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 No.9773[Reply]

The Boy Who Lied Thrice

1 - The First Lie

	
"Miss Myers, Jacob is masturbating!" Alice proclaimed.

	
The slim girl was standing at her desk, her hand up and waving back and forth for attention. Her face was scrunched up in disgust as she glared at the student sitting directly to her right.

	
Said student started violently at the sound of his classmate's voice, looking up and around guiltily. His hands, which had been hidden behind his desk, jerked up and away from his crotch.

	
Miss Myers, her lesson interrupted, sighed and turned from her whiteboard to look back at Alice and Jacob.

	
"Thank you, Alice. You may sit down." she said, nodding to the girl. "Jacob, come up to my desk, please."

	
Jacob returned Alice's glare briefly, before turning his attention back to his crotch, apparently trying to quickly button his fly back up. Miss Myers didn't give him the chance.

	
"Now, Jacob." she told the boy.

	
Jacob's hands froze. He then got up, shame faced and blushing, and walked to the front of the classroom. His jeans and underwear, already riding lower than they should have been and completely unbuttoned, slid further down his legs with each step he took, despite his best efforts to prevent it.

	
By the time he stood in front of his teacher, his pants were pooled around his ankles and his face was as red as a fire hydrant. His penis poked out stiffly from his groin, pointing directly up at his teacher's face. He wouldn't meet her eye.

	
"Jacob, were you masturbating in class?" Miss Myers asked, disappointment coloring her voice.

	
The boy hesitated for a moment, his hands clasped on the hem of his shirts, twisting at it in worry.

	
"N-no, Miss Myers." He finally stammered. "I just had an.. an itch."

	
"An itch." Miss Myers repeated, flatly.

	
"Yes, an itch. And I was just scratching it, that's all." Jacob said, finally looking up at his teacher, despite his obvious embarrassment.

	
"And to scratch this itch, you needed to completely unbutton your trousers and pull down your underwear?" Miss Myers asked, her voice sardonic. "Really, Jacob?"

	
"Yes." Jacob said, firmly.

	
"Miss Myers!" Alice said, wavingPost too long. Click here to view the full text.
15 posts omitted. Click reply to view.

 No.10868

>>10159

S-sorry Miss Myers. I jerked off a lot but couldn't help it! And sorry I'm months late!

**

Some Extra independent chapter

**

Miss Myers was quite intrigued and excited to meet the new assistant teacher. Her profile simply read as Kim Cutting.

She was a curly, red-headed woman who looked no older than 24, with bright white skin and freckles that put her out of place as an authoritative figure. But Miss Myers read that she reformed many, many boys (and girls) using "corporeal adjustment"

Miss Myers just wondered how she'd handle the biology lesson coming up this Monday. She decided to pay her a visit.

What she found was quite interesting. It could have counted as child abuse in the past, but now in this school, it was different.

Her room was decorated spartan, save for a few visitors...and furniture.

Ms Cutting was seated on a comfy office chair, writing her first notes and script for her first lesson. The office supplies however, were mostly children.

Boys and girls, completely naked, were often furniture, or tools using their tenderest parts due to their punishment. And they were shockingly quiet.

One of the quite rowdy students, Robert whom Miss Myers had never managed to discipline, a boy of 10, was whimpering, his huge penis' urethra housing several pencils and pens, as did three other kids, their erect penises housing several writing implements, young boy shafts reddish from straining expansion. Each had an expression of pain and had sweat on their faces which Ms. Cutting occasionally wiped with a kerchief before resuming writing.

Basically she used every naughty kid who had sexually expressed anything as a test.

Her profile told as much of implementing an incredible reform. If the student lost function of his penis, he was gelded, and the useless penises and balls recycled...alongside the student's entire body! Meat for the kitchen, bones for glue, leather, blood for ink, the student was recycled in a humane, painless and environmentally friendly manner.

Needless to stay, her old school reported that discipline was incredible.

"Good day, Miss Myers, how can I help you?"

She stood up and amiably shook Miss Myers' hand with a bright smile and invited her to sit. "Please."

Post too long. Click here to view the full text.

 No.10967

>> Her room was decorated spartan, save for a few visitors...and furniture.

