Do to the fact that voting is currently tied, and i'd rather the season finale to not have a winner, I am putting in a last minute vote for Pixie-Bob to die

Pixie-Bobs stone horse ran across the empty fields of NGL. The Pro Heroes Association had been getting reports of a dangerous new species in this region of insect, so they sent the Pussy-cats to scout out the countryside, and gather information. However they had already ran into trouble. The first major problem was they had to leave all modern equipment behind, including their gear. After her teammates had changed into the NGL approved clothes all that was left wasn't something she enjoyed. The brown fabric shirt was to small, and tightly hugged her breasts which bulged obviously out. The brown pants weren't much better, her bubbly butt was far to emphasized for her taste, and if she sat wrong, the outline of her pussy was clearly visible. The worst part however where the boots, and socks. Even though it was summer, all they had left where a pair off winter socks that went up to her knees, and a pair of beaten up boots that would blister her feet if warm without socks. So her feet where hot as hell, and her socks soaking wet.

“Ugh! I can't take this anymore”

Ryuko said ripping the boots off, and tossing them aside, before slipping of the socks doing the same with them. She sighed with relief as the cool wind hit her sweaty feet. She wiggled her tiny toes, admiring her blue painted toes for a second, before looking back at the horizon with a serious expression. The second major problem was the group had decided to split up to cover more ground. She was starting to regret that. Her stone horse skidded to a halt, as three figures appeared in the distance. She dismounted her horse, the wet grass felt nice against her bare soles, and in between her toes.

“Who are you”

She demanded as the figures approached.

“A human dares to talk to the king in such a way?”

A hulking red man growled. A fair skinned man with butterfly wings snickered

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Alice-…Holy Shit

Lauren-Pixie-Bob had an extremely powerful quirk, but that wasn't enough to keep up with Neferpitou's far superior physical abilities

Alice-That should have been our Halloween special, like fuck

Lauren-Not only that, but Pituos non-physical abilities are nothing to scoff at. Provided with the corpses of strong people, her underlings could easily over power Ryukos. Not only that, but she can bolster her already great physical advantage

Alice-Poor Pixie was also outdone in the mental side of this battle. Neferpitou was able to learn how to understand, and physically manipulate the human brain after only being born for a few hours, while Ryuko was only an average 31 year old women when it came to intelligence. The ant was also far more brutal than the hero. She was not only willing, but happy to attack Pixie-Bob emotionally, while Ryuko had a rather kind nature

Lauren-In the end Pixie-Bob was completely outmatched in this fight

Alice-I guess curiosity really did kill the cat, well curiosity, and the weird, blood thirsty, human, ant, cat hybrid

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>>15456
man i wanna this but now with Pitou being nice dead and played with! Mmm…

. The biological hardware remains, but the software of 'personality' has been effectively deleted."

Martha stepped back, the heels of her shoes clicking with a rhythmic, hollow sound. She looked at Lauren not as a child, but as a successful experiment. "The patient is no longer burdened by the chaos of the self. There is no more anxiety to trigger, no more failure to dread. She has transitioned from a subject of fluctuating mood to a state of permanent, stable equilibrium."

"Observe the contrast," Martha directed, her voice adopting the crisp, rhythmic cadence of a seasoned professor. She pivoted her body, shifting her focus from the frontal region to the back of Lauren’s skull, gesturing with a gloved hand toward the base of the girl's neck and the crown of her head. "While the executive center has been silenced, the architecture of the lower brain remains entirely pristine. The cerebellum continues its silent work, maintaining the basic equilibrium of the body; the brainstem remains an unwavering sentinel, pulsing with the automaticity of breath and heartbeat. We have not erased the machine, merely disconnected the operator."

She leaned in further, her finger tracing an imaginary line along the occipital lobe. "The visual cortex is still firing, processing the flickering of the overhead lights, though the capacity to assign meaning to those flashes has vanished. The temporal lobes still receive the sounds of this room, the hum of the camera and the click of my heels, her hippocampus comitting it all to memories, unfiltered without a frontal lobe to decide whats worth keeping and what can be thrown out and forgotten. The animal is intact; the person is gone."

Martha stepped back to survey her work, her expression one of clinical satisfaction. She looked down at Lauren, who remained as still as a sculpture carved from wax. The girl’s chest rose and fell in a slow, rhythmic tide—a biological clock ticking away in a room where the concept of time no longer existed. To the observer, Lauren looked asleep, but to the trained eye, the vacancy in her gaze was a profound, yawning void.

"Now, consider the internal landscape," Martha continued, her voice a smooth, academic drone as she gestured vaguely toward the crown of Lauren's head. "Within the skull, the frontal lobes are currently in a state of frantic, ghost-like activity. They are firing in a vacuum, sending out signals to a world they can no longer touch. Imagine a pianist playing a complex concerto, only to discover the keys have been removed from the instrument. The muscles are moving, the effort is there, but there is no sound, no resonance. She is attempting to parse the loss of outside stimuli—the sudden silence of a world that used to scream—but there is no bridge left to carry the realization back to her conscious mind."

Martha leaned back, her silhouette cutting a sharp line against the clinical white of the wall. "Over time, we expect this residual firing to fade through simple disuse. The neural pathways, deprived of feedback, will eventually atrophy, sliding into a permanent, blissful dormancy. What remains is a docile, easy-to-care-for patient. A child who will not fight her caretakers, nor fight the confusing currents of her own mind. This is the ultimate utility of the procedure: the total eradication of internal conflict. Violent outburst, psychosis and other mential disorders."

