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((I'll be posting a story soon hope you enjoy :D ))
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Waiting eagerly!!


Looking forward to another magnificent story, Guilty!


Something with a good decapitation or skull-fuck would be my suggestion. Whatever it is you choose, looking forward to another story. This one was good.


love me some necro piss in the snow



Are you still working in mine?


Happy Birthday

(m/f, consensual, suicide, necrophilia, gore)

Edgar was having a terrible birthday. He kicked rocks with the toe of his boot as he trudged home but these small acts of violence did little to cheer him up. He was twenty nine years old that day and, as he reflected on his current situation, he was not pleased with where his life was.

The day actually hadn’t been that much worse than normal but since moving to the small farming town of Shadyvale, all of his days seemed terrible. Edgar was a cleric and served as a healer and spiritual guide to the people of Shadyvale. But it was always “Praise Pelor” this and “Blessings to Pelor” that whenever he mended a broken leg or cured a minor illness. The stupid bumpkins never acknowledged that fact that it was Edgar who actually worked all of this magic. No, there was never a “Praise Edgar” or even so much as a “Thank you Edgar” to be heard. He was a faithful servant of the sun god and he supposed that the dirt-farming simpletons thought that that meant that he wasn’t even a person in his own right.

The kicker to all of this was that Edgar wasn’t really a cleric of Pelor at all. His magic was granted to him by Hextor, the ruthless god of war and slaughter. And for a good number of years, he had been a model follower of this tyrannical god--he served his kingdom in times of war as a combat medic and, when that war was over, he lived as a mercenary adventurer doing any odd jobs that required his skills in tortuous pain-giving or mending of wounded flesh.

But he was forced to give all of that up when he had a falling out with the city’s local Adventurer’s Guild. He and a group of fellow “adventurers” had cleaned out a tomb just outside of town that had become infested with undead. Edgar had taken it for granted that any treasure in the possession of these monsters was part of the reward for their destruction but his partners had balked at this, claiming that it was “grave robbing”. What use does the ruined corpse of a long-dead noblewoman have for a wedding ring anyway? He had thought they had reached an agreement but one of his teammates had ratted him out to the guild. He barely escaped the city with his life but managed to stumble upon the small community of Shadyvale soon thereafter.

Which brought him to his current situation of patching up the boo boos suffered by the ignorant locals. At least the job cPost too long. Click here to view the full text.
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You may be thinking of Resurrection?



Sounds like the kind of spell our protagonist ought to learn to cast.


Wow! What a well written piece! Excellent work on the details. It's refreshing to see a story that pays attention to things like realistic breast size, blood streaks, cum spray, etc. This story also has really good pacing, flows well, and is nearly typo free.

The D&D setting caught me by surprise the moment I read "Praise Pelor". I'm sitting somewhere where I have to be very quiet so laughing out loud is problematic. :-D Now that I'm thinking about it, I'm surprised that more stories don't use this setting.

I'm looking forward to reading more.


Good story, with an imaginative premise. Don’t be afraid to say cock and cunt though. Reading penis and vagina repeatedly was not all that hot.





"I miss Yalsi." Sister Izka spoke of the Sister Repentia who slept just outside the window. "I hope I get to see her again."
It had been a rough week. The process of stripping and shaving Sister Yalsi was tiring and confusing. Speaking of her like she was dead, Izka knew her former Battle Sister could still hear her, but she reasoned it as being like a spirit or ghost.
Yaski, for her part, stayed quiet. Was she sleeping? Izka wanted her to hear her.

'Always the sweetest one, how'd she become such a badass?' Yalsi wondered, eyes wide open and glued to the stars above her. So few could ever be lucky enough to have a home under the open sky. This was her last night like this.

The rest of the planet's citizens lived within miles of skyscrapers, never seeing direct sunlight. Her week of penitence as human being was over. She had been whipped and made to crawl through boiling water. Her skin was bruised everywhere. Bandages covered her.