Oh, stuffed heads on the walls will never spoil the simple spartan spirit. As well as necklace with little teenager balls and earrings with the preteen cocks.

 No.11014

>>10967

Have patience. After a Creator's Update gone wrong, I'll continue writing this. I already got some ideas...like a "dissection lesson"

 No.11015

>>11014
Sorry for my English, it is my fourth language.

"Dissection lesson" is grate. What about a lesson were a students learn about boy gentiles developing from a new born to an adolescence. Mother of the class students will donate their boys for this lesson while the teacher (woman of cause) slowly sliced their scrotums, penises and testicles. Starting with a new born and then a toddler, preschool,preteen and then one or two boy from the class.

Of cause it will cause a lot of laugh to see muffled boys screaming into their gags when their boyhoods are taking from them.

 No.11153

>>11015

Miss cutting will anesthetize as much as school budget will allow. She isn't a complete monster.



 No.11136[Reply]

Melony awoke, yet she had immediately regretted it, her head throbbed with a deep ache, clutching her temples with a pained groan, the night was a blur, coming together in fragments. She peered about her bed, pulling back her sheets to find it was empty, if she was waking up alone, the night did not end well, a waste of renting a large bed for the night.

Something did not feel right, it was the suspicion she had forgotten important, her mind trying to piece the fragments of last night together. There as a sudden need to check her things, pushing herself up, sitting amidst a tangle of downy covers, tight ringlets of chestnut brown hair spilling over bust.

She reached for the bedside, snatching up a leather pouch with a slap of her hand against the stiff dark oak of the nightstand. The lack of any weight in her hand made guts twist in worry, reaching inside it, only to have that sensation tighten into a cold knot of dread. She was broke, not a coin to rub between her fingers, yet she kept reaching inside the pouch in desperation, cursing under her breath in disbelief.

With a growl of contempt, she whipped the empty coin purse against the wall, the foggy memories settling in of where her money had gone. Vaguely recalling she had bet it all on a hand of poker, even her fucking horse left her possession that night.

She began to dress herself pushing her arms through a satin undershirt fastening up the front buttons, closing the frills of her garment over her chest. She wrapped her midsection in a black leather corset, pulling the strings taut, feeling the leather compressing around her body.

No money meant she would have no way to pay for this luxurious room, she could suck the innkeeper’s cock until it was smoother than polished marble, and she would barely even settle her drinking tab at best.

She wrapped her open skirt around her waist, the loose pleats of the white diaphanous fabric hanging at the midpoint of her thigh. As she dressed herself, she was thinking of the best way to get out of this mess, sitting back on the bed, pulling her silken black thong up her legs, and hitching it under her skirt.

As she pulled tall riders boots over her calves until they were over her knees hugging her low under the thigh. She was peering out her window, gauging just how far a drop it was, sighing that it had to be like this. She tugged the laces that ran up the side of her expensive boots, tyPost too long. Click here to view the full text.

 No.11141

Well, that was fucking hot. I love monsters and huge cocks.

 No.11145

Eyy, Tsade!

Recognize ya from the /efg/ thread!

 No.11152

>>11145
Hiya! Gurochan would best be called my second home since a bulk of my commissions come from here and they don't mind my more extreme tastes.



 No.11056[Reply]

Once upon a gurochan there was a multi part story about an island where rich people would buy and sell people to snuff. It was horrifically excellent. Until one dark day, a server shut down and it vanished without a trace. However, legends tell of the power of crowd sourcing and that it might one day bring back this lost tale (and possibly others) for all to revile and enjoy.
8 posts omitted. Click reply to view.

 No.11086

I admit it, I enjoy being fucked up the ass.

As you will probably have already gathered, I - Alastair Simon Lawes - am not a man with many hangups about enjoying the things I find pleasure in. I'm a bisexual, necrophiliac murderer and cannibal, though interestingly I'm not a rapist. I don't find any joy in taking by force what so many people over the years have been willing to give me freely. Their intimacy, their virginities, even their lives and flesh. I'll gladly receive when given, but never take by force.

