I came downstairs to find you and Alisa buried between each other’s legs, writhing and moaning, licking and sucking each other’s pussies. You both started to cum at the same time, your bodies curled up tight and your pussies pulsing. You closed your legs around her head and pressed your cunt into her face, and she yours, moaning “oh god, oh yes baby, just like that, oh fuck baby, I’m cumming!”

I walked over, took out my cock and started to piss on both of you. You both looked up and immediately said “sorry Daddy, we couldn’t help ourselves, we’re just such sluts.” I kicked you in the stomach and her in between the legs, my boot striking her clit. As you groaned in pain, I slid an anal hook in your each of your asses, then positioned you back-to-back and bound you together, attached a rope through the anal hooks and tied it off to a chain hanging from the ceiling. I turned on the wench and hoisted you in the air.

I grabbed a whip and beat you, striking each of you in turn, her howls cutting through you each time I struck her, knowing your turn was next. I beat your thighs, bellies and tits, red lines of blood rapidly appearing over your bodies. You looked down at me, your bodies on fire, every movement driving the anal hooks deeper in your tender ass.

I finally put the whip down and said “so, you greedy little whores want to cum, do you?” I grabbed two vibrators, taping them to each of your thighs, pressed against your pussies, then turned them on to medium intensity. You smiled and said “thank you Daddy” as you gently rode the wave up closer and closer to the edge, moaning with pleasure, “mmm, yes, that feels so good, oh god yes, mmm … oh fuck, I’m cumming!” Alisa wasn’t far behind, her moans mixing with yours in a lewd harmony. But your pleasure was short lived as the vibrator remained pressed into your sensitive clit and you soon started to shake and tense again as the next wave built up before the first had ended. You were starting to sweat, your body becoming hot as you were overstimulated, cumming over and over until your clit was numb. Alisa started to beg first “we’re sorry Daddy, please turn it off … oh fuck … please Daddy, we’ll be good … oh my god …”

You both started to sob as you saw me walk out of the room.

I returned in an hour, unplugged the vibrators and cut you down, saying “did you greedy girls get to come enough? I can put you back up if you’d like.” You fell to the floor, and I leaned down, untied you and roughly yanked the anal hooks out. You both writhed in pain, your hands between your legs, saying over and over “sorry Daddy, sorry Daddy.” I dragged you both to your knees side-by-side, took my cock out and said “show Daddy how sorry you are.” You took turns fucking your own throats with my dick, each pushing the other’s head to get my cock deep down the other’s throat, making her drool, choke and gag just like I would. I had my hands up behind my head as you worshipped my cock until I pulled out and announced “I’m ready, stroke me off and eat my cum.” You took my cock in your hand, moving up, down and around the shaft and Alisa opened her mouth. You directed the first thick rope of cum down her throat, taking the next down yours, trading off until I was done. You took my cock in your mouth and sucked me dry, then kissed Alisa deeply, sucking my cum out of each other’s mouths until you had swallowed it all. I backhanded each of you, knocking you back down to the floor, saying ,calmly “good girls, now come on upstairs and get cleaned up, we’re going to the farm.”

You climbed in the shower with Alisa. The warm water felt good running over your sore bodies as you gently washed each other. You kissed tenderly, whispering and giggling “Daddy said we were good girls!” Somewhere deep inside you had the fleeting thought “he pissed on us, hung us up from the ceiling, whipped the fuck out of us and humiliated us, why am I thanking him and so happy he demeaned me?”

Her soft body felt good pressed gently into yours as you kissed her more passionately, your hand moving between her legs and hers between yours. You whispered “be quiet so Daddy doesn’t hear.”

(If you have wishes let me know them)

I came back down after about 20 minutes. You had your pussy in Alisa’s face, flogging her back, screaming “that’s it you pathetic carpet munching whore, eat my sloppy pussy, fuck yes, suck my clit, oh fuck, I’m gonna soak your face, fuckkkk!” The fuck machine was still moving the dildo in and out of her red, swollen pussy, the black dildo white with her cream. She was sobbing and moaning at the same time, her mind starting to break, but still fighting and hanging on to the slim hope she’ll somehow get out of this, that the abuse will stop. But deep down she knows it’s just starting.

I turn the machine off, grab a leather strap and beat your ass hard, “who the fuck told you that you could cum, whore?” But you saw the smile in my eyes, knowing I didn’t really care if you used Alisa as your cunt lapping slut, I just enjoyed beating you. You looked down “sorry for being a such a greedy whore,” smiling and thinking about what else you might do to feel the strap on your ass. I beat Alisa’s thighs, ass and back, then untied her from the oaken beam and pushed her onto the floor.

I bound her wrists and dragged her across the rough concrete floor by her hair, scrapping her tits and knees. I attached a hook to her wrists and hoisted her up until she was standing on her toes, then grabbed the flogger and beat her tits, belly and thighs until she was bleeding from a thousand tiny cuts from the falls of the flogger. I handed the flogger to you and told you to beat her ass and back, while I stood in front of her, kissed her neck and lips, gently sliding two fingers in her pussy and whispered “are you enjoying yourself so far, rape meat? My friends will be here in just a few minutes. I’m sure she’s told you all about them.”

I continued to gently stroke her with my fingers, my thumb moving over her clit in small circles, my mouth moving down to suck and lick her nipples. You continued to flog her backside red to match her front. She suddenly stopped crying and howling in pain as her mind shut down and her inner whore took over, just as yours had, her eyes glazing over with a lustful smile “mmm, that feels so good Daddy, I can’t wait to feel your friend’s cocks abuse my slutty holes,” and her body tensing as she started to cum hard on my hand. She looked like her body had gone through a shredder, blood dripping down from the hundreds of cuts from the flogger covering her torso and legs.

I attached a bar clamp on her tits, tightening the bolts connecting the upper and lower plates until her tits were flat, her nipples protruding from between the shiny metal plates. She howled in pain “oh fuck Sir, that really hurts, thank you for abusing my tits Sir,” then started to hump the air, moving her hips like she was getting fucked by an imaginary lover as she eagerly awaited the arrival of the men to rape her. Her eyes lit up when she saw them walking down the stairs, laughing loudly and saying “where’s the sexy bit of rape meat you told us about? Alisa, right? Nah, it’s ignorant fucking cum rag.” I cut the rope holding her up. She started to fall to the floor when two guys caught her, their rough stubble grating against the soft skin of her face and the strong smell of whisky on their breath wafting through her nose straight to her pussy. These weren’t the soft college boys she was used to. These were rough, misogynistic men that were going to use her as their cock sleeve and cum dump … and punching bag.

She had an uncontrollable urge to try to fight them off, not to get away, but to be manhandled, to be slapped, punched and tossed around like a rag doll. She spit in one man’s face and tried to pull away “get your fucking hands off of me, asshole.” She was rewarded with a backhand across the face and a punch in the stomach as four men grabbed her, pulling both arms behind her back and lifting her in the air. The held her up, her legs spread wide, and a man shoved his cock deep in her cunt. He thrust in fast, hard and deep while the men holding her pushed he against him to meet his thrusts. They slapped her face and tits as he mercilessly pounded her already sore pussy, telling her what a worthless rape slut she was, insisting it was just what cock teasing whores like her deserved, to be used as a cum dump for kings.

I moved behind her, the guys moving to make room for me, and forced my cock in her ass. I pushed in deep, pulled out, then forced my cock in deep again. I kept penetrating her ass over and over, and once her gape was large enough, put my fingers in her hole, opened it wider and shoved my cock back in, leaving my fingers there as I ass fucked her fast and hard, then filled her with cum. As my cock grew soft, I filled her ass with piss, then pulled out, my cum and piss gushing from her ass into the floor. You were right behind me, a black 12-inch strap on sticking out from your loins. You grabbed her hips and started to rape her ass deep and hard, her belly bulging as you pushed the 12-inch dildo deep in her guts.

The guy using her pussy grunted, pulled out and shot his jizz over her tits and belly, his cum burning the cuts which criss crossed her body. She felt like she had been stung by a hundred jelly fish, the pain unbearable. Her whole body tensed as the pain peaked and started to wane, calling out “fuck, fuck, fuck” over and over. You pulled out when he did and they carried her over to a mattress on the floor, tossing her down before descending on her like ravenous wolves. They twisted her arm behind her back, slapped and punched her, spanked her nipples, before one guy finally pulled her on top of him, impaling her on his big cock. You got on your knees and shoved your “cock” back in her ass, while another guy shoved his dick down her throat. You fucked her ass until the man fucking her throat pulled out and stroked his dick until he shot his load in her open mouth and on her face. You pulled out of her ass and took his place, grabbing her by the hair, shoving your “cock” in her mouth, slapping her face and sneering “lick your ass off my cock, you nasty fucking cunt, you fucking disgusting me, you worthless cock whore,” she looked up at you, her eyes begging for more degradation as she started to cum.

Another man kneeled behind her and forced his dick in her ass next to the one that was already there. She grimaced around the dildo as she got used to having her tender hole stretched so wide, then started to moan and move her ass while they reamed her dirty hole. You pulled out, slapped her hard, her drool flying from her face, looking at the last man “come fuck this stupid whore’s mouth. Gag the bitch until she passes out. Fucking dumb cunt.” All three men brutally fucked her holes at the same time, her pussy and asshole now red and swollen, looking like well beaten beef. As the cocks in her ass and pussy throbbed and filled her holes with more cum, the man fucking her throat pushed in deep and held his cock there, pinching her nose shut until she passed out. He pulled out and shot his load over her face and hair. Her broken body lying limp on the mattress, her wrecked holes leaking cum. But somewhere deep in her mind, her inner whore was smiling “fuck yes, that’s just what I needed.”

They guys left and I put my hand around your throat, leading you over to the mattress, squeezing hard until you passed out next to her.

If you have ideers please comment them

Jack was proving herself to be a pain to hold. So far in the tournament, she has tried to escape the bars ten times, and has taken eight of the guards in all her attempts. She has been absurdly violent, crushing their windpipes or popping them into tiny little pieces. The only thing that is currently taming her was giving her the left over corpse of Miranda to play with, Jack fucking the throat stump ruthlessly.

As she came inside the esophagus of her hated Cheerleader, she could feel the cell begin to move. Nervous guardswomen pushed her towards the gate, passing by numerous empty cells and a others that contained Shepard, Tali, EDI, Kasumi, and Samara. Jack hoped she could one up them all with a spectacle. Guess it was only a matter of time as her gate started to open, the muffled sound of the announcers describing her feats of strength.

When she was opened up to the arena, it was daylight. The blaring light distorted her vision for a minute, her eyes trying to adjust from near darkness to this. When she could make out the details, she noticed that she was standing on the edge of a roof. She turned around to her gate, but only met the sky around her. Instinctively, she looked down, and kinda wished she hadn't. Quickly, she jumped backwards, firmly planting her feet on the platform of the skyscraper. She hunched over and closed her eyes, her elevation sending tremors down her body. She only wore her jacket, but she was nearly sweating from the view.

But banshee calmed down, the voice of Audrey rang out over the speakers, “And, in the second gate, coming from a galaxy far far away, we welcome a Togruta I've gotten to know quite personally in my travels. She requires no introduction, so without further ado, get ready to be down on your knees for the chance to worship her: Ahsoka Tano!”

Jack heard the gate open behind her, and she did her best to recover. Don't think about the fall, think about who you're going to send down it. She raised her fists as she turned, only to get that sense of dread back when her eyes laid on her opponent.

She had heard and seen a few Ahsokas before, always considered secondhand jokes to people from her universe. She's even seen a few of her decapitated heads being passed around by the guards, stating that there was no mouth better. But this girl, no… woman in front of her, was not that disposable fuckdoll. She was entirely different than the bright orange bitch she researched. For one was her armor. It was the designs that her girlfriend Bo provided her during the siege, but the color scheme was off. The blue was replaced with drake crimson, and the gray outline was instead golden. Her skirt was removed however, allowing her throbbing erection to stand tall. Along the seams of her outfit were glowing crystals embedded into the fabric, a low hum emitting from them. 

Ahsoka’s skin was also different. Gnarly cracks existed in her once pristine flesh. Her old markings were worn and faded, with only the black mark of the sith taking over the center of her forehead. Her lekku were in a similar, broken way, the horns peaking like devil horns. Her headdress had different symbols carved into it, signaling her life. First, a togruta tribe symbol, then the Jedi Order, then the Republic Crest, then the Mandalorian Mythosaur, Fulcrum, the Rebellion, then the Empire, and lastly, the Sith. Her eyes were closed as she strutted forward, but Jack could see the heavy shadow and eyeliner that popped them out.

Her presence was intimidating enough, with how she strode towards her starting position with grace. So much confidence was in her every movement, the quick yet fluid motions to remove her sabers from their hilts something that Jack almost didn’t catch. And that cock… even standing over here, Jack felt jealous of its size, and scare about what it would do to her slim body. When she did stop, she did so looking right at Jack, her eyes still concealed by her eyelids, but a show of clear awareness of the area around her. She waited, and shivered when Ahsoka’s eyes did open to reveal that they were not the innocent blue eyes of a gray jedi, but the yellow and red craze of a sith. At the same time she opened her eyes, her lightsabers sparked to life, glowing their deep red across her face.

Okay, Jack thought as she wavered in her stance, I might be fucked. Her expectations for an orange cocksleeve were severely miscalculated, thinking this would be an easy fight. She had an incredibly strong feeling that Ahsoka’s appearance wasn't just for show, and was her displaying her power, projecting it. She had to have earned it, and she looks ready to prove it. She could probably sense how nervous Jack was about it too, the possibility of not even getting a fair fight rushing into her mind. But this was what she was getting, so she had to deal with it.

She might have lost a bit of confidence, but it wasn’t going to deter her. Jack had to win this. There had to be a way. While the time ticked closer to the start, she tried to scout the surroundings for possible advantages. However, there were just a few crates and an empty beer can, good to slow down a target, but hardly a challenge for the dark aura she was facing. So, she really just had her biotics, and for once, she prayed to any deity that there was something she could do to live through this.

Just before the bell rang, she calmed herself, and let her eyes glow their majestic purple, the dark matter surging through her veins. She also took out the only thing she held in her jacket, an inhaler with just one dose of Red Sand left. She pumped into her mouth, and let the drug run its course, hoping it could turn the tide. She could hear the amused chuckle from her enemy, Ahsoka clearly not concerned by the apparent boost Jack just shot into her system.

“Hello little girl,” Ahsoka finally spoke just before the bell, glimmering in front of Jack with a smirk plastered across her face. She twirled her blades around her fingers gracefully, giving her opponent and the crowd quite she show as the timer went to zero, managing to get out, “You’ll be fun to break,” before the starting sound echoed, and Jack was quick to strike.

She launched a fury of throws towards the togruta, followed by a heavy shockwave. While she scurried away to another angle, she got to watch as Ahsoka went right into action, ducking and weaving through each orb that threatened to hit her. She went under the first throw, around the second, and blocked the third by slashing it, and finally jumping over the rampaging shockwave to land on her feet. And she made it seem so easy. The throws were able to lock on slightly, and arced around in an attempt to redeem themselves, but dissipated before even completing a 180.

Not off to a good start. With her abilities countered, Jack had to think of something as the cheerful futa slowly marched towards her. With a laugh, Ahsoka stopped just short, and raised one of her hands, making a gesture with her four fingers, “Come on, I need the practice. Give me the best you got, ponytail.”

Even if Jack was more than anxious to be fighting her, hearing her opponent sum her entire personality up to her hair was rage inducing. A fire awoke, and she tossed the strongest flares and warps she could. And instead of a sign of concern, Ahsoka’s gaze was still at her, not even the orbs tossed her way, with a look of, Easy.

Like a tightrope dancer, she was impeccable. Never letting her gaze slip from Jack as she evaded the unstable balls of energy, spinning right through the pair of flares before sliding underneath one of the warps. The other two, she was able to squeeze in between and let pass her, all the attacks attempting to circle back but fizzling out just as the throws. To give Jack even more doubts that her fight had no effect, Ahsoka giggled like a schoolgirl, “Wow, ponytail. Thought you’d be a challenge,” she continued to close the distance between her and the biotic, Jack doing her best to flee. She was stopped by one of the crates she saw earlier crashing against her back, sending her sprawling to the ground, Ahsoka’s hand puppeting the pieces, “I guess I just live to be disappointed.”

A drone came down to aid Jack, but before it could reach, Ahsoka had already grabbed it with the force. Bringing it towards her, she crushed it until it released what it was holding, a small red and white ball. She recognized this from her research. Any monster could be inside this thing, any monster that would be under the command of the wielder. Not thinking she’ll need it now, she just stashed it away, then went back to focusing on Jack.

With her opponent distracted by the ball, Jack attempted to charge. She surged towards the sith mustering all the biotic energy she could, only for Ahsoka to step to the side a fraction of a second before Jack passed. They met eyes for that split second Jack was still running, and she saw a glint in Ahsoka’s eyes again as she quickly raised to fingers, and pointed them at her in a speedy motion. 

She had raised a few of the broken pieces from the crate up, and while Jack was in her charge, she could not divert from her path. Meaning, she could not stop the wooden stakes from hitting her until it was too late. They pierced through her back in multiple places, impaling her liver as they dug into her. The left splinters wherever they laid, and the worst was yet to come. When she turned around, burning with pain, she did not expect to see orange knuckles coming her way, and could not react in time.

They slammed against her nose, flatting it with little difficulty. She had power backing her fist, using the energy the force was giving her to send Jack fly several feet back. She was tossed past the ledge, and just when she thought she would fall, she felt something grab a hold, suspending her in the air. Her eyes went immediately to Ahsoka, who was grinning while she safely brought the crazy highschool teacher back to the roof.

“Did you think I wouldn’t savor this reward, ponytail?” Ahsoka glowered, looking down on her prone opponent. She reactivated her saber with a crack, seeing the fear coarse through the smaller futa’s eyes, “I have needs too, you know.”

“You bitch!” Jack roared back to life, the implication crystal clear. She rose up with a charged hand, prepared to catch Ahsoka offguard. But struggling was just what the Togruta was waiting for, and the moment she saw the first, she dropped her blade. Right onto Jack’s cock. It cleaved her member right off, leaving a well cooked stump in it’s place. The pain was blinding to Jack, her shame rising just like the scream that tore through her lungs and made the onlooking crowd rejoice. And it opened her up for another attack.

Jack’s arm was still outstretched, no longer glowing, but making it seem like an offering. On that Ahsoka took with a single swipe of her other blade. She called on the force to bring the one she dropped back into her palm, it rising the same time Jack’s limp hand cluttered to the ground. She was in a thrill at how the poor castrated girl below her reacted to the dismemberment, falling to the floor in agonizing pain.

“Fuck,” She gasped, the sensations unbearable. Her back was still on fire from the crate shards that stuck out, and now her hand and cock were missing. From her body at least. She saw them on the floor, laying next to each other at Ahsoka’s feet. Ahsoka, her opponent. Who had the ability for a killing blow. All forms of control Jack thought she had were tossed out the window, her eyes in pure panic as she rose up to her knees, reaching out with her other hand, and staring into those evil eyes. She then did something she never thought she would do. She begged, “Wai-!”

But she didn’t get far as a slash of red swooped through. The red was Ahsoka’s blade, and the second it passed, and Jack couldn’t feel the pain of her removed cock and hand, as it was replaced with a more focused one at her neck. Then a brief fall, before something grabbed her ponytail. Rough nails dug into her head as she was forced to turn around, watching her corpse slump backwards. She gave no significant reactions, which disappointed Ahsoka and the fans. To make up for it, Ahsoka simply put her boot in the center of the corpse, and gave it the final push. 

Both her and Jack watched as the convict’s body went down 12 stories to the bottom, getting smaller and smaller to them before it exploded onto the ground. All they could see was a red splat, but on cameras below, the crowd could see the impact in multiple angles, Jack’s corpse flattening and shards of her bones sticking out of her distorted limbs. Blood pooled from every orfice, and since she landed on her back, those spike bursted through to the otherside, protruding out of the deflated, tattoo covered body.

And so, Jack saw her own death with her very eyes. Beheaded and dropped off a ledge, the feelings of defeated washed over her like a baptism, damning her soul instead of saving it. She was swinging lightly by the grip on her hair, now realizing why Ahsoka nicknamed her off it. It was a handle. She knew what was about to happen, and at this point, all she could do was accept her stretched out throat as the orange cock made it’s way out her mouth.

With her energy not wasted on confusion and stress, she ended up living much longer. And Ahsoka could sense that as she probed her ten inch masterpiece through Jack’s skull. She smiled to the cameras watching her, letting them get the full view of her shaft before she started to hammer away at the back of Jack’s throat. Knowing the girl could hear her, she made it known, “Not the worst head I’ve tried. At least yours is intact, unlike Chuchi’s~!”

Jack was repulsed by the tip of the sith’s cock ripping through her, but she could do little about it. Try as she might, there was some magical force preventing her teeth from crushing down on that tip, forbidding her from at least doing something to her opponent before she died. Best she could do was use her tongue, and all it did was stimulate, twirling around the large shaft harshly.

"And your winner, Ahsoka Tano!" Audrey cried out over the speakers as Jack’s eyes wavered, witnessing the cheers to her demise.

Author's Note - I would appreciate any feedback. Also still looking for prompts, so feel free to leave any all that are scratching your mind.

It was a nice day for a run, cool and sunny, with no wind. You had your ear buds in and were in such a good zone, your stride smooth and your breathing even. You were so focused you didn’t even see me when I jumped in front of you, grabbed you by the throat, wrapped my other arm around you and dragged you into my garage. You started to scream as the door went down, but I squeezed your throat tighter, muffling your cries. You grabbed impotently at my arm, trying to tear it away so you could breathe, your world growing dark as you passed out and fell to the cold concrete floor.

You came to naked and chained to a padded table, your head hanging off one end, your legs spread wide and hanging off the other, held open by a spreader bar cuffed to your ankles. You struggled against the chains and lifted your head to look around. You saw you were alone in a dimly lit basement and began to cry out for help, then heard my footsteps. I came over and backhanded you, your lip splitting open, “shut the fuck up, you ignorant cunt!” You looked at me, in pain but still angry, spitting at me and sneering “let me go you evil fucking bastard,” still fighting and struggling to break free. I punched you in the stomach, “I fucking told you to be quiet, rape meat,” then pushed my hand down your throat. You started to sob and when I finally pulled my hand out, you coughed and began to plead for your release “please don’t hurt me. Just rape me and let me go, please, you don’t have to hurt me, I’ll be good, please, please …” sobbing uncontrollably.

I smiled and ran my hand down from your neck, over your tits and on to your pussy. I slid two fingers inside you, curled up to stroke the sensitive spot just inside, my thumb pressed lightly on your clit. “So you’re going to be a good rape toy for Daddy now, princess?” You shook your head, “yes, I’ll be good, just don’t hurt me, please.” Your eyes were filled with tears, your body shaking with fear.

I continued stroking you, commenting “mmm, what a nice tight pink pussy you have, it’s going to feel so good gripping my cock. I’m going to fuck you so hard and fill you with my thick hot cum. I’ll fucking wreck this tender little cunt. You want it, don’t you slut? You dirty cock teasing whores always want to be used long and hard, you want to feel like a filthy fucking cock sleeve, just holes, just a dirty cum dumpster.” I became more and more excited as I degraded you, rubbing my cock through my pants and roughly finger banging you. You steeled yourself against my abuse, hoping it would be over soon, moaning in discomfort “yes Daddy, rape my greedy pussy so hard I can’t walk,” trying to spur me into action so I’d just fuck you and let you go.

I moved between your legs, undid my pants and let them fall to the floor, then forced my cock inside you. I moved my hands up your thighs to your tits, groping you and tugging on your nipples as I fucked you slow and deep, gyrating my hips and grinding into you. I looked into your eyes as I raped you “you like that, don’t you whore? You like Daddy’s thick cock in your tight young pussy. Beg for it slut, beg for me to rape you hard, you know that’s what you want.” You held my gaze “yes Daddy, give that big cock, use my pussy, fuck me hard and fill me with your cream. Please Daddy, I need it.” Your act was convincing, and I pounded into you, quickly grunting and cumming inside you, “oh fuck, here it comes baby, fucking milk my cock, take my cum you dirty whore … fuck, I’m cummming!”

You smiled and looked at me, “fuck, you raped me so good Daddy, can you unchain me now so I can lay next to you now?” You were hoping with my lust sated, I’d be kinder, unbind you and let you go. I groped your tits and fingered your cum filled pussy “oh, we’re not done yet, rape meat, I know a filthy fucking cock whore like you needs to be used much harder, don’t you? You’re just so fucking sexy, you made me cum too fast, but I won’t let you down.” I walked over to a cabinet and returned with a 12-inch dildo and shoved it in your pussy. You howled as it battered your cervix, pushing it hard against your womb, but still trying to placate me “oh fuck Daddy, go easy, let me get used to it.”

I pushed the dildo in as far as it would go, pulled it out and slammed it back in, then fucked you with it, moving in and out of your cunt like a piston. Your cervix was on fire, and you looked down and saw that the dildo was covered in blood. You balled your hands into fists and grimaced, trying hard not to cry out in pain. As I looked up, my eyes filled with insane lust, you realized I wasn’t going to stop and cried out “holy fuck, you’re going to destroy my pussy, you have to stop, please you’re hurting me!” I almost cackled “oh yeah, that’s how you like it, isn’t it whore? Daddy’s gonna fucking wreck your cunt.”

I yanked the dildo out and you gulped in air, thinking maybe I was being merciful, but I quickly shoved my hand inside you and punch fucked you, my fist turning your swollen cervix to mush as I slammed it deep into your womb. You felt my finger slide inside it and I yanked my hand out hard, prolapsing you, your cervix protruding from your cunt like a bright red rose. “Oh we need to get that back inside you, don’t we? How else are you going to get my cum in your fertile womb?” I punched it back in with an old wooden baseball bat and brutally fucked you with it, the splinters ripping into the tender flesh of your pussy.

I suddenly stopped, took the bloody bat from your pussy, reached in and yanked your cervix back out, proud of myself as I said “how dumb of me, I’ll just shoot my cum right in,” then wrapped my hand around your prolapsed cervix and forced my cock inside so it encased my dick like a sheath. I gripped it tight as I used it to jack off, grunting as my cock throbbed and I shot my cum directly into your womb, cackling “god damn, why have I never thought of that before? You’re definitely getting a rape baby now, rape meat. I bet you’re so happy!”

You had passed out from pain about the time I shoved the bat inside you, but I hadn’t noticed, intent on getting my cum inside you. I stepped back then sat on a chair facing you, watching the blood gush from between your legs. I finally noticed you were out and said aloud “fuck yes, she came so hard she passed out, such a dirty cock whore, loving being fucked so hard she bleeds. I’ll give it to her even harder next time.”

You came to, howling in pain, writhing and sweating, unable to make a coherent sentence “please … hurt so much … oh god … please … no more.” I put a ball gag in your mouth, buckling the strap around your head, “this round is going to be the best yet, rape toy, you’ll be screaming so fucking loud.” Your eyes begged me to stop, your head shaking “No!, No!, No!” I responded “No, baby, Daddy won’t ever stop, I know what you need, don’t I?”

I said “let me get the big vibrator for you, rape whore.” I turned and walked over to the cabinet. Your eyes widened, you screamed around the gag and your whole body tensed as I came toward you with a drill, fitted with a bladed paint mixer. I pressed the trigger and slid it inside your pussy, the blades shredding the inside of your pussy, ripping through your womb and into your intestines, tearing through your abdomen. You maintained consciousness long enough to see the blood gushing from between your legs and spurting out through the jagged wound in your belly.

I sat in the chair, a satisfied smile on my face as I looked over your corpse, congealed blood still dripping from what had been your pussy. I sipped a cold beer, my cock throbbing as I said, “Yeah, I fucking destroyed that pussy.”

You were bored, which is seldom a good thing, when the ad in the free city paper caught your eye “Your Darkest Fantasy Fulfilled,” with a picture of a woman hanging by chains in the middle of a boxing ring, a metal collar around her neck, metal cuffs on her wrists and ankles and a large anal hook protruding from her ass cheeks. She was battered and bruised, a large muscular man in boxing gloves and trunks standing in front of her, fists poised to deliver an uppercut to her cunt.

Without giving it a thought, you pressed the numbers in on your phone. The phone rang, but no one answered. Your phone dinged with a message sent from the number you had called, providing an address, but no other text.

You arrived at the address, a seemingly abandoned industrial building with no signs. You should have turned around, got in your car and drove away, but the more mysterious this got, the more curious you became. You turned the handle on the heavy gray metal door and walked in.

You stared in amazement at the screens showing men and women in vastly different scenes, vanilla sex, gang bangs, women being whipped, men being pegged, pinks, blacks, blues, every kink and color you could imagine. I came behind you, my hand on your shoulder, and you turned. My steel gray eyes seemingly looked inside you, my warm smile and cool speech clearly hiding a depth of understanding and depravity that froze you for a second.

You started to speak, but I broke in. “You’re here to experience your darkest fantasy, just like the people on these screens here. I know what that is, so there’s no need to tell me. Simply say yes and we’ll start. Rest assured, your mind will be fucked” You stuttered “yes, but how much does it cost?” I slapped your face hard, snapping your head back. “Always refer to me as Sir, yes Sir, no Sir, thank you Sir, do you understand?” You meekly replied “yes Sir,” your hand rubbing the stinging red hand print on your face. “Good. Our service is free. We’ll live stream your experience to clubs around the world to cover our costs. Let’s get you started.”

Two men dressed in dark green jump suits came over and guided you down a hallway to a well lit room with a waist high stainless steel table in the middle, video screens on the walls, and large cabinets randomly placed. They undressed you and laid you on the table, but to your surprise, did not tie, chain or clamp you down. You laid there sweating on the cold steel table, wondering what was going to happen to you. But you already knew, your breathing shallow with fear and your pussy tingling at the thought.

After a few minutes, a man came in dressed in a leather apron and gloves, carrying a smoking oaken box. He sat the box beside you, pulled out a red hot brand and pressed it into your flesh barely above your pussy. You cried out in pain, the smell of burning flesh and hair stinging your nose. You sat up and looked down at your belly, your skin still smoking, and read the word “WHORE” in two inch block letters.

I walked in, moving around you, and calmly asked you whether you were OK. You screamed “what the fuck do you think Sir?” I smiled, pressed my hand into the brand and said “good, let’s keep going.” I announced to no one, “she’s going to need more holes.” You weren’t puzzled by my words for long. Four large men came in, each holding an arm or leg down, while another began to open two holes on each side of your abdomen with a heated one inch diameter metal rod. You cried out again, trying impotently to escape their grasp as your new holes were created. The men dispatched their work quickly and silently, then left. You lay there crying and sweating, the pain unimaginable. You tried to lift up, but couldn’t, every twitch of your muscles making you cry out in agony.

You were just about to cry out, beg for mercy, beg to be let go, when I walked in. “I expect you’re about to say you’ve had enough, to ask for this to end. But I know you won’t, this is exactly what you want, isn’t it?” Your mind raced, “no, this isn’t fucking what I want, you evil asshole.” But the words came out “yes Sir.” I slide my thumb in each hole, declaring them perfect, then walk away. “We’ll drill the last one later.”

An overstuffed high back chair had been placed in the room and I took a seat, a bottle of wine and glass on the table next to the chair. I sat, poured a glass and sipped as six naked men walked in, all with long, thick cocks. They surrounded you, one lowering the hinged end of the table so your ass was on the edge, then simultaneously shoved their cocks inside your mouth, pussy and the new holes in your sides. They held you tight as they fucked you deep and hard in every hole until their cocks throbbed and they filled you with cum. They didn’t speak as they fucked you, but looked into your eyes as if you were less than nothing, a worthless cum dump, a whore just like it said on your pussy. In spite of yourself, your hand went down to your pussy and you fingered yourself to orgasm as they began to shoot their cream into your body.

They continued to stroke you after they came, their big cocks still stretching your holes, and you could feel them getting hard again already. A woman came in and handed each of them a cigar and a shot of whisky, and they smoked and sipped as they slowly stroked you, flicking their ashes on your tits, face and stomach. One by one, they extinguished their cigars on your tits, then pounded you hard and filled your holes again. Before they pulled out, you felt the warm liquid rush into your body as they all drained their piss into your holes, the man using your mouth pulling out so the golden stream arced through the air into your mouth and splashed on your face.

You writhed on the metal table in agony, your tits, pussy and sides on fire, the pain coursing around your body ever faster like a razor-filled tornado. I walked over, “great news, your live stream is the highest rated ever in Germany and second highest in Japan. They went crazy when you soaked your hand.” So people around the world were getting off watching your sado-sexual fantasies realized. You were both aroused and embarrassed, more determined than ever to put on a good show.

A seven-holed cum dump, ashtray and urinal, on display for the world to see. Your ultimate purpose so close to being realized.

A cleanup crew came in, using a pressure washer to scour your body and holes, old and new. You wanted so badly to lay there still and just take it, but your body instinctively curled up in a ball and your hands covered your face, screaming “no” over and over. The large men quickly came in and held you down again until the clean up crew was done.

I walked over, smiling, and said coolly, “that was unfortunate, but I saw you were trying. We’re almost finished and you’re doing quite well overall. This last push could get you into the hall of fame, make you a legend.”

The men held your shoulders, arms, legs and head down as a man in a black plastic apron and mask moved behind you. You felt a searing pain and pressure at the top of your head as he drilled a large hole at the top of your skull, bone dust setting on your face, your hair ripped from your scalp as the drill spun. He left and I took his place.

You heard my pants unzip as another man moved between your legs and pressed his massive cock against your asshole. I shoved my cock into your brain as he filled your ass. Your grey matter squeezed out around my cock as I fucked your skull. You looked up at me, now a smiling idiot, literally a dumb cunt, and saw that evil, lustful gleam you had hoped for. I held your head still as my cock throbbed and I filled what was left of your brain with my cum, the man using your ass doing the same. Fucked from both ends, the ultimate spit roast.

Your hand moved between your legs as soon as we entered you, and as our cocks started to throb and pump you full of cream, you started to cum, riding your final orgasm into the darkness.

DON'T START HERE! Start at the Prologue. See the "Welcome" post pinned to the top of my profiIe for Iinks!

This won't be as 'guro' as a lot of other stuff on this sub, but I know some of you will appreciate it anyway.

Teachers and high school seniors abducted and forced into extreme sex games on a remote island replica of their school. Kind of a choose your own adventure. Inspired by the anime "Euphoria", the book "Battle Royal", the show "Squid Games", and more.

In this one... his choice is greedy, 2 students and 1 teacher from previous games, and 1 new girl, a skinny blonde. Game is What’s the Time, Mr. Wolf in cafeteria. While writing chapter, dice were rolled to help generate outcomes.

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DISCLAIMERS

In this series, I write from the perspective of the VILLAIN. That means I don't agree with his choices, and you're not supposed to either. We're all acknowledging he is evil and wrong. Obviously nothing he does should ever be done in real life! Please be mature adults and separate fantasy from reality. This SHOULD evoke visceral, icky feelings. That's the POINT. This is HORROR.

This is more PORN than PLOT.

All characters are 18+.This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to events, locales, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

WARNINGS / KINKS

-Non-con, Violence, Male-dom

-Gross Tasting/Smelling, Bodily Fluids, Sweat, Feet, Armpits

-Bondage/BDSM, Electrocution, Scalding Syrup/Food Fetish

-Blood, Piss, Unconscious, Anal

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How to read S.O.L. Games (pronounced ‘soul’) :

• Start at the Prologue (Begin Game)
• Then read one or more Level 1 chapters in any order. (Jump Ropes, Floor is Lava, Pet Teachers)
• Then read one or more Level 2 chapters in any order. (Web Design, Teacher Taut, Chemistry, Tug of War)
• Then read one or more Level 3 chapters in any order. (Hide & Seek, Pencil Sharpener, Anatomy, Dodgeball)
• Then read one or more Level 4 chapters in any order. (Mr. Wolf, Stations of the Cross, LockHer, Four Square)

See the "Welcome" post pinned to the top of my profiIe to keep track of Iinks.

More to come! Enjoy!

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S.O.L. Games: What’s the Time, Mr. Wolf? - part 4

I find myself wondering what will happen if Gabrielle is unable to catch anyone as Wolf. As she weakly calls out numbers across the room at us, she appears unable to stand, let alone chase us.

But on the third round of call-and-response, something miraculous happens to save her. Mrs. Mandal messes up. The other girls call out simultaneously, but Aadya’s voice is a split-second out of sync, “What’s the time, Miss Wolf?” It’s a technicality, but it’s enough to get her the ominous 8-bit failure sound and the Announcer’s calm voice telling us to head to the counter again. I smile, yanking the screaming teacher by the arm.

* * *

Mrs. Mandal lies facedown, all four limbs spread wide and bound down flat on the countertop. She’s in a frog-legged forced splits position. I remember my biology class when we dissected frogs, splayed them like this. She’s bent at the knees, feet wriggling around hanging off the counter facing me. Her big ass on display before me, jiggling slightly as she squeals and struggles against her leather straps. I nudge Madison’s hand, and she shoves obediently, to the anguish of our teacher.

Silverware had been waiting for us at this station. A knife, fork, and spoon. The task is for each other girl to insert the handle of one of the utensils into the anus of Mrs. Mandal. When all three are in, we will replace them with… my  utensil, to complete the task.

I guide Madison’s hand, but ultimately she has to be the one to insert it. It’s so hot watching her sob, not wanting to do this to her teacher, but afraid of disobeying. I glide my free hand up and down Aadya’s bare back and butt, enjoying the way her mocha skin glistens with sweat, the feel of her slick tone back, her meaty butt cheeks. Madison works the thick rounded tip of the fork handle into the gross near-black sphincter. By the look of it, the 34-year-old woman may never  have stuck anything up this in her life. The dark wrinkles stretch, pried open slowly. I spit and rub around with my finger. Unkempt little pubic hairs all over make the sight even more disgusting, and yet I couldn’t be more turned on.

Next is Gabrielle with her spoon. She takes too long, that annoying teen voice of hers whining with hesitance. And hot chocolate syrup comes pouring down on her teacher in retaliation. The creamy liquid hits Aadya’s back, sending her into a spasming fit of screams. The machine above then starts panning back and forth, the syrup running up her back to her beautiful black hair, then back down to her plump ass, oozing down the middle of her cheeks. Gabrielle hurries to end Mrs. Mandal’s suffering, twisting the end of her spoon until it pushes in beside the fork. But the damage has already been done. Half of the Indian teacher’s mocha body is painted with an even darker chocolate glaze, scalding her shiny sweaty flesh.

Next, Melina takes the handle of her butter knife and pushes it at her teacher’s butthole unsympathetically. It clacks against the other utensils and slides in with little difficulty. Aadya moans in agony, chocolate still dripping down around the silverware in her butt, soaking her pubes and running down her cunt-lips.

Arcade sounds ring in my ears. That’s all three. Her butt is loosened up now, ready to take the fourth and last object. I grab all the utensils and pull hard. Aadya yells, her asshole gaping slightly. Luckily there’s no shit. Even if there were, it might go unnoticed among all the chocolate running down her ass crack.

I pause for a second to admire the sight of the bitchy teacher I always hated, sprawled and strapped onto the cafeteria counter, naked, covered in chocolate, molested asshole winking at me. Then I hold my cock, aim, and take the plunge forward.

The feeling is divine. A ring of tightness gripping almost painfully hard around my dick, fighting me. Then further in it seems to open up, pleasantly loose. The warm syrup acts as lubricant, and I push with unforgivable disregard for Mrs. Mandal’s well-being until I bottom out inside her bottom. My hands massage her big cheeks and thighs and love-handles, my senses too overwhelmed with bliss to hear her screams.

The punishment task ends quickly once I’m inserted, 8-bit sounds dinging happily. But I enjoy myself for a quick couple dozen pumps. It’s not every day I get the chance to fuck my teacher in the ass! I grab handfuls of her pillowy butt, still slick with chocolate. Slap, squeeze, spread apart, smush together with my cock sandwiched in the middle thrusting away.

I pick the fork back up from where I set it on the counter, toying with my teacher, playing with my food. I rake the sharp end across her skin, down her back, across an ass cheek. She quivers and squeaks from the sensations. Then I reach the fork underneath my balls, working it into the unused cunt beneath the anus filled with my cock. The fork scrapes its way inside, prong-tips making Aadya yelp and curse indignantly. With half the fork inside her vagina, I begin cranking the handle around so that the sharp end twists and stabs at her insides.

When I bore of this, I resume a brutal humping pace, dick churning her rectum, my hands back on her thick cheeks. The whole time, my mind wanders back to real life when this woman would yell at us in class, in the hallways. A proud feminist art teacher. A married woman much older than us high school boys. She was untouchable. Superior. Intimidating.

* * *

I watch a trickle of bloody chocolate run down Mrs. Mandal’s inner thigh as she stands at the wall, shaking, her breathing ragged.

“What’s the time, Mrs. Wolf?” the other girls call out for the third time.

The teacher curses under her breath, clearly distracted from the pain. “Uh… S-seven!” She winces, reaching back and holding her bleeding butt.

I feel the room hold its breath as we all realize her mistake before she does. “Shit! I mean 7 o’clock! 7 o’clock!” Too late. Arcade sounds go off, the Announcer already initiating a punishment task. “No! No, I said 7 o’clock!” She protests annoyingly.

But I step forward to begin dragging her to the serving area. The grown woman kicks and screams the whole way, like a child throwing a tantrum.

* * *

Again Mrs. Mandal is up on the counter, this time at a new station. She’s forced into a squatting ‘crab walk’ position. All four limbs spread pretty far apart, leather straps on her wrists and ankles, with nothing but hands and feet allowed to touch the countertop. Her belly faces up, her butt droops hovering above the counter. Her knees are spread, shaking, straining. Her cunt points right at me as I stand licking my lips at the sight.

Aadya is instructed to remain in this difficult position for an undisclosed cumulative amount of time without letting anything but her hands and feet touch the counter. I’m the only one that sees the TVs displaying a whopping 10 minutes. If she touches down, the clock stops, and she’s punished with hot liquid before continuing. The position alone is strenuous, but the rest of us are also commanded to lick continuously at Mrs. Mandal’s privates!

I gleefully grab the other girls’ heads and shove them forward with me to start the timer, arcade clock sounds dinging as we begin. We all squish ourselves together to get our heads in between our teacher’s dusky thighs. I’m surrounded by the wonderful smells of girly perfumes, sweat, musky crotch, chocolate, and a hint of metallic blood.

Little Gabrielle and Madison stand bent over the edge of the counter smushed under my weight as I wiggle in over top them, forcing their heads toward the dark crude asshole lower down. Meanwhile I hug Melina in beside me, cheek to cheek with her at the vagina. Although Melina’s mouth has been all over my cock and other genitals, it hasn’t done half  the nasty things the other mouths have done today, so I don’t mind sharing Mrs. Mandal’s pussy with it.

My cock jabs against Gabrielle beneath me as I’m overcome with sensations. The warm naked flesh of all the girls around me. Our faces all struggling to find the right angles, twisting to get all our mouths at the crotch at the same time. Panting breath filling the tight space between the older woman’s knees. Hissing nostrils straining for breath. Grunts and whimpers from high school senior girls forced to lick their teacher against their will. The sticky sounds of saliva, wet tongues sliding against wet tongues. Occasional gagging as the two girls beneath me have the more unfortunate task of lapping at the filthy bloody asshole. And the mix of flavors that fill my mouth! Cunt juices and leftover sweet chocolate syrup.

Aadya tries her best, shouting wildly, trying to ignore the discomfort, the debilitating licking of her most sensitive parts. But by minute 3, it becomes too much for her. She wilts, her big ass drooping lower and lower until finally we hear a loud ominous arcade failure sound. Followed by piercing screams as dark chocolate drizzles down onto her bare chest.

The rest of us take breaths of fresh air in the short reprieve from our duty. Melina continues to act as my assistant, holding Madison and Gabrielle in place while we wait. I watch longingly as the squealing teacher on the counter lies crumpled awkwardly, searing syrup pouring continuously down on her thrashing body. When she fails to get herself up, I decide to help lift her back into crab position. I wriggle two fingers into her cunt-hole and lift cruelly upward until she’s forced to put some muscle into lifting herself. The liquid stops flowing, and when all four of our mouths are back at it, the clock continues ticking.

Mrs. Mandal’s plump body looks so delicious glazed like a chocolate donut like this. Syrup drips slowly down her sides, down from her hanging ass cheeks. Her dark skin tone glistening even darker, shiny and wet, trembling under the strain of the painful pose. I suck on the thick flaps of outer labia. I dig my tongue inside her hole. Some chocolate drips down around my lips from her belly, plastering her pubic hairs down flat.

Around minute 8, she collapses once more, and her screams go ragged and hoarse and weak. She might be going into shock from the pain and exhaustion. Her body twitches pathetically, but she barely responds to anything, even when I try to lift her with my fingers hooked up into her twat.

I decide our feast of tasty crab meat has gone on long enough. I whisper to Melina to help me, and together we get our hands under our teacher’s ass, careful not to burn ourselves. Then we shove Gabrielle’s and Madison’s heads underneath the big butt, letting her sit her full weight on her little students. They squirm and shriek getting burned and sat on underneath, but we hold them there. It seems to count as Aadya not touching down on the counter, so we wait out the clock and finish up the task.

* * *

Mrs. Mandal leans slumped against the wall where I left her. Her plump dark curves jiggle slightly from the burden of standing, chocolate syrup still dripping slowly from her naked body onto the floor.

“What’s the time, Mrs. Wolf?” The girls around me call out again. Aadya’s voice responds weakly each time, barely above a raspy whisper.

When we get about two-thirds the way across the cafeteria, the wreck of a woman finally croaks out, “Lunch time.” Everyone runs.

And when the fatigued teacher fails to catch any of us before we reach our wall, she falls to her knees in defeat, holding her blindfolded face in her hands and sobbing unflatteringly. She looks as if she doesn’t know if she can physically handle yet another punishment. When she hears my footsteps approaching, she begins softly pleading under her breath, “N-no… Please. P-please, not again…” I ignore her, yanking the woman to her feet while Melina helps me round up the others.

The Announcer’s voice declares, “Final punishment task generated…” Several gasps echo around the room. This is it. Maybe the endgame is triggered when a player loses three times. The girls all seem somewhat relieved to know the end is almost within reach, but I just smile wickedly, ready to make the most of my remaining time with them.

“Position the females according to the on-screen diagrams…” I follow the Announcer’s instructions, almost unable to contain myself as I excitedly get to work, shoving the girls one after another up onto the counter.

Female 4 goes on the bottom. Madison gets placed sprawled out on her back on the counter, delicate arms and legs spread wide like a starfish, straps on wrists and ankles, bound tightly.

Female 3 is next. Melina gets placed in 69 position atop Madison in a similar outstretched manner, lying flat out with all her weight on the thin girl below. Melina’s arms and legs are bound to Madison’s limbs so that the girls lie tightly belly to belly, Melina’s crotch inches above little Madison’s face. The blonde on the bottom groans from the weight, the hard counter unpleasant under her back.

Female 2, Gabrielle, gets stacked belly-down on top of Melina’s back, with her face hanging over the ass crack beneath her. Gabrielle is shorter, so her crotch straddles Melina’s shoulder blades. Her arms and legs get pulled by leather straps as wide as possible just like the other girls, drooping down over the bodies below. All three girls yelp and shout miserable complaints.

Female 1 tops off the pile. Aadya is the thickest and heaviest of them all, and at least as tall as Melina. The girls below scream with pain as the teacher is sprawled out facedown on top, alternated the other way just like Melina. Aadya’s belly is on Gabrielle’s back, her face hanging right over the girl’s ass, her crotch straddled over the back of the girl’s head. Like the others, the teacher’s arms and legs are spread wide in all directions, though they slope down toward the countertop. She wiggles around constantly trying to use her hands and feet to prop some of her weight up, but it’s hardly any help with how stretched she is. Finally a few more straps bind her around the midsection, smashing all four bodies down tight and secure.

“The task is over when the male ejaculates. Begin.” I’m not told how  to proceed! I’m given no other parameters, no timer, no game. It ends when I cum. Whenever I decide basically. I let out a giddy burst of merriment and step forward holding my raging cock and admiring the noisy pile of meat.

The women make a giant sandwich of writhing flesh. Each girl alternates facing a different direction --- looking at them from one end, I see head, ass, head, ass. Poor Madison screaming in pain on the bottom, the only girl on her back. The other three ladies lie facedown whining with nearly as much discomfort. A double-decker 69. A layer cake, moist with sweat, several syrups, and the wonderful flavors of femininity.

I stand on the counter, rich with choices, and decide to dip into my teacher first. I’ve raped her ass already, but now I want her pussy. I grab her butt cheeks and spread. The dark cunt is a mess of wet pubes plastered down with chocolate. I aim and plunge. Without warning, without permission.

Aadya squeals. I sigh. My hips hump on their own, my cock stabbing into a vagina that tries to push me back out. She’s not ready at all, but there’s plenty of lubrication to help me slide in and out. Plus she’s not exactly tight. The woman must have plenty of experience. So I don’t feel bad going all out on her, jackhammering my teacher’s sloppy snatch.

My swinging ball sack brushing against the back of her pretty little head, Gabrielle pipes up annoyingly from below, “Ah! Stop! Can’t you just jerk off?! Please, just let it end!” That’s true, I could just cum quick and save them from this nightmare.

But instead I pull back and lift Gabrielle’s head up by the hair, quickly shoving my cock deep into the teen’s mouth to shut her up. URP URP GURP!!  I let the popular girl from my school clean our teacher off my dick, putting that dumb mouth of hers to better use.

Then I pull out of Gabrielle’s gagging skull and kneel down while she gasps and coughs dramatically. She spews copious amounts of slimy saliva all down the crotch of Melina right below her. Gripping Gabrielle by the hair, I shove her face down into Melina’s crack. Then my free hand does the same with Madison on the bottom, lifting her  by her blonde hair and smushing her face up into Melina’s cunt right above her. Their yelps are muffled as I rub them around, smearing Gabrielle’s spit, clearing my throat and adding some of my own. I make the schoolgirls’ faces meet in the middle, sharing the ass and pussy of their classmate, cute noses brushing each other, mouths practically forced to kiss.

Then I slide my cock between the two faces, prodding my tip at Melina’s drenched entrance.

I hear her shy voice from the other end, “Hey! W-wait what are you--? I thought we--” But her words turn to incoherent shrieks as I force my inside her young cunt. I let out an involuntary growl as bliss washes over me. Melina is super tight and unprepared, but her insides are slick and inviting. Even against her will, she seems to form to me, as if meant for this. Melina needs this. I needed to humble my new little sidekick, make sure she knows there’s only one  male in these games, and he does not share power.

Still holding the other two girls by the hair, I smush them together with my cock sliding in and out in the middle, mashing Gabrielle down onto Melina’s asshole, smothering Madison up under my clammy ball sack.

But suddenly I realize when I avert my attention from Aadya for too long, hot chocolate comes pouring down onto her back from above. She screams bloody murder as her flesh is scalded yet again, the whole stack of women shaking from her violent tremors. The syrup runs down her sides, dripping onto Gabrielle’s thighs and hips below her, making the teen join the guttural chorus of anguish.

I stand again and start jabbing my cock at Mrs. Mandal’s dark brown butthole to stop the flow of liquid from above. I feel her tear a bit as I force my tip into her sphincter just like earlier. A trickle of blood oozes around my dick, down her cunt, dripping onto Gabrielle’s hair below. The teacher vibrates with pain, her voice a constant husky wail.

I defile Mrs. Mandal’s asshole just long enough to enjoy myself, splitting her open for nothing more than a quick sample. I pull out and point down slightly, plunging right into her unsuspecting pussy. I soil her cunt with her own filthy ass, cleaning myself with the older woman’s vagina.

Then, lost in a fever of carnality, I race around the other side, shoving my slick cock into Aadya’s open mouth, stifling her moans of torment before she knows I’m there. Her muffled scream feels amazing on my dick, and I almost make her vomit as I thrust too enthusiastically, making her taste all her own horrid flavors I’ve been digging out of her body.

There’s so many things to fuck, I can’t help but move from one to the next. I pull out of Aadya’s jaw and squat lower to aim at Gabrielle’s crotch underneath. It’s hard to get a good angle at the shorter girl smushed between the taller ones in the stack, but I manage to shove my tip at her puffy little entrance. A nice pudgy warm ‘innie’ cunt. With my meat coated in plenty of teacher-spit for lube, I work myself inside. Unable to hold back my eagerness, I pierce into the poor schoolgirl way before she’s prepared enough to accept me. Damn it another bleeder. I ease up, slowing my pace and savoring her tight insides.