Zaz woke. 'Alley way in Commorragh' He thought to himself 'And I'm still alive. Man I'm just too awesome to die.'
He knew deep down it was only because he was sleeping in a smelly dumpster in a forsaken miles of trash, and he wasn't worth wading through all that. Several years ago some Hellions flew over and tossed grenades everywhere before being shredded by splinter-fire. Nothing major happened since that, except perhaps the odd rumor of a Khymera.


'Like dogs...' The military parade was illuminated by a bright yellow light. Alya had been told that was what their sun was like. She was only 17 and considered enlisting. She didn't need to as only men were required, and some looked down on letting The Emperor's precious daughters risk their lives, but it had an appeal.
The tanks, the guns, the camaraderie... the Sisters of Battle blessing you and fighting by your side!
...but not how they treated people, sometimes. They muse deserve it, she told herself, but did The Emperor really want people to be whipped to death for forgetting their morning prayers? Sure, demon hoards would kill everyone. Still, what did the Sisters Repentia ever do? But like everything else, they looked Post too long. Click here to view the full text.


So, this is only chapter one for now. It continues from here and I'll update when I can. This first chapter is about a woman who awakens finding herself on a dissection table.


Chapter 1

The wooden table was at an incline and the straps that held her in place tugged at her skin as gravity tried to pull her down. She squirmed against it and against the haze suffocating her thoughts. Where was she? Last thing she recalled she was in her bedroom doodling and listening to music.

Her senses settled, and she looked around. It was a dimly-lit room with antiquated medical instruments on aged wooden tables. The walls were a grey brick, the floor was stone smoothed by so many feet. Most importantly though, was the small crowd of people surrounding her…watching her. They were all in lab coats; men, women, and…monsters? Her mind couldn’t seem to formulate an image for what her eyes were seeing but her attention was taken by a man who stood very close to her left side.

He was lean, with pale skin and black hair that contrasted his unearthly blue eyes. They glowed like pools of electricity the color of blue topaz. He was talking, but at first, she couldn’t quite understand him. His voice was deep, but gentle, almost soothing.

She shook her head and a pressure in her ears released. His voice came in clearer.

“When preforming this particular work, you must keep in mind that the environment has a distinct effect on the psyche of the person. You know where you are and what you are doing, but they do not. As such, you can create through this illusion the effect of reality, pulling on the imagination of the human. I will demonstrate.” His left hand rose, and she saw a scalpel being held between deft fingers.

She jumped, her heart racing and squirmed against the restraints, leather squeaking.

Finally, she found her voice, “No! Where am I? No! What are you doing? AAAAAAAHHHHHH!”

The blade made one long incision starting from her sternum down to her navel. She tried to twist, and his right hand planted firmly on her solar plexus to keep her steady. His blade worked around the navel then resumed its path down to her pubic mound. He went over the incision a few times, each time working deeper into her muscle wall.

Her lungs inhaled deeply with shock, then hyperventilated in panic. Her chest rose and fell in rapid rhythm to her increasing heartbeat. As the Post too long. Click here to view the full text.
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I am trying to do one chapter from her perspective and one from his, back and forth. So, I chose this one from his perspective, but the next one will definitely be from hers. I can remember-visit this last theme from her perspective later if you think it's a good idea. I'm sure I can fit it into the plot. (Which there certainly is one :D) I'm glad you seem to like it so far!


Some hard vore! Enjoy! Please leave comments/suggestions/etc. Thank you! :)

Chapter 3

He watched her absent-mindedly through the bars as she sat in a dirty cell with chains around her wrists. She was wearing a dirty sack dress that went to her knees. He was dressed in a uniform of black and red, with what appeared to be a red cape draping behind. Its placement defied physics in that it didn’t seem to be cloth, but instead an undulating red trail emanating from the back of his uniform. Beside him was another man, clad in black and yellow with curly blonde hair and irises so dark brown they looked like voids staring into her. The blonde man had a bemused smile on his face.

“So, this is the lady you were telling me about. She is lovely.”

“That’s a stupid statement,” he said bluntly.

“Don’t be that way, you know I’m only admiring your handiwork. It’s legendary. She truly looks like a human.” Indeed, the two men, while human in features, were unnaturally perfect. “Any particular reason you chose this form for her?”

