Stretch Goals (f/f, con, stretching, gaping, prolapse, contortion)The first three chapters of this story were written by PogueMahone. The fourth chapter is a collaborative effort between PogueMahone and myself. If you like it, you might enjoy some of our other work, which can be found here:
School SelectionDisclaimer: just a horror fetish, entirely fictional, don't do anything that will harm somebody in real life.
Assorted Works of EllenI have been writing more recently, and I wanted to make one thread for all of my stuff. I like affectionate and well endowed executioners, I like pullups, I like gentle flirting and snuggles, and mostly semi-con situations. So my stuff will have these things a good bit of the time.. Not always. I made a new thread because the Nobles stuff wasn't getting the creative juices flowing but I did have ideas. This will be assorted stuff, there will be some Nobles and Clones, but there will also be other setups, and one-shots. if you don't like one, you might like the next. If you like it, definitely let me know! :) the first couple posts will be my stuff from other threads.
Zhang Xiaofeng Series (dolcett, pixiv, translation, plotbeforesmut, slowburn)Translator note: used square brackets for comments. Originally a chinese story posted on pixiv, with accompanying illustrations that were shared on /g/.
GuroVR: Noob Encounters a Lesser Succubus1
Snuff Olympics - Spears for all the ladiesSnuff Olympics – Spears for all the ladies
Marinette on the Menu (Miraculous Ladybug, Tags inside)Marinette on the Menu
Preschool BBQIt had been about 6 months since the apocalypse had suddenly hit, and so far everything had been okay at sunny side preschool program. The founder had been a bit of a disaster prepper, and always kept many months supplies of provisions on hand. They had lost contact with the outside world, and so far all the adults who they sent out to find help had never made it back. A few of the parents had however made it to the school, but it was down to 5 adults and 30 scared tots aged from toddler to around 6 years old.
Dark Monster Town (Dolcett, torture, snuff, sex, monsters and humans, mixed)After reading "Harpy Chase" in forbiddenfeast, I just typed until I was tired. Dolcett bonanza.
The Foot Collector (part one)I loosedned the leather straps around her ankles slightly so that I could pull off her white school socks. Her feet were smooth and pale, with a pinkish blush on her soles, which were a little damp to the touch and smelt of earthy mushrooms. I picked off a couple of bits of fluff from between her toes and ran my fingers hungrily over her beautiful, young feet, enjoying how they flexed and scrunched at my touch.
Tanks, Cars, and Sexy Girls"Seventy, maybe eighty…" I estimated, counting about ten by eight, with a few hollow spaces occupied by longer distance between the broken down cars the girls were bound inside of.
For Honor Guro (Snuff, Necro, Piss, Mild Lactation)((Alright so I've been playing For Honor and I think a bit of guro is deserved. So each part I'll focus on one or two female characters to kill and fuck, I would love feedback aswell as recommendations for the next part.))
Springs of Pleasure (cons, F/F, cann, amputation, debreasting, decunting, crushing, boiling)This one's a part of my longer FE story that's here: >>11826, but the much bigger focus on cann stuff that usual makes it seem worthy of a new thread
Obedience Training by DarinostExtreme, f, M, Bestiality, Bondage, Domination, Humiliation, Pain, Rape, Sadism, Submission, Water Sports, Non-Consensual
For the Good of Humanity: JenniferHello folks, I've decided to share my first ever Snuff story with the community. I've been looking at this site for few months now, give or take, and the level of acceptance and genuine lack of judgement is great.
Workout EquipmentThis story was originally posted to Ravishu.com by Beater. I am posting it here without their permission for the sake of sharing.
Yoga Class Slaughter(cons, free use, casual, cuckquean, choking, deepthroat, gutting)
The Free Use ThreadWelcome to the free use thread. The free use world is just like ours, except a man can fuck any woman he wants at any time (and vice versa). Snuff is not necessarily encouraged but not prohibited either. Most people will watch or spare a brief glance before moving on. Most girls don't want to be murdered but a rare few might enjoy it.
