I decided to make a thread for my stories that are too short for their own thread.

This first one is a a Danganronpa: Ultra Despair Girls story. At one point, the two playable characters are put into a battle against each other. It's heavily implied that Toko's holding back during the fight, so the idea of a story when she didn't came naturally. I tried to stay true to the game, with most of the dialogue taken from what the girls say during the battle.

Komaru Loses a Fight (F, slashing, debreasting, snuff)

“Guess there’s no other way… by force if I have to…” Toko Fukawa commented with a note of sadness.

“…Force?” Komaru Naegi repeated, not understanding what the other girl meant. She understood when Toko moved her stun gun to her head, and shocked herself. Komaru had seen the transformation into Genocider Jack enough times recently, so she knew what was coming. Still, she wasn’t expecting that Toko would attack her.

Genocider opened her eyes, and looked at the girl opposite her. Toko had been travelling with her for the past few days, and she even began to like the girl a bit. Still, she knew what she had to do.

“Gotta kiiill! Kill kill kill kill! I got no choice, I gotta start slicin’!” She screamed with a deadly laugh as she took her sc issors out of the holsters on her legs.

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Uraraka improves herself!

“Are you absolutely sure, that this will make me stronger?” Uraraka ask still in disbelieve, that’s she actual plan to do it!
“Well, there are other options you can try… but nothing will work as fast and efficiently like cutting off your breast.” Deku explains blushing.
Deku’s notes are 100% perfect. He knows every strength and especially every weakness, from his Classmates. His notes say, that’s her breasts are too heavy for her small body! Her body instinctively compensate it, using her quirk to hold them in balance…
That is why she always feels nausea when she changes the gravity of her own body. Her body is thrown out of balance.
However, if she removes these two obstacles, she would have much better control over her quirk. It would improve her skills by about 17.2%. According to Deku.
“I know. I know!” she shouts shyly. “Still… roasting them, sound a little bit extreme.” Normally she is cheerful girl but this situation it’s a little bit difficult.
Yaoyorozu taps her shoulder. “You wanted to get artificial replacements, right? If you want them to be realistic. Then it isn’t enough to see them. I must also feel and taste them. Otherwise my Quirk doesn’t work.” She grins. “Besides, it would be a waste to throw them away.”
Uraraka looks at the floor. “And they really would feel realistic?”
Yaoyorozu continues to explain. "They will be like the real deal, only smaller. I bought all the material from which women breasts are made. There will be no bare copies, they will be real breasts!”
Urarake sighs. "Okay, but please don’t tell anyone that I'm doing this. If someone asks, we just have to come up with an excuse!"
"I'm doing it with my own regularly. So far, you haven’t noticed." Yaoyorozu laughs.

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Church of the Fallen Angel

by Regis



BACK STORY


The discovery by authorities of his predilection for intimacy with youth in his care was inevitable. Father McSweeny had been in the priesthood for more than 30 years, and for much of that time, when parents of a child protested to the Bishop that McSweeny had a taste for intimate contact between his tongue and the genitals of their children, he would be sent on vacation, then when the dust had settled, instead of returning he would be quietly reassigned to another parish in a distant state, where inevitably he would resume his exploration of the sexuality of delightfully immature children.

This was the way of the Catholic Church, protecting its own from the spotlight of public indignation and damaging negative press by simply transplanting the problem. He was seen by the new parishioners to have a varied career, in that he had served under more than a dozen Bishops, and five Archbishops. None of his new parishioners knew that he was simply being transferred to a new location where he had the opportunity to harvest new sexual relationships with children, and in particular, with theirs.


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Mostly written for myself, but I figured I'd post it here in case anyone else finds it enjoyable.

Chihiro Fujisaki was a student of Hope's Peak Academy for a fairly long while. He was enrolled as the "Ultimate Programmer", due to his unmatched expertise in the field. This was what allowed him to enroll in the first place, as the academy only accepted students that are the best of the best at what they do- a.k.a. "Ultimate" students.

