probability. Whatever negative thing you imagine, it will never happen again to anyone in this world. Not good people, not bad people, and it can't be forced on someone by another's will (so no executions or murders.)

There is no limit, so you can stop as many deaths or injuries as you want, it can be as specific as you want, you can also choose not to stop any deaths. There are reprucussions. If you say "no one should ever die" then you must also deal with the population.

===

I would say, I don't think anyone should ever become injured until their immobile, and die of hunger due to being unable to move.

Also, no one should ever wake up in a coffin, or be trapped under a rock slide or building, so that they're in an uncomfortable position, dying slowly. Especially, no one should wake up in a coffin unable to move.

Next, no one should have nervous system ailments which cause pain. Pain should only ever come from your body notifying you of an injury, it shouldn't exist as a glitch of your nerves. That must be unimaginably painful. Ideally, people would learn to use their will power to ignore or turn off pain which they're already aware of, like how you can't tickle yourself. In otherwords, things like pulling out a splinter or getting a shot shouldn't hurt (I think that's already basically possible with some pain management training.)

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Hi

Everyone I am open for comissions
15 per drawing
25 per manga page

you can visit my blog here, I accept pay pal



kekitokun.blogspot

is there pics of zombies that had pupiless white/Gray eyes instead of dead soulless eyes.
(pic related)

Autumn wept as she was lead into the room. A cold steel scaffold was erected in the back against the wall, it’s joints configurable so the bound victim could be moved and positioned in any number of ways. A video camera sat on a tripod pointed directly at it, it’s display open and a single red light blinking.

“Oh god, please” Autumn meekly teased out. Tears were streaming down her gentle cheeks from eyes concealed by lengthy bangs. “Please just kill me and get this over with.” she pleaded, but she knew in her heart it would be to no avail. She and the other girls were forced to watch the execution preceding their own, so she knew what horrors awaited her. Just yesterday, she had been taken to this exact room to find one of the other girls from her group strapped to this very scaffold. Over the course of several hours she watched in complete horror as the executioner slit open the poor girl’s abdomen and dumped her guts out between her legs. The screaming and crying and begging of the girl was now stamped on her brain. She cried all night and didn’t sleep for even a moment, her mind in shock from seeing such a tortured and drawn out death. They came for her the next morning.

The moment she saw which room they were taking her to Autumn began to cry and beg. She knew what was in store for her and she couldn’t even begin to imagine what the experience was going to be like. All she knew was that she had to stop it somehow, there was no way that was going to happen to her. But she couldn’t see a way to get out of it. She was handcuffed and deep within a facility she couldn’t even begin to guess the location of. She had no tools or resources, only the cuffs around her wrists and ankles and what little clothing they had been issued, which mainly consisted of a skin tight short sleeve crop top several sizes too small and similar tight shorts. The clothing had hardly been appropriate for the cold nights on the concrete floor of the girl’s cell and they had resorted to huddling together in as they slept for warmth.

As they began to unlock her cuffs, she briefly started thinking about running for the door, but the guards were careful and kept a tight grip on her, making sure to bind her feet to the scaffold before undoing her hands. The scaffold was arranged so that she was standing up with her feet spaced about a foot and a half apart and her arms strapped down by her sides. There were two handles just below the binds which she could grip and hold onto. The middle of the scaffold was extruded slightly, forcing her to push her belly out a bit.

“Oh god, please please please don’t do this to me!” she started tearfully screaming. “PLEASE! I’ll do anything you want, ANYTHING!”

She was completely ignored and her executioner continued to configure everything. Once she was fully strapped in, he adjusted her head strap so that it forced her to look down towards her abdomen. “Oh god.” she whimpered in horrible anticipation.

The executioner then took a red marker and traced a dotted line down her stomach from her sternum all the way down through her belly button and to her shorts. He then placed a frying pan on the floor between her legs, looked up at her with cold eyes and a smirk on his face, and began to finger her belly button. “Today you are going to become extremely familiar with the contents of this lovely belly of yours.” he whispered in her ear as tears streamed down her face. “Did you know you have over 25 feet of intestines coiled up in there? You saw what happened to the other girl so you know exactly what to expect. I hear the pain is just unfathomable, not to mention the gruesome sight of your own bowels hanging out the front of your bisected belly.”

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So, not my first story and not something I started last night. Been picking at this for at least two years now and figure that its as good as its gonna get without outside input. I am gonna be posting this elsewhere (4uckedinthehead on hentaifoundry and AO3.) I will tag as thoroughly as I can think to because theres gonna be a broad spectrum of fucked up in this story. That being said, I probably wont think of everything, so be forwarned. In general, the main themes are cannibalism, slavery, mindfuckery, torture, transformation and non/semicon.

