This story was inspired by the amazing poster for the godawful 1987 movie R.O.T.O.R.

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0098156/mediaviewer/rm3496186881/

It contains neck breaking, debreasting, beheading, amputation (legs and pussy), and death by blunt trauma.


The Meat Machines

“The meat machines are here,” Debbie said, pointing at the entryway of the food court.

Charlotte perked up, turning away from her latte to look.


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The Warrior-Queen Eleanor was famously beautiful. She had come from a long family line of gorgeous noblewomen, though none save her had reached the throne. Her kind smile had stolen the heart of many a man and her hard-willed gaze had marked the ruin of many an enemy. Flowing auburn-red hair framed her sculpted features, and her body was defined not only by the curves of her wide hips, slender waist, and perky breasts, but also by the toned muscle that lie beneath her pale white skin.

When the atrocities committed by the now-deposed king grew too terrible, and the country reached its breaking point, Eleanor seized the opportunity to lead a revolt to strike down the cruel king. With her knightly order of celibate warrior-women, she led an army to the capital, conquering and gaining support wherever she marched. By the time she reached the capital, no mortal armies could stand against her might. Her victory was swift, and the cruel king was executed by the Warrior-Queen herself.

She had never taken a husband nor bedded a man, of course, as she had sworn herself to celibacy like her sword-sisters. She retook this vow when she ascended the throne, declaring that the her beauty, and the beauty of those of her sisterly order, belonged only to the gods.

It was at that moment that I knew that I needed to put her in her place.

At times, the mortals forget about the power that my kind wields over their domain. Although direct intervention is uncommon, expressions of our pleasure or displeasure are seen commonly enough throughout the world of men. And the transgressions of the Warrior-Queen Eleanor were greater than had been seen in a generation; their flagrancy burned me like a hot iron. To condemn her own beauty to a life of virginity was vulgar enough, but to damn entire legions of beautiful warrior-women to celibacy was an unthinkable crime against my authority. Such defiance demanded a commensurate punishment.

My names were many. To those who feared me and spoke of me only in euphemism, I was the Carnal Lord, or the Ravager of Beauty. To those who did not shy from my true nature, I was the Lord of Rape, the Corpse-maker and Corpse-fucker, Raper of Daughters and Mothers. My realm was the violation of innocents and the rape of all that was good and beautiful.

My demons were feared by mortals and immortals alike, for where they walked they left scenes of sickening debauchery where there had once been grace and beauty. When they descended upon a town, their razor-sharp claws bested even the sharpest mortal blade, and their barbed cocks destroyed their defeated victims and left only shredded meat behind. I myself was the greatest among them, more than double the height of a man and with a wingspan wider still. My body was hard muscle, my skin was covered in black scales harder than steel, and my horns were larger than an ox’s. My massive barbed cock was larger than any other, and it was perpetually crowned by a living cocksleeve that I had honored with a life of profane servitude.

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I hope you enjoy this. I'm open to any story ideas you have, including fanfiction if it's a property I'm familiar with. No underage, no scat.


Dick McDonald's Revenge

I snapped my fingers and pointed down, and they both got on their knees – a stacked blonde in a loose, low-cut minidress that showed a delicious expanse of creamy cleavage, and a slender Asian in tight white hot pants and a cute rock and roll T-shirt.

I was sitting on the edge of a fountain in the campus center, trying to concentrate on my textbook in the midst of a vast array of luscious feminine creatures, and I’d finally called it. There was just no point in pretending to study until I’d drained my balls a few times, and the two delicacies kneeling in front of me now were the closest and cutest available.

It took a few seconds for me to shuck my jeans as the Asian chick lifted my shirt over my head, and then they were off to the races – the blonde taking a minute to give me bedroom eyes as the Asian stuffed her mouth with my balls.

“What’s your name, stud?” the blonde asked, stroking my dick up and down as her friend slobbered noisily on my nutsack.