He tilted his head and said, “I found her on earth. This body looks most like her. That shade of brown in her hair and her honey colored eyes. I took one of the other bodies that looked most like her and tweaked it just a little, just to try to capture what she looks like in real life. It was a poor and hurried attempt.”

The blonde man tapped his shoulder with the back of his hand and offered him a wide smile, “Hey, that kind of interest means only one thing. Do you think she’s…you know?”

He took a deep breath and said, “There’s a chance, but with eight billion humans currently alive on the planet I’m not getting my hopes up.”

The man shook his head and said, “It’s such a shame you couldn’t incarnate. So close too! This last time was your closest chance in decades,” he shook his head more, “But alas, you plopped in the toilet as a wad of cells and blood. Your mother didn’t even quite know what happened. One flush later and there went your life with her.”

He hid his revulsion at the man’s description of the miscarriage. Instead he kept his gaze fixed on the woman.

“Oh, come on, don’t be so sour.”

He didn’t reply.

“Well, what do you think about tonight then? Eh? Let’s change the subject. Do you think she’ll entertain?”

He shook his head, “I never know. That’s part of the thrill, wouldn’t you say?” He Post too long. Click here to view the full text.


A wonderful story, well written!!


Fine stuff, I'm really impressed.

There's enough detail to immerse yourself without too much detail slowing the pace down, or making it feel bloated. The use of language is good and very descriptive, and you're using the right amount of words.

If I was going to change anything, I'd split the paragraphs a little smaller. It's just a little thing, but it'd make a difference. I would also limit the synopsis you give with each post - it's important to have one, but it's almost important to leave the audience wondering what they're in for.

Keep it up, you're a talent.


Voila! Some good old fashioned violence. Mostly I'm trying to fill in some story and offer a different experience each time. As always, comments and feedback are always appreciated!

Chapter 4

“You don’t know that for sure,” said Devon to the body maker. He looked enough like the body maker to give the impression they could be brothers. Though his hair was curly and his eyes a darker sapphire than his friend’s blue topaz. He wore all black, casual attire, but he was hunched, a tension behind his eyes. He leaned up against the wall, arms crossed and bangs in his face.

“She just took it!” The body maker was leaned over a long glass case which contained the body of a woman. It was the same body that had been fed to the dogs, only he had restored it and dressed in a dress of red and black. His hands gripped the edges of the box, knuckles white. He was in his uniform of black and red.

There were two rows of those glass coffins, each with a different body that now had an attachment to a particular soul. Each soul was potentially his lost love. The room was not large, but the ceiling was high with red drapes decorating the walls.

“Look, she could just…not remember anything. I mean, humans rarely recall anything prior to birth.” The body maker didn’t reply to his friend. He waited patiently, seeing his friend’s eyes darken to a shade similar to his own. The search was driving him mad. He prepared himself for the repercussions of what he was about to say, took a deep breath, and said, “You may never find her. You know that, right?”

Sure enough, his friend’s face snapped up to look at him, his eyes now a deep reflective ocean blue. His jaw worked, and he stormed up to him. Devon didn’t budge. The body maker roared and flung his fist in the direction of Devon, but Devon stayed motionless as the fist collided with the wall behind him. The fist kept punishing the wall beside his ear and he waited patiently for the tantrum to finish.

The body maker finally relaxed for a moment. He kept his face down, not wanting to look up at his friend. He heaved a sign, straightened and turned before his eyes met Devon’s. Then he left through a pair of gilded doors.

Devon’s arms relaxed, and he pushed himself off the wall with his shoulders. The girl in the coffin had been listening. He sensed it and he was sure his friend has sensed it too, but he didn’t want anything to do with any of them at the Post too long. Click here to view the full text.


Just another story I wrote, based on a guro picture. Let me know what you think!

disclaimer: This story is entirely fictional, along with all characters and events described in it. Any resemblance with real life is just a coincidence. Harming another human being is wrong and in no way I am trying to convey the opposite. Please, don't do anything like this!

“Next!” an unseen man shouted from inside the room.

Ahead of her, the line moved forward as a girl she couldn't see started pleading. She sounded terrified, but her pleas were of no help. Trembling in fear, she moved forward silently, following the girl in front of her.

