Nyx had always been a loner. All through his middle school and up to almost his senior year, he rarely talked to anyone, even his teachers. Nyx knew why he was a loner, for he was lusting after something society would label as a taboo: to make passionate, lusty love to a deceased body. He cared not for the gender they were in life, he realized that even though society would reject him, the corpses would not. So, gay or straight, he would accept either.

He had his sights set on a beautiful young lady named Quintessa. She was truly the epitome of dark, gothic beauty. He never cared for those rich, preppy or stuck up girls, no. The dark lifestyle was sexy and fascinating.

But, Quintessa was perfect, with her long, dark hair; her silver-gray eyes full of life; small, but curvy build; and tan skin. He could hardly wait to finally experience the true meaning of his lust.

And now, two weeks from graduation, he had set his plan in motion. All he needed was to execute it. He had his knife to slit her throat, he would not make her suffer, no. He wanted her pure, he would have strangled her but found, to his amusement really, he always had a bit of a bloodlust, but for her, he will hold back. He will not mutilate her if he can help it. He hoped for little or no struggle this night.

He entered her house without much struggle, taking care to not make much noise. He wasn't sure which room was hers, he'd have to be extremely careful, and once he reached it, he would have to crawl out a window, as going back the way he came was too risky.

It didn't take long to find her, as there were only 3 rooms in the house, one being a bathroom. He snuck carefully around her bed, positioning himself behind her, and, with one swift but careful movement, made a small incision in her neck. Her jugular would cause too much blood, and too much of a mess. He then tied a small cloth around her mouth and nose, leaving about a 1/4 of an inch of space between the cloth and her face. Quickly but quietly, he heaved her soon-to-be lifeless body over his shoulder, searching for a window.

Suddenly, he felt a small kick, hitting his leg. Another one. Another one. His victim was struggling. She knew. He would have to hurry.

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This is my original work and also my first submission here, critics and comments are always appreciated.
P.S: I'm not a native English speaker, apologies for typo or shit grammar.

Hitman: The Saints' End
Part 1

Agent 47 was laying low in some piece of shit motel when The Saints are ordered to kill him.
Little did they know, the legendary hitman had already prepared for their arrival, because earlier he had hacked into their communications line and gather all the required information to set up traps for nine trained assassins.

The first victim that falls into the hands of the hitman is Jennifer Anne Paxton, he knows it because 47 had already read all of The Saints member's data, she has blond hair and blue eyes with a scar near her right lips that turns out to be a glasgow smile, but despite the scar, she looks beautiful and hot wearing those skimpy nun uniforms.

She was standing in front of 47's ruined hotel room to check if the hitman was still breathing after the explosion from strategically planned assault using an RPG, and while she was checking under the debris, 47 surprise her with an attack from behind, holding the nun using chokehold, but the nun isn't going down without a fight.


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David watched with terror as the loan shark stood over him. He and his wife Lara were bound and gagged inside what looked like some kind of abandoned warehouse surrounded by several very unfriendly looking men.

“You own me twenty thousand dollars David,” the loan shark growled at him. “I’m growing impatient.”

David tried to respond through his gag, but the only thing that came out was a series of faint moans.

The loan shark nodded at one of his men who went over to Lara. At this both she and David let out a series of panicked moans through their gags, growing even more frantic as the man produced a knife. Grabbing Lara’s blouse he used the knife to help rip it open, then cut the strip of fabric connecting the cups of her bra, exposing her perky, ample breasts.

The loan shark gazed at his wife appreciatively for several moments before returning his attention to David.

“Your wife has lovely tits David,” he said dispassionately. “It’s a shame really.”

The loan shark turned and went over to Lara. David watched as he reached into a bucket on a stool next to the chair his wife was tied too and picked up what looked like a piece of ice. Then cupping her left breast with his free hand he rubbed the ice over her nipple, causing the rosy nub to harden from the cold. Throwing the peace of ice away the thumb of his other hand stroked the crown of her breast, rubbing her chilled, slightly damp flesh.