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PART 1

Nicole loved to draw snuff in school. Her notebooks and sketchbooks were filled with doodles and art of little anime girls getting fucked, beaten, and killed in various ways. She still had some work to do on proportions and technique, but for a 4th grader she wasn't half bad! She'd even been getting great feedback on the boards where she posted some of her work, mostly from horny older guys (and a few really cool girls) talking about how much her art turned them on, and it was giving her tons of motivation to keep improving.

"Nicole sweetie," her teacher said, interrupting her reverie as she sketched with red and black colored pencils with one hand and masturbated with the other, "the bell rang ten minutes ago. You're going to miss the bus." Nicole had been so absorbed thinking about all the hard pervert cocks and wet pussies being rubbed and stroked to her work that she hadn't noticed!

"Oh fuck... whoops," she muttered, earning a slightly admonishing glance from Mrs. K for the language, but these days even the strictest teachers were basically used to it. Nicole stood up and started packing her things, a bit clumsily and one-handed as she was still absently toying with her cunny inside her little pink shorts. She finally took her hand out only when it was time to zip up her backpack and sling it over her shoulders. Partly she had been putting on a show for Mrs. K - since they were alone in the room together, Nicole just couldn't resist - and she noticed her pretending to be very busy shuffling some papers around her desk while occasionally glancing up and quickly looking away again.

"Shit, I did miss the bus," Nicole giggled as she watched it drive off from out of the window as she was crossing the classroom to the door. "Oh well."

"Oh, dear... are you going to walk home sweetie? Do you need a ride? I can give you one if you wait a bit," Mrs. K said with some mild concern. "I just don't want anything to happen to you walking home dressed like that..."

"Nahhhh it's fine," Nicole said casually, coming to a halt at the side of the desk, her legs spread wide and toes pointing inwards as she leaned forward in a cute kittenish pose to say goodbye, head cocked slightly to one side leaving her brunette pigtails bouncing playfully for a moment. Her nearly see-through white spaghetti strap top fell loosely off her tiny frame when she did so, so that Mrs. K could see right down the front of her flat chest with her little pink nipples. Her low-cut shorts were left unbuttoned and unzipped leaving little to the imagination and displaying without a shadow of a doubt that she wasn't wearing any underwear, and the only other thing she had on were her worn pink flipflops, bare toes painted in cute bubblegum nail polish, and a couple of those charm bracelets popular with the kids made with little plastic stars and hearts and letter tiles spelling out things like F U C K T O Y and R A P E ♥ M E.

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Chapter One: Incubator

The constant breeze was humid and warm, felt almost alive. It was too dark to see, but by the way the air touched the more sensitive areas of her body, Libby realized that she was naked. She felt dizzy, disoriented, and she couldn't move. What exactly was going on? A slow, deep drumming rhythm like a giant's heartbeat filled her ears and vibrated in her chest. Libby had been stripped bare against her will, without a clue how she got here, or where "here" was. Had someone spiked her drink at the bar and taken her somewhere?

That possibility reminded Libby of her academy training. The cases were always similar: Woman parties at bar, gets drugged and taken to the perpetrator's hideout… But there was no soreness between her legs. She hadn't been violated. At least not this way… But her throat felt fine too. Then again, her whole body felt kind of numb. A new realization interrupted her train of thought: In her mind, that woman at the bar was some anonymous, theoretical victim she was meant to protect. Now, that Libby instead paid attention to her own naked body, her abstract training instructions met reality in a disjunction of anxiety. Slowly, her eyes adapted to the gloom. Flowing lines appeared and formed patterns of moist reflective, surfaces.