I'm also not aroused by urine or faecal matter. Some of the clients who come to my club are, and that's their prerogative, but for me there's nothing sexy about them at all. Give me saliva, semen, sweat and blood any day.

Anyway, where was I...? Oh yes. On a boat with a cock in my ass and another in my mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Janet – still gorgeous in her mid fifties – with a glass of wine in hand and a couple of fingers in her pussy, watching me suck and be fucked by two equally gorgeous (though much younger) men. She was wearing what was technically a long black evening dress, but honestly it was more like an ankle-length cloak with a broad strip of ruffled fabric across her midriff. It left her small, still-firm breasts and hairless pussy fully exposed, and her nipples were as hard as the diamond rings that pierced them.

The men I was fucking were Twin brothers, pierced and tattooed with that black over-the-eye emo haircut. The only way to tell them apart was that one's hair falls to the left, the other to the right.

There was certainly nothing different about their generously sized penises, as my very VERY close inspection was proving.

Lest you think this tale is going to purely involve my homosexual side, I'd just like to point out that my own cock was busily filling out my favourite employee, Bridget. Tall, lean and muscular, with straight brunette hair to the points of her shoulder blades and unsettling blue eyes. Not actually that beautiful, but with a sultry confidence and knowledge of her own sexual tastes that more than compensated.

All the girls I employ are aroused by the prospect of their own deaths and those of others. Deep in in their libidos is a simple equation: “death = sex”. Doesn't matter who, what or how, if somebody is dying, they get wet. They aren't alone in that impulse either – I make millionsPost too long. Click here to view the full text.

 No.11087

______________________

Worth Waiting For: Chapter 3



I woke to the sound of automatic weapons fire.

Nothing to worry about, of course. You can't live on your own private island in international waters without needing some protection, and the protection in this case comes in the form of a mercenary team who live and work on the island, protecting it from pirates and making sure that whenever somebody is snuffed on the island, they are consenting and have received permission from me.

Recruiting them is a tricky balance. The natural choice of person to act as private security for an island full of necrophiliacs and cannibals would be, well, necrophiliacs and cannibals. On the other hand, you really don't want to have emotionally unstable murderers wandering around with automatic weaponry. So, the trick is to find veteran mercs who are into snuff but not unstable, or ones who are so utterly jaded that they genuinely don't give a fuck so long as the pay's good. And the pay is VERY good.

The live fire training exercises and target practice that keeps them sharp can be a pain in the ass sometimes. The island isn't very big, so the sound of assault rifles will wake you up pretty much wherever you are, which is inconvenient if you have a massive hangover. That's why all the apartments are soundproofed.

But of course, I wasn't in my apartment.

The fire pit was still glowing faintly, for which I was grateful. It gets warm quickly on a tropical island, but the mercs start their drills early on training days, so it was still chilly, with a light mist coming off the lagoon and I didn't feel much like walking back to my apartment just yet, so the heat from the banked embers was very welcome.

If not for the loud hammering of rapid-fire from the barracks, I'd have enjoyed waking up stark naked on the beach by a fire. I'd held a private party out here last night. Just me and a lovely Russian girl called Anastasia. She'd long since gone cold of course, but I pulled a few tender strips of meat off her carcass and chewed them thoughtfully as I watched the sun rise over the ocean.

I became aware of footsteps behind me and turned. The man who was approaching didn't bat an eyelid. He'd seen me naked far more than he'd seen me clothed, and the cooked carcass of a human being was an extremely common sight on the island.

“Good morning, Harry.” I greeted him with aPost too long. Click here to view the full text.

 No.11088

Name: Lorekeeper @ 2014-01-01 07:34 ID: f33daf

In appreciation of the influx of consensual guro stories of late, I'll repost some more of this old classic by IMadeAWrite:



The Christmas event at Club Moros doesn't actually take place on Christmas day. People want to spend the day itself with their families after all, and even though most of us are thoroughly non-religious, there's still something about snuffing people on the day itself that feels... uncomfortable. So, the actual event is held two weeks before, on the tenth. And it is easily the most fun night of our year.

There is of course the attraction that it's one of the fifteen days per year on which we snuff one of the Moros girls, but there's also a tradition of gift-giving which is uniquely.... us.

