Lily's Story - The Playground

The fog was thick enough to swallow streetlights whole, turning the campus paths into pale tunnels of sodium glow and shadow. Lily had already been walking for almost two hours—same slow, deliberate circuit she’d been tracing almost every restless night for weeks. The oversized charcoal hoodie hung open down the front, unzipped to her navel; beneath it the sheer white micro bikini was already drenched, not from rain but from the steady leak of her own arousal. The triangular patches had long since turned transparent, framing dark, swollen areolas and clinging to the puffy outer lips of a cunt that refused to close all the way anymore.

She was 5'2" of compact, exaggerated curves: narrow waist, heavy C-cups that jiggled with each step, wide fertile hips and a plump ass that rolled visibly under the thin fabric. Weeks of escalating exposure games—public edges, toys left in too long, deliberate stretching—had left her perpetually puffy, perpetually slick, and perpetually unsatisfied. Tonight the familiar ache had sharpened into something crueler: a deep, animal need to be filled, to feel something massive hold her open until her mind cracked. The little vibes and plugs she usually carried weren’t enough anymore. She wanted ruin-level fullness. She wanted to feel her own body give up.

She wasn’t looking for anything in particular. Just walking. Letting the night air lick the wetness on her inner thighs, letting the occasional security light catch the sheen on her mound, letting the risk of being seen keep her clit throbbing. The circuit usually took her past the rec center, the redwood grove, the empty bus stops. Tonight, restless and unsatisfied, she drifted farther than usual—past the new student housing construction zone, through a gap where the chain-link fence had been pried back and never repaired.

She didn’t notice the change at first. Then the shapes resolved out of the mist: peeling blue paint, cold galvanized steel, the skeletal remains of an abandoned outdoor fitness course scheduled for demolition. Balance beams half-rotted, parallel bars sagging, and—-dead center—-a tall pull-up station. Three horizontal bars. One thick vertical support post running through the middle. Three full inches in diameter. Smooth rounded cap on top.

Lily stopped breathing for a second.

The post rose well past the highest bar, terminating in that blunt steel dome maybe eight inches above the rail. It looked industrial, merciless, exactly the kind of thing that could finally satisfy the screaming void inside her tonight.

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I kicked the classroom door shut behind me with a lazy heel, the bang echoing down the empty hallway like a gunshot nobody gave a shit about. Third period was over, kids had scattered like roaches when the lights flick on, and I’d told the last stragglers to fuck off early. The room still smelled faintly of teenage sweat, cheap body spray, and the chalk dust that never quite settles. Mine now.
Lena was already bent over the supply cabinet in the back, ass up like she thought the black leather skirt would hide how much she wanted it noticed. Goth assistant, my personal little shadow for the last six months. Medium tits pushed against a ripped fishnet top, silver rings through both nipples glinting every time she breathed. Black lipstick smeared just enough to look like she’d already been face-fucked once today. Probably had.
I leaned against the teacher’s desk, arms crossed, watching her pretend to organize markers.
“Yo, Morticia,” I called. “You gonna keep wiggling that pale ass at me or actually do something useful?”
She straightened slow, dramatic, the way goths do when they think they’re in control. Turned. Smirked. “Sir, I’m cataloging your dry-erase carnage. Very useful.”
“Catalog this.” I unzipped, pulled my cock out, already half-hard from the walk over just thinking about what I was gonna do to her. “Get over here and wrap those pierced tits around it. Let’s see if the metal makes it sting nicer.”
Her eyes flicked down, then back up. Tongue darted across black lips. “Thought you’d never ask.”
She crossed the room in those clunky platform boots, dropped to her knees without being told. Good girl. Always was when it came to dick. She cupped her tits, squeezed them together so the nipple rings kissed, then slid my shaft between the warm, soft valley. The metal clicked against skin. Cold at first, then warming fast as she started pumping.
“Fuck yeah,” I muttered, grabbing a fistful of her dyed-black hair. “Look at you. All spooky makeup and razor-blade jewelry, but you’re still just another tit-fuck hole with a pulse. Bet those rings are the only thing keeping your nipples from falling off after how many times I’ve twisted ’em.”
She moaned around the compliment, tongue flicking the head every time it poked through the top of her cleavage. “You love it, sir. You love breaking the pretty ones.”
“Damn right.” I yanked her head back hard enough that her neck popped. “But today I’m not breaking pretty. Today I’m breaking useless.”
I hauled her up by the hair, spun her, slammed her chest-down across the wide teacher’s desk. Papers scattered. A coffee mug hit the floor and shattered. Didn’t care. I ripped the fishnet top down the middle—easy, already half-torn—and those pierced nipples popped free. Dark areolas, stiff from the cold air and the fear she was trying to hide behind bravado.
“Hands behind your back.”