She tried to stay calm, to figure out where exactly she was: Leaning against the wall of a large, circular chamber weakly lit by a surreal bioluminescence she now started to perceive as bluish green. Only it was no chamber: Every surface was glistening like wet skin, translucent even at some places, and fine purple veins spread through the floors and walls. The ceiling looked like a giant mushroom's head viewed from below, lamellae spanning from the outer walls to the center, where what looked like large eggs lined the slimy ground around a mushroom stem like pillar. And everything seemed to be breathing somehow, pulsing in a slow rhythm, like a giant organism. While all of this was disturbing, it played but the smallest role in Libby's discomfort. The actual horror emerged from the sight of all the other women and girls around her, arranged in a large circle in alcoves along the outer wall. Most of them looked younger than Libby's twenty-four years, and none much older. All of them were naked, their arms and legs held in place by what looked like tentacles growing from the organic walls of their prison. A few were moaning, a few sobbing, the tears of some ran in silent fear. Most were still unconscious. Maybe because of her training, maybe just to stay ahead of her growing dread, Libby counted them: two dozen young women, all off them bound, all of them naked.
With quite some effort, her head was all that she was able to move. She felt the warm, moist wall pressing against the skin of her back as well as the rigid tentacles that bound her arms and legs in a degrading X-pose. And while Libby's sense of touch seemed fine, her ability to move was not. The tentacles holding her in place appeared weak enough for a physically fit girl like her to rip free, but when she tried to do just that, her limbs only answered with a slight tingling sensation. Another chill went down her spine as she realized that the women weren't simply bound to the wall. All of them, including herself, were being held in place, their limbs paralyzed. She felt even more violated at the powerlessness.

"Hello?" Only when the wispy voice broke it, Libby realized how pressing the silence had been so far.

Libby whispered an answer and found her jaw to move sluggish at first: "Yes, I hear you".


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Flesh sculptor

Fair-skinned slender woman, sunk deep into a soft black couch, clenching a piece of paper in her hand. olden wavey curls, harmonized perfectly with a red dress, gently flowed down her shoulders. Even pantry is probably luxurious in this place, she thought. Paintings hang from the walls depicted vaguely erotic scenes. Clock quietly counted seconds in hypnotic rhythm. If everything will go smoothly, this clock might be counting last minutes of her life, woman thought. Her hole career of an actress, a singer, splendor of high society and croud calling her name - Virginia, all of it secretly was leading to this moment. She once again unfolded the paper and looked at it. She had a goosebumps every time she read those big calligraphic words.

"Want to donate your body to art? Leonard Luther, sculptor of flesh, will make your beauty eternal with power of dollmaking."

Suddenly, her thoughts was interrupted by opened door. Fancy dressed secretary invited Virginia in. She nodded and walked through the door. After a short corridor she entered small cabinet, almost too modest compared to the rest of the mansion.

"Virgina, I presume? I can't say I'm a fan of your music, but I enjoy your movies." Young but dandy man behind the table looked up at Virginia.

"Thank you, sir. And you… must be Leonard?"


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This thing on? Alright the green light is blinking so it should be.

David you better appreciate this, your big brother is gonna record everything I do while deployed so you can learn what it’s like to be God’s soldier.

If you are not David, then let me introduce myself – Spc. Ishmael Calhoun, of the 5th ‘Samsons Seraphim’ Power Armor division. If you’re watching this, I hope you enjoy, little brother or otherwise. I gotta document all the fun stuff.

So, where to begin?

I remember when it first started. I was a little young’un of twelve years when the fifth wave feminists started their revolution. I remember my pa getting into an argument with my elder sister. The feminists had just laid a siege on the capitol, and it was apparent an insurrection was on the horizon. My sister had been completely taken in by the femme propaganda, so taken that she blew a hole in pa’s head.

She tried to kill me too, but I was a strong kid- she was four years older than me, but I played football, and she didn’t.

I still remember the sight of it. Rebecca in her pink polka dot pjs, lying on the linoleum floor of the family kitchen. Her messy auburn hair tussled about, her blue eyes staring emptily into the ceiling, tongue out since she was trying to catch breathe as I strangled her. Her budding breasts and slightly hairy snatch were exposed during the struggle (she hated underwear because it was a patriarchal imposition on women). She looked beautiful. I won’t lie, my first fap was over my sister’s corpse, that probably explains why my sexual inclinations are so fucked ha ha!

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i look for two stories that i cant find anymore
can you upload them plz if you have them plz
But why me mommy?
A psychopath and his toys
thx

Reposted by request. I might go back and add more if I feel like it, but for now here's what was in the thread before.

