After for some extensive search, I found the first part of the story. Anyone else knows the whereabout of the second part?

https://www.reddit.com/r/SOS_Brigade/comments/8yyswj/the_debreasting_of_haruhi_suzumiya/

Tags: (tween, teen, dolcett, sidneyverse, cannibalism, throat slitting, various cooking methods)

Daisy tried to shift her weight to alleviate some of the discomfort of her position. It helped a little, but there was no going around it; the meat hooks currently piercing her ankles hurt, especially now that her whole weight rested on them. However, it was not as bad as she'd feared, and she quickly consoled herself. The pain would only be temporary.

Daisy's twelve year old heart was beating quickly in her chest, so she took a deep breath to calm herself. Her nostrils filled with the sweet, metallic smell of blood, but also with the aroma of arousal and lust. It reminded her of the way her fingers would smell after an evening spent rubbing her pussy, often while looking at the pictures in the Sidney's catalogue.

The hooks in Daisy's legs were connected to a wire, which in turn was driven by a mechanism in the ceiling. With a whir and some metallic clanking noises it periodically activated, sending the girls connected to them forward. The distance varied each time, sometimes she would only reach the spot of the girl in front of her, sometimes she seemed to cover the distance of four or five girls in one go.

Daisy had never felt so exposed before, hanging there completely naked and defenseless. Her arms had been tied tightly behind her back, and when she had tried to break free, of course strictly out of curiosity, and not out of a desire to actually do so, she had found that the knots didn't give at all. Her sense of vulnerability was amplified by the metal bar mounted between her ankles, forcing her to spread her legs wide and provide everyone with an unobstructed view of her most private parts. Normally her baby pink, meaty pussy lips would at least be somewhat concealed by a small patch of red, curly pubic hair, but her cute little bush had been removed the previous night together with the rest of her body hair, courtesy of a mandatory and highly efficient hair removal cream. Like all the girls that had long enough hair, her wild mop of ginger curls was tied up in what was supposed to be a neat ponytail, but her unruly, frizzy hair had resisted. It had turned out more like a messy bun, as if she'd just gotten out of bed. The resulting look was a mix between girl-next-door and dungeon sex slave, and it made her stand out from the crowd.

On Daisy's left side, one step ahead of her in the line, was her best friend Claire. Claire had dirty blonde, straight hair, an impressive bust for her age and a beautiful slit between her legs, barely more than a line formed by her very puffy outer lips, only interrupted by her clitoral hood just poking out between them. Claire moaned sweetly as the hooks pulled her forward, and Daisy couldn't tell if it was from pleasure or pain. Perhaps both, she thought.

On her right side was a petite Asian girl the two friends had met just a few minutes earlier in the cleaning area. They had found conversation somewhat difficult while being hosed down with water by the workers, being commanded into very revealing and indecent postures to make sure every nook and cranny of their nubile bodies was hit by the spray of warm, soapy water. Daisy had despite that managed to pick up that the girl was also twelve, was called Jin and went to a neighboring school that she and Claire sometimes competed against in sports tournaments.

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The sun had finally set beyond the horizon, which meant Camilla had now been dying for five and a half hours. It'd taken her a little while to work that out but now her latest attempt to distract herself from the horror of her situation had ended and the pain was still there. More than ever, in fact. She'd thought it'd get easier to bear over time, that her senses would dull to it from exhaustion or just familiarity. The opposite had happened. The stabbing pain of the nails pinning her to the instrument of her death had been joined by a less sharp but more insistent ache as every muscle in her body burned from exertion. Her throat was sore, long screamed hoarse. Her wounds were throbbing, as was her head. It felt as though another set of nails was being pounded into her temples.

Camilla would have welcomed that. Early on in her torment she'd tried to knock herself unconscious by slamming the back of her head into the cross but she'd remained stubbornly aware of her body and what had been done to it.

It was a strange thing, she thought, to wish for death. In truth, she was still terrified of her young life's impending cessation, but by now if it meant an end to her agony she could accept that.