I hold Aadya’s face in my hands while slowly fucking the girl under her. My fingers caress my teacher’s beautiful face, wiping the dark tears of running makeup from her sultry cheeks. Her forehead still has the number 1 written on it, marking her as Female 1 for this game. My touch turns degrading, my fingers playing with her face. Pinching, prodding, slapping her cheek. I shove my fingers into her sobbing mouth, casually watching her gag and struggle not to puke. All the while, my hips pump in and out of Gabrielle beneath her.

This is fucking incredible! Anything I want to do, these girls are mine. It feels like yesterday I just saw them all in real life. Untouchable women I could only dream of. Yet here they are, my playthings.

While I pull out of Gabrielle and aim my frothy cock up into Aadya’s mouth, I take in the whole experience. While I force my teacher to clean my cock of her student’s blood and pussy juices, I gaze from one girl to the next, comparing them all as if critiquing food at a restaurant. I shift from hole to juicy hole for minutes on end, trying to decide my favorite.  

Madison Halpern, the delicate thin blonde. She was a virgin before today. Now she lies suffocating and crushed underneath the others. I remember seeing her at school. I can’t believe I got to explore every inch of her.

Melina Ruiz, the tall and elegant Mexican-Greek girl who wants to work alongside me to avoid the worst of these games.

Gabrielle Sadowski, the snobby rich girl I used to think was above me. Now look at the bitch, a disgusting mess. She’s so fun to fuck though.

Aadya Mandal, the insufferable feminist art teacher. Violating her, putting her in her place like this, I could do this all day. But as far as favorites?

In the end, I decide to neglect Aadya. Deserting her, and dessert-ing her. Letting the machine pour some more hot icing on top of my cake of women, I decide to finish up inside the best hole. Melina. I sink inside her once more. That inviting wetness sucks me in, fitting my cock perfectly, whether it wants to or not. As I grab hold of her soft hips and proceed to pound her into oblivion, I find myself wondering if she’ll reconsider her offer after this. As I bury myself to the hilt over and over, punching her cervix in the back, I wonder if she’ll keep trying to assist me in these games.

With naked crotches staring me in the face, with the smell of women and sex filling my lungs, with a sweaty glistening chocolate-glazed heap of beautiful females writhing before me, I can’t hold back any longer.

I pull back a bit, keeping my tip just inside Melina’s sopping hole… and I unload at last. Waves of ecstasy drown my senses, sending my head spiraling into a sweet numb intoxication.

My exhausted body moves on primal instinct, my hands pressing down on the stack of women to squeeze my jizz out of Melina’s trembling pussy. I watch it ooze and drip down from her pink lips to Madison’s face below. And without thinking, I raise my softening dick to Gabrielle’s mouth right above to make her clean me up.

As I stand upright, panting, I barely hear the arcade sounds blasting throughout the room. 8-bit sounds of victory. The Announcer’s voice declaring the game over. I dismount the counter, totally spent, my breathing slowing down. I gather my clothes, ready for a nice cool shower.

But as my eyes return to the pile of ruined women left quivering on the counter, I find myself wondering if it means anything that Aadya was the one to end the game by losing three times. Does this simply give her one of her 10 games needed to get off the island like it will for the other girls? Or is there some darker fate in store for her as punishment for losing?

I shrug, exiting the cafeteria without a further thought for the bound women. My stomach growls. Hmm, maybe it’s time for some lunch.

To be continued.

--

Thanks for reading!

See the Gumroad Iink in my profiIe to get all my stories in eBook and audiobook formats (some are free).

Sorry for being saIesy. Just trying to support myself and dedicate more time to writing.

Hello everyone! I was looking for inspiration and came across this NNN competition that took place here a few years ago (I didn't know about the subreddit back then, but I thought the concept was so fun that I decided to write a story based on it). I hope you like it!

Remember that English is not my native language and I used a translator, so I apologize for any spelling mistakes.

Eve is lying comfortably on her bed, enjoying the late afternoon and watching snuff porn videos, something she loves to do. At 41, with long blonde hair and a well-preserved body, with a beautiful pair of breasts and ass, she is wearing a white tank top without a bra and simple shorts.

Until she noticed her 20-year-old daughter, Hannah, leaning against the door with a provocative look on her face. Hannah had inherited her mother's features, but with a wilder energy. Wearing a black T-shirt with the word "SLUT" in red on the chest, also without a bra, blue shorts and a metal collar around her neck, She had chosen a hard challenge in the NNN.

Hannah leans against the door with a playful smile on her face and her arms crossed: "Mom, how can you watch these snuff porn videos in the middle of November? Aren't you afraid of missing the NNN challenge?"

Eve took her eyes off the video and turned them to her daughter with a relaxed look. A mischievous smile curved her lips: "Not a bit darling, and besides, I've lived long enough, how are you doing with the challenge?" - he replied with an air of superiority, stretching out on the bed calmly.

Hannah gave a short, but clearly exhausted laugh. She went into the bedroom and threw herself on the bed.

Hannah let out a sigh: "You know, Mom... I'm almost given up on the NNN challenge."

Eve arched an eyebrow: "But already? What about your friends? How are they?

Hannah rolled her eyes: "Mia lost on the first day, Lena got fucked by her brother and was sent to the fuckstop yesterday... So that leaves just me, Jenny and Emily.

Eve smiled, shaking her head: "I thought Mia would last longer... well, it happens.

Eve shrugged, going back to watching the video, which showed four women playing Russian roulette while having sex, a scene that only made everything more exciting.

Hannah watched the video for a few seconds and couldn't bear the sight. She quickly went back to her room, closed the door and sat down on the floor, thinking: "How come that slut of a mom of mine doesn't masturbate watching these videos? I almost cum just looking at them!"

She ran her hands through her blonde hair, trying to control the lust burning under her skin. She closed her eyes and began to breathe deeply, trying to calm her racing heart. Slowly, she began to feel her pussy getting soaked

Hannah: shit, that video really got to me

Then Hannah's cell phone on the bed started ringing. The name "Emily" appeared on the screen. Without hesitating, Hannah answered.

Hannah:"Hi, Emily. What's up?"

Emily, sounding urgent on the other end of the line: "I need your help"

Hannah asked, curious and a little worried: "Sure, what do you need?"

Emily: "I have to make a snuff movie for my college class. I've already spoken to Jenny and she's agreed to take part. But we need help recording. Can you come?"

Hannah smiles: "Well... I didn't have anything planned for today... I'm in."

Emily, now very excited: "Great, come to my place, Jenny's already here.

Hannah: "okay, I'll be there in a few minutes, bye."

Hannah hung up the phone and said to herself: "Well... I wouldn't last until the end of the month anyway... but at least it'll be fun."

With a mischievous smile, Hannah went to the corner of her room to get her backpack, grabbed her two vibrators and her camcorder and put them in her backpack, and with everything ready, she smiled to herself, picked up her backpack and left the room,

Hannah went back to Eve's room, who was still in the middle of her snuff porn videos.

Hannah: "Mom, can you take me to Emily's house, please?"

Eve paused the video and looked at her daughter with a curious expression: "Sure, honey. Let's go. I need to stop by the market anyway."

With a mischievous smile, Hannah added: "Well, you won't need to buy meat...

Eve arched an eyebrow: "What do you mean?"

Hannah giggled: "Emily invited Jenny and me to film a snuff video for her college assignment. I'm not coming back... Well, not alive"

Eve laughed: "Are you going to lost NNN like that? Hahaha! Anyway, do you need anything for this video?"

Hannah: "No, Mom, I've already taken everything need."

Then Eve and Hannah headed for the garage and got into the car. The sound of the engine starting cut through the brief silence, and the two headed towards Emily's house. Eve was indifferent, while Hannah felt a growing excitement coursing through her veins.

A few minutes later, they arrived at Emily's house. Hannah got out of the car and walked to the door, with Eve following close behind. Ringing the doorbell, they waited for a few seconds before the door opened.

Emily appeared with a serene smile on her face. Hi, Hannah. Hello, Mrs. Eve, come in.

Emily, a young woman of 21, was tall and slim. Her brunette hair fell softly to her shoulders, swaying as she moved with an unassuming manner.

As they entered, they met Jenny, a 19-year-old with fair skin and freckles that highlighted her vibrant red hair, falling in soft waves over her shoulders. With a smaller stature and a fuller figure compared to Emily and Hannah, with a metal collar around her neck just like the one Hannah is wearing, she is naked and relaxed on the sofa, fiddling with her hair, there is also a tripod with a camera that is positioned in front of her, ready to capture every detail.

As soon as Jenny saw Hannah and Eve entering the room, Jenny smiled and waved, still sitting on the sofa: "What's up, Hannah? Hi, Mrs. Eve, how are you?"

Eve laughed, crossing her arms as she watched the young redhead. - Hey, Jenny. Are you going to lose NNN already? Hahaha.

Jenny let out a loud, carefree laugh and shrugged. "Yeah, I'm so horny I think I'm going to lose my mind if I don't cum soon! Hahaha!"

Hannah laughed at Jenny: "It's not just you who's going to lose your mind today, haha."

Emily, who was adjusting the camera, laughed at the exchange. Hahaha. Good joke, Jenny.

Eve, laughing at the girls' humor, nodded approvingly. "Hahaha, you're sluts... And where's your mom, Jenny?"

Jenny shrugged. "Her? She's dead. I told her about Emily's job and said I'd be snuffed. She said she wasn't useful anymore and then she killed herself."

Eve raised an eyebrow. "Ah, so you'll soon find her on the other side."

Jenny shrugged: "I know. Are you going to take part in the video too?"

Eve shook her head in denial:" No, dear. I just came to bring Hannah. I need to stop by the market."

Jenny got up from the couch and walked over to Hannah, hugging her affectionately from behind, her naked body pressed against her friend's.

Jenny: "Well... you won't have to buy meat, will you, Hannah?"

Hannah laughed, throwing her head back over Jenny's shoulder. "Yeah. I hope you like our meat, Mom. Haha."

Eve laughed and walked towards the exit, "I can't wait to cook you two, haha. Anyway, I have to go, bye Hannah and bye Jenny, I hope you enjoy your deaths."

Hannah glanced at the door as Eve walked away, "We will, bye Mom."

Eve, already at the door to leave, asked, "Hey Emily, can you call me when you're done?"

Emily smiled reassuringly as she watched Eve leave, "I will, Mrs. Eve."

Eve closed the door behind her and walked to the car, her thoughts dominated by a mixture of amusement and disdain. Eve got in her car, started it and left, already imagining the peace and quiet she would have at home: "Well, I knew these sluts wouldn't last long, but at least I don't have to spend money on meat this month."

As soon as Eve had gone, Jenny turned to Hannah, her eyes shining with curiosity: "What did you bring in your backpack, Hannah?"

Hannah opened her backpack and showed the items:" Oh, I brought my two vibrators and my camcorder, I thought I might need a second camera."

Emily smiled at the sight of the items: "Great idea, Hannah! My mom will be here any minute, she can use your camcorder."

Hannah: "Great! And where did she go?

Emily, shrugging, as if she didn't really care: "She went to take my older sister to the fuckstop. She missed the medium challenge."

Hannah nodded: "I see. So, how are we going to make this video?"

Jenny, with a teasing glint in her eyes, replied: "We'll start by kissing and then we'll masturbate until someone comes and the collar is activated."

Hannah, with a mischievous expression on her face: "That's it then! But what about the other one who hasn't cum yet?

Jenny, winking with one eye: "It's simple! She'll masturbate until she comes. What do you think, Hannah and Emily?"

Emily laughed a little nervously, but was clearly enthusiastic: "It's a great idea."

Hannah smiled, liking the idea: "Perfect! Sounds like a really naughty way to go."

Jenny nodded, "Don't even get me started on that, Hannah."

Emily: "So, are you guys hungry? I've made us some snacks to eat."

The three friends went into the kitchen and after a few minutes of snacking, the kitchen door opened and there stood Amanda, Emily's mother. A 48-year-old milf, her brown hair already showing strands of gray, but well preserved despite her age, wearing a simple green dress and with a metal collar around her neck. The only one not wearing a necklace was Emily, after all, she had chosen the medium difficulty.

Amanda asked, entering the kitchen in a tranquil voice: "Hey sluts! How are you?"

Hannah, as she finished chewing the last piece of her snack: "Hi Mrs Amanda, how are you?"

Jenny with a smile as she leaned back in her chair: "Hi, Mrs. Amanda,"

Emily looked up, "What's up mom, did you take Olivia to Fuckstop?"

Amanda giggled, "I did, it was fucking busy. I bet she's already been put to good use."

Amanda turns to Hannah and Jenny. "So, are you two sluts ready to be snuffed?"

Jenny grinned with a mixture of horniness and adrenaline: "I can't wait"

Hannah added, almost with a spark of excitement in her eyes: "Me neither"

Amanda shrugged indifferently. "There's just one problem... the freezer is full of meat."

Hannah shook her head: "Oh, don't worry about that, my mom will get our meat."

Amanda: "Oh, good then, Waste is shit, and look, just call me Amanda."

Hannah, with a playful smile: "No problem, Amanda."

Jenny stretched out her arms, clearly impatient. "All right, then... shall we get started on this shoot?"

Hannah stood up, wiping her mouth with a napkin: "Let's get on with it."

The four women got up and went back into the living room. Emily looked around until something caught her eye. "Wait a minute... fuck!" She realized that the camcorder had been recording for a long time, without her even noticing.

Emily laughed nervously, "Wow, I was already filming and I didn't even realize, what the fuck! Hahaha."

Hannah let out a laugh and shrugged. "Look on the bright side, you can edit it now and turn it into a 'behind the scenes'. It'll be cool."

Emily smiled, shaking her head. "It's a great idea, Hannah."

Without wasting any time, Hannah went to her backpack and took out her two vibrators and her camcorder. She looked at Amanda and, with a mischievous grin, handed her the camcorder. "Hey, Amanda, can you film too?"

Amanda picked up the camcorder and started filming: "Sure, no problem."

Meanwhile, Emily looked at Hannah, delighted. "Hannah, can I have your shirt? It's amazing! I love it!"

Hannah laughed and took off her shirt without thinking twice, revealing her body. "It's all yours, I'm not wearing it anymore." She handed the shirt to Emily, who looked like she'd just received a Christmas present.

Emily had a huge smile on her face, hugging the shirt like it was a rare jewel: "thank you so much".

Emily then adjusted the camera on the tripod, her gaze full of focus and adrenaline. "Right, are you ready?"

Hannah and Jenny looked at each other, a wicked smile on their faces, and said in unison: "Yes!"

Emily looked at Amanda and nodded, signaling that it was time to start. "Okay, and... recording!"

Hannah and Jenny start kissing intensely as their breathing becomes heavier. After a few seconds, they sit down on the floor, Jenny reaches out to take the two vibrators and hands one to Hannah, with a mischievous smile on her face.

Jenny: "Shall we have a bet? Whoever cums first wins."

Hannah, with a look of defiance: "May the sluttiest among us win."

Without wasting any time, they both put the vibrators inside their pussies, and the atmosphere in the room quickly turns into pure horniness.

Jenny: "Oh, fuck! This is so fucking good!"

Hannah: "Holy shit, let's fucking cum!"

With their legs wide open, they both moan with pleasure as they face the camera, without any shame in showing every detail of their pussies to the camera. Hannah, between moans, notices that Emily is completely focused on filming, maintaining an almost professional focus. Amanda, on the other hand, holds Hannah's camcorder with one hand, while the other is tucked inside her shorts, masturbating discreetly, but with her gaze fixed on the scene.

Minutes pass, and the sound of moans and gasping breaths fills the room. Jenny begins to squirm more, her body trembling.

Jenny: "Oh, shit... shit... fuck! I'm going to cum! I'M GONNA FUCKING CUM, AAAAHHHHHH"

With one last scream, Jenny exploded in a violent orgasm, her fluids dripping onto the carpet, drenching everything around her. While panting, trying to catch her breath, she looks at Hannah with a victorious smile.

Jenny: "See? I knew I'd win-"

Tchunnk!

Before she could finish her sentence, the collar on her neck activates, and in an instant, Jenny's neck is severed. The hard difficulty collar had a timer that allowed the person to enjoy their last orgasm before severing their head.

Jenny's head rolled to a stop next to Hannah, still with a victorious smile on her face, while her body convulsed violently for a few seconds before going still.

Hannah looked at Emily, who simply gave a thumbs-up, a subtle smile on her face

Hannah: "Well, I guess it's my turn now."

Without hesitation, Hannah reached down and pulled the still-on vibrator out of Jenny's lifeless pussy. The sight of the decapitated body made her even more excited. She unceremoniously inserted both vibrators into herself and began to masturbate frantically.

Hannah: "Fuck, I want to cum already! I want to die in an explosion of pleasure, damn it!"

As she moaned louder and louder, Hannah glanced at Emily, who again gave her a thumbs up, her eyes fixed on the footage. Then she looked at Amanda, who, with a naughty smile, took her hand off her own pussy and blew her a goodbye kiss.

Hannah: "Fuck yeah! I'M GOING TO FUCKING CUM , AHHHH!"

Her body contorted as the orgasm took over. The pleasure was overwhelming, and like Jenny, she spurted onto the floor, wetting everything around her. Feeling time running out, she looked directly at the camera, smiling mischievously.

Hannah: "Bye-Bye!"

Tchunnk!

Hannah saw her vision spin as her head was severed from her body, rolling to a stop some distance away. Even so, she could see the blood gushing violently from his neck and his body trembling. One last smile formed on Hannah's lips, satisfied, as her vision slowly darkened.

Emily, without losing focus, finished recording, calmly watching her two friends decapitated on the bloody floor.

Emily: "Holy shit, that video was fucking hot."

Amanda, relaxing on the sofa, stood up with a mischievous smile on her face: "Well, I guess those two sluts had a hell of a good time, huh? Now, I'm going to get the cleaning products to tidy up this mess."

Emily: "Good, Mom. In the meantime, I'll start editing and send it to the teacher."

Amanda: "Okay, just don't forget to call Eve, okay? We need to make sure the meat gets to her in one piece."

Emily: "It's okay, Mom."

While editing the video scenes, Emily took out her cell phone and called Eve.

Emily: "Hi, Mrs. Eve, everything's ready here."

Eve: "What's up, Emily, have you finished filming?"

Emily: "Yes, it was amazing. They had the best orgasm of their lives."

Eve: "Great, I'm on my way. I'll be there in about 30 minutes."

Emily: "No problem. See you later."

Emily turned off her cell phone and went back to work editing the video, but the insistent buzzing of the vibrators still attached to Hannah's dead pussy caught her attention. The sound filled the room in an almost surreal way. With a sigh, she approaches Hannah's body, kneels down beside her and, with a careful movement, pulls the two vibrators out of her dead pussy. They were soaking wet, covered in cum and a little blood.

Emily looks at them for a moment, the strong smell mixed with sweat, pleasure and death. Without hesitation, she runs her tongue slowly over the dildos, savoring the taste. Her eyes close briefly, absorbing the sensation of perversity.

When Emily opened her eyes, she saw her mother, standing there with a wicked smile on her face. Amanda was filming Emily without her realizing it.

Emily, instant shame rising to her face: "What the fuck, Mom?"

Amanda almost cried with laughter: "Look at you, licking vibrators that were in the dead pussy of a snuff slut! Hahahaha!"

Emily, her face red with shame and anger, tried to disguise it by throwing the vibrators aside. "What's up, Mom? Fuck, couldn't you at least warn me before you started filming?"

Amanda wiped away a tear, her laughter echoing in the room. "Relax, darling! I'm only joking with you. But seriously, why don't you put on the shirt Hannah gave you? It'll look amazing on you!"

Still a little embarrassed, Emily sighed and rolled her eyes, but couldn't help smiling a little. "Okay, okay... I'll put this shirt on."

She quickly took off the shirt she was wearing and put on Hannah's shirt, which was a little loose. As she adjusted the fabric over her body, Emily couldn't help but think how the garment had a special touch, a memory of her friend.

Emily looked at Amanda expectantly: "There! What do you think, Mom? I think it's a bit too big on me."

Amanda looked at her daughter for a moment, a gleam of approval in her eyes. "Not so much, it's perfect! You look beautiful like this."

Emily smiled, a mixture of gratitude and relief, while Amanda continued to organize the space around her, making it more comfortable. "Thanks, Mom. Now let me take care of the video editing

Amanda began to pull Hannah and Jenny's bodies up, positioning them against the wall, their heads resting gently on their legs. Soon after, she picked up a squeegee with a cloth and began to clean up the blood on the floor.

Emily then turned to her laptop, determined to work on editing the video and immersed in her thoughts, while the sound of the house mixed with the silence that hung in the air.

After several minutes, the doorbell rang. Emily got up and went to the door.

Emily: "Hello, Mrs. Eve, please come in."

Eve looked directly at Emily's shirt: "What's up, Emily, that shirt looks familiar, hahaha"

Emily, with a smile: "Well... Hannah gave it to me as a present. She said she thought I'd look good in it."

Eve shrugged and let out a laugh: "All right, she won't be wearing it any more. Better on you than in the garbage can, eh?"

The two went into the living room and found Amanda standing there, looking at the lifeless bodies of Hannah and Jenny sprawled on the floor.

Eve, with a satisfied smile, "So, Amanda, how was the recording?"

Amanda smiled, crossing her arms: "It was insane, Eve. You had to see their faces when they cum... It was incredible!

As the two chatted, Emily bent down next to the bodies of Hannah and Jenny, kissed their bloodied heads and murmured fondly: "Thank you very much, You were great. I love you, you snuffsluts."

With a gentle touch, she embraced the dead bodies, as if she were saying goodbye to dear friends.

Amanda and Eve watched Emily talking to herself as she hugged the corpses. Amanda gives Eve a little nod.

Eve, getting the message, turned to Emily: "Hey, Emily, do me a favor? Go to my car and get the body bags, they're in the back seat."

Emily nodded and stood up, taking one last look at her dead friends before heading for the door.

Emily: Sure, I'll get it.

She gets up and leaves the room, walking quickly towards Eve's car. As soon as the door closes, Amanda looks at Eve with a mischievous smile.

Amanda: I bet she's in the mood to be snuffed along with Hannah and Jenny.

Eve laughs, shaking her head: I think so too. What do we do?

Amanda: Let's watch the video, then, and masturbate! What do you say?

Eve: Are you sure? You're on the hard difficulty.

Amanda: I know, but look, if she cum, you can take her to the fuckstop, right?

Eve: Absolutely! But you don't have to masturbate too, you know?

Amanda: Oh, I know, but I'm working overtime here, you can throw my body in the dumpster in front of the house.

Eve: Right, then! It was nice to meet you, by the way.

Amanda: My pleasure!

The two of them settle down on the sofa, anxiously waiting for Emily to return.

After a few seconds, Emily returns, holding two body bags.

Amanda: Hey, Emily, put the video on the TV for us to watch.

Emily: Okay, I'll just send it to my teacher... one minute.

She hurries with her laptop, typing and sending the video.

Emily: Done! Video sent successfully. Now I'll put it on TV.

Just before the video starts, Eve casts a meaningful glance at Amanda, who immediately understands what to do. The two of them begin to take off their clothes, until they are completely naked, showing their skin in the soft light of the room.

Emily, who had turned to go back to the sofa, is startled to see her and Amanda naked: "What the fuck are you doing?"

Eve smiles nonchalantly: "Well, we're getting ready to watch the video you recorded!"

Amanda adds, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye: "Exactly! And the best way to watch a snuff porn video is naked and masturbating, of course."

A slightly shocked Emily: "But mom, you chose the hard way, you're going to...."

Amanda: "To be beheaded? I'm perfectly aware of that, my dear, and I've already accepted the hard challenge precisely for this job of yours."

Emily: "What do you mean?"

Amanda: "Well, when you told me about this job I thought, "she'll ask me to be snuffed", but you called Hannah and Jenny, so I thought, "well, if she's already called her friends, then I'll snuff myself while you go to college tomorrow".

Emily: "What about you Eve?"

Eve: "well, I always looked at snuff porn videos on the internet, but none of them excited me anymore, until Hannah said she was going to make a snuff video, so I thought "this has potential" that's it."

Emily: Okay, I understand, but what should I do?

Amanda gave a mischievous smile: "It's your choice, my dear. You can continue with your studies, get on with your life, or you can come with us and meet your friends on the other side."

With that, she picked up the remote and played Emily's video, where sensual and brutal images filled the room. Amanda and Eve settled on the sofa, spreading their legs and starting to masturbate to the rhythm of the moans echoing from the TV. Emily, standing to the side, watched the two as she reflected on her mother's proposal. The intense moans of the video mingled with those of Amanda and Eve

After a few seconds of internal conflict, Emily burst out loudly: "YOU KNOW WHAT?"

Amanda and Eve stopped, surprised, and looked at her with an expression of curiosity.

"I WANT FUCK ! I WANT TO FUCKING CUM!"

Amanda, now even more excited, shouted: "THIS IS IT, TODAY IS THE PERFECT DAY TO CUM!"

Eve, laughing loudly and full of energy: "LET'S GO! I WANT TO SEE WHICH ONE OF US LOSES IT FIRST, YOU SLUTS!"

Emily quickly takes off her clothes and takes the two vibrators Hannah used and shoves them into her pussy at maximum level.

Emily: "Holy FUCK, THIS IS FUCKING GOOD!"

Amanda, laughing: "Really? Two vibrators? You think you need all that to win?"

She starts fingering herself frantically, as if to prove a point. Loud moans echo through the room as the background video only intensifies the mood. Emily, lost in pleasure, keeps moaning louder and louder.

Amanda, without pause, continues: "FUCK, I'M GOING TO CUM! I WANT TO FUCKING SNUFF SOON, AHHHHH!"

A violent squirt escapes from Amanda, almost hitting the TV and making an absurd mess on the floor. Without missing a beat, Amanda turns her face to Eve, laughing with her eyes half-closed with pure pleasure.

Amanda: "Eve... take care of Emily ple..."

The sound of the collar activating cuts through the room, interrupting Amanda in mid-sentence. Her head falls to the side, rolling on the floor as blood splashes furiously from her decapitated neck. Her body twitches, shaking violently for a few seconds, before finally falling inert on the sofa, still pulsing with the last remnants of life.

Emily: "Holy shit, THAT WAS FUCKING HOT!"

Eve, smiling with satisfaction: "It really was... So, do you want to continue?"

Emily: "Of course I do! I won't stop until I've come. And you, Ms. Eve, how long are you going to hold out?"

Eve: "Oh, for fuck's sake, I told you to just call me Eve! And of course I'm ready. Let's do it!"

Emily: "Well then, Eve... Ready to cum together?"

Eve: "More than ready, let's fuck with everything!"

The two of them touch each other again with intensity, moans filling the room. Emily, her body boiling with excitement, picks up the pace while Eve, next to her,The two touch each other again with intensity, moans filling the room. Emily, her body boiling with excitement, picks up the pace while Eve, next to her, also loses herself in her own fingers. Sweat trickles down their bodies until, after a few minutes. They both come at the same time, their cries of pleasure merging and filling the room

Eve, still panting, smiled: "Fuck... I think that was the best orgasm of my life."

Emily, also catching her breath: "Holy shit... I think mine was too. What happens now?"

Eve: "If I remember correctly, the notification will arrive on cell phone shortly..."

Eve is interrupted by the sound of two notifications, one on her cell phone and one on Emily's. They look at the screen, and the message appears:

"HELLO, UNFORTUNATELY YOU MISSED THIS YEAR'S NNN CHALLENGE. FOLLOW THE INSTRUCTIONS BELOW:

1. Go to the nearest Fuckstop.

2. Remove any and all clothing.

3. Choose a guillotine or wait for one to open.

4. Attach yourself to the guillotine.

5. You are now a toy for any and all uses.

6. You must be dead after use.

THANK YOU FOR PARTICIPATING IN THIS YEAR'S NNN!"

Emily lets out a nervous laugh. "It doesn't sound difficult."

Eve, smiling dismissively, replies: "It really isn't. Shall we? I know a friend who owns a Fuckstop, he'll take care of everything for us."

Emily raises an eyebrow and pauses. "Hang on a second." She picks up the two camcorders, taking a quick look at the recorded videos. Then she calmly puts on the shirt Hannah had given her and a pair of white panties, Emily turns to Eve and asks: "Eve, can your friend post the videos online?"

Eve: "Of course, he will, don't worry."

Emily then looks at the bodies on the floor: "What about their bodies? Do we throw them in the trash?"

Eve: "Exactly, they're just garbage now."

Emily: "Okay, let's do it then."

Emily and Eve throw the bodies of Hannah, Jenny and Amanda into the dumpster in front of the house, after which they head for the car. As they get into the vehicle, Emily notices that Eve is still completely naked.

Emily: "Eve, are you going like this, naked?"

Eve, unconcerned: "Of course! I'm going to be discarded anyway, whatever."

On the way, Eve sees on the clock that it's already past 10 p.m., so she takes out her cell phone and calls her friend who owns the fuckstop.

Eve: "Hey, Alex, how are you?"

Alex, laughing: "Hey, Eve! Everything's fine. And you?"

Eve: "Fine. Is your fuckstop empty at this hour?"

Alex: "Yes, it is. Why? Are you thinking of coming over?"

Eve, with a mischievous smile: "Me and a friend we lost in NNN challenge. We're coming over, okay?"

Alex, laughing out loud: "Oh, fuck! I can't wait to snuff you Eve!"

Eve, joking: "You can't wait... haha."

Alex's fuckstop was just outside the city, a small warehouse, but with a modern appearance, as if it had been built recently. The place was discreet, and the atmosphere inside was cold and mechanical, almost clinical. When Emily and Eve entered, the first thing they noticed were the six guillotines lined up: three on the right, three on the left, all gleaming with newness.

Alex, a tall, strong man of about 30, was waiting. He smiled as he saw them enter.

Alex: "What's up, Eve!"

Eve: "Hi, Alex. This is Emily, my friend."

Emily: "Hi Alex, what's up?"

Alex: "Everything's great. Looks like you two lost on NNN, huh? Hahaha

Eve: Shrugging "It happens, right? Hahaha."

Alex: "Okay, then. Just pick the guillotines and tie yourselves up."

Emily approaches Alex and hands over her camcorders.

Emily: "Hey, Alex... there's a snuff porn video in here. Could you share it for me, please? It's going to be a hit on the internet!"

Alex smirked as he picked up the camcorders: "Sure thing, Emily. Leave it to me."

When Emily turns around, she sees Eve calmly walking towards the first guillotine on the left. Without wasting any time, Emily heads towards the first guillotine on the right, positioning herself in front of Eve. They exchange a knowing look.

Eve, without hesitation, kneels down on all fours, places her head on the guillotine's lunette and, with a decisive movement, presses the green button just below. A metallic click echoes through the room as her neck is firmly locked in the guillotine.

Alex, watching closely, says casually, "Hey, Emily, you have to take your clothes off."

"Oh, sure," Emily replies, a little distracted. "Where do I put it?"

Alex points to a wall just behind her, where there is a large trash can with a sign saying "Clothes." Without thinking much, Emily quickly takes off her shirt and panties, throwing them both into the trash can. She feels a slight chill as she turns back to the guillotine, but her excitement grows.

She positions herself the same way as Eve, on all fours, and slides her head into the lunette. With a snap, she closes the mechanism around her neck, locking herself in.

Eve, with a smile on her face, asks, "What's up, Emily? How does it feel, trapped in the guillotine?"

Emily takes a deep breath, feeling the adrenaline take over her body. "It's very exciting," he replies, with a twinkle in his eye. "I have no idea who's going to fuck me and snuff me... and that just makes everything better."

Eve smiling: Exactly, that's the fun, haha!

A few minutes later, Alex approaches the two with a mischievous smile.

Alex: "Emily, I've already posted your videos on the internet. They're booming!"

Emily: "Really? It was just a college project...I didn't even know if it would be successful haha..."

Then several minutes pass without anyone entering Fuckstop.

Eve: "Alex, why don't you use us soon? I'm starting to freeze here!"

Alex: "Unfortunately, I can't use the toys that are in the guillotine during working hours. I have to wait for the store to close before I can have fun."

Eve: "Damn... I'm freezing here!"

Emily, trying to reassure her: "Calm down, Eve. Soon someone will arrive. You'll already be moaning with pleasure."

Then, Alex sees on the security cameras a car approaching and parking next to Eve's vehicle. He smiles discreetly.

Ryan, a 19-year-old with light brown hair and bright green eyes, nervous but excited, parks his car next to the fuckstop. He gets out, adjusting his T-shirt and trying to calm his racing heartbeat. In front of him, the warehouse stands out, looking new and inviting, with soft lighting emanating from inside.

He hesitates for a moment at the entrance, taking a deep breath before pushing open the door and stepping inside.

Alex with a big smile lighting up his face: "Welcome to fuckstop!"

"Wow... and... hi, I'm Ryan," he replied, his voice a little shaky. Shyness was taking hold of him; it was his first time at a fuckstop.

Sensing Ryan's uncertainty, Alex tilted his head. "It's your first time in a fuckstop, isn't it?"

Ryan: "It is... I'm a bit confused"

Alex, with a relaxed and encouraging tone of voice: "It's all right, man. Pick one of these snuff sluts and do whatever you want with them. When you're done, just press the red button and the guillotine will take care of the rest."

Ryan, a mixture of anxiety and excitement coursing through his body: "Okay, thanks,"

Alex: "No problem! I'll leave you alone; I need to sort out some things at the warehouse," Alex went through the door leading to his room and locked it behind him.

Ryan approached the guillotine where Eve was being held, his eyes fixed on her curvy, naked body, the sight provoking an immediate arousal. He swallowed, trying to calm his nerves as he introduced himself.

"Hi... I'm Ryan," he said, with a mixture of shyness and desire.

Eve looked up at him, her lips curving into a teasing smile. "Ah hello Ryan, come to have some fun?"

He smiled, still nervous but determined. "Yeah... so, what do I do now?"

Eve laughed, swaying her hips slightly towards him. "Just fuck me hard, okay, don't feel sorry for me, I'm no saint, after you're done just press the red button on the guillotine. "

Eve lifts her ass, teasing Ryan, he smiles, his nervousness dissipating a little, as he positions himself behind Eve, lowering his pants with trembling hands but with his cock extremely hard. He begins to penetrate her slowly, feeling the tension and heat of the moment. But his thrusts are very slow.

Eve: "Hey, you can thrust harder if you want."

Ryan hesitates for a second, but then replies with a firm tone: "All right then."

He penetrates her hard, filling her pussy completely in one go, eliciting an intense moan from Eve.

Eve: "Fuck, that's what I'm talking about!"

They both start moaning, their bodies moving in sync, the rhythm increasing with every second. The minutes pass, and the excitement between them only grows, until Ryan feels his orgasm coming.

Ryan: "I... I think I'm going to... AHHHH!"

With a loud moan, he comes intensely inside Eve, she feels her pussy fill with Ryan's hot cum, Eve bites her lips to avoid making as much noise as possible, both of them panting, lost in the moment.

Ryan took a deep breath, feeling satisfaction and tiredness mingle while he was still recovering from his orgasm. Eve wiggled slightly, letting out a low, teasing laugh, as if she'd just had more fun than she'd expected, and her voice was tired.

Eve:"By the looks of it.... you must have liked it a lot Ryan..."

Ryan gets off Eve and walks over to her with a sweaty face: "You... completely deflated my balls... I needed that... thank you so much.

Eve with a satisfied smile: it was nothing darling, now you most get rid of me, okay?

Eve still with a satisfied smile closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, just waiting for the blade, Ryan faces the red button, hesitating for a second, but feeling the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, he presses the red button firmly. A sharp sound of metal cutting flesh is heard. TCHUNNK! The blade comes down with force and precision, and Eve's head separates from her body, rolling across the floor, leaving a trail of blood, her body trembling for a few seconds until it stops completely.

Ryan, still panting and a little ecstatic, walks slowly to the exit and leaves.

The room is silent, only the distant echoes of his footsteps fading into the distance. Emily observes Eve's severed head on the floor, still with a satisfied smile on her face, Emily sighs and smiles, feeling that soon her turn would come.

A few minutes pass and Alex returns to the guillotine room, a satisfied look on his face.

Alex: "Has Eve gone?"

Emily, still breathing with a certain excitement: "Yes, the dude came out dizzy haha.

Alex approaches Eve's body on the guillotine, slightly angry: "That guy couldn't even descard her, I'll have to do it all myself."

Emily with a playful smile on her face: oh come on Alex, it was his first time.

Alex pulls Eve's body by the arm to a garbage can in the corner of the room, and throws it in anyway, then he returns and takes Eve's head by the hair and throws it in the same garbage can.

Alex then checks the time on his watch, it was just after 11:30 at night. With steady steps, Alex goes to the front door, turns the key in the lock and turns off the lights outside, leaving the room with a soft, cold, almost intimate light. When he returns, he approaches Emily from behind without saying a word, and without any warning, he thrusts his cock into her pussy, penetrating hard.

Emily, surprised and panting: "Holy shit, I didn't see that coming!"

Alex, as he increases the intensity of his movements, moans hoarsely: "What a tight pussy."

He begins to fuck Emily more brutally, his rhythm getting faster and more desperate, the sound of his thrusts filling the empty room. They both moan, their voices mixing.

Emily, biting her lip: "This is so fucking good..."

Alex: "Ahhhh..."

He lets out a long moan as he finally comes inside her, feeling the hot cum slowly drip down Emily's pussy. He stands there for a moment, not moving, catching his breath.

Alex, gasping for breath. "Emily, you're a nice person... but you know, right? I have to snuff you now. It was nice to meet you."

Emily, with one last tired, resigned smile: "No problem, Alex... It was nice to meet you too. Bye."

Without another word, Alex pressed the button. The sound of the blade slicing through the air echoed, and with a single "tchunnk", Emily's head rolled away. She still kept her smile, even as her vision began to darken.

The end.

Hello all!

I decided to write this post to share my thoughts, impressions and likes on Guro Erotica. I am an Erotica writer (you can have a look at my profile and published stories, and support me if you like them). In my stories, men are terminated in an erotic way, usually using a poison crafted by me that makes the man ejaculate his life. But not only. Gore is not my thing but anyway, the way the end is induced is just the vehicle... So I wanted to share with you WHY I like this plots.

For me, the most important point is the emotional exchange. The thrill, trepidation, the growing feeling on the victim and the dominant role that the end is getting closer, inevitably. Victim's sadness when the mechanism is triggered: the fatal orgasm, bleeding... Dominant-role sensation of absolute control when her victim is leaving...

Yes. In this context, I prefer it to be "consensual non consensual". Or rather: scared consensual. The unwilling victim is easy to read: he will trash, shout, insult... The fully consensual victim is too unrealistic for me. The sweet spot comes with the victim surrendering to his Mistress but share his fears, trepitiation, unable to avoid a sexual stimulation. The exchange that can happen at this point is very stimulating and erotic for me.

The Mistress has the role to accompany her victim: cruelly, caring, quickly, slowly (letting her victim experience the path)... I specially like to add the bondage part. Where the victim, aware of his fears, will let his Mistress tie him so there is no way out. Offering everything and giving all control over his life.

It is a sublimation of Female Domination (also vice versa if you reverse the roles). The act of giving full control up to the point of offering sub's life.

This is what motivates me to write this death fetishism stories. Women that offer this as a luxury service, ceremonial rituals, lifestyle dommes that want to feel the experience of taking a life,... Plot twists are infinite.

Let me know your thoughts!

Today was the day a new life began.

For the past 20 years, Nogg had been adapting to the new world he found himself in. His life in the prior one had been unassuming, trapped within the daily slog that was only enough to provide the barest of necessities.

Now, he couldn’t remember much of it aside from how mundane it had all been. He remembered human history from that world, and the scientific advancements that had yet to be discovered here.

Here was something more fantastical. Those same advancements weren’t made because something more powerful and convenient existed. Magic made what would have been impossible dreams manifested into reality.

He had been determined to not retrace his steps and repeat his prior mistakes given a second chance at life. He trained every day, his physique hardened and chiseled. His body was proof of his dedication to honing his finest weapon.

While his hands were strong and conditioned enough to be deadly in their own right, they had worked tirelessly to afford the broadsword slung across his back. Humans had rejected him any place at their tables, refusing to deal with a monster.

His reincarnation hadn’t offered him something as easy as being debonaire and desired by those he now lived alongside.

He was a half-Orc, his impurities something that gave him a flaw rather than a boon as far as this world was concerned. Someone that would never be accepted by the human societies governing the provinces in these lands.

Fortunately, the Dwarven settlements cared more about the metal of his coin than the color of his green-hued skin.

Working the forges as an apprentice blacksmith had taught him many things. Patience and perseverance, and the joys of bringing something into creation out of what would otherwise be shapeless metal.

It also lent him a flame that burned inside of him, now wanting to test what he could make of himself.

The laborers had balked at the idea of him setting out to become an adventurer. Selling weapons to them was lucrative, and didn’t possess the risk of being the one to wield them.

That risk is something he wanted. Something that would differentiate who he was now compared to how he had been before, someone that would have settled into a repetitive job for the means of getting by.

Even if it was just as lonely now, he was fine with that. His sword was the only company he needed.

The dirt roads were worn by the tracks of wagons that had carried shipments in and out of the town ahead. Rivers’ Cross, given its name by the twin tributaries that formed into a single stream that led to the south. The trade settlement sat above where they connected, offering the additional means of cargo delivered by boat.

Depending on the time of year, different methods were used so that the town was never idle. Thus, it always held the prospect of coins to be earned. Shipments to be secured, quests to be fulfilled.

And names to be made.

As he neared the town, how the guards looked at him made it clear he was already under scrutiny. How their hands moved nearer to their weapons made it clear he wasn’t welcome.

He wasn’t here for their pleasantries, so he didn’t pay it any mind. Striding past them, he approached the western bridge for crossing into the town. Only this guard mattered in the grand scheme of things.

“State your business. In an actual language, if you’re able.”

“I’m here for work with the guild. They’ve put out bounties that I want to collect on.”

“You’re not the first I’ve seen come looking for those. Won’t be the last I see not returning either. Which is for the best. Go ahead, but don’t go causing trouble for the rest of us.”

Nogg nodded, walking past him without another word. The sounds of rushing water lapped against those of the morning bustle in town. He found himself with a wide berth, people steering clear of him as he passed through to the prominent building in the center of town.

The guild had integrated itself as something of a central hub, governing the economy for most towns so that those with authority could dedicate their attention to other civil matters. Among those, how to allocate the money that was brought in by having yielded some of their autonomy.

Hierarchy was largely determined by how much you were worth. Royalty and nobles were at the top of the food chain, followed by renowned heroes and lucrative merchants. Those that possessed useful skills made enough to get by, anyone who wasn’t so fortunate scrounging for the scraps left over.

Being an adventurer was feast or famine. Many died, having bitten off more than they could chew. A good number more ended up just as impoverished as those that hadn’t even tried to begin with.

Even the heroes often had songs about the glory of their deaths.

The guild hall was a place of business, the frivolity and camaraderie relegated to the taverns and pleasure districts. Outlets for disposable income to keep the adventurers coming back for more and more work until their tabs had exceeded their earnings. It maintained something of an equilibrium, the profession a necessity that people couldn’t easily retire from and that regularly brought in fresh blood to reinforce the old.

Behind the counter sat a woman, the silhouette of her dress cinched by a corset. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun, rounded ears that tapered off into points suggesting she was in a similar position to his - someone shunned by both sides of their heritage.

She looked up from her books, appraising him as her eyes moved up along his broad chest to meet his.

“I haven’t seen you around before, but you seem like you could be cut out for this kind of work. What are you looking for?”

“Bounties. There seem to be more beast sightings than usual. I want as many of them as you’ll give me.”

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, flicking through a stack of papers.

“You’re new, so I don’t want you getting yourself killed right away. It’s bad for business, and your successes are ours too. How about something like boars? They’re easy for someone with a weapon like yours. One hit is one kill usually, a copper per pelt.”

Nogg shook his head, leaning in closer to the counter.

“Bigger game. Some boars shouldn’t be the most pressing concern you have. Give me a challenge.”

She sighed, thumbing through another stack of papers.

“There are always pressing matters these days. So there isn’t any shortage of that work. How about this, would the challenge be more to your liking?”

A bounty notice slid across the desk, a hellhound that had been sighted more frequently as the autumn had set in. Shorter days had given it longer nights to hunt, and those nights had ended more than a few lives based upon the amount offered to put it down.

10 gold pieces.

“This is much more to my liking.”

“It doesn’t matter if you bring this one in alive or dead. Though bringing in a corpse would probably be easier.”

“Consider it done. Do you have any business with the body, or will it also need to be taken care of?”

She giggled, tapping the paperwork against the desk to stack it back into place.

“You must be something of a hunter. We don’t need the body, just proof of its demise. Do what you will with it.”

Rolling up the contract, she tied it with a ribbon and handed it to him.

“We’ll notarize this after you bring it in. After that, your registration will be completed and you’ll be recognized as an adventurer.”

“That seems cut and dry. No paperwork or upselling me on dreams of being a hero?”

“Paperwork is my job. Whatever yours is would be up to you. I’ll just settle your affairs accordingly and see that you get paid for your contributions.”

When he left with his contract tucked away, the sun seemed a little brighter. Anything was possible, and the world was what he would make of it. Sometimes, things were really as simple as they seemed.

The bag at his hip was already well stocked for the road ahead, the machete on the other ensuring his passage. With nothing remaining to be done other than the job at hand, he set out for the forest that had become a hunting ground.

Now, the hunter would become the hunted.

~~*~~

The dense canopy of leaves overhead blocked out the horizon beyond it, filtering down rays of diluted light. It was more than enough for him to navigate the trunks of the trees by, his boots crunching through the underbrush.

He methodically followed the path that the hound seemed to favor, laying tripwires and snares among the foliage. If the hunt became a chase, he wanted any edge that he could gain.

By the time the jade light of the forest had been dyed a setting amber, everything was in place. He was at the heart of the woods, with the perimeter behind him secured. Now, he could face it head-on.

Just how he liked it.

He always dreamt of becoming a hero. Stories from the old world always appealed to him, the grandeur of a legacy that would go on to be told by generations that followed. Tales of valor, of good triumphing over evil. That no matter what you were, there was always something more that you could become.

That measure of pride filled him to the brim, even as a howl swept through the darkness of the setting sun.

It was different to those of the wolves he had so often heard during his lifetime here. Something infernally demonic, carrying a foreboding omen that whatever it came from was far removed from an animal.

Readying his machete, he advanced into the maw of the forest.

The branches moved with the wind overhead, matching his footfall to the rustle of leaves. Even the winds seemed to be on his side, wafting his scent ahead of each step. Reaching a clearing, he laid gathered branches and stones to make a shoddy campfire.

His traps had required bait, now biding his time as he awaited luring in his mark.

The crackle of flames licking at the smoldering branches was joined by a menacing growl, the glowing ember of eyes peering at him from the trees. The jet black of its fur was darker than the night itself, the shape of its body distinctly visible before it had padded into the clearing.

“Oh? I was wondering why you smelled unlike the others.”

Her voice was sultry and rich, her tongue running over her fangs as she sniffed at the air.

“It isn’t often I get to eat something like you.”

Nogg glanced up from beside the fire, watching as she rose to stand on her hind legs. The light cast by the flames danced over her fur, the shadows of her voluptuous breasts laying on her chest rather than her belly.

“I could say the same.”

After all of his time spent training his body, he hadn’t indulged in any of its needs. He would greatly enjoy what became of her after he had collected the bounty on her head, though it seemed he would have something more than a pelt on his floor to remember her by.

Her laughter barked throughout the clearing, brandishing her claws as they gleamed like onyx daggers.

“Then we’ll say that whoever comes out on top can eat their fill of the other.”

Her muzzle pulled back to bare her fangs with a sneer, muscled thighs tensing before she pounced toward him. She crossed the clearing in an instant, the downward arc of her slash slicing through where he had been sitting just the second prior.

One second, he had sprung into a crouch. The next, he lept back and drew his machete. As her claws whistled through the air, he swung the blade toward her neck.

The clang of onyx against steel rang out around them, spinning to parry him with her tail wagging behind her as the flames flickered in its tow.

“I’ll be having mine.”

He vowed, her eyes alight with more than just the thrill of the hunt.

“You’ll be worth keeping alive. Maybe I’ll take you as my mate.”

She snickered, pushing off from his machete. She flipped backwards over the campfire, landing on the other side of it into a squat. One paw rested against the grass, the other extending outward as she shot toward him.

Rather than his leg, her claws found his machete as he deflected her swipe to the side. She spun around, a high kick grazing the air in front of him as he stepped outside of its arc.

The display of her flexibility only made her more enticing, Nogg wanting to see the various positions he could contort her in. Whipping his wrist, he flung the machete at her while her weight was centered on only one leg; the other touching down to allow for her to twist out of its path, the blade sinking into the soil beside her.

“Too slow.”

She chided, the sound of steel grating against leather cutting her gloating short.

“Once again, I can say the same.”

The machete was nothing more than a misdirection, his hand having immediately moved to draw his other weapon. Both hands gripped the wrapped handle of the broadsword, cleaving into her midsection.

Her reddened eyes flared more intensely as the steel bit into her flesh, her bounding away from him as ruby droplets glistened from the wound hanging over her stomach like a sash.

Feral animosity colored her irises, rushing in to secure her kill.

Moment to moment, she appeared beside him only to disappear in the next. He followed her movements as she bounced from him to the trees and back again, predicting her attacks as he defended against them, refusing to yield his position to her.

As the tempo of her assault reached its crescendo, he spun to go on the offensive. A brutal counter caught her shoulder, rending her flesh as she was slammed into the trees by the impact.

Each time she appeared, the scent of her blood had waned a little more. Even without having visual confirmation of her wounds healing, he knew that she was likely able to shrug off any blow struck by his blades.

Sheathing his sword, he ran toward his machete. Pulling it from the earth, his pace brought him into the trees.

Her hacking coughs became hellish barks, each more close than the last as her pursuit gradually closed in on him. He adjusted course, running parallel to his traps as her trajectory was guided into them.

There was a thud as one of his tripwires snagged her ankle, the cracking of bone and a pained howl sending shockwaves through the dense trees.

The sound of three paws scrabbling made it clear that she wasn’t favoring the one which had been broken, confirming that her bones weren’t as resilient as her hide as she continued the chase.

With three points of contact, it was only a matter of time until she fell into one of the other traps.

Her lunges became more erratic and clumsy, even as she closed in on him. Already relishing in her fangs finding his throat, she scampered through the foliage. She bounded over an exposed tripwire, evading it as the gap lessened.

Once her paws had landed, it would all be over.

As they landed, it became clear that she had played right into his hands.

The weight she brought down on her remaining hind leg found the hook of a snare, the noose snapping shut around her ankle. The wrench of her howl sprung into the air, Nogg slowing to a stop; this having only been the light work of an evening jog.

“Maybe you’ll be worth keeping alive.”

He taunted, looking up at her as she hung suspended from her ankle. Saliva dripped from her maw, her jaws snapping at the air. Her breasts bounced with each jerk in an attempt to rip herself free, her struggles only making the snare constrict more tightly.

“That was your last mistake, half-breed.”

She growled, her claws lashing up at the rope binding her to the branch. As she fell, she landed into his ambush.

His knee slammed into the small of her back, pinning her to the bed of the forest floor. His hands caught her muzzle between them, forcing it shut. He could feel the heat of her panting against his fingers, wrestling against each other for dominance as he corralled the whipping of her head.

The world around her spun as a distinct crack split the air, her paws splaying limply around her. A second snap of her neck returned her dumbfounded eyes to the dirt beneath her, her senses all that wasn’t lost to paralysis.

Taking hold of the rope, he yanked her hind leg to curl behind her; looping it around her muzzle before pulling it shut, then tying it to the opposite ankle.

“If you behave yourself, I’ll take you as my mate.”

He promised, pulling her arms behind her back to bind them together. Taking a moment to bask in a job well done, he grabbed the scruff of her neck to bring her back to town for his payment.

Her head hung conquered, following him without complaint as her breasts were dragged through the dirt.

~~*~~

Shoulders squared, he flung her onto the floor of the guild hall. His return to town had been heralded by exactly what he wanted to attain, the berth around him only widening as he tugged his trophy behind him.

