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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Kate was the first to notice that something was different. If she was driving, they would've gone on to graduate from high school a month later, and enter Virginia Tech in August.

Her cousin, Lynn, was the one driving, while Kate was just one of the three bikini-clad passengers crammed in the back of her Honda CR-V. Lexi sat in the passenger seat. Her long jet-black hair floated in the wind as she tilted her head out of the window, letting the summer breeze dry her ebony skin.

Kate didn't mind it, though. She was sandwiched between Amanda, and her Asian girlfriend, Tiffany. Their ample breasts were squeezed against her arms. One hand rested on Tiffany's thigh; she tried to rest the other on Amanda's, only to have Amanda brush it aside after a few seconds. Tiffany occasionally nibbled at Kate's ear. Her pussy ached, and Kate had to remind herself that this was not the place, each time her hand crept towards her crotch.

They cruised down Great Bridge Blvd, on their way home after spending the day at the beach, celebrating Lexi's eighteenth birthday party. They came around the bend, and turned onto their street, the street sign read Pellerito Rd; it was supposed to be Joyner Rd.

"I think you're turning the wrong way," Lexi shouted.

"Don't worry, I know where I'm go–" Lynn screamed as a man appeared in front of them. The car jolted to a stop. Kate lurched forward, as did her companions.

"Who the fuck is that asshole?" Lynn yelled.

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Karl spent the entire period doodling weapons in the margins of his quiz, and watching Jane Nuelle.

Jane shifted in her seat as she worked out an equation. Her frizzy blonde hair rippled as the air conditioner blasted the room with an icy breeze. Karl licked his lips. Her cheerleading uniform, green-gold with a cat paw on her chest, barely concealed her legs, toned by years of sports, as she crossed them. How would they feel, as his hands slid up her calves, and gripped her ass? He would find out before the day was over. Has anyone enjoyed the fruit that must lay between those legs? She always talked about saving herself for marriage, so, maybe he'd be the only one on Earth blessed with such an opportunity.

"Done!" Jane's skirt bobbed, revealing the bottom of her bubbly ass cheeks with each step, as she brought her assignment to Mr. Sisko's.

The teacher peered up from his phone as Jane handed over the quiz. "Done so soon?"

Jane giggled. "Yeah. It was pretty easy."

He smiled. "Knowing you, it probably was."

"So," she slightly lifted the hem of her skirt, while twirling a strand of hair around her index finger, "would it be okay if I left a little early to use the bathroom?"

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So I'm looking for a particular story that I can't remember the name of, about a guy who uses a Mindcontrol device to Kidnap women who come and offer themselves to him as meat.

For the life of me i can't find it nor remember it.

Nicole entered the snuff fair confidently, striding up to the ticket booth naked and purchasing as many as she could buy. She had saved up her money all year for this, as killing was the highlight of her life. Looking around for something interesting… A drowning booth… A human dartboard… Nicole scanned the dartboard for her friend, Trevor, whom she had signed up for the booth against his will. No luck, she’d have to check back later. Over one booth, a thick metal ring with a simple tarp over it, she saw a sign labeled “Scary-go-round”. Chuckling at the cheesy name, she heads over to the booth, passing a group of girls brutalizing one of their male classmates, wondering what it means.

Nicole walks into the booth, pulling the tarp over her head to get inside and sees a row of people chained to the wall and- surprisingly- a boy running the booth. Nicole recognized him as a strange quiet guy, the kind she saw as beneath her notice. She was a bit surprised as the man confidently walked up to her. "Hello miss, want to play a game?”

“Oh, I'd love to” she says, smiling. “So, they've got a guy to run the booth this year? Who'd you need to eat out to avoid being one of the victims?” Nicole asked, chuckling at her own statement. Again to her surprise, the man chuckles back. “I set this game up up so I would assume me, but it's a game of luck and bets” He replied beckoning Nicole over to look. Nicole frowned. She was better at skill games, especially throwing games, being her college’s star softball player. Still, she did have some time to kill…

“Sounds fine to me.” Nicole says, heading over and sitting down in front of the metal bar, being joined by her classmate. “So, mind explaining the Scary-Go-Round bit?” “Well, you bet on who will survive the ride.” The man explained, simply. Beyond the metal bar, Nicole saw a group of four men chained to the wall. “now that over there” he said, gesturing to a strange contraption in the middle of the room “will spin and is gonna shoot randomly, you win you get to keep the survivor or kill him yourself.” He finished. Nicole nodded, figuring the device in the middle was some sort of homemade gun.

