Hi. We're the Abduction and Breeding Agency - AaBA for short. We operate in an undisclosed, for security reasons, location, our building concealed behind a dense forest, although we are within travelling distance of a city. As you could guess from the name, we abduct people and breed them. Let me describe our process in a little more detail.

First, we select our victims - although we like to call them guests. We very carefully decide who to abduct, they have to meet several criteria before we can take the next step with them. That's why we employ trackers as part of our staff to closely follow each of our potential guests for at least a month before we are sure we want them.

## Preparations

To be abducted, the person must be a teenager, anywhere between 13 and 17. We like to spread the ages of our guests roughly evenly. They have to be both physically and mentally fully healthy, as we do not want to harm those already suffering. They must also not be a prude, although not necessarily a slut. We want them to enjoy their time with us! And for that reason too, they should be bisexual. They shouldn't be especially important or noteworthy, because we don't want to cause a big ruckus when we abduct them. And although we won't reveal the specifics of our location, let me just say that abductions aren't too rare here, so a few teens going missing will not make the news.

We select our guests in around 20-30 pairs of a girl and a boy. Once we've found a teen that meets the above criteria, they are unknowingly entered into step 2. Their house must have minimal home security for this, as we send the trackers to enter their house while they sleep. The tracker administers drugs to the teen to make sure they stay asleep, and then take a cheek swab so we can analyse their genes. This will be important later. Also of later significance, if the potential guest is male, the tracker makes sure they have a long foreskin - and average dick length, of course. If they pass these assessments as well, they can continue. Otherwise, we ditch them and look for new potential guests.

During the next couple of months, the now selected guest is unknowingly taken from their bed while they are sleeping every few days, and returned after having undergone a full body laser hair removal session. Here at AaBA, we find body hair gross. The soon-to-be guest may wonder what is happening to them, but we know their personality from tracking them for a month, and we know they won't blab, at least not before we abduct them. And then it will be too late.

Step 3: the fateful day arrives. We co-ordinate all our guests' treatment, so that they are all hair free (below the eyebrows) in the same week. We do not abduct them all on the same day, as that would certainly raise suspicion even in such a place where people do get abducted, but in the same week is alright, even though there is some suspicion, it quickly goes away. That night, we send our trackers to abduct them from their beds as they have done before, but this time we do not return them. We transport them to our facility, drugging them as usual to make sure they stay asleep. When they arrive it is still night.

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After gurochan got nuked and reset the 10426th time, way too many good stories fell through the cracks, especially when they're just on the tip of your dick and don't know where to find them

If YOU find any good old!gurochan stories or happened to have some saved, please post them here for future degenerates to fap to. I'll start with a favorite of mine by Andrew Daxfield (typically don't like shootings, but the casual incest really gets me off)

Sister Season

incest(brother-sister), mg, snuff, shooting, hunting, cons, necrophilia, cannibalism, bladder release.

1.
“Merry Christmas!” Jake’s mom and dad yelled as he walked into the living room.

“Oh! Merry Christmas,” he replied cheerfully.