The air in the hallway was cold, and her body was covered in goose bumps, but despite that she was sweating. Around her a few girls were crying hysterically while other looked blankly ahead.

She was tense as she tried to hear what was happening, and a moment later she finally heard it. A shrill scream escaped the room, only to be cut short by a wet crack.

“Next!” another men ordered a few seconds later, and the line moved forwards once more.

Anna was terrified, as each step took her closer to the room, but she was powerless to stop moving. A moment later she bumped into the girl ahead of her, not realizing that she hadn't moved.

Like her, she was also naked and her hands were cuffed behind her back. She could hear her sobbing softly as she looked down, her long brown hair hanging loosely in front of her. She looked much younger that her, though she couldn't see her face.


The line moved forward again, and the girl made a soft wail as she started peeing herself. Warm urine trickled between her legs, forming a small pool around her feet. Anna took a step backwards, bumping into the girl behind her as she tried to get away from it.

Sobbing harder now, the girl turned around. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying and she looked miserable. Looking into Anna’s eyes, she shook her head from side to side.

“Sorry… I… I couldn't…” she stammered weakly before she looked forward once again.


A moment later the line moved forward and Anna stepped around the puddle of piss. Trembling in fear, she closed her eyes, trying to calm herself as her heart beat furiously inside her chest. When she looked up again she saw the door, much closer to her than before.
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Hey, nice to see you're back.

Any chance you'll be reuploading your stories to asstr, or somewhere else?


That is a tricky question! On the one hand, the younger they are the more tender the meat will be, but on the other you want some meat on those roasted ribs, don't you!?

You are in luck, I already have! (add the dots back)

www asstr org/~Eficient/


>>11840 Cool! It's a shame you're so demotivated by the lack of responses. I guess this just isn't the right "genre" to be able to enjoy the "fame". Just know that I (as many others, I'm sure) really enjoyed your stories. Some were more up my alley than others, but you were (and are) definitely in the top ~10% for me.


Always nice to see more nc processing stories around here.


I don't think I am after fame, but a nice comment from time to time is always nice. However, as I said before, I am as much a lurker as others, so I can't really complain! And thanks!

Thanks man. There more on my site if you want to check them out!


“Hi Chief!”

“There you are. Fusion chamber's gone out again. I need you to go in there and restart it.”

“Oh. Okay! Didn't Capri restart it yesterday?”

“She did, and now it's gone out again.”

“Why's it gone out again?”

Chief Aimee-3364641 gave her junior counterpart an impatient look. Emily-51561497 was just a farmgirl, expendable. Maybe if she'd done three tours like Aimee and made reactor chief she'd be a little bit more important but… well, she hadn't.

“Figuring that out is MY job” she reminded the ditzy blonde junior engineer. “Which I can't DO because we don't have MAIN POWER because, I repeat, the fusion chamber's gone out so I need YOU, to go in THERE, and RESTART it! Or is that too hard for your dumb whore brain to figure out?”

“Okay, chief, okay! I was just curious!” Emily sniffed and unzipped her work uniform. She shrugged it off and let her hair down as she stood naked in front of the access hatch to the chamber. “Goodbye, I guess. Good luck fixing the problem.”

“Whatever...” Aimee muttered, not even bothering to acknowledge the farewell. She watched her instruments carefully as the hatch opened then closed and was locked behind her and the sound of Emily clambering deep into the heart of the megaKelvin reactor faded to a few sporadic tunk… tunk… clonk sounds.

Four silent seconds later there was a loud BANG and main power came back online. Aimee sighed and reached over to her terminal.

“Chief engineer's log,” she said, and recorded the date. “Another fusion core burnout. Emergency restart completed by junior engineer Emily-51561497. Fusion was sustained for less than twenty-four hours this time and we've got two days to go before we make it back to Vyalarn Station to diagnose and repair the problem and take on replacements. Cause of the failure remains unclear, but it's getting worse. I've only got two junior engineers left after which we'll have to start sacrificing people who actually matter. Will monitor and try to nurse it home. End log.”

She stood up and peered through the thick sapphire porthole into the heart of the reactor, where there was now a healthy white glare – a small star, really – hanging in the middle of the containment field. Of Emily, there was no sign.