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I'm here again with a new story fresh from the bowels of hell itself. Jokes apart, this is something that I have had in the back of my mind for a long time after my last story of a female abducted and transformed by an alien. In some way this is a conceptual retelling: same basic premise but from another starting point and direction.

Be warned, this first post is only a prologue of sorts, and contains next to no smut, but in posting it I intend to commit myself to see the story finished at some point. Additional tags will be posted per chapter.

Frat Snuff Party
M+g(12), MF, torture, debreasting, womb removal, incest, snuff

Clara pulled up at the frat house and turned to her daughter. "You sure you want to do this?"
"Yes, mom I'm old enough to make my own decisions now."
Sara was 12 and starting to look more like a woman than a little girl. Perky B cups, spreading hips, long legs and a skinny waist on the 4'11" girl. Dressed in a short tank top that threatened to show off some underboob if she moved too quickly, and cut off jeans that barely covered anything, she looked like a tease. She, however loved sex and most men who were bold enough didn't get a tease, they got to fuck the little tart. Her mom had gotten her condoms, but she loved the feel of bare cock inside her, and loved when men came deep in her pussy.
The frat house they had pulled up to was gearing up for Friday night and Sara was eager to get passed around and fucked all night long.
Clara on the other hand, had had enough of her daughter risking pregancy, she didn't mind her being a slut, but didn't want any little babies running around.
She headed back home, knowing that she wouldn't see Sara again.
Sara headed into the party smiling at the approving looks she got. When she got to the door a young college student opened it for her. She smiled provocatively at him ad stepped inside. She was immediately grabbed by two other students and brought dowstairs to the basement. She reveled at the manhandling, she loved being 'forced' and did not resist much. They roughly removed her clothes and laid her on a table and strapped her down; this was kinky, but she did not mind. When she felt the first cock at her drooling pussy she was almost panting with excitement. As the upperclassman pushed himself into her tight young pussy, she mewled and whimpered with pleasure.
Overcum with the eroticness of fucking a 12 year old, he soon came, and was replaced by another. She came hard feeling his cum deep in her slutty little pussy.
Grabbing a beer he moved around to the head of the table. He bagan to fondle her little titties, and leaned down to suck on one.
She loved having her tits sucked, and moaned into it.

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She didn't know how she got so turned around so quickly. The young girl had been on her way home from her grandmother's after breakfast, using a little dirt road she had traveled dozens of times before when she felt nature calling her. With a large breakfast weighing on her young belly she quickly decided to head into the woods to relieve herself, but barely ten feet off the little dirt path when she lost sight of the road. Concerned she may lose her way she turned back around, hoping to have the road at least in sight as she did her business. Though somehow she had made a mistake and ended up turning the wrong way, only walking deeper into the woods. Now lost and struggling to find her way back her urges were the last thing on on her mind.


Fear began to mount as she drifted further into the woods, taking a cautious few steps before looking around, changing direction and walking once more. Everywhere she looked seemed the same, more dirt and more trees. The dull throbbing of her bladder peaked once more to a sharp pain, she hissed and gripped at her groin, bunching up her light blue dress as she looked around frantically from side to side, hoping to see something familiar or even the road. Her all too full bladder nagging against her fears of truly being lost in the woods. Distressed and fighting with the strong urge to pee she picked a direction and took off in it, dashing through the trees, hoping to find a road, any road, as she ran. Her long jet black hair billowed behind her as she ran, spilling over her shoulders and well past her young bum like a waterfall of black ink.


Without any warning, something caught her foot and yanked it forward, with a shocked yelp she was swept off of her feet and slammed onto her back, knocking the wind out of her, as well as loosening her already struggling bladder. A gush of urine erupted from her young slit, quickly soaking through the thin fabric of her panties and down between her legs, dripping onto he dress and the ground below. Yet before she could catch her breath she began to be pulled along the dirt, dragging her light blue dress through the dirt and urine soaked mud and soon up into the ther air! The young girl finally caught her breath with a ragged coughing gasp as she was hoisted up into the air, dangling by her feet.