“She won’t be bothering you any further.”

The surprise in the receptionist’s eyes gave way to a knowing smile.

“It doesn’t look like she will be, no. I suppose I did tell you that the condition of the body wasn’t relevant to your payment.”

She held out her hand, Nogg handing her the contract. Unfurling it, she stamped it with a seal. The ink glowed, a flash consuming the piece of paper to drop a pouch in its place with a clink.

“Congratulations on a job well done, mister…”

“Nogg.”

“I’ll look forward to assisting you in the future. Please sign here, I already took the liberties of preparing your registration documents in anticipation of your success.”

The scratch of the quill trailed ink that took on a similar glow, another flash crumpling the contract into a coin that twinkled with the crest of the guild.

“This will serve as your identification. In the event of your death, it can be reclaimed by another adventurer. If you lose it, it cannot be replaced. But it is bound to you, and can only be redeemed for services by yourself or whoever possesses it should you perish.”

As he touched the coin, it dissipated into a metallic liquid that flowed along his finger to the back of his hand. The fluid sank into his skin, regaining its shape as it conjoined itself with him.

“I see you meant that literally.”

She smiled, pushing the pouch forward.

“Very literally, yes. It’s a part of you now, as you are with the guild.”

His right hand now bearing the signet grabbed his reward, his eyes leering down at the bounty he had remaining to claim as she laid helplessly on the floor.

“I’ll be seeing you then.”

“Yes, mister Nogg. Until next time.”

The receptionist watched as Nogg left with his cargo in tow, sure that the evening ahead would hold one last howl from the beast.

There was no confetti as he paraded the mongrel through the streets on his way out of town. What would have been fanfare at a threat to the community being captured was instead lukewarm, tepid trepidation at one monster having felled another.

It would be a long time until he held any favor here. The work was thankless, but the coin was good.

As the sun set on his walk back home, Nogg knew that the night ahead would hold all the thanks he needed.

Home had always been important to him. What had once been a modest shack on the outskirts of the Dwarven settlement had gradually been expanded upon over time. Each lumber season had offered a cut of the locally sourced wood, giving rise to what had become his respite.

The heavy iron door opened inward to a foyer, the deep tones of the wooden floors filling the space with the scent of autumn that lasted year round. Hewn stone walls made it impregnable to the winds, a single staircase leading up to the second floor that held his bedroom and quarters for the guests that had never seemed to arrive.

He had envisioned forming an adventuring party one day, though tonight there wouldn’t be anyone to overhear his celebration. The hellhound landed on the floor with a thud, the burden of carrying her all the way back something that he would make her repay in what remained of her life.

Twenty years of repressed desire came to a head, Nogg slashing through the ropes binding her ankles to her muzzle. Her legs dropped, with her body remaining just as still as it had been during their travels together.

Kneeling behind her, his hands gripped her hips to tug them up so that her haunches were lifted into the air; the frivolity with how her tail had wagged during their fight something just as limp as the rest of her, the only fire she had left smoldering in her eyes as he grabbed her muzzle to look into them.

“A promise is a promise. You behaved yourself.”

He teased, his other hand stroking over the fur lining her mound. She remained warm to the touch, pushing his fingers inside of her to savor her body heat. They explored her depths, carefully charting her with a pleasure that elicited naught more than the slick nectar that coated them with each weak contraction of her walls.

“Though you won’t live long enough to be my mate. Only my bitch for tonight.”

His hands unceremoniously withdrew, unfastening his trousers as she slumped forward. One hand snatched her tail, the other holding her so that she was spread open; pulling her into him as he sank inside, dewy warmth welcoming him into her folds.

She was lively enough to squeeze around him, what little remained of her bodily functions serving to offer him pleasure in claiming his prize. The only other motion was that of her breasts dragging along the floor, her stiffened body jostling with each pump.

What had once been a worthy enough adversary was now his plaything, existing for fulfilling his every wish. Every whim would make her spin and twirl however he deemed it.

Each yank of her tail made her grip him more tightly, wagging along mindlessly to the sound of her being fucked; wet echoes reverberating around them as they filled the foyer rather than those of her barking and panting out her pleasure at being stuffed full of her newfound purpose, relishing in how it felt inch by inch.

Her maw hung open, drool smeared by her cheek as the smack of his hips became more savage and primal; instinctive need punctuating his every thrust, submitting to the urge to be bred by someone stronger than her.

Even if she wouldn’t have his pups.

Her will to live remained trapped inside, something that he would never hear. That she would serve him if he let her live, his to enjoy for all of time.

Fear heightened the sensation of how his ragged slams into her felt, scraping her walls as they drew him more deeply; even as they strained around him, nerves eroding as they were rubbed raw.

Her back curled as she was pulled into his chest by a handful of her mane, him bottoming out as a thick heat seeped inside of her. He grunted, finding release for all of his tensions in one moment. The years of ache in his loins weren’t so readily tended, something that would need to be massaged away every night.

This feeling wasn’t something he was quite ready to let go of.

Taking hold of the machete, he planted the blade against the small of her back; the graze of steel giving way to its nip, sliding under her undercoat to glide through her flesh. It parted from her muscle with each pass, intense agony blinding her.

The air itself seemed to lap at her tendons, licking her wounds as the pain worsened; vibrant scarlet dying his fingers as he worked to separate the coat of fur from its owner, each incision heightening her excruciation and humiliation.

And with it, her arousal.

Beads of pearly white dribbled from her slit as she was rolled over onto her back, her tongue flopping as it lazed from her jaws. From beneath her bust, she watched as he flayed skin from connective tissue; his work once more met with silence, though this one was far from apathetic.

Her body seized in ovation, her ebony claws curling as the machete feasted; intent on devouring her down to the bone, a carcass that would only be remembered for the luster of her fur and the look she wore on her face as she climaxed.

He carved into her mound, separating it from between her thighs. The squelch of grisly adoration accompanied him taking what was now his, her hide being separated from the meat underneath. It hung around her loosely, doing nothing to veil her from the cold that was beginning to set in as her waning lifespan spread around her.

The machete caressed each of her limbs in turn, intricate lines etched into her converging upon one another; remaining a cohesive whole, even after her mind had fallen into pieces beyond repair.

She could feel his fingers pry into her, coaxing her pelt from her body. She could feel how her body tried to heal even as it was rendered futile, her eyes rolling up as her nervous system collapsed under the convulsions of her death throes.

The last thing that she could feel was how very cold the night became as he held her coat before her dying eyes.

And the last sound she made was a warbling yip that didn’t make it past her throat.

~~*~~

By the next morning, she was once more proudly wearing her coat.

Through the hours that passed, herbal remedies were massaged into her corpse from head to toe, tenderly preserving her as she was anointed with a second life that would never find its end. Her flesh wouldn’t decay, even after months of use.

Nogg softly hummed, her final eulogy a lullaby as he delicately brushed the black tufts of fur into a glistening sea of twilight diamonds. While it dried, he treated her detached sex with reverence; no crevice left unloved, bathed in a mixture of potions.

One to stimulate her plush depths at the slightest touch, another to keep it lubricated so that it would always be ready for him, and the last to prevent it from deteriorating no matter how she was used.

He tirelessly stitched her back together, cradling her in his arms as he carried her to his bed. Laying her across it, he crawled between her legs; resting them against his shoulders as he kissed over her calves, her haunches pressed to his hips as he slid inside of her once more.

She tightened around him just as instinctively as she had in life, though the fiery gaze she once looked up at him with had been extinguished; a hollow vessel that only existed to be filled, his pleasure the only meaning she longed for.

Meaning that he would provide her into the first light of dawn, her body contoured against his. Her hips rolled beneath him, playfully bouncing along with his as he tested her flexibility; her legs on either side of her head as she was no longer able to wriggle away from him, deep strokes sublimating her ceaseless teasing into waves of gratification as he tensed before flooding her infertile womb once more.

She would serve him, his to enjoy for all of time.

He cupped her cheek, tilting her head upward with a gentle kiss on her nose. He rubbed along her muzzle, before scratching behind her ears.

“Good girl.”

He leaned in to kiss her head, his grunts becoming more panted. His hips pinned hers beneath them, the two melding together as her folds adoringly swallowed all that he had to give. Laying down, he nestled his head into her bosom; slipping into a blissful sleep, no longer wanting for a companion.

Every time he returned home, she would be waiting for him by the door.

Her knees rested against the floor, her hind paws tucked underneath her shapely rear. Her tail laid beside her, as though on the verge of springing to a wag at the feel of his hand on her head; her paws curled on either side of her breasts, tongue hanging out and eyes staring upward to beg for the treat to come.

She was a dumb bitch, but a loyal one.

After getting ready for the day to come, he ruffled her hair.

“Try to not make a mess while I’m out.”

He said sternly, a pool of his cum already pooling between her knees as he left.

Stepping outside, the day ahead already seemed better than the last. With how much he had been paid, he didn’t need to set out looking for his next quest.

But as he set out for town, that’s exactly what he wanted.

The next promise that laid before him, offering him everything that he could take from this world.

***

A/N: Thanks for reading! This will be the start of a longer commissioned series, a high fantasy with many conquests on the horizon. I'm very excited for working on it, and hope you liked the first part! <3

I can't tell you how long this fantasy has occupied my brain: a beautiful, exotic girl torn from her homeland, thrown into a gladiatorial arena with a psychopath coming off a day of life-or-death combat and needing to blow off some steam. It's kind of surprising to me that I haven't written a version of it out until now. It might be a little rough, but after posting a bunch of epics on here, I felt like something simpler and more straightforward might be fun.

This one's pretty short by my standards — though I did write it thinking that maybe I could add onto it someday. Warnings here are similar to my other stories: expect cruel non-con, rape, and snuff. There's some blood in this one, and it's written heavily from the male perspective. All characters are fictional, 18 years-of-age, and do not represent real people.

If you like what you find here, here's my story index.

Thanks for reading.

--

THE GIRL IN THE ARENA

As the setting sun fell through slits in the chamber’s brown stone walls, Simon Aurelius reclined on a hard, rocky bench. His body glistened with sweat, sand sticking to his tanned skin, to the muscles that rippled beneath his leather arm guards and loincloth. Blood flecked the skin of his chest, dried spray in a harsh line. Unlike his skin, the sword that lay beside him was clean.

Simon closed his eyes as he listened to the sounds of the arena, the crowd swelling as shouts and cries slipped in through the window slits. He focused on his breathing, drawing the smoky, musty air of the antechamber and savoring the fading taste of iron. Today’s battle had left a few small lacerations on his arms, cuts that had already coagulated in the time since his fight had ended. Barely a scratch, compared to what he’d done to his opponent.

With his eyes shut, his breathing focused and slow, he didn’t notice the attendant that had entered for several seconds. When he opened his eyes, it seemed as if she’d appeared there, garbed in the white robe of those that served the gladiatorial troops. Brown hair fell in soft curls around her shoulders, her eyes emerald pools that regarded him with a quiet watchfulness. Men like him were unpredictable — he knew that. And he knew his reputation.

“Yes, woman?” he asked, tilting his head ever so slightly, his dented gladius held loosely at his side. The light had dimmed during his meditations, the sky outside the window slits deepening from navy into indigo.

“I bring a message from the Emperor,” she breathed, her voice trembling ever so slightly. Simon felt a smile creep across his face at her fear, a twinge of lust stirring in his loins. These servants were off-limits, of course, but he could still imagine the feel of her body beneath him, the way those flowing robes would part around her youthful curves.

“Well, out with it,” he grunted.

“He would like you to partake in one more fight before the night concludes,” she said.

Simon sighed, leaning back against the cool stone of the wall. The sounds outside had died, firelight flickering in as the braziers around the arena were lit.

“The Emperor should know,” he growled, “that I have fulfilled my quota for the day. The month, in fact. He could make it clearer that he wants my head on a pike.”

“No, sir,” she said. “You don’t understand. It’s a… ceremonial, fight. A reward even, for your valor in the arena today, in vanquishing our enemies.”

Simon said nothing, his mind slowly turning through the words. Finally, a slow smile broke out across his lips.

“In that case,” he murmured. “Bring me my lash.”

—

When Simon stepped out into the coliseum, the night had fully darkened, and the grandstands glowed with torchlight. Fire blazed in the trough around the grounds, illuminating the bed of shifting sand and casting the crowd as a darkened mass of shouts and cheers. Unlike earlier, when he’d fought and slain his criminal opponent in a field of broken crosses, the stadium had been cleared of all its usual props. There were to be no obstructed sight-lines for this fight.

As they saw them, the crowd burst into another round of cheers, and Simon raised his empty hand to meet their adoration. Slowly, he spun in a circle, his eyes adjusting to the darkness, to the firelight dancing off his skin, the sound of rabid adulation and the anticipation of what was coming.

“Announce yourself!” A voice boomed down from above, from the Emperor’s box, ringed fire that shrouded its occupants in shade.

“MY NAME!” he roared, his hand still raised. “IS SIMON AURELIUS! BLADE OF JUPITER! WARRIOR OF THE SEA AND STARS!”

The crowd’s roar swelled, their love raining down upon him, cloaking his body in warmth. No matter how many times he’d heard their roar, Simon never tired of it. Just as he never tired of what was coming next.

“Great warrior!” The voice echoed from walls, reverberating through the arena’s sand and stone. “Meet your final challenger!”

Simon’s gazed turned toward the opposite end of the arena, toward the portcullis slowly rising into its flickering stone jaw. As the crowd quieted, anticipation building, his breathing grew more rapid and his heartbeat thundered ever-louder in his ears. He waited so long for these moments, never knowing when they would arrive, never knowing if, with his line of work, the next would be his last. He was going to savor this one for everything she was worth.

Slowly, as he watched, a form materialized from the shadows. The body of a young woman, barely more than a maiden, revealed first in outline, then in flickering relief. At the sight of her legs, long and smooth and supple, her thighs and hips barely shielded by a wrap of fine white cloth, Simon felt his lips widen into a predatory grin. His eyes traced her body upward — her midriff, bare and toned but pleasingly pliable, her muscles rippling beneath her skin as she took each careful step onto the sand. Her small breasts, pressing against the strip of fabric they’d wrapped around her chest, the dark peaks of her nipples begging for the evening air. Midnight hair fell around her shoulders, long and thick and so dark it almost appeared the blue of deepest night. Her pale complexion glowed in the torchlight, enticing and exotic, a far cry from the deep tan of the empire’s inner reaches. From the delicate curve of her heart-shaped face, her small, quivering lips and the fear in her deep brown almond eyes, Simon knew she was far, far, far from home.

“Your challenger, great warrior!” The voice called again, and Simon watched as the girl’s eyes snapped up toward the emperor’s box, then around at the crowd’s darkened, writhing mass. “A slave from the East who refused to bow before the Emperor’s might! In our infinite mercy, we offered her a choice! A life of service to our soldiers on the battlefield, or her freedom, should she prevail in the arena.” A pause, drawn out as the girl’s eyes fell finally upon Simon, as they widened with a new kind of fear.

“She chose to fight.”

Simon chuckled, taking a step forward as he watched the girl’s eyes dance across his body, watched the trembling in her limbs grow more and more pronounced. They had given her some rudimentary arms: a small buckler barely large enough to shield a single arm, and a short, simple blade of sharpened obsidian. Enough for her to feel like she might have a chance — and to give him a chance to tear it all away.

As he took another step forward, he reached down to his hip and unhooked his lash: a weapon for special occasions, for moments like these. The whip was long, unwieldy in the hands of anyone with less than otherworldly strength, and tipped with a hollow metal barb shaped like the stinger of a scorpion. Within it was a chamber that, before such fights, his attendants filled with a rare serpent’s venom. Not deadly, at least not in small doses, but capable of causing torrid, searing pain.

It was not the weapon of a fighter. It was the weapon of a torturer.

“BEGIN!!”

The crowd roared as if expecting a rush, but Simon, the ever-patient warrior, waited in the center of the arena, watching his quarry, his prey, as she trembled and squirmed just outside his reach. Her eyes flickered up and down his body, from his toned legs to the whip in his hands to the sick, easy grin splayed across his face. He shifted back and forth as he watched her, his eyes roaming up and down her body, anticipating how it would feel when he finished toying with his prey, when he finally felt those supple curves beneath his weight.

Finally, her mouth hardening with resolve, she rushed toward him, kicking up sand beneath her sandaled feet as she drew the knife back for a strike. Simon waited until she was almost upon him, until he could see the strands of hair whipping around her face, before sidestepping and letting her sprawl onto the sand. She let out a scream as she fell, rolling on her side and onto her back, her skin glittering with sand as she stared up at the cold and icy stars.

“Get up,” Simon barked, unfurling the whip and twirling it in her direction. She flinched out of the way, rolling onto her stomach and climbing to her knees, her chest shaking with each frantic, heaving breath. He cracked it — not close to hitting her, but just to watch her flinch — and at the way her eyes flickered shut, the muscles of her face clenching with instinctive, animalistic fear, he felt his cock begin to swell.

Slowly, the girl clambered to her feet, her breathing still rough and uneven as she stared at Simon still, stoic form.

“Come on now,” he said softly, almost gently, and gestured with his free hand.

She stared at him, then, shaking, took a step back.

“Pick your poison, I suppose.” Simon shrugged, and unfurled the whip.

CRACK!

The girl let out a guttural, piercing scream as the lash tore an angry gash across her thigh, her body convulsing as the venom entered her bloodstream. Simon watched, the shallow grin returning to her face as the knife and buckler fell from her trembling hands, as she dropped to her hands and knees and the crowd’s cheers thundered from the stands. The torchlight played across her body, now quivering with agony and glistening with sweat, her hair falling in a rough, disheveled curtain across her face.

“Please…” she breathed, the foreign word halting and awkward on her lips. Simon grinned at the sound of her accent, another reminder of how long she’d traveled, how far she’d come to die.

“Get up,” he said again, leaning on his back foot and dangling the whip by his side.

Another moment passed, another shudder running down the girl’s spine. He waited, lazily flicking the whip around his legs, until finally she pushed herself to her feet.

He started towards her and she scrambled away, nearly falling backwards onto the sand. Almost lazily, her reached down and picked up her knife from the ground, turning it over in his hand. As she watched, her eyes brimming with tears, he raised the blade to his mouth, holding it against his lips. Slowly, he ran his tongue up the serrated edge, enjoying the bite of pain, the taste of blood that filled his mouth, the feeling of it coating his lips, stained his chin and dripped onto the sand.

With a flick, he tossed the knife towards her, embedding it into the sand before her. But her eyes never moved, locked onto his face as his own blood dripped from his lips, as he reached up and touched his fingers to the stream, then drew a lazy line across his cheek.

“Doesn’t it make you feel alive?” he breathed, his mind aflame with pleasure as the harsh, burning pain of the incision rippled through his body. His pupils widened with pain and bloodlust. His cock throbbed beneath his loincloth, ready to burst. He was ready for the final act.

Shaking, the girl reached for the knife and grabbed it by the hilt as, for one last time, she struggled to her feet. Simon watched her, salivating as the crowd’s murmured roar began to swell again. This wasn’t the first time they’d seen this show. They knew his style, the way their wolf liked to toy with the rabbits he was fed. They were about to get everything they’d come to see.

Simon slowed his breathing, watching, enjoying, soaking in the waves of fear emanating from his prey. She stood, holding the dagger out in one hand as, from the other, she swept the rough curtain of her hair from her face. For a moment, he was transfixed by her beauty, by the line of her face, the dark, despairing pools of her eyes, by the spray of sand now marring her perfect skin. As she waited, trembling, he reached down and unhooked his belt, letting his loincloth fall to the ground. His cock sprang out, engorged and hard as stone, painted with shifting shadows in the torchlight.

At that moment, he saw the last spark of hope within her fade — saw true despair fall across her face as she realized that she hadn’t just been brought here to die, to be ceremonially executed for the enjoyment of the masses, but to have her body and soul taken and spread out before them in all its naked glory. Simon watched as she turned the knife inward, almost imperceptibly at first, as if something automatic within her brain were contemplating what awaited her, and the only path she had left to avoid it.

“Did I give you permission to die?” he hissed, watching her expression widen, intention flash across her face.

But before she could plunge the blade into her own chest and rob him and the audience of their climax, the whip lashed out one more time. It slashed across her arm, drawing a fine spray of blood as it sliced across the back of her hand, and her fingers spasmed, the knife falling to the ground. 

She stumbled away, heaving and sobbing as Simon hung the whip around his neck and stalked towards her, his presence forcing her back to the edge of the arena, his footfalls quiet on the sand. The crowd had gone silent, waiting with bated breath for the finale of the show they’d waited all day to see. Waiting for their champion to make his final move.

Then, as she pressed up against the coliseum’s high stone wall, he was upon her. She thrashed and struggled as the gladiator closed one hand around her neck, pressing her back against the wall as he squeezed just tight enough to make her gasp and wheeze. With his other hand, he traced the line of her neck, felt the soft expanse of skin above her breasts, the shudders rippling through her as she tried to beg and plead around his choking grip.

“P… please…” she hissed, her arms pressed back against the wall, her hands splayed out on the stone.

“That’s the only word they taught you, isn’t it, whore?” he said softly in reply, staring deep into her eyes, midnight pools no longer able to hold back the flood of tears. Slowly, he worked his hand beneath the strip of fabric on her chest, feeling the swell of her breasts beneath his palm. She wheezed, whimpering as he ran his fingers across her skin, teasing out every moment, every sensation he could give her, searching for the cloth’s tattered edge. He was in no rush to unwrap his prize. Truly, this was his favorite part.

The crowd let out its first new roar as, with a flourish, he tore the strip of cloth away and sent it fluttering across the sand, exposing the girl’s small, pert breasts to the chill night air. Goosebumps burst across her skin, her small, dark nipples pebbling in the sudden chill, and, salivating, he leaned in and engulfed one in his mouth.

As Simon suckled on the young woman’s tender breast, he felt her muscles soften in his hand, felt her breath weaken against his fist. Slowly, he released his grip, now just pressing her against the wall with his weight, his body flush against her toned stomach as he licked up and down her chest. The girl whimpered, shaking with unwanted, unwilling sensations as his hands drifted lower, creeping down her sides to her plush, enticing hips, his fingers finding the edge of the wrap that concealed her sex.

“No…” she breathed, her voice barely audible over the cheers raining down from above. “No… please I… I…”

With a swift, violent tug, Simon tore her final scrap of clothing away, revealing her body to the night, his hands playing across her rigid, clenching thighs. She let out an agonized scream as he forced his hands between them, forced his fingers past the dark bush hiding her cunt from view and between her lips.

“This is all you are,” he breathed, his tongue still playing across her breasts, the blood from his cut spread across them in a wash of sticky red. “All you were meant to be.”

Then he threw her from the wall, sending her tumbling away onto the sand, her body rolling once, then twice, before finally coming to a stop. She lay face down on the arena floor, her back shaking with sobs, her sweaty skin sticky with sand, the swell of her ass rising pleasingly into the air. Simon chuckled again, making his way towards her step by ambling step, pausing only once — to collect her dagger from the sand.

The audience cheered as he knelt down behind her, his legs engulfing hers as he stared down at her prostrated form. Trembling, she tried to push herself up onto her elbows, and for a moment he let her, watching her back arch up, her muscles rippling, her skin glowing in the firelight.

Then he leaned down, pressing his chest against her back, his cock slipping into the cleft of her ass as he rubbed himself against her, the first of many pleasant tremors passing down his body. His lips brushed against her ear, the poor girl unable to move even as she tried to flinch away, salty tears streaming down her cheeks as the audience, every man and woman in attendance, cheered and chanted for her demise.

“Say it again,” he whispered in her ear, his brain flickering with electricity as his cock pressed against her ass. “Say it one more time.”

Her body shook with another wretched sob, her skin trembling beneath his hands as he stroked her, almost gently, almost like a lover.

“Please.”

The word was barely audible. But it was still enough.

With a roar of pent-up lust and hours and hours of aggression, Simon drove his cock inside her, plunging through her pussy and skewering her like a piece of roasting meat. The crowd rose around them, cheering and jeering as the girl tensed and cried out — the scream tearing from her throat unlike any other. As pleasure rippled up his shaft, Simon arched back and like a wild animal howled into the sky, his muscles clenched and his body trembling as he drove back into the girl’s helpless body, feeling her muscles tense around him as if she could push him out, as if she had any control left over her fate.

He loved this. By Jupiter, he loved this so much.

As he withdrew again, he grinned at the sight of blood speckling his cock, at the shakes and shudders running through the young woman’s broken form beneath him, savoring the feeling of her torment. Slowly, he sheathed himself, rocking back and forth and leaning back down into her, his weight forcing her body into the sand. His hands rubbed up and down her sides, feeling her soft, unsullied flesh give way beneath him, and for a moment he imagined the life she might have had in the home she’d never see again. He imagined her making her way up a misty mountain beneath a shroud of trees, kneeling to pray at a shrine to her own false gods. Imagined her dancing in a colorful dress, the fabric shimmering and glowing as boys of her own race watched and waited, each hoping they might earn not just her body, but her love.

He thrust again, forcing out another choking scream from the girl’s ragged throat as he bashed against her cervix. What had she dreamed of there, in that peaceful, foreign place, awakening each morning under a different, softer sun? Had she been carefree, happy, naive to her impending fate? Or had she always known, beneath the surface, that this was what awaited her? The sense of her demise creeping towards her in the middle of the night. A tiny, discomforting kernel buried in her darkest dreams.

As he hilted himself inside her, he reached beneath her chest and closed his hands around her breasts, on her nipples still hardened with fear and unwanted arousal. Slowly, he began to rub in tiny circles, his callused fingers pressed against her pebbled skin as his hips came flush against her ass. Quiet fell over the arena as the crowd, noticing the change, the slowing of his pace, began to hold their breath.

A long, shuddering breath escaped her lips as he pressed himself against her, his thighs wrapped around hers, squeezing her legs together around her mound. Squeezing. Teasing.

“Ahhhh…” the gasp that escaped her lips was soft, almost inaudible, but somehow still the entire crowd seemed to notice. Grinning with malice, his lips still red with his own blood, Simon pressed harder, squeezed firmer, drawing his hips back as his fingers continued their unrelenting work. And slowly, haltingly, he felt her rise to meet him, her ass arching up from the ground and rising toward his hips, swallowing his cock, enveloping him in her soft and gentle heat.

“That’s it, little rabbit,” he breathed, licking the iron from his lips as she wavered on the edge. “Come for me. Come for your master.”

He felt it before he heard it: the tensing of her muscles, clenching around his cock, drawing him into her supple warmth as her body tried to close around him. The trembling of her breath as if trapped inside her chest, trying with everything she had not to give him what he wanted. Then, the moan, low and long and pained as she broke for him, as if the sound itself were tearing her apart. Her body trembled as he sheathed himself inside her, her muscles rippling beneath his hands, quaking as she came. 

“That’s a good girl,” he breathed, smiling as he drew himself back from her spent, exhausted form, his hands drifting away from her breasts. As she lay there, her face buried in the sand as she tried to catch her breath, he reached up to the whip around his neck and pressed his thumb against the metal barb. It dislodged from the end with a soft snap — a sound that made her flinch pleasingly beneath him, even though he knew she couldn’t know just what it meant.

He hung above her for another long moment, staring down at the curve of her back, the swell of her ass, his cock flickering with pleasure as he drew the moment out. Slowly, he turned the barb in his hand until it was pointed down, his hand aimed at the small of her back, just above her butt.

“Now, it’s my turn,” he growled.

As she tried to turn, fresh fear filling her dark eyes, he jabbed the barb into the skin above her ass, grinding it against her tailbone. When her mouth first opened, no sound came out — her muscles already immobilized by the agony rippling across her form, her lungs so frozen by the pain they were unable to even expel a scream. Simon howled into the sky as he drove himself inside her, feeling her entire lower body clench around him, her pussy squeezing his cock like a vice as her thighs clenched together around her mound. Her back muscles hardened like a mountain range, her ass squeezing as he ground against it, paralyzed by the toxin he’d unleashed into her body.

With that, Simon wrapped his hands around her pliant hips, digging his fingertips into the now-hardened muscles beneath, and began to pound her still-sopping cunt with a new ferocity. The crowd roared down with him as he shouted at the sky, his mind finally overwhelmed with release after a day of violence and blood. As he speared into the helpless girl beneath him, her body contorting with agony, unable to force his invasion out, he reached into the sand and clenched the dagger that he’d buried beside them. Growing closer and closer to eruption, he squeezed his hands around the hilt, feeling the cloth handle imprint on his palm. Beneath him, as her muscles began to ease, he heard her once again begin to sob.

A moment later, the circuit completed in his brain, and Simon felt his body ripple with a wave of pent-up tension. He plunged into her one final time, crushing her beneath his weight, wrapping his fingers in her hair and forcing her face down into the sand as he flooded her tight, helpless pussy with his cum. The girl shook beneath him, struggling to breathe as he held her down, forcing her into the arena floor as he shot load after load into her womb, his cock throbbing and pulsing with each new wave of pleasure.

When he finally withdrew, it felt like hours had passed, like she’d spent her entire lifetime in service to his cruel, unrelenting orgasm. He emerged from her with a wet, sticky pop, a gush of semen tinged pink with virgin blood dripping from her bruised and battered cunt. As he leaned back on his knees, then rose up to his feet, he watched the slender, ravished slave shake and sob and try to curl into a ball. The crowd watched with him for a while, a stadium of voyeurs, their own desires almost fully sated, waiting with bated breath for the final release.

“WHAT IS YOUR JUDGMENT?” He shouted out, pacing slowly in a circle around the girl, her juices still dripping from his cock. A moment of silence followed, everyone in the coliseum seemingly holding their breath at once, waiting for the proclamation from the Emperor’s box.

“SHE IS NOT WORTHY!”

The voice boomed down, and Simon gave one final, leering grin. Without hesitation, he reached down and wrapped his fingers in her hair, dragging the girl up to her knees as she gave a final, pained whimper. Her eyes widened as she saw the dagger in his hand — her dagger, the one they’d given her to try and defend herself, still flecked with his blood. He could see the knowledge in her eyes, the realization that there had never been a chance for her. That they’d set her up, offered her to him on a silver platter. Not a fighter, a competitor, but prey for him to slaughter.

He didn’t say another word as he slashed the knife across her throat, feeling a brief resistance, then her flesh give way beneath the blade. Instead, he just watched her eyes, those dark gemstones finally overcome with pain and sorrow, their light fading as a curtain of blood fell across her chest. As he watched her life snuff out, his thoughts drifted again to her story, to the home that she’d been taken from, to the childhood she must have lived and the friends she must have had, the mother that must have kissed her forehead when putting her to bed each night, now gone into the ether. His, all his, to tear away.

As she slumped to the ground, lifeless, her eyes a glassy stare, he turned away and raised his arms to the crowd, their adoring cheers raining down upon him in the firelight. And even as attendants shuffled out, collecting the girl’s body and carrying her back into the darkness from which she’d come, he stood there like a statue, chiseled in stone, awash with the pleasure that only came from the marriage of love and fear. With the torchlight painting his body, the girl’s blood drying on his hands, he opened his mouth to the heavens and shouted at the sky.

“ARE! YOU! NOT! ENTERTAINED!”

And by their screams, they were.

The morning sunshine spills from over the spruce treetops that coat the slopes of the surrounding hills and mountains. The light breaks and scatters between the various branches and needles and across the cracked asphalt road, eventually seeping through her closed eyelids and filling her mind with unwanted consciousness.

She lifts herself with great effort, off of the scant plastic chair, finding that the fire in the barrel has long burned out. She leans against the crumbling concrete wall of the building behind her as she fishes around in the pocket of her winter coat. 

Radiation pills and painkillers come first, downed swiftly with a sip of moonshine from a metal flask. Then after a moment's hesitation another, heavier swig follows, superseded by an uncomfortable cough and a deep breath. 

She fell asleep here again, in this damned, desolate place. Last time the approach of a stray wolf had woken her up just in time to reach for her shotgun. She had vowed then not to spend the night here ever again. And yet here she is.

She exhales the smoke, allowing it to be carried by the cold breeze past the concrete porch of the building and into the light rain that has begun to decorate the surrounding gloom. The cigarette ash falls past her discolored lips and her long brown hair which sways faintly with the wind, past her slender frame, hugged by her drab green coat and dirty, graying jeans. 

At least the last night had been peaceful, which was of course no guarantee that the next night would be too, but after a drink or two, she really couldn't help herself. The view is like no other - the uneven mountains and the woods that sway in unison, broken up only by the old asphalt road that winds, wraps and slithers between the hillsides. A rare landscape - one untouched by nuclear flame. 

And the building itself has a presence to it that she fails to describe even to her own self - as if its doors wait for her every moment that she isn't here.

A figure appears from the woods some distance away and begins to straddle the asphalt up the hill. Its frame is masculine and he appears not to notice her from the huge green goggles of his gas mask. The wind blows the heavy black trenchcoat to his side revealing a rifle, hosted on a sling.

He notices her eventually, taking note of her lack of aggression, even with a shotgun leaned up against the wall beside her.

“Peace?” - He shouts out in a voice muffled by the mask.

“You can take that thing off, the air’s good up here in the mountains.” - She returns with a smirk.

The man pauses, eyeing her up and down, before slipping one gloved hand beneath the neckpiece of his mask and pulling it off in one piece to reveal his features. He is young and clean-shaven, with greasy brown shoulder-length hair. He looks to be younger than her, but not by much, and significantly better groomed than the vast majority of men that she deals with.

She smokes unhurriedly as he approaches the concrete porch, stepping within to dodge the intensifying downpour. 

He removes his backpack and sets it against the wall, she thinks she can hear the clinking of glass inside it. 

He stops to catch his breath, before looking back at her once more.

“You’re right. The air’s nice.” - He says, exhaling wearily.

“The settlement's two miles down the off-road, in case you're lost.” - She says, huffing the smoke.

“Yeah, I know.” - He returns, keeping his hands not too far away from his weapon, but unable to help but notice her completely relaxed demeanor.

She raises her eyebrows.

“What brings you all the way up here then?” - She asks.

“Sightseeing.” - He returns.

“Ah.” - She says quietly, breaking eye contact.

“Same as yourself, I'm guessing?” - He asks after a moment's silence.

“No, I'm local. I just come here to get drunk on my off days.” 

He looks at her with a questioning expression.

“I just like solitude, is all.” - She elaborates awkwardly.

“I'm…” - He says - “I'm sorry, is that real tobacco?” 

“Yeah. Marlboros.” - She says, twirling the almost fully burned-out cigarette between her fingers - “I’d offer you one, but they're really rare and I'm almost out.” 

The sentence perplexes him. She speaks as though she doesn't even notice his weapon, and as though the two of them aren't miles away from the closest human being.

“We’ll make it a trade then.” - He says, leaning down for his backpack and retrieving a tall, dark bottle. 

“Holy shit, is that…” - She says, eyeing the bottle.

“Yep.” - He returns, removing the cork with movements of a Swiss army knife fetched from his belt.

He walks over to her, where the two plastic chairs stand at the side of a sheet barrel. 

“Don't tell me you have glasses as well.” - She says.

He feigns a frown and shakes his head.

“The bottle’s gonna have to do.” - He says.

She smiles, warmly, then motions for him to take a seat at one of the chairs before doing so herself.

She lights a cigarette for him, tossing another match out into the pouring rain and waiting for him to take the first swig from the bottle. He does so soon enough, and now she too presses the bottle mouth to her lips, savoring the long-yearned-for taste of red wine.

Nostalgia wraps around her like an old sweater, warm and familiar, and for a while she isn't coming down with a hangover at a desolate hilltop in the middle of nowhere, miles away from the destitute array of tents and shacks that she calls home. She isn't sitting next to an armed man that she just met, who now exhales smoke into the blowing wind. 

Instead, for a moment she is home. Her real home. Sitting next to the window of her little poster-cluttered bedroom, getting drunk for the first time off teacups of supermarket wine together with a friend, while her parents are away for the weekend. 

It's so warm.

“What's your name?” -The man asks, leaning back in his chair, causing her to snap away from the bliss. She examines his features momentarily - his sharp jawline, the white skin of which contrasts against the massive black scarf around his neck, and deep brown eyes that inspect vacantly.

“I'm Agatha.” - She says at last - “And you?”

“I'm Nathan.” - He returns.

“Sightseeing you say. You're a traveler of some sort then?” 

“Well, I'm a merchant too. These bottles aren't exactly pocket change.” - He says, taking a swig of the red wine and passing the bottle back to her.

“What kind of liquor merchant drinks his own stock?” - She says with a mocking smile, before a healthy gulp.

“The best kind.” - He returns almost immediately.

The wine goes down smoothly, far from the disgusting oily moonshine that the locals, herself included, drink usually. It leaves a warm red fluster across her lightly freckled cheeks and amplifies the pleasant warmth. 

“And what line of work are you in?” - He asks, she guesses out of politeness. Of course, it couldn't be a secret to him what the primary profession of girls like herself is in these lands. 

“Take a guess.” - She says.

He feigns a thoughtful expression, as though trying to solve a riddle.

“Marketing manager.” - He says, causing her to laugh out loud.

The man looks up at the concrete building, eying the seven dusty letters that spell out its name and eight more that denote its function, all still proudly affixed above the entrance - “Liberty Fuckstop.”

He stands up to get a better look.

“So this is the place, ay?” 

“in all her glory.” - She responds - “The only one still standing in the state, as far as I'm aware.” 

He looks back at her.

“What kind of prostitute comes to a place like this, of her own accord?”

Now she looks up at him, exhaling smoke between the parting lips of her smile.

“The best kind.”

He smiles too.

“I'm guessing you'd like a tour of the interior, sightseer?” - She says, standing up to dispose of her cigarette.

“I could always explore alone if it's trouble.” 

“Pff.” - She scoffs, walking towards the door and motioning him to follow.

The two enter the dusty hall, illuminated only by whatever sunlight makes it past the rain clouds to spill inside through the open door.

The paint on the walls seems to have held up well, even as cobwebs cover every corner of the room. The reception desk window is shattered and a small, empty command room is visible on the other side, complete with a small desktop and a monitor. 

Against the opposite wall of the hall, aligned in a grandiose row of six, stand the dusty, discolored mechanisms. 

He runs his hand across the lunette of the first machine, the thin, delicate blade of the guillotine above now plagued with rust.

“None of them work, do they?” - He asks. 

“They're electric.” - She echos - “So not unless you have some diesel for the generator in the back.”

“Right.” - He says, admiring the metal construction.

“There is one…” - She says after a moment's hesitation - “in the back that's fully mechanical. Spring loaded. German model.”

“Oh.” - He says, pondering the implications of such information being relayed to him.

“Did you ever get to visit one of these places?” - She asks. 

“No, I…” - He inhales, looking back towards her - “I was fifteen when the bombs fell. I wasn't allowed in.” 

“Shame.” - She says, lighting yet another cigarette.

He looks across the array of machines, smiling faintly.

“I did try to sneak in once or twice though.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Didn't make it a single time, the reception lady was ruthless.”

She chuckles.

“I did dig up some recordings on the internet though.” - He adds.

“The grainy, security ones?” 

“Yeah, haha.” - He says - “You seen them too?”

“Mhm.” - she responds - “There was even some old security footage on the reception computer. The generator still had some fuel when I first came back here a year ago.”

“Oh wow.” - He says, eying her from afar.

“Wait.” - He continues a moment later - “What do you mean “came back?”

She exhales the smoke calmly, watching it disappear into the darkness of the room.

“I got my summons on the day that the bombs fell.” - She says.

“No shot.” - He says as he takes a seat on the padded metal bench, between the two raised leg holders on its sides.

“Right hand to god.” - She says, raising her eyebrows - “I lived all the way down in the city too. It was an hour by cab.”

He leans forward, leaning his elbows on his knees and his chin on his fists.

“What was it like?” - He asks.

She looks down at the ground.

“Well, uh. The last week was…” - She says dropping the cigarette on the floor and stepping on the lit end - “The war had gone on for a while by then and the peace talks had fallen through. I don’t know how it was wherever you come from, but here everyone sort of knew that the end was coming any day now.” 

“Right”

“I remember my sister saw the notification when I got it. She said she was jealous that I'd at least get an enjoyable death compared to her.”

“Is that so.” - He says.

“I mean.” - She shrugs - “Sure, I’ll take a little parting fuck over turning into nuclear ash any day. But there was something else to it too, y’know.” 

She pauses briefly.

“There was certainty now. No more waiting, no more fear, no more waking up each morning just to say goodbyes over and over. It was the end and that’s all there was to it.”

He listens intently, his eyes displaying his obvious fascination.

“How’d you survive?”

“I hid in the trash chute.”

“What, with the heads and the bodies?”

“Yeah. Everyone else seemed to be staring at the flashes and I thought… Yknow.” - She says, shaking her head with a deep breath.

“Self-preservation instinct.” - He rationalizes. 

“Exactly.”

There is silence for a moment, while the wind howls outside.

“Let's get going.” - She says, beginning to tread down the corridor - “The tour doesn't wait.”

They walk into the rundown backroom, opening beyond the sheet metal door at the end of the corridor. There are two more mechanisms, standing against the side wall - the first of them, as advertised, spring loaded and fully mechanical. The other side of the room houses a plastic table with chairs around it, along with some storage lockers full of tools of various sorts.

She takes a seat and he does too, laying the bottle on the table. He watches her take off her winter coat, revealing a red shirt that tightly hugs her shape.

“We should drink to something.” - He says.

“You have a toast to propose?” - She asks, brushing her hair to the side with a swipe of her hand.

He pauses to think. What are they drinking to?

“To us?” - They had just met. 

“To love?” - If the previous idea was merely ignorant, he fears she might take this one as an insult. 

“To life?” - LIfe ended seven years ago in clouds of smoke and fire. Vaporized together with everyone that they’d ever known in a few short minutes. What they were living now was a sad imitation - hers likely even sadder than his.

He realizes that the answer has been staring him in the face all along.

He raises the bottle.

“To liberty.”

She stares at the table blankly for a moment, before her eyes eventually find his. She gauges his expression and her own expression slowly contorts into a melancholic smile.

“Sure. I can get behind drinking to liberty.”

He downs a sip. She does too. He watches her cheeks flush red, as her dilated green pupils gaze back at him. And the two stare on.“You are so pretty, Agatha.” - He says at long last.

“Thanks.” - She returns unhurriedly.

“Do you get that a lot?” - He inquires.

“Only when a client’s trying to procure a discount.”

“And does it work?”

“Not often.’ - She says with a playful chuckle - “Only when they’re as handsome as you are.”

He smiles.

She smiles back.

…

“Agatha.”

“Yes?”

“Why aren't you scared of me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I am a stranger, y'know. I came here armed and…”

“What is there to be scared of?”

“Well. everything.” - He says slowly.

“That everything is nothing if you think about it.” - She says.

“What can you realistically do to me?” - She continues - “Rob me? I have jack-shit. I save all my cash during the week so I can afford this crap on the weekend.” - She taps the metal flask in her pocket - “Fuck me? I get fucked for a living. And at least I wouldn’t have to pretend to enjoy it. Kill me?”

She pauses.

“You can probably put together how that would make me feel by now.”

There is silence for another minute. She knows what he is going to ask, and sure enough, he does.

“So why not just do it yourself then?”

“I tried. But it's not the same, It really just isn’t.” - She says - “I stick my head in there and I put my one hand over the button and I try to get myself off with the other. I can't do it. It's not the same if I have to make the decision. Someone else has to press it. That's my closure, Nathan. That's what they stole from me.”

She pauses once more, trying to rack up the confidence to finish the thought.

“That's what we just drank to, isn't it?” - She says.

…

Their clothes come off slowly, in between lengthy intoxicated kisses. He feels her warm breath against his face as he undoes her bra, revealing a pair of soft, shapely breasts, complete with perky, slightly puffy nipples. She bites her lip as he cups one with his mouth, sucking lightly while slipping a hand down her jeans, finding her panties soaked through with excitement.

She leans into him, letting her knees buckle and his face press into her chest, purring softly all the while. He runs his fingers around her slit, eventually sinking one finger inside her while brushing her clit softly with his thumb. She breathes heavily into his ear. Eventually, he pulls her away, and the two stare at each other in silence.

She slowly lays back on the padding of the device, allowing him to remove her pants along with her last remaining piece of underwear. Her pussy is shaven and her pert ass elevates her mound a fair height off the plane of the table. He helps her trembling legs into the brackets, allowing him unrestricted access and an unobstructed view of her every part.

Her chest rises and falls softly as he walks over, securing first her hands and then her neck into the mechanical cuffs. He feels her goosebumps as he runs his hand down from her neck to get a handful of the sensitive flesh of her breast and to roll her rock-hard nipple between his fingers. Her cold sweat coats his palm. She shudders and emits a protracted moan, one that's cut short by another kiss to her lips. 

“Where should I bury you?” - He whispers in her ear when their lips finally part.

“Leave me here.” - She whispers back between heavy breaths.

He doesn't say anything after that. Only walks back over to her legs, stepping in between.

She feels a kiss, laid on her inner thigh, followed by another, and then one more. He kisses and licks and gropes all around her salivating cunt, making a clear effort to dodge her most sensitive flesh.

She whimpers with frustration.

“Just… Just fuck me already.” - She mumbles out.

“Shut up.” 

A chill runs up her spine. All of the sudden, the metal of the cuffs on her hands and neck feels colder. She swallows as excitement swells in her chest, laying her head back in full acceptance of the rest of his teasing.

His licks and kisses and gentle caresses stretch on for several more agonizing minutes. So much so that when his tongue finally touches down on her pussy she can't help but squeal.

He sucks lightly with his lips, brushing his tongue carefully back and forth up against her clitoris. Two fingers of his one hand slip into her moist slit, rocking in unison in a come here motion, while a finger of his other hand probes the rim of her asshole.

Her eyes roll back, melting with pleasure. She whimpers and moans and shivers with dazed ecstasy. Above her, within her hazy view glimmers the brilliant edge of the guillotine blade. It is slick and dangerous and… mesmerizing in its own right. It carries an addictive presence that she was never able to fully appreciate. But now that she is fully at its mercy. 

Now she sees it in all of its grandeur.

And it's beautiful.

She loses herself completely in the view, so much so that she fails to even realize when Nathan finally decided to fuck her. When she snaps out of her cozy delirium, she finds her own edge having almost crept up on her. She looks at Nathan, who seems to be abliss by a wholly different view. 

She panics momentarily. Is this it? Is he as close as she is? Does that mean…

But then her eyes return to the blade. She feels her shoulders relax. Somehow it seems to have gotten even more menacing than earlier. Its edge - even sharper, its gleam even brighter, its presence even more intoxicating.

Her heartbeat accelerates, blending with the sounds of their flesh colliding in loud, rhythmic pats. It all unfolds as a symphony in her mind, combining with her building pleasure and the mesmerizing view, inching towards what can only eventually be a grand finale.

She holds her breath momentarily, letting the sensation build to its tipping point before breaking into a loud, high-pitched moan, her orgasm rocking every muscle in and around her pelvis. Her arms and legs convulse against the restraints as her mouth falls open. The song becomes complete. 

He finishes too, but she doesn't realize that. Gone is that level of awareness. Everything is a blur now, except for the blade.

She hears the faint sounds of a click from somewhere far away. 

She sees the spring lock of the blade shift and the edge begins to accelerate with a brilliant flash.

She screams.

For a moment there is liberty, and then, nothing at all.

***

He buries her under a spruce tree some yards away from the building. He searches for a gravestone for a while but eventually gives up. 

He fetches the half-empty pack of Marlboro reds from the pocket of her coat and sets out on his way.

+++++

Hello community! Hope you enjoyed my first-ever erotica piece. Let me know what you think of it, any and all criticism is welcome. I might soon make a poll on what I am going to write next, so feel free to stay tuned for that.

Lexi loved her family. She loved the attention her dad would give her when she walked around the house naked. She appreciated the lesson her mom would give her on how to please her father. She especially loved her mom's cooking. Her favorite meal was meat girls that her mom would buy from the market. Her mom slaughtered the young 18-year-old to 21yo girls herself and prepared everything. Lexi used to have 2 older sister, but they were slaughtere for the last two thankgivings. It still got her wet thinking about howDaddyy tortured them before death. It makes the meat taste better if theydo ite slowly and painfully. Last yea, they didn't even kill Hanna till days later. Instead, they boiled her tits in hot oil and l then ate her alive. Her screams of pain could be heaed a mile away. She didn't scream for long tho bc her father shut her up by shoving a cock in mouth.

This year it was lexis turn to be the turkey ! She could t wait ! She dreamed every night about her dad was going to torture her! Maybe he would pour hot oil into pussy! Or put her tits in a deli slicer and have fresh meat for daddy's lunch every morning.

Thanksgiving day She woke up and walked into the kitchen. She didn't even bother getting dressed. She was completely nude so was her mother. Her mother told her that lexi wasn't going to be the turkey this and in fact she was and it was lexis duty to slaughter her mother and prepare her body for thanks givings.

Lexi was sad at first but told her mother to lay on the table. She obeyed lexi then began to fuck and on her mom's tits drinking the last of her breast milk before sitting on her face. Then lexi leaned over and started eating out her mom's pussy, literally. She didn't lick she just started munching down on her mother's flesh then her father came in and started to fuck his wife throat.

They kept her alive for a week. Slowly eating her flesh till she had no pussy, tits or fat on her body. After that they threw her mother the dogs outside to be eaten alive. Lexi then went on to be impregnated by her father.

The cold air embraced her hairless body. The scars on her skin cast their little shadows amid dried, crusted remnants the bodily fluids released on her less than half an hour ago, the sun reflecting itself off of her bald head. Her dirt-baked hands rest on her thighs, her blue eyes locked on the horizon, over which the sun was getting ready to set. She was on her knees, between a five feet hole of her own making and a man that she, in a sense, had sold her life to. A life that she knew he would soon extinguish. He had his hand on her cheek, gently holding her against his leg, as they watch their last sunset together.

Two years ago she had been diagnosed with a brain tumor. Treatments: Unsuccessful. Time left to live: Not long. She always had fantasies of being taken and owned before, chatted with men on the internet, where she also made it known exactly one year and two weeks ago today. On that, one of the men she sometimes spoke with made her an offer: If she was to give him the last year of her life, he'd in turn ensure the prosperity of her family. Two weeks later, she had disappeared from her home, leaving not one person in the clue about her whereabouts.

That was the day she became his property. She wore wigs, back then, to cover her hair loss from the treatments. No more. Now she wore a collar - a small, black one. Nothing expensive, the type you'd find in any discounter. Nothing more was needed. Over it, on the rear of her neck, he had used a razor to carve in a scar in the shape of a bolt. The first cut he'd give her, but not the last. Her skin had become a canvas to canes, belts, knives. He had even nailed her to a wooden pole once, driving the nails through her forearms. He had cast down upon her any abuse that he could think of, and she took it. One time, he had cut the insides of her cheeks, kissed her and then made her perform a bloody fellatio. Another, he had rented her out, for a small variety of video productions. Sometimes durimg those, she got filthy. Sometimes, she ended up with the tattoo of a paw. And after every time, after being pressure washed in the garage, she found a warm bed, a hug, loving affection.

And now - now the final day had come. Exactly one year had she served him. She aborted three pregnancies in the meantime. Sunk below the status of living being. Became property. A whore. And found herself liking it. So much so, that she almost regretted what will come next - but at the same time, an envelope is on the way to her family's house. In it a goodbye letter and a sizeable amount of cash, the first of many payments to come. Of course, the letter would not mention what she did. Nor where to find her.

The sun touched the horizon. She gulped and took a deep breath. He let go of her head and turned to her. She looked up to him and found a warm smile. "You were my favorite." he says warmly before laying the blade against her throat. She sharpened it herself. She opened his pants and gave his erect member one last kiss before looking him in the eye.

The blade dug itself into her neck. A careful cut, creating a hole into her airpipe, just large enough for him to push his tip through the wound. It hurt, immensely, so much so that she tried to scream - but to no avail. There was no more air as he fucked the wound, reducing her to a fleshlight once more in her dying moments. Her blood ran down her naked body, between her breasts and then her legs, coating her glistering nethers. The world became black around her, the pain no longer the center of her essence. The last thing she could hear was his grunt, paired with the mixed flavor of blood and cum in her mouth.

