April's Soup Selfie

	

“Thank you very much for volunteering to help Miss O'Neil.” Chef Murakami said as he and April entered the kitchen of his restaurant.

	

“It's no problem at all Murakami-san.”April admitted with guilty pleasure. Her intentions in helping weren't exactly pure-hearted after all. “So, what do you want me to do?” She asked, as she closed the door to the dining area behind her.

	

“First, I have regular customer coming in, he loves Sushi! So go to refrigerator and get fish!” Murakami asked making his way to the counter to prepare a cutting board and suitable knife.

	

As soon as Murakami's back was turned, April shucked off her t-shirt, revealing the fact that despite a sizable set of breasts for her age, the redhead wasn't wearing a bra. April dropped the shirt to the floor and kicked it under another counter, a guilty thrill passing through her at the action. This was why she had volunteered to help Mr. Murakami.

	

“So what's next?” April asked Chef Murakami as she snapped another selfie on her phone of herself leaning against the kitchen counter, completely naked. April grinned as another illicit exhibitionistic thrill hit her as she looked at it. The sheer excitement if being naked right beneath Chef Murakami's nose was building in her and April wanted more.

	

“Next dish is Turtle Soup!” Murakami announced to his helper as he placed the large soup tureen on the burner. April blinked as she saw it, the pot was huge! Big enough to fit her entire body inside if she squeezed a bit. April had a hard time pulling her gaze away from it as chef Murakami filled it with broth and turned on the flames beneath it.

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New series posting here.

/lit should not be pruned at 10 pages... I mean, they're text, what's the big deal for the storage?

All things relating to vagina-related pain. It can be anything, whether it be cutting, impaling, biting, or simple cunt busting, etc.!

what about this so called pastel guro , is that a thing or what ?

All images were made by Donkboy.

Hi all, I'm curious about where your urges originated and what formed them over time, for those of us who remember.

I'll start with myself: to the very edge of what I can remember, I've had detailed fantasies. Even ages under 8 I would read those cartoon-illustrated kids' books and wish that "big bad bear" caught all those innocent woodland creatures and mutilated them alive, not sure why. Over time and as I was exposed to gore/death in media I became leathery and interested, and here I am today seeking the filthiest of filth.

Feel free not to care about my life story :P but regardless I'm curious about y'all! And as a side note I've heard speculation about gore thirst being on the rise with movies like Saw, Final Destination, etc.

Please indulge me! :)

Uuugh, my story fell off the end of the list again. I continue to patiently await the day the staff get around to changing /lit/ to not do that, hint hint nudge nudge wink wink stab stab.
In the meantime, enjoy reading this story again as one massive wall of text with no formatting! xP

THE VILLAGE AND THE GIRL WITH THE VISION

Tonight was the night - I could feel it in my gut. The night I’d finally go all the way with her. We’d been flirting off and on for weeks, and gone out a couple times, but never really done anything. But after the sickeningly romantic events of this evening, it was all but inevitable.
The minute school had ended, we had met up and spent the late afternoon going through every attraction the town had to offer, ending with a picnic of sorts under the waning spray of Mount Eri. It wasn’t really a mountain - people just ended up calling it that - but rather a geyser that erupted like clockwork twice every day, so regularly the villagers had come to use it to tell time. While the water coming out was extremely hot at the beginning, after a few minutes of erratic bursts it would lose some of its power, and by the time the water droplets had drifted through the air and returned to the ground they were at a very pleasant warmth. In the current situation it was making both of us feel very aroused.
“The food’s gone soggy,” I commented casually.
“So it has. I guess we didn’t really think this through,” responded my girlfriend.
“Guess we might as well do something else.”
I’d said exactly what she wanted to hear and I knew it. Within moments the ruined snacks had been swept away and I found myself lying flat on my back under her. Her hands began to wander across my naked skin, exciting me even more than the tickle of the water droplets had. One found its way to my face, while the other drifted down, lower and lower, across my belly and toward my legs.
One hand brushed against my eyelash while the other was beginning to probe my crotch, when suddenly she drew back in horror.
“You! You haven’t… What am I doing?” she exclaimed, aghast. “You haven’t blossomed!”

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I got this idea recently and I quite liked it, so I thought I'd toss it out here and see if we can get some people to play. The rules are as basic as it gets: majority vote, in case of a tie I flip a coin or something; write-ins generally allowed and will be considered if they get substantial support (or I really like the idea).

Here's the twist, though. The point isn't so much 'winning' the story, as it is repeatedly encountering ways to die gruesomely; not unlike I Wanna be the Guy or Demonophobia, as interactive fiction. (I was half tempted to keep this part secret at first but I didn't want to piss off people coming here expecting a long and dramatic story.)

The first story I write without translator. I hope it works! I am not an expert but I think it sound a little bit more solid this way… ;)


The Live of Number 562.