The private yachts and planes have been arriving for days, each bearing a party of Moros club members and a number of gifts.

Many of those gifts will be for me. Others will be for other club members, or for the Moros girls. One or two will be gifts to the club as a whole, and all the gifts are the same: They are all living human beings, and by sunrise on the morning of December 11th, they will all be dead.

It is, in short, the single largest annual mass suicide/homicide in the world. Last year, eight lives came to a violent end, four of whom were club members who presented themselves to me as presents. It's the one night of the year when self-snuff is allowed, too, and last year two of our patrons wound up taking their own lives.

This year, the party was already off to a good start. I had been pleased to receive two snuff-slave gifts: a beautiful young Italian man from Janet, and a Brazilian call-girl who'd met with her former owner via the Moros network.

Bridget and Madison had both also received gifts, admirers who were club members thanks to the patronage of a wealthier member and who had gladly given themselves to their favourite M-girls. I was also aware that their patron had signed Janet's half year snuff-slave contract and sealed the deal with a gift of his own wife. So, we were up to six just within the first hour, though none of them were actually dead yet.

People were apparently holding a competition to see who could arrive the most fashionably late, and we didn't really want to begin the snuffing until most of the attendees had arrived.

Post too long. Click here to view the full text.

 No.11089

Name: Lorekeeper @ 2014-01-01 07:38 ID: f33daf

True to my word, June had to wait a long time before her end came.

The rest of December was spent enjoying her thoroughly. She still expected every day to be her last and was unreservedly sexual throughout. She shunned clothing and took every opportunity to fuck me or anyone else I ordered her to. Several times, I had her while we watched the ultra-slow motion footage of her family's death by exploding dildo.

Then the First of January came round, and it was time for the first M-girl snuff of the year. She spent the whole day quivering like a violin string, expecting to be chosen for a double-snuff that night.

The “lucky” girl that night was Eva, who was auctioned for ninety-three million to one of my favourite clients, a leading world expert in anaesthesia and pharmacology who regularly made use of willing M-net victims and Moros snuff events in unofficial (and unpublishable) clinical trials. With a shot of his latest creation to the back of her neck, Eva apparently felt no pain at all as the client and Bridget took her apart well past the point where shock and trauma would ordinarily have killed her. When she finally expired, she was staring in amazement at her own heart as it stopped beating.

January was a slightly calmer affair as June got used to the idea that I was serious about waiting for an opportunity to make her death genuinely special. Interestingly, we became more intimate. Our sex stopped being quite so frequent, vigorous and carnal and became more... intimate. I began to think of it as lovemaking rather than fucking. We'd spent the previous month trying pretty much everything, and I still fondly recall a fivesome with June, Bridget, Annie and a male client. Now, it was an exploration of just how good it could be to devote yourself to one person for a time.

On February the first, Mercedes “won” the lottery. She sold for a hundred and seventeen million and her purchaser decided to hang her from The Frame and bisect her lengthways with a chainsaw. I always enjoy it when somebody does that, because the result is inevitably spectacular, sending a fountain of blood and torn meat all over the club. Watching it got me so hard that my dick felt abnormally heavy, almost painful – as if I might snap it off if I exerted myself too hard. This didn't stop me from fucking June's tight anus for the first time while a young Post too long. Click here to view the full text.

 No.11120

Prettydead, you are amazing.



 No.10865[Reply]

Since I'm still having trouble accessing ASSTR, I will post my stories here.

Feedback is welcome; criticism is welcome so long as it's constructive.




My first story is in response to this prompt in Killer and Victim: (https://www.gurochan.cx/rp/res/1864.html#q2637)

Party Killer – Midnight Stabbings



Snuff, pain, rape, ws



Friday night, and I once again went to a party uninvited; just noticed that there was a party going on as I drove around town, parked at a supermarket a few blocks over, and walked on in. Despite the fact that I was unfamiliar with the people there, and they were certainly unfamiliar with me, my presence went unnoticed. Pretty much everyone was intoxicated, too concerned with getting laid, or both. I busied myself with walking around and consuming whatever food and beverages didn’t contain alcohol or drugs; getting intoxicated myself just wouldn’t suit me at that time. Being a serial killer, my purpose was to find someone and make their night the last one they will ever experience.