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writing with KI/AI

"Have you ever wondered what it feels like?" Ginny's voice was unnervingly calm, her fingers tracing the rough grain of the wooden table in the Great Hall. The morning light cut through the high windows in sharp, dusty beams, catching the edges of plates left half-finished.

Harry glanced up from his untouched porridge, frowning. "What *what* feels like?"

"Being weightless," she said, tilting her head just slightly, like she was listening to something distant. "Not flying—not like on a broom. I mean really weightless. Like nothing’s holding you down at all."

Hermione, seated across from them, set her book down with a soft thud. Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t interrupt.

The silence stretched. Somewhere near the Slytherin table, a fork clattered against a plate, and the sound made Harry flinch. He hadn’t slept well. None of them had. The castle had been too quiet lately, the kind of quiet that felt deliberate, like the stones themselves were holding their breath.

"Ginny," Harry started, then stopped. He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. The way she was looking at him—not quite *at* him, but through him—made his skin prickle.

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Well, after a very long absence, here I am. Let's see how many of you remember me...

I am posting a new story I just finished, so I hope you like it. I am only posting the first part out of three, though, and if there is enough interest in it, I might post the next one in a few days.

Puppy Love
tags: M/f, MMM+/f, semi-cons, first, throating, bondage, incest, gangbang, humil, pet, meat girl, noose, roasting, snuff

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"Sweet pea, did you bring everything I told you?" my father asked me before he closed the door to our room.

"Yes dad, I did." I answered a moment later, trying not to sound too annoyed.


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I got stuck half way down a long story, so I wanted to try something easier for a while. It ended up being a little longer than planed, and it probably needs a little more work, but I think you might enjoy it.

Also, this is my first decapitation story, a fantasy that I am enjoying quiet a lot now.

As always, let me know what you think if it (good or bad)!

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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!

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The taxi driver kept looking at me through the mirror as I squirmed on my seat, the making it even harder to concentrate, but there was little I could do about it. I gritted my teeth in frustration and then another wave hit me. Desperate not to scream, I bit my lower lip, but a weak moan managed to escape.

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After this site came back up, I saw it on the bottom of /lit/ last updated in 2008? I tried to bump it, but recieved an error. Refreshed /lit/ and saw that it was gone. Is there a backup or mirror of that story and/or its comments?

My very first story! I hope it's good ^^

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"Nanette!"

The short plump girl turned her head, smiling at her new friend bouncing up and down with excitement.

"Aria! What is it?"

"The exhibition! They've posted the sign-up list on the board! Come on!"

Nanette let her friend pull her by the wrist towards the school news board.

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Karin never thought she’d find herself at a suicide booth. At 22 her life had practically just begun. She had gotten her degree only a month ago and found employment at a fairly decent company. But in that month she’d faced harassment from her boss, and bullying from coworkers, and she was done with it all. Which is why she found herself waiting patiently outside the bright blue booth.The door was tightly shut. A faint buzzing could be heard as the machines inside did their job. At the top of the booth was a screen depicting a line much like what one would see on a heart monitor. This indicated that the booth was presently occupied.