Last thing, I have about another 50k words written, in about 20 chapters in varying stages of completion and polish. If anyone would like to speed up the otherwise glacial rate I will post, hmu [email protected]

If you found this note in a small wooden box with a heart on it, then *congratulations!* You are probably the first person to read this. I didnt really plan on sharing this with anybody, but for some reason I think its exciting that somebody out there, a complete stranger, will come across this note and read my story. Someone I will never meet, sharing such a personal bond with me. Im fascinated that either one of us could die - even as soon as tomorrow - with the other being completely clueless to the fact. To you, my entire life is within this note, and so I will live for as long as your memory can carry me. Writing this, Im wondering if that makes you feel fascinated or violated. Its so exciting.

Im sorry if my story is a bit disorganized, but Id like to get it down while its still fresh on my mind. First, Ill tell you a little bit about myself. Im a first-year college girl and have led, by most standards, a pretty unspectacular life up to this point. I grew up in an upper-middle class school district with decent teachers. I did track in middle school and some of high school, and Ive had two boyfriends. Now, Im studying for a career in occupational therapy, because I feel the field is undervalued and provides tremendous help to people.

Im giving you this background because theres this strange misconception that if you want to kill someone then youre either sick in the head or you have anger management issues. But, its very apparent that I dont fall into either of those categories. Its true that most murder cases are in a domestic setting where someone loses control of their anger or something. But the thing is that those people kill under provocation, whether by a singular outburst or by a slow-burning series of misfortunes. Those people kill because in that brief moment, they want a specific someone, for a specific reason, to be hurt or killed.

What Im talking about is wanting to kill someone for no specific reason, maybe just to see what its like. Do you ever get that? I wouldnt know how others feel, because its not something I ever talked about. But Ive been curious about what its like to kill someone ever since I was a child. Not killing anyone in particular, just a random person. Its always just fascinated me that if I put my mind to it, I can approach anyone, and in five minutes they would be completely gone from this Earth.

But Ive never done so for a couple of reasons. First of all, for most of my life it was logistically impossible for me to do it without getting caught. I only got my drivers license a couple years ago, and even then, the preparations would take too much time, definitely stirring suspicion. It was only once I started college that I realized this was no longer an obstacle.

Another reason is that I was afraid of causing harm to too many people. You might laugh reading that, at how hypocritical it sounds. But, let me explain: Why should I feel bad about killing someone if theyre too dead to care? Who would I be feeling bad for? Contrarily, its the grief of the living that Id rather not be responsible for. Because of this, I knew it would take a good deal of research before finding a suitable person to kill, and Ive never had the means to do so - again, until I started college.

And now, having just experienced it, Id say it was pretty satisfying in the end. Something I would try again? Probably not, since my curiosity has already been satisfied. It really wouldnt be the same a second time.

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The devils speak to me, though these worms. Sssomething makess them... good conduits for the spirits that pray to me.

Now I have a fine subject. He comes to and glances around, tries to move and realizes his predicament.
He had visions of this, and even now, in the midst of his intense whirling fear, he senses his own disturbed hope that he might enjoy it.
But his fear commands his voice, and a gag smothers it.

His limbs and face are all to be morphed. And so very pained...

My scalpel starts slow... running down his inner thigh, before I scoop some fat and sew in an ice cube. Not just any ice, but some freeze-dried gas-turned-solid super ice. It won't be lethal or put him into cardiac arrest, but it'll hurt, a lot.

Not as bad as the fire I run down the other leg's thigh. Just a run of the mill lighter. On a restrained man.

No need to tend to these wounds, I stroll to glass boxes of maggots. In what order was it? They go in last, I remember that. Their home must be prepped. And he must taste himself.

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Commission from a buddy of mine. If you want to commission anything from her, send an email: [email protected]
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Alyssa was, in simple terms, nothing short of eye candy-- and she knew it. Walking into the doors of Oceanside’s All Girls Preparatory Academy, she walked with a bounce in her step, and her boobs.

During school hours it was open warfare of the sexual appeal type. Her uniform, a white collared shirt with the school’s emblem on the left breast, was left unbuttoned and exposing cleavage, and her blue and black plaid skirt was just passing in terms of dress code. One could usually find her staring off absentmindedly in class, twirling a lock of her blonde hair around her finger and smirking to herself.

In fact, this type of arrogant and conceited behavior was one of the many things that caused an upstart in Sara’s hatred for her-- the final nail in the coffin was when her boyfriend confessed to cheating with the Oceanside Princess herself. Sara bitterly wondered if the same situation would have happened had she dressed less modestly, showed some more cleavage, and dyed her neatly styled black hair and side bangs platinum blonde. But even still, Sara could have moved on with her life and turned the other way, if not for what happened next.