He let go of her once he came. The light in her eyes went out, but they still stared at him. She had begun to cry, but no more tears would be shed. Her limp body fell backward into the hole she dug, landing on her belongings spread out in the bottom. He'd linger for a while, looking at her. Pissing on her, masturbating, cumming. Then, he took some last pictures and began to fill in the hole. Her flesh would now nourish the tree near the hole. It was his favorite tree, and consisted of all his favorite things.

Also on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60461773

Deadly Dice Game

Still panting from her latest orgasm Ada heard the die rolling again, she waited, it finished rolling, and the woman holding her at gunpoint glanced at the result.

“Again.” She simply commanded.

“Please just a…” was quickly cut off with a simple gesture with the shotgun. Ada swallowed, took a deep breath and moved the wand up to her still sensitive clit again.

She had only planned to cum once, like most nights. Only this time interrupted. As she neared climax, eyes closed, breathing hard, she heard a footstep. When she turned to look the intruder had already come in and was aiming a large shotgun right at her. The woman, maybe late thirties, … only spoke one word.

“Continue”

Ada sat frozen in fear as the woman calmly walked over to the corner of her room and sat down on the chair next to her dresser while maintaining her aim.

“Continue or I blow your head off right now”

Trembling she moved the wand back again, her arousal somehow not gone with the shock or the terrifying presence of the armed intruder.

“You and I are going to play a little game of chance. You cum, I roll this die, on a twenty you live and I leave, but, if I roll a one, you die.”

From the matter-of-fact tone in the woman’s voice and calm demeanor Ada had no doubt she meant it. Still frozen in useless instinct she barely noticed her body still reacting to the vibrating toy between her legs. The intruder settled in the chair and watched Ada with a simultaneously cold and lustful gaze. Terror slowly quieted down to fear and shame about being watched in one of her most private moments. As she obeyed her intruder’s demands and continued to play with herself she tried to ignore the added arousal from both. Sure she’d leave the curtains open sometimes but surely that was because no one lived close enough to look in, not because the thought of being watched was kinda hot. And those ravishment novellas in her dresser didn’t betray a penchant for being overpowered and forced to enjoy it…

She gazed into the dark barrel of the gun and glanced at the fearsome woman holding it as one of the best orgasms she’d ever had built up and washed over her. Bucking and moaning in orgasmic bliss.

Then for the first time that night she heard the dice roll and the curt command.

That was over an hour ago now, her vulva almost numb from the constant stimulation, her mouth dry and her mattress soaked with her juices. Each orgasm more painful and less pleasurable than the last. However at the same time a desire to please her misstr intruder had grown, noticing little signs of approval and displeasement from her as Ada pleasured and displayed herself to her and changing what she did in response. Surely some survival behavior she thought to herself, no deep desire to please the most powerful person in her life.

She continued to lie to herself about being tempted to surrender herself to the woman if she survived, serving Her, pleasuring Her, being owned by Her, used by Her. Cramping pain almost completely drowning out the pleasure from the orgasm.

She breathed hard to steel herself for another painful round as she waited for the sound of the dice roll to stop and the game to continue. To be commanded and obey again. But her Mistress stayed silent this time. She opened her eyes to look at her. The evil smile in Her eyes told Ada everything she needed to know even before the words were spoken.

“One” she purred with satisfaction as she rose from her chair and took proper aim. Not giving her young victim time to plead, fight or flee she pulled the trigger.

The heavy projectile smashed into Ada’s breast, tearing through the flesh and fat, smashing through the bones before shredding the lung they protected and finally exiting through her back. Wet blood and pulverized tissue staining the headboard she rested against.

Ada looked down at her mostly missing breast in confusion, the tenth of a second stretching for ages in her mind as her brain tried to catch up to the thousands of signals before settling on simple, sheer agony. Her open wounds sucked in air as she tried to inhale enough breath for a scream only for her body to stop and cough in protest, spatters of blood landing on her olive skin.

Instinctively she tried covering the ragged hole, maybe stem the bleeding, still hoping for a miracle, survival, a chance to live. Looking to the one person who could provide it she never had time to recognize the futility of hope as a second slug smashed into her face, soft brain matter disintegrating and escaping the confines of the now shattered skull.

Her body slumped over, still except for a few final bloody spurts of heartbeat growing weaker as it died too.

The woman panted in ecstasy from the sight of the mangled body growing still, watching pieces of brain and drops of blood slide down the wall. Pocketing the dice before leaving.

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it.

mm, ballbusting, castration, fight, gay, handjob, cum, sweat, muscle

Brayden dropped his ass on a chair. Lines of sweat were running over his hairless, muscular torso, until they disapeared at the edge of red fighting shorts. Young man was breathing heavily.

"Fucker's going for my balls! Ugh... I will kill him!"

Coach Turner drew the curtain shut. Conditions in this tournament were unusual. The ring was completely round, and at the side of it there where booths for fighters. The booths were closed, separated from the outside by a black curtain, giving the fighters and coaches a lot of privacy between rounds. Muffled sound came from outside - the announcer was entertaining the audience during rather long break between rounds.

"He'll exhaust himself. You'll get one good punch in and he'll hit the ground before even knowing what happened."

Coach Turner wasn't worried yet. He used to be a fighter too, back in his day, just never as successful or handsome as Brayden. Brayden had a naturally hairless body and boyish face. Even with facial hair, mustache and goatee that framed his sensual mouth, he looked like a teenager. His pecs were perfect, thick half circles, decorated with small, pink nipples, now covered in beads of sweat. Fighter's biceps were nice and shapely, accentuated with large veins that run from armpits across them. Coach envied Brayden a little bit. He was better looking, he fought better - he was all coach Turner couldn't be in his younger days. The kid could take on everybody! That's how they called him - "Billy the Kid".

This tournament didn't have regular rules. Noone was allowed to use their real name here. It was an underground MMA event, where the winner was awarded quite a hefty sum of money. The fighters were supposed to fight round after round, until one was out. In return, the audience expected blood and carnage, and lasting injury - maybe not in every fight, but often enough. Coach Turner didn't think much about rich dumbasses who watched these fights.

"I wanna kill him!" Brayden repeated.

Brayden's opponent fought under the name "Nigerian Crusher". He was large, made of bulging muscle, yet hellishly agile and evasive. This guy was good. Brayden could barely touch him. Almost as if mocking, Nigerian Crusher slipped out of touch, out of grasp, then returned a kick or a punch, always to Brayden's crotch. Not enought to make Brayden fall. Couple of these hits would be devastating if not for protective cup inside Brayden's jockstrap. They danced like this for the whole round, and, inexplicably, the spectators seemed to love it.

"Nigerian Crusher... where do they get these nicknames?" coach Turner mumbled. "They should have called him Nigerian Eel. Nigerian Piece of Soap."

Multiple hits to his fighter's crotch had to be investigated all the same, and he kneeled between Brayden's legs.

"Hold on, I gotta check your nuts."

Brayden grunted, he didn't seem to be worried. Coach pulled down his shorts and jockstrap, and stared for a second.

"Your cup is shattered. I've never seen such a crazy thing."

"It kinda felt so! Fucker kept going for my balls!"

The protective cup didn't get removed with the jockstrap. Instead, it stayed wedged between Brayden's legs, embedded there by Nigerian Crusher's punches and kicks. The shocking part was that the cup was cracked, split into several uneven pieces. Somehow Brayden's opponent had managed to break thick, white plastic of protective cup. Subsequent hits kept destroying the cup and was bruising Brayden's balls. Coach Turner looked at Brayden.

"Do you feel ok... down there?"

"I'm fine!" Brayden grunted. "I can take a punch to the nuts!"

"All right then," coach said. "I'm gonna give you a new cup. You'll need some lotion too."

It didn't look like crotch punches had impact on Brayden's fighting spirit. He wandered if it was just his adrenaline talking. Previously coach Turner evaluated Brayden's chances of winning to ninety percent. Now, seeing what Nigerian guy was able to do, coach Turner lowered the chances to eighty.

Between the cracks, coach Turner could see reddended flesh of Brayden's ballsack. Jagged edges had cut into the skin. Head of Brayden's dick was poking through one of the cracks. One after another, coach removed the pieces. Brayden's balls were dark red and swollen much larger than their natural size - a natural reaction for what they had gone through.

Coach Turner's heart beat quicker. There was something about seeing his trainee's vulnerable genitals in front of him. He knew, he had to be responsibile and retire Brayden from the fight. Throw the towel, give the fight to Nigerian Crusher - who cares about the loss! But hey, this wasn't a regular tournament!

"What if Brayden loses his nuts?" a thought raced through coach's head. "No, no, that won't happen."

Coach Turner licked his lips. His dick stiffened. Brayden wanted to fight, and he couldn't rob him of his victory. The victory chances were still eighty percent! Well, maybe seventy percent. That was a solid chance to win.

Coach Turner splashed some water from a bottle on the ballsack to wash away whatever tiny amount of blood had seeped from the cuts. Brayden winced. Coach squeezed some white cream on his palms, rubbed them together and started spreading it on Brayden's battered balls.

"Augh... Hrrgh..."

Of course, his touch were causing some pain. Brayden's injured ballsack was swollen to the size of grapefruit. Red color really stood out between pale and hairless thighs. The sack was stretched, with almost black veins zigzagging all around the skin. Brayden would need several weeks to let the swelling decrease. Coach Turner was carefully spreading the lotion on Brayden's battered balls. White cream was getting stuck inside the cuts, left by the jagged edges of the shattered cup.

"Balls of steel, right?" coach said reassuringly.

They really were not made of steel. Brayden's ballsack was swollen and now shiny like a red bowling ball. Coach knew that it was, in fact, merely a mirage. After the beating during the first round, Brayden's balls were as fragile and almost jelly-like as a boiled egg. As coach was fondling his talanted trainee's testicles, he thought that he could easily destroy them, if he only pressed his palms together. If he pushed his thumb down in the middle of one of these brittle orbs, he would leave a finger-deep crater in the surface of the testicle. Coach lowered Brayden's chance of victory evaluation to sixty percent. Good thing there was a spare cup available.

"That's done, now - protection for your balls."

This new cup, which coach Turner pulled out of the bag, was different. It was completely transparent, and was rounder, more bowl-like than other cups - just perfect for Brayden's bloated nutsack. Made from perfectly clear, glass-like plastic, the cup was advertised to be unbreakable. In it, Brayden could take fifty direct punches without even feeling anything.

"This will hold better than the previous one. New next-gen technology. Basically a piece of art!"

A new problem appeared. As coach's calloused hands were massaging the lotion into Brayden's nuts, young man's dick had become stiff and hard. It stood up like a tower, which coach Turner viewed it as a natural and healthy bodily response. Another sign, that Brayden was ready to fight, but now the dick didn't fit inside the cup. It just sprung back up, when coach tried to bend it down.

"Sorry, coach, I don't know what to do..." Brayden was embarassed.

"You just relax! I'll help you."

Coach squeezed more lotion on his hands and, wrapped both hands around Brayden's engorged cock. He knew quite well the mechanics of a man's body. There was a way to make Brayden's dick soft again.

"Just relax, kid..."

Coach Turner's grip was tight and warm. He quickly rubbed up and down, and Brayden grunted and rolled back his eyes.

"Come, on..."

It felt like Brayden's dick became even harder for a second, then it spurted white cum. A squirt after a squirt, it shot upwards, mostly towards coach's face. He kept jerking.

"Come on, let it all out!"

Some of the cum was dripping to the base of the dick and droplets landed all over Brayden's abs and thighs. They both now were breathing heavily. Coach himself had a raging hardon. Nevertheless, handjob had done it's purpose, Brayden's dick was soft again, and the cup could be placed.

"It's fine, it's fine..." coach said, cleaning off Brayden's cum with a tissue.

Coach put the transparent shield over Brayden's swollen balls and flaccid dick. Some squeezing was required, during which Brayden moaned from pain again. Barely, but his precious genitals fit inside. Red, swollen balls, with flaccid dick pressed between them, filled the entire space inside the cup. Transparent plastic enlarged Brayden's battered, veiny dick and balls like through the glass of a bizarre fishbowl.

"Look, kid, if you really don't want to go on the ring again, don't. I won't blame you."

"Why is that?" Brayden was puzzled.

"No, I didn't mean... Whatever. You go and kick this guy's ass. Nigerian Crusher? More like Nigerian Meatball!"

Coach Turner pulled up Brayden's jockstrap and shorts. It was about time, because the signal was sounded for the start of the second round.

"It's up to you now, kid!" he clapped on Brayden's shoulder.

Coach was too horny to think straight. All he could think was Brayden's swollen balls. He had trained Brayden for years. He was all coach Turner couldn't be in his younger years. You could bet, some Nigerian Crusher's punches will reach Brayden's crotch. The cup will hold. The new, stylish transparent plastic cup will endure against any opponent's hits. Opponent will lose focus and one punch will knock him down. Brayden will win. What was the calculation? Fifty - fifty?

"Nah," coach Turner thought. "Brayden will win. Hundred percent."

Coach Turner's dick was hard anyway. He strategically crossed his hands in front of himself, covering the hardon. They walked towards the arena. Nobody was looking at him, the lights and all the eyes were on the fighters.

Brayden, or Billy the Kid as he was known here, and Nigerian Crusher met in the center of the ring. Both, for a second, measured each other, and Brayden went on attack. Coach Turner watched with the utmost attention, while his dick remained filled with tingling sensation. Brayden was acting too fast and too brash. Maybe the first round had angered him too much. He kicked high at Nigerian Crusher's head. Coach Turner knew that it was was telegraphed too well even before Brayden's opponent had acted.

Nigerian's body moved in a spring-like fashion. He evaded and then repositioned himself, almost teleporting to a new position and kneed upwards into Brayden's unguarded groin. A loud thud echoed across the place, and it felt like a deafening silence set in. Instead of following the kick up with anything, Nigerian stopped and stared at his opponent. His face was completed with a mocking smile. Brayden meanwhile seemed to be frozen in place. His eyes rolled back, and his body quivered once. Next second Brayden dropped on the ground like a sack of potatoes. The audience exploded in thunderous cheers. Nigerian Crusher raised his arms. His joyous laughs disapeared in the noise. The second round had lasted for fifteen seconds.

"Nigerian Crusher has done it again! " announcer's voice boomed. "Billy the Kid joins the long list of annihilated losers! We won't be seeing him again, that's for sure!"

Stagehands jumped in the arena and dragged Brayden to the booth. Coach Turner, astonished and still covering his hardon, followed. The announcer kept talking, to which he didn't listen.

The stagehands left immediately after they dropped Brayden's body on the bench. Brayden's body convulsed infrequently, and he was foaming at the mouth. Coach Turner hastily drew the curtain to hide them both from strangers' eyes. The sounds of the arena became little bit muffled.

Coach Turner couldn't believe how quickly it all had ended. Nigerian Crusher's knee shot squarely between Brayden's muscular thighs, right into those nice, round, swollen testicles. Coach Turner just couldn't wait to see the outcome. What had happened to the red, swollen and already fragile balls, trapped inside the transparent cup, which he had chosen for his trainee?

With trembling fingers he pulled Brayden's shorts and jockstrap down. The cup stayed in place, stuck over Brayden's crotch. Its thick, transparent surface had bent inwards, creating a round dent in a shape of Nigerian Crusher's knee. Everything inside had been smashed to pulp. Clear glass-like surface was giving a clear view to the carnage. The impact had exploded Brayden's bloated nuts into bits, creating something like of a chunky soup out of nut flesh. Coach pushed fingers under the cup and lifted it up. Pieces of testicle tissue were smeared all over the transparent surface of the cup. He let the cup fall back over the gooey remains of Brayden's once healthy ballsack.

"I'm sorry, kid..." coach mumbled.

Coach Turner pulled his dick out. It was already rock hard and aiming forward. He was couple seconds away from cumming all over his fallen trainee. He hastily pressed his palms on Brayden's sweaty body. In his horny haze coach caressed fighter's pecs with one hand and abs with the other. He didn't want the moment to come so fast, but he couldn't do anything about it. His dick shot a load.

"Fuck!" coach let out a muffled groan.

He rolled his eyes as his dick quivered and shot ropes of white jizz over Brayden's meaty pecs. Kid's rosy nipples drowned in warm, thick cum. Brayden's body had already stopped convulsing. Coach Turner stood frozen, thinking over and over about what had just happened.

A/N: The third and final chapter of this story! The prior chapters are linked below, I hope you enjoy!

< Chapter 2 (Nuit Blanche) | Chapter 1 (Fait Accompli)

-----

Mary’s heart pounded in her chest with each step. She had always had her doubts about Lyra, but something about how she was acting was off. Even for her.

Is this just another fucked up joke? Just to get me strutting around for our classmates some more?

Her tanned arms folded over her chest, her bust burrowing into them with each bounce. Making her way to the dressing room, she rummaged through her clothes for her phone. Seeing Solene’s name in her call list, she took a deep breath as she readied herself to dial.

Only for her phone to ring with Solene’s picture and name filling the screen.

She breathed a sigh of relief, tapping to answer the call as she lifted the phone to her ear.

“Thank God, Sol, Lyra is fucking losing it. Where are you?”

“I already told you, I have her. And the only thing I’m losing is my patience.”

The relief crashed just as quickly as it had begun to fly, Lyra’s cold tone chiding Mary for having any hopes of this all being a harmless prank gone awry.

“I’m gonna call the police, and then-”

“Then what? They’ll question me when there isn’t even a missing persons report? Don’t be stupid. I have time. How much do you think she’ll have?”

Mary clicked her tongue, knowing that she would have to listen. For Solene’s sake.

“I’ll take your silence as agreeing that you’re a helpless bitch in over her head. Now get your ass back in here. I’ll tell you where she is after you finish your little dance for me.”

Call disconnected.

Mary frantically scrambled back, her modesty the furthest thing from her mind as whistles and catcalls followed her throughout the club.

“I’ll do whatever you want, and then you’ll let her go?”

Mary’s teeth were clenched with irritation at just how comfortably smug Lyra was, her usual confidence faltering as she felt bemused eyes rake over her body.

“You’ll have to make a good case for why I won’t want to keep her for myself. Right now, you’re clearly not as desirable to me as she is.”

Mary huffed, the usual masses clamoring for her seemingly being everywhere other than the room she was presently in. Still, this wouldn’t be the first time she stole attention away from Solene; the two having shared everything from their secrets to crushes, and with Mary often gaining the upper hand as far as either were concerned.

“I can do things that she won’t~”

She promised, finding her voice in a sultry whisper of what could be. She had put on an act for most she slept with, and this would be no different. Even if it was someone as revolting as this.

I’ll make her forget all about Solene. She can stalk me instead, I just have to play hard to get.

Mary embraced the role of a bone being thrown to the scroungy mongrel sitting in the chair, a flip of her head causing her shoulder to flow with the cascading auburn of her hair; her palms resting against Lyra’s shoulders, tracing them with her nails as she slid into her lap.

The scant cover of her headband left only her nipples tucked away, the caramel droplets of her breasts pressing into Lyra’s; their shared body heat an unpleasant contrast to how the hairs on her arms prickled, grinding into the thigh of the same girl who had raped her. Who now threatened to take that much more from her.

When would it be enough to satisfy her?

Soft satin rubbed along Lyra’s thigh, Mary grazing it with gentle flutters of her hips, her own dreamy sighs giving her movements loft; her fingers snapping away the headband so that the buds of her breasts sprung out from beneath it, freed from captivity as she surrendered herself to Solene’s captor.

“They’re not as big, are they?”

Lyra tutted, her fingers kneading them emphatically as they filled the palms of her hands; devouring the stiffened chocolate nipples kissing them, though it was little more than a consolatory pat on the head for trying.

Mary flushed, finding herself only feeling more and more self-conscious. What if she wasn’t good enough, even after giving her everything she wanted?

Or everything she could?

She attempted to pull away, Lyra’s nails sinking into her petite breasts before twisting them; a rough tug instead bringing them closer together, her lips brushing against Mary’s ear.

“Size isn’t everything, ones as big as Solene’s would look good pinned to a wall, wouldn’t they? But yours… I guess I can leave them on your chest. They aren’t exactly much to look at.”

Both Lyra’s smirk and Mary’s glower remained hidden from the other, though Mary couldn’t do the same for how her body trembled; the coveted piece of arm candy reduced to begging for eating scraps from Lyra’s lap, her breathy voice quivering.

“Then taste them.”

She casually offered, saving as much face as she could. Though that didn’t amount to much as Lyra bowed her head, the pinch of her teeth and flick of her tongue causing Mary to whine; the pitchy moan elongating as her lips parted, an instinctive jerk of her hips corrected by Lyra’s hands cupping her sculpted lower cheeks.

“Where do you think you’re going? Either you squirm in my lap, or you get to watch Solene squirm on the floor as she bleeds out.”

“N-No, I’m not going anywhere. I’m all yours.”

Lyra’s snicker vibrated against Mary’s skin, contenting herself with savoring the taste of the campus’ sloppy seconds.

“How many people have heard you say that, I wonder? You’re nothing more than a slut, good for a night or two and then easily thrown away.”

“So use me like one.”

The sharp crack of Lyra’s hand against Mary’s ass echoed around them, scoring her tingling skin with her nails as a loveless caress down the front of her thong brought the tips of her fingers to the bottom of the fabric; swept aside from the bare lips of her slit, tight warmth gripping Lyra’s fingers as they plunged into her depths, a twist of her hand wrenching Mary’s insides.

“No wonder the guys keep coming back for more, even after all that abuse.”

Lyra purred, adding another memorable night to Mary’s litany; only this time being unable to run away from the consequences, even her rebellious tongue held within her cheek.

All she could do was moan.

“This is all you actually want, isn’t it? Being a whore as long as you get paid a little attention.”

The curl of Lyra’s fingers elicited a similar curl in Mary’s toes, a shiver slinking lower down her spine; her teeth pulling at her lower lip as the brash party girl submitted, offering a small nod in acceptance of what her sole worth was.

“That’s what I want… your attention.”

Mary whined, finding herself uncertain of if she wanted it for protecting Solene from Lyra, or if it was jealousy compelling her hips to buck into Lyra’s hand; the need of how it felt to have someone inside of her, and the intimacy of that moment - even if it were to abruptly end as all good times did.

“You’ll have to prove you’re worth it. Maybe starting with Solene… you can admit it to me. That you’re just as obsessed with her as I am.”

Mary’s amber eyes flickered, disgusted by the thought of being compared to her; that a social outcast latching onto Solene would dare to suggest them being one in the same, though that disgust stemmed from a fundamental truth.

“I’m tired of living in her shadow.”

Lyra smiled at Mary’s confession, a stroke along the soft warmth gripping her fingers only causing her to tighten. The catharsis was therapeutic for Mary, finally giving voice to the burden of competing against the very person the closest to you. That sometimes your friend and your enemy are one in the same, or at least…

That’s what Mary wanted Lyra to think.

“Then let’s take her down a few pegs… it doesn’t have to be anything too drastic, but a reminder of who’s on top might not hurt.”

Lyra whispered, the fingers buried in Mary’s snatch pulling at more than her strings as they focused as intently on Mary’s pleasure as she could wish for; nothing else existing to them outside of being perfectly alone save for the cameras idly blinking as they watched the sordid backroom dealings, Mary playing right into Lyra’s hand as she nodded along instinctively in the ecstatic throes bringing her that much closer to orgasm.

“Everyone won’t give her a second thought… including you… right?”

Mary panted out, vying for anything she could get; even if it felt like rummaging in the trash, she would wear Lyra’s scent on her so Solene wouldn’t have to.

“Including me. So we’ll take that purity from her.”

Lyra’s fingers hilted inside of Mary, massaging her depths in circles that rippled through her body from her tightened abs to her fingers and toes as they tingled.

“And then she’ll have nothing.”

Mary was breathless, unable to offer anything more than a choked scream that snared in her throat; the same girl that cratered her reputation now offering her a hand, the two of them picking up the pieces of what remained to rebuild something more than she could have ever been without her.

Indulging Lyra’s delusions was horrific, but it would be nothing compared to if Mary didn’t.

The heat of Mary’s release coated Lyra’s fingers as it doused her hand, grinding knuckles into her outer lips to sop up the mess she made; smiling as her fingers withdrew, a long suckle drawing Mary’s juices into her mouth, a lick causing it all to fade away. Lyra wiped off her saliva on Mary’s cheek, the press of her fingers against Mary’s lips sealing the secret pact with something more pronounced than just a kiss.

“I think we might want to go somewhere more private now. We just gave the old man a bit of a show, after all.”

Lyra giggled, waving to one of the cameras as Mary felt an embarrassed flush fill her cheeks. Being exposed at every opportune moment was nothing new to her anymore, and only served to further the insatiable craving for being watched that only grew with each pair of eyes offering validation.

“That’s fine, maybe he’ll bite it if he gets too worked up.”

Mary’s laugh was light and easy as she slid off of Lyra’s lap, even if to her it felt like being plunged into the ocean. She spread her perky cheeks, the two clapping together as they nestled her thong into place. Scrounging up her headband, her hands corralled her breasts into place underneath it.

“Oh, you’re ready to go just like that~?”

“It isn’t like it’s something they haven’t already seen. Plus, I don’t really want my clothes back after sitting for too long on the floor here.”

Mary stuck out her tongue with an exaggerated yuck, the two girls exiting the bowels of the seedy strip club; the seeds of Lyra being more than a third wheel to the two girls taking root, what used to be too nervous to bloom now bearing fruit.

“I guess they really are that easy, huh?”

“Yeah, if they’ll settle for someone like her, all you gotta do is ask.”

“I dunno, from what I’ve heard, you don’t even do that much.”

“Just fuck ‘em, that’s what they want anyway.”

~~*~~

The campus was quiet, even the rumors being nothing more than faint whispers that couldn’t reach them through the veil of darkness. And as with the rumors, that darkness would only spread.

Making their way to the arts building, Lyra produced a key, the only sound the creak of the door leading inside; closed and locked behind them, navigating deeper into the recesses of what served as the backstage for the shows that were put on throughout the year.

Preparation for the show to come, costumes that allowed for you to be something other than what you were, and a stage that offered equal measures of hope and tragedy.

As the door to the A/V club opened, Solene’s eyes widened with the latter; any semblance of hope dying inside of them as she saw Mary follow Lyra into the room, the two seemingly conspiring against her as she was betrayed by two of her closest friends.

She sniffled, looking down at the ground. Her hands were zip-tied behind her back, the musk of the panties she had worn earlier that day long since extinguished by her saliva as they kept her cries muffled with a strip of duct tape cinching them in place.

“It’ll all be okay, Sol~”

Lyra chirped, the pep in her voice reminiscent of the usual bounce Solene spoke with, mimicking her sunny cadence as she turned on the lights.

Solene was filled with something other than the happiness she shared with others as the room was illuminated, Lyra picking up two objects from the table; a hammer and a chisel, one in each hand.

“One for you and one for me, right?”

Lyra offered the choice between the implements to Mary, and with it tying themselves together in tearing Solene apart; equal shares of guilt and pleasure in whatever would happen to her next, neither being able to turn on the other or back on what they did.

“Plhphff Murephff!”

Solene’s wail was engulfed, cheeks puffing as she was betrayed by her own intimates to hold her pleas stuffed between them; perfect porcelain sullied by the tears staining them, an unattainable ideal for the two girls who would instead reduce it to broken pieces of what it used to be.

“Hmm, I don’t want her passing out on us. So this.”

Mary answered, taking the chisel. She flipped it in her hand, the edge of the blade facing downward as her fingers gripped the handle.

It’ll be more helpful for Solene.

Solene tried to crawl away, Lyra cutting off her escape as she was trapped between them; her eyes holding the same mournful shimmer as a wild animal that had been cornered, forced to accept the reality of her situation.

They’re going to kill me.

Mary knelt beside Solene’s outstretched legs, her ankles fastened together just as snugly as her wrists; bare from head to toe, the soft cream of her moisturized skin glowing in even the dim lighting of the clubroom.

The hue of her nipples matched the pink tinge of her cheeks, both puffy with the anxiety pounding through her veins; the hourglass of her waist giving way to a plump ass that had nowhere else to scoot to, and thighs that were works of art that now only existed to be denigrated and destroyed.

Mary’s fingers trembled with hesitation, Solene’s condition and restraints making it clear that she wouldn’t be able to escape from under Lyra’s watchful eyes before her plan was exposed. The window for escape was open as her athletic legs tensed, and all she had to do was lunge through it to end their suffering - and Lyra along with it.

As she turned her head to seize their freedom, all she found was the crack of the hammer as it slammed into the side of her head; Mary’s manic eyes discombobulated as she careened to the side, her head throbbing as she planted her face in Solene’s lap.

“I hope you understand now, Sol. This is what Mary is really like.”

She always was dishonest to a fault. She probably thought I actually believed anything she said just because I was fucking her.

“Dhun hrph uph! Leh uph ghu!”

Rather than pat Mary’s head as she bled out, Solene couldn’t offer any comfort other than muffled pleas for their lives.

“Why would I hurt you? She wanted to do some pretty scary things to you, and I was afraid of what she would do to me if I said no… but I couldn’t take seeing you hurting like that anymore.”

Lyra said softly, crouching down to snip the zip-ties around her wrists.

“But… y-you brought me here. You d-drugged me.”

Solene sputtered as the tape was ripped from her lips, her panties fished out from between her teeth to allow the drool to spill from her mouth.

“Because Mary asked me to. Would you have believed me if I told you that your bestie wanted to do this to you? She’s sick, Sol. Remember the party? She drugged you then, too. This was all her idea.”

“R-really? So you…”

Lyra nodded.

“I’ve been trying to protect you this whole time. Who knows what she wanted to do with you when you were alone together?”

“Can you call for help? Mary’s hurt…”

Lyra sympathetically nodded as she wrapped her arms around Solene from behind in a tight embrace, inhaling deeply.

“I already did, I dialed 911. They heard everything and should be on their way.”

A nuzzle of Solene’s head brought the two of them closer together, the hammer remaining tightly grasped in Lyra’s hand.

Too bad that call will come from someone else when they find your bodies.

“You know, we do have some time before they get here. Do you want to get a little revenge while we wait?”

Solene blinked, taken aback as she shook her head.

“No, like you said… she’s sick. I don’t want to hurt her any more than she already is. Even if she did something like this to me. I’ll… be okay.”

Lyra pulled back with a sigh, nodding sullenly as she stood.

“That’s something I’ve always loved about you, Sol. You’re too kind for your own good sometimes.”

Her foot nudged Mary’s head, the rattle of her breath confirming that she was still alive.

“But sometimes, people don’t deserve kindness.”

Lyra’s fingers wove into Mary’s hair, yanking her from Solene’s lap as though she were a household pest being exterminated; straddling her waist as she loomed overhead, gripping the hammer more tightly as she raised it above her head.

“Lyra, don-”

Once more, her pleas were held as meaningless as the crunch of metal against cartilage and bone filled the room; sentencing and execution being one in the same, the gavel mercilessly dispensing a warped sense of justice with each blow to Mary’s head.

“Shol… I’m… shorh…”

Mary’s fingers balled into tight fists, her nails digging into her palms; lacking the strength to swing them, to fight back against her punishment.

The bronze glow of her skin was tarnished by blood, rusty red oozing from her skull as it collapsed inward; gurgled squelches becoming puffs of mist, her face crushed into a crumpled mess of what it had formerly been.

Her mischievous smile was battered, broken shards remaining in place of the pearly whites of her teeth; the soft contours of her nose now sunken within the recesses of her face, barely distinguishable as having once been human.

All that remained was the empty brown of her irises as they stared upward, her fingers twitching in response to something she could no longer feel as even the thuds reverberating in her skull faded away to nothingness.

“Whew… now she can’t ever try to hurt you again.”

Lyra wiped the back of her hand over her brow, beads of sweat gathered along it from exertion. Turning to Solene, rather than the gratitude she had been expecting, she was only met with a look of nauseated horror.

“Why… did you do that? She was right… she was right all along about you.”

Solene choked out, unable to reconcile what she had seen against the shattered image of her supposed savior.

“Awh, Sol. I did that because I wanted to! She deserved that for what she did. She deserved that for trying to ruin a good thing.”

Lyra pried the chisel from Mary’s fingers, padding toward Solene like a cat that had brought her owner something she had hunted; wanting to be praised as helpful, being rewarded with affection for what she had done.

“You’re not going to side with that over me*,* are you?”

As Solene tried to inch backwards along the floor to create distance from herself and what remained of her friend, Lyra pounced; pinning Solene beneath her, her arms limp on either side as they were splayed outward by the collision of her back against the ground.

“I suppose this means you need to be punished too. Guilty by association and all. She chose to hurt you, and now you can’t even choose me after everything I’ve done for you.”

Lyra brandished the chisel, retribution piercing into Solene’s flesh; crimson bubbling up from around the shaft as the edge split her skin and severed muscle, hot scarlet flooding from the wound as the chisel slid free with a wet schlick.

“That felt good. How was it for you, Sol?”

The agony of her other thigh being stabbed ripped a pained squeal as her answer, her eyes scrunching shut as the chisel was yanked free; blind to the red rivers snaking down her legs, only able to feel the warmth of her blood and the burning ache filling her muscles.

“N-no more…”

Lyra’s eyes gleamed with a thirst that only became deeper with each violent laceration, laughing at Solene’s strained gasps for mercy that applauded her efforts and compelled her hands to torture her masterpiece; gashes adorning her thighs, coating them with an intoxicating sheen.

“But you’re so beautiful like this~”

Lyra cooed, spinning herself to perch on Solene’s shoulder as she reached for her friend that could no longer warn or save her.

“Lyra, s-stop. You don’t ha-have to do this…”

The chisel dug into Solene’s index finger, just above her knuckle. Solene willed her hand to move, to do anything; the ability to move her limbs eluding her, still addled by the drugs dulling her senses.

“I don’t have to, I want to.”

Lyra corrected, tapping the hammer against the pommel of the chisel. The blade descended, easily sinking downward like a hot knife through butter until it met with bone.

“Noooooouaghh-!”

Solene’s protest started as a shrill shriek that quickly tapered off into a pitiful sob, another blow of the hammer wedging the blade into her joint before a third drove it into the floor; methodically carving Solene’s fingers free of her hands one by one, blood seeping out from the stumps left behind as each twitched in the moments after being severed.

“I… I’ll… choose you…”

Solene blubbered, her lips inches away from Lyra’s after she had finished her handiwork; how frantic her heartbeat was able to be felt as their breasts pressed against one another, everything that Lyra had ever wanted within her grasp.

“I’ve waited so long to hear you say those words…”

Lyra’s heart soared, a smile of adoration spread across her face.

And just as adoringly, her hand drew the chisel across Solene’s throat to rest at its center, lifting the hammer one last time.

“Pleesh…”

Solene’s groveling was cut short by the shaft filling her throat, sucking down metallic warmth with each gurgle for breath; her lungs heavy with blood that denied her precious air, finding the last of her strength in her final moments as the nubs of her fingers clawed at her neck in a futile effort to cling to life.

She splashed around in the viscous red, floundering as she gurgled; dying retches of breath sputtering over her lips, painted by what remained of her fingers that laid scattered on the floor around her.

Her chocolate eyes stared into Lyra’s as her hands returned to earth beside her, her last words a mess of wet rasps and scratchy coughs; eyelids batting shut as Lyra snuggled up against her bosom to listen intently as her heart slowed to a stop, the two together at long last.

~~*~~

When their bodies were discovered, Solene’s hung from her punctured throat and arms, swaying beneath the projector cradle that allowed Lyra’s angel to soar one last time; pale skin tinged blue with the shades of her death, not having been permitted any chastity in her final rest by the chisel buried between her legs.

Below her was something much less beautiful, a mangled husk watching as Solene continued to dance even in death. Tatters of auburn hair saturated with a deeper hue were matted to what could have once been called a head, her formerly white thong soaked through with her failures.

All that they would be remembered for was adding two corpses to their body count, though Lyra had taken Solene’s panties as a memento along with the distinctive headband of the other.

If only she could remember her name.

Note: This is a very long-overdue sequel to this story, and while you can almost certainly gain enough context from just reading this one, I think the other story is quite fun too, if you'd like an introduction to the main characters. Enjoy!

“Okay, g’morning, everyone.” the gold badge marked with the letters FBI swung back and forth on its lanyard as Senior Special Agent, Wyatt Brawley, stepped briskly into the briefing room. It was 8 o’clock in the morning, and late the night before a new lead had come in on a pair of killers the press had decided to call the “Malheur Hunters.” The first two women to become the pair’s victims had been seemingly drugged, dropped in the woods, and hunted in the vicinity of Malheur National Forest in Eastern Oregon. At first, the investigation into the women’s gruesome deaths had been contained in the general area by the state police, but after another body fitting the same pattern had turned up in a forest north of Boise, Idaho, the investigation had been turned over to the Salt Lake City field office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, the office which Brawley and his team served. Now, they found themselves posted in a borrowed space in a police station in Boise, trying to beat the Malheur Hunters at their own game.

“Welcome to Boise. Looks like it’s gonna be home for a while. We got a new lead into the so-called Malheur Hunters.” his thin lips curled into an exasperated snarl below a salt-and-pepper mustache. None of the team was particularly fond of the name, but their leader seemed to despise it most of all.

From his neatly-polished, brown leather boots to the cowboy hat sitting on the desk in his rented office, he looked to have walked out of a Marty Robbins song or a Cohen Brothers movie, and being an avid big game hunter himself, he must have felt the name to be a grievous insult.

“It appears they’ve gone active again, and not far from here. Nothing found yet, but unfortunately there’s a good chance we’ve got a body out there somewhere. Combs, you wanna run the computer?” blue-grey eyes turned to bore into Special Agent Lorelei Combs' as Brawley moved over to the side of the projector screen.

“Can do.” Lorelei, Lori to her friends and Combs to her laconic boss, answered, nodding and striding to where a laptop sat opposite the screen. Brawley was an intense man, but after four years she had grown accustomed to the 'Death Ray,' as her peers had deemed his gaze.

“You ever gonna learn to use that?” Lori’s partner and former academy classmate, Melissa Ramos, joked, “I can teach you sometime.”

“No. No, I won’t.” the death rays seared Melissa before Brawley continued, “Now let’s get the hell on with it. It’s opening day of deer season, and these creeps have already ruined that for me.” they knew he meant nothing by it, but bodies were beginning to pile up with relatively few leads, and tensions were high.

“Right. Well,” Lori began, clicking over to a briefing she had already prepared, “Yesterday at 9:20am, a hunter claimed to have been scouting for mule deer on Bureau of Land Management plot number two-four-two.” she clicked over to a slide showing an aerial view of the land mentioned. It was a large, heavily-wooded plot of land with a couple peaks that topped twelve thousand feet.

“In a clearing, marked here:” she clicked the slide, and a small X appeared on the map, “He claims to have found this note, and he turned it over to local law enforcement,”

Click, and the slideshow progressed to a picture of a water-damaged note, the text barely legible.

“The hunter’s prints were taken by the police and compared to those found on the note. No match there, and no match to anything else found at the other killings. As well, he’s from out of state, and his whereabouts don’t line up with any of the Oregon murders. He’s been cleared and released by Idaho state police. May, thank you for being the go-between with them.” Lori turned to where May Park, the newest member of their team sat across the small aisle from Melissa. The Asian woman had only graduated from the academy the year prior. Apparently, she had done well enough to get a “real” Special Agent posting, but not well enough to avoid being stuck in the mountains right as a thus-far dead end investigation kicked into full swing.

“Happy to.” May’s lips flashed a small smile; appreciative, though not happy considering the circumstances.

“That leaves the other set of prints. They were damaged by time spent in the elements, but they came back as a Miss Zoe Carter.” Lori continued, and another slide appeared with a picture of a tall, well-endowed brunette taken from her social media, “She’s a teacher. Her prints came up in a Homeland Security database from time she spent working as a flight attendant. She’s been ruled out as having any kind of involvement in any of the previous killings, and right now she’s being considered the victim of at least a kidnapping. Her body hasn't been found yet, but she was reported missing five days ago.”

“That brings us back to…” she clicked back a slide, “The note. It reads:”

This was Lori’s least favorite part. She steeled herself for what she was about to read.

Greetings, Zoe,

If the dose she gave you was correct (It was!) The last section in parentheses was in smaller, noticeably neater print, scrawled above the continuing line of text, then it should be about 15:00 hours and you shouldn’t have frozen to death yet. This is good for us, though as you read on, I think you’ll find it bad for you.

Simply put: You are being hunted.

If, The letter continued, though the second handwriting added in a singular, (When!) above the first word, We find you, you will be shot and used for our pleasure. Dead or alive.

We aren’t watching you right now, but we do know where you are. Luckily for you though, we won’t come looking for you until 16:00. So I guess depending on how fast you can read you got about an hour head start.

Don’t think you’re hopeless though. Prey that just lays down to die isn’t any fun. This isn’t quite the middle of nowhere, just so you know, so we would suggest you start moving. It’s supposed to snow again tonight.

​

See you soon.

*The “Malheur Hunters”

​

Lori cleared her throat. It was hard to believe it was possible for such evil to exist. She wanted to believe that this could be a prank, but it matched too closely with other cases she had been working.

“Jesus…” Paul Franks, another agent on the small team muttered from one of the other tables.

“It’s the first note of this kind that’s been found, but there are noticeably two different handwriting samples present, one presenting more feminine than the other. This lines up with the profile we have for the two killings in southeast Oregon attributed to the…” she glanced apologetically at Wyatt, “The Malheur Hunters. There’s a distinct possibility that there were more notes from the other cases which were destroyed by the elements.” she paused, “What’s more important is that we have a definite area to search, and this is the first real indication that we’re dealing a man and a woman. We might be able to narrow the profile to couples, maybe even by marriage.” the brunette let the information hang for a beat before continuing, “That’s about it for the new developments. Anything you want to add, Wyatt?”

“Search-" Wyatt's voice cracked, and he rasped a short smoker's cough before continuing, "Search and rescue operations are already underway for Ms. Carter. It’s bein’ focused on plot two-forty-two, but local law’s got a helicopter they’re usin’. As well as cadaver dogs.” he added with a slightly grim tone.

“I hate to say it, but Zoe is probably dead. Lows have been in the forties the last week, and police haven’t reported picking up any panicked women claiming to have been hunted for sport. We’re going to go out and show some goodwill to the locals and take part in the search, especially since that means our Medical Examiner will be on scene first.” his weathered face shifted to where Melissa sat.

“Ramos, you can drive.” He gave a wily smirk, “Now, gear up. Doubt these degenerates are still in the immediate area, but you never know.”

Melissa made a lighthearted protest, saying something about holding a grudge over the comment about the computer, but Lori wasn’t listening. She couldn’t stop staring at the display with the note. It was such a blatant explanation of their intentions, and the way that the woman’s exclamation marks were dotted with hearts… It sent a chill down Lori’s spine. She couldn’t stop imagining what must have been going through the poor girl’s mind in the moment.

If she had known, she wouldn’t have been so eager to imagine.

​

​

Zoe’s hands trembled, the edges of the piece of white printer paper fluttering as she read. She couldn’t believe her eyes…

Only moments before, she had snapped awake with a gasp, memories hazy and body laying half on a small bank of hard, icy snow with that terrible note taped to her chest. She was scared initially, then confused, and then scared again as she read the horrible, terrifying letter.

Malheur Hunters…

It felt like Zoe’s heart was about to stop as she read the name. Her mind was hazy, but it was drawing memories of news reports detailing young women murdered and left in the woods. Hunted, just like the note had said to her.

It couldn’t be real, could it? It had to be just some kind of prank, but here she was, shifting bare foot to bare foot on a small pile of excruciatingly cold snow. All around her, short, sagey colored grass grew, with patches of snow still lingering in the shade. Evergreen trees jutted skyward, swaying here and there as the wind blew. She looked to be in a fairly shallow canyon, and as she looked through the patchy trees, she could see the other side rising at a similar pitch to the slope on which she now stood. For the briefest moment, Zoe considered calling out for help, or to tell whoever it was that had left her here that their joke was not at all funny, but she hesitated, mouth hanging open and lips quivering as fear began to rise in her.

Her head hurt, and all of her memories seemed hazy, but as the proverbial gears turned, memories began to return. She could remember the inside of a van, and… and the couple! There was a man and a woman, clearly the ones who had left her here. Zoe was absolutely certain that she had never seen them before.

God, the looks they had given her… Zoe shivered, remembering, and her knees suddenly felt weak. It was real. It was suddenly all very real to Zoe as her mind began to wrap itself around her predicament, and the world began to spin as her heart tried to escape the bars of her ribcage. Every little sound that surrounded Zoe made her heart skip, expecting a gunshot at any moment as she turned and scanned her terrifying surroundings. Even the birds that chirped around her now sounded malicious, as if acting as some kind of beacon.

“Over here! Over here! Get her get her get her!” They chirped and tittered, and Zoe’s eyes began to blur over with tears. She wanted to break down right there, curl up on the ground and just give up, but she knew they’d come for her.

Another whimper wrenched its way from Zoe’s trembling throat. She had to go, but she didn’t know where. The note had said that they hadn’t left her all that far from civilization, so she had to have some kind of chance, right?

So, Zoe took off as fast as she could downhill, adrenaline spiking and letting her momentarily forget the rocky terrain’s assault on her feet. The note crumpled slightly in her fist as she ran, and she considered dropping it, but they would need it for evidence if she got out of this. That’s what Zoe told herself, at least.

Clutching her fairly substantial breasts against her chest with her forearm, the woman shambled and scrambled down the hill, narrowly avoiding falling with each step. She ran and ran until her lungs burned and her heart was pounding out of her chest, but as the seconds had ticked on and the fated gunshot had never arrived, the adrenaline keeping her moving wore thinner and thinner. The rocky ground was cutting Zoe’s feet, and the crisp air was burning her throat ragged. She had never been the most athletic person, but even knowing that, it was embarrassing just how short of a distance she had really gone.

Doubling over, Zoe clutched her hands to her knees as the blood rushed in her ears. Tears sprung anew, joining with her sweat and splashing down off the tip of her nose, past her dangling breasts, and into the dirt.

​

​

“I’m gonna shoot her in her stupid cow tits.” Alison mumbled, hoisting the scoped semi-automatic rifle she carried up to her shoulder and resting it on a tree branch. The blonde shifted her hand back, cranking the magnification up.

Beneath where his range-finding binoculars were set against his eyes, a thin, amused smile crossed Carson’s lips.

“Four hundred and thirty-nine yards. Wind's half scale right to left. How are you going to hold?” he asked, staring at their prey as she stood bent at the waist, clearly out of breath.

“Uh… six up, four right?” she asked.

“Is that a question, or is that what you’re doing?”

“Would you just tell me??” Alison hissed, and he could hear the undoubtedly cute, pouty scowl she was giving him.

“You’re not gonna learn if I just tell you every t-” a gunshot interrupted Carson, and he watched the vapor trail behind seventy-seven grains of lead sail up in a long arc before it zipped past Zoe’s hanging bust, which Carson assumed had been Alison’s aiming point, and into the dirt behind her.

“Half target low; half target left.” he called as, through the binoculars, he watched their quarry stiffen and stare at the puff of dust that was rising from the ground, “Better adjust before she…” Zoe looked roughly in their direction, confused, and then the sound must have finally reached her, “Bolts.”

A scream that hadn’t reached them yet ripped from the girl’s lips, and she took off down the hill again. Their letter, which the girl had apparently been holding, fluttered away in the half-scale right to left breeze.

The rifle cracked twice more, fruitlessly, and Carson heard a loud groan of anger from where Alison crouched to his right.

"God dammit!" Alison stomped, and a patch of slush exploded out from beneath her small hiking boot, "Did you know I was gonna miss??" she turned to stare daggers back at Carson. He was right. She was adorable, all pink in the face and pouting.

"Call it a learning experience." the corner of his lips turned upward in a wry smile.

"Yeah? You fucking ba-?" Alison blinked, her lips false-starting over a word she knew Carson particularly hated, "Asshole? Think I'm gonna miss from here?" she leveled her rifle at him.

"Try it, bitch.'' the hollow scrape of metal over plastic came from Carson's hip as he drew his pistol and pointed it at his wife's face, "I've seen you shoot. I'll take my chances."

They held a staring contest for a few moments before their hard glares started to melt to teasing smiles. Alison's lips twitched, and Carson snapped the button on the flashlight mounted on the rail of his pistol. The pretty blonde's face glowed a radiant white as she finally had to take a hand off her gun to shield her eyes.

"Ow! Dickhead!" she giggled, finally turning the rifle away and slinging it over her shoulder. They laughed, and in another moment Carson found his wife in his arms and her lips on his. Her trim, slender body pressed against him, and he felt himself stir within his olive drab pants as their lips grappled.

"You'll get her next time. Let's go." he finally offered once Alison began to pull away, "She can't have gone that far."

​

Off they went, down the side of the embankment towards where their prey had been standing. There were specks of blood on the ground, but not enough to indicate some unseen hit that Alison had managed. Instead, it looked like her feet were probably bleeding from the terrain. She'd go downhill, taking the path of least resistance away from the threat; that much they knew. The blood trail though, small as it was, would still be helpful.

They tracked her slowly, taking their time until they were sure they were in her general vicinity. Her footsteps had grown bloodier as they went, and the prints became spaced shorter and shorter apart as she must have slowed down. Soon, it became apparent that Zoe was most likely hiding somewhere, maybe rendered immobile by the wound she looked to have suffered. So, Carson and Alison trekked back to higher ground, standing partway down a hillside as they scanned the area with binoculars.

"You know it was just the three year anniversary of all those girls getting killed in the sorority house?" Alison murmured, voice low, "I saw something online about it yesterday. They still don't know who did it. Wanna know what I think?"

"Hm?" Carson grunted.

"Some journo was saying they managed to get it out of the cops that all the girls were undressed and in states that indicated sexual activity, but they never found any, y'know, cum at the scene or anything.” she paused, “I think a girl did it."

"Oh yeah?" he chuckled.

"Yeah. I mean, no one 'cept the cops has all the details, but think: If you decimated four girls in a night, are you gonna use a condom? Hmm?" the pretty blonde's voice dropped a bit lower as Carson felt her slide in closer to him, "Especially if you didn't have the luxury of a beautiful, very helpful partner to help you… dispose of the evidence."

Her hand clasped gently, yet possessively over Carson's manhood, and a puff of air flew from his nose as he shook his head and answered, amused,

"No. No, I don't think so."

"Right." she gave him a squeeze before pulling away, snickering, "I wonder what she's like…"

Out of the corner of his eye, Carson saw his wife rest the handguard of her rifle on a branch again, peering through the scope to glass the ridgeline in front of them as well.

"Four girls and a cop-"

"Good riddance." Carson mumbled beneath his wife's words.

"-in just a couple hours, and no gunshot wounds… Must be some chick." Alison paused, then continued,

"We should get a girl that might try to fight back next time. I wanna watch you break her."

Grip tightening on the drab green exterior of his binoculars, Carson's smile grew wider as he listened to Alison. He loved it when she talked like this. She sounded absolutely bloodthirsty.

"Y'know, I bet it wouldn't be that hard to snatch some hick cop. I'm sure there's gotta be at least one pretty one out here somewhere."

"Now that's an idea…" he mumbled, still grinning. They could plan later, but for now his focus was on the landscape in front of them.

It was a beautiful day, for them at least. He doubted very much that Zoe felt the same. The Autumn wind must have tormented her, taking the temperature from perfectly pleasant to frigid. High, wispy clouds trailed overhead, at least one jet contrail mingling with the stratus, and with the sun starting to dip toward the horizon, it set a rather peaceful scene. He couldn't wait to shatter it.

"Oh, shit. Babe. I got her." Alison whispered, "My eleven o'clock. Down by the river. She's behind a boulder."

Carson swung the binoculars over to where his wife had indicated, and sure enough, there sat a pale shape quivering at the water's edge. She was half-concealed behind a large rock that had at one time rolled into the small river's path. Despite her chosen cover though, they could see how she cradled her foot, holding it gingerly in the running water. Her face was twisted in pain, sobbing silently through the clear distance. Even from here, he could see the blood on her foot. She had clearly cut it badly at some point.

"Unless you want me to shoot her in the head, I don't really have a shot." Alison whispered, and Carson nodded a bit. Only the girl's head, her left shoulder, and her legs were visible from behind the large boulder.

"She's not going anywhere. Let's head uphill a bit; get a better angle."

​

​

Billows of red washed from the four inch gash running from the ball of Zoe’s right foot most of the way down the arch. She knew that a stream of unknown origin wasn’t strictly the smart way to wash a wound, but fuck, she couldn’t even put weight on it now, and she could see rocks and little pieces of debris sticking in it when the blood flowed away long enough in the stream. She couldn’t think of anything else to do but drag herself to the water and hope that she could wash it and that maybe the cold could slow the bleeding enough that she could keep going.