She was nearly four feet off the ground, too far to reach the dirt with her arms, yet her extravagantly long hair managed to close the distance, a sparse few inches of jet black hair resting in the dirt. Her dress had fallen over her face exposing her meager, hardly developed chest to the open air. She quickly pushed it back down looking around in fear at an inverted world, trying to figure out how she had gotten turned upside down. In all of the rapid motion, shock and surprise she hadn’t realized she was peeing, it was only when her pee soaked through bunched up and began to trickle up her neck dribbling up her chin and onto her face that she realized she was peeing herself

“Eww Ew EWWW!” She squealed as the salty scent of urine began to assault her nose, yet all her screaming was only another mistake, allowing her own urine to trickle into her mouth.


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"Die, scum!"

I cursed as the column exploded behind me with my opponent's invective, her snake sword showering me with rubble as it cleaved through the ancient stone. I was rapidly running out of places to hide as I scurried away like a rat to another pillar, the brief reprieve doing little to quell my rising panic as my opponent's sword retracted as she advanced.

A moment of distraction crossed my mind as my opponent's strides caused her sizable breasts to jiggle, the largest pair of tits I had ever seen straining against their owner's skimpy outfit. The stories were true! Ivy Valentine was truly as impressive as the tavern tales made her out to be - cold, haughty beauty radiating from her, and an outfit to match - one that was half aristocrat and half dominatrix. That outfit left little of her voluptuous body to the imagination. If I had more time, I would definitely be admiring those perfectly shaped tits or that oh-so-round ass with the thin strip of fabric wedged between the cheeks and practically into her barely concealed pussy. Her high heels clicked on the floor as she strode towards me, and I stole a glance at her tits through some of the cracks in the stone.

The reason for my interest in her tits, besides the obvious, was that she was playing with them with one hand as she pursued me casually. Originally she had an armored gauntlet on one arm, but she had quickly abandoned that after it was obvious I was no match. Now the domina was stalking me, nipples standing out starkly underneath her outfit, her voice thick with lust and arrogance as she pawed at her own tits. Clearly, the dominatrix outfit wasn't just an act, and she was very clearly getting off on the possibility of butchering me. The whiplike Valentine, which she wielded with a flourish, added to the effect.

"Must you run?" she called out in her haughty English accent. "It makes it that much harder to see you squirm!"

I took mental note of my situation. All I had was my bow and two daggers for weapons. Normally, I would take my chances against a sword wielder in a battle, but the enclosed space of the ancient cathedral coupled with the unique nature of Ivy's weapon meant I couldn't get aim and get a shot off before being skewered. The daggers weren't much use either - even if I could get close to her, her retracted sword would make quick work of me before I could close the last bit of distance.

A moment of self-pity filled my mind. If only I hadn't deserted from my unit to go explore for treasure in the ruins of Ostrheinsburg. No one dared go into the cursed city, which made it a perfect opportunity in my mind - all the treasure must be untouched! So far all I had found were several shards of what appeared to be an ancient sword, the metal bits humming with arcane magic. I had fashioned them into arrowheads as I ventured deeper into the ruins, and soon after I had encountered Ivy.

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Quick and short story I just wrote, to be continiued. Feel free to add your suggestions for what's going to happen next.

---

Johanna sat in class, doing her schoolwork quietly when the school nurse entered the classroom.

“Johanna, can you come with me please?” she said, half whispering, as to not disturb the other students.

