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!

Balrog grinned as he circled the beaten, half-conscious form of Chun-Li. She was past her prime now, no match for him, but once upon a time, she had been a fierce warrior. Her tits swung loosely as she breathed heavily, struggling to stay conscious. Blood poured from her nose and mouth, staining her impressive chest.

The crowd roared as Balrog closed in for the kill, throwing punch after punch at the old bitch's face, splitting her lip and breaking her nose. Her tits bounced with each hit, her body jolting with the force of each punch. She had been rendered near completely naked, her clothes torn off during the fight. Her large breasts swung freely, nipples hard from the pain. The only pieces of modesty left to her were her golden bracelets and a single blue heeled shoe.

Balrog reveled in her humiliation. He tore at her tits, twisting her nipples until she screamed, then punched her in the stomach, causing her to double over in pain. She was completely helpless, unable to defend herself. He grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the ground, then kicked her in the cunt, causing her to cry out in pain. He grabbed her by the throat and squeezed, cutting off her air. She struggled, trying to break free, but he was too strong. He laughed as she gasped for breath, her face turning red. He squeezed tighter, feeling her life slipping away.

Suddenly, he stopped. He looked down at her, his cock rock hard. He wanted to fuck her, to make her suffer even more. He dropped to his knees and spread her legs, then shoved his cock inside her. Chun-li was fading in and out of consciousness, but when she felt his invasion she let out a hoarse scream until he punched her in the face, her head snapping to the side with a wet slap. She was dry but tight, her pussy squeezing his cock harder every time he hit her. He started to fuck her, hard and fast, slamming his cock into her over and over again while continuing to rain down blows.

The crowd went wild as they watched the seasoned fighter being brutally raped. They cheered and jeered, calling her names and telling her to scream louder. Balrog laughed as he fucked her, enjoying the humiliation and degradation of a woman once called the strongest in the world.

Chun-Li's daughter, Li-Fen, watched from the crowd. She was horrified, the woman who had raised her and taught her everything, who she had stayed by all her life was beaten and broken in front of her. Li-Fen thought her mother was invincible, but she was being raped right before her eyes. She couldn't believe what she was seeing, but she couldn't look away. She started to touch herself, her pussy wet and throbbing. She watched as Balrog fucked her mother, her eyes wide and her body shivering in a shocked haze.

Balrog grunted as he came, filling Chun-Li's womb with his cum. He pulled out and stood up, looking down at her. She was barely conscious, her body battered and bruised. He smiled and squatted next to her, putting his hands on her head. He considered her for a moment, remembering the fighter Chun-Li used to be, the one that could justly be called the strongest women in the world. He thought about her hopes and dreams and wondered what she had been planning to do after the fight. Then with a quick jerk of his powerful arms he unceremoniously snapped her neck, killing her instantly.

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One Hell of a Christmas Rescue (loli, snuff, guro, object insertion)

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. While this story is part of the "Denizens of Shelton County" universe, it is a standalone story that can be read and enjoyed in isolation.

***

Ralph Stanton kissed his wife Myra's hand, and began working his way up her arm, stopping when he got to her neck. They were both naked on their bed and he was trying to work them both back into action.

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The elevator hummed softly as it descended, carrying Matthew and his daughter Laura down to the ground floor of the grand seaside hotel. The mirrored walls reflected the two of them—Matthew, with his neatly trimmed beard and casual linen shirt, and Laura, her curly hair tied back, sporting a vibrant sundress that matched her youthful energy.

Laura broke the comfortable silence.

“Dad, why do you think the people with green wristbands do it?”

Matthew glanced down at his daughter, his brow furrowing slightly.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “Maybe it’s about money. I think some of them are contracted by the hotel for a lot of money. Or maybe it’s boredom. They’re looking for something different to pass the time.”

He hesitated, then added, “Sometimes people get obsessed with perverted things. Do I have to tell you how deep the dark well of the soul can be?”

“That was very poetic.”

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It was nearly dusk when Martin heard the faint shuffle of footsteps outside. From his living room window, he could see shadows stretching long across his yard as the sun dipped below the rooftops. He sighed, placing his beer on the coffee table. Probably the neighbor’s cat again. The old tabby had a habit of getting into his garbage.

But when he stepped outside, Martin froze. A couple of teenagers were behind his garage. It took him a second to process it: a boy with shaggy brown hair and a girl kneeling in front of him.

“Mmm! Yeah, that's it, baby. Take it all the way down your throat. I...oh! “ moaned the boy.

His garage! Of all places.

“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing back here?” Martin barked, his voice cutting through the quiet like a whip.

The two teens sprang apart like startled animals. The girl gasped and the boy nearly tripped over his own feet. He zipped up his fly. For a moment, they stood there, staring at Martin, their faces pale with shock.