She wanted to die...and she couldn't. Her body would not let her. She'd tried hanging still, just letting the darkness take her, but the pain had only grown until she'd once again raised herself up on trembling, nailed legs to draw another breath. Her exertion had been accompanied by laughter, taunts and jeers. She'd still had an audience, then. Cheering, shouting insults, a cacophony of voices, a clatter of dice...

…

"These new taxes will be the death of us!", Andreas complained loudly, waving his wine-cup in the air and spilling half of its contents. The old oil-trader had been drinking for quite some time already, and Camilla thought it was probably time to cut him off. She looked around for her uncle, but he was nowhere in sight.
"I agree, but what can you do?"
That was Decimus pulcher, who kept a vegetable stall on the other side of the marketplace. A lot less pretty than his cognomen would suggest, he was a veteran of the legions who'd decided he'd rather settle down here in Syria than return to his native Ancona. His service had left him with a few missing teeth, a broken nose that now sat a bit crooked and a vivid red scar across his cheek. "This new Caesar has grand plans, apparently. Expensive plans. And our dear governor..." he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm (and wine), "well, he won't have it said that Syria did not contribute its share, oh no!"

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School Festival

Chapter One, Intro and Swim Club (Cons/Semi Cons, Watersports, Drowning)

Each year the local high school runs a festival and each year many beautiful and sexy young women meet their end promoting their various clubs and classes. Of course not only do students participate in these events, many attendees either volunteer or are volunteered to join in the festivities.

This year I approached the gate to see a trio of sexy young girls in revealing attire handing out pamphlets to those walking in. One girl, wearing a short tartan skirt, thigh high stockings, a bikini top and a tie (in what appears to be a parody of the schoolgirl uniforms of old), noticed me walking up and handed me a pamphlet.

"Have you been to one of our festivals in the past?" she asks me.

"Yes, I've been to the last three I think, one of the things I look forward to most each year"

"Well welcome back, I'm sure you remember but that pamphlet has a schedule of all the timed events, and a map with all the other events and booths on the back." "If you have something specific you want to do, make sure you plan around it, some of these lines can get a little long to hop in right when the schedule lists"

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The Last Field Trip

Chapter One, Intro and First Exhibit (Non-Con, Watersports, Young)

I was laying in my bed on a Saturday morning when I was roused from my sleep by the sound of my phone ringing. Grunting, I held up one arm to shield my unadjusted eyes from the sun's ray's bleeding through my blinds while my other arm reached for my phone, to determine the identity of whoever it is that has deigned to interrupt my rest. It was Nick, My own Brother, Nick, who had committed this grievous sin of waking at this ungodly hour of 11:42.

“What do you want Nick?” I grumbled upon answering the phone.

“Oops, did I wake you? Must have figured the time zone wrong, thought it was almost noon for you.” He replied, sounding to me more that a little sarcastic.

“Shut up,” I said. “Now you gonna get to the point or should I just hang up?”

“Alright alright” He said. “You know how I was asking you for advice on engagement rings a couple weeks back?”

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From now on, instead of flooding the board by posting each story in a new thread, all of my stories will be posted here. (Fanbox promotions will still be in a separate thread.)

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The Dancing Lady

yuri, lesbian, cons(FF), rape(FF), gore, vore, cannibalism, paranormal, ghost
Who was she? Who was that woman across the street?

Noy adjusted her glasses and wiped her breath from the window. The woman twirled and pranced around the room. A sheet of platinum flowed behind her and settled around her hips when she stopped.

It started six days ago. Something flashed in the corner of Noy’s eye as she hung paper ghosts over her computer. She turned her head as a blonde woman leapt across the window. Noy finished hanging the ghosts and climbed on the bed, wrapping her arms around her pillows as she stared wide-eyed out the window. The woman danced for hours without stopping. She was there the next day, dancing away. She was there the day after that and every day after that. She wore the same old-timey dress, so white it seemed to glow.


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The golden rays of the sun glinting off the chain-link fences as the crowd’s cheers echoed in the warm air. It was the final match of the junior girls’ tennis tournament, and the tension was palpable.

Two girls stood at opposite ends of the court, sweat glistening on their foreheads, rackets clenched tightly in their hands. The score was tied, and every point mattered now. On one side was Lily, calm and collected despite the pressure. On the other side was Ava, her energy fierce and determined, her every move a reflection of her burning desire to win.