The young girl glanced at her teacher, which approved of her absence with a single nod before returning his gaze to the stack of papers on his desk. Johanna knew what was happening; she had just celebrated her thirteenth birthday which meant she was eligible for the Student Financing Program. Known simply as “the Program” between students, it was the main source of income for the school. Students aged thirteen and over were put up on the school website, where wealthy individuals could purchase their meat for a hefty price. They could bid on either certain cuts or the whole girl, and if the bid was high enough the school would accept and begin processing immediately. Meat from young girls was highly sought after but very scarce, and so the cost was very high. The school did not have to sell many girls at all to raise enough money, and in return the students paid only a symbolical admission fee. The girls were grouped in sixteen batches, each batch available for bidding one week each semester. Johanna was available for the first time that very week.

When Johanna walked out of the classroom that day she didn’t know what parts of her were going to be missing when she returned, or if she would return at all. Still she did not hesitate, eager to fulfill her duty to the prestigious school she had been accepted to. She was a very pretty girl, with long brown hair, usually worn in a braid, bright green eyes, lush smooth lips and perky, budding breasts. She wore her uniform, with a green jacket, matching skirt, black shoes and a white shirt with a red tie.

The girl and the nurse walked in silence through the hallways before reaching the processing room, located in the cellar. The processer on duty was already there, a muscular guy in his thirties with a moderate tan and a surprisingly friendly face.

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***The following is a story of fiction. The author does not condone
violence towards anybody***


Brother Felipe -

I'm just an old man now. Do you remember, Brother? We met only a year ago. I could not speak, but you stayed with me that evening, and what a delightful conversation we had with a stack of papers and a single ink pen. Let's keep that to ourselves. The Church would throw a fit if they knew we wasted precious ink and pulp to have but a fleeting conversation. I cherish it, though. And I am writing to you now, because I know I can trust you.

I feel I must tell you what terrible things I have witnessed and write them down, lest they had never happened. Nobody speaks of it, what they had witnessed that day. The regional Church of Santiago Marin had gone too far, of course. They were just whispers then. But we were all afraid. Who could say anything about the Church after what they had just seen? Back then, the Church of Santiago Marin was powerful and influential. We
had to protect ourselves. We had to keep our children safe. We were scared. Who could blame us? But then again, our silence is what damned us, and our silence is what will continue to damn us if nobody remembers what happened. And we won't remember, which is why I write this letter to you now, my dear friend. Many of these words will be painful to write, but I must.

It began nearly a decade ago in the town of Santiago Marin, my place of birth actually. I don't remember if I had told you that. I was a vocal opponent of the regional church there. Mind you, this was during the start of this new movement sweeping the country. The Inquisition, I believe some are calling it now. Things have started to slow a bit since then, but remember ten years ago when friends and family were whisked away left and right? That's when this story begins. I am not going to tell you about what happened to me. My story is unremarkable. Like so many others I was
unjustly imprisoned. I was tortured. I was locked up like an animal. But I was spared the worst of the cruelty. And I was eventually freed. They should have killed me. Now I am rotting in my old bones, with memories too painful to bear.

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Dr Ritsuko Akagi sips her tea and looks over the operation notes held conveniently in her clipboard. It is a break for her, not her subject, who may have water right now and nothing else. INTERFACE HEADSETS, still top of the list. Why did she expect otherwise. She taps the tip of a biro near the edge of the name, then scrawls a character. It is not a normal meaning, but she uses it to signify whenever she has a misgiving about the results based on this subject and she wishes to write a paper on it later. The doctor audibly scoffs. Can they really expect a working model gained from this subject will be useful on a person? She dents the paper with a firm tap of the biro three times. I. Think. Not. they signify.

She sets the clipboard aside and stands. The subject is a few passes away from her work desk, sitting in a chair of a mock cockpit. It is nothing like the final product will look like, but its look is no matter. On a rollable desk are the control handles, and a projector shines a fuzzy light in standby mode on the far wall. Around the chair, stand sensor arrays on three-legged bases. The girl, at least that is what shape it is in, holds a small paper cup of water, which Ritsuko pinches by the rim and pulls away. The small hands lower to her lap. "That is enough break, Ayanami. We are proceeding with the interface headsets. In this test, you will complete tasks as assigned to the best of your ability."