Chihiro met a boy named Makoto Naegi, the "Ultimate Lucky Student", shortly after enrolling in the academy, and the two immediately hit it off. Makoto was about a year older than the programmer, but he was much taller. Eventually, Chihiro became comfortable enough with him to reveal his secret- that he was a male.

Because Chihiro was a crossdresser, who'd posed as female from day one.

When Makoto found out the truth, he just smiled and said "I'd never have guessed." Their relationship only got stronger. Nobody was surprised when the two became a romantic couple about two months later, on Chihiro's 19th birthday.

The programmer had a very special birthday wish, and he worked up the courage to tell his beloved about it. At around 2:00 PM that afternoon, the two of them met up in Makoto's dorm room, sitting next to each other on his bed.

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I have been enjoying the new stories on the board too much to find time to write any more of my own, so here is a story I wrote a while back.

The New Nursery (preg, cons, snuff, MF + g-unborn)

The pregnancy happened by surprise, but they started getting ready for the new arrival the day the home test came up positive. She didn't have any plans to make, since she hadn't yet started looking for a job after getting her computer science degree. His schedule at the hospital was flexible, and with male nurses in short supply, he had no trouble working extra shifts so that he could take off work completely for several months. She turned her home office into the nursery. As her due date drew nearer, and irregular contractions reminded them that they needed to hurry, they painted it in a jungle print pattern, with light and dark green, accented with an orange-red sky. They planned ahead, and the smell of paint was long gone now. But they never did get around to pulling up the protective plastic tarp that covered the wood floor, and all the baby furniture was pushed to the middle of the room.

With her contractions starting, though, it was time to move the furniture back into place. They moved the crib and changing table, though of course he did most of the lifting. Even so, perhaps because of the moving, or perhaps just from seeing the baby's room take shape, she noticed that her contractions were becoming more regular. The small guest bed and the baby's dresser were still in the wrong place, so she sat on the end of the bed and breathed through the contraction. He came over and kissed her on the lips, then between her breasts, and then pulled up her T-shirt and kissed her bulging belly.

"You're contracting," he said. "Ten minutes apart," she whispered, loving the feeling of his hands on her belly. "Kiss me more," she said in a low voice.

He pulled the shirt up to reveal her breasts, dark nipples full of milk, pulling to the sides but too engorged to go far. He kissed her left nipple, drawing it into his mouth and feeling the hot milk on his tongue. In just a few minutes, they were both naked, as he knelt at the foot of the bed between her legs, teasing her femininity. This had been their favorite position for the last two months, with her scooted to the end of the bed, legs hanging off the edge or on his shoulders, vulva exposed as though ready to give birth. As he nibbled her labia, teasing her vagina, he noticed how she tasted different, sweeter, and he could feel his desire building. This was it, he
realized, the end of nine months of hidden, secret desire. Could he really do what his soul begged him to do? Could he really experience his ultimate fantasy?


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The constant breeze was humid and warm, felt almost alive. It was too dark to see, but and the way it touched the more sensitive areas of her body made Libby realize that she had been stripped naked. Very slowly, her eyes started to adapt to the gloom.
Libby felt dizzy. She tried to stay calm, to figure out where exactly she was: Near the wall of a large, circular chamber with weak lighting she now started to perceive as bluish green.
Only it was no chamber: Every surface was glistening like wet skin, translucent even at some places, and fine veins seemed to cover everything. Inspecting the ceiling was like looking at a giant mushroom's head from below, lamellae spanning from the outer walls to the center, where things that looked like large eggs lined the slimy ground.
And everything seemed to be breathing somehow, moving in a slow rhythm, like a giant organism.
While all of this was disturbing, it played but the smallest role in Libby's discomfort.

The actual horror emerged from the sight of all the other women and girls around her, arranged in a large circle along the wall. Even with her 24 years, most of them looked younger to her, and none much older. All of them were naked, their arms and legs held in place by some kind of tentacles that seemed to grow from the organic walls of their prison.
Some were moaning, some sobbing, the tears of some running in silent fear. Most were still unconscious, though. Libby counted about two dozen.

