Synopsis: Dima has feelings for the village heart-throb, but with one complication: this person has been branded a traitor. Will there be justice? SHORT STORY - COMPLETE



Introduction: Hi, this is my first story ever on this forum. I hope you enjoy--honest feedback is appreciated. Contents: M/M, violence, sexual torture. Don't want to give too much away, so I'll leave it at that.



Misha the Traitor



Mikhail was a gorgeous young man. I thought so. Hell, the whole village did. It was unusual given the ravages of civil war that our region had experienced. The tentative peace, but lack of aid from neighboring countries meant that nearly all of us were impoverished and starving. We were alone. However, as structured as life can be here, I’d like to think the system our elders have established is a just one.

Comment too long, view post No.11697 to see the full comment.

Story by MackieMesser:



I picked her for her beauty, this sweet looking little child, this 12 years old girl. Life was ahead of her and I was about to rip it apart for my own personal sexual pleasure. The most arousing thing that I could think of in my life, is using a young female preteen child in order to fulfill the raging lust fantasy of a grown man for murder and rape. That's what I am, a grown man lurking for a sweet little girl to undo.



She laid there in my lair, a scheduled little shack in the middle of nowhere. Capturing her wasn't an easy task, but here she was, at my mercy. Mercy? I wouldn't have any for her. I was resigned to consider her as meat for my own enjoyment. All her feels and all of her dreams would soon vanish with her bloody death. I was going to murder her, I was going to rip everything out of her.



She was a 4 foot 7 brunette with brown eyes, and pale rosy skin. I could read the fear into her eyes. She was looking with her petrified, watery eyes at the face of her antichrist, the man who would ruin and degradate her. Her rosy skin was arousing me, I could literally see the blood that I was going to spill, her translucent skin was showing me her veins that I was about to tear into. She was tied and gagged on a bed; the light was very bright, and a snowstorm raged outside. Her chest was moving in rhythm from up and down, her tiny budding breasts being obvious to my sight. Her breasts were perfectly shaped, with pink little girl's nipple on top.

Comment too long, view post No.11687 to see the full comment.

My real life story (from an alternative universe)



Synopsis

Ch1

Hi There

I am Jeremy, 36 & this is my true story that occurred in an alternate universe.

I 1st met Alison when she way 19 in the noughties at a Goth/Fetish club in Sydney. We were both uni students, I was studying computer science & she was an arts French history major on a student visa from the USA.

Comment too long, view post No.11681 to see the full comment.

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.

Comment too long, view post No.10949 to see the full comment.

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.

Comment too long, view post No.10179 to see the full comment.

Church of the Fallen Angel



by Regis







BACK STORY

Comment too long, view post No.11620 to see the full comment.

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.

Comment too long, view post No.11618 to see the full comment.

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?


Comment too long, view post No.10588 to see the full comment.

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.

Comment too long, view post No.10961 to see the full comment.

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.

Comment too long, view post No.11582 to see the full comment.

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?"

Comment too long, view post No.11552 to see the full comment.

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.'"

"I'm sorry. Just kill me and be done with it, please. If you let me go, I'll make it worth your while. I'll retire, and you can have anything." Killing her was her first suggestion. This meant that she knew where she was and who she was dealing with. At least the likelihood was enough to scare her into preferring death.

Comment too long, view post No.9471 to see the full comment.

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.

Comment too long, view post No.11514 to see the full comment.

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.

Comment too long, view post No.11022 to see the full comment.

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.