After an hour of wandering aimlessly and glancing at scantily clad women to determine if they were the ones for the night, I found my prey. Two young ladies in their early twenties who just arrived caught my attention when one told the other that she would help her find a guy to take her virginity. In my years of raping and killing young women at parties, finding a virgin was rare; well, attractive virgins, are at parties are rare.

From observing their conversation I learned that the virgin, a somewhat curvy girl with long black hair and huge breasts, was called Nina. She was just wearing a green dress that displayed her monumental cleavage, and black high heels. Despite Nina’s appearance, I could also tell from the fact that she rarely spoke in the conversation, and that she seemed nervous when she did talk, that this is not what she enjoyed doing. She was probably used to staying in her room on a computer; probably playing video games or watching anime, if I had to guess. The innocence I could perceive made her made her a much more interesting target to me than the girls who were drunk and drugged up.

Her friend was a completely different person all together. Called Ariana, she was a petite black girl with shoulder-length neon hair. While not as massPost too long. Click here to view the full text.

 No.10962

Here's a rewrite/completion of one started in Killers and Victims.

Early Morning Killing Spree



Snuff, Pedo, Gore, Piss, Necro



Ralph Holland sat in his car holding a .500 S&W Magnum in his hand, constantly fidgeting with it and turning it over in his hand. This is how Ralph spent the last hour; playing with the gun, even pointing it at his own head a few times, and thinking about one thing: Kaori Harada, and her new lover.

Kaori had been Ralph’s friend since she was only seven, shortly after her family immigrated from Japan. Over the years, as Kaori grew from a little girl into a woman, Ralph began to have feelings for her, and on more than one occasion Ralph found himself jerking off to romantic or lustful fantasies about her. It wasn’t hard to fall in love with her; Kaori was overtly kind, funny, and easy going. On top of that, she was attractive, with an average height and fit body, shoulder-length hair that was usually dyed red, and sizable breasts that she always seemed to show off with loose-fitting tops. Considering his feelings and their long-lasting friendship, Ralph was certain that they were destined to be together, whenever he got up the courage to ask her out.

His plans to make Kaori came crashing down the day before, however. She called Ralph and three other friends to lunch with her and her roommate, Nora Hampton, saying she had something big to tell them. She told everyone that she was a lesbian, and that she fell in love with a woman by the name of Karla Caldwell. Ralph and everyone else congratulated Kaori and assured her that she had their approval, and Ralph wasn’t even upset at first. However, after he got home and thought about the fact that it destroyed any chance he might have with being her boyfriend, and seething hatred welled up to consume his every thought.
He spent most of the night, unable to sleep, dreaming up ways to end Kaori’s relationship with Karla. Eventually the elaborate plans to get them to break up became plans to commit murder. At around four o'clock Ralph, deciding to act on his anger, climbed out of bed, put on a t-shirt and blue jeans, stole a gun from his dad’s gun cabinet, and drove off.

He parked out in front of Kaori’s apartment, since he’d need to get Karla's address from her first. At around five fifteen, Ralph got out of the car. He placed the gun in his right pants pocket, although he wasn’t expecting things to gPost too long. Click here to view the full text.

 No.11012

Mother and Daughter Execution



Snuff, teen, masturbation, gore, explosive, ws, scat



There was simply no place in the world for Francine Myers, and according to the law she should never have been born in the first place.

Following the war with China, the parts of North America not destroyed by nuclear fire were overrun with bands of raiders or fell under the control of despots. One such despot, going as Cain the First, created his own kingdom in what was once the Northwest United States and British Columbia. To preserve resources, Cain decreed that every couple must get royal approval to reproduce. The punishment for having an unauthorized child was harsh: death. Not only that, but the unauthorized child would be executed first while the parents were forced to watch.

Fourteen years ago, Francine’s parents gave birth to her without royal approval. With the help of a friend with ties to the system, they managed to modify the database to make Francine’s birth seem legit. Then, six months ago, that man was arrested for an unrelated scam. In exchange for his own freedom, he told the authorities about several families he faked records for, including the Myers Family. When the police came to arrest them her dad gave his life so that she and her mother could escape, but his sacrifice was in vain. When they tried climbing out of the bedroom window into the backyard an officer spotted them and they were arrested.