Lost and Found (M/f, semi-cons, anal, throating, first, rape, bagging, snuff)A few months ago our city got hit by a hurricane. After seeing what it had done in the Caribbean a few days before, most people decided to flee further inland, boarding up houses and shop, in the hopes that they would still be there when they returned.
Three Little Bitches Beheaded
Fire Emblem Heroines: The Guro EditionI'm starting a longer story using a bit reshaped version of the Fire Emblem Heroes universe. Any comments/suggestions will be appreciated, especially suggesting characters, since the game already has about 90 girls to choose from.
How to Format Stories for Easy ReadingGurochan isn't exactly Word when it comes to formatting options, but you've got a lot of basic tools at your disposal to make your story not a pain to read.
Ultra Short Stories Mk2 - 100 wordsThe old thread isn't bumping anymore. This seems to be a limitation of the new gurochan. Time for a renewal.
To Die For Honor(TAGS: M/F, Guro, Necrophilia, Rape, Ryona)
Curse of the Tomb Raider (f/f, cons, dismemberment, vivisection, necrophilia, respawning)This story is a collaborative effort between PogueMahone and myself. If you like it, you might enjoy some of our other work, which can be found here:
Short Capital Punishment Stories
Darla vs the Winged Devourers (loli, vore, snuff, rape, digestion, fantasy, slice of life)DARLA VS THE WINGED DEVOURERS
Vore Beach Bidding Party (Cons, vore, mft/mft)A Pixiv artist named Maximignon and their fabulous Vore/Cann artwork recently caught my eye. The image below, in particular, caught my fancy and I've decided to use it as the basis for an interactive story, like the Vore House tales from DeviantArt!
Bandit Splashed (female, noncon, military)Lt. Colonel Rosie Lucas shifted her head to look behind at the enemy chasing her. The RWR alarm warbled in her ear as the Osean fighter jet doggedly stuck to her tail.
Like it Honey? (insanity, rape, self-mutilation)Okay, I'm not too sure about this,it may be a bit too light for this place. I may continue it, dunno.
Looking for stories threadOkay, so from time to time somebody would create a thread looking for an old story, asking to repost it. Sometimes here on /lit/, sometimes in /req/ which seems more right according to the rules, but I bet threads in /lit/ have more chances, I think I've even seen one or two in /dis/. So it ends up:
Sailor Snuff ShowOver in /req/, there was a request for me to repost these stories of mine. So, here they are.
Breaking Eevee's Mind (Pokemon, Furry, Snuff, Mind Breaking, M/F, and more.)Hi there, Literature! Recently I wrote this snuff story for FurAffinity and Inkbunny, but something compelled me to share it here as well. This will mark my first ever post on gurochan, so hopefully things go well.
The Last Field Trip (Tags by chapter, but expect Cons, Non-Cons, Loli, Watersports)
Scream at the Void (F/F, sci-fi, shooting, piss)Mara Vostok awoke from cryosleep to the klaxon of the ship's alarm.
Jim's Snuff Truck (Tags in each chapter)Hi. GuroChan is back (hooray!) and I’ll celebrate with a story that I plan on turning into a series. I was writing under the name Loke on the old chan, I wrote a few stories that are still on here I think.
Club Meat Grinder (loli/shota, /fur/, snuff, mutilation, consensual, futa/herm)These are stories I've posted on my inkbunny account, but think are sufficiently gorey enough to also be worth posting here. The first story introduces the setting of Club Meat Grinder, the second and third stories going into how the two characters from the tour are snuffed. All in all it's about 30,000 words of nearly nonstop furry cub snuff, every 'victim' eagerly consenting to their fate. Enjoy.