“God fucking dammit...” Aimee sighed and tapped the ship intercom. “Junior engineer Sarah-10382479 to reactor core, ASAP.”

The captain callPost too long. Click here to view the full text.
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I'd want to see her used as a test subject for some glitchy bootleg cybernetic enhancement. Something like a cheap personality modification implant to switch from bimbo-mode to seductive to trashy skank or virginal innocence, for the pleasure of clients that want roleplay. It would probably really fuck with her mental state and mental health, and be glitchy as all hell, switching her mental state without her activating it.

Then again, it could be something with live fire weapons testing or live tests of new medical equipment, with fine print that you need to survive to get paid.


Well, other posters beat me to continuing Alice's misadventures, I'm gonna do another oneshot. Wanna get what happened to the stress reliever that Alice replaced, something nasty happening to that Ella lady who almost disposed of her, or something focusing on an officer?



I really liked the original story, the casualness, the original setting, and snuff method are welcome. Why do 99% of guro stories have to be about violent dismemberament/beheading etc? Non that I don't like it, but a bit of originality is nice.


My stake in this has been the scuzzy cybernetics and disposability


Billy-7588895 leaned back in his seat behind the management console in one of the station's many food courts, watching the various half naked members of the cloned workforce mill about and eat. He was of course a part of the clone population, and his appliance management job was quite cushy for what vat-meat could expect. The words Vat-Meat were tattooed over the plump ass of a whore he was watching, just above her prices. Every so often the neon yellow haired woman would be squeezed or fingered by passing diners, as she and others milled around between being brought to tables or done against the walls of the large dining area. Billy checked back on the management console, all food synthesizers were at nominal functionality and the organic mass supply was at medium to full. A quick change of view to a feed of the intake waste processor gave him a look at a large heap of food waste disappearing into a shredder, and after looking a moment longer, there was that one bitch, 5677893-whatever, still clinging to the side and scrubbing and scraping like she would be for the next several hours if she didn't slip. Back to the slut's big tattooed booty, Billy looked at the heavily "augmented" assets of the blonde, and quickly made to check his account. He figured he could spare enough to buy a break and a ride. He stepped up from the terminal, his taskmaster indicating he was being billed for time off, and strolled over to the whore.

Suzy-2673112 was being smashed between two burly, heavily modified men, the sort grown specifically to be ship crewmen. The one in her rear had her by the hips, and was cumming again, holding her soft ass close as he pumped into her rectum. The one in her cunt was leveraging on her shoulders, plowing in and out at changing angles as he rearranged her insides. Her fellow tarts had shoved her at the sailors when they approached, and now she was gonna be broken as they waited in line to use the food synthesizer. She was pumping herself full of aphrodisiacs and painkillers through her own cybernetic additions, and had turned up the feeling from her erogenous centers, but even then it was only the hope of a big payout that was holding her together as she felt as though her body was being pummeled apart. Then she felt a pull on her hair, and her upper body was dragged out from between the massive crewmen. She immediately had another cock in her face, and between programming and habit she could barely help moaning andPost too long. Click here to view the full text.


Melanie figured that the bag had started leaking inside her belly as the plane was winging its way over Southern California. She even knew when the bag had split. Marco had assured her that each packet of heroin had been compressed within double wrapped condoms and had very little air inside. But as the plane gained altitude after take-off and the cabin pressure decreased, she could feel the packets expanding in her stomach and lower bowel, making her already pregnant looking abdomen swell further. She'd found the sensation quite erotic and had reclined her seat and stroked her belly like any four month pregnant woman would.

Melanie started to feel the effects of the leaking heroin by the time they were over Frisco. It began as a sweet warmth that spread through her core and loins then her thighs and bottom. At first she didn't realize that it was the heroin, thinking that she was just getting an unusually strong case of the hornies from the expanded packets inside her.