At one point, not long after her boyfriend had split with her, in a fit of uncharacteristic rage (much different from her usual shy and calm demeanor) she approached Alyssa after class. It was just the two of them there. A few back and forth remarks to the blonde and Sara felt as if she was coming out on top in the word war.

"Hopefully this bitch’ll go and shoot her brains out if I say the right things," Sara recalled thinking to herself at that moment. But whether it was from the adrenaline of the situation, or the rice and beans she had eaten for lunch, her stomach began to bubble.


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This may be long shot but you don't know if you don't try. I'm looking for someone who can draw, or animate to work on Waifu Wars with. Sadly I have no money to commission with so it would be out of the charity of your heart but if you'd like to give it a shot I'd be immensely grateful. My kik is Death Fetish777 and my Discord Vice Dark Lord#0926. If your interested I'd love to here from you and your fight ideas and I have a few of my own

pls anyone know this artist

I'm sorry for delaying so much with Death Arts Competition, but a free artist basically do what they want hahaha. This one at least does not have a hard story line. Chapter 2 is already done, i'll release it in a few days, one week at most.
DeviantArt: http://www.hentai-foundry.com/stories/user/CuteAndHurting/21296/Sanae-and-Life-Statues/54744/Chapter-1/Valentines-Day-Cookies-and-Tea
HentaiFoundry: http://www.hentai-foundry.com/stories/user/CuteAndHurting/21296/Sanae-and-Life-Statues/54744/Chapter-1/Valentines-Day-Cookies-and-Tea

Stories about experiences of Sanae and her friend and mentor Daichi: hunting girls, violating them, turning them to stone, to life statues. Chapters are not time-linear.
...a life statue’s posture and experience is supposed to represent an eternal state, one lyric, or one word, or one verse with a meaning.

Sanae and the Life Statues

Chapter 1 - Valentine’s Day Cookies and Tea

It was evening before Valentine's Day. The plain cute long-haired 9th grader Yuki had anxiously been preparing the kitchen. Bowls, mixers, Flour, sugar... Pepper? Anything that might be used to make the Valentine's Day Cookies for a boy you like. There was only one thing she didn't have were cookie cutters, but Sanae promised to bring them. ‘What if she forgets them?’ was the thought that made Sanae depressed, but didn't make her stop. ‘I must prepare everything’ she thought as she repeatedly kept on checking and moving the cookie equipment, ingredients and just cleaning the kitchen. In other words, making the environment as suitable for cooking as it could be.


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This one's a work in progress but I thought I'd Post Part 1 since it's fairly self contained.

Ruki at the Snuff Club

(Digimon, peril, exhib, posing, public, gun, eventual snuff)

	

"And where we have the main hall Miss Rumiko, as mentioned in our contract, what you are to see and hear today is the strictest of privacy, and highly illegal, so any info leaked would heavily incriminate you as well. We'l set you up as we go, but if you'd just sign this paper work" Ruki looked on fascinated at the club surrounding her as their guide talked. It was incredible, at first glance the club looked like a regular old style gentlemen's smoking club, wooden walls, heads mounted on teh walls, and men smoking in plush chairs. But after a second Ruki noticed the rest of the picture, the heads on the wall weren't form animals, they were from women, and aside from men conversing and smoking there were naked women all around, some in elaborate contraptions that Ruki couldn't exactly figure out the purpose of.

	

"Wait, you said Illegal? And those heads on the wall there..." Ruki trailed off.

	

The guide looked up surprised, "You mean your mother didn't tell you? This is a snuff club, it's a place for men, and a few women, to enjoy killing other women." He paused. "You're here as your mother's 'Master' today, since she wasn't allowed to use the premises without one and for some reason she didn't agree to be under the general care of the club."

	

Ruki's mouth gaped open. "Wait, you mean this is really a palce where they kill people?" slowly Ruki looked around realizing the purpose of some of the devices, at least one or two, she could see a woman strapped against the wall her breasts painted like a dart board, and another woman with her breasts hovering over what Ruki now realized was a portable grill. There was even a guillotine, though it wasn't currently being used. and those were only the devices Ruki could Identify.


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It's long overdue, but my newest story is finally finished. Real life has gotten in the way lately, I've moved to a new place and not had much time left to write. I'm still writing, so more stories are on the way but I won't make any promises about when they'll be finished. But at least you can enjoy this one!

(I didn't put tags in the subject line because I think it will spoil the story, but I think the average GuroChan reader will know what they're getting into.)

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The last day of my life had come. At the age of thirteen I was standing on a stage in the middle of town with the guillotine in front of me and my hands tied behind my back. The new government was tyrannical and purely evil, and my father had been one of its most outspoken critics for quite a while. That was until a month before that day, when armed police stormed our house in the middle of the night and took the whole family away. We were separated and I hadn’t seen any of them since. I assumed they were all dead, as I would soon be. After a short ‘trial’ I’d been sentenced to death, but they didn’t know I still had one trick up my sleeve.