Uravity's Last Fight (F/F, Bloodplay, Shapeshifting, Snuff)Uravity's Last Fight
The Cellar [MMg, rape, torture, extreme]I don't know what I was thinking. I was so mad at my mom that I just took off. I didn't care that I was in my tank top and shorts. I didn't care how far I walked. I just left the house. I must have been walking for at least an hour. I was down this part of the dirt road that I had never been on before. Just when I was about to turn back, a white van with no windows pulled beside me. Two men jumped out before I could figure out what was going on. I may have started to run. But before I knew it, one of them pointed some kind of gun at me, but a bullet didn't come out. A couple of metal hooks did instead, piercing me on my left chest. I felt my muscles contract violently as I fell to the floor, shaking uncontrollably.
A lesson learned (F/m, rape, sex, penectomy)He woke up in a dark musty room. To his surprise, he was completely naked. He was lying on a concrete slab, slightly angled so he was almost vertical but not quite. His hands were cuffed directly to the slab above his head. His feet were cuffed similarly so that he was spread eagle, leaving him incredibly exposed.
Short(er) Stories (loli, incest, semi-consensual, snuff, necrophilia, possibly more)I wanted a short break from the Outdoor Cinema series, so I wrote this story.
Susan: a Girl Apart (f/f, cons, dismemberment, vivisection, non-lethalRepost at the request of an anonymous reader in the 'Terry, Jen and the Terrigenesis' thread.
The psychologist (torture, cons, snuff(?))The psychologist (torture, cons, snuff(?))
Succulent Sirens (MLP, F/F, Cons, Non-con, Roasting, Butchering, Canni, Snuff)=Succulent Sirens=
Cynophobia (Dog girl, Dog/f, MMF/f, reluctant, non-consensual, pet play, minor scat and urine)Cynophobia
A shrill, high pitched scream of pure panic and terror rang through the house. Mr. Matheson, who had been on his favorite recliner, having a nice, lazy, Sunday afternoon nap, jolted out of his seat at the sound. He stumbled up and looked around for a moment, confused, his body ready for action but his brain still catching up, when the second scream, one that was even more panicked and insistent than the first, tore trough the air.
It was coming from the back yard.
Mr. Matheson leapt forward at the sound of the second scream, sprinting towards the rear of the house and the back yard. His heart surged, racing as adrenaline flooded into him, as he burst out of the home. From the amount of noise being made by whoever was screaming, he expected to find a scene of mayhem and chaos, perhaps even a pool of blood and a body or two.
What he found instead was his teenage daughter, cowering on top of the picnic table, as the neighbor's dog frolicked and ran around the yard, happily exploring and snuffling everything he came across.
"Samantha, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Mr. Matheson exclaimed, his voice a little rough from fear and the short, rapid sprint.
"What on earth are you yelling about?" he asked.
"Daddy!" Samantha cried. "Make him go away! Make him get out of the yard!"
The girl was covering her face, cringing really, with one hand, while the other pointed towards the object of her apparent fear: the neighbor's dog.
Said dog was currently rolling and squirming happily on the lawn. His short tail was wagging, and his whole body was wriggling in delight, at the feel of the cool, green grass against his pelt of short fur. When he noticed that Mr. Matheson's attention was on him, he issued forth a little joyous bark towards the man, his mouth open in a doggy smile, and wagged his tail and squirmed his body all the harder.
"Oh, of course." Mr. Matheson said, as his body deflated from its adrenaline fueled fight or flight instincts.
The neighbor's dog had jumped the picket fence, yet again. His daughter, who had probably been sunning herself on the grass, if her bikini top and brief, cutoff shorts were any indication, was scared of dogs. Naturally, instead of doing the reasonable thing and simply retreating into the house and asking someone else to deal with the canine intruder, she had utterly panicked and started screaming bloody murder.
Granted, the dog was quite large, probably even heavier than Samantha herself, but that was no reason to startle ten years of her father's life from him, and make half of the neighborhood think that someone was apparently being brutally murdered at the Matheson house.
"Samantha, come down from there." Mr. Matheson said, frowning at his daughter, his irritation as being so rudely shocked awake from his nap obvious. "And quit your hysterics. I know that you don't like dogs, but there are limits, young lady, and you are testing them."