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Martha stopped by the tray, her gaze lingering on the silver tools. "Of course, our objective here was not the removal of a hemisphere, but the strategic severing of the emotional highways. Yet, the principle of plasticity remains the same. In the archives of the mid-century, there are two poorly documented cases—shadowy footnotes in medical journals—of children Lauren’s age who were subjected to similar 'quieting' for being unruly or unmanageable. They were described as hollowed out, vacant, drifting ghosts for months. And then, a year later, they returned. They didn't just recover; they reintegrated. They returned to a tearing their clothes and smashing toys."

She looked back at Lauren, who lay as still as a fallen leaf. "There is a theoretical hope, then. Not a hope for the Lauren who entered this room—that girl was a collection of anxieties and social obligations—but a hope for a new Lauren. A version of her that has navigated the void and built a bridge across the silence."

Martha reached out and ducked her bangs away from her eyes, a gesture that was almost tender, though it lacked any genuine emotional warmth. The nurse then turned toward the recording equipment, her movements efficient. "We shall see if the plasticity of a sixth-grader can outrun the finality of a steel spike. The biological clock has been reset. Now, we wait for the rewire."

With a decisive click, Martha deactivated the camera. The red light vanished, plunging the room into a sudden, oppressive silence that was no longer recorded for science. She didn't linger. She began to clear the tray, the metallic clatter of the instruments sounding like a closing door.

Martha worked in a focused, rhythmic silence, the sounds of the room shifting from the theatricality of a recorded lecture to the mundane chores of a clinic. She wiped the table with a pungent disinfectant, the smell of lemon and bleach cutting through the sterile air. Lauren remained exactly where she had been left, her head resting on the cold vinyl, her expression one of profound, empty peace. She didn't move when the air conditioning kicked in, sending a sudden, sharp draft across her exposed skin. The biological reflex to shiver was there, but the mind that would interpret the chill as "cold" was a fragmented map with no legend.

For a long time, Lauren simply existed as a series of pulses. She was the slow rise and fall of her chest; she was the faint, rhythmic thrum of blood in her ears; she was the weight of her own limbs pressing into the table. The world had narrowed to the physical boundaries of her skin. There was no "Lauren" to occupy the space, only a biological entity processing a stream of sensory data that it no longer knew how to categorize. A fly landed on her cheek, its tiny legs prickling against her skin, but she didn't blink. The sensation arrived at the brainstem, but it died at wall of severed white matter. it could reach a center capable of deciding that a fly was an annoyance.

Eventually, the silence was broken by the soft, metallic rattle of a wheelchair being maneuvered into the room. Martha didn't move alone; she signaled for a junior orderly, a quiet man whose presence was as unobtrusive as the beige walls. Together, they approached the table, their movements coordinated and devoid of urgency. They didn't speak to Lauren; they spoke about her, treating her body as a piece of luggage that needed careful shifting.

With a synchronized heave, they hoisted her from the table. Because the procedure had stripped away her motor functions, Lauren’s body was heavy and limp, her limbs swinging with a loose, pendulous momentum. She was dressed only in her simple white underwear, her small frame looking startlingly fragile against the industrial grey of the wheelchair. Her arms draped over the armrests like discarded scarves, and her head lolled to the side, her gaze fixed on a distant, unremarkable point on the floor. There was no struggle, no instinctive attempt to right herself; she was a passenger in a vessel that had lost its rudder.

The journey through the hallway was a series of rhythmic jolts. Every bump in the linoleum sent a shudder through Lauren’s spine, but the sensation arrived in her mind as a series of unrelated vibrations, devoid of the concept of "movement." She saw the ceiling lights pass over her in a blurring strobe of fluorescent white, a conveyor belt of light that she watched with a vacant, glassy curiosity. To her, the world had become a sequence of textures and flashes, a sensory movie with the sound turned off and the plot deleted.

They arrived at the recovery ward, a room that smelled of old linens and ozone. The orderly maneuvered the chair into a corner, tucked away from the main thoroughfare but within sight of the nursing station. He didn't

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He didn't bother to adjust her posture; he simply left her there, slumped in the chair, her chest rising and falling in a slow, mechanical cadence. Martha stepped back to survey the placement, her eyes scanning the room for any potential hazards. She didn't check if Lauren was comfortable; comfort was an emotional state, and Lauren was now an entity of pure biology.

"Wait here," Martha said, though she didn't look at the girl. "The parents should be arriving within the hour. Ensure she doesn't slide out of the chair."

The orderly nodded and retreated, leaving Lauren in the heavy silence of the ward. She sat in the stillness, her eyes open and unblinking. A clock on the wall ticked with a sharp, metallic snap, each second a physical strike against the silence. For the first time in twelve years, the noise didn't bother her. The ticking didn't signal the approach of a deadline or the pressure of a classroom; it was simply a sound, a rhythmic pulse in a world that had finally stopped asking things of her.

Somehow, this story is the sexiest non-sexual story I could ever imagine.

asstr-mirror[dot]org/files/Authors/Eficient/www/index [dot]html

He also reposted some other stories here, just search for the eficient Name. Not sure about Emily's journey specifically though.

The only stories on this website here (Guro) that I know of involving cannibalism are these two.

Two very good stories.


Eficient The Farm

https://boards.guro.cx/lit/koko.php?res=13838#p7_30332


A prequel to The Farm

https://boards.guro.cx/lit/koko.php?res=22356&page=0

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Pranked episode 4: magic trick

Casual, torture, creative kills, con, semi con

A new video appears on the trickster channel. Nep is standing on a stage, between three women. Two completely naked on the sides, and one behind him dressed like a magician. She wears fish net stockings, a corset that starts after her pussy and stops before her boobs, white gloves, and a magician top hat. All three show big smiles to the camera. Nep starts talking. "Hello tricksters! Today's episode will be quite the magic one! Our trickster today is Zatanna right behind me, I'll let her explain." The woman seems at ease with the camera. "Hello dear spectators, my name is Zatanna, I'm a professional magician. My friends, Dinah and Helena, with myself, wanted to prank our other friend, Selina. As well as offering you a snuff show for your pleasure! Selina believes we need her help to record a magic show, and that it will be completely snuff-free. We prepared everything, she should arrive any minute now."