Today is her day! She knows not much but you never forget your own big day! After all, 562 have fulfill her training last month. 562 is small and hasn’t much meat but she helps herself with her naturally cuteness. With her smooth skin and nature red hair, she gets through all big test. This makes her happy, because she wants to be a “full body”. After all, all want to be “full body”. Girls that’s are not cute enough become just parts. For the first time in her live, she allowed to wear the maid uniform, every meat girl wears if her day comes. The day, when customers can order you.
Her first customer want a girl with a little bit more meat. The second one search for a blonde girl… But with the new pair, at table 3, she has a good feeling.
“I am 562. I will be happy to be your main dish!” She speaks her text. She never forgets this, because the teachers hit you, if you make a failure.
“She looks to young and unexperienced. I think we better take another girl” The Woman of the pair say.
562 explain friendly. “I’m trained for 7 years. I have learned everything, you need to know as a meat girl.”
“Look at her, I am sure, she makes a great spit roast.” The men say.
“You sure? I not see much meat at her body…” the women say skeptical.
The men already sound confident. “look how cute she is, I’m absolutely sure!”

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Hi guys, just a quick little story this time.

Caroline was sitting alone in a sterile, tiled room in the local meat processing plant. She was just minutes from death, the excitement made her pulse rise and her breathing became fast and shallow. She had been expecting this for some time, more than half of her friends had been taken away during the last couple of months and Caroline had figured out that one day they would come for her too. A truck had come to her house early in the morning, and two uniformed men had knocked on the door and informed her parents that their oldest daughter had been selected for processing, and had to come with them immediately. Within a couple of minutes Caroline had been woken up, gotten dressed, and said goodbye to her whole family. At the processing facility she had been stripped, washed and shaved before being placed in a room to await her execution. There were many others there, and they were collected in groups of four at a time. Caroline had watched group after group leave the room, until only five remained. After some time four more names were called, but not hers. The four others left, and after the door closed she was alone.

The room was eerily quiet. Caroline tried to calm herself down and focused on taking long, deep breaths. Her mind drifted off and all kinds of thoughts filled her mind. She wondered what dying would be like. She had heard that it was painful and frightening, but she had also heard rumours of pleasant, even erotic deaths. The young girl had recently discovered the pleasure she could get from her own body, and had lately masturbated almost every night before going to sleep.

Her hands were resting in her lap, but somehow they found their way to her crotch. Her fingers traced the area around her outer labia and she was enjoying the sensation of a completely bare pussy. She had never shaved it before, after all it had only recently started growing, but she liked the feeling. Slowly she moved to her outer lips, moving her hand up and down its length and slipping a finger between her outer and inner lips. She moved even further in, gently massaging her inner lips and the area around her clit. Caroline licked her fingers and coated them with her saliva, before moving her hand to her pussy again, rubbing it in with her spit. After a little while she could feel her own lubrication coming from her vagina. She knew she was ready, and inserted a finger, working it in and out, slowly but firmly. The other hand focused on her clit, occasionally moving up to her chest to caress her small, budding breasts. Her arousal was growing by the second, and not long after the first finger went in she was ready for one more. She put her middle and ring finger together and put them at her opening, inserting them ever so slowly, savouring the feeling of every millimetre being stuffed into her pussy. It felt so good!

Suddenly, just as Caroline had gotten as much of her fingers as she could inside her, the door opened. A man entered, and Caroline pulled out her fingers and straightened herself up as fast as she could. She was sure he had seen what she had been doing, but he didn’t mention it.

“Caroline, right?” he asked, and Caroline nodded. “I’m Christopher, now it’s just you and me. Don’t worry, it will be over quickly and if you do everything right, it won’t hurt. Now come with me.”

He walked out the door, and Caroline followed him. The gravity of the situation suddenly hit her, and she started shaking. Christopher was walking with fast steps, and Caroline was somehow not able to follow him. He noticed, turned around and spoke to her.

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Posting random short stories here.

I haven't written in awhile, and I wasn't that great the last time I tried either. So any feedback to help me improve is welcomed.

---

Sarah emerged from Larissa's cunt with a face dripping with pussy juice "Okay! It's my turn to get eaten out!" She repositioned herself so that she was laying on her back with her legs spread wide open, and her right hand holding up her black miniskirt to display her nicely shaved cunt.

Katie, currently sitting on Larissa's face having her own cunt munched on, responded, "As soon as Larissa... oh... is finished with me I'll do you." Katie was close to cuming, but Sarah was impatient.

"Oh come on baby! Eat me now!" Sarah pouted, parting her pussy lips as a tease.