Actually, saying that his daughter didn't like dogs was something of an understatement, sort of like saying that the ocean was a bit wet. Samantha was absolutely terrified of the animals, even of the smallest, most harmless of terriers, and couldn't stand to be near them at all.
"Daddy, please!" Samantha said, her voice tight with worry and fear. "He'll get me! Get him out of the yard first!"
"Oh, for goodness sake." Mr. Matheson said, rolling his eyes.
"Bruno, here boy!" he called, a moment later, to the dog.
Bruno perked up at once, and leapt up, his tail wagging so hard that his whole rear end was moving in time with it, and raced towards Mr. Matheson. The dog ran several excited circles around the man, his clawed paws digging into the turf and kicking up bits of grass, before he finally came to a halt before him.
As Mr. Matheson reached down to pet the dog, Bruno bounded up on his hind legs, planted his front paws on the man's thighs, and stretched up to give the man's face a doggy kiss, slobbering all over him.
Samantha cried out again at this, clearly expecting the dog to do something like go for her father's throat.
"Daddy, watch out!"
"Blech!" Mr. Matheson spat, half amused and half disgusted, as he wiped the dog spit from his face with one hand and ruffled the happy dog's ears with the other.
"Bruno, you are a menace!" he said, his tone light and clearly not serious.
Mr. Matheson then spent the next minute or so rubbing and petting the ecstatic dog all over, ignoring his daughter's continuing stream of fearful warnings and cries of alarm.
"Alright, boy, lets go." he finally said, hooking a couple of fingers under the dog's collar. "Lets get you back home."
Mr. Matheson led the dog towards the neighbor's fence, which really wasn't tall enough at all. The young dog had the power and energy, with a lot left over to spare, needed to make the short jump over it whenever he felt like it. Samantha, still crouched on the picnic table, was almost directly between Mr. Matheson, Bruno, and the fence, and he and the dog passed within just a few feet of the girl on the way.
Samantha looked increasingly alarmed as the dog approached, and started begging and pleading with her father.
"Daddy, no! Keep him away, please!"
Mr. Matheson paused, sighed, and gave his daughter a level look as he held firmly on to the wriggling dog's collar.
"Samantha, Bruno isn't going to hurt you. I know that you're scared of dogs, but this is ridiculous." he said.
"Daddy, please, get him AWAY!" she cried in response, backing as far away as she could from them while still staying on top of the picnic table.
"Samantha, why don't you try coming down from there and petting Bruno?" her father asked. "I guarantee that he won't hurt you, promise."
The girl's only response was to start hiccuping in fear, her chest hitching rather alarmingly. It looked like she was nearly in tears.
Mr. Matheson shook his head, clearly disappointed with his daughter. He then led Bruno to the fence, hoisted the heavy hound over it, and received one last doggy lick to the face for his trouble.
"There, you're safe now." Mr. Matheson said to his daughter, his words dry. "Really, Samantha, this is getting to be a bit much. We need to do something about this irrational fear of yours."
"Daddy, he's huge!" Samantha replied, as she cautiously descended from the picnic table. "He could eat me in, like, two whole bites."
"Daughter mine, if I've said it once, I've said it a million times: please don't exaggerate. It just makes you sound silly."
"Oh, ha ha, dad, very fun.." Samantha started to reply, shaking her head. She interrupted herself though, giving out a frightened squeak, her eyes widening dramatically. Then she darted towards the house's back door, in full, rapid retreat.
Mr. Matheson turned around, unperturbed, to see what had startled his daughter so.
Bruno's head, peeking over the fence, was what. The dog let out a happy bark, pleased with himself, as Mr. Matheson snorted in amusement.
"Yep, we need to do something about that girl." he said quietly to himself, as he walked back towards the house. "I think I know what might help, but I'd better have a talk with her mother about it, first."
Mr. Matheson brought up his idea at dinner that evening. His wife, who had cooked the excellent meal his family was currently engaged in eating, looked up curiously as he cleared his throat. Christopher, his son, looked at his father as well, his expression mildly interested. Samantha, who had been picking listlessly at her food, and who still seemed to be a bit shaky and traumatized by her encounter earlier in the day, also looked up.