All she could move was her head. She felt the warm, slippery wall touching her back as well as the tentacles that bound her arms and legs to it in a degrading manner. And while Libby’s sense of touch seemed fine, her ability to move was not. The tentacles holding her in place seemed weak enough for her to rip free, but when she tried to do just that, her limbs only answered with a slight tingling sensation. The women weren't just bound to the wall. They were being held in place, their limbs paralyzed. The realization made her feel even more violated.

"Hello?"


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Worms

 "So, if you'll follow me, I'll be explaining your new duties and responsibilities as I take you on a brief tour of the mansion and surrounding grounds." Elaine instructed, motioning the new girl to fall in beside her as she began walking.

 "You'll start out doing the most unpleasant chores, unfortunately. Sweeping and mopping the floors, cleaning the bathrooms, and other things of a similarly menial nature." the head maid said, as she led the way into the grand house. "The Mistress absolutely abhors dirt and dust, so you'll need to be very diligent in completing your tasks. Please believe me when I tell you that she WILL notice if you shirk."

 "Yes, ma'am." Citrie answered promptly, as she took in the lavishly appointed entrance hall, her mouth slightly open in amazement at the wealth she beheld there.

 "Now, now, there's no need to be so formal with me. I prefer that all we staff members refer to each other on a first name basis. The camaraderie helps us bond and fulfill our duties to our Mistress more effectively, I believe." Elaine said, while smiling genially at the young woman, who was really scarcely more than a girl, and who was also now the newest member of the household.

 "The Mistress, however, is another matter entirely. Failure to show her the respect due her station will quickly lead to a punishment session in the dungeons. Mistress loves to break in new girls like you by binding them to the rack and then switching their bare bottoms a few dozen times, until they're pleading and crying for mercy. She's always looking a reason to do it to any of us, in fact. So, don't give her a reason if you want your bottom to stay unmarked."

 "Um, y-yes, ma'am.. uh, I mean, yes, Elaine." Citrie replied, gulping a little and flushing at the thought of being so punished.

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From the farthest reaches of my mind, I heard a woman scream.

I shook my head from side to side and drug my consciousness back into the current moment. Heather looked confused and asked me if I was okay.

"Yeah, I'm fine, perfectly fine," I said as I wondered the same thing myself. "Are you ready to order?"

She smiled her crooked, wide smile and nodded eagerly. I thought to myself, "God, I love this girl. So why am I having such graphic visions of destroying her?"

The doctor called them "intrusive thoughts" and said they were common among people with severe depression. I think they make me a bastard, but he assured me that they weren't a slight against my character, or evidence that I lacked a moral compass. I still think otherwise.

Heather and I have been dating for four years, and we're supposed to be getting married in the fall. This thought makes me smile, and I often get lost in daydreams of being her husband. Each time I look at her, I picture a life with her, then I picture bashing her fucking head in with a hammer while her screams echo into the distance.

It seemed each "intrusive thought" was punctuated by a woman's scream.

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She was cute. But scarred. So am I. I'm not a slayer though, I've just been... through a lot. Not as much as a Top Class Assassin, though. She was, and hunted many of my fellows. Just my luck, here I was, with a beautiful big-breasted blue-eyed bitch that was tied to a chair, securely thanks to my former ship-mates. She had an hourglass figure, but I knew she wasn't a mere model. She was deadly, and the reason my crew was now dead, aside from the 2 who helped me stop her, but they had enough. They wanted no part of what I was going to do.

"Have you ever known love?" I ran my fingers over her sharp sweaty hair. It was soft and dry. My question was met with tired contempt.

"I'm saving myself for marriage." Typical of her sort. She was disciplined. I knew her training involved staying in frigid, fetid swamp water, getting frostbite and bug bites for hours. And everything she fought, that they fought for... was to fight against my personal freedom.

"And you think I should too? That I'm evil for being with the girl you murdered? You sick bitch." I saw her eyes go wide.

"Please, I thought she was someone else..." Oh, don't they always.

"You knew she probably wasn't. Just saw a fine girl, dark hair, rebel outfit, wore a symbol you disagreed with. You think 'eh, fuck it. Should kill her.'"