Rei does not answer. Ritsuko drops the cup in a bin on her way around to her control console. "Ayanami, answer me when I speak to you and give you an order."

"Acknowledged."

"Better," the doctor says coldly. She boots the test programme, then sets the arrays to calibration. The main test protocols in the system, on the other hand, will take time to initialize. The simulator arrays, sensors, diagnostic suits, and so on were all built by the NERV counterparts in the United States. Powerful and sensitive equipment they are, the design architecture lacks elegance. Thus, they are all slow to work together. She does not have time to overhaul the whole system and fix the problem, but Ritsuko often muses that the American penchant for clumsiness has delayed the project by at least four months. It is just as well that she is alone with the subject; Ristuko feels she lacks the patience for having other humans in her lab today.

While the equipment prepares itself, Ritsuko brings the prototype interface headset to Rei. It is eight nodes, linked by a matrix of wires, and connected by a bundle of cabling to the computer system. She places it on Rei's head. When her hand frees, the doctor turns toward her a monitor which, which displays a NERV SCIENCE logo. A shake of the mouse dispels the screen saver. Wave forms appear, like undulating ice crystals. Each sensor has a display for its reading and its signal strength in real time. While she adjusts the headset according to what she sees on the display, she says, "Rei, do you know what a crustacean is?"

"Yes."

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I've been writing breast-destruction guro stories for ages now but have recently been trying my hand at some evisceration action too.

...which is something that can be found in a fair number of my stories, but this is the first to really focus on it.

***************************************************
*ENTRANCE_01*
*REDHEAD_01*
*RAMPAGE_01*
*TRIO_01*
*FRAMES_01*
*STAFF_GIRLS_01*
*STAFF_GIRLS_02*
*SURRENDER_POSE_01*

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Autumn wept as she was lead into the room. A cold steel scaffold was erected in the back against the wall, it’s joints configurable so the bound victim could be moved and positioned in any number of ways. A video camera sat on a tripod pointed directly at it, it’s display open and a single red light blinking.

“Oh god, please” Autumn meekly teased out. Tears were streaming down her gentle cheeks from eyes concealed by lengthy bangs. “Please just kill me and get this over with.” she pleaded, but she knew in her heart it would be to no avail. She and the other girls were forced to watch the execution preceding their own, so she knew what horrors awaited her. Just yesterday, she had been taken to this exact room to find one of the other girls from her group strapped to this very scaffold. Over the course of several hours she watched in complete horror as the executioner slit open the poor girl’s abdomen and dumped her guts out between her legs. The screaming and crying and begging of the girl was now stamped on her brain. She cried all night and didn’t sleep for even a moment, her mind in shock from seeing such a tortured and drawn out death. They came for her the next morning.

The moment she saw which room they were taking her to Autumn began to cry and beg. She knew what was in store for her and she couldn’t even begin to imagine what the experience was going to be like. All she knew was that she had to stop it somehow, there was no way that was going to happen to her. But she couldn’t see a way to get out of it. She was handcuffed and deep within a facility she couldn’t even begin to guess the location of. She had no tools or resources, only the cuffs around her wrists and ankles and what little clothing they had been issued, which mainly consisted of a skin tight short sleeve crop top several sizes too small and similar tight shorts. The clothing had hardly been appropriate for the cold nights on the concrete floor of the girl’s cell and they had resorted to huddling together in as they slept for warmth.

As they began to unlock her cuffs, she briefly started thinking about running for the door, but the guards were careful and kept a tight grip on her, making sure to bind her feet to the scaffold before undoing her hands. The scaffold was arranged so that she was standing up with her feet spaced about a foot and a half apart and her arms strapped down by her sides. There were two handles just below the binds which she could grip and hold onto. The middle of the scaffold was extruded slightly, forcing her to push her belly out a bit.

“Oh god, please please please don’t do this to me!” she started tearfully screaming. “PLEASE! I’ll do anything you want, ANYTHING!”