"Samantha, your mother and I had a talk this afternoon, about your reaction to Bruno." he said.
The girl shuddered at the dog's name, clearly uncomfortable talking, or even thinking, about him.
"From what we understand, most fear stems from ignorance, from a lack of understanding." Mr. Matheson continued. "People are scared of the dark, for example, because they can't see what might be in it. Shining a light into that darkness, though, illuminating and revealing the unknown, makes that fear go away."
"If one comes to know and understand something, even something that might seem terrible, then one is much less likely to be so afraid of that thing afterwards." he finished, looking pointedly at his daughter, and then to the window overlooking the neighbor's yard.
"Um, okay, I guess.. I guess that makes sense." Samantha slowly replied, looking warily back and forth between her parents.
"So, if you spent some time trying to understand dogs, how and why they act the way they do, then you might not be so afraid of them, right?" Mr. Matheson asked.
"I know all I need to know about dogs already!" Samantha replied, heatedly. "They're big, they're mean, and they're scary."
"And, they've got huge teeth!" she finished, pulling on the corner of her mouth with a finger, revealing her own teeth, in demonstration.
Mrs. Matheson sighed, then spoke.
"Dear, take your finger out of your mouth. That's disgusting."
"That is exactly the kind of response that has your mother and I so worried." Mr. Matheson said, looking serious. "You're blowing your fears about dogs all out of proportion. Dangerously so, even."
"Daddy, please." Samantha said, with a small, derisive snort. "I think that's a bit of an exaggeration."
"Dear, you screamed so loud this afternoon that your father thought you were being murdered." Mrs. Matheson said, reasonably. "He could have tripped and broken his neck while he was sprinting out to go "save" you. And from what? From a friendly dog, one that was still a puppy less than a year ago, that wouldn't hurt a fly."
"He got there just in time!" Samantha said, her face growing red. "B-Bruno could have killed me!"
Christopher rolled his eyes and snickered at this, chuckling softly, his opinion on Bruno's dangerousness quite evident.
Samantha rounded on her younger brother, glaring at him furiously.
"Oh, what do you know, you little..!" she started to say, before being cut off by her father.
"That's enough." he said, firmly. "Samantha, you can't go on like this, reacting completely irrationally and panicking every time you come across a dog. Your mother and I have discussed this, and we think that if you took some time to really understand dogs, that you might be able to overcome your fears about them."
A look of sheer terror crept slowly across Samantha's face, as she looked at her father in growing horror.
"You're.. you're going to get me a dog, aren't you?" she asked, her voice small, almost whimpering in fear.
"What? No, no, nothing like that." Mr. Matheson replied, shaking his head. "How would that help?"
"No, Samantha, YOU are going to be the dog."
Both Samantha and Christopher blinked at this, apparently completely nonplussed by their father's casual statement.
"Um.. what?" Samantha ventured, after a moment or two. "What do you mean?"
"I think that if you spent some time as a dog, living as they do, you might understand them better." Mr. Matheson said, nodding at his daughter. "You might even lose your fear of them entirely."
"I.. what?" she replied, her evident confusion only mounting.
"I talked this over with your mother, and she agreed with me: we think that this might be the best thing for you." Mr. Matheson explained. "I had her pick up a few things for you, to help you adjust to being a dog, while she was out shopping earlier today."
"You're.. you're going to make me into a dog?" Samantha asked, disbelievingly.
"The family dog, yes." Mr. Matheson agreed, nodding again. "Hopefully, after being a dog for a while, you'll have more empathy, and feel much less fear, towards other dogs."
"Oh, that makes sense." Christopher said, nodding his own head in agreement.
"It.. It does?!" Samantha asked, looking incredulously at her brother.
"Of course it does, dear." Mrs. Matheson said.
"But, I don't want to be a dog!" the girl cried, wringing her hands.