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The Fool's Baron

Alight with sound and music and gaiety, the festival rang with laughter and cheer as the King's new harlequin set herself to work, juggling and dancing and cracking wise with equal dexterity in every act as her audience heckled and cheered playfully. With some luck she had happened on the work, having been discovered by one of the king's servants when about town on an errand, and with much gusto she performed and acted and pranced, deriving a certain joy from entertaining her captive audience ... and deriving a certain joy and excitement as she felt ogling eyes on her body.

Wrapped in taut leathers and a colorful bodice of scarlet, with a tightly-drawn black corset and tall heels clicking on the floor as she moved, she knew that her dress would be sure to draw attention, and her admirers--man and woman alike--made little effort to hide their lust as they took in the show, and the fetching young lady performing it. Each high step, each demonstrative gesture caused her full breasts to jiggle, and she delighted in noticing each of their leering gazes; until she spun about in a dance and stopped before a tall and broad man, and paused. He was a mountain, a wide and strong man in sharp dress and wearing a long and pointed beard of the finest grooming. She could see quite immediately he was an important figure, and so stopped to wave a hand in bowing low, crossing one foot over another politely and bowing so low as to nearly touch the ends of her jester's hat on the floor; and when she rose again, the painted-white surface of her face creased just a bit as she winked but briefly at him. Quickly she turned and went back to her work with a neat cartwheel, and at the center of the floor she paused to again bow to the audience ... keeping her back to her admirer, and bowing low again; low enough to pinch her vulva between her thighs and present herself to him for a longer moment than was necessary to salute the crowd.

The night dragged long after that, and thoughts of before pushed away from her mind as she focused on the excited prospect of a midnight rendezvous; thoughts and questions, too, of what had happened to the previous harlequin, and those before her. As the hour grew late the party finally dispersed, dismissed by the King who had sated his palette on beer and wine and fine cuts of meats until he had lost his appetite for entertainment for the evening; and with a light and airy bounce in her step the jester left from the room to retire herself ... and yet, it was a sad and long walk to her quarters, though they were not far. She had expected to meet her admirer after the party, and yet he was scarce to be found in the hall. The corridors turned an angle, and she soon entered her quarters to begin to undress, when the door swung shut behind her.

She hopped about with a start--having not closed the door herself--and gasped when a large and broad form loomed in the shadows, only to step out to reveal itself to be her admirer. Swallowing a catch, she breathed and waited for him--equal parts excitedly aroused and fearful that he could let himself into her room--but when he approached and lifted his hands, smiling with silent entreaty, she laid her hands in his to feel his gentle touch and warmth. Carefully she lifted her face towards him--the fool's own baron--until their lips met for a quiet kiss, then another, and still deeper and fuller kisses as their arms found their way over each other's bodies, up and down and under clothing until his jacket was off and her breasts squeezed in his strong and wide palms, each driven by a primal urge to copulate and make on good on their mutual, unspoken desires. Hungrier and hungrier they grew, a lust both carnal and powerful shared between them, and soon his hands ran down her waist and over her full buttocks to latch onto her pants, where he grabbed and pulled and tore on the tight fabric until he had ripped the seat open wide enough to expose her crotch.

And then, in one mighty heave, he grabbed her by the asscheeks and lifted her up over his waist. Breathing a gasp, his little plaything felt her pulse race excitedly at his strength, and as he balanced her aloft--aided by her legs about his waist and her breasts mashed against his chest--she reached down between his legs and undid his trousers, reached into his clothing, and removed his long and stiff pole so she could pet and rub and caress the throbbing member; feeling his warm strength and sex in her hands. He groaned a hungry growl, then positioned her over himself to rub the tip against her vulva, a tickling and gentle sensation that caused her to gasp again and moan expectantly, when he pushed himself inside her and plunged her down onto his manhood, the long and stiff thing reaching into her body until it forced itself against her flesh.