Mel had laid back in her seat and squeezed her thighs together as the good feelings began, but soon they grew too strong to be natural she'd felt a cold rush of fear rush through her as she realized that at least one of the bags inside her gut had burst. 'Stay calm', she had told herself as her fear and anxiety started to build. She thought it out and came to the conclusion that the bag couldn't have burst - each packet was thicker than a man's thumb and almost as long. That much pure heroin would have killed her within minutes. The end of one of the double wrapped condoms must have come undone and the inner one must be leaking is all. All she had to do is remain calm until she got to Vancouver and the retrieval could begin. She'd make herself throw up to get rid of anything left inside her.

Melanie had 130 packets of heroin inside her body. Marco had managed to press 80 inside her bowels, one by one, then she had began the arduous task of swallowing the remaining 50 using small shots of olive oil to make them slide down. The result was a rounder midsection and a distinct bulge in her belly that she had passed off as a four month pregnancy. That got her out of the x-ray body scan at the airport and had elicited smiles from most of the security and airline staff she'd encountered.

By the time the plane was winging over Seattle, Melanie felt quite sick despite the slow orgasmic feelings radiating from her abdomen. She'd got her unsteady legs under her and made her Post too long. Click here to view the full text.
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This was simpley amazing, the details, the reasons, the feelings. I'm still shivering. You have amazing writing skills! Are there more???


A+ times a million, amigo. There are never enough overdose stories, and this one was fantastic.




Very well written! I liked this story very much!


My mommy had me when she was younger than I was when I killed her.

She hit me a lot. She never really slapped me, but she threw me on the wall and grabbed my arm and slammed me into the wall again and again, and always put me down, blaming me for being a bastard who's father wasn't good to her.
...And other friends of hers hit me a lot. I don't know how she knew them, but they did jobs for her and she fucked them a lot. I got really sick of it.

She also fondled me and my older sister a lot. I overheard my sister and her slightly older friend discussing how that happened to both of them but usually the daddy or uncle does it. We didn't have such a dad so it fell to my mother to abuse us.

"We should kill her." Era had almost murdered her own father, from what my sister Sandy said to a different friend. Sandy was shaking her head but Era continued. "Run her over. I'm real."

"No! I know you are. We're not doing that."

"Worked for me."

"You didn't-"

"No but I hurt him and now he doesn't hit me or anything." They just stared at each other, and I recalled seeing him bitch at her recently. But he kept his distance.

"Well he's still an asshole."

"Yeah but he's a drunk and he'll die a drunk and he's miserable. That makes me happy, so fair is fair. You want to cut your losses? Kill your mom."


"Yes." I stepped into my sister's room.
"Since when do you care?"
"OK but spying on me?"
"Era is right, we need to stop this."
"...-" Sandy was about to speak but "JUST HURT HER!" Era interrupted her.
It was quiet.

"...Okay, how?" My sister spoke after a pause. She looked at Era, who shrugged and said "Beat her."
"I can't take her! She's my mother!" Sandy's eyes were wider in shock than when I revealed myself.
"We have hammers and clubs."
"We'll just warm her and shout her down and beat her unrelentingly. Show no mercy and we will win."

We waited for her. It seemed like hours, and maybe it was. Sandy or Era possibly kept track of time, I don't know. But our hearts all stopped when the door unlocked. There she was, my 27 y.o. mother, lurching in and then looking up at us, her eyes wide and glittering. It was only a second, if that, but it lasted forever. Her 12 y.o. son, her 15 y.o. daughter, and her daughter's 17 Post too long. Click here to view the full text.
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Well in this scenario she cannot stay alive :)

While I would prefer some more loving version when she is not that super bad and her kids do not hate her. she just gets punished for purpose of revenge to teach her a lesson without hatred.


You are a retard


Maybe. But it's ok either way because I'm beeeautiful!


Hey, I like your story m8! Ofc they should kill her, the boy must make her cum in a humiliating way and then the girls savagely beat her in a jealous rage.Btw this reminds me of an old horror movie bout some kids born on a bad moon who did something similar to a babysitter.Keep up the good work m8!


Aww. Ty. I like you.


The Discreet Brothel: a report on recent occurrences at the Velvet Glove Social Club, based on interrogations and surveillance camera files.