"Well, of course you don't." her mother replied, shaking her head. "That's what we're trying to fix, isn't it? Your irrational fear of dogs and anything to do with them."
"No 'buts', Samantha. It's settled." her father said, firmly. "This is your last meal as a girl, as a human. After dinner, your mother is going to take you to the laundry room and put your new doggy accessories on."
"Then, after that, you're going to stay a dog until you've lost your fear of them." he finished.
Samantha looked at her father, stunned, her mouth hanging open.
"How long do you think that will take, dad?" Christopher asked, absently, as he resumed eating dinner.
"Not too long, I think. A few days, or a week, or two, probably." Mr. Matheson said, waving his hand in a vague, dismissive manner. "Or a year. However long it takes."
"But.. But I.. don't want.. to be a.. be a.." Samantha said, weakly, her shock at her sudden demotion to family pet quite evident on her face.
"It's decided. No 'buts'." Mr. Matheson said again, his tone iron. "Now, eat your vegetables, Samantha."
"This really is for the best, dear." Mrs. Matheson said to her daughter, reaching over to pat her on the arm.
"And besides, you'll make such a beautiful dog!" she continued, smiling fondly at Samantha.
As the rest of her family returned to eating their meal, Samantha sat rigid in her chair, still not quite believing the conversation that had just taken place.
Surely, she thought, surely they couldn't be serious.
They were serious.
Mrs. Matheson led her daughter, who was still stunned enough to not resist her mother's commands and instructions, to the laundry room after the meal was over.
Her mother had a bag, which had the logo of a local pet store emblazoned across it, sitting on the washing machine, waiting for her. The very first thing that Mrs. Matheson pulled out of the bag was probably the most shocking to Samantha. It was a dog collar.
It was HER dog collar.
Samantha started trembling all over at the sight of it. Her mother mistook Samantha's trembling for excitement, and beamed at her daughter, proudly showing her the thing which would render her from a human girl to a mere pet.
"I got you a nice one, dear. It was very expensive, but I think that you're worth it." Mrs. Matheson said, setting the collar aside.
She then pulled out more things from the bag. There were what appeared to be crude, mitten like gloves, as well as a fluffy, dog-like tail attached to some sort of large, black, pear shaped object, and finally, several straps and odd flaps of various sizes, thicknesses, and designs. Everything seemed to be made out of the same heavy, brown leather.
"Paws first, I think." Mrs. Matheson said, sorting through the pile of pet gear.
"Mom.." Samantha started, sounding more than a little lost and out of her depth. "I don't want to be a.. be a dog."
"Well, I wasn't so sure about this idea myself, dear, but you know your father." Mrs. Matheson admitted. "Once he gets set on something, there's no changing his mind."
"And, you have to admit, he made some good points, too. You really do need to learn to relax around dogs, Samantha." She finished. "I mean, having my daughter scream and go into hysterics every time she sees a chihuahua is a bit embarrassing for for me. Surely you can see that, right?"
"No. No more 'buts', like your father said, dear." Mrs. Matheson said, firmly. "Now, let me see your hands."
In but a pair of moments, Samantha's mother had the vaguely paw shaped leather mittens on her daughter's hands. They had straps that, when secured around Samantha's wrists, locked them into place tightly.
"How's that, too tight?"
"I guess they're.. okay?" Samantha answered, uncertainly.
"Good. Now, try to take them off."
Samantha, who was already growing to dislike the feel of the rough leather against her slim, un-calloused fingers, eagerly complied with her mother's instruction. Unfortunately, the gloves allowed her almost no finger movement, and she was unable to so much as budge the straps securing them to her wrists.
"I.. I can't!" Samantha said, alarmed.
"Perfect, then." her mother replied, satisfied. "Lets get the rest of these things on you."
"They sell this kind of stuff at the pet store?" Samantha asked, shaking her head in consternation at the pile of gear that it seemed she would soon be wearing.
"Oh, they had quite a large selection, actually. I got just the basics for you." Mrs. Matheson answered. "The clerks there were very helpful when I told them what I needed. Such pleasant girls."