At the bottom of the screen was the company’s mascot ShiShi. A cartoonishly adorable grim reaper girl, wearing her signature black hoodie with a skull print and striped knee highs. She held a grinning scythe and waved cheerfully while striking cute poses. Eventually the monitor depicted a completely straight line, indicating that the person inside was dead. ShiShi ran off screen, coming back a second later dragging a toony ghost across to the other side. Soon the line was replaced with ‘Clean Up’, while ShiShi rushed back and forth with a mop.

At last the door opened and ShiShi beckoned her next guest in with a wave. As soon as Karin entered the door shut tight again. The inside was sparkling clean. You would never know there’d been a corpse in there only seconds before. There was a sitting area with many panels. Across from that was a large screen. ShiShi was there as well, pointing insistently to the ‘Start’ button. Pressing it led Karin to a wall of text. Skimming over it it was simply an overly wordy document explaining that this was a suicide booth and you will die. Nothing more than protection against any liability in case next of kin tried to sue. Karin signed her name and clicked agree. Next was a video asking Karin to state her name and verbally confirm that she had entered this booth knowingly with the intention to die.

With the boring stuff finally out of the way Karin was taken to a menu screen where she was given a variety of options for her method of death. Each one would show a small animation of ShiShi when clicked. Asphyxiation showed ShiShi clutching at her own throat, turning blue. Beheading would see ShiShi betrayed by her own scythe. Perhaps it was morbid curiosity, perhaps she was a closeted masochist, but Karin found herself clicking on ‘electrocution’ for her method of death. One of her favorite game show

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Ufu

Tags: Mutilation, Noncon

Collection of articles exploring an alternate timeline where western values developed along different lines. The start is a general summary of the developments from the 1920s until today from an in-universe perspective. Future articles may vary between historical, medical, PoV & similar. Beyond female circumcision as the main subject, domestic discipline, free use & similar themes are a consistent background. Contribution is free for all

The Spread of Female Circumcision in the West (Prof. P. A. Snip, "The 20th Century: Change and Continuity," Universal Values Press, 2023)

Female circumcision, although long practiced in the islamic world, made its first significant inroads in the west in the 1920s. It was a time of experimentation and progress, and the naturalist movements of the time naturally led to a countermovement that idealized not the natural variations among female genitalia, but their reduction to classical ideals, where the female shape was visible, but female genitalia were not.

Beyond this, women's liberation was also an important topic of the era, and likewise led to a conservative counterreaction. In the social circles that were already busy defending domestic discipline from attempts to outlaw it, female circumcision (typically involving the removal of the prepuce, labia minora and the clitoris itself) came to be viewed as an additional means to control and contain female sexuality just as it was trying to establish itself.

Nevertheless, it must be emphasized that these weren't mass movements. Small social circles meeting on weekends, often introduced to the practice by enthusiastic doctors or pastors, began to circumcise their wives and daughters, but the total number of circumcisions remained small, with anecdotal evidence suggesting that barely even one in a thousand young women was circumcised in this era.

Circumcision rates for women stagnated or even dropped in Europe in the 1930s and 1940s since national socialism strongly favored the naturalistic side of the social currents of the time (though the national socialists never outright banned the practice), but in turn grew noticeably in the United States and to a lesser extent in the British Commonwealth, though it was still only practiced by a small minority.

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[Ultracasual, M/F, Cannibalism, Incest, Beheading, Eye Torture, Weird family dynamics]

PART 1/3

John and Maria were viewing a house. It was a newly renovated two-story building in a very good neighborhood. Built on top of a hill, it was the pride of the neighborhood. It had four bedrooms, a modern living room, and a spacious kitchen. It also had a large garden with a swimming pool. It had been waiting for new tenants for a long time, but the couple was almost decided.

John was a middle-aged man. He had long, salt-and-pepper hair tied in a ponytail and a rather unathletic build, with a paunch he wasn't proud of. His wife was slightly younger than him. The Latina, with large breasts, was significantly shorter than he was. She had long, wavy, auburn hair.

