hope you guys enjoy this guro story i will be doing an animation to it as soon as i can this is a story that is mainly about lara croft but the is a small feature of ellie from last of us either way enjoy!!

It's raining outside. Days such as this are nostalgic. I reminisce my sweet childhood memories. My beloved mother used to feed me dinner, make my bed and put me to sleep singing lullaby.

Now I have grown up. Have my own room with all kinds of girly stuff. From thigh high socks to lush vibrator. From ballet shoes to bad dragon toys. Typical suburban girl I am. Me, my socks, the fireplace, the window, my room are waiting for something. Something exquisite to happen. Something that is fate.

I have a little wish to lucifer-chan. In any night (perhaps tonight, hopefully!) my mother will enter the room while I'm in deep sleep. Keeping my door unlocked lately. She'll take a good look at her daughter, who she has given birth to, nourished to adolescence and perhaps something more will be in her mind? She will measure how curvy I am. A sweet sleeping teen in white t-shirt. No bra during night times. Yet my perky boobs make monroe impression. White crew socks over opaque black tights. A shower of moonlight over me from the window will make mom jealous. Don't you agree? She herself still got it. Beautifully gained weight. Like a doll of caramel. But she is about to hit her fifties. Time takes toll. Usually she wears cocktail party dress with motherly nylon stockings. And wooden semi-heels. A woman chuckling giggling. But this is different night. She will be not in her sleeping gown. She'll be in a long sleeved red tee, a grey tight fit yoga pant and beige skin tone slouch socks. She'll also be wearing a pair of white gloves. I wonder why. Can't tell if it's leather or rubber though.

Silent full moon outside. No time to waste. My sexy hippo milf mom will craftfully hop on my chest! Her heavy bottom will flatten my boobs. The little last air in my lungs will be dispersed. Will definitely be woken by then. May try to make sound out of surprise. But no. She will swiftly grab the pillow... and smother me... to put her little girl to sleep... for good.

She will hold the rectangular cotton Krampus against my face. I will try to scream, only faint moanings will tend to silence. I will try to scratch, but she saw it coming. I will try to scatter my legs against bed, it'll only yield some ecstasy. Nothing will prevent fate. A satisfactory smile on her face. I'll silently be kissing my Krampus till I pass out. Mom won't get fooled by no resistance though. She will sit tight and hold the pillow steady until there is no chance of a flower to bloom.

(Now again, right at the beginning of the process, what if nothing goes accordingly? While she hops on my chest, what if the pillow suddenly scatters out of reach? No worries. She will just grab one of my thigh high socks! These are all around my room. Typical suburban girl I am. And before you even know, my ever faithful rug will be around my neck. To warm my December. If even that fails, mom always can strangle me to silence. So that's why she's wearing gloves huh. Still can't tell if it's leather or rubber. Cos I can't even feel myself anymore.)

What happens next? She violates my body duh. Probably out of sexuality. Or jealousy. Or the idea of I can't really resist anymore or something. So why not? This is not an erotica. So no malicious exaggeration. Every phallus shaped things in our house that night were lucky. Really lucky. Moving on.

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End of the Dynasty

I shouldn't have been there. If the samurai guards had seen me, they would have killed me on the spot, even though I was just a little girl. The common people were not allowed on the sacred grounds of our God, the Emperor. But gods meant very little to me, and anything was better than another day cutting up fish for the market. So when I heard the sound of proclamations being made in the seppuku garden, I hid from my brothers and snuck through the hole in the fence where the refuse was discarded. My hiding spot gave me a view of the whole thing.

The Emperor was in his usual place, seated in a golden chair that looked very uncomfortable. He was surrounded by his elite samurai, who as usual looked fully alert. I had seen them in the market hours earlier so drunk they couldn't even walk, but they were very good at looking straight ahead. I could have cursed the Emperor's holy name at the top of my voice, and they wouldn't have noticed. Standing along the side of the pave stones were the Emperor's loyal followers. They were supposed to care for his vast empire, but they did little more than argue about who would stand closer to their divine ruler.

An old man was reading a list of dishonorable crimes from a paper bearing the Emperor's sign, but I couldn't understand him. The rulers spoke a different dialect from the street vendors, and never spoke to us anyway. When he finished speaking, the gilded door would open and the condemned man would emerge with his second. That's how it was always done.