Her moans grew suddenly sharp and pleasured, and their mutual lust grew fevered as he lifted and dropped her onto himself, smacking his balls against her ass as her breasts rolled up and down over his chest. She could feel the tiny and warm bits of cum shooting up into her, but as her own juice slicked his member and she felt an orgasm welling in her loins he suddenly turned and flung her onto the bed, where she bounced and rolled in surprise until he straddled over her. A bit unnerved by his abrupt aggressiveness, she nevertheless grew carnal again as he kissed and caressed her neck, her shoulders, and her breasts, and her hands slid up and down his back and head as he removed a sash from his clothing.

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The Cull

Naked and trembling, little Lola mouse stepped forth from the dressing area, with only a thin black choker bearing a name tag and registry number. Large, round ears drooped submissively as she passed through the entrance, taking note of the many cameras with their shining red lights--indicating live filming--and timid, shaky footfalls led her slowly towards her fate ... but she shook not from fright, but restrained excitement.

This was the moment she had anticipated for months; the moment she had carefully dieted for, planned for, and prepared herself for: it was her time for the Cull, her time to become a star, to be admired and lusted for and, ultimately, cum for. Once a month, it had been ordained, the population of the Lesser species must be culled, to be reduced and slashed until it could again become manageable. Rampant overpopulation had demanded it, and modern depravity had twisted it into a game of lust, of sex, and of gory delight. In short, she would be sacrificed on the totem pole of a bull's member, impaled and stretched until she burst and, quite simply, died from the fucking.

Maybe it should have been normal for a girl to have a sense of self-preservation, to want to survive and thrive and grow into old age ... but this was a great event, a festival of sex and degenerate lust, and a celebrated ending to a short life; she would be a trophy, a prize, and a star in every right, with the event televised across the world to an audience millions strong, man and woman alike waiting and edging and watching as one of the arena's stars ripped her apart upon his powerful member. Indeed, it was a volunteer's event: prey were groomed and trained and even bred for this, and often the line to apply grew longer than the list of available positions; victims could even choose from their death options, and the options soon had to be expanded to include the creative, and for mass executions--firing squad, hanging, beheading, spitting. It had become an honor, a violent and sexy ending to a life that would otherwise have no meaning. Lola had chosen the personal option, the one hardest to earn, to whom only the most "gifted" of girls could be chosen: public arena copulation.

As trembling legs brought her forward, she did her best to hide a blush, appearing to be demure and shy under the bright lights of the arena in playing to her audience--doubtless an adoring one, or so she hoped--and she had to catch her own voice to avoid an audible gasp once she turned to face the throne; for seated atop it was the arena's top male draw, the bull named Tawr, an eight-foot monster of a man whose two-foot member already stood at half-erection, the long and thick pole lifting itself barely inches off the ground before him. "Oh, thank you! Thank you, Overseers!" she thought, swallowing an excited gasp and fighting against an excited squeal, until she was forced to lower her gaze submissively, else she break character before her audience.

She approached the throne, her eyes drifting up to see Tawr's cock rising before her, veins throbbing and pulsing and sending an excited flutter into her heart, and a cold chill of sheer arousal through her veins and loins. Clasping her hands over her lap, she tried to hide the thick wetness pouring down her thighs--streaming out in thin and steady squirts of pussy-juice--and stopped before the foot of the throne, where she licked her lips ever so thinly, eager to taste of his flesh and milk. As the light gleamed from the cock ring clamping down near his base, she nodded her head down when his authoritative and booming voice suddenly commanded, "Stand over me."

She glanced up to his stern, hardened gaze and knew he meant not for her to stand her tiny, four-foot frame over his hips ... he meant for her to stand over his member. Swallowing again--lest she lose control--she did as commanded, stepping carefully and demurely over his length until she stood near his pelvis, her face barely reaching up to his chest, even as he remained seated. Her tail twitched in spite of herself, and as he again spoke juice dripped from her lips onto his cock, slickening its length until it glistened under the hot studio lights. "I'm still soft ... stroke me."

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So, some years ago, I wrote a "little" serial called Puppy Mill. It was about a woman, Merrie, who was kidnapped off the streets, raped, and amputated into a sex slave. Later, after a lot of drama, she ended fucked a lot and gained an incredible amount of powers. It ended when she killed a goddess... at the same time she died.