Apart from me there were two people on the stage, the judge who had sentenced me and the executioner who would carry out the sentence. The judge spoke for what seemed like an eternity, rambling on about opposing the state and ruining the country. The people in the crowd that had gathered around the stage seemed pretty bored, after all they had come to watch an execution, not a speech. The executioner stood beside me, watching my every move as if he thought I was going to escape. He was tall and muscular, and I was terrified of him. Whatever I did, I didn’t want to be in harms way of that man. The judge was less terrifying, but he was really old and had a cynical, evil look in his eyes that could send chills down anyone’s spine. Just as the people in the audience looked like they might fall asleep any second the judge finished his speech and turned around to look at me.

“So, young woman, do you have any last words?” He said.

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Honor Among Thieves

Part One – A Thief’s End

(Non Con, Stabbing Gutting)

Hidden in the back of an alley behind a stack of crate sat Petra, her thin frame pressed against the wall, chest heaving as she panted for air. Her body was cloaked in sweat, a testament of the eight miles she had just ran though the city, taking every detour, secret passage or dark alley, she knew just to be safe. Then again considering who she had just crossed she felt even that might not be enough.
Reaching down the front of her shirt she caught hold of a string that was looped around her neck. Pulling it out she gazed at the small golden object hanging, light glinting off of it which each turn it made.

The thief lords signet ring… To be honest it didn’t really look that impressive…

you would think someone called the thief lord would be able to afford more than just a simple gold ring.


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This thread exists so that I link drawings to my stories in /lit. You can find the stories which go with these images here:
www.gurochan.cx/lit/res/13649.html

I have an archive of it, but only the first few posts, though I remember there were more. Does anybody have a complete archive or anywhere I can find this story?

Anthro-dom on human-sub rape. Preferably straight but anything goes.

Anyone know what manga this is from?

where is Battlefan artwork ? it was in year 2008 on gurochan, but where is it now ?

Battlefan Mom Anna vs evil Blonde... .

Hoping that this is the right place to post this, legit cannot think of anywhere else.

INTRODUCTION
Farming humans is an art and a science. Converting an independent human into a baby-making machine is a long and drawn out process. This is a summary of how it works, from start to finish. Today, we follow Zoe, a 19 year old who has been acquired for processing.

THE UNIT
Women converted into breeding machines are referred to as units. Zoe, once in the custody of the farm, is referred to as Unit 29. 29 is Chinese in ethnicity, only about four foot ten inches and one hundred ten pounds. Her breasts are roughly 250cc and her buttocks are medium to large size. She has an average amount of body fat mostly concentrated in the thighs, abdomen, and buttocks.

RECEPTION
Once 29 arrives, she is immediately stripped to her underwear. She is escorted to the operating theater to prepare her body for permanent breeding. After being restrained with leather belts, several key procedures are made. First, both her breasts are injected with Ipolactide, a drug manufactured by the farm to keep lactation constant for the next forty-odd years. An early side effect will be increased sexual and physical stimulation. Immediately, her pupils dilate and she begins to breathe heavily. It will only last thirty or forty minutes. Then, her chest and torso are opened up. She is awake, but the Ipolactide combined with other local anesthetics make her virtually oblivious to the surgery. First, her fallopian tubes are reinforced with a very thin nanocarbon lining to keep them from damage in the breeding process. Then, her liver is removed. This is primary to make room for an electronic hormonal regulator, but also to make 29 dependent on the farm. Without a liver, she will not survive on her own for twenty four hours. Once these processes are complete, she is given a brief shower and led to where she will spend the rest of her fertile life.

SEATING
29 will be stored and operated in breeding pad 29. This is a small, closet sized inlet with a plastic chair in the center and electronic equipment mounted on all the walls. These machines all have an assortment of wires, tubes, pads, and plugs hanging out of them. A heart rate monitor, a medication administrator, an ultrasound, a dialysis machine, a nutrition regulator, and more. They will be 29’s life source. The seat is capable of mechanically swiveling into a bed during birth and is hinged at 29’s hips. Mounted near the center are two small phallic shaped devices to be inserted into 29’s anus and vagina to limit hip movement, impregnate her and support her as she sits. 29 is told to remove her underwear, and as she strips she touches clothing for the last time. She slowly sits down onto the phalluses, wincing as they penetrate deep into her. It is uncomfortable. She is strapped by the ankles and wrists onto the chair, and a third strap is placed over her waist. She is ready for the next few hours in which she would become part of the chair and part of the farm.

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