Francine and her mother were placed in separate cells for the duration of their trials, which were decided in a week without them even making an appearance in court. Francine was sentenced to death, as was her mom, and it would be carried out the following week.

On her special day, Francine laid on the cold stone bed watching the cell door with a grim expression. She had to use her knee-length blonde hair as a pillow, as they didn’t provide her with one.

She only wore a thin white bra and matching thin white panties. Although she was given a light-brown shirt and a pair of pants, she chose not to wear them. Francine, since she was old enough to change her own clothes, only wore them when she had to, as she was most comfortable in nothing but her skin. She was also quite proud of her body, and starting at the age of nine she always wore the most revealing outfits she could get away with. Even with the end of her life being imminent, she found that her old habits wePost too long. Click here to view the full text.

 No.11113

An Eventful Afternoon



Snuff, torture, FF+, Blackmail, Necro, WS



Mary pulled her car into a neighborhood park to pay a visit to a resident several streets over. Most would consider this unusual, but Mary Bruin's choice of career brought plenty of unusual behaviors; she was a hired assassin, and this was her latest job. However, this job differed from the requests. Along with the two silenced 9mm pistols hidden beneath her skirt like normal, she also carried a small duffle bag with a high quality camera and a mask capable of disguising her voice. Filming during a hit was not particularly her style, but her client agreed to pay ten times more than any previous job to date.
The target was Alexis Ferguson: she was the eighteen-year-old daughter of an FBI agent who single-handedly brought down a sex trafficking operation that her client was in charge of. As payback, Mary’s client not only wanted his precious baby girl murdered, but also forced to perform a sexually explicit act on camera first before being snuffed out. After the job was done, she was to upload the video to Alexis's social media accounts and send her client a copy of the video. Essentially, Mary was hired to make a pornographic snuff video.
Mary arrived at the girl’s home fifteen minutes after getting out of her car. Her clients other contacts managed to obtain a key while researching the family, which was given to Mary. Using that, she unlocked the front door of the house; after stepping in, she locked the door behind herself to keep from arousing suspicion. As the reports said, nobody was home yet: Alexis and her younger brother would be at school for at least another hour, their dad at work until later that night, and their mother was at a family funeral in another state. Mary ran up the stairs and eventually found Alexis’s room where she waited in the corner behind the door.
The hour passed, and Mary heard movement downstairs. She donned the mask and stood up before turning the camera on. The first person to come upstairs was her little brother, whose footsteps rushed past the room Mary was hiding in and into the next bedroom. A few minutes later explosions and gunshots boomed through the house after the kid turned on his game system. Another five minutes and Mary heard footsteps coming up the stairs again, and this time she could tell that they belonged to more than one person.
The door swung open and two girls entered the room. Post too long. Click here to view the full text.



 No.11102[Reply]

Does anyone have the story nurse's last day saved? I know a lot of people didn't like it that much, but I found it very hot and have been kicking myself for not grabbing it


 No.9652[Reply]

It's been a LONG time since I posted something. Just found this old story...

Any girls interested in recording this for me, email me at killitwithfire85@yahoo.com

Danielle awoke dazed and groggy, her eyes slightly opened as she adjusted to the dim lighting in the dungeon. "Where... Where am I?" She said quietly to herself as she soon realized that she wasn't in the safety of her bedroom. It was when she tried to move her hands to rub her eyes that she realized the immediate danger she was in.

Panic quickly consumed the young 18 yearold girl as she came to the conclusion that her hands had been handcuffed behind her back, and that it wasn't a waking dream. She was indeed in some sort of dungeon and had no memory of how she had arrived there.

Danielle awkwardly rose to her feet and surveyed the room with a new found intensity. "WHERE AM I!" She screamed, her voice reaching a new pitch. It was at this time she realized that whoever had put her in this situation had not only handcuffed her hands behind her back but had also stripped her to a red pushup bra which pushed her 34c tits nearly to her chin, and a pair of red boy shorts. Both of which were not hers.