This isn't done, but there are going to be a huge number of tags, not limited to fucking in every hole, amputation, size, magic, rape, messy, demon, bondage, D/s, and a probably a tentacle or two.

Claire walked to the car with the sergeant who was her recruiter. At just thirteen years old she wouldn't have been able to join until congress, in another social expirement with the military lowered the recruiting age to anyone who had started high school. They reasoned, this would be just like military school, only with the actual military. It was a highly controversial move, but to Claire it was a chance to escape her home. She was constantly fighting with her mom, and her stepdad didn't seem to give two shits about her, except to check out her blossoming tits. She was a bit of a late bloomer, but had just graduated to a 28 B bra. at 5 feet even these still seemed a bit small on her and she was hoping they would grow still. She had olive skin, courtesey of her father, who was second generation Assyrian. Her mother was white, and she could definately pass for a white girl, just with a good tan. She was overall pleased with her appearance, several years of running cross country in junior high had toned her whole body, and she hoped, prepared her for the physical challanges of Parris Island.
At the MEPS, she went through the usual tests and paperwork, somewhat confused by it, but signed her name were the Gunny told her to. She noticed there were several other girls who looked about her age, and when she got a free moment went to talk to them. Most were joining the Army, a couple were Air Force and Navy, and one was joining the Marines, like her. Beverly 'Bev' was 14, with red hair and light skin. Also starting her freshmen year that fall, she wasn't trying to escape home, but had joined for adventure. They chatted nervously until it was time to go. As they had enlisted out of RS Atlanta, they did not get on a plane, but took a bus with 8 other kids, all boys to Parris Island.
After the initial shock, "GET OFF MY BUS! ON THE YELLOW FOOTPRINTS! RUN HERE! RUN THERE!" they found themselves inside a classroom, segregated from the boys they were in a room with about 45 other girls. Then a female drill instructor came into the room an informed them that the were 4th Battalion Oscar Company Platoon 4092 and that from then on, she was the mother.
The culture shock was complete. They were stripped of their clothes, issued standard camouflage utilities or cammies, and hearded to a squad bay full of metal bunk bed style racks.
Most of the girls in the platoon were seventeen or eighteen years old. But there were eleven of them that were thirteen and fourteen. You couldn't join midway through high school (something about differeing acedemic standards), it was an all or nothing deal.
Duran (Claire's last name) and Brown (Bev's last name) had managed to end up as rack mates. Through out that initial haze of recieving and pickup they remained together, scared, missing home (Brown more than Duran) and wondering what the hell they had gotten into.
Senior Drill Instructor Staff Sergeant Williamson and the other DI's were constantly all over them, enforcing the standards and generating instant willing obedience to orders. After what seemed like two weeks, but was really only five days, they were informed that it was Friday night. They were permitted several hours to take showers and generally clean up. This was a welcome relief to the tired girls and young women, so used to the PT showers and the generally hurried life of a Marine recruit.
Saturday was coming and Duran and Brown whispered with some of the other young girls what that meant. They had heard rumors from the older girls about them getting fucked by the male DI's and Marines who had completed the Crucible. They did not realize it, but this was another of congresses "Good Idea's". Congress had gone through the Uniform Code of Military Justice and removed the sections about adultry and drastically altered the ones about fraternization. As long as you weren't in the same chain of command, consensual sex was totally decriminilized. Much like other things at boot camp, there were things that a Marine could not be required to do that recruits were. All the girls had to have sex with whatever Marine wanted them, male as well as female as long as it wasn't their Drill Instructor, they were fair game.
This was explained to them that night by the SDI, and she made sure the girls understood that refusal could only be made on medical grounds. The girls had all recieved a penicillin shot and had been tested for diseases when they entered, and men who wanted to participate were likewise tested and not permitted to join if they were sick, so the girls could not refuse on that basis. Basically they were going to get fucked, so they'd better get used to the idea. The next morning at reveille, as the girls woke up and stood on line, the Drill Instructors came out and detailed a working party to get supplies from the truck outside. Unused to working parties before morning hygine, the surprised girls knew better than to complain and quickley turned to. Bringing the boxes inside and opening them up revieled soaps, shampoo, lotions, and a wide variety of other beauty products. The girls were given three hours to prepare, and they took advantage of it. The older girls helping the younger ones with makeup, they dolled themselves up nervously. The older girls had been quite aware of this part of boot camp when joining, and their air of excitement was helpful in getting the younger ones, most of whom had only heard rumors, to prepare.
At 0830 the girls were back online for inspection.
The DI's had been on hand as the girls prepared and had made many on the spot corrections, so inspection went well.
At 0900 they were marched out to a new barracks near their old one and filed into the lobby. They noticed the Marines of the other platoon in Oscar Company, as well as both platoons from Papa Company were also present. They heard cadance outside as the 6 platoons of new Marines from Delta Company marched up. Officially it was called something very beaurocratic, and boring but the Marines called it the 'Warriors Fuck.' In addition to the recruits, there were a number of other Female Marines who had gathered to participate. These were ones that love to fuck that young cock fresh out of boot camp.
The Marines were given the command 'fall out' and they broke ranks, respectfully waiting to let their DI's have the first choice.