At the same time a few members of the slave crew inform them that Selina is coming. "Then that means I have to hide. Can't let her suspect anything" he winks and leaves. Selina enters the stage not long after. She doesn't seem bothered at all by her nakedness and shows it with pride. She has brown skin, short dark hair, and emerald eyes. She steps on the stage unaware that the camera is already recording. "Hello girls! So everyone's ready?" She and the others chat for a bit before getting in position. Selina walks to the left of the screen. A slave crew member pretends to turn the camera on, and they start.

Zatanna in the middle speaks to the camera. "Everybody, welcome to Zaranna's Magic show! I will perform several magic tricks for you, and even if this show is recorded, every trick you see really happened!" Helena grabs a deck of cards from out of the screen. She shows it to the camera, it's completely normal. She then brings it to Zatanna. "For this first trick, we're going to start with one known by everyone! Selina, please pick a card, and show it to the camera." Selina picks and shows the Ace of heart. At the same time, Dinah appears with a lighter. "Now, please burn it." as Selena burnt the card, she suddenly looks pretty pained and unwell for a few seconds. "Please spectators, keep this card in mind, we'll come back to it."

Selina and Dinah leave the screen as Helena enters it. She poses showing her back, or rather her ass to the camera. It's filled with a butt plug. As Zatanna's pulls on it more and more appear from Helena's ass. One meter, two meters, and yet it kept going. Helena's face was in pure bliss. After dozens of meters of dildo, appear anal beads. The beads' sizes ranged from marbles all the way up to bowling balls, each causing different reactions from Helena. After the bowling balls there were only three cards left coming out of Helena's ass. Ace of club, ace of dimond, and the ace of spade. "we're getting closer but we're not here yet!" with a slap on her ass Helena leaves the screen while Dinah and Selina enters it again, bringing two boxes and two saw. Dinah on the left with a vertical box, and Selina with an horizontal one.

Both girls step inside. Zatanna grabs Dinah's saw and uses it directly, the box is cut in three parts, and they aren't aligned. Yet, while Dinah seems in pain, she doesn't look like she's snuffed or even bleeding. Then as Zatanna grabs Selina's saw, she sneakily gets out of her box. Zatanna places the saw between Selina's ass cheeks and pussy lips. Dinah and Helena each rush to grab a leg, and pull. Signs from the studio turn on with the words "Get snuffed!" in red. As everyone screams "Pranked" Selina has barely enough time to register before Zatanna saws. Since the girls pull on Selina's legs strongly, it only takes a few slides for Zatanna to shred Selina's flesh all the way to her lungs. Selina's face is filled with pain with touches of betrayal as her friends are letting her bleed out. As the remaining three girls laugh, Zatanna reaches to grab Selina's heart and with a snatching move rip it from her ribcage. And during the very few seconds Selina had left, she felt her friend rip her heart, and open it. "here it is!" Zatanna said as she pulled a bloody card from the beating organ. "The ace of heart!" Selina realised it's all for a card trick, but at least it's a good one. And she snuffed it.

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Pranked episode 5: one last song

Casual, lolis, torture, beating, gore, F/F/F, con, semicon,eager.


You receive a notification from the trickster channel, but this time it's not a new video, it's the launch of a live stream. With a click, Nep appears in the middle of the screen. This time again he's with naked beauties, but they aren't nobodies. Nep is between the naked forms of the three idols from most famous K-pop as of today, Huntr/x. On the right stands Mira, with her stern face, parts of her long pink hair are tied in twin tails. On the right is Zoey, always showing a warm smile, her black hair in two tight buns. Finally, behind him stands Rumi, the leader. She has a stance overflowing with charisma and confidence, in other circumstances, she could easily steal the lead from Nep. She has long purple hair tied in a single braid reaching her ankles. All three of them wear a single collar with a 'Huntr/x 4 life' pendant, as their sole form of clothing.

"Hello everyone! I want to thank you all for your support since the beginning of this series. It's thanks to you that this episode is possible. As you noticed this isn't a video but a live stream, it's because every five episodes we'll do a special show with a larger scale. For this first special episode, the group Huntr/x accepted to do a featuring! Thank you girls!" The three girls were clearly used to TV appearances, and they prepared an answer both professional and natural. "no, thank you, without you we would never have been able to reach this many people." Nep takes back the lead for the camera. "It's true that today's event will be able to reach a lot of people. We want to go all out! we decided to break the world record of the most-attended ticketed concert! The previous was at 450,000. Today we gathered 1,000,000!" The camera changes to a drone view, showing the naked mass of almost 1,000,000 people. "The men and boys who bought a ticket were brought to special lounges to enjoy the show, girls who bought premium ones were gathered in one too."