“Hmm, you put a lot of thought into this” Nicole says. “I'll bet... That guy, she continues, pointing to the one on the far side of the room. Yes I believe his name is Andrew, the man replies, handing Nicole a remote. “press the button when you’re ready.”

‘Andrew, huh? I hope you die soon!!” Nicole says, smiling and winking at him. She eagerly takes the remote and press the button. As promised, the gun starts spinning and a few seconds after the first bolt fires hitting one of the victims in the hand in the hand. As he winces from the pain, another is screaming terrified “Oh God please don't let me die today.”

At first Nicole disappointed when someone other than her chosen target gets hit, but then realizes he isn't dead yet. She watch as the gun continues to spine and shoots Andrew in the chest. Andrew screams briefly, quickly being cut off as he coughs up blood. Even so, he looks down in shock as blood gushes from his chest over his body “Mmmm fuck that's hot!! Die for me Andrew, Nicole teases, leaning forward over the railing and enjoying the view.

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I admit, I'm probably a little fucked in the head.

Bioreplicator tech was definitely not ready for prime-time. It was certainly never intended to be used for full human duplication. And, I dare say, it was absolutely, positively not intended to be used for cheap autoerotic, sadomasochistic thrills.

And yet, here we are.

Well, okay. Here I am. And also there I am over there. And there's most of me over there, and about-to-be-me over there, and… well, yeah. I suppose it gets confusing.

But, point is, this is OG-me. You can tell by the carbon isotope mixture if you wanna take a blood sample. You could also tell by the lack of duplication errors, but that's less reliable, and I could be hiding something - what with the no arms or legs, and all. But yeah, sorry, all 100% zeroth-gen me.

First thing I did once I realized this would work was make like, fifty first-gen duplicates, sifted through the survivors with the nanoMRI for duplication glitches, picked the least error-riddled scans, and started printing them out. Then I realized that I should really average all those together and start printing *that* out, so i did.

Then we mulched all the nonviables, and all the marginals and I had the talk that I decided I was going to have with myself if I came out of the oven wrong, and the ones that didn't want to play helped me feed themselves back into the mulcher. Then we repeated the whole process another dozen or so times until I had enough of a scanset loaded that I could reliably print out as many of me as I wanted, and they'd all come out healthy.

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(Repost from old Gurochan)

-----
(1/3)

As the woman behind the counter went through the speech, Chelsea let her eyes wander over to the next counter, where men were checking in.

“…be aware that, although we make effort to minimize the risk, accidents can and sometimes do happen…”

She’d heard it all before. She knew the routine. Listen to the little legalese speech, sign the waiver, go in, have a good time. She’d been coming here most Thursdays for years now. She could recite the speech herself.

“By signing this waiver, you agree not to hold the company liable for any injury or loss of life incurred while using the service. If you agree, please say ‘I consent’.”


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I've never written a multiple victim story, because each victim deserves her own individual experience. I've been inspired by real world events, though. I'll let you guess which ones.This was supposed to be a short story, but it didn't work out that way.

d udet


Childbirth Goddess Class (preggo, shotgun, knife, mostly NC)

The six of us were getting impatient. Stephanie, our childbirth instructor, was already 15 minutes late. She told us that she would send an update if she went into labor herself, but there were no on her feed since last night. We sat on our pillows on the hard chairs, our mats at our feet, talking about the things third-trimester moms usually talk about.

Cecelia's stretch marks were driving her crazy, the way they showed up on her pale skin. Her face was covered in freckles, and when she lifted her blouse, the stretch marks shot between the freckles like lightning bolts. She had the kind of red hair that could only come from genetics, not a bottle.

Evangelina's long hair was dark as night. Her blouse was too small, revealing the curve of her brown belly and the dark line from her navel down to her sweatpants. She always seemed worried about saying too much about her family, so I figured she must be undocumented.


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"The economy is a joke, the corporations run everything in their ironclad grip, the monthly UBI can barely buy you a sandwich on a good day, so you can hardly blame the youth for choosing to drop out of society, sometimes permanently."

MissMelancholy (real name: unknown) turned back to the camera, a chipper smile on her face.

"Which is where we come in, to help give back to those poor struggling families, and to give these desperate, overwhelmed people a little peace of mind. Welcome back viewers to another stream where we give cash and get a death in return. It's the Snuff Stream!"