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"No! Wait! Ple" the small girl, over 18 but looking hardly 15, pleaded and gasped, "whaah. Please pleassse no don't..." she was sobbing.

There was nothing left to lose. No food or water. It was all filled with disease, iron, and lead. So be it.

We cut her clothes away. My cohorts took great pleasure, except the ones already dead inside.

Piece by piece, cloth fell and skin was bared.
The goosebumps that rose on her skin were more than obvious.

"Have you ever been in a fight? Did you your parents ever hit you?" I asked her, as I was always an inquisitive one.

She shvered and sobbed "wahuhhh noooo. Please I don't l... I can't pl pl pleaaase waah."


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Dana watched, transfixed as her sister Holly was snuffed by her brother. She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw her sister cumming as she died. She definately came watching it, climaxing when Virgil slit Holly's throat. Dana was definately aroused by the thought of being snuffed, but she knew she had to have children first. She had been doing her best, fucking whenever she got the chance. She had not gotten pregnant yet. She had just had her most recent period a week ago. It had started to come regularly, so she was hopeful she could have her first baby soon.
That night Dana crept into Virgil's room, sliently the naked elevin year old slipped under the covers with him and began to stroke his cock. Virgil woke up from a half sleep to find his young sister playing with his cock. He smiled and pulled her up on top of him. Leaning her head down she began to kiss her brother, an act which he wholeheartedly reciprocated. As the two siblings kissed his cock rose to full hardness. He reached down and moved it to the entrance to his sister's pussy, and she began to push back on it. They kept on kissing as she slid completely back on Virgils hard shaft, and he rolled her over.
As he began to slowly thrust in and out she looked up at him and said, "I love you Virgil."
He smiled back, "I love you too, sis."
She felt a shiver run down her back at the mention of them being related. She began to think how sexy it would be to have her brothers baby, and how sexy it was to have his bare penis inside her.
The girl was young, her hips had only just begun to widen, and her titties were tiny. But that was ok with Virgil, he loved to fuck young girls, their pussies were so tight that he couldn't help but cum in them.
"You're so sexy Dana."
All of a sudden Virgil started to really force his cock deep with sharp strokes, she felt her brothers cock twitch and giggled a little as she knew that he was cumming inside her.
Her sated brother rolled off of her and onto his back, and she curled up next to him, throwing one leg over his and pressing her pussy against his thigh. As the two lovers drifted off to sleep she thought about how much she loved her brother.
The next morning at breakfast she came down in one of his tank tops and boxers. Her father noticed and smiled approvingly. He was glad she was taking care of her brother.
"Virgil, now that you've started fucking Dana, are you going to get her on birth control."
"No dad, I love feeling bare fertile pussy on my cock. It just feels so good to knock up a little slut."
Dana blushed since she knew they were discussing her. Virgil reached over and pulled her to him, sitting her on his lap. Reaching up he turned her head to him and kissed her. She felt like a toy as her brother manhandled her, but she liked the feeling. He reached up to feel her slightly budding chest and the young girl leaned back into him.

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