There are several cameras inside the crowd to capture the stage. Visible on one of them there's a group of fan girls who completely dedicated their lives to the idol group. They each took on one of the girls' iconic hair styles. Their bodies are covered in tattoos. 'I love Rumi/Mira/Zoey', all over their face and torso, face song lyrics on their limbs and back, and 'Huntr/x 4 live' branded on their forehead, visible when they turn. In the corner of another there's a lesbian trouple sharing kisses switching between each others, while two kiss the third cuddles. And on the last camera appears a milf with her daughter, probably around 8, who is struggling to watch what happens on the stage since she's only at ass-level for every other girl in front of her. Her mother lifts her and let her sit on her shoulders.

the camera cuts back to the four of them. Zoey resume the talking. "On top of that, girls who bought their ticket had to accept special rules. They couldn't bring any recoding device, including their phones. We said it's to prevent illegal diffusion of this special concert, but it's really to prevent any of them from watching this very live stream." Nep makes a wink accompanied by Zoey's, while Mira and Rumi give a smirk to the camera, as Mira talks. "To enforce this rule we prohibited any clothing in the concert. To compensate we offered to keep their belongings safe, and gave everyone accessories." Finally as the crowd becomes more eager, and loud, Rumi speaks. "We'll be starting the prank in the middle of our new song. Have a special way of knowing when to start so we prepared a keyword to start everything. But for now, the crowd is calling us we need to go." with skillful moves, the idols turn and walk to the stage. Cut.


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Bump

>>27665
Bump!
I think this is the only scenario where a Live slave was the reward, right? Wonder, if she's still alive as a pain slave/trophy, or taxidermied..

>>31474
Thanks ^^
yes and no, this is the most obvious one and the only confirmed, but there some slaves included in the belongings of other victims ;)

on a side note, I do plan to resume writing stories here, I plan to write a new story very soon which will be the start of a new thread ;)

The guards hurriedly went around picking up stones before bringing out two low tables and putting them on the stages. Then they set out ten six inch throwing knives on each of the tables.

“In our second semi-final,” said the ringmaster, “the rebels will take turns throwing knives at each other. Please bring forward Bea Johnson and Lena Kovács.”

Bea and Lena were led onto the stages, and Lena gingerly stepped around the pool of blood in front of her wooden block, a grim reminder of the fate that might await her in a few minutes time. When the girls’ feet were secured, the ringmaster stood between them and tossed a coin.

“Heads or tails?” he asked Lena. Lena called ‘heads’, but to my dismay, lost the toss.

“Bea to throw first!” said the ringmaster, sidling back to his seat. “Your fifteen minutes start now!”

Bea picked up a knife and turned it over in her hand, testing the weight. Then she stared intently at Lena, who was looking very uncomfortable.

When Bea threw her first knife, Lena instinctively turned away as far as she was able, her hands going up to protect her face. She needn’t have bothered, as the knife went low and wide, skating across the stage before dropping off the side.

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“Our third semi-final is just like the last, but with spears!” said the ringmaster. “Please bring forward Reese Fairchild and Agnes Morton.”

As predicted, Agnes walked towards the ringmaster and declared, “I will not fight.”

Reese grinned widely, and the ringmaster replied, “We thought you’d say that, so in the interval we had a present prepared for you.”

“Bring it on!” he instructed the guards.

Out of the right-hand opening in the backdrop four guards appeared pulling a low cart with a metal cage on top. It measured around five feet on all sides; not big enough to stand up or lay down in comfortably.

They rolled it up behind Agnes and the ringmaster opened the cage door and invited her to enter.

“And if I don’t?” said Agnes, still defiant.

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“It’s as I feared — she’s going to win,” said my daughter.

“Yeah, Reece is going to wipe out those two,” my son agreed dejectedly.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” I said, pointing to a giant contraption that was being wheeled out of the left-hand opening in the backdrop by twelve guards.

It looked like a small hexagonal bandstand, about ten feet in diameter, consisting of a wooden stage with steps, and six vertical posts supporting a conical roof. The stage extended out like a catwalk for another ten feet, with two wooden posts at its end supporting a sloping roof.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” said the ringmaster, “it is time for the final of our tournament. We’ve tested the rebels’ strength and their skill — now we will find out who has the better brain! Please bring forward Eustace Greaves, Lena Kovács and Reese Fairchild.”

When the rebels had assembled, the ringmaster walked to the end of the catwalk and showed them a crossbow fixed at chest height between the wooden posts. It was pointed at the hexagonal stage.

“A bolt from this crossbow will kill anyone unlucky enough to be standing on the stage,” he said. “You will see that its trigger mechanism is connected to a steel cable which runs up to the roof and along inside it to the stage.”

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The ringmaster held Lena’s right arm in the air as he declared her the winner.

“Give it up for our champion, Lena Kovács, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!” said the ringmaster as they both bowed to the applauding audience.

“She leaves here with her freedom, unlike those you see behind us. They will remain here on display in this arena as a reminder to everyone in society that the law must be obeyed. Do not make us hold another tournament. I bid you all good night and wish you a safe journey home.”

As we stood to leave our seats, the guards re-erected the temporary metal fence in front of the posts and crucifixes, so people could continue to view the dead and dying up close.

“We need to go and congratulate Lena!” said my wife.

We got to the gate at the end of the tunnel, and entered the arena to find Lena swamped by reporters and photographers.

Eventually we got close enough to call to her, and she came over to us, pleased but exhausted.

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A few weeks later Lena was well on the mend; her bruises had almost disappeared and the stitches that had sewn up the wound in her leg had been removed. Her wrists and ankles were stiff though, and would always carry scars to remind her of her crucifixion.

My daughter was starting to walk again without crutches, and now had the whole arena to use when doing her weekly execution routines at the funfair.

All of us were sitting on the couch watching TV when my wife cuddled up to Lena.

“So, hubby and I were wondering if you’d like to have some fun with us tonight?” she asked Lena, gently.

“I’d like that,” replied Lena, and she smiled coyly as she got up and left the room.

A few moments later my wife and I glanced at each other and got up to leave too.

As we got to the door my daughter coughed and I turned around.