Their two adult daughters, Isabella and Valentina, were also wandering around the house. They were practically carbon copies of their mother, only with a lighter skin tone.
The landlady, a young, redheaded woman, approached the couple.

"What do you think?" she asked.


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1

“To be completely honest, there’s no one who deserves this more than you do.”

Ayala Diner beamed. She had worked so hard to get where she sat today. She opened her mouth to speak, but caught herself, remembering that Mr. Thompson was someone who didn’t like to be interrupted.

“And yet, I’d be breaking a lot of tradition appointing someone like you as our sales lead…” Mr. Thompson continued, turning his back on Ayala for a moment to stare at two portraits on the wall, the family resemblance uncanny.

Ayala’s heart sank – words like “tradition” and “someone like you” did not bode well for her kind. She slumped slightly in her seat, the white patches of fur on her forehead scrunched together. She rubbed her legs against each other in a way that appeared to indicate nerves.

“…you’d run into a fair amount of…scrutiny…especially as this is a cookware company…” He turned, staring Ayala down. “How would you handle it?”

Ayala had been “handling” this type of teasing her entire life, being a member of such a unique minority. Her race, the Dyani, had nearly hunted to extinction hundreds of years ago when they were discovered on a small island in the Caribbean. They were labeled savages, like so many others native to the Americas, with the distinction of looking like a mix of a human and a common deer.

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Final Girl - Season 1
by John Doe
(Final Cut)

This story was originally intended as lightweight porn/guro, but as I was writing it, it started evolving into a psychological thriller. So I had to make a significant rewrite to keep it consistent both internally and with Season 2


Prologue

My name’s John. John Doe. Not my real name of course, but that’s none of your fucking business.

So let me introduce myself like they do in those Anonymous Alcoholics groups:
“My name is John Doe and I’m a sick fuck. And a murderer.”

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Perhaps a little early to begin a Christmas story but those of you who know me know that when an idea crosses my brain, I have to get at least the start written down or it will give me no peace! So here we are!

Tage: Preteen, snuff, willing, oven-roast, exhibitionism, Christmas

Seasonal Samantha
By
Edward Hyde



“Is the oven definitely big enough?” Samantha asked for what was probably the sixth time but felt to her dad, Josh, like the six-hundredth. She was kneeling beside him on the sofa wearing the long pink t-shirt and baggy shorts she liked to wear for bed. Her shoulder-length, dark blonde hair was still damp and her honey-coloured skin bore the glow of cleanliness that comes after a nice, hot bath.

“It’s one of the selling points on their website!” Josh assured her, turning his laptop so that she could see the screen. “It even gives the measurements here!” he pointed to a diagram on the FAQ page of the booking site. Samantha narrowed her eyes.

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Welcome to “One Week in Dolcett – A Create Your Own Snuffventure.” This story is presented in the style of Create Your Own Adventure Books and/or Text Based Video Games. For the uninitiated, you read several paragraphs of narrative, and then are faced with a series of choices. Depending on what choice you take, you either advance through the plot, or, since this is snuff erotica, you meet your end in one of dozens of Dolcett themed gruesomely erotic ways.

I’ve kept in mind while writing this that we read snuff erotica *for* the snuff, so as such, each one of the deaths is fleshed out (pun intended) to be as satisfying as possible. These aren’t simple “wrong turn, you died” endings, but full potential endings to the main characters story.

Since this is a Dolcett themed story, I’ve tried to provide endings in ALL of the popular cooking methods and prep scenarios. I’ve ALSO tried to represent a variety of snuffs – if you are not a Dolcett (erotic cannibalism) fan, there’s still a lot for you here in the various ways the character can meet her demise.

There is ONE Canon Ending that does not end in GAME OVER. Let me know if you need help finding it!

As this story is interactive, it was built on a software platform called Twine and is hosted on a website called Borogove.io. This website is longstanding and safe – if you don’t feel comfortable clicking through, I can also send you the HTML file, just email me. I also have a new link on itch that also works.

Enjoy!

STORY LINK: https://k6ctgc6t.play.borogove.io/

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