She pressed a key and the theme song jingled merrily. A quick glance at the second monitor, and her smile widened. This one was going to be a banger, with 80,000 viewers and climbing. "Our Snuff of the day is one Timothy Olsen, 18 year old high school student from Miscinaw, Michigan. On his social media he's talked about the usual sad, pitiful bullshit like the abusive drunk father, the bullying at school, the drug addiction, the self prostitution, the mother taken by an easily treatable illness if not for their lack of medical insurance."

MissMelancholy looked up at the camera, a sad look on her face. "Enough to break even my cold heart. This kid has had it rough, and we know he wants out. Well, he's gonna get it, because we've gone and picked him up, free of charge!" She switched the feed to the HD camera rig in the basement.

Timothy was sitting on the stool, nervously tapping his feet against the cold concrete floor when his phone buzzed, and he noticed a new message pop up.

"do it now"

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Take a Hint - Part 1

“You’re sure that it’s no trouble?” Celia asked me, as I pressed down on my key fob, unlocking the passenger side door. I shook my head.

“Really, I don’t mind. What are friends for? I’m just sorry Brendan couldn’t take you.” We both got in and settled in our seats, as I turned the key making my old piece of shit shake.

“Yeah, but you know how his dad is.” She chuckled. Yeah, I did. Brendan’s dad was a tough man, was all business and no fun. And for whatever reason, even since we were kids, he felt the need not only to impose that on his own son, but his son’s best friend too. Neither of us bought into it, but I could at least tell him to fuck off – he wasn’t my dad, after all. Brendan wasn’t so lucky. He was even having to miss his girlfriend’s slaughter date because of it.

“Yeah. So, how far do you want me to go with you? Do you want me to just drop you off? Or-“

“If you got somewhere to be, just say so.” She smirked.

“Nah, it isn’t that. I’ll even stay and watch you on the line.”

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my take on the dolcett genre I do not like the underage or non-consensual aspects of it and I dislike the eugenics aspects. Feel free to use the setting without crediting me. This work is in the public domain.
If you are reading this you have stumbled on one of the dimensions of the nuita race as we are farmers of man shaped organisms and we look like sexless beings that are transparent so you can see our organs with balls of magic as heads. we place portals to various places in the multiverse, . We nuita only farm organisms that want to be meat and is of breeding age. They are feed high class food and the meat of norbs which look like cows with antlers and trunks. Our organisms get reincarnated in our vats so they can keep experiencing their joy of being our products. We also offer day-trips and tours so you can see how well they are being treated and take some home as spouse or slave. We have any products you would want from the organisms. If you have found a portal that means you must want this as product or customer. we also allow products to marry in that case they are a package deal. Product and customers are free to leave anytime with no consequences. Unfortunately we do not allow organisms that will contaminate the stock such as faeries, werebeasts or undead, etcetera in our dimensions, or as customers and/or stock. All our live products are guaranteed healthy and have no defects unless the customer wants a defected one.

This portal you went in is only exclusive to cisfemales that want to be meat or eat female humanoid meat, we serve our customers well

Here in the restaurant of Yuriniku Kunoichi all the girls we have are trained to be ninjas, as we believe that makes them happier. and we also offer nullo girl slaves which are girls with no breasts, nipples uterus, ovaries ,fallopian tubes,bellybutton or outer and inner labia, vagina and all of the clitoris with their outer genitals sewn up with just a peehole and anus for you to keep. we have an Edo period vibe in this restaurant. we also enjoy teaching the arts of female on female love. We also have full tabletop and live action role playing games. We do hope you enjoy your stay here. Our yuriniku kunoichi also work as dream warriors protecting the innocent. The girls are completely naked with our yuriniku kunoichi brand on their necks.
If you are reading this you have stumbled on one of the dimensions of the nuita race as we are farmers of man shaped organisms and we look like sexless beings

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Muffled

“How are you doing today Ms. Taylor?” Doctor Addams asked as he strolled into the examination room.

“I’m good,” Carol responded brightly.

“I’m sure you are,” the doctor replied with a warm smile. “Still, while you’re here we might as well actual go through with your annual physical.”

“I guess,” Carol smiled back.

“Okay,” Dr. Addams took the stethoscope from around his neck and fit the earpieces in before taking the last step to Carol as she sat on the edge of the exam table. Taking the other end of the stethoscope he placed it to her chest.

“Something wrong?” Carol asked when the doctor frowned after a few moments.

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