"Horny are we... ugh" Katie's response was cut short when a man entered the room with a gun drawn and fired a bullet into her head. Katie collapsed onto the bed with blood steadily pouring from the small hole, soaking her hair and the fabric of the mattress; piss sprayed from her pussy onto Larissa's face, who didn't respond to the situation fast enough. As soon as she tasted the warm urine emptying from her dead friend's bladder she scrambled off of the bed, but barely made it an inch towards the door before the gunman put three bullets into her lower back. She hit the floor in agony, but before she could scream the man pressed the gun against the back of her head and put her out of her misery.

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Panic and horror were being washed away from Simon’s mind by an itching despair and a painful yearning to accept what has happened to him. The desire to make peace with what he was going through was searing his mind. He felt like peace was just one more step away, but hope was pulling him back relentlessly, gently strangling him with its caring hands.

It felt like many years have passed since the day when Simon was an ordinary man living an ordinary life. Once again he tried to remember the last day of that life. He was hanging on to every detail, looking if there was something he missed or forgot, anything that could be a hint to what was about to happen to him. But no, it was an ordinary cup of coffee, those were his colleagues having an ordinary conversation about football, a usual fake smile on the TV screen in the cafeteria, those were the usual buttons he pressed in the elevator… It was a very usual day, and that memory was fading away, losing its colors, turning to ashes as it was smoldering in his mind.
Simon was surrounded by darkness, in most literal and horrifying sense of the word. He felt like his feet weren’t touching anything, neither did he feel anything keeping him suspended above ground. He could move his hands and feet freely, but he couldn’t see them or figure out why he didn’t feel his own touch on his skin. The sensation that his body is made of gas was so unnatural and scary that Simon would spend hours, convincing himself that he exists. His mind was a slowly sinking ship in an endless sea of madness, and he knew, that even if by some miracle his life would return to normal he will never be who he was again.

He tried to pinch himself, bite his tongue, break his finger, poke his eye, anything that would make him feel something, anything that would keep him from going back to pointlessly rummaging in his memories. But his movements were so slow and weak he’d hardly be able to push a crumpled piece of paper in zero gravity. The fact that he was still breathing was one of the most disturbing things he was rediscovering again and again. He was trying to scream, but either he was too weak to make any sound or the ominous void around him was absorbing the sound before it was coming out from his lungs. At some point he realized he can’t even hear his own heartbeat.

Sometimes Simon would just stare into the endless blackness when his mind got too exhausted to shuffle thoughts around, he was falling to a short shallow sleep to recover barely enough energy to continue rolling down the spiral of madness. Maybe he died? And what if he didn’t die properly? What if this is what they call afterlife and there really is a god, as petty and vile, as religious teachings describe him, and now he’s punishing Simon for living his life like any normal modern man would?

There was no way to tell how much time has passed since Simon found himself inside that void. There was no way to tell how much would it take before he’d become one with it. But suddenly something changed. It started when Simon felt his teeth with the tip of his tongue, then the darkness in front of him was torn apart by a blinding light that grew from a slim crack in the seemingly undefeatable and eternal nothingness. As the light was mercilessly banishing the cosmic darkness, purest joy and happiness were washing away all the pain and despair from Simon’s mind. He felt as if he was reborn and was overflowing with a childishly pure love to everything that came to existence from the light that came to his rescue.

When the euphoria started to let go, Simon’s ability to assess his surroundings began to come back. He realized he was naked and wet to the bone. His hands, feet and torso were firmly fixed on some metal cross-like contraption. When his eyes got used to the light he looked around and realized he was inside a big round room with a white floor and ceiling. The device he was shackled to stood on a podium, right on its center. The walls were covered with large flat screen monitors. Simon tried to focus his sight on them and realized they were all showing him, from different angles. Only then he noticed lots of cameras hanging from the ceiling along with other devices of unknown use and that he was wearing an oxygen mask on his face. His excitement started to recede. A sense of worry was crawling up his spine followed by pulsating uneasiness that was harder to ignore with every passing second. He looked down and saw a chaotic web of cables, cords and tubes connected from all sides to the device that was holding him.


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Which fantasy setting do you prefer for your necrophilia fantasies?

A. A crime scene where the body is found.

B. The morgue where the body is kept to determine how the person died.

C. The funeral home where the body is prepared for the funeral and burial.

D. The graveyard where the body is laid to rest.


For me, I like the first three options equally for my fantasies while option D would only be good for the evening of the day of the burial or else the corpse would be too decomposed to be of use for me.