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Master opened his eyes, alone in his bed except for one small corpse, which he pushed to the floor. It was at least an hour earlier than he usually woke up, and he rolled his eyes at the sounds of more little feet and laughing from upstairs, the reason for his being awake right now.
There were too many kids in the house, too many cute little Beta pets. Master liked to have four or five around the house at any given time to make his food, do the laundry, dust the furniture and always have at least one happy fucktoy to play with, but he had gotten lax about killing them before bringing in whichever new one caught his eye for a fun hair color or big eyes or nice tits. It hadn’t been his plan, he had thought there was no harm in one more than usual….two more….and the next thing you know, there were fifteen hyperactive Beta slaves running around, just way too many. It had been sixteen the night before.
Master had been pretty relaxed about it up until now, but this was the third day in a row that they were noisy and woke him up early, that wasn’t acceptable. He rolled out of bed and groggily made his way to the living room. Emily hustled over as soon as he was in sight and hugged him with a smile, Amber brought him a fresh mug of coffee and Tony brought him his slippers.
Master pet each of them in turn and made his way to his recliner. The rest of the little Betas gathered around at a single wave of his hand. “Hey everyone, listen up, we’re doing something different today. I know I usually keep you on healthy diets, not much sugar or junk food, but I decided I need the big freezer trunk. So for the next two days, they are no food restrictions. The ice cream, the fried food in there, I want the group of you to eat it all, clear the big freezer right out. Don’t fight over the sweets, there is enough for everyone to be happy.”
Several of the cute pets get excited, hopping up and down, trying not to giggle, Master didn’t like being interrupted and he didn’t take it well, but this was exciting, they were given permission to do something that was normally forbidden.
Master gave them all a minute, then raised an eyebrow in amusement. “What are we waiting for? Fire up the air fryer, get the ice cream scoop, get to it!” They didn’t need to be told twice, most of them giggling excitedly as they raced for the freezer. Anna, a small, dark skinned girl tugged Thalia’s hand. “Come on! I want to get some of the cherry chocolate! What are you frowning about?”
Thalia was taller, reaso

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(Size difference, overpenetration, body distortion, stretching, nobody dies)

"I'm sorry I lied on, on my dating profile, but-"

"Oh, no, no. It's a shock, to be sure, but..." He sighed. "We live in a weird, weird world, you know?" David swirled his drink in his glass. "Besides. We spent a month doing texts and, and phone calls, and..." He felt his face going a bit red, then looked down and over at her.

Caroline blushed red herself, almost as red as her hair. She bit her lip, and giggled nervously. "... The photos...? A... And videos...?"

David let out a ragged breath, and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah. I like you, Caroline. And... We both know what we want out of this."

Caroline nodded, looking up at him earnestly. She stood up from her little chair and table, on top of the table. "We can't just... Be friends."

David looked down at Caroline. She looked exactly like her photos. Exactly. Right down to the scale.

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As Sandra streaked through the night sky, her cape fluttering behind her, she couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation course through her veins. For as long as she could remember, she had been fighting for justice, using her incredible powers to make the world a better place. Her keen senses picked up the faint whiff of evil emanating from the abandoned warehouse below, and with a grin of determination, she prepared to confront whatever villain was lurking within.

As she landed lightly on the rooftop, her feet barely making a sound, Sandra peered through a broken window and spotted her quarry. It was Bob, the notorious supervillain who had been giving her trouble for months. He was in the middle of a heated argument with one of his henchmen, his massive fists clenched and veins bulging from his forehead. Sandra's heart raced, but she remained calm. She knew she had to act quickly and decisively if she wanted to bring him to justice.


With a surge of adrenaline, she leapt into the warehouse, landing silently behind Bob. In a flash, she raised her hand, intending to deliver a stunning blow to the back of his head. But before she could make contact, Bob whirled around, his reaction time impossibly fast. He laughed derisively as he saw the shock on her face. "Oh, you thought you could take me by surprise, did you?" he sneered. "You're not as clever as you think you are, heroine."

Bob grabs her hand and breaks it at the wrist. "You're not so strong either, huh?" he taunts. Then, before she can react, he slams her to the ground with a powerful blow. The impact knocks the breath from her lungs, and she writhes in pain. "You're not much of a fighter, are you?" he asks, his voice dripping with contempt. As she struggles to get up, he kicks her in the side, sending her flying across the room.

Sandra body hits the wall, the impact jarring her teeth. She tastes blood as it trickles down her lips, and her vision begins to swim. She tries to focus, to summon her strength, but it's no use. Bob stands over her, his expression one of cold amusement. "You're pathetic," he says, shaking his head. "A heroine like you doesn't deserve to wear that costume."