The Business Trip

Day 1

“Welcome to Risa 12.1, one of the shining jewels of the Risa system! Here you can find an introduction to what this beautiful moon has to offer as well as its rich history and culture.
History:
Risa 12.1 was actually colonized long before its sister world Risa 9, but in our case the world didn’t really open up to tourism on a large scale until much more recently. It was first settled 200 years ago by what is technically a cult, founded upon a belief that many of the modern world’s problems come from humans’ isolation of themselves from our world through covering up our bodies, especially the parts which would contact it most intimately - the feet.
The settlers developed a belief system centered around finding happiness in the world and in each other through going barefoot, and as is often the case with small societies, to protect their beliefs they grew more radical over time. Before long they had reached a point where all members had both of their arms removed at the shoulder in order to maximize the interactions of their feet with the world and with each other, a tradition which has been proudly continued on Risa 12.1 to this day.
For a while, the unusual policies of our founders largely minimized interest in tourism, but after Risa 9’s re-terraforming to make it into the beach world it is now, the entire Risa system received renewed attention from the travel industry, and now 12.1 has become nearly as popular a destination itself.
Culture:
As you most likely are aware, all residents born on Risa 12.1 have their arms removed at birth, and all immigrants are required to submit to a double shoulder disarticulation on arrival, coupled with a NanoBlock injection. In recent decades, the rules have been relaxed somewhat, and visitors are allowed to wear a pair of cybernetic arms, although you’ll likely find little use for them during your stay!
Shoes do not exist on Risa 12.1, and consequently for the duration of your visit we strongly encourage you to follow suit and keep your feet bare. Don’t worry about this, as heated floors and clean, plush carpets await you everywhere you go.
It may seem odd at first, but 12.1’s barefoot policies have been shown through professional studies to have contributed vitally to its present happy and peaceful culture. People on the moon have some of the strongest and happiest relationships anywhere in the known universe: they communicate better, work better together, and rarely have fights or fallings out. This is both due to the psychological benefits of constantly touching and sensing the outside world and the increased incentive for teamwork and trust among people who go barefoot together and lack the unnecessary convenience of hands. We’re confident that after a few days here, you’ll agree!
Attractions:

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Honestly the sheer lack of guro literature around the Islamic tradition is bothering me, and since Eid aka Islamic sacrifice holiday is now here I decided to write one. Heads up this is my first attempt at writing.

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This is my first attempt at something remotely resembling a story, so my apologies if its not perfectly readable, or very fap-worthy. One of the reasons I wrote this is that the only other story that really 'clicked' with me was Madame Butterfly, and the lack of other stories based around seppuku. Anyway, rant over, hope you all enjoy the story, and please leave feedback, or any corrections, or just take the story and rework it if you want, I'm fine with anything really.

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The chirping of birds, the sound of leaves gently rustling in the wind, the annoying buzz of an alarm clock.

"Oh come on," Laura groaned.

Eyes still shut, she flailed her arms in an attempt to silence the alarm clock, eventually managing to land a hit; setting it to snooze. It was 6:30 AM, and on a Monday to boot. Yet another boring, and long week of high school lay ahead of her. The only motivation she had left at this point was that it would all end soon - she was in her final year, after which she could get a job, maybe go university, or take a break from it all, and travel.

"Just a few more weeks of this bullshit," she thought, slowly dragging herself out of bed.

Laura moved towards the window, and opened the curtains. The gentle morning sun shone down through the window, irritating her sharp, green eyes. Despite the discomfort, the view from her window never failed to amaze her. Living in the outskirts of a small hilly town in Japan did have its advantages such as the gorgeous view and surprisingly friendly and welcoming inhabitants.

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I'm looking for an erotica that I read probably around 2010 or 2011.

It was a series of short stories, about a club that tortures young women in different ways, with the common denominator being that at the end of each episode, the club members gather in a circle arounfd their victim and kick her to death while wearing steel-toed boots. And in one episode, the intended victim - instead of being scared and trying to get away - she gets wet and eggs them on and masturbates, and so instead of killing her, she becomes a member of the club.