“S-sorry, sir,” the boy stammered. He looked awkward and gangly, and clearly not ready for this confrontation.

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The staff locker room buzzed with chatter as the caddies of Fairway Hills Golf Club gathered after a long day. Andy had just returned, his face pale but determined. The room fell silent as the boys leaned in, their curiosity piqued.

“So, why did the secretary call you?” one of them asked, breaking the tension.

Andy hesitated before speaking, his voice steady but subdued.

“The members voted for me to present the grand prize at the end-of-year ball.”

A ripple of understanding swept through the room. They all knew what this meant. The chosen caddie’s family would receive a significant sum of money—enough to change their lives. But the price was steep. The boy would have to endure an evening as the club’s entertainment, a humiliating and painful tradition cloaked in the guise of pomp and ceremony.

“Damn,” muttered Jake, the eldest caddie, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Andy.”

Another boy clapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations, I guess. That’s a lot of money for your family.”

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The studio buzzed with excitement as Eliana stepped onto the stage, her radiant smile beaming under the bright lights. The audience erupted into applause, their anticipation palpable.
"Welcome, everyone!" Eliana greeted, her voice warm and inviting.

"Tonight, we have a very special guest joining us. Straight from the pages of the Hansel and Gretel fairy tale, please welcome the witch herself!"

The applause grew thunderous as the witch strode in, her long hat tilted jauntily atop her head and her cloak flowing dramatically behind her.
But she wasn’t the hunched, hideous figure of folklore. Instead, she was a strikingly beautiful woman in her thirties, with sharp cheekbones and piercing green eyes.

She waved elegantly to the crowd before taking a seat on the plush couch next to Eliana.

"You look nothing like I imagined," Eliana admitted, still studying her guest. "I was expecting… a long, warty nose, maybe some wrinkled skin."

The witch chuckled, her laugh light and melodic. "Ah, but I am all those things, my dear. I’m ancient, a true hag by all accounts. It’s only with a bit of magic that you all see me as this."

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“...these events were always public in the Middle Ages. In addition to entertaining the masses, they also had a deterrent effect. “

The classroom buzzed with the quiet hum of backpacks zipping and notebooks closing as the history lesson drew to a close. Sunlight poured through the window, pooling across the teacher’s desk, where Ms. Jennings stood with her hands clasped in front of her. She smiled, her eyes sweeping over the students.

“Before we wrap up, I’d like to ask for a volunteer for next week’s presentation.”

Her voice was warm, encouraging, but the request brought a familiar wave of tension to the room.
Some students looked away, suddenly preoccupied with their shoelaces or the smudge on their desks. A few glanced at one another, silently daring someone else to step up.

Then, from the middle row, a hand shot up without hesitation.

“I’ll do it,” said Oliver.


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Tags: consensual, cannibalism, loli, infant, gory snuff


We are having some very special events in our household leading up to Christmas, and my husband and I thought it would be interesting to write out what a couple of our special meatgirls thought about them. The older one mostly wrote her story on her own, but the younger one was born as a meatgirl, so obviously she had to dictate it and I did the actual writing. It's a bit rough and I had to help get her back on topic a few times, but I mostly edited out the irrelevant stuff, like that long tangent about the neighbor's dog. I tried not to interrupt her, but sometimes I couldn't help it. Hope you enjoy their story.


Young breeder
I did it! I'm finally a real breeder, like meat-mama. Meat-mama is the breeder meatgirl who birthed me, by the way. Obviously, she and I are just meat, so we don't really have stuff like names and parents, but Master really likes it when I call her that. Apparently, meat-mama used to have a name and wear clothes and do all that stuff that real girls do, but then she volunteered to be meat before I was born, so now she is one of Master and Mistress's breeders. It's so weird to think of her in clothes; I can't even imagine it.

But, like I was saying, I just gave birth for the first time a few days ago! It hurt a whole lot, but everybody was so proud of me and told me they've been waiting a long time for this suckling to be born. Of course, I've been waiting for Master to breed me for a long, long time, too, but I guess Master and meat-mama have been planning on how to snuff this one since forever ago, even before I was born.

My milk has started, too, which really made me happy. I love helping to feed the sucklings; it feels soo nice and it reminds me that I'm not just one of the piglets: I'm all grown up. The milk has made my little titties get bigger faster than ever, so now they make me look grown up, too. Meat-mama says I'm thirteen years old now, which is a lot. I know it's a lot, 'cause she said thirteen is more than all my fingers. Also, she said that's how old she was when she first became a meatgirl. I guess that makes meat-mama super old, like probably almost all my fingers and toes, too. Maybe a hundred.


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