She was completely ignored and her executioner continued to configure everything. Once she was fully strapped in, he adjusted her head strap so that it forced her to look down towards her abdomen. “Oh god.” she whimpered in horrible anticipation.

The executioner then took a red marker and traced a dotted line down her stomach from her sternum all the way down through her belly button and to her shorts. He then placed a frying pan on the floor between her legs, looked up at her with cold eyes and a smirk on his face, and began to finger her belly button. “Today you are going to become extremely familiar with the contents of this lovely belly of yours.” he whispered in her ear as tears streamed down her face. “Did you know you have over 25 feet of intestines coiled up in there? You saw what happened to the other girl so you know exactly what to expect. I hear the pain is just unfathomable, not to mention the gruesome sight of your own bowels hanging out the front of your bisected belly.”

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So, not my first story and not something I started last night. Been picking at this for at least two years now and figure that its as good as its gonna get without outside input. I am gonna be posting this elsewhere (4uckedinthehead on hentaifoundry and AO3.) I will tag as thoroughly as I can think to because theres gonna be a broad spectrum of fucked up in this story. That being said, I probably wont think of everything, so be forwarned. In general, the main themes are cannibalism, slavery, mindfuckery, torture, transformation and non/semicon.

Last thing, I have about another 50k words written, in about 20 chapters in varying stages of completion and polish. If anyone would like to speed up the otherwise glacial rate I will post, hmu [email protected]

The devils speak to me, though these worms. Sssomething makess them... good conduits for the spirits that pray to me.

Now I have a fine subject. He comes to and glances around, tries to move and realizes his predicament.
He had visions of this, and even now, in the midst of his intense whirling fear, he senses his own disturbed hope that he might enjoy it.
But his fear commands his voice, and a gag smothers it.

His limbs and face are all to be morphed. And so very pained...

My scalpel starts slow... running down his inner thigh, before I scoop some fat and sew in an ice cube. Not just any ice, but some freeze-dried gas-turned-solid super ice. It won't be lethal or put him into cardiac arrest, but it'll hurt, a lot.

Not as bad as the fire I run down the other leg's thigh. Just a run of the mill lighter. On a restrained man.

No need to tend to these wounds, I stroll to glass boxes of maggots. In what order was it? They go in last, I remember that. Their home must be prepped. And he must taste himself.

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Commission from a buddy of mine. If you want to commission anything from her, send an email: [email protected]
---

Alyssa was, in simple terms, nothing short of eye candy-- and she knew it. Walking into the doors of Oceanside’s All Girls Preparatory Academy, she walked with a bounce in her step, and her boobs.

During school hours it was open warfare of the sexual appeal type. Her uniform, a white collared shirt with the school’s emblem on the left breast, was left unbuttoned and exposing cleavage, and her blue and black plaid skirt was just passing in terms of dress code. One could usually find her staring off absentmindedly in class, twirling a lock of her blonde hair around her finger and smirking to herself.

In fact, this type of arrogant and conceited behavior was one of the many things that caused an upstart in Sara’s hatred for her-- the final nail in the coffin was when her boyfriend confessed to cheating with the Oceanside Princess herself. Sara bitterly wondered if the same situation would have happened had she dressed less modestly, showed some more cleavage, and dyed her neatly styled black hair and side bangs platinum blonde. But even still, Sara could have moved on with her life and turned the other way, if not for what happened next.

At one point, not long after her boyfriend had split with her, in a fit of uncharacteristic rage (much different from her usual shy and calm demeanor) she approached Alyssa after class. It was just the two of them there. A few back and forth remarks to the blonde and Sara felt as if she was coming out on top in the word war.

"Hopefully this bitch’ll go and shoot her brains out if I say the right things," Sara recalled thinking to herself at that moment. But whether it was from the adrenaline of the situation, or the rice and beans she had eaten for lunch, her stomach began to bubble.


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