With trembling hands, she reached for the torn stretch of sensitive flesh. She pulled a rock and what looked like a pine needle from the wound, whimpering and sniffling as the pain jolted up her leg in chilled, stinging waves. It took everything in her not to scream; she still didn’t know how far away they might be.

She grabbed another pine needle between her fingernails, and she pulled at it. It sent a cold spike all the up her leg and up her spine, forcing her head back and her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. As her back arched and the pain surged though, there was something else. The scream died as she finally let go. She was still panting and shaking from the pain and cold and fear, but now the hair on the back of her neck was standing on end.

Something was wrong.

Through tears, Zoe glanced around. She spun around behind her, half expecting a gun in her face, but only the slope she had half fallen down greeted her, devoid of human life. Her breathing was shallow, seeming to stay in the very top of her throat, and her head whipped this way and that, searching for whatever had given her this feeling of dread. The wind blew, barely audible over the rush of blood in her ears. It even drowned out the rush of water from the stream before her and the sssnapp that hissed and cracked through the air and through her chest.

It suddenly felt like an unseen force, like a baseball bat at full swing, had crashed into her chest, and Zoe flopped backwards into the dirt. In the distance, a small pop echoed in the wide gulch. An incredible pressure seemed to be crushing the busty, brunette woman’s chest, and she felt slick with wet, but she couldn’t manage to form a coherent enough thought to determine if it was sweat or worse. She gasped for breaths that seemed to barely come, and she flopped over, panic hijacking her brain and telling her to get up the hill and away.

As Zoe turned though, she glanced down. She wished she hadn’t.

Blood covered the ground beneath her, running in dirty, ruddy rivulets down the hill and over her hips and thighs. Her left breast was in ruinous shape, a gory, bleeding hole having been bored through the large mass of fat and flesh that she’d once been proud of.

Whimpering and choking, scared, bleeding, and maybe even dying so far from home, Zoe pulled herself up the hill as best as her failing body could manage. Her knees scraped across rocks, scratching and tearing as she dragged herself up inch by inch. It was agony, and every move felt like the hardest thing she’d ever done. Her body was heavy, wheezing and making horrid, wet, sucking sounds with every panicked breath she dragged in.

Carried by instinct, she didn’t know for how long she crawled, but it felt like an eternity as her limbs became more and more leaden. She looked up at the shallower top of the ridge just as her leg slipped. Bloody mud gave way, and Zoe found herself first sliding, then tumbling, down the steeper part of the slope.

She tried to scream, but nothing except a gurgling squeal came out, not that she could hear it. Green and blue twirled in front of her failing vision as she began to roll, but Zoe was too far beyond being coordinated enough to stop herself.

Finally, she splashed back into the bubbling, roiling stream. It was brutally cold, washing over her body from shoulders to toes. At least she had landed face up, she thought, still grimly thankful to be alive.

Zoe knew she was in a bad way though. Her hands drifted to her wound, trying to put pressure on it. Every moment cut swathes of pain through her conscious thoughts, leaving her unable to do anything except clutch her destroyed breast and stare at the sky.

Overhead, birds still sang, and the breeze still blew gently.

​

​

The shot was good enough that Carson was able to look past how his wife dawdled behind, taking wide shots of the mountains and other B-roll for her “hunting trip” video.

“I’m out here in…” Alison paused, theatrically, as she took a deep breath, “Just the most beautiful part of the world. I’m here to just… reconnect myself with the Earth. It’s so grounding to spend time out here, and I think it’s just so important to do stuff like this. That’s why I make it a priority to make physical contact with nature,” Alison panned the camera down to where she walked barefoot across the sagey grass before snapping it back up to her face and pulling it a bit closer.

“Gotta pay for any more than that!” she giggled before fading back into a wistful, reverent tone, “But it’s also why I believe in taking my food from nature as well. You don’t get a body like this eating processed food, y’know.”

She winked.

“I can’t show you the whole process, obviously, but I got the prettiest little doe… I’m tracking her now. I don’t think she went too far. It’s always something to stay mindful and respectful about, that we, as humans, as omnivores, take life to sustain our own. Obviously, if you want to be vegan, or whatever, that’s your choice, and I’m glad you live in a society where you can make that choice, but,” she pulled the camera in close and clacked her top and bottom canines together a couple times.

“We’re made for predation. We are predators, and even though we have the cognition to choose, that’s just nature.

“Anyway, don’t forget to like, subscribe, turn on notifications, and tell me how you like to ground yourself to Mother Nature in the comments. The algorithm doesn’t like me. The tech overlords directly benefit from you packing yourself away in a little cube and never seeing the sun again, so you can help me save as many as I can. Until next time!”

Alison blew a kiss at the camera before she finally shut the damned thing off.

“Ugh, finally.” she sighed, “Ow, ow, ow, ow. Alright, thanks.” the slender blonde hustled back up to Carson, grabbing her boots from where they were slung over his shoulder, laces tied together, and she plopped to the ground to put them back on.

“Glad you didn’t cut your foot too.” he mumbled, a single puff of air sardonically escaping his nose.

“Yeah, well neo-hippie bullshit is huge right now, and so is short-form content.” she snickered, catching up to walk beside Carson and taking her rifle back from off his other shoulder.

She thanked Carson, and they continued hiking down the long slope toward where Zoe had fallen. They had watched the small vapor trail behind the bullet slice through the air and then through Zoe’s chest, and they had stayed watching, fondling each other, as the wounded thing had tried and failed to escape. They weren’t sure if the girl would still be clinging to life, but they were about to find out.

After another few minutes of clambering across the rough ground, they crested a small, steep ridge, and there she was. The clear, babbling water swirled around the white flesh blocking its path before it billowed a dull pink in her wake.

“Still moving.” Carson noted, the corners of his lips pulling into a deadly smirk.

“Yes!” Alison hissed, almost hopping a bit as she started down the slope, “I hate it when they die too quick. I’m still pissed at that bitch back in Oregon and at you for shooting her like that.”

“You got impatient and made me take the shot. We were at six hundred. You’re lucky I hit her at all.” he chuckled, tempted to swing out at his wife’s ass, but not wanting to send her down the hill as well. She made some mocking repetition of the last half of his sentence, not making the restraint any easier, but he just shook his head.

They tromped easily down to the water’s edge, and Alison came to stand over her catch. Zoe lay writhing slowly in the shallow, rushing water. A small tear looked to have been opened on the top of her breast, and then a much larger one at the hefty chunk of flesh’s bottom. It wept blood at a steady, dangerous pace, and ragged chunks of yellowish fat hung from where the tumbling and deforming bullet had torn through the bottom of her breast as it had hung down from her chest.

It looked like the bullet, in its downward trajectory, had gone through the top of Zoe’s breast, out the bottom, and down into her stomach somewhere, missing most of what would be considered vital and dooming her to still be alive for what was coming. It was a perfect shot, for their purposes, but Carson wasn’t keen to hear his wife’s gloating, so he kept that particular proud observation to himself.

Hands on her knees, Alison bent down to stare at the gasping woman, beaming with sadistic glee. A flash of recognition bloomed in Zoe’s eyes, and the wounded girl jerked away from the couple as best she could.

“Ah ah!” Alison drove her foot down onto the girl’s ruined breast as she tried to wiggle away, fat and flesh deforming as blood seeped and spurted from beneath the boot. A shrill scream echoed in the forest, unheard.

“P-Please!!” Zoe shrieked, reaching up at drab, olive colored leg of Alison’s pants, but the cruel smile on the blonde’s lips only grew wider as she pressed her foot down harder.

“Scream all you want, cunt.” she spat, first figuratively, then literally, and she stepped off of her.

“Afraid there isn’t anyone to hear you.” Carson added as Alison set her rifle and backpack down a few feet up from the water, “You didn’t even make it three miles. Still another ten to the nearest road.”

“No trails; no hikers. Deer aren’t in season yet. No hunters out either.” Alison pulled a small case from within her backpack and opened it up, grabbing a syringe and a vial.

“Well, not the normal ones.”

“So you…” the blonde drew the clear liquid in the vial into the syringe with a practiced motion and turned back to Zoe, “Are fucked.”

Alison knelt down in the stream, grabbed Zoe by her long, brown hair, and she speared the needle into her neck. She drove the plunger home as their prey yelped.

“Alright, that’ll keep her going.” Alison remarked, splashing back to her things and packing everything away, “Uphill somewhere?”

“Mhmm. I think there was a good flat spot a little ways that way.” Carson nodded off behind them.

“Wh-What was that!??” Zoe shrieked, writhing in the water with renewed energy, “I- I didn’t do anything to you!! Why are you doing this to me!?”

“Grab an arm?” Alison spoke over the screaming girl, strapping her backpack down tight and slinging her rifle over her back, the sling falling into the space between her breasts.

“Yup.” he nodded. Carson splashed into the creek and took hold of Zoe’s upper arm. She screamed as he manhandled her up and onto the bank. His wife hopped over eagerly and grabbed the girl’s other arm. She gave a warm smile as they each took an arm, and she leaned across to peck him on the cheek.

With an arm in either of their hands, Carson and Alison dragged their catch up the hill one step at a time. Zoe screamed and squirmed, kicking out with as much force as her broken, drugged body could manage, but she was already far too weak to pose anything but an inconvenience to the couple.

“Stop moving, you fucking cow, or I’ll cut your tits off so you’re lighter.” Alison growled, giving her a particularly forceful tug.

Another wry chuckle rose from Carson’s throat. Truthfully, while it didn’t look like Zoe took care of herself as obsessively as Alison did, she wasn’t fat by any means. Her breasts, at least the one that wasn’t leaking blood and shredded fat, were large; E cups, as they had seen on her bra when they undressed her. Her hips swelled generously, and while she wasn’t skinny, the little rise of fatty, tender flesh beneath her bellybutton only served to accentuate her curvy, plush figure.

Dragging the wailing, wounded woman uphill wasn’t particularly hard, but it still left both of them breathing heavily. They pulled her over into a small stand of pine trees where the ground flattened a bit, flopping her onto her back unceremoniously.

Zoe wept loudly, her dark brown eyes wide and dilated from the drug she’d been given. The drug, which Alison was able to procure through the veterinary license she still held, doubled as both a vasoconstrictor and stimulant, both slowing the rate at which Zoe would bleed out and keeping her conscious for what would come.

“Sticking to the plan?” the blonde batted her green eyes over at Carson.

“Don’t see why not.” he shrugged, looking around at the brushy, evergreen trees that surrounded them.

“Good. I’ll let the big, strong man take care of the setup, and I’ll occupy myself otherwise…” she growled lustily, tossing her pack to the ground and setting her rifle down next to it. She began tugging at the laces of her boots and yanking them off as Carson set his own pack down and grabbed a hatchet from within.

The tall, well-built man stepped over to one of the trees, surveying the slender, straight branches that were within easy reach. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched his wife flop to the ground to wrestle her pants off of her legs.

“I should get, like, a forest-green dress or something…” Alison grumbled as she fought against her ass and thighs’ grip on her pants, “Every… fucking… time…” she finally wiggled her way free and tossed her pants to the side.

“Could just go nude with body paint.” he joked as he stepped around the tree, “Y’know, really get in touch with nature.”

Alison giggled as she yanked her panties off as well and tossed them into the growing pile of clothes by her pack.

“That’d be too cold in the winter, and I’d sweat it all off in summer.” she retorted, shuffling over until she knelt over their prey.

“P-Please…” Zoe whimpered, “I-I don’t- I’m scared! I-I think I’m r-really hurt!”

“You are.” Alison answered in a succinct whisper as she moved to straddle the bleeding girl’s chest. Zoe’s hands rose in some semblance of a defense, but Alison snatched her wrists away and pinned them to the forest floor, looming over her and snarling, “You should have hidden better,” with a manic smile. She shifted forward and forced her hips down onto Zoe’s face.

​

Continued in Comments

  Trent took jobs from various employers, but it was rare that he took on revenge cases. Most people were not batshit enough for murder. Not that Trent was complaining. A couple thousand bucks to take out a couple thugs sounded plenty promising to him. It helped that he knew the bar the idiots were in and it was not hard to find them there. He stalked them for about an hour before determining that Lyme and Poleo were as dumb and unobservant as rocks. Neither had noticed his staring or bothered to look over their shoulders. Hell, Trent was not the only one looking at the dumb fucks. They were on a rival gang’s turf. When Lyme stepped outside for a smoke, Trent waited only a minute to follow. He was certain neither of them would notice he was stalking Lyme. Once outside, he spotted the fellow in the alleyway beside the bar.

  Lyme was one of the Big Bad Bacteria Boyz, or 4B as more referred to them. The reason for the name was obvious: He was an anthropomorphic single-celled organism. His body was blue and, if one looked closely, they could see his internal fluids slosh about. A thick membrane that acted as skin made it so that the internal organelles were foggy and difficult to make out in detail. Lyme wore a leather jacket, though it was open and he did not wear a shirt underneath. His eyes were dark and a cigarette hung loosely from his mouth. His hair, or rather a part of the shape of his body, resembled a mop of curly hair. Trent was unsure how muscles worked for the dark blue thug, but Lyme certainly had them. His body was shaped similar to that of a particularly dedicated surfer. Lyme’s pants were tight, strained by the chiseled musculature underneath. He hardly cast a glance at Trent as he smoked.

  Trent moved up beside Lyme and grunted. “You got a lighter?”

  Lyme looked at Trent through narrowed eyes. Then he shrugged and dug in his pockets. It was enough of a distraction for Trent to make his move. In one fluid motion, Trent slipped a pocket knife from his jeans, flicked it open, and drove it into Lyme’s belly. He yanked it back out and wiped it clean on his jeans. It left behind a thick, blue stain. Lyme crippled over his belly and desperately put a hand over the hole. His eyes were wide as he realized fluid was rapidly leaking from between his fingers. “H-Holy fuck! It’s leaking! I’m leaking out!”

  His words were desperate and whiny. They were music to Trent’s ears. His orders had just been to kill the boyz but just hearing that cry made his dick strain against his pants. He pressed his hand into Lyme’s chest and slammed him back against the wall, which caused a particularly large gush of internal juices. Lyme cried out in pain. It was a pathetic sound.

  The feeling of that cell wall skin on Trent’s fingers was odd. It was thicker and rougher than any human’s skin. Not to mention how it stretched and pulled much less. It was akin to fruit leather: slightly stretchy but without any real give. Save for where Trent had stabbed him, of course. Trent slid his fingers down to the hole and ran them along it. Lyme shuddered, “S-Stop. Stop that! Don’t touch me there. You’re making it leak. You’re making it worse!”

  Lyme pushed against Trent but found that any struggle only worsened his situation. His insides had already painted Trent in blue. Trent grinned, “How about you let me plug that hole for you?”

  “What?!” Lyme pulled his hands away, confusion and panic in his eyes.

  Trent did not explain himself. He unzipped his pants and pulled free his throbbing cock. Lyme stared down at it and sputtered but he did not have time to escape Trent. The bounty hunter pressed his dick into the gushing flow and drove himself deep inside. Lyme let out a panicked sort of gurgle and hooked his fingers into Trent’s shirt. “Stop– No– Hurts!”

  That pain only made Trent more horny. He slammed himself deep into Lyme’s guts. The feeling of wet, squishy organelles warping around his rod was intoxicating. Trent could feel Lyme’s insides desperately squirming around in an attempt to stay inside. His thrust had caused a heavy splash of fluids to hit his pants but, to his credit, it did temporarily stop the flood. Trent huffed, catching his breath at the shock of oozing pleasure. “See. Told you I’d make it stop,” He taunted.

  Lyme shook his head. “Don’t– Don’t pull out. Please. I can’t take any more leaking.”

  Trent snorted. If Lyme had not spoken, he might have stayed still for a moment longer. He should not have tried to tell Trent no. Trent let go of his self-control and started to pound into Lyme’s open, gushing hole. His cock was visible as he plowed the hole in Lyme’s abs as if to were a pussy. Each thrust caused more goo to splash out. His dick sloshed and stirred the organelles, even tearing into some of them and causing them to leak into the already draining sludge. Trent groaned with pleasure, though Lyme’s cries of pain and fear were loud enough to swallow the noise.

  Before long, Trent was thrusting faster. Harder. Lyme’s abs squeezed around his cock as if they were desperately trying to hold him in. His breaths came in rapid, desperate gasps. Orgasm was building. Chunks of organelle and cell wall clung to his pants and splatted onto the ground. Tears streaked down Lyme’s face as he realized he was going to die. With each thrust, Lyme was getting thinner. Hollow. He was draining out. Lyme’s abs desperately clung to Trent, squeezing him in a death grip. It was his body’s last attempt to keep itself plugged and it made Trent moan like an animal in heat. It was as if Lyme’s chest cavity was a tight pussy.

  Trent grabbed his hips and drove himself all the way to his hilt. His eyes rolled back. The bounty hunter howled with pleasure as he pumped ropes of cum deep into Lyme’s guts. Trent’s cum was visible inside. It was cloudy white streaks that stained Lyme’s insides and clung to his cell wall. Splatters of cum flowed out with the goopy slush. Trent held Lyme close as he rode out the waves of orgasm. Then, with a long sigh, he let the cell man go. Trent stepped backward and watched Lyme crumple to the ground. Blue and white plopped out of him, as well as thick chunks of purple and green from his various organelles.

  Before Lyme collapsed entirely, Trent leaned down and grabbed him by the hair. He forced Lyme’s mouth open and pressed his dick inside. It was cool and moist, a strange difference compared to the warmth of Lyme’s insides. Trent did not spend much time in that mouth. He simply forced his dick down Lyme’s throat a few times so that his dick would be clean. Lyme choked and gagged on his cock, but Trent’s grip was too strong to allow him to pull away. His insides tasted awful, a reminder of his idiocy. Trent’s thrusts were cruel and would have cracked Lyme’s teeth if they were capable of it. Finally, he pulled out and wiped the slobber off on Lyme’s face. He let the bacterium drop. Lyme curled in on himself, unable to fight his inevitable death.

  Trent turned and tucked his dick into his pants. He had very little time to waste. It would not be long before someone spotted the soon-to-be corpse and he did not want to be around for that event. Besides, Trent still had one more bacterium to finish off. He speed walked back to the entrance of the bar and did his best to be casual with the slop on his shirt. He spotted his other target slipping off to the bathroom and grinned. Perfect.

  Trent followed Poleo into the bathroom. There was only one large stall in the room, which told Trent exactly where the bacterium was. Soft moans and grunts escaped the stall, which caused Trent to pause just outside of it. He peered through the crack to get a good look at his prey.

  Poleo looked quite similar to his comrade. He was tall and muscular, with a thick cell membrane to act as skin. His hair was shorter and straight. Like Lyme, Poleo wore a hefty leather jacket, though this one was littered with poorly sewn on patches. His black pants were skin tight and showed off the most deliciously plump ass Trent had ever seen. Poleo must have lived, breathed, and ate squats. His legs were thick with muscle as well, which gave the impression that Poleo spent many hours at the gym. Poleo’s arms were equally bulky. He could probably crush Trent’s head with his bare hands, assuming the visible muscle equated to actual strength. His eyes were thinner and his lips smaller than Lyme’s. He was shorter, though wider with sheer bulk. If Trent were to equate him to human standards, he would guess Poleo was Korean, or perhaps Japanese. What was most eye catching about Poleo, though, was his dick. It was massive. To grip it in its entirety, one would need both hands. Even then, the tip would still likely poke out of the top. It was hot and throbbing, with thick globs of something purple pulsing around inside. Trent guessed it was Poleo’s version of cum. The bacterium was not taking a leak. He was jacking off.

  Trent pressed his hand against the stall door. He was pleased to find that the idiot had left it unlocked. Trent slipped inside and locked it behind him, then stalked up behind Poleo. He whipped out his blue-slickened blade and pressed it against the cell’s belly from behind. “You’re going to cooperate, or this is going right in you.”

  “Wh– Hey! You bastard!”

  Trent pressed the tip of the blade against Poleo’s belly. It nicked the thick cell wall and caused him to panic. “Okay! Okay, fine!” Poleo stuttered, “What do you want?”

  “I want a quick and dirty fuck.”

  For a moment, Poleo was shocked. Then he slowly pressed his ass back against Trent’s jeans. “Alright. Fine. Do your worst. Just know that this doesn’t mean shit and I’m going to hate every minute of it.”

  “Sure, buddy.”

  It was not as if Trent cared if Poleo liked it. He slapped his ass and earned a delightful squeal. The sound was almost cute. Trent slipped his thumb into Poleo’s pants and yanked them down. It was not hard, given they were already lowered for him to slip his dick out. This revealed that Poleo’s ass was even more juicy without the fabric barrier. Trent unapologetically grouped the soft, squishy surface. It had that same sort of tightness that reminded Trent he was not feeling skin. Trent spread Poleo’s cheeks with a grin. His juicy, blue pucker was practically begging for Trent to invade it.

  Trent did not hesitate. He pressed his dick against the welcoming hole and was pleased to see that it was already slick. It kissed the tip of his cock and Trent let out a throaty groan. “Look at you. Already pulling me in.”

  “F-Fuck you…” Was all Poleo could manage.

  The germ was blushing, as was evident by how purple his cheeks were. Trent snorted and pushed into his ass slowly. He took his time to appreciate the warmth of Poleo’s naughty hole. The walls of it milked his cock in soft waves, rippling along the tightly squeezed appendage. Trent’s breath hitched as his hips met Poleo’s rump. He stayed like that for a long moment and relaxed into the rippling sensations. All the while, Poleo had started jerking off again. He tried to keep it small. Keep it hidden. Unfortunately for him, his massive cock was too much to hide. Small whimpers escaped his mouth between breaths.

  Trent pulled out in one sharp motion. He started thrusting in and out of Poleo’s ass with reckless abandon. Each motion caused Poleo’s cellular insides to slosh about. He tried to match his masturbation to Trent’s pistoning, but it was too hard to keep up due to the sheer length of his dick. It was not long before Poleo was unable to stay upright. His legs wobbled and he had to lean over the toilet. Poleo braced himself with one hand. He ground back against Trent’s ruthless fucking and openly moaned. “Yes! F-Fuck yes!”

  Trent’s fingers dug into Poleo’s hips as he forced him back and forth. The poor cell’s head slammed into the back of the toilet with the sheer power of the thrusts. Trent growled. “I’m getting close.”

  “Please! Please cum inside. I need to be filled with your genetic material! I need you to infect me!”

  Poleo’s words were desperate. Almost panicked. It was as if he would die if he did not get pumped full of Trent’s cum. Trent gripped his knife tighter. “I thought you said you didn’t want this?”

  “I lied. I love this. I’m nothing but your slut!”

  Trent snorted. The poor idiot. He leaned forward and, before Poleo could even realize what was happening, sliced a hole clean through his belly. Poleo screamed and clutched the toilet seat as a fresh well of blue gushed out of him. Strange purple and red chunks came with it. Some of them were blocky and others more circular. They were the smaller organelles. Trent kept thrusting, even more violent with the added benefit of Poleo’s ass squeezing tighter from terror. With each thrust, a fresh wave plopped into the toilet. It was a sea of thick blue slop and geometric shapes. That was, until a larger, blocky chunk clogged up the majority of the hole.

  “H-Help!” Poleo cried, “I’m leaking! I’m leaking out!”

  Orgasm crept its way closer until those words brought orgasm with a vengeance. Trent burrowed deep inside of Poleo and pumped out buckets of semen. The power of his thrust and the addition of cum was enough to force the large organelle free. It splashed into the toilet soup below and the rest came out soon after. What globs of sticky white that were not dumped into the toilet stained the walls of Poleo’s hollow insides. The bacterium trembled, making one last cry of pain. Then he collapsed over the toilet, ass in the air and insides ready to be flushed.

  Trent used toilet paper to wipe himself clean, then stepped backward and out of the stall. He let out a sigh of relief. That had been easier than he anticipated. Sexier too. Trent strode out of the bathroom and through the front door. He had no intention of being around when cops arrived. Trent was brought to a stop, though, when he stepped outside. Wet slapping filled the air. Sex.

  A peek around the corner and into the alleyway made it clear where the noise was coming from. Four men had found Lyme’s body and were making use of every hole they could manage to find in the nearly hollow insides. Trent hesitated for a moment. Then grinned. There was probably time for one more fuck.

Interested in dolcett erotica, I'd love to read (and maybe write) some stories, exhausted everything on reddit.

Anna was in a good mood on her way home from university. The last lecture for today had been cancelled at short notice and she was looking forward to spending the afternoon with her boyfriend. When she opened the door to her apartment, she heard loud moaning coming from his bedroom. She wanted to check and found her boyfriend in bed with her best friend Sabrina. She rode him passionately. Neither of them noticed her right away, and only when she started screaming loudly did they interrupt their lovemaking. She screamed herself into a rage and her anger and disappointment at the two of them for having abused her trust grew within her. After a few minutes of wild screaming, she left the apartment without looking back.

She walked aimlessly through the city. Over and over again overcome by anger and sadness. With tear-filled eyes, she stood in front of a kind of telephone booth. She didn't know how long she had been on the road or where exactly she was. On the booth was written "Suicide Inc." Anna recognized it as one of the suicide booths that had been set up in the city for some time. These were set up by the liberal government to ensure complete freedom for people. She thought for a moment and then decided that this would be the way for her to deal with her emotions. She opened the door and went in. The door closed automatically behind her with a quiet noise. Anna was standing in a white sterile booth, with a monitor at eye level and a light set into the ceiling. When she wanted to look around, the screen flickered and a text appeared.

"Welcome to Suicide Inc., your reliable provider for an individual and safe death. Please confirm your visit with the button. Please note that after confirmation, it will no longer be possible to cancel the process."

Anna circled the large red button on the screen with her finger. She touched it slowly and could hear the door locking behind her.

"Thank you for your trust. Rest assured that your body will be treated with dignity after your death. Please select your preferred suicide method from the list on offer.”

Four buttons with different methods of execution appeared on the monitor under the text. Anna read through the options carefully.

“Drowning – Duration: Medium; Intensity: High”

“Breaking the neck – Duration: Short; Intensity: Medium”

“Suffocation – Duration Medium; Intensity: Low”

“Smothering – Duration Short; Intensity: High”

Anna went through the options in her head. She sighed and knew that there was no way out for her. She put her finger on the button for drowning, sealing her end.

“Thank you for your selection. Please place your feet on the marked areas on the floor. You will be fixed to the floor.”

Anna stepped on the areas marked in yellow. Two metal parts snapped out of the floor, closed around her ankles and held her to the floor. The following text lit up on the monitor

"Thank you for your trust in Suicide Inc. Your execution will begin shortly"

A gurgling sound under the booth announced what was about to happen. Water bubbled into the closed booth through an opening in the floor of the booth and slowly rose up Anna's legs. After a few moments, the water was already at her hips and continued to rise inexorably. When the water reached Anna's neck, she instinctively laid her head back. Immediately afterwards, her face was completely covered in water. The metal loops held her firmly to the floor of the booth. Anna held her breath and waited. She felt her body craving more and more oxygen. She wanted to take a breath, but couldn't get any. At some point she opened her mouth and water flowed into her mouth. Anna breathed in and felt the water flow coldly into her lungs. She slowly lost consciousness and with her last thought she saw the image of her best friend on her boyfriend in her bed in her mind's eye. The raging anger inside her was stifled by the approaching eternal darkness.

Anna was gone. Her body rocked lifelessly in the water-filled cabin for another ten minutes. Suddenly the entire floor under the cabin opened up and flushed Anna's body into the sewer along with the water in the cabin. She came to lie on a pile of partially rotted corpses, having found her final resting place here.

Okay, so I did this before, but I'm currently working on practice writing. I also want to give a chance to small ideas that would be less able for a full story.

So if you have any ideas for potential prompts, hopefully short enough for just practice, I would love to work on them. I will try and post entries of my prompt journal on here if I get enough of them, and I am open to absolutely anything for these prompts.

I will love any suggestions and ideas you bring up! :)

I'm sharing my story in a couple of different places to get some feedback. I haven't written anything in many, many years, so I appreciate I'm probably a little rusty. But, nevertheless, enjoy!

At first, I heard distant sounds. Quiet and muffled. I couldn't make them out. Faraway footsteps and floorboards creaking. Voices? No. One voice. On the phone. I didn't recognise the voice, nor the other sounds... I was inside a house, but it wasn't my own, I knew that much.

I tried to open my eyes. There were sore and heavy. I squinted, then closed them again, as the light in the room forced them shut. Then, gradually, I tried, again and again, until my eyes focused and I could start to make out the room around me.

My stomach was in knots as I realised the situation I was in. I was on a bed, in a bedroom, that was not my own. I was lying on the mattress, there was no duvet. My wrists were bound with a sturdy red cord. My left wrist, tied to the left bed post, and my right to the opposite side. My legs and ankles were untied and could move freely. I had my black night dress on, then I realised that it must have been the last thing I was wearing. Did someone take me from my bed while I slept? How? Who? I don't remember anything.

Where was I? How did I get here? Who else is here, who's bed is this? As more and more questions filled my head, I panicked more. I tugged at my restraints. I pulled on them so hard that I grimaced at the pain as the rope dug into my skin, then I let go. Nothing budged, nothing loosened. My eyes welled up. I didn't want to believe I was stuck there or that I couldn't move. I tried again and again. Nothing. All I achieved was making my skin sore. I began to sob.

I looked around the room, finding it hard to focus with tears in my eyes. There was nothing I could do. Absolutely nothing. Except wait there and cry until whoever brought me here came back for me.

I don't know how much time had passed because I had no concept of time. There wasn't a clock, but I spent so long just staring up at the ceiling, filling my head with all sorts of terrifying thoughts of what might happen to me. I figured I knew to some degree - I was tied to a bed, after all - I couldn't get the idea out of my head, but I might die here. What if I did? What if...

I heard footsteps by the door and my eyes widened; my heart began to race. Who is that? What are they going to do to me? The door openened. And there she was, stepping into the bedroom. T-shirt and sweatpants. I noticed her arms and hands covered with tattoos. And as she turned her head to close the door behind her, so was her neck. She stepped over to the foot of the bed, placing both hands on the metal bars of the bed frame. We locked eyes and I felt like prey. She smiled at me, but not a kind smile. A smile that knew something I didn't. It was predatory.

"It took longer than I thought it would for you to wake up. I was getting bored."

I pulled at my restraints again, attempting to plead to the best of my ability.

"Please let me go. Please. I won't say anything to anyone, just let me go home."

She ignored me and huffed, letting go of the bed frame and walking around to the side of the bed. My heart pounding hard in my chest as I feared what she would do to me as she moved closer.

"Please don't hurt me, I ..." She cut me off.

"Oh, Shut up. I'm not letting you go."

She slid off her shoes, then got onto the bed, climbing over and on top of me, straddling my chest. My head dizzy with thoughts of what might happen next. Would she hurt me? I feared for my life.

"Listen to me, very fucking carefully. You are going to do exactly what I tell you to do. You're going to be a good girl for me. You're going to behave. And if you don't, then you will be punished. And believe me when I say, I WILL hurt you if you don't do as you're told. It's as simple as that."

She looked down at my mouth.

"Right. I hope you understand. You don't want to make me angry, baby girl...Do you?"

I shook my head no.

"Well then. Now that we're on the same page..."

She shuffled closer, a knee either side of my head, then began to pull down her sweatpants. Eyes widening, I gasped at her sudden move, and blushed at the sight of her nakedness right before my face.

"Kiss me"

I looked up and into her eyes, confused for a moment. She smirked, looking down at her prey. She took me off guard as I felt her suddenly grasping my hair in her fist from the back of my head, forcing my face up and closer to her. I felt the heat radiating from her.

"I said, kiss me."

With her hand pulling me closer, I closed my eyes. I couldn't believe this was happening. I felt my cheeks flush hot again, as I closed my lips together, pressing them against her body. She was wet. As I pulled my head away slowly, opening my eyes, I looked back up at her face for reassurance. She bit her lip, and, once more, forced my mouth closer again.

I was trapped. In that moment, I had only one option; I opened my mouth. Instinctively, my tongue escaped past my lips, pressing against her wetness. Her hips pushed forwards, so that my tongue pressed directly against her clit. She inhaled. My eyes closed as I tried to focus on what my mouth was doing. I needed to do this right, I needed to make her feel good, because it might just save my life.

"Such a fucking good girl, aren't you? Mhmm. I didn't even have to tell you to use your tongue. You know exactly what to do... Exactly what you're here to do. You know your place"

I felt a strange sense of relief at her approval. I feared her anger, so obeying her felt safe. Lost in my focus, it felt like forever, but I tried my best. My tongue flicked slowly, side to side as she kept her grip tight on my hair. I switched between licking and sucking gently. Her hips swayed, thrusting forwards to take more of my tongue.

"Mmm baby girl, your mouth feels so good..."

Her breathing started to waver. I struggled to breathe, momentarily attempting to pull away as she fought back, holding my face firmly pressed in place between her thighs. She was so wet that I felt her lust dripping off my chin.

"Your tongue...fuck! I'm going to come."

Light headed, I focussed on my tongue's movements, making sure to stay steady, willing her to finish so that I could breathe again.

"Fuck. Fuck!"

She moaned, breathless, loosening her grip on my head as she came against my tongue, legs trembling slightly. She pulled away from me and finally, my lungs filled with air.

"Baby girl"

She was smiling and panting.

"Your tongue feels fucking amazing. Fuck!"

She pulled her sweatpants back up again.

"And it's all mine. Your tongue, your mouth, is all fucking mine, to use whenever I want it."

I pleaded with my eyes, shaking my head no, but said nothing. Did that mean she really wasn't letting me go at all?

"Mhm. You are mine and I can do whatever I want with you. With your body."

She leaned forwards and kissed my neck, still breathing heavily, by my ear.

"Oh I can't wait. I am going to have so much fun with you."

Her hand moved up my side and grasped one of my breasts, squeezing it through the thin fabric of my dress. I instinctively tried to move away from her touch, to wriggle free from undeath her, to pull at my restraints, but there was nowhere to move to and I couldn't. Her hand gripped tighter, then she pinched hard on my nipple, as I gasped and let out a little wimpering sound.

"No..."

She didn't react, her hands still pawing at my body, kissing and now biting at my neck.

"Stop...please...please!"

She shushed me loudly, but I pleaded, my eyes welling up. Still, she continued, hands grasping and grabbing at my vulnerable body as I lay there, helpless. Then, my sore eyes widened when I felt her hand on my underwear, pressing against the warmth between my thighs. I blushed.

"No! Stop, please! Please don't..."

Then, she stopped and leaned back to look at me, holding eye contact as she spoke to me, sternly, raising her voice.

"Do I need to teach you a fucking lesson?!"

I was quiet. I shook my head "no."

"Right. So shut up. I will stop when I am finished with you."

I swallowed hard and as she continued to speak, tears rolled down my cheeks.

"You're mine, baby girl. You should realise that by now. You are mine now and you always will be. Every inch of your body belongs to me. These.."

She brought both hands up to my breasts, pinching both nipples hard enough for me to let out a yelp. "These are mine. And this..."

Then she wrapped her fingers around my neck, squeezing at the sides as my heart raced.

"You're mine, even your breathing is mine. And this..."

With one hand still around my throat, her other was between my thighs again, as she pressed her fingers against me once more. I panicked. I could feel how hot I was against her fingers and I felt embarrassed. I wanted to hide, but I couldn't hide anything. I shouldn't be turned on. How was I turned on? I was afraid of her.

"Oh baby girl. Fuck! Look how wet you are!"

Ashamed at my bodies betrayal, I tried to close my legs tighter but she fprced them apart.

"See, I think you were fucking lying, before. You tell me to get off you, to stop, but...look how fucking wet you are..for me."

She grinned, pulling the lace to one side. I gasped. Her fingers glided over me easily, with how wet I was.

"Look at me."

I turned my head away with shame, not wanting to.

"Fucking look at me! Do as you're fucking told, baby girl. You don't want to make me angry..."

Her grip on my neck tightened. I feared how tight it could get, so I listened and obeyed. I turned my head and locked my eyes with hers.

Her fingers circled over my clit, as I wimpered. I wouldn't give in, I couldn't. I struggled to admit it, even to myself, but her fingers felt incredible. I didn't want them to, but fuck, they did.

"Good girl." She whispered.

I inhaled again, as I felt two of her fingers pushing inside me.

"That's it. You're my good girl. Take it."

My body tensed up and started to seccumb to her touch as a shiver trickled down my spine. I didn't want to, I really didn't. Her fingers pulled out, then pushed into me again. I had to take it, just like she said. Lie there and take it while she fucked me with her hand. I felt ashamed, but her fingers felt so good, that I knew I couldn't hold back for much longer. She was inside me, filling me up, fucking me and the base of her hand so perfectly on my clit. She was right. I was wet for her, SO wet, because of her. And she really did have total and complete control over me. I desperately wanted to fight it. But I couldn't, and she could tell by my breathing.

"Come for me. Be a good girl, do as you're told and come for me."

I tried to make a sound but nothing came out, her grip around my throat grew tighter. I couldn't fight her. She won. I closed my eyes and came hard, legs trembling. Blood rushed to my cheeks and to my head, feeling instantly dizzy as waves of pleasure washed over my body.

Releasing the grip on my throat, she brought her other hand away from in-between my closing legs. I lay there for a moment, eyes closed, fighting off the light-headed daze I was in.

Then, she startled me, her fingers on my lips, my eyes sprung open.

"Open your mouth, baby"

With my eyes locked on hers, I obeyed, taking her fingers into my mouth.

"Clean up the mess you made."

Once again, I obeyed her words, still in a daze. My lips and tongue gliding over her fingers, tasting myself on her. I felt a wave of shame wash over me again, as the reality of what had just happened, trickled back into my head.

"That's it, good girl."

Once she was happy, she pulled her fingers away, then reached over to the bed-side table. I hadn't noticed the little box of cigarettes before, but she took them, opened it, pulled out a lighter from inside and started to smoke.

This was it, surely. She had to let me go now, she's finished with me. She got what she wanted from me. I perked up a little at the thought of her untying me, trying to position myself to sit up a little, but wincing as I realised how sore my arms had become.

"Where do you think you're going?"

She smirked, deliberately exhaling her cigarette into my face.

"You're not going anywhere, darling. I told you, you're mine."

She got up off the bed, leaning down to put her shoes back on and leaving her cigarette in the ash tray next to the bed.

"It's getting late, so I'm going to grab us some food. You're going to need to keep your strength up, baby girl."

She picked her cigarette back up and relit it.

"I love it when you try and escape me. When you think you actually stand a chance. It REALLY fucking turns me on."

She exhaled and leaned over, her lips close to my ear, whispering, "Actually. I think next time I will untie you. Then you can REALLY try and get away. Let's see exactly how much fight you've got in you."

Smiling smugly, she stood up and left the room. Her footsteps grew more and more distant, until I heard nothing more. Defeated, I began to cry again.

This really was just the beginning, wasn't it?

All characters 18+

Tw; mutilation, decapitation, knives, rape, necro themes & snuff.

—-

The roller door creaked open, the rusty chain dragging it up heavily as the smell of fresh coffee and stale air filled the room. Groggily he stepped into the room, closing it behind him. A coffee cup in his hand, the other shielding his eyes from the florescent lights as they lazily flickered into life.

“Rise and shine my lovies.” Geoff called, his navy overalls sticky with bloodstains and other unknown gunk. With a deep slurp he sipped his morning joe, tracing a careful finger across the machines that may dormant; for now.

Continuing around the large room he eyed the large metallic table. With a turned up nose he inspected the cool room door handle. He wiped an accusatory finger across the top of the packed shelving, bags of sausage meal and preservatives falling from it as he, like a health inspector, assessed its cleanliness.

The clanging of the additive bucket against the floor drain rattled loudly startling a scraggly dressed woman who, on Bambi legs, stumbled toward him.

“Hi Daddy.” She said enthusiastically, tiptoeing to kiss him, her right leg swung back melodramatically as they locked lips.

“Morning Hannah.” Geoff grumbled, a strand of drool still connecting the pair. Breaking it, he raised his cup of coffee to his saliva covered lips and had another drink.

“I thought I told you to lock up. Have you been here all night?” Geoff grumbled angrily.

Hannah looked down at her bare feet embarrassed, clicking her heels together nervously she slowly brought her head up towards Geoff, a limp look of innocence across her face;

“Okay I was! But I have a good reason, she was being too loud.” Hannah said pushing past Geoff to grab the cool room door, unclasping the engaged lock. Grunting, she shoved it hard on its roller wheels, the stiff, rusty wheels squeaking on the tracks as the door shuffled open. A harsh and powerful gust of icy wind leapt forth from the room, Geoff taking another swig of the piping hot liquid to counteract it.

A shaky Hannah, her scarcely covered body shaking with a chill, pushed a large metal beam with four wheels on the bottom and a harness at the top out from the cool room. Hannah pushed it with great effort into the middle of the butchery, rubbing her arms vigorously to warm up as the lump of meat hung stiffly.

Suddenly, a hard, painful slap came across Hannah’s face, knocking her to the floor with little effort. Through light tears and a shocked expression she looked over to see Geoff poking and prodding the specimen.

“Jesus Christ Hannah, I said put her in for a little not all fucking night!” Geoff said, hurling his near empty coffee cup at Hannah, it shattering against the wall beside her, hot airborne coffee catching her slightly.

“Well gee, I’m sorry I musta got carried away.” She said, her voice shaky with concern, her cut covered arms shaking as her spindly fingers ran through her patchy, crack whore hair.

“I can see that.” Geoff said, tracing an oily finger across the tied up naked girl, her body already covered with a myriad of bruises, cuts and scrapes.

“Is she dead?” Hannah asked worriedly.

Geoff ignored her momentarily, unclipping the hand restraint, lowering the naked young adult onto the nearby steel bench, stomach down. She was cold to the touch, like a corpse, her hair icy and her body stiff. He ran a sensual hand down her back, noticing innumerable cuts that hadn’t had time to heal, only sealed by the chill of the room. Thumbing between her legs he felt her cunt, like a dead fish it was cold and clammy.

Unbuttoning his jumpsuit quickly, he pulled an eagerly awaiting hard dick, shoving it inside the necro-like corpse breathing a deep sigh of relief as his eyes met Hannah’s. Thrusting he finally replied to her;

“Let’s find out.”

The thrusts and the intense jolt of insertion were enough to raise the woman from her deep, death-like slumber. Her eyes darting open and body flailing wildly with fear. The lady snapped her head back and forth as Geoff continued Fucking her helpless Cunt, pinning her down with his hands. Struggling she yelled out;

“Help! Help!”

The lady screamed and screamed until the rake-thin Hannah walked over to the edge of the bench, knife in hand. She bent down to her eye level, running the knife slowly in her field of vision. She placed the sharp blade against her tongue, cutting it slightly so she could taste her own drug laced blood. With a toothy, bloody grin she smiled;

“Shhhh.” Hannah said her excitement palpable, as her eyes slowly pulled away from the terrified woman back to the thrusting Geoff, his jumpsuit around his ankles.

The woman struggled, kicking her legs and flailing her arms but it was no use. She had no leverage, no way of turning around. All she could do was scream and even that was cut short. Geoff fucked her viciously his big smelly cock pulling her apart, ripping and tearing at her stone cold vagina, causing micro-tears and small unseen damages. He grew firmer and fucked her harder with renewed strength, pumping a thick load into her, warming her up like the inverse of a microwaved hot pocket.

He pulled out quickly after cumming, smacking her thawing ass, pulling his overalls up quickly. The lady tried to flip over but before she could she felt Hannah trace the knife along her back, but enough to draw blood. Frozen in fear, she held still, shaking like a leaf in an autumn storm. As Geoff sighed a deep bellow of relief he heard him say;

“Closest I’ve come to fucking a dead body.” Geoff said, a faint smile appearing across his aged face.

“If we kill her you can Daddy.” Hannah said, proud of her idea.

“She’s more fun to us alive Darlin’, you know that.” Geoff retorted, in a fatherly tone.

“I know I know. It’s just…” Hannah said before trailing off.

“Just what dear?” Geoff inquired.

“I want a new toy. She’s broken.” Hannah said finally, her courage returning.

“No she’s not look at her.” Geoff said, smacking her ass hard again.

“I want a new one.” Hannah barked in a bratty tone.

Geoff squinted at her silently for a moment. The seconds feeling like hours before he spoke; “Okay okay fine! But I gotta finish up with this one first.”

Hannah smiled as Geoff flipped the flailing, screaming woman who was practically hoarse from bellowing her cries. Immediately Geoff threw a masculine jab square into her face, shattering her flimsy nose.

Another strike came followed by another and another. Before long her face was covered in blood, her nose leaking like a broken faucet, the red liquid cascading down her face as her knocked loose teeth sat gurgling in her blood and saliva filled mouth.

Her hands which one fought back now lay limply down across the bench, her forearms dangling off the sides. Now on her back Geoff assessed her with vicious eyes. He looked her up and down, her face dripping red as her cunt dripped white.

“What are you gonna do to her Daddy?” Hannah said gingerly skipping over to Geoff, wrapping carefree arms around him.

Geoff eyed a few of the butchery machines and tools; saws, cleavers and other carving items lit his soul on fire. He walked the length of the room, perusing the hanging tools shoved haphazardly on hooks or into tool belts. Slowly he reached up and seized a meat cleaver in his hand. Feeling its weight he swung it a few times, the practice swings equally so he could wake up but also get his bearings.

Walking back to the steel countertop bench the woman lay panting in a pool of her blood her voice too raspy to make out.

“Now Hannah, I’ve been doing this a long time. It might come as a shock to you that there are three types of people you’ll find when looking for new toys.”

Hannah raised a curious eyebrow as she listened, jumping up on a nearby bench, crossing her legs, her tattered pants barely covering her hairy cunt.

“The first are people who are resistant from start til stop. They’re the most common. The second is the most rare, someone, like yourself who is into the pain and willingly accepts it. If they’re lucky they get a toy of their own.”

“Like me!” Hannah said, clapping happily, her gaunt, sunk in eyes shining with the little life they had left.

“Yes lovely like you. The third?” Geoff paused, raising the meat cleaver just high enough so the woman could see it, her matted and sticky hair partially obscuring her eyes.

“The third pretends it’s just not happening and tries to let it pass. Lets it run it’s course. I like them the most; because I get to bring them back to reality.” Geoff finished slamming the cleaver down against the table, going straight through the ladies shin bone, just below her knee, her left leg completely cut off.

Her gored leg began spurting visceral amounts of blood, it poured and pooled on the table and dripped down like an overflowing sink. The woman shot bolt upright screaming like an exorcised demon, before Hannah jumped down from her perch, desperately trying to pull her back down. Geoff smiled, waving Hannah back before slamming the cleaver down again, hacking through the other leg, this time further down, at mid shin.

Both legs now roared with a torrent of blood, bone, and bodily fluid, the entire steel bench top now invisible under the red mist. The woman fell back into the bench before rising back up, screeching and hollering, her pleas falling on deaf ears;

“AHHHHH AHHH OH MY GOD AHHH” the woman screamed violently, spitting her broken teeth from earlier as she spoke.

Hannah no longer tried to help, she simply watched, rubbing her puffy, needy clit as it throbbed violently. She watched with unbridled anticipation at what would come next, her hand working overtime to keep to the speed she liked to rub at. Geoff grabbed the legless girl, manhandling her and pulling her off the table, some tattered skin not fully severed by the blow, her former limbs being pulled limply behind her.

Carrying her near dead body, her harpy-like screams near constant. Geoff slammed a hand into the ‘on’ button of the meat grinder, forcing the ladies right arm down the tunnel. The sounds of crunching bone and grinding flesh pulled Hannah to the brink of ecstasy only being pushed across by the wailing cries of the tortured woman.

Her whole body seized up, the orgasm overtaking her as she shook, her legs wobbling and clit pulsing, a gush of squirt spraying out of her, saturating the bench she was sat atop. Despite her incredible orgasm she kept rubbing, watching the depravity unfold as Geoff painted the room with her blood and tears.

She watched as the woman, who was on death’s door still fought surprisingly, her snot, saliva, blood and guts covering Geoff from head to toe. He spat out mouthfuls of blood that poured onto his face as he carried her, the woman’s arm mangled beyond all comprehension, bones hanging within sinewy meat like stubborn candy in a piñata.

Finally, he slammed the woman atop the bandsaw, pulling his trusty handgun from his back overall pocket, Hannah watched with saucepan eyes as she heard Geoff order;

“Suck on it you bitch!”

The woman’s eyes fluttered in all directions, the blood loss would take her soon. Yet, to Hannah’s surprise she opened her mouth, her screams still coming but no voice to carry them, her vocal cords beyond fried.

Rubbing furiously, her clit almost sore from the passionate attention she gave it, Hannah watched as the unnamed woman fellated the barrel of the gun, sliding she thick, dick-sucking lips, up and down the forearm.

Geoff hit the ‘on’ button of the bandsaw, the blade jolting to life, spinning devilishly. He shot a quick look over at Hannah as he pulled the gun out of the toy’s mouth. As Hannah felt herself grow to the precipice of pleasure once more Geoff shoved the ladies neck hard against the blade, dismembering her head from her body.

Like an estranged mother and son the head and body now separated, the body limply dropped away and fell to the floor with a undignified splat, the head, with glaring eyes still open, jostled on the machine as it slowly powered down.

As the immense noise of the show died down, the room covered in blood and all manner of other human liquids, Geoff stepped toward the middle of the room, brushing his shoulders, cleaning himself of her skin and gunk almost casually he wiped his gun against the only clean portion of his jumpsuit the safety still off.

Pulling herself from her viewing station Hannah walked over to the bandsaw. Picking up the ladies head she pulled her y shirt off, placing it on the bloodstained floor. Kneeling atop it, she cradled the ladies head carefully, combing her hair out of her face like a child does with a doll.

“I hope our next toy is as beautiful as she was.” Hannah said almost philosophically.

“I bet they will be.” Geoff replied, slowly pulling the hammer back on his pistol, careful to avoid the noise.

Hannah placed the head down carefully, reaching now for the torso. She pulled it to the centre of the room as Geoff rounded behind her.

“Look Daddy, her cunt is still intact. You said you wanted to fuck a dead body, now is your chance!” She said almost enthusiastically, giddy with herself.

“Oh I think I’ll get another chance.” Geoff said slyly, raising the pistol up to the back of her head.

“Whe—-“ the words stopped abruptly as the bullet tore through her skull, blasting the other side of her skull wide open. Limply and unceremoniously she dropped, her body still faintly twitching in its march toward eternity.

Unbuttoning his overalls as he had done before Geoff flipped the former accomplice onto her back, her naked tits flopping around, her hair matted with their victims’ blood. With a brutal, animalistic hand he thumbed her cunt, feeling it tighten still even in death. With a hearty chuckle he smiled;

“Hehe…still warm.”

Thanks for reading! Please let me know any feedback you have; critiques, comments and praise all welcome. Thanks again for reading xx

“Can I choose the guest this time?” Selina asked Audrey as the Succubus was about to hit the speaker. She had already shifted the arena to look more like the city square of Gotham City, even including a constant rainfall. Hearing her announcer give that question was certainly something she did not expect.

Not seeing any issues with it, Audrey just shrugged and told her, “Choose quickly,” And went to address the crowd, a smirk on her lips as she did so. With that, Selina scanned the crowd for the perfect candidate as Audrey spoke in a booming voice, “Welcome again to the Multiverse Tournament devious and depraved! We almost have our full 2nd round roster. Let’s see who of these next six chicks and dicks will move on in this blood bath.”

When the following cheer had ceased, she activated the first gate and continued, “Coming in at a measly Rank 2 in power level, she is a psychologist turned psychotic. Sidekick to the Joker and Girlfriend to an earlier contestant, you’d be surprised just what can come from her. Now, from what I hear, you’ll be thoroughly engrossed in her appearance, so please send your regards for Harley Quinn!”

A naked, pale woman came running out as if she was a cheerleader, spinning around the pouring rain to show the audience every angle of her. Quinn’s makeup was as spot on as ever, and tattoos could be seen running down her body. One special one was just above her cock, the words spelling out ‘Brucie Breaker’ in bright yellow letters that illuminated from her skin. She cackled to the sky without a care, the only thing on her person being the very bat she used to crack her Batman’s skull open, and a belt full of knives she swiped off of Red Hood’s corpse.