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Kelly’s face was a mask of pure agony. Her features were twisted and contorted, her mouth hanging open as broken, miserable sobs poured out of her. Thick tears streamed down her cheeks, mixing with dried vomit, saliva, and blood, leaving long, glistening trails across her skin. Her once-pretty face, the same one that had earned her money and attention in front of cameras, was now swollen, blotchy, and streaked with ruin. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, the whites completely red from the strain of screaming and crying. They darted around frantically, filled with terror and disbelief, as if she still couldn’t fully process what had been done to her. Every few seconds her eyelids would flutter, heavy with exhaustion, before another wave of pain forced them open again. Her entire body trembled violently in the chains. The muscles in her arms, legs, and stomach twitched and spasmed uncontrollably, the raw, skinless patches on her thighs and upper arms quivering with every sob. Her chest heaved in ragged, shallow breaths, her small tits rising and falling rapidly as she fought to stay conscious through the overwhelming pain radiating from her lower body. The former beauty that had defined her career was gone. Her once-smooth skin was now marred by burns, blood, and open wounds. Her blonde hair hung in sweaty, matted clumps around her face, and the elegant, seductive expression she had perfected for the camera had been replaced by raw, animalistic suffering. What remained was a broken, desperate woman whose body had been systematically destroyed. Every sob that escaped her lips carried the weight of her loss — not just of her body, but of the pretty, desirable image she had built her entire identity around. Her shoulders shook with the force of her crying, and her head hung forward in utter defeat, the last remnants of her pornstar confidence completely shattered.

The Snatcher snapped her fingers sharply. In an instant, the chains vanished into thin air. Kelly’s body dropped without warning, crashing hard onto the cold stone floor. A broken cry escaped her as the sudden impact sent fresh waves of agony through her pierced wrists and ankles. She tried to push herself up, and although the hooks were gone from her wrists and ankles, but the wounds made it impossible to bear any weight. Her arms gave out immediately, and she collapsed forward, curling into a tight fetal position with her ruined, smoking asshole pointed directly toward the Snatcher. The Snatcher watched her for a moment before waving her hand lazily. From the floor in front of Kelly, a tall, obsidian-black cock began to rise from the ground. It stood 120 centimeters high — nearly four feet tall — narrow and tapered at the tip but gradually thickening toward the base, where it was embedded firmly into the stone. The surface had a glossy, almost glassy texture, dark and menacing under the dim light.

“Get over there,” the Snatcher ordered coldly. “Crawl to that cock and start sucking the tip.”

Kelly let out a weak, miserable sob. Her wrists and one ankle were completely useless. She tried to rise onto her knees, but the pain forced her back down. With no other choice, she began dragging herself forward on her elbows and functioning knees, keeping her body awkwardly angled so her raw, skinless thighs and arms wouldn’t drag against the floor. Every movement was slow and agonizing, her breathing coming in short, pained gasps. The obsidian cock loomed ahead of her, impossibly tall compared to her exhausted, broken form. Kelly inched closer on her elbows and knee, her body trembling with every inch she gained. Her ruined asshole continued to smoke faintly, small wisps rising from the blackened, metal-filled prolapse as she crawled. When she finally reached the base of the massive obsidian cock, she tried to pull herself up. Her knee slipped on the stone as she strained to rise high enough to reach the tapered tip with her mouth. Her arms shook violently from the effort. For a brief moment she managed to get her face near the head, her lips parting weakly as she attempted to obey. But her strength gave out completely. Her arms buckled and she collapsed forward, her face pressing against the thick base of the obsidian cock as she fell back down. She lay there panting, her body curled at the foot of the massive shaft, too exhausted and broken to even attempt rising again.

The Snatcher snapped her fingers again. The stone floor surrounding the tall obsidian shaft began to heat rapidly, the surface turning from gray to a dull red before glowing brighter with each passing second. Within moments, the area around the base of the massive cock had become a circle of searing, red-hot stone. Wisps of smoke rose from the floor as the heat intensified.

Kelly was still curled at the base of the shaft when the burning began. She let out a sharp, agonized cry as the heat reached her already damaged skin. The men stepped closer, standing on either side of the glowing circle, ready to kick her back if she tried to crawl away.

“Mount the shaft with your cunt if you want to live,” the Snatcher said coldly from her chair. “Otherwise you’ll burn to death right there.”

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“I… I am a huge whore,” she choked out, her voice hoarse and shaking. “I love sucking cock… I love it when they fucked my throat until I puke on their dicks… I swallowed so much cum, I drank it from glasses, I begged for it. I am a dirty, greedy cum slut…” She had to pause as another sob tore through her. Her body trembled on the obsidian shaft as she forced herself to continue. “I love getting fucked in both holes… I love double penetration… and especially double anal. I like when two cocks were inside my ass at the same time. It makes me feel like a total whore. That’s why they call me Kelly Fucking Wells… because I am always ready to fuck, always nasty, always begging for more. I wanted to be the dirtiest girl on set.” Kelly’s voice cracked again, thick with tears. “I became that slut because… because I like the attention. I like being used. I like the money and the way men looked at me when I let them destroy my holes. I was proud of how much I could take… I thought it made me special. I am a fucking whore who lived for cock and cum and being treated like trash.” She broke down into miserable sobs, her shoulders shaking as she hung on the shaft, unable to say anything more.

The Snatcher looked up at Kelly with a cruel little smile. “It’s time to prove your blowjob skills one more time. Suck both of them until they cum. Do it quickly — your time is limited. These men like it belly-deep in the throat, so you’d better do your best.”

The two massive black men stepped forward. A platform rose from the floor beneath them, lifting them until their cocks were level with Kelly’s head as she hung impaled on the obsidian shaft. The first man had a thick, heavily veined cock, dark brown in color with a wide, blunt head and a slight upward curve. The second man’s cock was even longer and smoother, almost black, with a narrower head that flared dramatically near the base.