Bob pull his fist back, summoning all his strength he hits her in her square in the jaw, sending her flying across the room. Her head hits the concrete floor hard, and she sees stars. He walks over to her, kneeling down beside her. "You're going to need to learn your place, heroine," he says, his breath hot in her ear. "And your name is not Sandra anymore. It's Bitch. Understand?" He punches her again, this time in the gut. She coughs up blood and gasps for air.


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News5You

(MF, FF, cons, decap, dog/F, casual)

A bird’s eye camera shot lazily captured the opening scene for yet another evening broadcast. It was a fairly standard set, three massive green screens(currently being broadcast as televisions with the News5You logo prominently displayed) behind a single, small glass table. Behind the table stood a beautiful woman with brown hair and cold blue eyes. She only wore two things, a complicated looking collar around her neck with a steadily blinking red light and a self satisfied, smug smile. Her breasts were perky and capped with bright pink nipples, but starting to sag with age. Despite her years, her body was toned from hours spent in the gym.

Between her legs was an already licking blonde girl. Not much could be seen of her assets, but she was equally naked, her bottom swaying back and forth as she playfully teased the ice queen above her. She too had a blinking collar around her neck, but careful viewers would notice that it blinked a little faster than those of her counter part. Despite the aerial view, her body promised to be a playground of curves and tight places.

The shot faded to another camera angle and the brunette started talking in a light, sensual voice.

“Hello and welcome to News5You this evening, the news program with more news five you. I’m Cindy Taylor, your happy host.

“Our first story this evening comes from Belview where a ten car pile up caused a traffic delay for over five hours and continues to frustrate motorists even now. It’s believed the accident was started by a woman masturbating while driving, causing her to crash head first into the other lane while in the throes of passion. News5's Amber James is at the scene now. Amber?”

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(Snuff, watersports, drowning, meatgrinder, noncon, casual)

"I really, REALLY shouldn't have gotten the extra-large," muttered Pinkie.

Braids nodded, letting out a little whimper herself.

I was feeling it, too. Damn, it's fast food for a reason.

Luckily there was a public restroom on the corner. I listened, and all I could hear was a quiet snuffling. All clear. I hustled in the two girls I hadn't learned the name of, and locked the door.

"Oh! Hi, Mrs. Robertson." She was my next door neighbour this morning, but now she wasn't a person. She was kneeling on the grate, she was stripped naked, her arms were stretched out across the wall and locked in the shackles, and the transparent cylinder was locked around her head. Her fluffy bob haircut was soaked and slicked down to her head, and she looked like she had been crying. There was piss in the jar to her chin.

And I had broken the first rule. Don't talk to the urinal.

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(Casual Snuff, gore, decapitation, dismemberment, consensual, willing, eager)

I don't see the problem with taking the tube girls. They're always fresh, and you don't need to clean up afterward.

I was running a little late, so today was going to be a little rushed. I didn't bother checking her number when Cindy's tube slid up and out of the sidewalk, I just waited for the fluids to drain, the cap to open and the tube to slide back into the floor.

She didn't get a chance to even tug her backpack straps like she usually does before I grabbed her elbow and pulled her into the tramcar. She blinked, and grinned wide. "Howdy, Mithter!" she lisped brightly, bouncing on my knee. "I think I remember you!"

This Cindy is one of my favourites, even if she's an acquired taste. Big curly orange hair, big round glasses, braces behind those painted red lips, still a bit of fuzzy confusion over her body mods and outfit. The japanese schoolgirl outfit is cute, but with the top cropped nearly to her collarbone to let those basketball-size tits wobble free is just perfect, and the skirt trimmed down to just two inches of ruffle over her hips and the top of her bubble ass is a delicious bit of decoration.

"Remember how I like it, then?" I ask, kneading her fresh, spongy breast, sharply flicking her nipples to make the little brown nubs swell and stretch into thumb-size udders.