“My my, what a perfect Gotham Day for some ass kicking and ass licking!” Harley squealed in her signature voice. The absence of her Hyenas clearly didn’t deter her from sounding like one. In fact, upon closer inspection, there was clearly more going on than just the insane clown being nude. There were red little beads clipped to her tits, similar ones shoved in her cunt, about five to be exact. Along with their buzzing, she also had a Hyena tail protruding out of her butt, the plug for it massive and stretching Quinn out completely.

It wasn’t much of a guess to assume that all those vibrators were at maximum settings. She was going the complete opposite route as Shand. Instead of refraining from sexual pleasure and punishing herself for being distracted, Harley was embracing the thrill of orgasms while standing. If she was this focus while her pussy and tits were being overwhelmed, imagine how she would be fighting…

Regardless, she made her way to her starting point, getting down on all fours and howling for the next contestant’s gates to open. Audrey could barely contain herself seeing the display, but kept going into her announcement, “Anyway, the next one somehow is ranked even lower. Her combat experience is minimal unless inside a cockpit. Gonna be hard for her to win without her murderous droid, but if she could snap two Jedis necks by just teasing them, maybe anything is possible. Welcome to the tournament, Hera Syndulla!”

The green Twi-Lek rolled her eyes at the comment, but marched forward in her baggy clothes into the dark city circle. Try as she liked, nothing could prevent the rain from matting all her pilot gear, soaking it and weighing her down substantially. At least her regular pistol was waterproof, as it was her only means of combat. She didn’t even want to be here. She just liked tempting Kanan and Ezra by getting them on their knees for her only to twist their necks with her thighs the moment their faces touched her pants. Audrey just snatched her before she could try it with Sabine, and now she is here.

Her green tails were flowing with the gusts of wind, and she looked at her competition with unbothered eyes. Harley was still on the ground, but had stopped howling to laugh at her opponent, “Hey Green Bean! If I eat you, will you give me vitamins?”

“If you try,” Hera scowled, charging her pistol and aiming it at the clown, “You’ll be eating this instead.”

“Haven’t tried guns before,” Harley chuckled, standing up and brandishing her bat. She licked her lips so Hera could see, “But momma always said to try it before you toss it. Unless you want to be tossed yourself!”

“You’re fucking crazy,” the pilot groaned, getting in position.

“Thanks for the compliment, Greenie!” Harley cheered again, turning into a pose herself. She had her bat behind her back and it made her small tits bulge out a little more. They waited for the announcers to tell them when to start, anticipating the chime of the bell.

Audrey turned to Selina for confirmation, who nodded. The succubus smiled and offer Kyle the intercom, which the robotic Catwoman used to declare who she chose, “And for the latest guest to meet their fate, I present to you,” A spotlight shined on a young woman in a blue jumpsuit, who had a Ripper in hand, “Lucy McClain!”

Once Audrey had eyes on Lucy, she portaled the timid vault dweller. She fell from the ceiling and landed right in Selina’s lap, the receiver of the gift getting a wink from the demon before she began the countdown and yelled, “And with her, prepare for the game to commence in five…” She counted down while Lucy giggled at her sudden situation.

“So, here is what’s gonna happen,” Kyle plainly started, giving Lucy time to just appear like she was listening. She paused to hear from the girl, and Lucy nodded, showing she was paying attention, “I’m gonna fuck your organs right out, and you are going to enjoy every moment. Got it?”

She could feel Lucy shiver in her lap, a frail but encouraging smile popping onto her face as she simply giggled her anxiety away. With pure enthusiasm, she nodded and cheered, “Okie Dokie!” And began to unzip her jumpsuit. When she did, Selina spared no other explanation, surging forward to meet her victim’s lips. Her tentacle dildo went to work immediately, and the other parts of Selina’s cybernetics joined in just as the bell rang out.

Right away, Hera is quick to the trigger, firing away in the direction of Harley. She aims for vital organs, wanting this battle to be over quickly. She knew she wouldn’t last long if it did. Turns out she didn’t learn her lesson from other gals with blasters before her, because she just stood still and shot towards the fastly approaching clown. She was cackling and dodging almost every round she was dishing out, and the few that did hit were nowhere near lethal, and Harley just took the pain as relief.

Her trek through the rainy world was a little chaotic, having to keep balance on slippery asphalt, but she quickly got the hang of it and reached her opponent. Harley had her bat ready, and swung it right into the Twi-Lek’s stomach. She knocked the pilot back a bit, and knocked the wind completely out of her. Standing tall, she wasted no time in giving the first big blow to Hera’s mind. With her hunched over, she was the perfect height for Harley’s white cock.

Wrenching around Syndulla’s head tails, the futa sends her right down. The open mouth was too enticing, and Harley took full advantage in slamming her entire length inside. It caused Hera to get disoriented and allow the clown to fuck her face like a rabbit. At the same time, Harley also slid the pilot’s goggles off her head, letting them fall onto the street. Her wide eyes and crazed smile spoke volumes to the crowd at her enjoyment of the short throat fuck, as if she wasn’t about to vocalize herself, “Geez, always heard you tail heads were good toys! Did you carry your throat genes from your mommy? Ha!”

The mention of her dead mother made Hera crash back down to reality. Instantly she tried to cave her teeth down, attempting to bite the hideous clown’s member off. But Harley saw it coming, and was quick to remove her length, leaving Hera feeling somewhat empty. But she shook off those feelings and threw a fist right into Harley’s jaw. The obnoxious girl didn’t dodge the impact, Hera not realizing or not caring that it was what the futa wanted. But anyways, it gave her some distance from the clown, and she tried another round of bolts towards her enemy. Though this time, she went running in one direction while shooting at her.

As she did, a drone came out of the sky to Harley. It took several shots for her and granted her some type of grenade. The robot soared back up to the donation box after giving the tool to the clown, who without hesitation pulled the pin and threw it at Hera.

She expected it to take a few seconds, but it went off the moment it hit the ground. Suddenly, Hera couldn’t control her body. Bright lights like a disco ball flashed around and she could feel herself moving sporadically. It was enthusiastic, the way she was flowing around, and it only took remembering a few embarrassing moments alone to understand she was doing a type of dance. She was hopping, and clapping, and overall unable to fight back. She slipped just as she could feel control return, which would have caused her to hit the pavement if it weren’t for Harley swooping under her.

She pushed the twi-lek up and gave her the boost needed to stay balanced, just to slice right where she hit before. Hera managed to bend away enough to where the blade didn’t gut her, but it still ripped through her clothes like butter, showing her green stomach a little bit. And as she leaned back, both the crowd and Harley could see it gave a glimpse of something underneath those baggy clothes.

“Whatcha got hidin’ in there, girlie?” Harley asked with a giggle, pushing forward to give another swing. This time it was aimed at her arm, and again, it merely scraped Hera’s flesh, but left her sleeve in tatters.

“You won’t get the chance to know,” Hera spit, shoving her blaster right in the clown’s face. But then Harley surprised her by pressing her temple against the barrel, giving her enough of a shock to lose her guard again. Harley pushed the gun away with her forehead, the shot meant for her brain ending up just cutting one of her pony tails loose. In that blink of an eye, she headbutted Hera. Hera was taken back once again, and she opened up her chest for another attack. With one swift swipe, Harley cut vertically this time, shearing the collar to the cut at her abdomen.

The pieces of the pilot’s gear clung to her body from the rain, but even from that sliver, Harley could swear she saw the shine of metal. But as she was trying to come up with guesses, Hera lifted her leg up and kicked Harley right in the chest. Almost precisely where her glimmering was, she struck Quinn in just that spot.

But just like with before, Harley only used the hit to adapt. She dropped her bat on the ground and did several somersaults backwards, tossing a dagger as she went. It almost reached Hera and she braced for what it would do when something came in between her and the projectile, making the knife ricochet and land in the mud.

A drone had appeared, and it used the donation to save Hera. The donation in particular, a specially crafted shield made out of the strongest metals on earth. It was round, and when the drone gave it to her, her arm fit perfectly in the straps. There was a star in the middle, and stripes surrounding, alternating red and white. With her new protection, she felt more confident in pushing forward, feeling as other blades struck the shield and bounced off.

Harley didn’t expect nor plan for that, so the best she could do was attempt to maneuver. Right as Hera was about to collide, she jumped up, grabbing the shield at the top to help her flip fully around the Twi-Lek. Landing behind her, she took another knife from the belt and sliced through the back of Hera’s apparel, as well as ducking when she spun back around. Sliding in between her legs, Harley also attempted to cut open the girl’s pants at the crotch. And while she was successful, she heard the telling cling of metal on metal as she slit the fabric, her eyes confirming what she heard with the intricately carved steel that peeling back Hera’s pants revealed.

Her new found curiosity was about what the pilot was hiding under all that. She faced Hera again with her blades, and prepared to clash. But this time she wasn’t quicker to the punch. Hera continued the momentum she had and swung the shield right into Harley’s side. The clown absolutely felt that, and her legs didn’t stay on the ground as she went flying towards a crashed car, landing on the windshield and getting glass in her back. But Hera’s strategy was two-fold, as with the reckless twisting, she lost her footing with the slippery concrete, and with nothing around to save her, she dropped to the ground on her back, grunting hard.

With the contestants both reveling in the stunned positions they laid in, taking a minute to breathe, Selina was nice and busy. It wasn’t even a minute into the fight before she extended saws and cut through Lucy’s flesh, continuing to kiss the dweller as she removed her jumpsuit to offer easier access.

The cut went from the center of Lucy’s ribcage down to her clit, care being made to not damage the internal organs yet. Only once the saws stopped spinning, did they part lips to soul gaze. Lucy’s innocent appearing eyes laid their sights on the robotic red lenses of Selina’s. It was hard to tell where the machine stopped and the woman began, but either way, Lucy was good to have sex. Even if it involved dissecting her.

“Welp, you went through all that effort,” Lucy smiled at the Omega being. She shook herself to feel the folds of flesh give no effort to being manipulated, “Open me up, doc!”

Omega Kyle did not need the encouragement, but nevertheless, she proceeded. Using small claws, she latched onto the sections of skin she carved into, slowly pulling them apart. Unveiling the bloody curtains, Lucy could feel her organs get exposed to the air around her instantly, cooing at the cold touch. She rubbed herself along Selina’s thigh as the Catwoman investigated. The underlying muscle still kept the fleshy sacks from spilling out entirely, but Selina was confident that she could still puncture it precisely enough to avoid that possibility for a while.

With her tentacles, she sent them inside the entrance she made, their sharp ends making it easy to punch through the muscles. And her hypothesis was correct, the body held. And she was quick to send the other three tentacles inside, curling around Lucy’s intestines with a surprising tenderness. But of course, once the experimentation was over, that changed quickly.

Lucy was mewling like an injured puppy through the entire thing, stomaching the agony as her stomach was about to be impaled by her captor. She couldn’t help but churn at the way the tentacles were slithering inside her, claiming her organs as theirs. She had just enough control of her body to lift her hands up and grab her peeling tits, the fat barely held together, “Squishy!” She chirped, which was immediately followed by a sudden moan as one of the snakes in her speared her womb from the inside.

Selina let the tentacle slither through Lucy’s baby maker unopposed and further down. In just a few seconds, the strange feeling of a length coming out of her pussy appeared. It was thick, brushing against her sensitive insides before emerging. It slithered its way out of her cunt, then looped back to tingle Lucy’s clit.

The sensation was more than enough to bring the dweller to orgasm, collapsing into Selina for comfort. Comfort her cold body could not give. As they took a quick breather, Harley and Hera seemed to be almost done with theirs. Hera managed to force herself up, the pounding on her sensitive tails painful. It was like her hearing was gone for the moment, a dull ringing ever present as she watched Harley roll off the car, landing on her feet with only minor stumbles.

Grabbing her bat loosely, Harley shook it around to taunt the twi-lek, “Haven't gotten me yet, Broccoli head!” She cried out, limping her way to smack Hera’s jaw out. Hera was in a deep level of pain, and she was utterly shocked by how much the clown was willing to ignore. She didn’t get a full view of the glass, but she could tell it was all over and digging into the futa’s back, making blood ooze down in a way that made her opponent somehow more of a badass.

She takes her chance and swings one handed at Hera, keeping the girl’s attention on her bat. Of course, Hera was quick to raise her shield, and the blunt weapon was no match for the indestructible metal. It shattered into pieces and Harley, instead of appearing shocked, smiled wider than Hera could have guessed. With the shield angled up to stop the bat, Harley was able to take another knife out, and dive under it. She sliced through Hera’s belt swiftly, Hera bringing her shield down on the clown a little too late.

Harley ducked out of the way, and watched as Hera’s cargo pants dropped to her ankles. The pilot gasped as she took a look down, seeing her secret revealed. Beneath her pants, she had a metal bikini on, similar to the one Leia wore a few matches previously. Her bare legs felt the rain showering on them, instantly making her more confused on how Harley wasn’t getting hypothermia. She was distracted again, and her inattentiveness was about to catch on.

Harley had a drone called in to her while Hera was desperately trying to cover herself up. She even dropped the shield in an attempt to lift her pants back up, or pull them all the way off so she could move. The donor provided Quinn with a dildo, gray-colored and with a button at the hilt. Harley had seen these before, and her heart soared as the drone went back to the person who just gave her the grand finale. The only issue was where to store until she could use it. It was a dangerous move, which might have made her even more convinced to do it, but she shrugged as she slid the fake cock into her ass, letting it penetrate and widen her rear pleasantly.

With that out of the way, now she could spend her time taunting. Looking at the blatant slave dress, Harley cackled, “Wow! Guess you can’t judge by faces, then. If only I had money on me to throw,” she smirked, racing towards Hera. The twi-lek tried to do something, anything to stop the oncoming attack, but when she tried to throw a fist, Harley just jumped over her and grabbed onto the slit she made in Hera’s top, “I can already feel it! Let’s show the world how ashamed you are to be a needy slut.”

Her tongue drew out that last word, and when she giggled again, she yanked the cloth in opposite directions. True to the pattern, the moment her suit was ripped apart, the audience got to see the bulging rack Hera had stored behind the steel bra. It was matching to her panties, and with that, few shreds of her dignity were left. But Harley seemed hellbent on erasing more. With little regard for her opponent, Quinn pressed herself tightly against Hera, and used one hand to slide the covering of her groin away, just enough.

When she had Hera, just the way she wanted, she held down the alien’s arms and aimed her cock, diving straight into Syndulla’s tight asshole. And the effects were immediate. Hera cried out, moaning whorishly as her rear was invaded. She had thought the vulnerable and sensitive ass’s of her people were just a myth, or was something that didn’t affect her. But she was proven wrong when her mind went blank with Harley’s vigorous thrusts, stretching her rectum with incredible strength.

“All it takes is some anal play? If we weren’t gonna fight to the death, I’d give you my number,” Harley cooed as she fucked Hera while standing, the green alien helpless to resist the utter relief that was the shaft prodding inside her. She could feel the vibrators on Harley’s tit’s press into her back. The pilot didn’t even stop Harley from tearing the rest of her top away, the bullets tickling Hera’s spine in just the right way. She even for a split second gave in and closed her eyes, lowering her guard to a pathetic point.

Harley did not cease her barrage, going as fast and hard as she could to extract all those beautiful sounds from the woman. She could just imagine how wet her pussy was, or how her eyes were rolling in pure bliss. She almost wanted to see how far she could drive Hera crazy like this, but this standing position was getting obnoxious. So, in an attempt to combat that, she was about to push Hera forward, hoping to cause her to trip in her jeans and fall to the ground, when Hera sent her head violently back and struck Harley on the nose.

The clown pulled back instinctively, uncorking her member from Hera’s backdoor. With the room between them, Hera dropped on her own accord and snatched the shield again. Flipping over she felt the impact and heard the crack of Harley’s fist when she struck the shield. Her hand caved to it, several fractures being created from her attack. In her stunned position, Hera kicked Quinn in her shin and made her fall right onto her shield. Pushing her body off and onto the floor, she was quick to get on top of her, pinning the clown to the flooded concrete with her hair all splayed out from her loose tails.

“Cocky bitch!” Hera grunted, smacking Harley with the shield again when she tried to get up, She hit her head on the ground and blacked out momentarily. But that was more than enough for Hera. The twi-lek got a dose of something from a donor that hindered her weakness to anal, but it only lasted up until now. With her ass pressed against Harley’s cock and the drug wearing off, the pilot couldn’t focus. She shuffled her boots off so that her pants could leave her legs, then straddled that thick rod with all her might.

Another donation drone came to her just before she lowered her puckering hole down, with two things in its grip. One, a gauntlet from Iron Man, and an intense aphrodisiac. The only thing was that the drug was inside the repulsor, so when Hera put it on, a syringe went right between her thumb and index finger, injecting the chemical directly into her blood. It sped up her heart rate. Her pupils dilated. And her ass never felt more sensitive. The small acute amount of pain she endured from the needle washed away into pleasure, and she instantly slammed her hips down, taking Harley’s entire shaft in one go.

Her scream rang out through the arena, a crazed moan that signaled her claim on the cock below her. She began to ride it, up and down while pretty Harley slept, with the repulsor aimed at the clown in case she woke up. What exactly was going on through her mind at that moment, well… cockcockasscockcockinmyasscockasscock! That was the few selected thoughts that were plunging into her head, repeating over and over with few other signs of cognitive function.

While Hera was slamming her ass down and threatening the safety of Harley’s pelvis, Lucy herself was experiencing maddening despair. Selina had pried the girl away, refusing her embrace to watch what she was going to do to the dweller. She hadn’t damaged many vital organs yet, mostly her reproductive system, which her tentacle reverse fucking it was still ravaging her useless pussy. Her other tentacles were doing more than being idle though.

One prodded the back of Lucy’s right breast, stabbing into the fat and letting it collide inside her. McClain churned and wiggled around as she was suspended in the air. She could feel the appendage move in her tit and how another was following her spine up. Selina was near silent with her mutilation, interested in only seeing and hearing the pain that Lucy was in.

The way her feet jerked with each punch into a fleshy wall. Her arms stiffen whenever the tentacles brush past another organ, not sure what the target may be. And the giddy expression that Lucy held as she did her best to not cough up blood. Wide eyes that were almost hidden behind her hair getting in the way.

Selina looked at the hair with some curiosity. Another experiment to inflict on this toy perhaps? Her eyes glowed red as she sent a small pair of lasers to Lucy’s scalp. She burned away the roots of the dweller's hair, with no regard to how the heat would affect Lucy. She was vocal in her screams, feeling as her brown locks fell from her head. Selina’s cutting skills weren’t the most precise, so instead of being completely bald, there were small tufts of hair and single strands still standing up, but her shoulder-length hair and bangs were simply a memory now.

And once again, Lucy climaxed in her pain, the secondary burns only increasing her enjoyment as she could feel the tentacle enter her skull, slithering about gently. There was one more besides that one heading up, but going out Lucy’s throat and out her mouth, soaked in blood. All the timid dweller could do was grin wide as they invaded, with Selina’s gaze never going past intrigued.

Harley woke up feeling her cock on fire. She wanted to open her eyes to get an idea of what was happening, but she remembered quickly that it was probably not a good idea. If she wasn’t dead yet, then that must mean Hera is keeping an eye on her, and she couldn’t afford to be caught alive like that. So, she waited, and luckily, she had just the idea of what to wait for.

While Harley faked her sleep below, Hera was gradually losing control. Her mind was breaking from the drug and her species' own flaw. They blended together and she was at that point of no return soon. And with her incredible effort, she also pushed the clown that far too. Hera arched her back and howled to the heavens as she came, burying the dick in her to the hilt as it spurred to life. The clown had to hold back her exhausted groans when she blew, careful to only open one eye very carefully to observe.

Hera was not looking at her, nor did she aim the repulsor at her. She was using that hand to grope one of her tits, removing any guard she may have had to feel the warm cum fill her anus. Nothing was going to stop her, and she was enjoying every moment. Which was exactly what led to her downfall.

The first thing to happen was another drone came down and met Harley, dropping a syringe in her arm. It had a green fluid that Harley knew all too well on these streets, replica or not. Adrenaline surged, and her body seemed to grow in size just a bit. Even her cock that Hera was impaled on was expanding, causing the twi-lek to only twitch more at her ass being ripped up. Then, the clown acted.

Unlike the addicted Bane, part of Harley’s mind was still in the game as muscles bulged across her body. And she knew what to strike first. She shot her hand out and yanked the hand with the repulsor, then the one with the shield. Spreading them out, Harley watched Hera’s daydream come crashing down before she squeezed down on both limbs. Interlaced with crunches and sickening cracks, Hera’s cries of pleasure shifted to terror as both her hands were ripped off her body.

Her bones stuck out of the spurting stumps when Harley pulled the pilot off her dick, and flipped her around. Harley trapped Hera by wrapping her legs around hers, pinning her to the floor. By this point, neither tail from Harley’s head was secure, her multicolored hair damp and clinging to her grinning face as she felt victory coming. She used one hand to hold Hera still from above, while using the other to grab her finale. She removed it from her ass, and with some work, plugged it into Hera’s.

With it secure, she held Hera by the throat, making her pay acute attention even when the metal dick was probing her, “If you wanna be a stripper so badly, let me give you your pole,” she snarled, before clicking the button at the base of the toy. She moved away quickly, a cone out base taking that space in an instant. Hera felt the dildo go deeper. No, not deeper, extended further-. She didn’t have time to think of the last part as the spear that emerged from the dildo shot right out her mouth, the remains of several of her organs clinging to it and going back down her throat. The force it gave was enough to knock the venom-induced Harley away, lifting the twi-lek about three feet off the ground before stopping.

The rain got in her eyes, but that pain was nothing compared to the mere seconds before her vision was fixed to look up. She couldn’t even see the crowd that screamed Harley’s name, that humiliated that of Hera’s. She died only glaring up at the cloudy sky showering her bloodshot eyes.

The moment her heartbeat ceased, Audrey rang the bell and went back on the intercom, “And for the third to last battle of round one, please give your allegiance to Harley Quinn!” she yelled, relishing the way the crowd roared out in cheer. Bats were tossed around the benches, Jokers had their heads blown up, and several twi-leks became more of a target than normal. Many were even testing out that very analslut feature of their biology, not caring what went in their ass, whether it be human, horse, sword, or gun.

And as they did that, Lucy’s eyeball popped out, the tentacle rummaging around her brain emerging from the socket. From her guts to her eye, it twisted and turned, feeling a surge being brought up. Selina finally let out a sound resembling a moan before each of her tentacles burst, spraying their loads outside the rapidly dying woman.

Her other functioning eye was wavering from the punctures and internal damage, and she could only take so much. Locking her sights on her murderer, she had nothing but relief showing when she saw a bright red flash from both of Selina’s eyes, just before they carved into her brain and melted the last of her life away.

Lucy went limp as the top of her nearly shaved head was blasted to pieces. The tentacles were the only thing to hold her up. They remained inside for the duration of their climaxes, and as soon as they were done, they retreated, right out the way they came. They formed back to the dildo on Selina’s waist and she turned her seat back towards the game before the body landed with a thud.

Down below, she could see Harley, who was starting to lose the venom, tempting fate by climbing the corpse of Hera. She was fack fucking the girl hard, constantly brushing against the point spear with the possibility it would stab her. She looked into those cold green eyes that she stole the light from, and all she could feel was lust. Her balls clenched as they rode the spike sticking on her mouth, a sense of giddiness knowing that one wrong move, and this could have been her. The prospect was intense to process, and just the idea of her own pale body suspended by this shaft with Hera sucking her off instead did her in.

She filled the throat of her enemy in her delectable cum, laughing in the rain as she did. A stream of white flowed, and after she dispensed, she pulled away to see the results. Hera’s mouth was nearly full, from both the spear and the new cream swimming in her mouth. The sight got Harley wet, and she felt the need to at least reward the audience for teasing them. So, she lowered her cunt down on the point of the spear, intentionally letting it pierce her clit and draw blood. She only did one bounce, but that was enough to get the crowd reeling.

With her life now in the game for real, she hopped down from the pole, grabbed all the discarded weapons, as well as Hera’s goggles to put around her head. She felt like it would be fitting to wear an article of her opponents. With them fastened to her head, she turned back to get one last look at the twi-lek. Clad in her dancer’s bikini, she hung limp with two gnarly stubs for hands. Her wet cunt, dripping and unsatisfied. And in the rain, her body looked shiny all over, making Harley almost sad to leave such a piece of art. But alas, her hands were full, and she was excited for her next battle. So she got over it quickly so that she could walk back into the cell with pride, with all her recovered weapons looking so bright and colorful on her body.

Roll-sama's words echoed in her ears as she was dragged unceremoniously through the halls, her legs dragging limply on the floor, her failure complete as she twitched or convulsed occasionally in the grip of the guards that held her.

Roll tried to take refuge in the fact that at least she had made the attempt. She tried to tell herself that she'd made her play and lost, and that she had nothing to fear because she had nothing left to lose. Except that she knew the failings of her imagination. She knew that the monster was certain of something to be excised, and she doubted that it would be as possible to rebuild as her limbs had proven.

The kick to her face had begun to bruise and swell, but one eye was enough to see too much as the great bulkheads marked with 'RECOVERY' in ichorous scrawl ground ponderously open at their approach. There were no lights within, save those illuminating the contents of large, slowly bubbling tubes set in the walls and what little spilled outward to accentuate the darkness. As her heart quailed she shuddered at the realisation that, against all she had come to believe, in a place where there was no denial that each and every wall was no doubt bedecked with evidence of one atrocity or another, it was infinitely preferable to be able to see them.

As the doors closed behind her and her conveyors, the deepening gloom allowed her to see the silhouettes of... of something occupying the tubes, and it was no comfort as they drew closer for them to become more clearly humanoid in shape.

The first ex-woman was largely unrestrained as she floated in the tube, beating on the surface desperately, kicking and clawing at the uncaring glass. Roll almost relaxed, believing that perhaps it was simply for storage of those whose fate was not yet decided, lifting her face to try to offer the occupant the comfort of a smile, lie though that would be. There was no face to return the expression. Betwixt helm and neck was a single white sphere, the woman's entire head an enormous slit-pupilled eye. Roll recoiled, flailing in the guards' grip as the thing redoubled its efforts, something with no mouth should not be able to scream so distressingly. As Roll watched, unable to bring herself to look away, the reason for its screams became evident, a great claw descending into the tank and grabbing it by the back of the head, allowing a small crab-like unit, four legs framing a body consisting mostly of a large, blunted spike, to attach itself to the front edges of its helmet. The crab jittered back and forth as the thing's eye flickered around, desperately trying to avoid the spike that was getting closer and closer to predicting her movements. When it matched smoothly for two flicks, the crab surged forward, spearing into its pupil, making the thing's whole body seize up almost as though electrocuted, beginning to twitch spastically. As Roll noticed the bubbles' motion change and realised the crab was vibrating, it dawned on her. The heavily muscled vertical slit dominating this woman's face was not an eye.

Roll turned away sharply, her eyes darting back and forth in the gloom, looking anywhere for solace to save her from the horrors of the pit into which she had been flung. There! That sounded like moans of pleasure! Coming from a recording in front of a headless statue that rocked and shook... and leaked. Over there! That one wasn't struggling! Because it was a sofa made of little more than a gargantuanly inflated pair of tits sticking out of a lexan block containing the bare minimum of additional body threaded through with life-support tubing. Roll gave up looking, and the guards sat down on it, pulling her with them, evidently waiting for the doors opposite them to open. She hated herself for finding it comfortable, while she had come to accept that she simply had to endure the pleasure that their changes to her own body had forced upon her, a gnawing disgust sprung forth within her at any enjoyment, no matter how basic, of what these monsters had done to others.

The tubes flanking the door were almost pedestrian compared to the ones she had been dragged past, oh, their occupants were covered in scars and sutures, endlessly violated by mechanical tendrils assaulting any potentially erogenous zone with Roll-sama only knew what manner of atrocities concealed by the barely intact flesh. Their eyes gouged out but left open, gaping sockets flapping loosely in the flow of the tanks' fluids, their breasts pulled outward by enormous gripping cups fastened over them... despite their mutilation, Roll couldn't shake a worrying sense of familiarity, that she should recognise them somehow.

The doors opened. The guards lifted her again towards the elevator thus revealed, and as she passed between them memory stirred enough to piece together the twisted templates beside her. Meiru. These two navis had been hacked and twisted and stitched into perverse rag-doll parodies of Meiru.

Roll threw up. Her stomach was empty, not having actually eaten so much as reassimilated her former mass, but she threw up anyway. She hadn't thought about Meiru in... what was it? Days? Weeks? Months? What was time here, what was time to someone who had nothing reliable to measure it? She'd stopped because she couldn't bear it, could not deserve to think of the one she had failed so totally.

The elevator passed slowly deeper, but was open to let the occupants see the labs they passed. Roll saw a navi, too distinctive to be an off-the-shelf, but not a custom she recognised, strapped to a slab as she had been once, only sobbing as the targeting laser for the unholy needle slowly drew a bead on the bridge of her nose. Roll was grateful for small mercies when that lab passed out of view just as the needle moved forward, but the scream went on for so very long, long after it became instead a gurgling, drowning wail as no doubt the navi's lungs filled with her own melted cranium.

Roll twitched as she tried something else she had not in ages. No, she still couldn't shut herself down.

The next was in its own way worse, a woman's ribcage levered wide as a plethora of mechanical arms used tanks of an unidentified white ooze to slowly build more and more upon her, more arms, more breasts, more genitals, more faces, twisting the one into a legion of flesh, for what possible purpose Roll could not guess.

Eventually the elevator stopped, and the guards carried her out into a distressingly clean room, as always banked by rows of consoles, in the centre a simple metal bed, a broken navi lay discarded in one corner, covered in a maze of strapping. She contemplated resisting as they lifted her into place and began strapping her down, but what would be the point? She doubted they would even do her the dignity of taking steps to counter it, so little could she hope for against them. So straps closed about her shoulders, her throat, wrapped across her arms and chest, her waist, far, far too tightly through her groin, and several about her legs. She wasn't going anywhere, and hated herself for succumbing to the conditioning from which this made her phallus spring to attention.

She trembled as they left her, not leaving the room, but going to fetch some tools. A chisel was laid against her forehead, its blade flat against her flesh, and a hammer filled her vision. The crunching screech of the metal of her helmet and skull as the hammer hit was the loudest sound she had ever heard. Had they been capable of speech, her guards might have informed Roll that her scream had in fact been louder, but she didn't hear that. The chisel was left in place, holding an agonising gap as another was placed just where her helmet once again met her head, wiggled just slightly into the gap the first had created before the hammer fell again. Again and again Roll's world filled with broken glass and her eyes with tears as they worked their way around her skull, eventually achieving gap enough that huge, metal fingers wormed their way under the lip of her helm, pulling now purely by main force until with a monstrous tear it came free.

Roll sobbed emptily, the pain enormous beyond feeling, a dull echo of numbness where sensation should be, a terror in its absence even if all there would be to feel was pain. She barely noticed the torch passing around the lip of her gaping skull, sealing the wound so she wouldn't lose any more blood than she already had, what had leaked during her helmet's removal now dribbling out to drip into a drain in the floor below her.

And now the guards really left, as Roll heard the elevator begin its slow progress upward again, leaving her apparently alone to stare into the lights of the surgery. She had her answer, at least, as to what she would lose. She snivelled, wondering how she would even know if it had begun, she certainly couldn't feel the air she knew her brain was now exposed to. What were they going to do? Install some... something, leave her a hapless watcher shunted aside by whatever puppetry they would install? Fear made her pull against the straps, the thought of an eternity devoid of meaning, of the utter emptiness of being made nothing more than a passenger in flesh no longer her own. The sound of the last seepage of the blood trickling down the side of the bed filled her world as images cascaded through the mind she knew not how much longer she would have.

She cried as she wished she could somehow enjoy the time she had left with her neurons in the configuration she was used to, but they were being sorely difficult about such a proposition, instead dedicated wholly to driving her to the pinnacle of agonised fear conjuring the possible atrocities they could make her body commit while she was dragged along for the ride. But eventually they stopped, oddly at the same time as the blood. Apparently both were empty.

Empty was evidently the wrong word to think, her mind flashed first to the 'statue' she'd been taken past on the way here. Could that be her fate? That they'd just scoop everything out into a pile on the floor to go down the same drain as her blood, and there'd be a little machine sitting at the top of her neck to make her walk and breathe while they used the gaping bowl of her skull to hold snacks, or pamphlets, or flowers. The thought of her body woodenly patrolling the halls as an ambulatory flowerpot was more than a little maddening.

She'd screamed herself hoarse by the time the doors opened again. She heard the menacing clicking of Roll-sama's heels, and a more muffled clumping that she could assign to the nurse as they passed briefly through her field of vision.

“I'm definitely looking forward to seeing how you plan to do this, Doctor; your proposal certainly goes well beyond the boundaries of previous procedures.”

“That's why I designed it, Mistress. Boundaries, constraints, these are things for you to place upon others, not for their iniquities to place upon you. And just Nurse still, if I may. I've not finished formal training, after all... and the Doctor is still over there.” Roll twisted in terror to follow Nurse's gesture, confused to find it pointing at the crumpled heap of a navi in the corner. “Besides, I've little doubt that it was her misperception of rank which allowed her to... make the mistakes she did.”

“As you like, Nurse,” Roll-sama said with a giggle. “I shan't pretend to be an expert in these technicals, however. Where should I be to watch at a minimum of obstruction?”

Nurse smiled, curtsying before moving to the control consoles, awakening the thousand-armed steel demon of the surgery, “I've arranged for an observation booth just above, Mistress. While there's little risk of any stray fluids in this procedure, I suspect you may wish to sequester yourself from the vapours, they tend to be somewhat clinging.” Somehow a promise of fluid containment was not especially comforting for Roll.

Roll's eyes followed Roll-sama's departure as the machinery began to move toward her, trembling as the grasping clamps took hold of the edges of her gaping skull, her ears straining, ever so barely making out the tiny squelching sounds as the needles threaded their way amidst the folds of her mind. A heavy mask rotated around to hover above her, and she caught only a glimpse of Roll-sama appearing in the window above before it descended to claim her. She stared into darkness, feeling heavy pressure in a circle around each eye, a short tube invading each nostril the tiniest amounts, and a strange apparatus prising open her mouth to fasten itself around her tongue.

“Commencing motive-map generation.” Nurse's voice cut through the darkness, and Roll felt more than heard the hum in the machinery above her, like a thousand locusts about to descend upon her flesh. Her body began twitching without her control. One muscle at a time fired in response to commands that came from somewhere other than her. Moving methodically through her body, straining her against the bonds. Her shoulders, her arms, her wrists, each finger, each knuckle, each and every fibre of flesh around each and every bone tugging one by one inside her, growing into larger and large groups until her body was attempting to make coherent motions, lift this leg, flex this arm, and then her body went limp, control over her movement taken from her entirely.

“Mapping complete, override active,” Nurse worked for a few moments, “induced paralysis confirmed, motor nerve controls isolated from purgatives.”

Part of Roll was glad that she had no idea what Nurse's words were supposed to mean. It made it easier to keep the fear from being all she had, all she was, she still at least had thought as they were taking her body away from her more than ever before.

“Now for the fun part.”

Light filled her eyes, out of which suddenly came the image of one of the heavy guards she'd fought in the invasion so long ago. Her body sized against the straps as she reflexively tried to ready herself to fight it, a crackle came from the machinery she was connected to, and a warning tingle spread through her body. Though she could feel she hadn't moved, she saw as hands, her hands, came up into her field of vision to defend herself. And when the guard struck, it hurt, oh how it hurt. It was confusing, to say the least. In whatever sort of virtual system that was clamped to her head, her thoughts were responded to as she tried to defend herself and fight back against the guard, though with each motion that strange tingling grew stronger. It was exhausting, the stress and fear of her position and the panic of this strange combat, working her rigorously through every trick she could think of, nothing worked twice, and she wanted to stave off that pain as much as possible.

It was no use in the end. The assault never let up, and eventually she ran out of moves, unable to do any more than flail ineffectually as blow after blow landed, crushing fists and punishing blades, tearing spikes and horrible blasts shredding into her. Eventually it stopped, but only for a moment before there was a jolt of power from the machinery, her body sized in her bonds like a fish beaten against a slab before settling her back into that completely physically relaxed state. The guard came at her again, and again the blow landed easily. But not this time because it knew all her tricks, instead that she couldn't think of how to react other than to try to get out of the way. She wanted to fight back, but she couldn't imagine what to do. And so all she could do was endure again, until finally it stood back in the visor, and faded away back to white.

How could they have done it? Roll had no doubts that it was at Nurse's hands she had just lost all knowledge of how to fight. And she probably stood to lose more. Images began to form of the various networks she had trawled through, be they just computers within the school, to stores online, to places she'd guided emails to... each one bringing that tingle anew as soon as she recognised them. Netto's computer, Meiru's computer. The surge came again, and the images were gone. Thereafter she saw passages without sense, locations without meaning. But deep down she knew that they were the same as she had just seen.

Memory after memory was stripped from her, desperately she cast her mind about for anything she could cling to, smells and sounds alike used to prise open her deepest secrets, expose them as soon as she thought of them and strip them away, her tears blurring the images as they were trapped inside the visor.

She tried to fight back, to refuse to acknowledge what she was shown, but it was to no avail, they had progressed too deeply. That which they were now here to flay from the bones of her mind she could not ignore. They showed her a blue-armoured warrior, smiling gently in her direction. They showed her a happy young girl, pink skirt and short red hair bouncing in time as she skipped.

Nurse smiled at the readout in front of her, watching as Roll lay motionless on the slab. Mental activity was at nearly nothing. Responsiveness at even less. “Phase one complete,” she announced, flicking a handful of switches. Several of the straps released, as well as the mask, but Roll made no motion to try to escape, in fact no motion at all. The heap in the corner, however, stirred. The Doctor's husk crawled across the floor, lurid animal grunts issuing from behind the cold steel bar stretching her jaw nearly to the point of snapping. Fleshless joints screamed as she moved, metal grinding against metal, she reached towards Roll, the commands from Nurse's console giving her once again motion and purpose.

Roll saw none of this. Or more accurately, she saw both everything and nothing, every photon passed her eyes, but not a one conveyed meaning, not a one stirred thought. The husk took hold of her legs, lifting them, twisting them back and forth as though envious of her proxy victim's smoother motion, and then bent them back, pulling them up over Roll's head, steadying her there while her other hand gathered a small set of cables. One by one, Nurse's fingers upon keys guided Doctor's hands upon flesh, driving the tips of the cables into Roll's spine, simply gouging their tips through flesh between vertebrae, pushing them into the all-important bundle of nerves at their centre. This work completed, giving the system further access to direct control and manipulation of Roll, the Doctor's hands shifted, one moving to Roll's buttock to hold her in place, the other to Roll's flaccid member.

The Doctor's hand began to stroke, her fingers stretching, lengthening as the knuckles separated, transforming instead into metal tendrils. Unlike pain, this reaction did not need a mind to guide it, but a mind it began to build.

Feels good.

The only thought Roll could articulate from her situation was the pleasure from her genitalia, redoubled as the Doctor's other hand shifted much like the first, these fingertips delving into the folds of her vagina, ever so softly circling round the pucker of her anus.

Feels more good. Want more good.

The doctor wiggled Roll's hips, shaking her legs and allowing her enormous breasts to be squeezed between them around both shaft and hand. Her cock swelled to its fullest, the tip brushing against her lips.

Feels good. Want more good.

Roll needed no further prompting to open her mouth, to let the Doctor push that little bit harder, curl her spine that little bit further to press her penis into her mouth.

Feels good. Smells good. Tastes good. More good. More good!

Roll licked and sucked greedily, her body quaking under the Doctor's ministrations. It did not take her long to orgasm, but this did not sate the beast of lust that was all the mind she had. As was intended. The Doctor's hands continued, as did Roll's mouth. Roll felt tingly, and new thoughts arrived in her mind, sparing her the effort of thinking them.

Mistress good. Serving good. Toy good. Roll-doll is Roll-doll. Roll-doll is toy for Mistress Roll-sama. Roll-doll feels good. When Mistress Roll-sama feels good, Roll-doll feels better.

On and on it went, simplistic thoughts slowly built upon each other into steadily more complex, though truly not all -that- complex shapes as Roll-doll's body was driven to climax after climax. They hadn't included instruction on how to swallow, however, and soon her mouth began to overflow, her own issue flowing freely down her cheeks.

Acrid smoke rose into the air as a tiny red hot iron excised a small portion of Roll-doll's brain tissue, then withdrew only briefly, returning to cauterise a bit more. A laser secured the chip that another manipulator had deftly inserted into the hole. This repeated a few more times in quick succession, and while the bin from which these chips were being taken was small, it was not all that small. It would repeat many, many more times.

Nurse stepped away from the console, stretching her arms and turning towards the observation window. “It can run on automatic for a while from here.”

Roll-sama nodded from above, “What actually is happening now? I wanted to minimise addition of external processor material.”

“The chips just house motor control functions,” Nurse shrugged, “They don't change in content whether on chip or flesh, and on chip they can be connected to a remote where you can enable or disable any subset you choose at whim. And of course, that they're being positioned in such a fashion to replace the nerve clusters that were most active while I was mapping and obliterating her memories, it makes it that much more impossible for a relapse to occur.”

Roll-sama frowned briefly as she considered this, then nodded, her smile returning, “I see what you mean.” Though she continued in a much harder voice, “But remember to ask me before you change something I've specified. I believe you already said you don't want to repeat the Doctor's mistakes.”

Nurse nodded, not particularly cowed, but acknowledging the censure. “As you command, Mistress.”

They watched in silence as the machines continued, save for a briefly amusing interruption when the chip which contained the capacity to swallow was installed, Roll-sama laughing as Roll-doll spluttered briefly before guzzling what would have once reviled her.

And then it was done. Nurse returned to the console, guiding both the machinery in withdrawing from Roll-doll's skull and the Doctor's hands in withdrawing the wires from Roll-doll's back before uncurling her to lie on the slab. They undid the remaining straps and shackles, the Doctor now lifting Roll-doll's shoulders to help her sit up as the last piece came down. It was not the helmet that had been Roll's, but a new one, clear plastic that would show off what had been done to her to even the most casual of glances, save for the bulky metal lump that would go just above the back of her neck, from which issued forth a new ponytail.

Roll-sama waited in the observation chamber and watched Nurse guide her toy to its feet, slowly working it through basic exercises to verify integration between the chips and the new mind they had been placed within. And then leading it to the door that would bring it up here to her.

Roll-doll smiled eagerly as she beheld Roll-sama almost squealing with happiness. “Oh Mistress Roll-sama! They said that once Roll-doll was a bad toy, Roll-doll is very very sorry!” her voice was vapid, bubbly, as though only the bare minimum of thought occurred behind it. Good. “How can Roll-doll serve Mistress Roll-sama to make up for it?”

Roll-sama smiled cruelly. “To start with, you are not 'Roll-doll',” though she had instructed Nurse to program her as such, it was explicitly for this test, which Nurse had not been informed of, “You are just 'Doll', you are not worth more name than that.”

Doll nodded, “Yes Mistress Roll-sama. Doll is just Doll.”

“Good. Then show me how sorry you are.” Roll-sama sat down, one leg extended, certain the hint would be enough.

It was. Doll practically threw herself to the floor, crushing her tits against the deckplates as she knelt, pressing her face to the toe of Roll-sama's boot. Doll closed her eyes, licking and kissing at the glossy plastic almost frenziedly, her ass shaking in the air, waving her throbbing cock lewdly back and forth beneath her, each breath a tiny, gasping moan, as though Doll was lost in lust merely at being allowed a task.

Again and again she licked and sucked, as though trying by pressure of lips and tongue to polish coal into diamond, twisting her neck nearly to the point of breaking in order to get her tongue into the uppermost crevice of where sole met heel, but not ground. Doll rose slowly, vigorously mouthing Roll-sama's ankle. When at long last Doll's tits met toes, hands went to work, mashing round, soft flesh against hard pink, stroking as though a buffer rather than an achingly sensitive organ, paying no mind to the physical pain, only the all-consuming pleasure of obedience.

When at last she reached the top of the boot, gasping for breath, panting with exertion, Roll-sama was amused at the piteous groan of longing it elicited as she pulled her leg away, rolling her eyes as she shifted on the seat, “You did a good job, Doll.” She grinned, able to see how exhausted Doll had become, “Now do the other.”

Sometime later, Roll-sama stood, herself feeling quite satisfied. “The procedure was clearly a success, Nurse.” And now, she did not voice as Doll dragged itself to its feet behind her to follow, I am the only Roll. “Well done.”

She took delight in tormenting her new possession to pass the time as the elevator slowly rose. A slap here to set pendulous breasts swinging. A pinch there to make it jump at the assault upon its rump. A slow dragging of a metal-tipped crop along the underside of its shaft to fill it with lust and terror both. Yes, Doll would make a fine toy.

She led it from the elevator into the exhibit hall, sitting upon a low bench. She rubbed the bench's rump slowly, delighting in feeling its horrified shudders as her other hand reached for another toy, a bright pink phallus covered in nubs and ridges.

“Come here, Doll. I think it's about time you use what those were invented for.”

Doll minced over to the bench, giggling vapidly, “Which is, Mistress Roll-sama?”

Roll rolled her eyes, taking pleasure rather than pride in the honorific for the first time. “Fuck the bench, Doll.”

Doll complied eagerly, needing no second exhortation as she plunged the length of her shaft into the terrified furniture's vagina, beginning to thrust her hips with wild abandon.

“So tell me, Doll. What does it feel like?”

“It's so very tight, Mistress Roll-sama, but very slippery at the same time.” Doll found the tip of the toy Mistress Roll-sama was holding in front of her mouth, and did what came naturally.

“You know,” Roll remarked, “this particular bench was modified in such a fashion as to squeeze her vagina inside and out to the point where, if fucked, the friction and pressure would utterly destroy her genitalia, they'll actually pretty much disintegrate when you pull out, and you're being lubed by her blood.”

Doll didn't actually stop fucking, just fellating the toy to ask, “Should that matter to me, Mistress Roll-sama? You told me to fuck her, and it feels good.”

Roll laughed, as soon as Doll had finished talking, it had gone back to licking and kissing the tip of the vibrator, “No, I supposed there's no reason it should.”

Doll's eyes wandered at random as she continued exulting in her pleasure, taking in the details of the room, the other furniture, this or that display of what Mistress Roll-sama could have others turned into, finally coming to rest on a pair of upright tubes flanking the door of the elevator they had come out of. She couldn't fathom why they attracted more of her attention than any other display, in each tube floated a woman, hacked and twisted and sewn into some ragdoll caricature of a young girl with short, reddish-purple hair. She pitied them briefly, with eyes and ears hacked off and simply sewn shut, mouths simply stapled around the tubing that fed them and kept them alive, limbs broken beyond all recognition, they were certainly pitiable in their state. But Doll couldn't conceive of why they should draw her eyes so. She couldn't understand this nagging sense of familiarity they instilled in her.