Kelly’s eyes widened in terror. Her voice came out in a broken whisper. “No… please, I can’t…” But the moment the first cock was brought close to her lips, the obsidian shaft buried in her cunt began to warm. A low, ominous heat started spreading through the thick fake cock inside her. With shaking, semi-paralyzed hands, Kelly reached out. Her long French-tipped nails trembled as she wrapped her fingers around the first man’s thick shaft. She stroked it weakly, guiding the wide head toward her mouth. Her lips parted and she took him in, her throat already convulsing as she forced the blunt head past her tongue and into her esophagus. The obsidian cock inside her was growing hotter by the second. Kelly gagged hard around the first man’s cock as the heat began to build inside her cunt. She tried to focus, bobbing her head and stroking the shaft with her long nails, but the burning was already making her legs twitch. The first man didn’t last long. Kelly forced him deeper, her throat bulging around his girth as she gagged and drooled. it was the same cock who made her suffer in the very beginning. Within a minute he groaned and flooded her throat with thick cum. She swallowed desperately, her long fingernails still wrapped around his pulsing shaft as he emptied himself down her esophagus.

The second man stepped forward as the first moved aside. His cock was longer and smoother, the head narrower but the shaft much thicker near the base. Kelly’s hands shook violently as she took hold of it. The obsidian cock inside her was now burning hot, the heat radiating deep into her cunt and making her stomach cramp. She opened her mouth and took the second man’s cock, struggling to get the long shaft into her throat. Her long French-tipped nails slid along the smooth, dark skin as she tried to stroke and guide him deeper. The obsidian shaft was now scorching inside her, the heat becoming unbearable. Kelly began to choke and heave. Thick strings of bile and saliva poured from her nose and around the cock as she forced it deeper into her esophagus. Her legs kicked and trembled violently from the roasting pain in her cunt, her burned feet twitching in the air.

The second man lasted much longer. Kelly sucked and gagged desperately, her long nails scraping along his shaft as she tried everything to make him cum. Tears streamed down her face while the obsidian cock continued to burn hotter inside her, cooking her from within. Her body convulsed as she coughed up more bile around the cock. The heat in her cunt had become excruciating. Her legs kicked harder, her thighs shaking uncontrollably as the obsidian shaft roasted her insides. She could feel the tissue inside her burning and blistering around the thick fake cock. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the second man groaned and began to cum. Thick ropes of semen flooded Kelly’s throat as she gagged and heaved. At the same moment, the obsidian cock inside her reached its peak heat, burning deep into her cunt. Kelly’s entire body seized up in agony, her legs thrashing as she swallowed the last load.

The Snatcher had been watching the entire time, her bloody fingers working rapidly between her legs. As Kelly finished gagging on the second man’s cum while her cunt was being roasted from the inside, the Snatcher let out a low moan and came, her fingers buried deep inside herself as she watched the broken woman suffer on the shaft. The Snatcher snapped her fingers once more. The intense heat radiating from the obsidian shaft began to fade, though it remained hot enough to keep producing thin wisps of smoke and steam from between Kelly’s legs. The thick fake cock inside her was no longer burning at full intensity, but the damage had already been done. Kelly’s cunt was badly scorched. Her outer labia were swollen and blistered, the delicate skin red and shiny with burst blisters. The inner lips were even worse — raw, inflamed, and covered in small white blisters that had formed along the slit. Her clitoris was especially damaged, the sensitive bud swollen to twice its normal size, the hood blistered and peeling. While not as catastrophically ruined as her asshole, the sight was still horrific — a once-pretty, well-used pornstar pussy now cooked and blistered from the inside out.

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The Snatcher looked up at Kelly with a calm, almost casual expression as she spoke.

“Your tits were never really the focus of your career, were they, Jessica? You were always an ass and oral slut. Everyone remembers you for your throat and that ruined little asshole you used to have. Still… no porn slut’s tits should be left unattended.” She tilted her head slightly. “So tell me. Would you rather have your small tits skinned… or burned off with acid?”

Kelly’s face twisted in fresh horror. Her voice cracked as she immediately began to beg, her words tumbling out between sobs.

“No… please, no more… I can’t take any more. Please, just stop. I don’t want my tits skinned, I don’t want acid, I don’t want anything. Please just kill me. Please make it quick. I can’t do this anymore. I’m begging you, just end it. Please…” Her voice broke into desperate, shaking cries as she continued. “I’ve already lost everything… my body is ruined. Please, just give me a quick death. I can’t take any more pain. I’m so tired. Please, just stop hurting me. I’ll do anything, just don’t do this to my tits. Please…”

The Snatcher’s expression didn’t change. “You have to choose. Skinning or acid. If you don’t pick, I’ll do both. One after the other.”

Kelly’s breathing turned into panicked, shallow gasps. The memory of her arms and thighs being peeled made her whole body shake violently. After several long, terrified seconds, she finally forced the words out through her tears. “…Acid,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Please… the acid. Not the skinning. Please, just the acid.”

The Snatcher’s lips slowly curved into a dark, evil smile. She picked up a small glass syringe filled with thick, clear concentrated acid. She approached Kelly with a calm, almost gentle demeanor, holding the syringe up so the suspended woman could see it. Without any further warning, she positioned the tip directly above Kelly’s left nipple and began releasing the acid one slow drop at a time. The first drop hit Kelly’s nipple and immediately began to hiss and smoke. Kelly’s body jerked violently as a piercing scream tore from her throat. The acid ate through the sensitive flesh with horrifying speed, the nipple shrinking and dissolving into a bubbling, smoking crater. Kelly thrashed on the obsidian shaft, her burned legs kicking wildly as she tried to twist away from the pain. The Snatcher moved to the right nipple and repeated the process, letting the acid fall drop by drop. Kelly’s screams grew even louder, raw and broken. She tried to kick at the Snatcher with her burned feet, but the woman was too quick. She stepped aside with ease, dodging each desperate kick while continuing to apply the acid with steady, deliberate movements.