The final rally was brutal. Ava lunged for every shot, her shoes skidding across the court, her muscles burning. Lily matched her step for step, her strokes measured and precise. The crowd held its breath as the ball sailed back and forth, faster and faster, until finally—
Ava missed.

The ball clipped the net and dropped to the ground. The match was over. Lily had won.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Ava stared at the ball, her chest heaving, the loss crashing over her like a wave. Then she dropped to her knees, her racket clattering to the ground. Tears welled in her eyes, hot and uncontrollable. She’d been so close. So close.

The crowd erupted into cheers for Lily, but she barely heard them. Her eyes stayed fixed on Ava, who knelt alone on the court, shoulders shaking as she sobbed. The victory, so hard-fought, didn’t feel quite right. Lily hesitated, then set her racket aside and crossed the court.

Ava didn’t look up until Lily was right in front of her.

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"Hi everyone," Lillian said with a smile.

The stunning, fourteen year old brunette stood naked in front of the camera, displaying her magnificent young body to her followers for the last time.
She had firm, round breasts with big, stiff pink nipples. Her waist was exquisitely narrow, her belly flat as a board. Her lean, supple legs seemed to go on forever. Her straight, glossy hair fell all the way down to her heart-shaped ass; her bald pussy smiled invitingly at the audience.

"As you all know, I've been in pain for years," she continued. "I love it."

The audience gazed admiringly at the proof of Lillian's pain. She wore studs through both nipples; there was a ring in her navel, and a stud in her clit. Her breasts and belly were crisscrossed with pink sores.

"I've been hurting myself for almost three years now," Lillian said. "I've tried it all: cuts, electric shocks, branding. All of it's been wonderful, in its own way. But lately I've come to feel that I've reached the limits of what pain can teach me. In the past years, I've developed quite a talent for hurting myself without causing any permanent damage to my body. If I chose to continue in this vein, I could look forward to a long life of blissful agony, and that's a fine thing.
But it's not enough. Lately I've been feeling empty, like something's missing from my life. I've thought long and hard about this, and I've come to an important decision.
My pain is always incomplete because I'm always still alive at the end. I've tortured myself a thousand times, but I've never tortured myself to death. That's what's missing, and that's why you're here now. I know you all enjoy the sight of a beautiful young girl in agony--and who doesn't?
So I've decided to give you a special treat, a special show. I'm going to snuff myself, slowly and with as much pain as possible, right before your eyes."

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The soft glow of sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns across the ornate church interior. Nathalie, the maid of honor, noticed Molly, the flower girl, fidgeting nervously beside her.

Leaning down, Nathalie whispered, "Are you excited about Stella's big day?"

Molly nodded, her wide eyes fixed on the bride but then sighed softly.

"She's so beautiful. It's a shame I won't be a bride." she murmured.

Nathalie smiled warmly, placing a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder.

"You might not be, but Stella is so proud of you for being here for her."

Molly's lips curved into a small smile, her confidence bolstered by Nathalie’s words.

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The jungle had kept its secret well. For centuries, it had embraced the ancient stones, vines curling possessively around the remains of a civilization that had once thrived. Now, after weeks of backbreaking work under the sweltering sun, Professor Saskia Wallace and her team of archaeologists stood in awe of their discovery: an ancient Aztec settlement.

The clearing was alive with activity as the team worked to remove the last stubborn clumps of vegetation. Saskia, a tall and commanding figure with sharp features and eyes that burned with curiosity, stood beside her assistant, Marcus, as they gazed at the settlement's crown jewel—a massive temple pyramid rising from the earth like a stone giant.

"Incredible," Marcus breathed, wiping sweat from his brow. "It’s been here all along, waiting for us. Look at the carvings—they’re still so detailed."

Saskia's face broke into a triumphant smile. "It’s not just incredible, Marcus. It’s history brought back to life. Think of what we can learn here. The stories these walls could tell."

The temple’s facade was adorned with intricate symbols and reliefs—warriors, serpents, and figures that could only represent Aztec deities. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across its stone steps, as if inviting them closer.

Marcus turned to his mentor, a gleam of mischief in his eye.