She moans and goes crosseyed at that, as usual, and nods as she eagerly unzips my pants, swiveling in the tight confines of the little cab to swing her perky ass over my lap. One quick thrust, a squelch, and a loud moan from both of us, and she has all ten inches of me up her pre-lubed virgin ass.

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This short story was originally written for >>>/rp/6974, but I couldn't finish it in time. I decided to finish mine anyway and put it in there. Enjoy.
__

I wake up from something jumping on my bed. I open my eyes. First thing I see is her cheerfuly smiling face looming over me, her hands leaning on my chest, ears pointing straight up, graceful long tail slowly waving from side to side.

"Good morning, master!" Yumiko yelled before reaching forward.

"It's weekend, Yumiko. You don't have to wake me up." I say, hiding my eyes from the sunlight.

"Oh, but I thought you like when I wake you up!"

I attempt to turn away, but Yumoko won't give up so soon. She slipped her hand into my underware. Fingers ringed around my shaft, massaging it and getting it ready in a moment.


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The orcess was six and a half feet of green muscle and barely checked aggression. She snarled as one of the correctional officers locked her wrists behind her back and led her out of the cell. I looked up at her, admiring her sculpted body and statuesque form. It was my first day as a hangman at Bellau, and this orc woman was my first "client".

Prisoner 778390, government name Liza Redrock, had participated in a bank robbery that ended in a 2 hour long shootout through the heart of the downtown district. With 5 police officers and 3 innocent bystanders left dead, and most of her crew also killed, it was no surprise that the judge had decided to sentence her to the long drop. I had to admit, despite the genetic disposition towards brutal physiology that her species was known for, Liza was attractive. Her figure was curvacious, with long legs, powerfully muscular thighs, full breasts that pushed her orange jumpsuit towards its limits, and a sharp, chiseled face framed with black dreads that beheld the world in stoic contempt. She was also, according to the prisoner file, a futanari. I glanced down at her crotch, and noted the telltale bulge.

Death Row was situated in the north west corner of the prison, the closest block to the execution grounds. In the center of a secluded open yard stood the gallows. A wooden platform elevated 14 feet off the ground, a simple A frame cross bar with a coiled hemp noose looped over top. I went up the stairs first, to check the rope and the trap door were in working order. Liza steadily climbed up after me, flanked by the officers.

"Please, stand on top of the X" I instructed her, the noose in hand.

She turned to face me and walked forward until both her slipper shod feet were on the trapdoor. I secured her ankles and legs together with a belt then wrapped a band around her stomach and arms.

It was a blazing summer day, and everyone present had begun to perspire under the oppressive humidity. I stood close to Liza and slipped the noose over her head, guiding the knot under her left ear. She stared forward resolutely, but I could see her eyes nervously flicking towards me, beads of sweat rolling down her forehead and cheeks. I reached into my vest pocket and retrieved the blindfold, wrapping it over her eyes and clipping the bands together under her voluminous locks. I stepped back and checked my watch. It was all going on time, with her execution set for 11:45AM, two minutes in the future.

The chaplain came and whispered a few words in Liza's ear. She said something back, and the chaplain clasped his hands together and muttered a few words of prayer. It was almost time. The chaplain and the correctional officers retreated, and I held the lever that would release the pins and let the trapdoor swing free. Seconds ticked down like molasses.

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It's been a while, but I decided to come back and post a few things here. Hope you enjoy what comes up
————————————-
Tulip Pruned

Tulip hummed as she entered the Elite Four office. The Gym Leader had been called in for a secondary evaluation after being found lacking in her first test. The Gym Leader didn’t expect much as she entered the room, where a single trainer stood at the ready in the opposing starting position.

“Ah, Tulip, you made it today.” The trainer said as he palmed a ball in his hand.

“Whatever do you mean?” The psychic-type trainer asked.

“This is the fourth summons for your secondary test.” The trainer said as he tsked.

“Apologies, I’m a very busy woman.”

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“Sophie, you need to get out of there.” Quinn's voice was strained with worry.