This time, though, when the doors opened, it was not a man who came out. It was a woman! She wore a silk kimono with so many folds of material that her figure was completely obscured. But her face was painted a perfect white, and her hair was the blackest black, very neatly pinned at the top. She carried the small kozuka blade in both hands, just like the condemned man would. Was she really the one to pay for her lost honor with her life?

Behind her was her second. He was a young, handsome man, and I recognized him immediately. He could drink more sake than any other samurai. More than once we saw him leave the market as the other samurai lay in the mud, and several times he performed the second's task for those same men. The disgraced soldier would kneel before the Emperor, and ceremonially plunge the short blade into his stomach. They never really plunged it in, though. The strong ones might draw blood, but none of them could really open their belly and cut out their own intestines. To preserve their honor, the second would use his long katana blade to cut off the condemned man's head.

He was also dressed in pure white silk, as usual. He carried the long sword in his right hand, and the jug of water in his left. He would pour the water over the sword to symbolize the purity of the man's death, ensuring that he would journey to paradise to serve the god-Emperor for eternity.

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>>14596
Thanks man! I am glad you liked this one!

>>14597
Thanks man! I hope I can write again soon!

This is another great story! You make it worth checking back here every few days.

Damn, you've gone and done it again! I wanted to reply to your Farm prequel thread as well but in all honesty while I've been a bit busier than usual as of late, mostly I was just shook. Your stories are so often from the victim's POV, and sometimes I get so wrapped up in their perspectives that their fear infects me. You have a wonderful talent for suspense, even though I generally know what's coming for the most part the anticipation is still so deliciously dreadful.

Thanks again for sharing with us, best of luck with your business! Hopefully it does well enough that you'll be able to return here ;)

Inspired by the story Graduation, which can be found here https://archive.guro.wtf/lit/res/20622.html

I'm not sure about the source of the pic attached, but it looks like it inspired the Graduation story in the first place (IIRC the story appeared some time after the picture).

Other authors are welcome to add their own entries. Don't have to be introduction speeches, day to day life in the school and whatever you feel inspired for by the setting are all welcome too.

==Rubicon High School==

Welcome to Rubicon High School! A very special among special schools that aims not at students with disabilities, but at those who wish to have one. In our school you will learn to live with a disability of your choice: blindness, deafness, muteness, or even amputation of limbs, we have dedicated classes for all of them. We also encourage our students to be creative, so if you have something more peculiar on your mind, do tell and we’ll see what we can arrange about it. And of course you’re welcome to choose more than one disability if you’re feeling up for the challenge!

The name of our school comes from the final test you will face during the graduation: you will get to irreversibly cross the Rubicon on the way to your new disabled life by actually inflicting the disability on yourself with your own hands. Although nowadays many determined students choose to do it earlier during the education, usually after the first year, since that point is also where the theoretical lessons give place to more practical ones, which become more hands-on this way. Just make sure to do it the presence of a teacher who would confirm you did it with your own hands and out of your own free will.

Anyway, enough about us, since you came here, you probably know all of that already. So why don’t you tell us about yourself, why did you choose to attend this school and what disability are you going to choose?

written by JestInPieces and PogueMahone
art by 行者

The limbless girl photo model looks at you in the mirror.

“I’m terribly sorry I’m so overdressed for this photo shoot, but I’m a little bit indisposed at the moment. Could you do me a huge favor and help me out of these straps?”

“Why certainly,” you say, sliding the knife upwards from the small of her back all the way up to the back of her neck.

“Thanks,” the girl says cheerily as she wriggles out of the brown straps. Inspecting her reflection in the mirror, she blushes again.

“Oh dear, my stumps are blocking the light, aren’t they? Since you’re already holding that knife, I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a little trim?”


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Post prompts and your gore/scat filled adventures, doesn't have to always be serious or horny, we can all have fun.

This is a short story very loosely inspired by a real sighting from my childhood.