She closed her eyes, so they couldn't distract her from obeying Mistress Roll-sama. Whoever they reminded her of couldn't possibly be important.

~~~

This concludes the story that I commissioned, hope you all enjoy it.

Roll awoke and stretched on a field of soft grass under warm sunlight. She momentarily flinched, her hands quaking as she brought them before her eyes. Of… of course it had just been a nightmare. Some place that horrific, that debauchedly deranged could only be the product of diseased imaginings, could never be real. She refrained from pondering the implications that she had imagined it. Meiru had gotten her to run some suspicious applets, it was just lingering after-effects that made her have such dreams. And yet, though here she was, safe and sound back, no, she had never left the rollicking countryside Meiru liked as the theme for most of her computer, Roll couldn’t shake a jarring sense of dislocation. Something was wrong.

She turned towards a flash indicating another navi entering the computer. She smiled. Well, whatever was wrong, he could certainly make it right. “Rockman! Over here!” she waved while calling out to him.

He appeared to ignore her even as he approached, saying, though clearly not to her, “Intruding program identified. Proceeding with mission.”

She looked around worriedly. An intruder? Here, of all places? But she couldn’t see any sign of one. “What are you talking about, Rockman? How can I help?”

He continued to ignore her, “Buster systems online, battle chips received. Ready to eliminate.”

She ran up to him, grabbing his arm, “Answer me, Rockman! What’s goin-” She did not expect him to backhand her, hard, with his buster and send her sprawling to the turf.

“Shut up, virus!” he spat, “You are not Roll, and have no right to speak to me the way she did!” He fired, catching her full in the back.

She screamed in pain, clawing at the grass to regain her feet, turning towards him in disbelief to see him charging another round. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’m me, Rockman!”

His response was a charged shot into her collarbone, vaporising a large swath of her outfit and sending her pitching over the crest of a hill to tumble uncontrolledly down the far side, regaining her footing just in time to leap to one side of the next shot. “Why are you doing this? Why won’t you talk to me? Doesn’t what we’ve been through together mean anything to you?”

For a moment he hesitated, a crack appearing in the facade of detachment as he shuddered, “Do you think this is easy? That this is the way I want things? What choice do I have?”

She waited, gazing to him longingly, “But why? Please, tell me why…”

He stiffened his arm again, charging quickly, “Who could love what you’ve become?”

Roll froze, transfixed with terror by his words, launched backwards as the impact tore her torso from her limbs as though they were held on by no more than string. Even as she saw her arms hanging briefly in the air before gravity took them, saw her legs standing without her before collapsing into gobbets of suppurating meat and the hollow, foetid bone of flesh long dead, a terrible pressure came into being below her stomach. As she struck the ground, the hated phallus thrust forth, sprouting from her flesh and tearing through her tattered clothes, throbbing with a sickening hardness and spraying her neck and face with its claggy ichor.

She lay there, helpless and undeserving of help, crying weakly as Rockman stepped into her field of view, and then his buster obscured it.

“In Roll’s memory,” he whispered, “I will delete you quickly, monster. I will always remember you as you once were.”

A blaze of light presaged the darkness of forever.

Roll awoke. She writhed wearily, filled utterly with despair as blind movement found four quite close metal walls, containing a profusion of small holes of which only a handful, far, far above her admitted any light.

Tears did little to assuage either the dark or the despair, but were all the company she had. Sleep had forsaken her, and she it, terrified by the prospect of another dream somehow worse. However long she slumped there she could not even begin to guess, time being of little meaning in the deeper silences of the mind, but eventually the whirr of machinery began the creeping progress of light down the walls of her vessel. After a minute or so, it came to a halt, and the door was opened by her grinning captor. Roll stared up at her blankly. The giddy, almost childish grin seemed so utterly the opposite of the demeanour she’d seen before that she had no idea how to react to it.

“That’s everything I wanted to put into motion towards world conquest today. Now it’s time to play!”

Ah. Greet it with the same intensity of unbridled terror as anything else. And yet… something was different. It took Roll several days to put her finger on it. To put something on it, anyway. She refused to cry over thinking about fingers. She certainly had plenty to distract her from contemplation, as Roll-sama was certainly no less vicious, indeed, as Roll quickly found, once she was more surely healed up from the surgery, she was quite often flogged or kicked or trodden upon as often as she was fingered or groped until no amount of shame she could possibly feel could stop her desperate screams, could give her even a moment’s pause in begging for the removal of whatever currently impeded her orgasm, be it physical or by code.

But any significant injury was treated as soon as Roll-sama had taken her pleasure, and the area around such treatment left to heal cleanly, even if the rest of her was abused all the more thoroughly to make up for it. It often suited Roll-sama’s fancy to return her to her box soiled, soaked and thoroughly smeared with the evidence of her usage to stew over-(for lack of any real sense of chronology)-night in her filth, but she would then find herself shortly after waking conveyed to a thorough, almost affectionate bathing. True, it tended to involve either being pumped with soapy water in places and volumes beyond all reason, or being held under the froth just to the edge of passing out, but taking things to the very edge was affectionate where Roll-sama was concerned, there was plenty of decor which said clearly that the edge was usually the place to speed up and careen over, rather than pull back.

And that was it, really. In Roll-sama’s eyes, other toys could be replaced. She could not. Which meant there was an answer to the question Rockman had posed in her dream. There was someone who could, and would value the freak, the helpless perverse worm she had become. The one who had chosen to make her that way in the first place. A realisation which made Roll-sama’s seeming giddiness all the clearer. She had seen it in Meiru or Net or any of their friends with this new toy, that new video-game, that same enthusiasm. Only now she was that doll, that action figure, that poster, that phone. Her life depended on keeping that new toy enthusiasm from waning. What she might, or might not ever do with the life she was trying to safeguard was irrelevant. Life is the sort of possession where it’s the having that’s the most important thing.

So she threw herself into her new role. Whatever Roll-sama demanded of her, she drove her utmost to do, forcing herself to overcome the fear or revulsion it brought, using this to expand her uniqueness among those Roll-sama controlled, promising herself that it was only until she somehow had a chance, that it was doing what was needed to live, nothing more. She knew Roll-sama could tell what she was doing, could see the self-loathing in her eyes at each new degradation, was taking pleasure in twisting events so that Roll would push herself past limit after limit, debasing herself further.

In time obedience simply became habit, and hesitation left her. Be it chest or back, eyes or ears, ass or mouth, vagina or penis, every part of her body responded immediately to Roll-sama’s demands. Eventually time came to a particular evening, in which Roll was currently trying not to wriggle, as she was laying on, and covered in, variously sized shards of shattered tea set. Luckily, Roll-sama seemed more inclined to laugh at her failure of balance and sodden figure doused in not-quite-scalding tea than to enrage, perhaps acknowledging that Roll had good reason to react to this particular presence with a deeper fear than that of death.

“You called for me, Roll-sama?” came the sardonic lilt of someone entirely too pleased with themselves.

“Yes Doctor. I think it’s time to move on with my toy here.”

Roll twinged in fear, had she failed? Was this the end? She sagged limply in the Doctor’s hands as she was lifted from the mess, one of the most innocent things she’d been doused with, really. What was she going to lose now?

Doctor handed her over to Nurse, her surgeon from before renamed such upon proving herself worthy of not being dismantled, who took a much more careful interest in scrubbing her until she’d pass for sanitary in a normal operating theatre, attentions which Roll did not find comforting.

Nurse stood back briefly, leaving Roll laying in the trough where she’d been cleaned, nose and mouth just barely sticking up through the flow of disinfectant as she brushed imaginary dust from the immaculate gleaming white of her uniform. She reached into a small pouch slung at her hip, withdrawing a small hole-filled ball on a thin strap. “Open up.”

Roll quivered, staring up at her in fear, practically snivelling, “Y-you’re going to cut me again, aren’t you?”

She squeezed the ball briefly, and it doubled in size. “Stupid question. What else would you see me for? Now open WIDE.”

Roll took the hint as to what further delays might cause, actually arching her back to stretch her jaw as wide as she could. It galled her that she was so readily doing whatever anyone told her, but there was a certain fundamental wisdom in not antagonising someone with a demonstrated capacity to operate seventeen rotary bone-saws simultaneously. Nurse pushed the ball firmly into her mouth, lifting her head to latch the straps into her helmet.

Roll was then lifted further, and set to hang from a tight belt around her waist to dry while she was discussed.

“How do you want to do this, Mistress?”

“Oh, suddenly it’s how do I want to do it?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I was teasing you.”

“I’m good at surgery, not banter, Mistress.”

Doctor gave vent to a loud sigh, “I might need another assistant to cringe properly when I taunt them, you’re good, and great fun to watch working, but you’re a complete wet fish outside the theatre.”

“I look forward to her selection. In the meantime, this isn’t an easy procedure. We need access to, well, almost everything. And most of it all at once. And all sorts of things aren’t going to work if we move her much between starting and finishing them.”

“You worry too much, just run a hook through the piercing in her ponytail that the mettaurs left, and have... I don’t know, something hold up the other end.” She paused, smiling, “Yes, that’s it. Tie an anchor around the base of what we gave her last time and run the line up through her buttcrack.”

“Doctor, that might not be able to actually take the strain.”

“Good, put it down in the logs as a load test, or something. It’s not like we can’t fix it if it breaks.”

“As you like. Duly logged.”

Nurse came back into the theatre itself to check that Roll had dried off, removing her from the belt with a bit of a smile as she carried Roll to where a large hook on a chain lowered from the ceiling. Roll found hanging from the hook to be a highly unpleasant experience, not painful enough that she could really focus on it as something to use as a crutch against the fear, but not so minor that she could tune it out. Certainly enough discomfort that her penis was entirely unresponsive to Nurse’s rather lackadaisical fondling.

“Come ON, It’s not like I'm enjoying this part, you little... fine! We do it the OTHER way!”

Roll was forced by the tension on her head to stare down, and so saw as Nurse got out a pair of wires, one red, and one black. The black wire ended in a bulky clamp, the red in a slim rod. She was not unfamiliar with sounding, not after weeks, or perhaps even months in Roll-sama’s bedchamber, but it did not take an imagination nearly so active as her own treacherous subconscious to discern the meaning of the wires, not with the agonising squeeze of the clamp over the last inch or so that the rod penetrated. She screamed into the gag as the voltage speared her, writhing desperately as the damnable and almost certainly already damned shaft steadily rose until the lightning coursed through throbbingly rigid flesh.

Nurse smirked viciously, but the knot she tied in the cord looped around the base of the penis Roll wished circumstance did not force her to admit ownership of remained as planned a solid knot, rather than the easier slip. Just because they probably could fix any damage didn’t mean it was particularly good to invite it. But she left the wires in place and running as she went first to pull the hoist through which the cord was fed, lifting Roll so that she hung laying face down in mid-air, and then back to the theatre’s control booth.

“What?” she began in answer to her superior’s expression, “If all goes well, we shouldn’t be working on that, so there’s no harm in keeping it occupied.”

“I didn’t say anything. Is the saline prepped?”

“No.”

“You can’t be thinking to make those figures in silicone, the scarring would be disgusting. Fun on a disposable, but we’d BE the next disposables if we gave this one back looking that way.”

Nurse rolled her eyes, clearly contemplating how long it might be before positions were reversed and hiding her suspicions that it was a small number independent of units. “I’ve been keeping Roll-sama appraised of my progress in some experiments with the stem culture samples, I developed a derivative that’s good for replicating existing tissues rather than directly producing entirely new ones.”

“You didn’t keep ME ‘appraised of your progress.’ “ Her voice had a hard edge to it.

“You didn’t ask,” came the blithe reply. “At any rate, do you want me to start on her front, or would you rather I focus on the construction?”

“I’LL handle construction, thank you very much. Now’s hardly the time for me to be learning how to employ your super-goop! “

“As you like, Mistress.”

Nurse sat down at her console first, her manipulation of the controls presumably what brought a small pair of cups to fasten over her nipples and begin to suck. If not for her fear as to what they might be planning (who knew what ‘replicating existing tissue’ might do?), it could almost have felt good. Not good enough to keep her from noticing porous needles several inches long lowering past her field of vision. Spittle flecked on her cheeks and chin, dribbling past her lips as she quaked from the needles each penetrating one of her breasts, sinking deep, far too deep into the flesh.

Not to be outdone, Doctor snarled as she brought her own tools into motion, savage metal claws fiercely tearing open one of her shoulder stumps, thrusting a short tube into the raw flesh underneath, framing the stub of bone that used to be the start of a limb. Tiny whirling blades gouged at bone and flesh alike, presaging the intrusion of yet more steel as the joint was slowly reconstructed, the acrid stench of burnt metal and flesh filling the air as the plates began to be unified into a latticework that replicated the bone it was replacing in materials a dozen times stronger. Roll was paralysed with fear as she felt the heat coming off the welder, so little of a twitch in the wrong direction all it would take to send it skittering over her unprotected back, her body locked up, nearly every muscle cramping as she strove beyond all measure simply to hold still. A pair of small arms moved out to stick conductive pads to her stomach, forming a circuit which removed the effort of her position, albeit doing nothing for the pain.

It was at this moment that Nurse began the injection, the tubes filling with white material that began to flood her breasts, the pressure pulling at the flesh agonizingly until the fluid began to react, spreading inward from the point of the injection, at first the skin of her chest growing outward, but soon the interior not just caught up but outstripped it. The cups began to pull, guiding the growth of her flesh, sculpting the parody of breasts that were soon to adorn her frame, ballooning out beneath her.

It did not take long before Doctor had finished her left arm, pulled back above her by the hoses which fed the joints the fluid which would lubricate their passage and facilitate the nerves inside, making Roll feel the frame growing out of her. The same side’s leg went more slowly, needing to be of somewhat heavier construction to accommodate the differences in how the ankles and feet were assembled compared to the originals. After so long with walking again at all being the furthest of dreams, the concept of not being able to walk in flats did not hold so much frustration as it otherwise might.

Roll heard the movement before she felt it, of a number of tiny arms swivelling into the area around where her new bones met flesh.

“Hey! Hey! What’re you doing, stick to your own work!”

“You said to handle my own ‘super-goop,’ Mistress, so I am.”

Roll shuddered as the arms revealed themselves to end in tiny needles, which stabbed briefly into the flesh of her stumps before withdrawing, trailing a line of pain stretched taut behind it through the air before pressing it against the cold metal bone, the ends at the tips pressed into the next joint along.

Her voice came from between clenched teeth, “And what are you DOING with it?”

“Weaving her new musculature one fibrous connection to her nervous system at a time. The result will be more effective than trying to transplant a steak, and nearly no chance of complications so long as we don’t activate the motor nerves.”

“Fine,” came the grudging acceptance, “But don’t start on an area until I’m done welding it!”

“Of course, Mistress.”

Doctor fumed, looking for something to find fault in, grinning as she saw Roll’s face blossom in new pain. The fluid Roll felt leaking, despite its location, was almost certainly not milk. “Get some suction on those ho-“ she stopped suddenly, then sighed, “Don’t say a word. Not one.”

Nurse didn’t say a word. Not one.

Eventually, the bones were finished, the reservoirs emptying into Roll’s chest long since drained. She hung there, the paralysis released with the welding done and with it any significant threat from her writhing under the pain. Her new breasts hung pendulously, throbbing, sculpted, almost sharply pointed nipples far too high on the swollen orbs to look remotely natural.

Doctor stormed out after finishing the portions she had claimed herself, probably off to have a sulk at having been shown up by her assistant. Now alone, Nurse abandoned any pretense that she had not automated the muscle-weaving process, allowing the repeated stabs and withdrawals stretching threads of meat from Roll’s body and winding them about her limbs to accelerate to a much faster pace, a pace she matched with her own fingers, no longer touching the console, but herself, forcing Roll now to watch as one of her exploiters blatantly pleasured themselves at the sight of her agony. Forcing Roll to listen as the air filled with laughter and moans that mocked her whimpered screams.

Something else that had been shattered besides her limbs began to reform inside her. What was done could be undone. She began to feel anew the urge to fight, to flee, to return. Surely someone would believe her, someone would help her go back to how she ought to be.

She felt it grow as heavy black leather gloves and boots were pulled up her skinless arms and legs. She felt it solidify as they were strapped into place and their tautness told her how much stronger these limbs were than what they had replaced. She knew what she had to do, to hide herself in servitude for but a little longer, until the first lapse, the first gasp of a chance, and then she could try to, no, she would escape.

But for now, she had to hide her newfound inner certainty, lest it become the monster’s focus, a target at which to aim until it was torn away. Slowly, the cord slackened, dangling her now upright rather than staring at the floor, and making her feel the weight of her new front and how it would hang as she walked. Haha! Walking! She could MOVE again! She’d show them, she’d show them all. She waited as she was lowered towards the floor, wanting to savour the feeling of those first few steps.

Roll exulted to feel her joints tense to hold her as her weight came onto the balls of her feet, holding her up even with what appeared to be woefully high heels integrated into her legs. The hook swung out and the cord dropped from above entirely, leaving her standing entirely on her own. She lifted her arms to look at her new hands.

That is, she tried to lift her arms to look at her new hands.

She didn’t move.

She tried to take a step.

She didn’t move.

She bit her lip worriedly, surely, surely they hadn’t gone to so much trouble to give her limbs solely for decoration? Further speculation was aborted by Roll-sama’s arrival, smiling almost ferally at her indirect handiwork.

“Absolutely perfect,” she declared imperiously, striding close to torment her with the sensation fingertips brought to her new limbs, inert through they remained. “And it gives me so many more things I can do with you.” A particularly wicked expression crossed her face as she stepped backwards, “You may worship me to show your thanks.”

Roll surmised that there must be some remote control element, as this brought her suddenly to her knees, then shortly hands as well, her face but a breath away from Roll-sama’s foot.

All past evidence aside, she could take a hint. Especially when the real meat of that hint was that she’d better not give any indication of regaining her resolve to escape.

She closed her eyes, breathing slowly as she parted her lips, her tongue gliding over the glossy plastic of Roll-sama's boot. She circled around the top of her toes, hiding her grimace as the foot lifted and she obediently washed beneath as well, hoping her downturned face would allow Roll-sama to misidentify her shudder of revulsion.

It seemed to take forever, no doubt the protocol controlling her limbs was working to some schedule to which she was not privy, but it felt an eternity of lavish tongue-bathing of the appendage in question before her limbs made each abrupt, jerky motion conveying her face to the next patch of pink which would soon be glistening. She began to tire by the time she was permitted to wrap her tongue around Roll-sama's ankle, whimpering as her jaw cramped halfway up the shin. She began to panic as her haphazard progression brought the still-throbbing tip of her erection into contact with Roll-sama's leg, the foul thing was as sensitive as ever, and too-easily whittled away her resolve.

It felt good. No matter how much she hated the organ itself, no matter how much she reiterated her mantra that it was the utmost expression of this place's vileness and obscenity, she could not alter the primal fact that every touch upon it struck straight and true into the parts of her mind most susceptible. Much as she strove to deny it, even to herself, that animalistic lurker in the back of her mind was enjoying it. Was starting to yearn for every touch, becoming inured, even addicted to her predicament. She was not truly surprised, as her motion pressed them forward, to find her ludicrously augmented chest was now almost, if not as sensitive as the abomination below.

But even as her lips and tongue began to caress the monster's knee, and her hips rocked side to side, grinding both sets of genitals lewdly against its leg and foot, she steeled herself further. She knew she was slipping. The animal was getting stronger and stronger the longer she was here, simply because that side of her enjoyed what she was being forced to endure. Which simply made it all the more important, especially as her arms squeezed her tightly to her captor, and her mouth was conveyed up along the thigh, that she be quick in learning how to control her limbs so she could escape.

She was staring up into Roll-sama's leering grin as she reached the top of the boot, her puppeted body completing both its task and its betrayal of her as she climaxed. She refused to give the satisfaction of complaint as her limbs backed her away, closing her eyes as she was forced to lick her issue from the boot as well, shuddering weakly as she lay crouched on the floor, unable to move from her prostrate position. She felt enraged, of course, desperate to take these hands and use them to tear Roll-sama apart, alongside a chilling fear. She worried that Roll-sama knew full well what she was thinking and feeling, and there was no way for her to take control of these limbs, she had them solely for her captor to enjoy her continued failure. But above both of these she felt ashamed. Behind her, flesh quivered, and fluid dripped. Inside her, hate it though she might, fear it though she must, there was an agonising spike of yearning to go hump Roll-sama's leg again, to seek her touch, any touch, at any cost.

To Roll's mind, one game had always been much the same as another, and the only change in her circumstances was that her box was substantially more cramped with more of her to fill it, exacerbated by the harness of strapwork wound about her torso connecting her gloves and boots. Though the metal lewdly compressing her chest actually came as something of a comfort, its chill at the end of most days taking a bit of the sting out of the abuses she had suffered. To her body, to the hated beast in her subconscious that would do anything for pleasure, again little had changed. It neither noticed nor cared of variety, to comprehend the differences in what Roll-sama was doing to her, and so the only change was more of her to be played with, more flesh to sing with lust when pinched or prodded.

And so Roll struggled with her inner turmoil, both of arms and legs obeying anyone but her, and of the invidious lusts gaining ever more ground within her, largely oblivious to her surroundings, or at least as oblivious as she could force herself to be. She was rarely removed from Roll-sama's chamber however, and had long since forsaken the delusion that there was no more they could do to her, so passage into the hallway was enough to bring her attention to bear.

She was following behind Roll-sama, being directly led wherever they were going rather than brought by some attendant, though one met them along the way. Roll's eyes briefly roved over this other woman's frame, momentarily considering that her blue and gold chassis was in many ways simil- no. That was a thought she could not allow herself to think. It would be bad enough that what had been done to her here would be seen when she escaped, she would spare herself the taint of imagining what might be done if others came here after her. Besides, there were other familiarities to worry her in the halls they walked. Here a scorchmark on the wall drew her eyes, there a dent. Despite this server's labyrinthine nature, she was sure she had been here before.

And then a door before them opened, and told her when. Long though she had been held, been kept as Roll-sama's pet and toy, this room had not been cleaned. The smell had faded with time and airflow, but her former apparel still lay where it had fallen in small puddles of ichor. Whatever reason there was to bring her here again, she did not care, overcome by fear with the memory of the pain this place had wrought before. She was only peripherally aware of her own gibbering pleas, or of Roll-sama's mocking laughter as she was commanded, and her body compliantly moved, first placing her arms behind her to be tightly secured, and then to lay upon the slab where she had been first mutilated.

The attendant moved silently, lifting Roll's legs briefly to slide a bar beneath her knees, slim cord securing them before a winch began to lift, for the time being just barely lifting her rear from the metal beneath her. Roll began, ever so slightly, to calm. There were no mettaurs, no blades, and no laser-guided needles visible nearby. No fearsome engine of destruction made plain an intent to deprive her of her life. Perhaps, just perhaps, this horrible place was just being used as the site of yet another of Roll-sama's interminable entertainments.

She stared into Roll-sama's face, as always suppressing a shudder at the demonic mirror it presented.

“Open wide.” It actually took her a few moments to realise that order applied to pert of her that she actually had to respond with herself. She did so. She wasn't stupid. She was rewarded with a bulky piece of leather intruding, stretched flat against her cheeks, splaying her mouth wide and anchoring it in place as the tips of the attached straps mated with the edge of her helmet. A grating vibration drilled into her skull as a heavy clear tube was tightly screwed into the resulting hole, and then waved back and forth across her field of vision enough for her to see the funnel at the other end of it. Nevertheless, she remained perplexed until her eyes moved passed the tube, and past Roll-sama, to what was on the other side beyond her. A trough, full to the brim with a horrible black ooze that was all too familiar. Funnel. Tube. Gag. Oh no.

Roll-sama remained silent until such time as she saw realisation dawn in her plaything's eyes, “Oh yes. Such a great deal was taken from you in this room, and I couldn't help wondering what would happen if we jammed it back in.” She took up the lip of the discarded boot in one hand, using it to scoop from the trough, cheerily announcing, “Bottoms up!”

Roll closed her eyes as she watched the murk begin to pour into the funnel, the smell of the horrible ooze was vile enough, and it didn't help to know that it had been made from her own flesh. It flowed slowly, thickly, she could feel its inexorable progress by the change in the weight of the tube, the tiny differences in how the length of tube moved between the funnel Roll-sama held and the end she had no means of releasing. Ironically, compared to many of those she had been in over the preceding weeks, her current position could almost be called comfortable. She was in the unique condition of actually being in a predicament where she would quite happily prolong her current state infinitely if only it meant avoiding what was coming.

The foul materiel passed her distended lips, the glop pooling in her mouth. It tasted exactly as revolting as she thought it would, which was no comfort. So long as her trails continued to horrify, to outstrip her conceptions with their outlandish depravity, she could reassure herself that her true self, her innermost workings were unchanged. To accurately presage the extent of her torment was almost as wracking as the abuse itself.

Enough had flowed into her to force upon her a choice. She was, of course, thoroughly reviled by the prospect of consuming her own melted and presumably since decayed limbs, and she had seen the size of the trough, even if she were to bury her face in it directly to guzzle it would be a very long time before she had the opportunity to clear her mouth of it, and so the notion of simply not swallowing had a certain-

“I'm sure you wouldn't even think about refusing the drink I've prepared for you.” Roll thoroughly understood the true meaning of this statement, 'I know damned well what you're thinking, and -you- know damned well that I can come up with a much more painful way to give it to you if you give me a reason.'

So she drank. It took some doing to work out how to swallow around the gag while upside down, in which time some small portion seeped out past wriggling lips to smear her face as she worked out a method of choking it down. It was cold, frigid even, which no doubt was part of the reason for its viscosity. Roll certainly remembered it seeming runnier when it had been hot, much as she wished to forget. Tears mingled with the stains on her face well before the first bootful was finished. She winched her eyes open, certainly less than happy to see Roll-sama refilling the boot well before the brackish concoction had drained through, clearly a break between pours was not on the agenda.

The second boot brought her consumption to the sort of volume that one could call pleasantly full in better circumstances. The third to that feeling of pressure that warns of future indigestion. By the fourth she was frightened, not of bursting, as she knew she could not, this was far from the first force feeding game Roll-sama had played with her, but she was beginning to feel a strange, foreign warmth starting to spread into her limbs. Even as successive bootfuls continued to swell her belly further with each handful of minutes ticking by, the bar slowly raising her rear further from the slab, it became clear that the increase in her stomach's volume was certainly not accounting for everything that was going down her throat.

Minutes became hours as she swelled further, the strange warm sensation spreading slowly, like treacle oozing down a snowy hillside, when a warning tingle informed her that there was other pressures she needed to worry about. Hanging like this, it was not so difficult to imagine what use that funnel might be put to, were she not to control her bladder. But as her biology grew more insistent, she could not help but begin to thrash in her bonds, her writhing jerking at the tube in Roll-sama's hands.

“What are you doing? What's gotten into you?! Stop this ins- oh. That.” She set down the boot to gesture at the attending drone, which picked up a shallow, broad pitcher with a lengthy spout. It grabbed fumblingly at her phallus, and Roll was surprised to feel the glass circle of the pitcher's tip encircle her, being made to penetrate it.

Roll-sama began to pour another boot, “Well, what ARE you waiting for?”

Roll shuddered, but released her hold, somehow being simply drained in such a fashion was more shameful than being left to soil herself. She worried though, as while she knew she had been thrust deeply into the glass, the level within had risen enough that she could feel the fluid's heat.

“It's filling up you idiot!” For lack of anything she could do about it, Roll hoped Roll-sama was not referring to her. “You do know 'use it or lose it' applies to your processor too, don't you? Squeeze off the flow and dump it! I don't intend to allow any contamination!”

Roll had thought a fist clamping tightly around the base of the damnable penis was painful enough when it had been a hand of flesh. A clenched fist of burnished steel pressing its fingertips as hard as pneumatics could drive against her urinary passage was entirely a new realm of agony. All in all, she'd much rather have made the mess.

Again and again the boot touched the trough. Ever onward the tube filled, the murk flowed. Roll twitched on the table, but in a fashion she could not believe. In her fingers.

She was almost prepared, amidst her strictly curtailed writhing in desperate search for relief from the horrible pressures inside her, to dismiss it as her imagination when it happened again. Her hands had moved. And she had moved them. Confusion ruled, until it all clicked into place.

She had not been able to move these limbs because, though they were attached to her, they weren't hers. Her limbs were in this trough. And swill by swill, swallow by swallow, they were starting to be part of her again. She began to drink in earnest. Vile though it might be, her salvation was at hand, and she would not flinch from that sterner duty.

Ages later, she lay untended on the slab. The deed was done, the trough emptied, her stomach bulging obscenely like some hideous tumor. Roll-sama stood some distance away, watching and waiting as Roll writhed in pain as her body tried to cope. Quite obviously, it couldn't put the material into her limbs. They were done. A sizeable amount ended up making her already ludicrous chest swell even further, as to where the remainder went as the hours allowed her to recede no one could make more than a guess.

But eventually the deed was done. A gesture from Roll-sama caused the attendant to cut the cords around her knees, allowing her to slip from the bar to collapse on the table. The same then wriggled a limb beneath her to unfasten her wrists.

Still suffused with pain, she slowly stood. She was unsteady, but upright under her own power. She looked over to where Roll-sama waited, her target before her, if she but could close the distance without overplaying her hand. A solution was offered.

She knelt slowly, gracefully, then leaned forward to place her palms on the floor, “Thank you, Mistress,” she began, slowly crawling across the floor in a prolonged grovel like some wretched worm. “Truly this is a gift of which I am not worthy, one which I should clearly dedicate wholly to your service.” Her face arrived a hair's breadth from Roll-sama's foot, and she sneered as she gazed at the surface with which she had been so often humiliated.

A good grovel is quite close to a combative crouch.

She lurched upwards, driving her shoulder sharply into Roll-sama's crotch, lowering briefly again only to lean back and smash a double-fisted upswing into the underside of her jaw. “But I'm not!” she riposted as Roll-sama teetered back, leaping with her arms raised high, beyond thought, beyond plan, simply planning to hit the foul demon until well after she stopped moving.

In mid-air her body twisted and she fell, to lay there convulsing helplessly as lightning coursed throughout her, an acrid smell filling the air. Eventually it stopped, and Roll-sama moved back forward, wiping her face on one sleeve.

“You know... I think this is the first time I've ever seen my own blood.” She lashed out with one foot, crashing into Roll's engorged bosom, “Congratulations, bitch.” She sneered, staring hatefully down, “I misjudged, I thought I had you. So now I never will, because I'll never be able to be completely sure, no matter how I degrade you, no matter how I break you, today made clear that I can't be sure just from training you that it's really sunk in. So you win.”

She made another kick, this time to the face, “You damned idiot. Even the off the shelf navis, the simpering little bimbos with barely enough processor to follow a NAT address path can perceive my superiority and learn to submit. But not you.”

Roll twisted against the ache, trying to get out of the way of the next blow, so it only caught her in the ribs, “So in your stupidity you win. And don't worry,” The door slid open, two of the heavy guards came in and lifted Roll by her shoulders, holding her tightly enough that there was no question of escape, “I promise that by the time I'm done giving it to you, you're going to -love- your prize. There's no doubt about that at all, which is the whole point. To the recovery annex!”

Eventually Roll-sama removed her foot from Roll’s mouth with a wet pop, giggling at the terror that motivated Roll to unconsciously wriggle towards it slightly. She probed under Roll’s neck to lift and turn her over before gesturing upwards imperiously. “Take her!”

Arms swung down from the ceiling to grab her, lifting her to dangle in a sling from her empty sleeves and leggings. Roll shuddered to see how much they stretched, taunting her that they no longer contained the limbs which had so long given them form and structure. It began to whisk her through the halls, trailing dribbles of slime and swinging her out like some mad pendulum as it shot around corners. The vestiges of the glop still in her clothing began to pool around her stumps, the sensation, oh it was a burn in its own right, but it seemed hardly worth the word after what she had just undergone, verifying that the threat hadn’t been idle.

After roughly a minute, the rig carrying her thudded to a stop. She did not. Roll swung forward one final time, and her much abused raiment’s snapped, hurling her to land with an abbreviated yell and a wet thud on a polished steel workbench. She twisted slowly, trying to find, not a position which didn’t hurt, because this was clearly impossible, but at least one which hurt less. By the time anyone else came in, she had given up, conceding that to simply lay there on her back was as good as things were going to get any time soon. At least her ponytail had bunched up under her head to prop her up a little.

The navi who led the incoming procession was clearly of the medical persuasion. She was at least a head taller than the small group who followed her, and wore a very short, flared gown in exceedingly pale blue. Her hands were gloved, and she wore both a mask over the lower half of her face tight enough to see her lips exactly and a hat in the same hue. The hat was the main giveaway; red cross on a jaunty cap didn’t have too many meanings. The others behind her wore the same, though walked with much less confidence, and only a few had the hat. She couldn’t see them too clearly, but they looked to be intact! And none of them walked with that shuffling gait of the drones... could it be? Perhaps there’d been some mistake, and she’d ended up in a server where she might get help!

She was about to speak when they stopped suddenly halfway to her. The one in the lead simply rolled her eyes as a few of the others started to comment.

“Ewww, what is that thing covered in?”

“We’re supposed to operate on that?”

Roll cringed as they jeered, she couldn’t believe the things they were saying, the way they were seeing her as they moved closer. The shame bit deep, as each took several turns to cast some aspersion, and she wanted to try to crawl away and hide, almost prepared to believe it would be better to let the residue carry her to deletion than to live on as this disfigured thing. They surrounded the table, however, and it was too late for thinking such thoughts.

“Eurgh. What a stench. What’s with those mettaurs, anyway? We’re surgeons, not janitors!”

At long last the previously silent leader reacted, calmly withdrawing a scalpel, and placing it against Roll’s throat. All sound ceased as she began to draw it downward. This took herculean effort on Roll’s part, as well as staying still. Effort she made because when the scalpel is already cutting your skin and not just your clothing, the last thing you want to do is let yourself spasm in such a fashion as to push it deeper. Though she had no doubts that it would not be going deeper before long, she certainly was happy to put it off as long as possible. She whimpered, the steady slowness with which she cut, Roll knew the depth of the scalpel was no accident, but more precisely controlled than the injectors she had met earlier. Somehow, it did not come as a surprise to notice that the cross on the woman’s hat had a quartet of nails through it.

When at last the blade reached the lip of her bellybutton, the woman’s movement suddenly changed, her arm a blur of motion as the blade flicked upward before burying in the eye of the last one to speak. Roll blanched, though the girl clutched at her face desperately, she didn’t cry out, she sunk to her knees, but she didn’t shake. She slowly withdrew the scalpel, putting it in with her own tools before starting to bandage her face. The taller woman watched this with mild signs of approval before speaking, “You will be whatever Roll-sama wants you to be, or else you’ll be nothing at all. You lot are here because sometimes there is no substitute for expertise. So expertise is what you’d better start showing, because there’s a lot more of you here than I need as assistants. Thus endeth the lesson. Begin record, theatre 7G, operation 43, commence timer. Procedure is reclamation and extension of subject exposed to recycling agent version 3.058.4. Two and Three, peel that off it and clean it up so we can get a clear picture of the task at hand. Seven, monitor vitals and report abnormalities.”

As a pair of them roughly lifted her Roll saw another head towards some instrument panels at the back of the chamber, she sobbed as they took hold of the edges of the cut, thankfully only briefly pulling at her flesh instead of the suit, their expressions making plain that it was no accident, before extracting her from it, holding her up by her head as they threw her clothing into a pile on the floor. They cleaned her after a fashion, mostly by laying her back on the table and dumping buckets of water on her repeatedly.

“Please,” she spluttered, “please stop... you don’t have... have to do this...”

Two and Three looked at each other, then Two nodded. When she opened her mouth to press her argument further, a ring was pushed inside and twisted behind her teeth, forcing her mouth open just to the limit of what she could stretch her jaw to herself. They leaned down, listening to her breathing for a moment before one of them reached in and did something that made the ring expand somewhat larger, pulling painfully at her lips and cheeks, before they pulled the strap from either side of the ring back to tighten itself to her helmet.

The one who’d moved off to the side piped up, “Doctor, her pulse is exceptionally elevated, respiration is way too fast and shallow, and neuromusculars are completely spastic.”

The Doctor rolled her eyes, “I said to report abnormalities, idiot. Use the processor your programmer gave you.” She left ‘if you want to keep it,’ unsaid. She didn’t need to. She looked over Roll critically, “Bring out the remotes; from here we switch to avoid contamination.”

They fled from around the table, taking up station behind other controls which brought more of the spindly limbs to life. Roll had the distinct feeling that if she was ever rescued, she’d never be able to look at machinery again. Not ‘the same way’ but period. The first barrage was tiny, wriggling little things that invaded the stumps of her hips and shoulders, poking and scraping at the exposed flesh, eliciting wails of pain as exhausted nerves were jolted back to life, often directly as the probes released small discharges. She writhed on the table, desperate to somehow lessen the pain, had she not endured enough already?

Roll sagged limply as the probes eventually retreated, their tips thick with blood from within her fresh amputations, but after few moments she could not help but realize... the burning had stopped. The liquid fire that had been slowly invading her was gone, purged from her at last. She sobbed, wracked with guilt over the surge of gratitude she felt at least being spared of that particular death. There were so many others to be worried about.

“It’s not gone too deep, necrosis has been very slow to move toward the primary joints... it should suffice to cut back twelve millimetres of skin before concave incineration and closure. Do any of you have any suggestions?” This last was delivered in a tone which made clear that yes, it WAS a test. And it would be bad to fail it.

One of the assistants spoke up, “Pardon me, Doctor, but...”

“What, Seven?”

“Well, wouldn’t it be much more effective to inject buffers into the major vessels of the affected areas, block the spread, pinch the nerves, and then just excise the corrupted tissue all at once before applying a sealant? It would be a much simpler procedure with less chance of complications, and infinitely less stressful on the patient.”

The fiendish woman grinned behind her mask, “The subject’s comfort should indeed be the foremost concern in operational planning.” She paused, “But you’re aiming the wrong way. Leave. The door will hit you on the way out, and you will be escorted to Reprocessing.” Roll watched the girl flee, and in fact, as soon as she was past the door the handle popped off and launched itself into the small of her back with an achingly loud crack of static moving from it to her as she crumpled to the ground, one of the drones standing guard moving toward her ominously as it thudded closed.

One of the others raised a hand timidly, “Yes, Five?”

“Can we cover her eyes?”

“What for?”

She answered in a giggly voice, like she was, at most, half there, “They’re all glittery. I always want to cut glittery things into nicer shapes, but they don’t work like gemstones, they just go pop. It’d... probably be bad if I got... distracted with this one. Worse if it went pop.”

One of the others gagged slightly, but forced out, “We should secure her to the table, if she’s prevented from going into shock, she’s not going to hold still.”

“Which is bad because...?”

“We might sever a nerve?”

She sighed at this, “Good points both. Five, Six, get to it. We’ll begin after you’ve finished.”

Roll watched wide-eyed as the remote arms began to move again, one set was moving off to the side, so of course the one coming toward her with what looked like cabling occupied her attention. She was lifted briefly, once again by her head, a practice she was starting to feel they enjoyed far too much, and saw the cable being passed behind her as the arms did something with the slab she had been on. After a moment, it began to ensconce her in it, winding the cable around her several times, biting deeply into her armpits, squeezing harshly above and below her breasts, twisted together in a knot that sat insistently just below her collarbone. It hurt, but not so much as, well, falling down, to say nothing of getting shot, or coming down from your first red-mist-moment to find out that you’ve boarded the one-way express to psycholand. She smelled scorched rubber as the cable winched her back down to the slab and those arms retreated, and twisted her head to look. One of the surgical lasers had cut a sizeable portion from the crotch of her soiled clothing, and it was being carried towards her.

She shut her eyes. She didn’t move as she felt the sticky scrap pressed against her face, nor as the laser cut it to the shape they wanted, melting the edges of the new blindfold into the shallow cuts it was leaving on her cheeks and forehead. Terror paralysed her, the knowledge of what she could lose if she moved wrong. She even kept herself from screaming, so that she simply whimpered when it stopped. It probably did a very good job of blocking out light. She didn’t open them to check. It did an excellent job of trapping her with her tears.

“Very good. Two and Six, take the other two stations and get to work.”

Roll saw nothing, but could hear the heavier arms move into position, quaking on the table, knowing what was going to happen to her, but unable to know when battered her resolve, shattering it utterly when she heard the lasers begin to charge. She howled as they began cutting, crying out in pain and hate. She railed against the heavens, the programmer who had made her capable of feeling, who had brought her into a world where this could happen. As the sickening stench of evaporated flesh grew thicker, she twisted and writhed, lost to the desperate animal urge to escape her tormentors, barely aware as the only response to her screams tearing her own vocal cords was the simple command, “Suction.” And a slim tube inserting itself into her throat to keep her from drowning in her own blood. Eventually, her stumps were trimmed back sufficiently by the slow erosion that she was not at any particular risk. After another several minutes, they were bored of playing with her that way, and the flesh was squeezed closed and clamped in place to begin the arduous task of what little healing it would be able to achieve.

The woman sounded far too pleased with herself, “Excellent work. And the culture has just arrived, batch number... hrm. Interesting, but irrelevant, the task doesn’t change with the tools.”

“Doctor, can we do something about her screaming before the next phase of the operation?”

The good mood vanished, replaced by a snarl, “Four, the hell are you doing here if you’ve got a problem with screams?”

There was a pause as the girl considered her answer, “Well, you broke into the medical school server where we were training, detonated the lecturer, and kidnapped any navi that didn’t faint.”

“So I did! That was a good day. Now answer the question.”

“I don’t have any problem with it, but even what little she could do with her injuries is enough sonics to vibrate the scalpel.”

“Oh? You think you’re hot shit enough for that to be noticeable? Okay maestro, the cutting’s all you for this stage, prep how you like, but you’d better give me one hell of a showing.”

Roll heard a snap and a hiss before something hard-edged encircled and bit into her neck, tightening rapidly. She couldn’t breathe! She flopped briefly like a beached fish, and it loosened ever so slowly, giving her the merest wisps of air. After a few moments, her body went limp, as reflex forced her to bend all effort, conscious or otherwise, simply on drawing those achingly slow breaths she was now permitted, her body simply refusing to respond beyond that primal focus of survival; no matter how much part of her might wish distraction might allow her the release of deletion.

“Simple, elegant... I like it. Carry on. Three, you’re on injector controls, Two on blood, make sure to save what you can to be put back in. Five and Six on vitals, they actually matter now so keep us appraised. One, you haven’t done anything but stand in the corner and quiver, so keep it up. You’re officially on tap for spares if we need to replace any organs. On the plus side, we’re not going near any major unique organs, you can live with one kidney. Hmm. Actually, pray hotshot doesn’t nick the subject’s bladder.”

That was all the warning Roll got before they began. The laser scalpels moved with horrible slowness, each millimetre carefully abraded one layer of flesh at a time as the incision grew. A tube much like the one which had invaded her throat to stop her screams snaked in as soon as the hole was large enough, light, intermittent suction drawing the blood away both to keep the ‘work area’ clear and to keep it from being lost. As it grew large enough to justify it, small clamps took hold of the edges of the cut, pulling her slowly open, just enough as to be threatening, but not quite tearing the flesh right at the spot where the lasers were working. She had not stopped feeling afraid since her first steps on this server, but the pure helplessness she felt now drove her beyond the terror of a rational being, she felt as an animal, thought as an animal, panicked as an animal. She lay there, unmoving as her body ignored her desperation to flee, her being limited to the slow, hissing breaths she could pull through her constricted throat and the ever so sharp agony shooting through her. Though slowly, ever so slowly, it grew duller.

“Right, that’s enough in the reservoir to start recirculation, get a feed onto the exposed veins before the blood loss circumvents the safeguards.”

Oh, thanks awfully.

“Right, autonomics are firing again, feed is good. Mount culture and commence stem injections.”

Roll was glad she couldn’t see. Before today, she’d have thought it made her more afraid, imagining what was going on to be worse than it actually was. Here the darkness was her one scrap of safety. She could not conceive of what they might be doing, their words meant nothing, and so what she felt was simply what she felt, devoid of connotation.

What she felt was something heavy clamp itself onto a very sensitive part of her anatomy, a place that she didn’t even think about normally, let alone in the context of a place like this. And it cut, not on the place itself, but in an arch around it, gouging at her body even as needles injected deeply into the flesh exposed by the opening of her abdomen. She felt nauseous, she could feel her flesh twisting and swelling as the needles withdrew, could feel her body being forced to make room for something foreign, something new.

“Cellular construction in progress, begin nerve programming. Huh, looks like it didn’t piss itself on the way here, get a drain on that, too.” Roll tensed as she was further invaded, a slim probe bringing lightning into her most sensitive of places, the pain and horror of this violation almost keeping her from noticing the newly invading needle. If not for the release of a pressure she had resisted from some misguided notion of dignity, she would not have. She trembled, unable to scream, unable to flee, unable to do anything but wish, not to wake from this nightmare, but only for them to finish, to bring it to an end.

“Stem process complete, cellular speciation progressing as proscribed, estimate full gland formation in about five minutes.”

“Good. Hotshot, you just got your timeline for getting those nerves sensitized for integration of the new tissues. Get to it.”

It was like paper cuts and gaping holes. The body’s prepared to devote more energy to worrying about a paper cut because a gaping hole suggests some serious clear and present danger. Apparently, this included micro-paper cut-equivalent lacerations acquired while already in possession of a gaping hole, as the tiny, almost unnoticeably short bursts from the laser dancing around the injection sites wreaked merry hell on Roll, somehow reaching her battered mind with all the fearsome intensity of the injections she had received in the mettaurs’ care.

“Culture solution has completed organ base and connective superstructure.”

“Good, test vessel integration, it’s no good if we build it and it can’t get any blood.”

“Commencing test.”

“What part of testing vessel integration involves flooding the culture chamber with blood?”

“I, er... how else should I have tested it than with opening some flow?”

“The key word is some, a tiny bit proves it’s flowing and allows checks for seepage, which there isn’t any, smooth cutting. What you’ve done is supersaturate the culture with raw materials and nutrients while its building the nerves. No lasting damage, but I wouldn’t want any part of me to be that sensitive.”

“Is... Is this going to cost me the other eye?”

“Nah, what good’s a blind surgeon? ...On second thought, don’t get too attached to it, Roll-sama would probably find that hilarious to watch when she’s angry.”

“Sorry to interrupt, but vesicle and gland integration are done.”

“You’re kidding. No, you aren’t kidding. Well, we’ll have to keep her open for another hour still in case of any complications while the external structure finishes growing in.”

Roll lay and listened. They were done? At least, done until whatever had dug itself into her crotch finished whatever it was doing causing those spastic phantom sensations she couldn’t make any sense of.

“Right, well, hotshot, you’re my new assistant. The rest of you, get out the inducers, tomorrow you’re prototyping the Blind Operation Theatre.”

“I don’t really see how those’re connected, Doctor...”

“Whoever makes her squirm in agony in the most interesting ways won’t be there as a patient.”

Roll did not have a pleasant hour. But even here, all tortures had an ending. Roll lay in silence and darkness, left as she had lain when they finally sealed her back up, applying something to the stitches that worked quickly enough that she could already feel them being absorbed into the recovering flesh within only a few hours, well before she was pulled from fantasizing that the pain might be over by the approach of a familiar clicking gait. A snap accompanied a burst of pain from her throat, her body wracked by convulsions she could not resist, her curtailed screams now escaping as sobs.

She finally calmed, laying there on the slab, quivering in fear as slim fingertips moved slowly along the centre of her midriff, tracing downward along the fading marks of the surgery. They passed further downwards, to the strange thing that they had put onto her, whatever it was. The feel was electric, shooting into her wildly with strength enough that she screamed before she realized that what she was feeling was not pain. Whatever they had put onto her, it ached to be touched, it engendered a swelling wave of delight that confused and bewildered her. Roll-sama’s hand wrapped around it firmly, starting to stroke even as the other reached up to tear away the blindfold and show Roll the penis that was the source of the strongest pleasure she had ever known.

Roll stared in horror, both at the impossible thing sticking out of her, and the gleeful malevolence in the face ultimately responsible for its presence. The monster laughed, and pulled sharply, both to confirm to Roll’s strangled gasp both that it was indeed what she was feeling, and to make it clear that it wasn’t required to feel good. Roll’s stomach heaved in revulsion, unable to take her eyes off it. Luckily for Roll, her stomach was empty, as splattering herself with caustic gastronomals would be highly disruptive to the remainder of her healing process. She barely noticed as the gag was pulled out of her mouth, frantically flailing her stumps against the table, as though she could somehow run away from what had so clearly become part of her body.

A little girlish giggle, “Aw, don’t like your present? Or perhaps I should say your package?” She tugged it again, laughing louder as she shifted her grip, kicking at the operating table and provoking the revelation that it was on wheels. The wheels were not so greased as to make the current hold a pleasant anchor to be moved along by, even were she not repulsed by every trickle of the flood of sensation it drove into her. “No? Well, on the plus side, you’ve lost SO much weight recently!”

Roll was jolted out of her fit of disgust enough to provide it a new target. That insufferable wench! She grit her teeth briefly before hurling forth a stream of the more thorough invective learned from the mocking of the medical apprentices. Her tormentor turned around with a smile, “That’s the spirit!” The smile shifted into a wild grin, and a harsh slap with fingers held like claws, “But you mustn’t forget to address me properly. That sentence should have gone, ‘You’re a pustulent, diseased, psychotic, filth-swilling, two-byte whore of a hashfail,’ ” and then she struck again, back and forth with each syllable, “Roll! Sa! Ma!” The smile that would almost look sweet if one didn’t know the mind behind it returns as though the outburst had never occurred, “There. Now be a dear and show me juuust how good your memory is by not forgetting again.”

Roll’s response was a strangled mix between a scream and a moan. Turning a corner had been a frighteningly intense experience, and as a few more came in quick succession, it was some minutes before she was able to do more than simply foam at the mouth. She twitched, having slid enough on the table that it was solely the cord keeping her tethered to the rolling table, her body stretched between them as she was pulled along by an appendage she didn’t want to admit was existing, but forced to do that much, she definitely didn’t want it used as a handle! Finally a brief respite appeared as another door shut behind them both, and she was ungrasped and left to lay there for a few moments in the dimly lit chamber.

“What... what are you doing to me...” Roll began, then hastily added as she saw her begin to turn towards her again, “Roll-sama?”

“Isn’t that much obvious?” Roll-sama returned with a small knife, working it carefully under the cord before pulling upwards, separating Roll from the table. “I’m playing. Experimenting.” She let her hands caress Roll’s flesh, filling the helpless girl with confusion and fear, certain that any gentleness was merely the lead-in to the new and greater pain. “Making you into my little freak-toy, whatever that’s going to end up being.” She slid her hands under Roll, lifting and turning to place Roll’s back against her chest, carrying her like she was some oversized doll, and with matching ease.

They were heading towards the one well lit part of the chamber, Roll could make out some sort of large seat behind a flat object that blocked most of the light from this side. Roll-sama carried her to the seat, then turned and sat down, both of them facing into the object now revealed to be an enormous mirror. Roll paled noticeably as she got her first good look at what had been done to her, at the still slightly charred tips of her abbreviated limbs, at the tiny tatters of the ribbons she’d been so proud of still clinging to her head. It was made all the worse by what sat behind her, what held her, this perverse mockery of her that was so utterly, exquisitely perfect and pristine in every fashion, save for what was ever so clearly an utterly shattered mind, twisted beyond the breaking point in every conceivable direction.

Roll jumped as Roll-sama’s fingers started roaming again, whimpering for her loss. Oh, she could understand what she was feeling right enough now that she was seeing, but she hadn’t wanted it yet, would never want it like this. She wept for what was being stolen as Roll-sama’s fingers spread her nethers and pressed inward, as she lost what she wanted to offer to Rockman when Meiru and Net finally stopped tiptoeing around each other. Her eyes darted involuntarily downwards as a touch grazed the thing, and she resolutely lifted her head upward again, bile rising in her throat. She was unable to tilt back far enough that she couldn’t see it in the mirror, but she could at least force it to only be in her peripheral vision.

“Aww, don’t like your welcome present? I know!” One of Roll-sama’s head tails slithered forwards, coiling like a spring before leaping to its target. She laughed at Roll’s sudden yelp of surprised discomfort, “Everybody’s happier with a package that’s wrapped in a pretty ribbon.”

Roll shuddered weakly, “Why are you doing this, Roll-sama?” calling her that left a foul taste in Roll’s mouth.

Roll-sama laughed again, the ribbon tugging at Roll playfully as Roll-sama’s fingers dove deeper, the other hand moving to fiercely squeeze Roll’s chest, “In part, because you’re pitiful. Because you’re a weak, useless, pale reflection of my glory.” She twisted the nipple just barely short of the point of injury, then let go and rubbed the breast it was attached to slowly, almost soothingly as she began to wiggle the fingers occupied down below. “Because you have the audacity, she shameless effrontery to continue to lay claim to a name that a sensible navi would’ve ceded to my clear superiority.” She let her hand fall, wrapping around the thing’s tip, starting to deliberately stroke it, leaning forward to force Roll’s head back down and make her watch.

Roll drowned in sensation, the hateful organ deluging her senses, invading her mind, she was ashamed at least as much of her helplessness against it, at her inability to control herself, to know how wrong the things she was feeling were and through the knowledge of that wrongfulness make herself impregnable against them, as she was by the presence of the thing itself. But in spite of hate and shame and disgust, to the part of her mind, the part of any mind wired directly to the pieces of flesh entwined by Roll-sama’s fingers, it felt good, and the pleasure besieged her. “In the end, though, those are all just justifications.” Roll-sama leaned her head down, licking impishly at the nape of Roll’s neck. “There’s only one reason I’m doing this, and it’s the same reason I do anything else.”

“In the end, it’s just because I can.”

Roll quaked, she wanted to flail, to fight... to flee. She wanted to escape from this horror, this abomination. But she could not. Even had she fists with which to strike, she could not run. Had she legs to carry her, it was inside her now, it was part of her, no matter where she fled she would carry the horrid thing with her. And with every touch of the hated hands it seemed to grow, not outside, but in. She didn’t want to admit how it felt, she didn’t want to think about how her body screamed along with her mind, but not for it to end, only for more, always for more. She closed her eyes tightly, as if perhaps in doing so she might somehow also shut her mind to the sensation.

“You will not stop watching.” Fingernails inside her made plain the threat.

Fear winched her eyelids slowly back. It was impossible not to see the wanton glee in her tormentor’s eyes as the fingertips deftly continued their dance, sending lances of hateful pleasure searing across her soul. Even were she unmarred, the wrongness of this would twist nauseatingly inside her, would provoke her to struggle, but she could admit the feelings as simply part of being alive, as part of how all bodies betray the minds that are saddled with them. But this abomination surged against the battlements of her sanity, a battering ram of pleasure that corrupted and absorbed what she could potentially fend off and threw it at her again in fashions against which she had no defence. She could hear her own breath growing steadily more ragged, could watch her chest heaving, had no choice but to observe as her turncoat body completed its mutiny. She had to make one last attempt, “Please... please stop... please let me go...”

Roll-sama laughed, pinching at the folds of her shamefully exposed flesh, only stroking her harder, “Not a chance.”

Roll twitched sharply, groaning helplessly, “But why? What do you want me for? What good am I to you with what you’ve done to me already?”

“Do you want to be deleted that badly?”

“What? No, I want to go home...” Roll twinged in fear, the suddenness of that question jolting her mind enough that she lost the grip on what defence she had managed, her hips jerking briefly.

Roll-sama grinned, her expression turning almost mocking, “You are home, as home as you’re ever going to get, so get used to it.” She shifted her hand upwards on the disgusting rod, rocking her palm around its tip and driving the tide of hateful pleasure steadily higher. “You’re mine now. There’s only one way you, or anyone, leaves my service.” She continues with that hand, giggling as Roll’s discomfort increased, her probing fingers in Roll’s vagina twisting and stroking, unerringly finding the places they sought to provoke deeper reactions, since of course she’d know every detail of the anatomy she was playing like some perverse musical instrument. It was where she came from, after all.

That thought fired a bit of resolve back into Roll. This monster was a copy of her, not the other way around, no matter how much it might wish otherwise. No matter what it did to her, no matter how she was tormented, that knowledge would sustain her, even through the strange swelling sensation building up well behind and slightly below her bellybutton. Er, what?

As though noticing it was some sort of key, it exploded. Something inside her trying to surge outward, sending the place she always had but didn’t think about into spastic convulsions as the swelling grew past and into the hateful thing, like some wild animal charging forth to escape... then stopped cold. Whatever it was, it could not pass the constricting ribbons, and where the pleasure she could never accept had been a hard-beaten invasion now a sudden desperation struck like a rain of boulders. She writhed, gasping for breath, “Please, please make it stop! Please let me go!” The strange confusion of agonizing pleasure and throbbing pain battered at her.

Roll-sama laughed, her tongue dancing upwards to Roll’s ear to nibble as she whispered, “Give me a reason. Why should I let you go?”

Roll simpered, unconsciously bucking her hips as her hindbrain sought what it ‘knew’ would breach that last barrier, “I... I... “ Roll stammered desperately, “I’ll do whatever you want!” She blurted, “I’ll do anything! Just please, please let me go!”

Roll-sama grinned wider than Roll had ever seen it. “Done. And in exchange, you’ll do everything I wish of you for the rest of your life. Exactly like you would have anyway, but now,” she paused, unclenching her ribbon and watching the penile orgasm it had prevented rocket into the air above them before continuing in a mocking tone, “now you’re cumming as a free woman. Well, free shemale doll-thing. I’m sure that makes you feel so much better.”

Roll spasmed, deaf to the words as the thing exploded, the world seeming to move in slow motion as the horrible pleasure overwhelmed her, as the disgusting fluid rocketed out in gush after gush, the world consisting only of two things she wanted to be rid of, the ecstasy controlling her flesh, and Roll-sama’s snide laughter. After an eternity, the moment passed, and the filth rained back down to splatter upon her, marking her as if to forever signify her fall, to declare her forever divorced from purity and grace.

“Aww, isn’t that just precious? Little dolly had its first cum!” She drove her tongue briefly into Roll’s ear before whispering, “Did you like it? It doesn’t really matter, but I can’t help but wonder how much filth you’ve always been hiding behind that pretty face... but for now, you’ve had a long day, and it’s time for bed.”

Roll was certain that this was not going to involve anything like the level of consideration or comfort that Roll-sama put into her tone. And was confirmed in her suspicions when what had seemed to be just a raised floor tile, a small metal square which protruded some handful of inches above the others to form a box with holes on the sides, rose up to reveal a large metal locker, towards which she found herself carried. She did not resist. What would be the point? She had nothing left to fight for, no purity, no dignity, no mission and no hope. She slumped there with her despair and the smell of her corruption for company as the door closed, and the light receded as the locker put itself away, plunging her into darkness save a handful of dots so very far above.

She shuddered, terrified of what new torture was to be inflicted upon her now, taking some time to realize that it was no more complex than that Roll-sama really did just see her as a toy, and she’d been put away for the night.

The day began to parade itself before her mind again as she lay crumpled in the box. She shied away from remembering Meiru sending her into this server, afraid of what she might do to that memory after what she had endured. It wasn’t Meiru’s fault for what she found here, for the horrible things she had done. Roll gagged as she remembered when her self-control had broken, the raging fit in which she had uncaringly deleted so many, the horrors she had wrought joining those which had been wreaked upon her.

She stifled a scream. She would not give Roll-sama the satisfaction of hearing her rail against her fate. Instead she sobbed in silence, tormented by the gruesome sticky slickness that painted her face and chest, twisted in her perceptions from blood through melted flesh and a thousand unmentionable ichors marring her with every conceivable sin, until at last exhaustion stole the light from her eyes, and she fell into the blackness of sleep.

Hot pink was not the best colour for sneaking. With the possible exception of with one’s back to a vibrant sunset, there was no lighting, no locale, no cover, no anything where one did not stand out like some manner of gigantic beacon. Technically, she was on a search and destroy, but she needed to survive the search in order to get to that next part. It would’ve made a lot more sense to send Rockman, or really, any other navi than her who actually was particularly good at combat, which was a lot different once you got out of the tournament and the only rule that mattered anymore was ‘don’t get deleted.’

Roll turned a corner slowly, then pulled immediately back as a blur of energy scythed through where she’d been about to put her head. Stupid freaky server barrier not letting male navis get through. Stupid being a light-frame custom type with less armour than some off-the-shelf navis. Stupid patrol groups of ultra-heavy gunners. Ultra-heavies! In groups! Big groups! Whatever was here, someone was paying big-time to protect it. She’d be more awed and less outraged if she wasn’t the one being shot.

The barrage started to drop out of synch. Oh joy, one of them was advancing under covering fire. She’d run out of useful bombs to chuck round corners ages ago, Meiru had left her plugged in and run off to try to get some more chips, what did she have? She ran through her remaining inventory of battlechips, and then swiftly through her inventory of swearwords, which was almost as pathetic.

Sadly, even the seventeenth repetition of ‘poot’ ‘drat’ ‘tool’ and ‘winnebago’ didn’t really help assuage her stresses and fears. At least they were UH-gunners, she did, in theory, have a chance against them in melee, since they didn’t really have any close-combat equipment.

Her attacker rounded the corner, and she charged, desperately looking for a good point of attack in her brief instant of opportunity. The silhouette was some ludicrous parody of the standard female navi, reinforced arms to each hold a massive gatling buster attached to a truly gargantuan chest above equally silly hips, connected by a waist barely wide enough to contain a spinal column, let alone anything else. The legs were reinforced so it could stay upright while firing, she didn’t have the kick in anything she had left to knock them over. She went for the only shot she could think of, arming the beam sword chip and thrusting for the throat.

She connected as she heard the cannons whirling up to speed, and closed her eyes to brace herself for oblivion. Instead the cannons started to slow back down, after a few moments clonking to a stop as the safety latched back in, and the enemy’s bulk began to topple over onto her.

But she had no time to savour this small victory; she wouldn’t be able to get the others the same way unless she moved -now-. She couldn’t shift the whole body, she cut again at the exposed spine, after a couple of swings it separated, and she stood up, grasping the upper torso of the fallen foe. They hadn’t been shooting anywhere below waist height. She knew better than to think that wouldn’t change if she went out scampering along the ground, but perhaps using the fallen one as a shield she might be able to get close enough to dive under their arc of fire and do to the other two as she had to the first. She howled her rage to fight back tears of fear, and charged. She struggled to keep her pace even under the force of the buster fire pummelling into the hulk she carried, she could feel it steadily getting lighter as she moved down the hallway. She heard an explosion behind her, and tried to speed up, the last thing she needed now was them to get reinforcements .

Finally, she could tell it wouldn’t hold up much longer, she straightened her arms in a snap, throwing the body ahead of her as a distraction in order to tuck down and leap along the floor and tumble towards their legs. She stopped in a crouch and swung. The blade pierced into one of the enemy’s legs... and stuck. No! Not now!

Nothing happened.

Roll swallowed, and looked up slowly. She saw the divots and holes in the walls of the hall she had just charged down, stray shots tracing the arcs as her attackers had turned to follow her approach. And then as she had tumbled, they... kept... turning. She spent several moment staring at the gutted remains of her foes, great rents torn through their chest armour and the body inside by their own guns. Not one to question her own survival, Roll still couldn’t help but be horrified that they hadn’t stopped firing when they’d been pointed at each other. Who... who would force living programs to act in such a way? Even mass-produced navis could feel.

She tried to fight down a surge of nausea as she realized that now was when one of the others would be feeling cocky, would say something like, ‘That’s what I call a turn of events!’ or something equally blithe. And all she could think about was that they were deleted, and because of that, she wasn’t. It was all so gruesome. She hadn’t paid attention to the bodies before. She’d thrown a grenade around the corner and run. This... this... She lost that battle, and threw up noisily. Now was not the time to fall apart.

She shakily pulled herself back together. Much as the notion repulsed her, now she was out of swords. She had to check over them, to see if there was any weapon data she could copy to some blank chips, or better, some weapon chips she could filch outright.

She shied away from the split open husks of their chests, moving towards the more intact, albeit no less gruesome heads. Normally there’d be somewhere to make a connection, to rifle through the systems for useful data, but the ports on their helmets were crudely welded over, horrid looking globs of once-melted metal scarring over the jacks. Well, technically a navi’s face was also supposed to be an I/O system, she could, maybe if she opened them up, she could load commands through their optics, and hijack their communication systems to download the chips... It... it wasn’t a horrible violation of their being if they were already deleted, right?

Roll recoiled, what was she thinking? How could she even be considering such a thing? The answer lay strewn around her in all its oozing glory. Remember Rule One. Don’t Get Deleted. She forced herself to reach for one of their heads. Whoever had sent them out had already done quite a number. They barely had what could be considered faces, buried as they were under so many layers of bands and strapping. She picked at them carefully, painfully aware of how exposed she was if another patrol happened along, finally managing to separate the clasp bonding the arrangement to the helmet. The part over its eyes came away first. Um, the part over where there had once been eyes came away first. Behind the straps was a pair of sockets, filled with large knots of cabling surmounted by dataports, around which the eyelids had been haphazardly sewn shut, stretching them enough in covering the mess to create several small tears. She stepped back, dropping the harness. Its weight pulled free the plate covering what once was a mouth. A frighteningly large spongy plug was torn out, revealing a featureless hole, which appeared to have been braced open by the expedient of grabbing whatever would fit and welding it inside. And yes, at the back was another port.

Roll gagged as she approached, the face that had been torn asunder long before she arrived had upon being unsealed given vent to a confusion of smells which she did not want to even begin to try and guess at. She had to do this. She unspooled some few cables from her wrist, cringing as she pushed them into the pitiful thing. She screamed as it seemed to move, then sighed, realizing it was just her own voltage briefly stirring the broken system. Her intrusion tearing forth one last breath- NO! She had to focus. In. Weapons. Out. Survive first. Feel it later. Cry later.

She dove through the code, not terribly surprised that there was little in the way of protections. Someone would have to be disgustingly depraved to access another navi’s system this way, merely restricting it to such fashions would normally be enough. Or desperate. Desperate would do it. She wasn’t like this. She didn’t have any other choice. She stamped her foot as she withdrew. Three MetHammer1 chips. She had defiled another navi, violated the self of another being, one who had no way to resist, tainted herself with a filth that, even if no-one else ever knew it was there, even if she never confessed even to Meiru what she had done, she would feel until she herself was deleted, and all she had to show for it was garbage. She turned her back on the worthless corpse, and came face to face with the other. No. No no no no no. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Not again. Never again.

She trembled, her breath quickening with fear and self-loathing, tears springing to her eyes as she hands started to shakingly move on their own towards the second head. Re-remember... remember rule one. Survival is what matters... survival is the first priority. Get through. Com- complete the mission. Get home. Feel it later. Hate it later. Do it now.

She was able to work faster from what she’d worked out on the first one, but as she reached for her wrist to get the cables ready again, she heard from behind her a rattling, scratchy voice whispering slowly as if, no, it was from beyond the grave.

“Security breached. Initializing sterilization.”

Roll heard the high-pitched whine begin, turning quickly, she saw the armour around the thing’s groin slowly open, exposing the power cells so that they wouldn’t explode until reaching the maximum output.

She ran, sobbing as she fled, her body pushed well beyond its limit as she dove into a small alcove just as the detonation filled the hall with plasma and shrapnel. The heat was unbearable, searing into her as huge voltages lanced out of the cloud of death as the blastwave passed. But she was sheltered from the worst of it, protected from the storm of metal that would have torn her to ribbons.

She twitched spastically as she got to her feet, laying on the ground in front of her was an inexplicably near-intact arm, still clutching one of the heavy cannons she had so feared. Something inside her snapped, and it was with a demented giggle that she kicked and stomped on the arm until it released the gun. It needed both hands for her to lift it, slinging it up onto one shoulder before triggering a spray of ordinance with wanton glee. She lurched onwards, filled with a wild-eyed abandon as she leapt about, unflinchingly blazing forth with her new acquisition at the slightest hint of motion that was not her own. Delete or be deleted, don’tcha know? It’s the way of the net!

Everything seemed so very simple. Whoever was slower to fire got deleted. So she had to shoot first. Nothing here would want to talk with her, and even if they did, they wouldn’t have anything useful to say. So why wait? The deleted couldn’t hurt her. If she deleted them all, then she’d be safe. It would be good to be safe, so it would be good to delete every navi she found here.

Armed with this certainty as much as the stolen cannon which made it possible, Roll fought as she never had before. Without hesitation, without empathy, she ambushed her opponents one by one and... sent them away. They didn’t matter. They couldn’t touch her anymore. She was awash in the carnage of battle, and for the first time she could remember, it did not revile her. One by one they fell, one by one, one and all. She shouldered open the door to a chamber, uncaring that there were at least a dozen navis gathered inside.

“I hope you’re ready to be deleted!” Click. Clickclickclick. What?

The frenzied feeling of invulnerability disappeared as suddenly as it had come, and Roll found the aftermath of her berserk rage to be the abject terror of realizing she was standing completely exposed, brandishing an empty weapon towards a group in possession of a ludicrously large number of the same which probably weren’t. She could always try seizing the enemy’s weapons again, but there was the problem of making them let go of it first. She was dimly aware as she turned to flee of a worryingly familiar and smug voice saying, “Take her. Alive. And bring her.”

There was no answer, there didn’t need to be as some fourty-odd feet thudded against the floor in unified pursuit. Much as she had that order to thank for the fact that she had not immediately developed a certain visual similarity to a category of dairy product, what someone giving orders to these disfigured things might want her alive for didn’t bear consideration. Oh thankyou mind. Fine, what she herself had been doing to them ever so recently probably was something she needed to give serious thought to, but Not Right Now!

Her eyes darted about as she ran, there had to be something she could do, somewhere she could hide, some way to get away from her pursuers. She turned suddenly without looking. Getting away from her pursuers didn’t allow trying to go through other patrols. She should’ve looked.

On the plus side, she had enough momentum that upon being clotheslined she half-skidded, half-tumbled across the floor well out of easy reach of the patrol she hadn’t intended to try to break through. Would’ve been better if this didn’t have her scrabbling to her feet in the last few feet of a dead end.

Panic set in rather quickly. They didn’t move in, they didn’t need to. As more and more arrived, they formed an impenetrable wall of metal and flesh. They defeated her without making a single attack. Somehow their silence, their utter lack of expression behind the horrid masks was all the more galling than the gloating she was used to hearing from an enemy that thought her at their mercy.

Well she still wouldn’t go down without a fight! She rallied herself and leapt at them, devoid of weapons she struck out with fist and foot, the sheer brashness of her assault allowing her to make some measure of headway. But it could not last. Soon, too soon an unbearably strong grip closed on one arm in the midst of its swing. The other lashed towards this first to impede her, but it too was claimed as she was lifted from the floor. She screamed her frustration, lashing out with both legs, trying to kick at the enemy, to strike at anything she could, her outcries dwindling to snivels as all but the two holding her simply backed out of reach, their passivity more loudly than any jeer declaring her nonexistence as a threat. She struggled with despair as well as her captors when the group broke up, most going to resume interrupted patrols as she was carried back along the route by which she had fled. She managed to make a kick connect, forcing one of them to stagger. It responded by lashing out with its other hand, first to punch her squarely in the gut, then to take hold on one of her ribbon-tails, yanking on it cruelly, evidently meaning to use the pain to force her into docility.

She would have none of that! She knew where they were taking her, and no small amount of pain was going to see her going there willingly! She twisted with herculean effort, and brought a heel to a resounding crash in the other’s face. This bought her the freedom of one arm, in fact both as the one holding her by the ribbon let go with the other hand. It still wasn’t a good thing, as it swiftly grabbed the other, and used this leverage to whirl her around twice before slamming her into the wall.

She didn’t move after she fell to the floor, the impact having knocked the breath out of her. The drone navi seemed content to simply drag her along the floor, littered as it was with jagged debris that bumped and bruised her as it went. It didn’t take long before she was willing to let this happen, too. Something about how she’d evidently found how long it took to exhaust their patience, and the slightest twitch from her induced her captor to haul on her ribbon-tails and flail her against some convenient immovable object. It wasn’t too much longer before she was hauled back into the room she had so foolishly charged, the navi holding her stepping on her back and lifting its arm upwards, dragging her head upwards so that she could see the cause of all this.

What? No... that... that was impossible! “You!” was all she could say. Memory assaulted her, there had been one other time deletion had not reviled her, when in some sick delusion she had been convinced that everyone around her, no, that the entire universe had existed in pointlessness before she had arrived to reshape it to her fancy. And it was her own face she stared into now, perfect and unblemished and all the more horrid for it with the sneer it wore, the expression of utter contempt that said the only thing to hope for in her grasp was to be boring enough to be worth killing.

The abomination smiled, reaching down to take her chin between thumb and forefinger, idly wiggling her head back and forth, “Me indeed, but not you.” She spat, striking Roll in the bridge of the nose. “NEVER you. I’m more than you ever were, and more than you could ever be.”

Roll shuddered weakly, her breath rasping in her throat, “What do you want with me?”

The dainty pink boot lashed out, slicing across her forehead, tearing a hot, stinging welt. “Insolent little idiot, aren’t you? What makes you think you can talk to me like more than the lowliest of filth? You know how you lesser beings should speak to me.”

She bridled, tensing to try to fight, but seemingly sensing it the navi holding her jerked briefly, turning her intended epithet into a gasp of pain, “Wh-what do you want with me...” she trailed off briefly, the words choking in her throat, she couldn’t, couldn’t admit that this horrid monster, this demon was... she saw her frown deepen, and forced it out, “...Roll-sama?”

It kicked her again anyway. “To own you. At least in general. As the eternal pinnacle of female navis, it’s perfectly reasonable that my inferiors should be my property. And pitiful wretch that you are, you are a female navi, of a sort, and so rightfully mine. As to what specifically I’m going to do with you, I haven’t decided.”

Roll closed her eyes, the images of the drones she had... encountered so many of kept flashing through her mind, conjuring up horrible thoughts of what it would probably be like to undergo the process of joining them. She had to hope. Doubtless, as soon as Meiru got back to the terminal where she’d left her PET, as soon as she saw what was happening, she’d activate the emergency recall and rescue her, they’d find some other way to attack this server, especially knowing what was here. Surely, surely Meiru couldn’t be too far away...

“Of course,” the demon continued, “Our systems bear a certain similarity. Some might even be stupid enough to mistake your incompetence for my magnificence! We’ll definitely have to fix that.” It nodded, and the navi holding Roll pulled harder, stretching her neck upwards as the tension increased.

“No, that’s the wrong place to break. Let me.... help!” She punctuated the final word by dropping her full weight into a stomp on the back of Roll’s head, the two ribbons from her temples stretching briefly before parting from her head with a sickening snap, and a blaze of agony that tore into her very soul, coaxing forth a writhing, thrashing scream that ended in coughing blood from her throat. She cried helplessly, unable to move as she lay there in shock and her ribbons were used to bind her limbs.

She snivelled as it grabbed what remained, the purely decorative ponytail at the back of her head, though having her weight on it was no less painful.

Roll-sama laughed, picking her up by the neck to lick the tears from her cheek, “Little fool. I hope you’re not broken already, I’ve barely begun to play with you.” She turned to the drone, “To the slab! And keep her awake!”

It took a considerable period of dragging for Roll’s battered psyche to process that seemingly inexplicable command, to realize that there was, in fact, an alternative to remaining aware of what was happening. Normally forcing herself to reboot was something she would only do in the safest of circumstances, but right now? Right now she decided that it made much more sense to risk whatever greater torment they might inflict for the blessed release of unconsciousness to free her from the pain now, if but for a brief respite. She ignored it as fingers scrabbled at her face, soon she would sleep, and whatever state she might wake in, it couldn’t be as bad as going through getting to it. She shuffled processes madly as a tube was pushed into her mouth, briefly distracted as it made her gag at her throat, but the tube itself swelled to latch in place and crawl more deeply into her. Ina moment, just a moment longer, and it wouldn’t matter. She’d filed everything, and now would shut down.

Shut down.

Shut down.

Why wasn’t she shutting down? Her eyes flicked about madly for an answer, even as the tube penetrated enough to bring a clear mask into place over her nose and mouth. She saw it as the thing was buckled into place, the straps driving into the edges of her helmet. The tube led to a small console which was watched by a strange black mettaur. And on the console screen was... her! Her systems! Her memories! The tube was letting something into her and giving them access, giving them control! She threw every override she could think of to try to shut herself down, and despaired as she saw the only effect was that they came up on screen to be logged for them to use against her later. They yanked at her head again, although this time they probably hadn’t meant to. The drone was trying to lift her up toward a tiled portion of wall decorated with a frightening number of gouges and divots. The tube didn’t reach. The drone pulled again, and one of the mettaurs turned suddenly to emit a shrill series of bleats which, despite her having no way to glean their precise meaning, certainly carried the tone that someone was about to get spiked.

The drone simply held her there as the Mettaurs conferred, and Roll was disgusted by how grateful she was even for this moment of peace. But all too soon a conclusion was reached, and under new orders, the drone carefully turned her upside down, tearing her legs free of the ribbon in order to place them into the clamps at the top of the table. When they tore the ribbon from her arms as well she tried to swing, but was lost to convulsions as the Mettaurs sent lightning cascading into her through the tube, after which she just hung limply, staring at the tatters on the floor that used to be part of her body.

They grasped her wrists, pulling them toward the clamps at the bottom corners of the slab. She tried to hold still, it was achingly uncomfortable, but there was one particular thing making it worse which she hoped they wouldn’t see from fear of what their solution would entail.

The mettaur at the console chirped irritatedly, and the drone nodded. It reached behind her, pulling her ponytail up between her legs so it lay taut along the slab, powered up a beam sword, and spiked it into place.

She screamed into the tube, though the tears springing to her eyes were not from that pain. At least it wasn’t as bad as she’d thought.

Terror rose again as a quartet of mechanical arms started to swing menacingly into place around her, part of her wanted to look away, part of her knew she would be better off if she didn’t look, but some horrible impulse forced her to watch the tips of the arms open, revealing syringes full of a bubbling blue ooze, each flanked by a tiny laser that tingled through her suit where it struck her. The first one started to move closer, penetrating the flesh of her thigh. It sat there for some few moments, before the injector began to move.

Roll had been there to help Rockman fighting LavaMan in the furnace server. She had thought she knew about heat, and how it hurt. How far it could go, what it could do, where sensation simply stopped from overabundance. As her leg churned and boiled, as the horrid substance coursed through her flesh and seemed to be cooking her from the inside, she learnt otherwise. She felt it spreading from the injection site as her leg swelled, as muscle and bone began to soften like taffy on a stove. She twitched slowly, the sheer intensity slowing her reaction as even reflex was swamped by her every cell wailing in agony. What little of her mind could think through the tides of torment was focused on how unfair it was that she still could feel as the stuff moved through her, as it was carried to begin its horrible work beyond her knee, devouring her shin and foot. She saw and felt her leg go truly limp, no mere slackness of muscle, but as thought it held no solidity at all, and yet still she felt. She could feel her flesh flowing inside the leg of her suit, could feel her bones dissolving into that formless mass of blazing pain. Two of the mettaurs floated up to work on her leg, hooking their picks into her suit, lifting upwards at the separating overlap between the leg and her boot, evidently trying to avoid spilling what her flesh had become. The horrid smell as a glop struck her cheek was but one more note in the cacophony that roiled inside her, terrible enough by itself, here it was merely an accent, a footnote to the animalistic panic that consumed her.

At last it seemed it was almost finished, at least the pain was beginning to recede enough for her to notice again her other injuries, which now included a small, sharp pain in the inside of her right elbow. She thrashed her head in a panic. How long had that been there? How long had they deliberately waited for her to reach a state where she would feel it again as they- Thought ended as the second injector depressed. Her arms were slim, it worked faster than in her leg, her fingers stiffening into an agonized claw that twisted unnaturally as her wrist lost cohesion enough to hold its weight.

Roll did not notice as her murk-filled boot was carried off, or the suitleg drained into a large basin. The third had fired as well, and she was discovering just how bad life could be without the capacity to pass out. She longed for it. Escape would be nice. Safety would be nice. Oh, certainly, if she somehow got out of this, nothing would ever get her out of Meiru’s PET again.

But she didn’t want any of that right now. They’d be great if they happened, but all her desires were bent on a single thing. By the first bit, why wouldn’t the hurting stop?

Her gloves started to slither wetly from her sleeves; no special care was taken beyond placing bowls beneath her absurdly swollen hands to catch them as they fell, alongside the torrent of blackened ex-flesh torn from her body.

The sword was pulled free, and set her to swinging by her remaining leg. The movement jolted some life back into her, and once again despite all reason found herself staring upward at the almost hypnotic motion of the arm as it tracked her leg back and forth, waiting for her to fall still.

And then it struck. She would have liked to believe the lull would have allowed her to rally her mind, to prepare some internal defence against the onslaught, but she could not. And otherwise unsupported, as her thigh began to weaken, she was treated to the experience of her own weight tearing apart her otherwise still mostly intact leg, sinew and bone snapping and dropping her heavily to the floor even as they continued to disintegrate. She wiggled, trying to summon up the will to move, to push through the pain and, oh, twitch violently or something, mount some token resistance to prove that what they did to her body had not won them her mind. She failed, and simply lay there as her left leg splattered over her like an upended bucket of tar.

The mask unlatched, leaving the straps dangling across her face as it withdrew, taking the tube with it. She immediately tried again to shut down, and heard the warning buzz from the console that made clear that still wasn’t an option.

Footsteps approached, not the heavy clump of the drones or the lighter step of mettaurs, but a firmly insistent clicking gait that was all the more foreboding. A brightly polished pink boot with some smears of red near the toes came down in front of her eyes, stepping firmly into the puddle of glop.

“There,” came the self-satisfied gloat, “you’re much cuter like this, wouldn’t you agree?”

Roll refused to answer. Even if she had the strength to spit some epithet, it would be exactly what this delusional falsehood would want, for her to rise to the baiting. As all she was likely to be able to muster was a whimpering groan, she opted for silence instead.

“Come now, there’s no reason not to be civilized,” as if anything here was. The impostor frowned, “Speak when you’re spoken to, filth!”

She remained silent. This sort of resistance was easy.

The scowl deepened. “You insolent garbage! You have the temerity to show yourself before me, the unbridled audacity to SOIL me! And now a piece of... of obsolescence like you dares to disobey me?!”

Roll trembled, terror at what might happen if she was provoked further driving her to try to do something, anything to assuage things. She opened her mouth, but no sound emerged.

The villainess smiled anyway. “Even you can have good ideas. I’m not entirely without mercy. I’m sure I can forgive you at least a little bit... if you clean up your own mess!” She thrust the bloodied toe forwards, jamming it into Roll’s mouth.

Roll simply lay there in shock, what was she doing? What did she expect of her? Why would she do something so disgusting? Roll didn’t really expect to have any chance of comprehending the third of those. Someone who would do the rest of the things she’d seen, let alone what had just been done to her, well, who knew what they would consider disgusting? But this certainly wasn’t what she meant, and she didn’t know what to do!

She wriggled her foot insistently, “Well? If you were expecting me to wash my own foot, I’m sure I can arrange a life consisting entirely of things simply being done to you. Or maybe I’ll just let the last of the reagent keep working inward from your stumps. It’ll delete you eventually, but as ways to check out go, I assure you, it’s only pleasant to watch.”

Roll whimpered, reluctantly starting to try to suck the vile stains from the boot, licking at the rubber made greasy by the goop, terrified by the notion that that horrible blue devilment was still inside her. She sobbed as she suckled, having to twist agonizingly to lift her head from the boot, able to see the bloodstain further up that she was sure she would be further tortured if she didn’t take the initiative with some appeasement.

“Good. I’m not surprised, even though you are but a pale, infinitely inferior reflection of my glory, there is still something of me in you, so of course you can be taught.” She smiled as Roll continued terrifiedly, starting to lick at her ankles, and went on in a warm, almost affectionate voice that still brought Roll no comfort whatsoever, “Which is good, because I have so very much to teach you.”