“Go where? I don't have anyone else.” Sophie was peeking through the living room curtain at the empty driveway outside.

“Bullshit. Come stay with me, I'll make room.”

“In Portland? I can't, Quinn. He froze our account last night. He said someone got our credit card number online and was buying things. He said he'll have it back by tomorrow.” She bit her lip doubtfully.

“Sophie, you know that's a lie. He's trying to keep you there. You have to leave! You're not safe!” Quinn's voice was rising and it was making Sophie more scared than she already was.

“I… I know. I just need…. Shit. He's here!”

“What? Why?”

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Since there are some requests for custom stories
https://boards.guro.cx/lit/res/24373.html#q24376
I will be posting them here
—————————–
first:
What about as an experiment Pan from Dragonball GT losing a fight and being snuffed?
Pan, strangulation, foot fetish, forced footjob, rape, snuff, cum, humiliation, crying.

This is not exactly how you make proper request as it should be more detailed but let's see what happens :)


Pan, strangulation, foot fetish, forced footjob, rape, snuff, cum, humiliation, crying.
### Instruction:

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This is my continuing collection of stories of fucked up romance. The best stories are gruesome murder out of a deeper love than life could bear. The core of my stories is the absolute extremes of love, horror, empathy and worthlessness mixed together in unrealistically contradictory bundle of emotions. Join me in my search for the ultimate extremity of the human and machine imagination in the realm of macabere romance.

If you have story ideas in this field or just want to chat and get to know me, I'd love to hear from you in my protonmail inbox.

For transparency's sake: these stories are a collaboration between me and a machine.

Disclaimer: these stories are an art project in exploration of imagination. None of this is real and should ever become real. I condone no violence, rape, murder, underage or animal intercourse in real life. If you feel you have any of these urges, go check yourself into a mental facility before it's too late.

(For Onix: realism has no place in my stories, so don't bother starting a discussion about that)

Dear friend,

First of all, I must say that I’ve been meaning to write to you for a long time. For years, actually. This letter has been in the making since I was a teenager. I'm about to enter the second quarter of my century, and I thought if I didn't do it now, I’d never do it.

I've been feeling very nostalgic lately. Every day I reflect on my life, especially on my art. You know I like to write. And I think about why I write. What is it that moves people to do anything?

I think it's love and pain. I believe that humans were made to escape pain and protect love. I say “protect” and not “seek” because love is inherent in human beings, contrary to what cynics might say. To be alive is to flow with love, and as proof of this I can show you the history of humanity: eras of pure misery, suffering that transcends generations, the worst of the worst. Would we consciously choose to continue an existence plagued with endless evils, if there wasn't a reason to do so? Don't you think we would have decided a long time ago to put an end to all evil forever, that is, to voluntarily extinguish ourselves, if we thought that was the most rational thing to do? What makes our small and insignificant species not choose to self-destruct is what makes it not so insignificant. It’s love for life that moves the world, my friend. It may be subconscious, it disguises itself, it changes shape, but it's there.

But when it comes to art, it doesn't matter what moves the world; an artist is an individual, and the human mind must be analyzed in terms of its uniqueness. What can move an artist who has never loved, or who has never felt pain? Where can his magic… his inspiration come from? Where is an artist's love born?

Art is sensory. We can see it in paintings, movies and novels; we smell and taste it in culinary works; we can touch it on the fabric of a dress; we hear it in orchestras and indie rock bands. But its inspiration is not sensory. It isn’t intellectual either: it doesn’t come from the body or the mind.

There's a book called The War of Art (by Steven Pressfield) that states that all callings of the soul, that is, vocations, come from a single source, a single metaphysical force, separated, but united to us, that indicates the path we must follow to reach happiness. There is a force that wants us to accomplish our mission. They are the angels, the muses, the “inspiration”, whatever you want to call it. When we do what we came to do in the world, we are accompanied by this force.

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