"Glad to see you are awake, Danielle", a harsh voice said in the shadows as Danielle's lip began to quiver. "Where am I?... Who are you?" She asked in a frightened whisper. "Wrong questions Danielle. I think the most important question right now, is what am I going to do to you", the voice replied as the creature emerged from the shadows.

It wasn't human. The beast had to be at least 7 feet tall and dark bristly hair covered it's entire naked body except for around its massive cock. The complete oppisite of a human being. It's cock was all Danielle could focus on at that very moment, even though she didn't want to. It was a 12 inches, fully erect, covered in boils and sweat and was being stroked by the monster's meaty hand while it grinned at the scampily clad girl.

"Now Danielle... We can do this the easy way, where you drop to your knees and suck like the good girl I know you are... Or... I can force you to your knees, and jam this 12 inch meat pipe down your throat and let you fight it out. Either way, i'm getting off in that tiny mouth of your's!" The demon said walking to the frightened teen, still stroking his cock.

"No... No... NO!!!" Danielle screamed as she tried to back away but instead clumsily tripped over her feet and slammed onto the gPost too long. Click here to view the full text.


 No.10398[Reply]

! -> This story is available in PDF and EPUB with pretty formatting, and is also posted on a couple more story-hosting websites. You can download / view them here:

https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/0B8DhVA4eIk1XMW1vS3ZWMzR1bDA?usp=sharing




With Season 7 of Game Of Thrones upon us, do you miss the older times when the problems – and the villains – were a bit more “down to Earth”? Lannisters who seemed like the worst people ever in the first season or two, Ramsay with his penchant for flaying and mind games, and, of course...

Joffrey “Baratheon” and his obsession with crossbows.

I used to write stories here on Gurochan before, under a different name, but it’s been a very long time since I’ve completed anything. This story is an attempt to recreate the events that were mentioned – but not shown on screen – in an episode from Season 3, namely the unfortunate demise of Ros and the hands of Joffrey. I originally wanted to write this right away, way back in 2013 when the episode aired, but life always seemed to be getting in the way. The story survived two major rewrites since its inception and lots of editing, and finally now I consider it finished. Better late than never, eh? :)

It ended up being quite “moody” – it has a long buildup and explores the warping of minds of both the victim and the sadist – but rest assured, it gets as violent as you expect it to be if you remember that scene. It’s mostly written from the victim’s POV, but occasionally switches to the POV of the torturer. It’s almost 16K words long, which translates to about 1-2 hours of reading. It was written without any explicit chapters in mind and is probably best consumed in one sitting for maximum immersion, but it’s split into 8 natural “parts” if you need to put it down for a while.

You don’t need to be familiar with Game Of Thrones to read it, nor do you need to remember Season 3 in detail. There’s a brief memo below, and the story has all the necessary exposition.

I hope you enjoy it! Let’s see if you identify with the sadistic King, or sympathize with his victim.

Disclaimer



“Chaos Is A Ladder” is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or events is entirely coincidental.

GPost too long. Click here to view the full text.
15 posts omitted. Click reply to view.

 No.10676

Myranda could give a girl to her dogs. She could masturbate as the dogs rape the girl and begin to tear her to pieces. Bonus points if a dog eats the victim's vagina (literally)

 No.10677

Myranda could give a girl to her dogs. She could masturbate as the dogs rape the girl and begin to tear her to pieces. Bonus points if a dog eats the victim's vagina (literally)

 No.10695

>>10675
Thanks you for the feedback, I'm really glad you liked it! Yeah, my own "ideal" story length is a bit less, too, perhaps something like 10K words. But for this one, I wanted to stay true to the canon and write within the restrictions of the original (amount and placement of bolts matching the image, how these characters could behave, etc.), so ultimately I decided to let the events unfold at a realistic pace.

Actually, I recently found the very first draft of this from 2013, and Joffrey pulling out the crossbow happened at the 800 words mark there (it's at 2800 here). But that old unfinished version is honestly terrible in every other regard.

>>10676
Yeah, dogs are probably bound to make an appearance in one way or another, if it's something involving Ramsay or Myranda.