The young beggar girl hopped along the pavement on her single bare foot. It was awkward and tiring, but she didn't really have a choice. She felt every single bystander's eyes on her, even with her head held down in shame. The young dark skinned girl's body was bare, she was wearing only a bronze anklet. Her right arm was amputated a bit below her shoulder, ending in a wrinkled short stump. Her left arm ended a few inches below her elbow with a similarly scarred round stump, she had her elbow slightly bent forward as she hopped. The leg she had lost, the left one, was amputated mid-thigh, the stitch marks from the amputation run across both the stump's tip and the inner side of her residual leg. Her left eye was missing leaving her with an empty eye socket, she couldn't close it since the eyelids were also removed. Who could blame anyone for staring at her? She could hear most of them whisper and some not even bothering to hide what a huge spectacle she was.

''Whoah, look at that gypsy girl!''

''Three stumps? What happened to her?''

''She's still good for a footjob though.''

''Is she also missing an eye? Damn.''

She expected those kinds of reactions, but actually hearing them out made her want to die out of humiliation on the spot. But she had to keep hopping around town to get at her usual begging spot.

Hello everyone

I started this new thread, especially dedicated to "Polaris" and his awesome site "The Dark Realm Of Polaris".

Unfortunately, Polaris decided to stop writing a few years ago, and with that decision, the site went off the net too.

Nevertheless, I'm quite sure that a lot of people were highly entertained and inspired (in their fantasy only, I hope) by Polaris's stories and the stories of other writers who had published on his site.

[By the way: parts of The Dark Realm of Polaris are still out there, just read carfully the old thread in the archive: https://archive.guro.wtf/lit/res/5564.html ]

As far as I'm concerned: I really loved Polaris' stories, which I discovered maybe fifteen years ago, and it really nourished the part my being which had deviant fantasies since I was little. Thankfully, those stories also pushed some limits within my brain.

On his page, he had stated: "I am Polaris, a writer of erotic fiction that focuses primarily on sadistic and sexually violent females."

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Might as well have a thread for writing questions and advise of all kinds.

Kenneth gritted his teeth. Some country musicians started singing "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" for the hundredth time, next-door. Oh how wonderful it would've been to kick down their door and smash Alexander Wallace's stupid stereo to a million pieces, while his kids watched in utter horror. Kenneth just groaned and downed his third Budweiser, before crushing the can beneath his boot, and tossing it into the growing pile behind the couch.
He picked up the Colt 45 sitting between his legs and nibbled on the barrel. Christmas really was the worst; it was that day, five years ago, that he learned that the Devil always comes to collect.


Christmas in the Davis Family began as it always did. Kenneth sat on his couch. Alicia, his wife, slumped against his shoulder, yawned as he caressed her silvery hair. His eldest daughter, Sabrina, squealed as she tore open her gifts. She hugged him, her new camera and iPhone clutched in her right fist.
Sabrina, wearing red pajamas and a Santa hat, her blonde pigtails barely reaching her shoulders, was just two weeks shy of turning eighteen. She hummed Jingle Bells as she fidgeted with her new toys, and stuffed chocolates into her mouth. Kenneth kissed his wife, and looked back to see his daughter bending over with the camera pointed down the front of her shirt.
"I saw that," he growled.
"Saw what?" Sabrina smirked as she tried to cover her cleavage with pajamas cut entirely too low.
"You know." Kenneth chuckled as his daughter plopped down on the recliner and started playing with her phone.
In a few minutes, a high-resolution shot of her melons would be on Instagram, getting hundreds of likes every second. If they weren't attached to his daughter, and he was single, one of those likes would belong to Kenneth. He had Alicia, and her tits were a bit larger than Sabrina's. He cupped his wife's left breast, and she groaned while holding it tight against her tit.
Someone ran down the hall upstairs, hammering the floor with each step. "It's Christmas!" What sounded like a herd of elephants thundered down the stairs. Fay ran into the living room; the eight-year-old twirled in her pink nightdress before leaping into Kenneth's lap. "It's Christmas," she whispered into his ear as he brushed the curtain of brown hair from her eyes.
"Yes, it is." Alicia yawned as she rose.
Kenneth patted her back as she buried her head against his bulging stomach.

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Note: The original version of this story had some errors, so I reuploaded it.

At first, it was imperceptible, looking like nothing but a few unusual cases of septicemia. It crept across the globe, and by the time doctors even realised it existed, it had infected 98% of the population.