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She snapped her fingers. A large pile of dry wooden logs materialized directly beneath Kelly’s dangling feet. The Snatcher lit a cigarette, took a slow drag, then casually dropped the still-burning match into the pile. The dry wood caught instantly. Small flames flickered at first, then grew rapidly, spreading across the logs with a hungry crackle. The fire began to climb. The first tongues of flame reached upward and kissed the soles of Kelly’s burned feet. The contact was instant and brutal. Kelly’s body jerked violently as a raw, agonized scream tore from her throat. The heat seared the already blistered skin on the bottoms of her feet, causing them to blacken further within seconds. She kicked and thrashed, her entire body swinging from the wires threaded through her fingernails. The flames licked higher, reaching her ankles and the lower parts of her shins. Kelly screamed again, louder this time, her voice hoarse and broken. She desperately tried to pull her legs up, using every last bit of strength she had left. Her burned muscles trembled as she fought to keep her feet out of the fire, but the effort made her body swing, putting even more strain on her already stretched fingernails. The fire continued to grow beneath her. Flames now reached the backs of her skinned thighs and the lower curves of her ass. The already scorched skin there began to blister and crack further as the heat intensified. Kelly’s screams turned into frantic, desperate pleas.

“Please! Please stop! It burns! Oh God, it burns!” she wailed, her voice cracking. “Please, I’m begging you! Make it stop!”

The flames danced just below her, occasionally licking at the ruined, blistered flesh between her legs. Her already scorched cunt and the blackened crater of her asshole were exposed to the rising heat. The sensitive, damaged tissue began to smoke again as the fire kissed her most ruined areas. Kelly’s legs weakened from the pain and exhaustion. She tried to keep them lifted, but they began to drop despite her efforts. Every time her burned feet and lower legs lowered into the flames, she would scream and struggle to pull them back up again. The cycle repeated — lift, weaken, drop, scream, lift again. Her body swung and twisted as she fought to keep her feet out of the fire, but each movement caused the wires through her fingernails to pull harder. The flames never rose high enough to engulf her completely, but they stayed constant beneath her, relentlessly burning her soles, shins, and the lower parts of her ass and cunt. The heat was constant and merciless. Kelly’s voice grew weaker, her screams turning into broken, sobbing wails as her strength continued to fade.

Her legs dropped again. This time they stayed down longer. The fire eagerly licked at her burned feet and the backs of her calves. Kelly cried out and tried once more to lift them, but her muscles were failing. She managed to raise them for a few seconds before they dropped again, sinking deeper into the flames. The strain on her fingernails was becoming unbearable. With every desperate kick and twitch of her body, the wires pulled harder against the holes drilled through her long nails. The skin around her nail beds was stretched to its limit, turning white and thin. More and richer trickles of blood began to seep from the holes as the pressure increased. One by one, her fingernails began to give way. The first nail, on her left index finger, tore at the root with a sickening, wet sound. Kelly screamed as the wire ripped through the remaining nail tissue, leaving a bloody, torn hole where the nail had been. Her body jerked violently from the sudden loss of support on that finger. The second nail followed soon after. Then the third. With each one that ripped free, more of her body weight shifted to the remaining nails, causing them to tear faster. Kelly’s screams became frantic as she felt her grip on the wires failing one finger at a time. Blood ran down her stretched arms from the torn nail beds. By the time only three fingernails remained, her body was swinging wildly. The last nails were stretched to their absolute limit, the skin around them torn and bleeding. Kelly’s voice was barely more than a hoarse, broken sob as she begged one final time.

“Please… please stop… I can’t… I can’t hold on…” The final three nails ripped free almost simultaneously. Kelly’s body dropped straight down into the burning logs beneath her. She landed hard in the flames. She screamed and thrashed, desperately trying to crawl out of the fire. Her body was covered in fresh burns as she dragged herself across the logs, sobbing and shrieking in total agony and exhaustion.

The Snatcher stood a few steps back from the burning logs, her fingers working rapidly between her legs as she watched Kelly suffer. Her breathing had grown heavy and ragged while she masturbated, her eyes fixed on the broken woman thrashing in the flames. As Kelly finally managed to drag herself out of the fire on her burned legs and nailless hands, the Snatcher let out a low moan and began to squirt. Thick, powerful streams of fluid shot from the Snatcher’s pussy and splashed directly across Kelly’s gasping, upturned face. Kelly’s mouth was open in a broken scream, and the squirt hit her tongue, her blistered cheeks, and her eyes. The Snatcher kept coming, directing the stream upward so it also hit the top of Kelly’s scorched head. Kelly’s once-beautiful blonde hair was almost entirely gone. Most of it had burned away in the fire, leaving behind only sparse, charred tufts clinging to her blistered scalp. The top of her head was scorched in several places, the skin red and raw with patches of burned flesh. Her face was heavily blistered, especially around the eyes, cheeks, and forehead, the once-smooth skin now swollen, shiny, and covered in angry red burns.

The Snatcher continued squirting, aiming the stream so it ran down over Kelly’s ruined face and dripped onto her chest. Kelly collapsed forward onto the stone floor, her body twitching and shaking from the overwhelming pain. She lay there gasping, her nailless hands curled uselessly in front of her.