Ok, I feel a little awkward asking for help and describing my problem because most of you seem to get along with your sexual orientation and are at relative peace with it.
Also my english skills are not top notch(I'm german) so please cope with me.
Let's cut right to it. I'm not good at telling stories.
I love fapping to this stuff. Cute, sexy and innocent girls being slaugthered like dirty animals, tortured with no regret, snuffed, mutilated all the good stuff. I don't have to explain it to you.
Ironically, this is also what hurts me the most. Their despair, the cruelty, insensitivity of the offender and all that injustice. It feels so fundamentally wrong yet this is the exact reason why it gets me off so good.
It doesn't matter btw whether it's "just a drawing" and "not reality" as some people say. Art causes emotion. It's why we consume it I guess.
Even now just thinking about it I'm trembling. Those thoughts translate to physical pain sometimes when they're really strong. Reading your thoughts and how you feel about ryona/snuff/guro/etc. on this board for example is enough to trigger extreme arousal mixed with equally strong disgust.
Then there's hate. Hate for you and maybe myself. No offense. I really like you guys and how we share this fetish, but I can't control how I feel. Sometimes, when I'm done fapping I go full crawling mode and just wish you and every person on the planet with similar sexual interests was dead.
I know this is not the way though. I want to be loving, kind and understanding. It's this contradiction you know? And you all manage to accept who you are and what you like so casually.

Have you experienced this? What do you think? How can I cope with it? Do I need therapy?
Maybe talking to people like you irl would help? Do you have any idea how to meet them?

Thank you. This has been haunting me for years. And please don't be offended. I don't mean to do that at all.

Why? I'm not judging but seriously, why do you find shit hot? I really want to know how this is attractive.

Missing thread /lit
http://www.gurochan.cx/lit/res/7245.html

Invasion: Diner

It was approaching ten in the evening, but the small diner was full of activity. Surrounded by trees, nestled at the foot of the hill, it would take a keen eye to spot it from the highway as the tarred road ascended the hill. The location could have been better, but during the day the diner drew in enough customers to keep afloat, daylight helping to make the signs leading to it more noticeable.

As it was holiday season, the number of customers was usually quite low as people left for the coast and the national parks. It was rare for evenings to be a busy time, which is why the manager had left the diner with only one cook and one waitress. Serving 12 customers with such a skeleton staff was a difficult task, but they were up to the task.

Tami Patel was a university student, her mother having insisted that she get a part-time job in order to get experience. Tami’s submissive personality did not allow her to argue, but the job itself was not that bad. Unfortunately that same personality had also not let her argue with the manager, resulting in a hectic night as she worked to serve all of the customers. She moved gracefully around the diner, her Indian heritage clear in her dusky skin, cheerful brown eyes and shoulder length black hair. A sweet smile was on her face as she delivered orders, her baggy black and red uniform hiding any possible curves.

Next to the door sat the Bartlett family. All four were tired and hungry, having spent the better part of the day in the hospital. Josh Bartlett had had what he had thought to be a heart attack, but tests had ruled that out as a possible cause for his crushing chest pain. The doctors thought he had had a panic attack and he had been discharged, having been told come back in a few days for additional tests.

All of the Bartletts had short cropped brown hair, except for 6 year old Vicky, whose long brown hair was tied into a ponytail. Vicky and Anna both wore dresses, the girl’s a pale blue and her mother’s a white one with a print of pink and blue flowers. Anna’s green eyes were shared by Adam, her 8 year old son. He was dressed in blue shorts and a green T-shirt, contrasting with the formal blue trousers and collared white shirt of his father, who shared his blue eyes with his daughter.

Further along sat Claire St. James and her boyfriend Edward Stresny. The teenagers had dropped in for a bite, hungry after the concert that they had attended. Edward was dressed in ‘camouflage’ pants and a grey T-shirt, his orange dyed hair shaped into a Mohawk with spikes. His brown eyes were focused on the sliver of cleavage revealed by his girlfriend’s loose blue T-shirt. Her ass was clad in tight denim, her pale grey eyes excited by the effect her shirt was having on him, her long straw blond hair tied into a ponytail, two small nose studs glinting in the diner’s interior lights.

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Contrary to what I thought, I just finished another story and I thought I could share it here until I have my site up and running (its not that easy to find a good host for something like this, especially as I want to start adding the photos I use as reference...). As always, if you read it, please leave a comment and let me know what you think.

tags: M/f, MMM+/f, non-cons, teen, first, rape, anal, throating, prostitution, bagging, snuff

disclaimer: This story is entirely fictional, along with all characters and events described in it. Any resemblance with real life is just a coincidence. Harming another human being is wrong and in no way I am trying to convey the opposite. Please, don't do anything like this!

---

I nervously checked the time one more time, but the time was still the same. One more minute, and the day was over. On the front of the classroom, Ms. Campbell was trying to explain how to solve for X in the equation she had copied in the blackboard, but I wasn't really paying attention

When the bell finally rang, all the students jumped out of their seats, wanting to be the first out.

“Remember that you have to finish the exercises in pages 33 and 34 by Monday, and it wouldn't be a bad idea to start preparing for the exam on Friday!” she said, raising her voice above the noise, but no one was paying her any attention

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I came and it wasn't my vomit, I'm willing to answer your questions if you have any (as I noticed there are many anons asking about irl scat experiences and such).