Does that ring any bells for anyone? I seem to remember that it was hosted on ASSTR, but the search function on the new repository is broken :-/

Black Justice (loli, snuff, guro, femdom, maledom, politics, racism)

1. I am a novice 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 heavy on political themes and narratives, it in no way represents my politics. This is the last place where you should be offended about politics.

5. Most of this story is planned out well ahead, but I am eager and open to constructive engagement about where it could or should go next. I might take your idea and incorporate it somewhere. Also, if this story does not seem to resonate, I will not continue publishing it, so please let me know if you would like more.

6. As this will likely be a long, multi-part story, only the most general of tags have been selected. Be warned that everything from scat, cannibalism, intense psychological harm, and mass murder could eventually feature.

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These are stories I've posted on my inkbunny account, but think are sufficiently gorey enough to also be worth posting here. The first story introduces the setting of Club Meat Grinder, the second and third stories going into how the two characters from the tour are snuffed. All in all it's about 30,000 words of nearly nonstop furry cub snuff, every 'victim' eagerly consenting to their fate. Enjoy.

Taking the Tour

(loli/shota/cub, snuff, consensual, futa, beheading, bathroom, asphyxiation, dolcett, electrocution, castration, abortion, urethral play)

In an alley between two of the tallest skyscrapers rising from the heart of downtown, two pedestrians turn off a main road, silhouetted against the light of a streetlamp as they gaze down into the dim, dank environment. They are smaller than most out tonight, a pair of young children out past their bedtime, looking excited and anxious to have found what they've braved the darkness to reach.

As they take their first short steps down the alley, the crunch of bottle glass beneath one of their shoes draws the attention of a bear standing midway down the alley. His shaggy head turns towards them, arms folded and expression impassive as he watches them approach, looking them over with a professional interest.

From the shapes of their shadows stretching down the alley, it was clear both were girls, height indicating neither could be much older than ten. Walking with synchronized steps, the shorter of the two leaned against the other, both of them coming into clearer view as they passed through a pool of lamplight.

The first child was shorthaired canine of a particularly unintimidating breed, fur colored in splotches of clean white and warm brown. Demure, she pressed close and held onto the arm of her friend, eyes looking down. Something about her very bearing suggested submissiveness, like she were simply showpiece putting herself on display, waiting for someone to tell her what to do. Her clothes were exaggeratedly feminine, making up for her prepubescent body with a tantalizing pink dress. The thin fabric clung tightly to her, conforming so perfectly to her budding breasts and soft stomach that it seemed like it had been painted on. A single stud gleamed dimly in one velvety ear, high heels clicking softly against the pavement as she walked. With her slight figure, just a shade too filled out to be called thin, she seemed almost a short, flat-chested woman. Only her childish face and proportions made the truth clear beyond a doubt. On her lips she wore a small, anxious smile, fingers tightening around her friend's arm as the two continued down the alley.


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I feel I must cling to hope that the world can be restored and it's towards that aim that I write this. That future generations beyond the end of this era of depravity may understand what happened here. I can offer no true explanation for the sudden simultaneous global shift in attitudes, merely report that it happened on the 12th August 2026 at 10:42 am GMT. Now known as "the event" the specific results vary wildly from individual to individual, but in all cases their reason and morality is confounded by lust. The majority maintain a wafer thin veneer that their behavior is anything other than sexually motivated but many discount even that. I can only cling to the hope that future generations will develop the immunity that I have to the vile perversion that has robbed the world of its sense of decency, though of the twenty seven children I've sired over the past two years none have shown signs of inheriting this trait from me.