The evening of October 31 proved to be far more remarkable at the Velvet Glove Social Club than anyone had expected, even considering it was Halloween and Madame Solange had arranged some special entertainments for the delectation of a clientele whose sophistication should have prevented it from taking any notice of a holiday intended for small children. Nothing of the exterior suggested anything of the decadent activities to be enjoyed within. The club presented an austere, though somewhat foreboding front to the view of non-initiates who drove or walked past. Located in a brownstone on a nondescript side street, its windows were muffled by heavy, deep purple draperies. A small, simple brass plate on the door announced the club’s unusual name, and a plain black button to the right of the door enabled a visitor to ring for admittance. A cone-shaped fixture emitted just enough sour yellow light to illuminate the top step in front of the door, leaving the rest of the building’s front in dim obscurity. No light penetrated from around window draperies. Beginning at eleven, anyone standing across the street would have viewed a slow trickle of well-dressed men, and a few richly outfitted women, filtering along the street front alone or in groups of two or three, or disgorged from expensive but nondescript chauffeured automobiles, who climbed the steps, rang for admittance, and disappeared into a briefly illuminated gap in the doorway.

Once inside, they found themselves in a dazzlingly rich entry hall, enveloped in draperies and tapestries of deep burgundy, gold, navy blue, sparkling with brilliantly candle-lit crystal chandeliers, leading up a staircase carpeted in deep blood-red plush along a curving mahogany banister. The wall upward was lined with obscurely rendered paintings portraying intricately detailed erotic entanglements of a disturbing quality, hinting at bodily distortions and couplings not found in any normal dimension. An array of accommodating, compliant hostesses, young women draped in the scantiest of costumes—all protuberant bosoms, bottoms, nipples, and clitorises, curving thighs, black velvet on pale alabaster skin, ivory baubles strung over lush expanses of ebony skin, outrageously contrived hairstyles, musical voices edged with a note of hysteria—accompanied the guests up the staiPost too long. Click here to view the full text.


This was done as part of a collaboration/trade with another Author who goes by Ms. Masterson on Hentaifoundry (hxxp://www.hentai-foundry.com/user/MsMasterson/profile). This was my end, and in return I got a really neat schoolgirl story that I helped her write and edit. I'll probably post it here at some point...

Anyway! enough explanation, here's' the story:

Roasted Asari Tits

Tags: F/self, Xenophilia, Debreasting, cooking, microwave, hints of cannibalism and incest, Mass Effect Setting

Ryelle looked at the microwave oven, checking to make sure that she'd managed to install the new timers correctly. The oven was small, not really large enough to prepare a meal for a family. It was awkward too, the entire front was made of a clear glass, specially treated to contain the microwave radiation. The main opening was the front of the machine, which swung upwards to provide access to its contents, but there were also a pair of openings in the back of the oven, two perfectly circular holes that irised open and closed with inflatable rubber gaskets in the rims.

Ryelle had gotten the device at an estate sale and once she found out what it was, she'd bought it, mostly on a lark.

A breast cooking oven.

They were rare human-made novelties from a few colony worlds where cannibalism was legal. Ryelle had heard they sometimes served cooked breasts to wealthy tourists, very rarely indulging themselves. Something in the story had sparked a flame in her azure when she heard it though, and upon seeing the partially busted microwave oven for the first time, Rylle couldn't manage to keep herself from buying it.

Ryelle had taken to playing with herself while she looked at it, imagining how it might feel to actually use it. She'd started to repair it the second week after she bought it, scrubbing the actuators on the automated carving arms clean, wiping down the surfaces, making sure the openings irised open and closed properly and the rubber gaskets inflated, both when empty, and with her own blue g-cup Asari  tits in the way when she used the openings to see if her ample assets would fit. They did, though with the breasts of an Asari matron much larger on average than an equivalent human's she'd found that her aroused nipples were in constant contact with the specialized glass in front, tracing tiny lines every time she shifted.

It had taken a couple of months, but thePost too long. Click here to view the full text.


I love these Asari stories. If only some artist would pick them up for illustration...


Ooh, lot of great foreplay in this one! Instant favorite.


Nice story !
I hope there will be another part to enjoy ! :-)


It'd be interesting if she took her moms cunt while she slept. Great read, I love it

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