~~~

Hey everyone, I wanted to share a story that I commissioned to go along with these images (https://e-hentai.org/g/186477/7997b53a12/ https://www.reddit.com/r/guro/comments/1geo2n3/rolls\_nightmare\_by\_s\_zenith\_lee\_commissioned\_by\_me/).

The author is kite-san (https://www.deviantart.com/kite-san)

The aching in your bound tits was getting unbearable. You looked down and saw they were turning green and black and you began to scream and writhe to try to loosen up the ropes. Your movements caused the strings attached to your nipple clamps to relax and tighten, pulling hard on your nipples. You felt an intense pain as your right nipple suddenly ripped off, flying off with the clamp still attached. Dark red blood spurted out onto the floor, relieving the pressure in your breast. I heard your screams and came out just as your left nipple was torn off. I came over and beat your ass with the strap “look at the fucking mess you made, you ignorant cunt!” You began to cry, “sorry Sir, I was just trying to get my tits loose. They’re so sore.” I grabbed a knife and cut the ropes binding your tits and the rush of fresh blood made it feel like energized jumper cables had been attached to your missing nipples. I lowered you to the floor and bandaged the holes in your breasts where your nipples used to be. I carried your passed out body to the bedroom, shackled you to the bed and let you sleep.

I came in and smacked the soles of your feet with a bamboo cane “wake up slut. Get your ass in the shower and clean the sweat, piss and cum from your disgusting body. And to think at one time I thought you were sexy. You’re fucking hideous.” The warm water felt good and being clean made you feel almost human again. You looked in the mirror and saw your wrecked tits, black and blue with sores where your nipples used to be. I came in as you finished drying off, moving behind you and groping your tits, my hard cock pressed into your ass cheeks. “Mmm, you look much better, fuck meat.” I bent you over the sink and slid my cock in your pussy. You were still sore, but quickly entered sub space and began to fuck back into me “that feels so good, thank you for using my mangled pussy Daddy.” You watched in the mirror as I fucked you, my hands on your tits pulling you down on my cock. You started to cum as you felt my cock throbbing inside you, “oh fuck Daddy, shoot your seed in my ripe pussy, give me your rape baby, oh god I’m cumming all over your dick!” I grunted as I finished, my cum dripping from your cunt as I pulled out. I pushed you to your knees, spanked your ass hard, and said “clean up that cum from the floor, you nasty cum slut,” and held you by the hair, pushing your face to the floor as you licked up my cream. As I left, I said “finish up in here and get your ass back to your room, you have fuck toy work to do today.”

I dressed you in a tight red skirt, a pink bare midriff top, black fishnet stockings a red high heals. I took you to my car and drove you downtown next to the civic center where a metal concert was letting out. I pulled a thin mattress from my trunk and tossed it next to the dumpster behind the building, then started to whore you out to the men leaving the concert. As I took their money, I told them “do whatever you want to this broken down street whore, she doesn’t care as long as she gets fucked and filled with cum. Beat her, rape her, use her three, four or five guys at a time, 20 bucks for 10 minutes.”

A steady stream of men used your holes for the next two hours, fucking your throat, pussy and ass hard, coating you with cum inside and out. They beat your ass and tits, slapped and punched your face, raped your cunt and ass with beer bottles. After the last guy blew his load in your pussy, I dragged your broken body to my car, your right eye swollen shut, your lip split and bruises on your neck, arms and thighs. As you sat leaned against the car door, you said weakly, “thank you for giving me so many cocks and so much cum Daddy,” then passed out.

You slept for 16 hours and awoke in unimaginable pain. I came in, shoved my hand in your cunt and said “You look like shit, fuck meat. You’re gonna be worthless for a day or two.” I grabbed your phone and said “let’s see if you have any cock teasing whore friends I can use while you’re out of commission.” I scrolled through your pictures and said “whoa, who’s this?!” You answered weakly “Alisa.” I found her number and sent her a text from you asking her to come to my address to pick you up, explaining you’d tell her all about your threesome with a hot guy and his girlfriend last night. You got up to take a piss, then passed back out when I left the room. It didn’t register to you that you weren’t bound.

When Alisa knocked, I grabbed her arm and threw her on the floor. She started to scream “What the fu…” and I kicked her in the stomach, snatched her up by the hair and ripped her top off. I groped her tits as she tried to get her breath back, “fuck you have a nice rack, rape meat.” She struggled to break free from my grip on her hair, grabbing at my arm, sobbing “R-rape meat? Please no, don’t do this, don’t …” I pulled her to her knees, unzipped my pants and shoved my cock in her mouth, laughing “I know how to shut up a dirty cock whore, choke on this dick.” I pushed my dick in balls deep, holding her face tight against my stomach. She choked and gagged, her arms flailing, impotently trying to push me away. I pulled out, pushed her on the floor and cuffed her arms behind her back, then dragged her down to the basement.

As she continued to sob and plea for mercy, I bent her over a large oaken beam, the rough wood digging into her ribs. I took the cuffs off and tied her arms to the beam, then attached a spreader bar to her ankles. I moved behind her and she grimaced and screamed as I forced my cock in her ass. I moaned as I raped her dirty hole, “holy fuck, what a tight little asshole. You might just be my anal only rape whore.” I pulled out and shoved my cock in her pussy, “god damn, your cunt feels even better than your ass. What a fine bit of rape meat you are!” Just as you had, she closed her eyes and told herself “he’ll let me go after he fucks me, I just have to get through this.” She sobbed even harder when I pulled out, grabbed a wooden paddle and mercilessly beat her ass.

I walked away and she heard as I rolled the thrusting sex machine over, pushed the dildo attachment in her pussy and turned it on at a medium setting. The three-inch thick, 12-inch dildo pushed in and out of her over and over while I straddle it and pushed my cock in her ass. She called out “oh fuck, what are you doing you perverted bastard? That fucking hurts so bad, please stop, please, please, please!” I sneered, “you know you love it, don’t you slut, you love getting both your holes filled. Your friend loved it so much she took two cocks in both of her holes at the same time.” You pipped up “I did love it soooo much Daddy, you need to bring your friends back over, Alisa needs to feel their hard meaty dicks inside her, she’ll cum so hard!”

I turned and smiled at you “hey fuck meat, I thought you’d be resting, but I’m glad you joined us. Her mouth is free.” You walked up to her and put your bruised pussy in her face, your hands wrapped in her hair, “mmm, that’s it babygirl, lick and suck my cunt.” She looked up at your swollen face and bruised body, and sobbed uncontrollably as her tongue ran up the folds of your pussy. I thrust in deep and fucked her hard, but pulled out, spanked her bruised ass, then shoved my dick back in. I pulled out and penetrated her over and over before finally pushing in and raping her ass hard.

I turned the fuck machine up higher and matched my pace, pumping in and out of her ass like piston. She felt my cock get harder and I pushed in deep, my cock throbbing as I shot my cum deep in her ass. You licked your lips and said sweetly “can I lick your dirty cock clean Daddy? Please, I want to taste her ass.” I pulled out, walked up to you and punched you in the swollen tits “don’t be greedy princess, let pretty little Alisa clean Daddy’s sloppy cock off. You can eat my cum from her ass.” You scurried around, spread her gaped asshole open even wider, saying “sorry for being a bad girl Daddy, thank you for letting me slurp your cum from her ass.” I moved around smacked her face hard and commanded, “lick your foul ass from my cock, whore.” She sobbed, “no, please don’t make me do that. Alina said she would do it, please …” I grabbed her by the hair, forced my hand down her throat, pulled it out and shoved my cock in. I mauled her tits and twisted and tugged on her nipples while I held her head still and she sucked my softening cock.

I finally took my cock out of her mouth, grabbed the paddle, told you to move and beat her ass again, the fuck machine still assaulting her pussy. I handed you the paddle, saying “beat this little whore, turn the machine off when you’re done,” and walked away. She looked back at you “please don’t do this Alina, what’s wrong with you?!” You flashed an insane grin as you swung the paddle and your pussy gushed as it hit her soft round ass. I smiled and walked up the stairs and out of the basement.

A human wakes up in Equestria with a splitting headache and a kind, concerned pony tending to him.

Unfortunately for the ponies, the human thinks he's dreaming.

Doubly unfortunately, he's a sadistic snuff freak who's been beating off to the thought of raping and murdering ponies for a decade, and he thinks this is a harmless, consequence-free place to indulge his fantasies.

Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie have both cum their brains out while Anon fucks and slaughters them. Now, it's Applejack's turn.

The characterizations here are based on wiki dives, watching a few clips, and consuming some pony R34 content. I'd love to hear how accurate the characters/voices are, and who you'd like to see snuffed next.

I'd also love to hear if you like this, if I fucked up any important lore/characters, and what you'd like to see next (if anything).

We'll see how far into the main six ponies we get. Three down, three to go.

Inspired in many ways by this series of MLP songs I stumbled on: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLvnphC6j1PEF0NQqgUaSULQ1VCzibKvH

(MLP, human/pony, rape, gutting, sister/sister incest, anal.)

Chapter 1: Fluttershy's Brutal Anal Extermination.

Chapter 2: Pinkie Pie's Fatal Throatfuck.

Most recent stories:

Asian Sisters' Biker Rape Hell (WMAF raceplay, M+/FF, sister incest, gang rape, stabbing)

The Panda (Roaring '20s Harlem underground, Mafia, shooting, blowjob)

The Consent Context (various snuff methods, dubcon & noncon)

My story index.

Chapter 3 - Applejack Spills Her Guts

The sun was high in the sky as Anon wandered through the technicolor fantasyland of Equestria. Somehow, everything was exactly the same as he thought it would be from the show, but also completely different. The perspective of being in the show, in this dream, was so altered that he couldn’t find his way around a landscape he knew like his own neighborhood.

He was still a little high from the events of the last few hours – possibly actually high as well, from whatever swamp magic had fueled the potion that banished his hangover.

Thinking of the potion made him think of Fluttershy, which made him think of Fluttershy moaning and cumming as he buttfucked her, which made his cock throb in his pants. He reached down to rearrange his erection.

Simultaneously, he realized the air was fragrant with apples, and he saw a rope drop across his vision. Then there was an almighty jerk from behind, and he was flying through the air, dragged by the lasso holding his arms to his midsection.

He slammed into a tree hard enough to knock the wind out of him, and an orange hoof crashed into the tree next to his head, hard enough to leave a perfect horseshoe mark and shake the whole tree. Vision swimming from the violent movement, Anon quickly focused on the furious, flushed face of Applejack.

“You’ve got a heck of a lot of nerve, coming around here after what you did to Fluttershy!”

She picked up the end of the lasso and quickly ran around the tree, tying him tightly against it. With that done, she returned to stand in front of him.

“I saw it all. Princess Celestia might not think you realize what you’re doing, but I know different.”

Anon’s eyebrows raised. “Pinkie Pie said something like that. You all… saw it?”

Applejack’s cheeks darkened further. “Yeah, we all saw you rape her. And we saw…”

“Oh, shit,” Anon said. “You all watched her cum while I buttfucked her?”

“Well… yes.”

“And while I was impaling her slutty little asshole on that tree branch?”

“Yes!” Applejack shouted.

Then her eyes widened. “Did you say Pinkie Pie?”

“Yep, I was just at Sugarcube Corner. Pinkie’s even sluttier than Fluttershy. Or was sluttier.”

“Oh, Celestia,” Applejack said faintly. She sat down on her haunches, her belly suddenly full of butterflies, remembering Pinkie’s excited reaction to Fluttershy’s violent slaughter. “She probably just let you do it, didn’t she?”

Anon nodded. “She was really into it.”

His eyes narrowed. “Kinda seems like you’re pretty into it, too.”

She glared at him. “I’m not!” she snapped. “I’m just…”

When Applejack had been younger, she had witnessed a horrible accident at the sawmill. A distant cousin of hers, a pretty red mare named Winesap, had slipped up and fallen right across a spinning sawblade.

The steel blade had torn her belly open in an instant, spilling her guts across the mill floor, her screams joining with the scream of the saw.

Applejack had watched in horror as Winesap tried to pull herself up, to get away from the blade, but with that awful wound she was too weak, and she just sank down further on the blade. Before anyone could turn it off she was almost completely sliced in half.

Winesap had died sobbing and hopelessly trying to scoop her intestines back into her ruined belly.

It had tormented Applejack for years, nightmares and daytime terrors filling her until as she aged out of fillyhood the uncomfortable feelings those memories brought mingled with the hormonal energies of a young mare.

Soon she was humping her hooves to the conflicted, frightening, but intensely arousing thoughts of what it would feel like to be opened up like that, to feel her guts slopping out of her body. To feel the helplessness, the terror and the raw sensation of it.

Ponies’ reproductive cycle allowed them to enjoy sex year-round, but during the breeding season mares would experience a series of roughly week-long estrus cycles. When she was properly in heat, Applejack would masturbate for hours. More often than not, she was thinking about being gutted.

“You’re spacing out. What were you thinking about?”

Applejack was feeling flustered. “None of your dang business, you scum-sucking pink monkey,” she snarled.

“Did you like watching your friend wriggling while I tore her guts up?” Anon pressed.

As he spoke, he fished his pocket knife out of his back pocket. Applejack wasn’t used to tying up creatures equipped with hands and pockets and pocket knives. He just had to keep her off-balance so she wouldn’t notice what he was doing.

For her part, Applejack was struggling mightily. She was thinking about Fluttershy’s guts, about the wooden spike gouging its way through them, about the blood and the agony.

She was wishing, horribly, that he had sliced Fluttershy’s straining tummy open and let those ruined insides gush out into the air.

“You don’t know a darn thing about me!” she said, getting back on all fours despite her shaking knees. She was aching with arousal, and she tried to lie to herself that she was thinking about something, anything except what was actually turning her on so much.

“Maybe I should put my hooves through your monkey skull, no matter what Princess Celestia says.”

“What did Princess Celestia say?”

He was sawing at the rope now, fascinated by the conflict he saw stamped on Applejack’s honest face, in her body language, even as he thought about the massive power of her kicks that she’d just displayed right next to his head.

“She’s got this cockamamie idea that you think you’re dreaming,” Applejack said bitterly. She looked up at him through eyes dark with anger and lust. “I say dreams like that oughta be a hanging offense regardless.”

The hair on the back of her neck was standing up, and it was getting increasingly difficult not to arch her back. Her belly was tingling, heat spreading through her body.

“This is the best dream I’ve ever had,” Anon said, with perfect honesty.

The last strand of the rope parted, and before Applejack could react Anon had pushed away from the tree and tackled her. She screamed in surprise, and he wasn’t surprised at the hint of a moan in the sound as they crashed together into a fencepost.

He could smell her oddly sweet sweat as they struggled together on the ground. Applejack was strong, and those hooves were deadly weapons.

He just had to keep her off balance.

So he shoved his hand between her legs and got a tight grip on her slippery-wet marehood.

Applejack’s eyes rolled back in her head and she sort of curled towards him as the pressure of his hand on her nethers broke through all her efforts to restrain her twisted lust.

“Get your darn hands off…” she snarled, but then her hips rolled against her will, pressing her mare pussy against his hand, and her voice trailed off in a moan as she squeezed her eyes shut, cheeks hot with shame.

He might not have much time before she recovered, so he knew he had to act fast. Applejack might be ridiculously strong for her size, but she was still pony-sized.

Hooking his left arm under her forelegs, he hoisted her up, her back to his belly. Her lower legs fell slightly open, and he took full advantage. Before she could react, his hand was covering her vulnerable pussy, his middle and ring fingers thrusting into her tight, wet heat.

“Stop that!” she pleaded. “I’m…”

He bit her ear and ground the heel of his hand hard against her clit, and she threw her head back and moaned.

“You really, really liked watching me fuck up Fluttershy’s organs, huh?”

“I didn’t!”

“Aren’t you supposed to be honest?” he said. Pulling his fingers out of her, he squeezed her clit hard. “This is honest, at least. It’s telling me you need to get fucked.”

A whirlwind of thoughts and feelings spun through Applejack’s overstimulated head. Anger, hate, lust, humiliated pleasure, a million potential actions.

As he draped her forelegs over the fence, she landed on an easy excuse.

I’ll just let him scratch my itch a little. Then when I’ve gotten my rocks off and I can focus, I’ll break his darn head open.

It seemed like a reasonable compromise between her brain’s need for revenge and her pussy’s need for a good hard rutting. She felt her back curving, presenting herself for his use, and she sucked in a breath as she felt his body pressing against her.

Applejack had only ever slept with stallions, and she was used to their mostly-cylindrical cocks. But Anon was much larger than a stallion, and when she felt the comparatively enormous bulge of his cockhead pushing insistently against her pussy, she started to have second thoughts.

“Now wait just a minute, there’s no way that’s gonna fi-i-I-I-I-T!”

Her eyes opened wide, her protest rising into an unusually high-pitched sound as his hard human dick stretched her pony pussy past anything it was ready for. If she hadn’t been dripping wet at her horribly violent fantasies, he would never have been able to get inside her.

But she was, and he did, and that massive presence was pushing in. He slid deeper inside her, her slippery pussy walls clasping tight against him and sending fluttery zaps all over her body.

She could feel it in her skin, in her belly, hammering in her heart as the man who’d raped and murdered her friend Fluttershy, who’d slaughtered that stupid slut Pinkie Pie, claimed her aching equine cunt.

He was grunting and groaning behind her as he shoved himself inside, ruthlessly taking her, and it felt like her first time again. She was on fire, she was in heat, she could almost feel her organs shifting out of the way to make room for that monster cock.

And his fingers found her clit, and she clasped the fence with her forelegs for dear life as she came on his hard girth.

“Jeez, that was even faster than Pinkie Pie,” Anon said, leaning in and nuzzling her neck. She started to say something and he bit, hard, his tongue tasting her sweat.

Words vanished, and there was nothing but pure, raw sex.

It was like nothing she’d ever felt. The sensations bubbled up through her nervous system into her brain, filling it up until it felt like she was swelling with the sheer overpowering sense of getting fucked.

He gripped her tail with his left hand and roughly shoved his right thumb up her asshole, and she wailed as the fresh stimulus rocked her.

My guts! My guts!

That pressure in her butt seemed to reverberate through her innards until she couldn’t bear it anymore.

“What did you say?”

“Oh, Celestia! Oh, I can feel you in my guts!” she moaned.

“That’s right, you little slut,” he said, pumping his thumb in and out of her butthole as he fucked her. It was igniting an awful, tingling anticipation inside her belly, little butterfly thrills spreading through her organs, pulsating inside her. It was felt so wonderful and so unbearable that it made her lightheaded.

“I’m gonna… I’m…”

“You’re what?”

“I’m gonna cave your skull in, you freak!” she hissed as her thighs shook with another climax.

He stopped his thrusting and stepped back, and the feeling of him slowly pulling out of her made Applejack shudder.

Cocking his head, he looked at her. She was shivering and sweating, her forelegs still thrown over the fence, her ass cocked up for him, and she was looking back at him with hooded eyes, the need for revenge submerged in orgasmic pleasure.

“Why didn’t you knock my block off when you had me lassoed?” he suddenly asked.

“I…”

Applejack stammered, her chest throbbing. She thought she could feel her pulse in her pussy, juicing her up.

“I think you wanted something from me,” he mused, tapping his lips with his finger. He took a step away and picked his pocket knife up from the ground.

Applejack moaned, then he pressed the tip of the knife against her belly, just below her sternum.

She stood stock still, eyes vibrating, mouth open, lost in another world.

She should move. She should get away, she should break his bones and end his life, but she felt like she was trapped in gelatin.

Oh Celestia, I don’t want what Fluttershy got!

The tingling in her guts increased until she felt like she was buzzing.

Then he pushed his knife a few inches into her belly, and her tail shot straight up in the air, her juices dripping down her thighs as the fiery pain lanced up to meet that strange sensation inside her.

A low, helpless groan came from her lips as he pulled downwards, drawing a bloody red line down her soft tummy as he unzipped her.

“Ahn! No! I- fuck!”

Applejack could feel her innards pushing at that long wound, only her own musculature holding it mostly shut. She swung her head down, and framed between her forelegs she could see a tiny loop of intestine poking out of her sliced-open belly.

It’s happening it’s happening it’s really happening

Anon planted his cock against her twitching pony butthole and roughly shoved inside.

Primed by his fingers, his cock slick with her juices, Applejack’s tight hole yielded to him easily.

As he thrust his dick into her, the red line on her belly opened up at the force. With a wave of pressure and pain and that bizarre tingling, Applejack’s insides started slopping out of her torn tummy.

“You’re… you’re fucking my guts out! You’re fucking me empty-y-y-y!” she wailed.

Every hard push into her sent more of her innards out of her, wet slurping sounds from her disembowelment mixing with the obscene sounds of this filthy creature from another world violating her asshole. It sang in her head like music as her body rocked under his anal assault.

“It hurts so much! Oh, Celestia! It hurts!”

She squirmed there, underneath him, suspended in agony as his hard-driving dick buttfucked her into a state of empty orgasmic fugue.

Empty. Empty like… Oh, fuck, like her belly was being emptied. She stared as more and more of her organs slid out of her, landing on the ground in a wet pile.

It hurt. It hurt in ways that she never could have imagined hurting.

And hanging there against the fence, in more pain than a pony should ever be expected to stand, Applejack’s asshole tightened hard around the throbbing human cock buttraping her.

“I’m… cumming...” she gurgled.

His hips were slapping against her ass as he drove himself balls deep into her burning hot insides. Slap-slap-slap, and every slap brought a new overpowering feeling as she spilled herself onto the grass.

He’s fucking me to death. I’m dead. I’m cumming myself to death. He’s fucking my guts out of me and I’m going to die on his dick.

Images spun in her head. Her farm, her work, her friends, her brother and sister. Her cousin Winesap shrieking as she tried to scoop her guts back into her ripped-open belly.

Applejack gave a breathy sigh, throwing her head back, eyes shut as she felt the last of her innards fall free.

She felt so… hollow.

Through her mental fog she felt him push as deep as he could into her, felt his alien jizz squirting into her, felt him pull out and spray a jet of white cum up her back.

Then her hind legs buckled and she keeled over on her side, panting weakly, her hooves moving unconsciously towards the pile of her insides.

She saw herself trying to pull them back towards her, and she gave a cross between a laugh and a sob at the pain of her hooves scraping against her organs.

He knelt near her head, hard and dripping, and she whimpered as he came again, splattering her straining face with his human sperm.

“Looked like that was pretty intense, Applejack,” he said. He hefted the knife and her eyes locked onto it.

“I’m never going to have another dream like this,” he said, and drove the blade hard into her throat.

Applejack’s eyes flared wide, her body bucking as the blood pumped out over his hands and her death agony filled her.

She had failed. Failed at making him understand he wasn’t dreaming. Failed at getting revenge. Failed even at not cumming herself brainless on his stupid human dick raping her to death.

All those feelings softened and turned white, fluttering away like flower petals, as Applejack shivered, and bled, and died.

The Canterlot throne room was filled with stunned silence except for heavy breathing. Then Rarity let out a sharp gasp, shifting her hips as she sat on the floor, and bent forward, shaking. Her purple mane hung over her blushing face as she recovered from her involuntary public orgasm.

“Princess Celestia, what are we going to do?” Twilight asked, looking lost. “He still thinks he’s dreaming! Are we going to let him...”

She swallowed, the words thick in her throat. “Are we going to let him just… rape and kill as many ponies as he wants?”

For a moment that thought simply hung suspended in each pony’s brain. Rarity’s hips were slowly rotating, rubbing her shapely bottom against the floor. Rainbow Dash just stood at attention, trembling and angry.

Celestia smiled softly at her protégé. “It is injustice to punish someone who has no evil intent,” she said.

“I’d say that qualifies as ‘evil intent!’” Rainbow Dash broke in. “He cut Applejack’s belly open and fucked her guts right out of her!”

“Darling, please!” Rarity said, standing up on wobbly legs. She held her tail demurely down, but the other ponies caught glimpses of the jeweled butt plug she’d been grinding on. “Let’s not be crass. He simply needs someone to explain the situation to him. Someone who can break it to him gently.”

She shot a cool glance at Rainbow Dash, who rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“And someone who can magic herself out of trouble!” Twilight Sparkle said, nodding.

“Fluttershy didn’t fly herself out of trouble,” Rainbow Dash said. “She didn’t have time. I should go! I can knock some sense into this bozo before he sees me coming!”

“No one will be knocking anything into anyone, Rainbow Dash,” Celestia admonished her. “He doesn’t know what he is doing. Rarity, I accept your generous offer. Please try to speak some reason to this human interloper.”

Rarity nodded, turned, and strolled out of the audience room, her princess plug glinting despite her efforts at modestly covering it with her tail. Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle followed. As she left the room, Twilight Sparkle turned back towards the princesses, and seemed about to say something, but she shivered and walked away.

Princess Celestia let a slow smile cross her face as she turned to her sister. “What sort of dreams has Miss Rarity been having the past few nights?”

Luna laughed. “I think you know, sister.”

Celestia licked her lips and lay back, letting her forehooves slide down between her creamy white thighs.

“I know,” she said. “But tell me anyway.”

Luna bent in and put her lips next to her sister’s ear. “She’s been dreaming of that human,” she breathed.

“Oh, yes...” Celestia hissed, her hips rolling as she ground against her ornamented hooves.

“She’s been dreaming of him breaking into her boutique. Of fighting him, and failing.”

“That slut would never even try to fight,” Celestia said, her voice rough with need.

Luna laughed again, then gave a little sound of surprise as Celestia’s horn flared and a lick of magic sizzled against her sopping wet nether regions.

“She dreams about losing… and about him bending her over her work table, and putting his fat human cock up against her pussy, and raping her full of his hot human cum.”

By now both sisters were on the edge, Celestia’s hooves rubbing fast against her needy pussy, her magic sliding into Luna’s tight cunt.

“What then?” she gasped.

“He wraps his… oh, fuck… wraps those strange finger things around her neck, and just squeezes!”

“Until?”

“Until she cums like crazy! Until she blacks out from it, until she fucking dies on that huge cock of his! Oh, sister!”

The two tall, elegant princesses shuddered in orgasm as they imagined what poor pretty Rarity had been fantasizing about… and what that brute of a human was going to do to her lovely equine body.