The remaining 2% lucky enough to be immune were evacuated to Taiwan. The new cradle of humanity, they called it. Even as the dying begged for aid, the remaining authorities said they were devoting all resources to the immunitas, for the sake of mankind's survival.

Fuck mankind, Izz had thought.

It works like this: you can't know you're infected without being tested--and there's nobody left to do that now. You can be spreading it for years without noticing. Then one day your number comes up; your blood turns to poison and your organs liquefy. Then you die in a pool of your own filth. The oldest anyone had made it, as far as Izz knew, was 35.

Medical research stalled. Virology took forever to learn; everyone who tried died before making themselves useful. People were still trying. Izz thought they were stupid.

From her living room window, Izz could see an altercation unfolding. Some kid from down the street lay on the asphalt at the mercy of his older brother. She watched with slight interest as the bigger sibling choked his brother to death.

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Afrodita flicked the strands of long, red hair from in front of her eyes as she strutted forward. The clicking of stiletto heels against the hard ground of the corridor hid the slight crack and squeak of the soft pink strips of leather which formed the majority of her uniform. Those sounds only became clear as her footfalls became muffled from striding onto the plush carpet which covered the floor of her master's study.

The green-eyed woman with her softly sunkissed skin felt her heart pounding louder and faster with every step. She almost thought that the other retainers who stood silently in the room could hear her anticipation. Anticipation which showed in how her thighs glistened with anticipation, with how her steps were deliberately slowed so that twitches born of nerves and excitement would not show. Thigh-high boots rubbing together, along with the contrasting black fishnets which peeked out from above them. Straps leading to the corset which pulled her waist in.

Pink leather straps hid the steel bones of the corset which pulled her waist in by almost half a dozen inches, the woman's already curvy form made all the more impressive with that fishnet-panelled enhancements. The soft pink bra-like top portion of it which covered her breasts had hot pink accessorising notes upon it, notes which were matched by the elastic binding the sleeves which stretched only from her biceps down to her wrists, the elements which matched on her thick collar which was almost a posture collar were hidden by those long strands of red hair which tumbled past Afrodita's collarbone to the bottom of her bust. The luxurious shimmer of her hair showing how well cared for Afrodita was.

Afrodita was a slave, but one that was cared for. Her master, Yosef, had a special place for Afrodita. She was his current favourite, and as such her looks were preserved while she was given plenty of tools to aid in her training. Training which the woman had been called to show off. Strutting forward with a seductive sway of her hips, Afrodita's heart froze for a moment as she gazed at the muscular form of her master. The man was easily almost half a metre taller than her, the diminutive woman's frame dominated by the broad shoulders and barrel chest of that muscular man. Proportionally sound, the handsome man was tall, strong, and demanded perfection that matched his own from his slaves.

Afrodita was blessed to be able to serve this man, of that she knew. She also knew why her outfit formed a V-string of sorts, why the fabric which clung so tightly to her pussy parted around her anus. It was so she could do this show for her master easily. Afrodita knew that, although the dark eyes of her master were upon her, she would only receive true acknowledgement if she served properly. If she proved herself to be worthy. After all, her master was well within his rights to be demanding, and this only made Afrodita even more eager to serve. All the more eager to train so that she may receive his praise.

The woman had first thought about coming here with her belly bulging from some toy wedged between those straps of leather, she had thought about showing off how her belly became swollen with the toys she had been trained to take, but had been told to come empty. Empty, but ready to show off another skill of hers. To show off the waste which was born from consuming the gruel which had been specially formulated to increase the volume of her 'production' quite extensively. The target of this gift she would offer her master was a silver platter left upon the ground. A broad serving dish, silver with copper and gold inlaid upon it. A floral trim with scenes depicting ancient glories held within.

A deep blush had spread across Afrodita's face as she gazed upon the tray. Not allowing it to slow her steps, the woman couldn't help but still nearly swoon at the chance she was being given. Her waste was being given such a high honour, she was known as the best anal and best scat slave of her master and she was being allowed to shit upon such an opulent relic. The simple flattery born of having that tray resting upon the ground, waiting for her was enough to make Afrodita quiver in pleasure, nearly orgasming in delight before she even spread her legs and started to squat down.

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