“You know, Professor, this feels like something worth celebrating. We just uncovered a piece of the ancient world… Maybe we should mark the occasion.”

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"Tablesaw ride! Tablesaw ride!" a casually and somewhat slobbily dressed young woman was calling out next to - what do you think - a tablesaw, at the fair.

"Tablesaw ride?" a young woman dressed for the fair came up to the table.

"Tablesaw ride!" the proprietor agreed, fixing a lock of hair. It didn't stay behind her ear - she looked like she just rolled out of bed without bothering to fix the hairstyle she'd made several days ago. "Would you like to try it? Just $20 a ride!"

"$20..." the customer frowned thoughtfully. She was blonde, fairly short and slim, with only the flowers on her blouse and earrings indicating her gender. She twirled her tote bag around her hand.

"...Nah," she decided. "I'll spend the rest of my money first, I think."

"A wise choice!" the proprietor called out after her as she sashayed away, her eyes already on the carousel. "Do come back!"

"I'd like a ride, please," a shy middle school looking girl was stretching her hand with a rumpled twenty towards the woman.

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Candidacy in Question (snuff, loli, shota, military, war, politics, kidnapping, assassination, conspiracy)

1. I am a fairly new erotica writer and as such am hungry for constructive criticism and feedback on my work. This story has been posted on multiple platforms. Please let me know in the comments or via whatever messaging platform is available what you thought of the story, even if you did not like it at all. The only exception to this call for feedback is that if you wish to criticize this kind of (violent, sexual, underage) content, please rather keep it to yourself. If you do not mind this kind of content or enjoy it, but nonetheless feel this story is subpar, do engage.

2. This story is only an exercise in catharsis – its content and characters are entirely fictional and do not represent any real-world preferences or desires. If you are easily offended by themes or literary portrayals of parental betrayal, extreme sexual violence, and underage characters engaged in sexual and violent scenes, please do not read any further than this.

3. If you enjoyed this story, let me know. That's the only way I know to write more!

4. This is a standalone prequel to "Fooling Around Under the Table" (https://boards.guro.cx/lit/res/25615.html), meaning that either story can be read in isolation. Both stories exist in the same universe as "The Borderland" (https://boards.guro.cx/lit/res/26628.html).

***

Chapter 1 - Our Established Order

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Arianna walked slowly towards the looming noose. She knew that she had deserved her sentence but still she feared the punishment. She was only twelve years old and she didn't want to die, not painfully anyway and certainly not today.

Yet, that was exactly what was going to happen in just a few minutes: the noose would slowly stretch her neck and she was going to suffocate, her suffering drawn on for as long as possible.

She raised her bounded hands, took hold of the noose and, reaching out on her feet's ball, she put her head in it. Having to pull herself up was part of the humiliation in the punishment, she knew. As well as the leering crowd her dad invited to watch her last moments of life. she kept her eyes closed, hoping to ignore these people for as long as possible. Not that she could really do anything, with their voices shouting insults and comments at her since the moment she arrived on the platform.

Then she herd his voice, loud in the room, silencing all the others at once. "Arianna, you've been found masturbating for the third time while under strict orders of not touching your own body in any way."

The reproach in his tone was razor cold on her lingering hope of escaping her destiny.

"Your sentence will be to hang on a noose until death."

The crowd approved loudly.

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I couldn't get this story out of my head, even though it doesn't have anything to do with my usual subject, pregnancy. I even tried adding pregnant elements to the story, but it didn't work. It's just a sweet, final moment in the life of a mom and her little girl.


Lemons, a quick story of dinner time. (Ff, implied snuff/cann, no sex)


I told my daughter, "It's almost dark, baby. Time to go home and fix dinner."

"I don't wanna go home!" she protested, as only a five-year-old can. "I want to stay here forever and ever!"

"Do you really want to stay at the playground forever? For the rest of your life?"

She nodded emphatically. "Uh huh!"

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I've had a lot of ideas for stories lately, but I struggle to write longer stories. So I figured the best thing to do was to create a setting where I can place several shorter stories - and here it is. One of the stories has been posted before, so mods, feel free to delete that one. Hope you enjoy!