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Kelly’s face crumpled. For a moment she seemed lost, her mind clearly struggling to stay present after everything that had been done to her. Then, in a broken, trembling voice that still carried the filthy cadence of her old scenes, she began to speak. The words came out hoarse and wet, laced with sobs, but she forced them out anyway, mimicking the desperate, vulgar tone she had once used on camera. “I’m… I’m a dirty fucking whore… I want the biggest cock… I want it to destroy my ass… I want it to rip me open… please… fuck this worthless cunt to death… I’m a cum-loving slut… I want the biggest fucking cock in the world to wreck my holes… I want it to split me in half… I’m a filthy pain whore… please… fuck me until I die… I want to be fucked to death… I want the biggest cock ever to ruin my ass… please… I’m just a stupid, greedy whore who deserves to be fucked to death…” Her voice cracked and broke repeatedly, but she kept going, the words spilling out between weak, miserable sobs as she lay there with her body destroyed and her mind barely holding on. “I want it deep… I want it to destroy me… I’m a cock-hungry slut… please… fuck this whore to death with the biggest cock… I want to feel it rip through me… I’m a dirty, worthless piece of fuckmeat… please… let the biggest cock ever end me… I want to die on cock… I want to be fucked to death like the filthy slut I am…”

The Snatcher stepped closer to Kelly’s collapsed form and slowly removed her sexy high heels. She revealed a long, pale foot with elegantly shaped toes and long, glossy black toenails that caught the dim light. She flexed her toes once before lowering her foot toward Kelly’s face. “Lick,” she ordered coldly. “Suck my toes while your last partner is prepared.”

Kelly, broken and barely conscious, lifted her head with visible effort. Her blistered lips parted as she pressed them against the Snatcher’s pale foot. She began licking slowly at first, her tongue dragging along the arch and between the long toes, leaving wet trails of drool. As the Snatcher’s other foot came down beside the first, Kelly grew more desperate. She opened her mouth wider and began sucking on the toes, taking them in one by one, her tongue working hungrily between them. Thick strands of saliva dripped from her chin as she worshipped the foot with frantic, almost frenzied enthusiasm, as if trying to prove her obedience.

While Kelly continued to slurp and suck on the Snatcher’s toes, a large platform materialized in the center of the chamber. Mounted on it was a sturdy pommel horse-like contraption, reinforced with heavy chains and metal shackles at both ends. The structure looked designed to hold a body in a bent, exposed position. Kelly’s eyes flicked toward the platform for only a second before returning to the foot in front of her. She sucked harder on the Snatcher’s long black-painted toes, her tongue lapping desperately between them as thick drool ran down her chin and onto the floor. Her body trembled with exhaustion and fear, but she did not stop.

One of the men walked into the room leading a massive black stallion. The horse’s coat was dark and glossy, almost unnatural in appearance, and between its legs hung an enormous, heavy cock that swung with each step. The sheer size of it was monstrous, far larger than anything human. Kelly’s eyes widened in pure terror the moment she understood. Her sucking faltered for a split second as the reality of her final fate sank in. Still, she forced herself to continue. She opened her mouth wider and took more of the Snatcher’s toes between her lips, sucking with renewed, almost frantic effort. Her tongue worked desperately between the long toes, coating them in thick saliva as she tried to show she was still willing. She knew this was the last torture, and she was terrified the Snatcher might change her mind if she showed any hesitation. So she kept licking and sucking with every last bit of strength she had left, her eyes glassy with fear while the massive stallion was led closer to the platform.

The Snatcher kicked Kelly away from her foot, sending the broken woman sprawling onto the floor with a spray of saliva. She then gave a silent nod to the two men.

They moved quickly. Grabbing Kelly under her arms and legs, they lifted her limp body and carried her to the pommel horse contraption. They forced her onto her stomach across the padded surface, then began securing her. Thick leather straps were fastened tightly around her waist, pinning her down. Her wrists were pulled forward and locked into metal shackles at the front of the device, while her ankles were spread and chained to the rear posts. The height of the pommel horse forced her burned feet onto their tiptoes, her ruined legs trembling as she struggled to maintain any balance.

Comment too long, view post No.31338 to see the full comment.

I like Mac's pictures too.

>>31114
I don't set that, it's an automatic feature of Pixiv :) I guess it's based in word count and average reading speed?

>>31115
Exactly, I haven't found a free AI program that doesn't have the issue with hands and feet and ocasionally facial features. There are a couple of free programs that will do corrections but most of them won't work with obviously underage characters. Perchance has a "seed" option that allows you to make clone images that can sometimes correct the distortions. If the distortion isn't too bad, I will often hand correct with paint and/or photoshop.

BTW, I like your pictures as well

>>31122

That’s the approach I take, too. The "seed" function is very helpful. Sometimes—or actually quite often—I get the feeling that the AI ​​intentionally sabotages image quality and deliberately introduces errors when dealing with sensitive topics. Switching languages ​​can be helpful for sensitive subjects, as the terminology tends to be less heavily censored. My main account is now following you on Pixiv; if you take a look at the cover images for my stories, you’ll know who I am there. Pixiv makes it easier to interact.

>>31117

So, it’s a feature that Pixiv displays incorrectly. Haha. I often have your stories read aloud to me. This story took at least twice as long as Pixiv’s buggy display suggests. But that’s not a problem; after all, I need entertainment while I work on my projects. Thanks for sharing your imagination with us.

This one is mine ^^
I'm happy you liked it enough to repost!

(note: Last time I tried posting with my old pseudo "∀x ∃y / y=porn(x)", modern Gurochan treated it as a tripcode -- It will probably happen again)

Just discovered this: https://nhentai.net/g/655702/
Seems relevant.

>>30774
Thanks a lot for this amazing discovery.

>>30780
One of the best stories on this board ever, glad to see it continues to have a cultural impact.

>>31068
Thank you!