Fortunately it is easy to determine how the event will influence someone even from birth. All those affected seem to have an almost psychic sense of their own and each other's place. After just a glance at a photograph or a one word voice recording they can perceive how the event has affected another and will insist quite vehemently that it's simply obvious. I have found they are never in disagreement on these subjects. I myself am baffled of course. I had the nuns help me run a test where they selected two girls from the local school. They were tied and gagged so I couldn't guess from their behavior and while they would insist to me that one of the girls was pure and innocent and probably didn't even know what sex was and the other was a depraved whore who deserved to be tortured and raped, I couldn't detect any meaningful difference. Both of the girls seemed like equally worthless fuck toys. It wasn't until after they were released that the clear difference in behavior became obvious, the second girl was far more direct, immediately begging me to violently fuck her tight ass. On the other hand the first girl simply blushed and look embarrassed before meekly telling me that she didn't want to do anything dirty, bursting into tears and begging me not to hurt her. Of course I rushed to reassure her but she was almost inconsolable, even after I'd pinned her down and forced my cock inside her she was still hysterically insisting that I was going to rape her and choking her only soothed her temporarily. It wasn't until I started to punch her in the face that she began to finally calm down. I think the way the back of her head bounced off the stone floor with each blow really helped. As soon as I broke her nose she settled right down and started screaming for me to breed her fertile nine year old cunt. I intended to do more tests to confirm the results but I feel confident I don't have that same innate sense that the nuns seem to.

You may think that with the unquestioning obedience of the nuns I'd have an easier time getting things done, however this is far from the truth. They are no less affected than anyone else by the event. After much pleading on their part, I allowed them to keep the second girl as a toy. I gave them clear instructions to take good care of her. Instead, less than three days later, I find her corpse lying on the altar. A cursory examination showed that she'd been badly beaten and the blue pallor to her face suggested she'd died due to the large amount of feces blocking her airways. When I questioned the nuns on the matter they giggled and told me that she must have tried to shit talk god. They seem unable to grasp the severity of the situation, still laughing and grinning as I tried to explain it, but with rolled eyes and cries of fine I got them to promise they wouldn't leave trash on the altar in future.

But I'm veering off talking about administrative problems in my quiet little monastery. I am meant to be discussing the awful state of the world. One of the most prominent effects of the event has been the almost complete disappearance of men. In part because the male population is a tenth of what it was two years ago, compounded by the fact that the remaining affected men invariably take extreme steps towards feminization such that real men are limited only to those very few like me, no more than one hundred thousand worldwide, who are unaffected. While some of us have resisted the temptation to use the situation for personal advantage, many have not. Instead choosing to exploit and mistreat the poor souls that they should be trying to aid.

Along with feminization comes an overwhelming desire for the approval and acceptance of real women. Women respond by exploiting this ruthlessly. This starts with overflowing promises of love and reassurance quickly followed by backhanded compliments, snide remarks and veiled insults. Depending on the situation this can escalate into open ridicule, sexual or physical abuse. Any attempt by the men to resist or complain will only be used against them as proof that they're a bad sport who doesn't know how to take a joke. Invariably the men accept this logic, apologizing for their behavior and eagerly believing the next round of promises. The severity of the "pranks" will always increase, though this seems to depend heavily on how well the man passes as a woman. Upon finding a new group of friends, those who succeed in feminizing themselves can expect long deceptions in which they're slowly coerced into thinking it's a sign of affection for their friends to playfully gouge their eye out when they go out for drinks. Burly men who don't pass shouldn't expect to survive a girl's night out.

This has been the main source of the plummeting male population, though it's beginning to even out now. Shortly after the event one might see five or six guys in the trash for every one girl. The nuns would delight in inviting them here and promising that they could join the convent and that god didn't mind they were really men so they didn't either. Then like a light switch they'd all suddenly turn on him in unison, usually delivering a savage beating with whatever was at hand until one of them found something heavy enough to kill. Within just two weeks of the event they'd decimated the local village and I realized drastic action needed to be taken immediately. Fortunately Miss Kelly, the local school mistress, was happy to help as always and provided us with the assistance of all the boys in her care.

And of course, the nuns made things as difficult as possible. I tell them "Beat them if they stop digging or fall asleep" and barely 24 hours later I hear someone wailing outside and when I go over I find that one of the older boys is lying on the floor next to his eye. His skull has a large dint and a good chunk of his brain seems to have remained on the length of pipe lying next to him. It didn't take much questioning to learn that the nuns had decided to tell him he'd "passed the test" and they'd let him be a real nun and he could go to sleep now and as soon as he nodded off in Sister Amber's arms as she sung a lullaby, they beat him and shouted at him that he was a lazy faggot. Sister Francesca brought the length of pipe to bear.

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