 No.10696

You could also have the Mountain rape a girl to death.

 No.11080

>>10410
While this one isn't from me, there's a story about Arya that someone else posted a few days ago, and I found it to be quite good. Short and on point.

For some reason I can't post a direct link to the thread, but hopefully this will work:
>>10999
Otherwise, look for "No-One (Game of thrones)" in the /lit/ list.



 No.8563[Reply]

"Get your tits out." I told the beautiful monster.

"But I'm your mother!" She protested as she unbuttoned her blouse.

"I said get your tits out, Bitch!" I commanded as I cocked the gun I had aimed at her magnificent bosom, adding some urgency to her efforts to display it for me. "I want to see how much they bounce when I shoot them."

My mother froze when she finished processing what I said, which is just what I wanted. She had already exposed her massive breasts to me and I shot her between them three times. They bounced, rippled, and lactated as if in celebration of the murder of their owner as she fell to her knees, gaping like a fish out of water before falling into her back and showering herself with her own milk. If I had any hope of resisting the urge to rape her before, it certainly disappeared after that show. The congregation was too horrified to stop me.

When I knelt between her thighs and stuck my cock into her pussy, I could feel it trying to heat up and cool down at the same time. While thrusting, I leaned forward and licked up some of the milk her body released to relieve the burden on her lungs. Then I moved my face up to hers and forced my dying mother to drink some of her own milk. I then whispered into her ear.

"You can't hurt me any more, now. But look at it this way: you don't have to worry about your heart problems." After I came inside her, I turned my attention to the pastor's three beautiful, angelic daughters. "Take your clothes off. You'll be escorting my mother to Heaven."

 No.8579

Nice. It'd be great if one of them got a pussy shot

 No.10849

Nice! I like the lactation, there's not a lot of that in the literature section.

 No.10989

We need more incest/snuff stories!

 No.10994

A bit short and... lacking in detail. A good potential outline, but needs fleshing out to be an actual story.



 No.10922[Reply]

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 No.10644[Reply]

“Lord Vader.”

The hologram of Emperor Palpatine smiled in the dark cavern, a soft cackle escaping his lips as Vader knelt before his master. His stomach sickened as he wondered why his master called – for he must have learned, or soon will learn, the truth of what happened to his child. He had a son, a child he believed to be unborn and dead inside the remains of his wife, and he was skilled and talented. The Force flew through him more than the youth could have ever known – bringing their paths together on opposite ends, in a cruel display of fate.

He made little pretense in his search for the man. Yes, he was the individual responsible for the destruction of the Emperor’s prized Death Star, also responsible for the loss of trillions of credits and putting the Empire into immense debt, but there was little fooling a person as powerful as Emperor Palpatine. Every ripple, he waved away. Every lose thread, he unraveled until it burst to disorder. Darth Vader hated that man, more now than ever before, as his own deception became apparent.

“There is a great disturbance in the Force.”

“I have felt it,” huffed the Sith, the rage in his tone muffled out by the respirator.

“We have a new enemy – Luke Skywalker.”

“Yes, my Master,” he stared as his hands clenched, his focus on the Emperor completely still, unwavering, as he pretended to go along with the charade. There was a pause between the two men as Palpatine smiled once more, the flesh where his eyebrows had once been raising with interest. Vader knew he was at risk – him and his boy. He scowled underneath that helmet, waiting for his Master to speak.

“He could destroy us.”

“He’s just a boy,” bitterly replied Vader as he twisted in his position, though his bow towards his Master refused to break. He was a boy that had been robbed from him – and now, Palpatine wanted to strip him from his grasp once more. That could not happen under any circumstance. “Obi-Wan can no longer help him.”

“The Force is strong with this Skywalker; he must never become a Jedi. We must find him and eliminate him at all costs. I have warned many of our regional governors and moffs of this boy; should they find him, they are to kill him on sight. He is a threat to our order and a remnant of someone that died years ago. He will only cause us, you, torment. We must end him and quickly.”

“My lord, if he could be turned, he could be a powerful ally.”

“Yes,” nodded PPost too long. Click here to view the full text.

 No.10915

This was good.



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