"They even told me that, if you don't work out, they could sell me a replacement for you, quite cheaply." she continued. "Apparently, they're a bit over stocked at the moment."
Samantha eyed her mother, her expression a mix of surprise and disbelief. Before Samantha could ask for clarification on just what she meant, though, her mother gave her daughter a new instruction.
"Okay, now, down on your hands and knees, please."
"Well, dogs don't go around walking on two feet, do they?"
"I have to be on my hands and knees the whole time?!" Samantha asked, her tone outraged and offended.
"Yes.. er, no. What I mean is that you'll be walking on your paws and knees. Dogs don't have hands, after all." Mrs. Matheson explained.
Reluctantly, Samantha complied with her mother's command, and knelt down on the floor before her. Samantha's face flushed with embarrassment as she looked up at her mother's form, which loomed tall above her, from her new, lowly position.
"Good. Now, hold still."
Samantha's mother then slipped two wide, heavy straps around her daughter's legs, and used them to secure her ankles to her thighs. This left Samantha balanced on only her knees and her new paws, with her bare feet wiggling uselessly in their new place at the bottom of her rump.
"Hmm." Mrs. Matheson hummed, looking at the remaining items in the pile of gear. "I think that the gag is probably the best thing to do next."
"And before you ask, yes, you have to wear it." she said, looking down at her daughter severely. "Dogs don't talk."
"Mom, please.." Samantha begged, looking up at her mother hopefully.
She was, somewhat ironically, unconsciously making puppy eyes as she did so.
"Shush. Hold still." Mrs. Matheson commanded.
The gag was a deep red ball, which was mounted on yet more leather strapping. Without any ado, Mrs. Matheson simply inserted it into her daughter's mouth, lifted her medium length hair out of the way, and tightened it's straps securely around the back of her head.
"There we go. Now I don't have to listen to any more whining." Mrs. Matheson said, sounding somewhat relieved.
Samantha whimpered at this, her large eyes still begging her mother to undo what she had done.
"Well, except for that kind of whining." Mrs. Matheson said, laughing lightly. "But that's okay, because that's the proper way for a dog to whine when it wants something."
"Okay, just ears, tail, collar, and leash to go."
The ears, which turned out to be the odd leather flaps, mounted on what was essentially a hair band, slipped onto Samantha's head easily enough, but the tail came as something of a shock to the girl. It quickly became apparent that it didn't simply strap on to her.
Samantha first knew something was wrong when her mother started cutting her clothes from her, using a pair of large scissors. Samantha squirmed at this, but her mother simply ignored her daughter's feeble protests, and snipped her bikini top, cutoff jean shorts, and finally even her panties cleanly off.
Soon enough, Samantha was as bare as the day she was born and flushed beet red with embarrassment, gagged, naked, and kneeling at her mother's feet.
"No, dogs don't get to wear clothes, either." Mrs. Matheson said, answering the obvious question on her daughter's face. "Now, turn around so I can put your tail in."
Samantha complied, slowly, looking over her shoulder the entire time, her worry easily readable on her features.
Then her mother stuck the bulbous, rubbery end of the tail into her bottom.
It was, thankfully, already lubricated. Due to it's shape, it slipped into her rear entrance without too much fuss, though it's size still stretched her out far more than she could have prepared herself for. Her shriek of surprise at the intrusion was muffled by her gag into a simple, yipping sound of protest, and she collapsed on to the floor afterward, shaking. The girl's hips squirmed and rolled, in a futile effort to dislodge the tail now set deep into her bottom.
"There we go. Just one last thing to go, Samantha, and then you'll be a dog."
Mrs. Matheson picked up the collar and showed it to her daughter again.
"The girls at the pet store said that this is the perfect collar for a new, untrained dog." she said, stroking the heavy, strong leather proudly. "It even comes with a remote control of some kind."
"Well, lets get it on you. We've spent enough time in here; I'm sure that your father and brother are eager to see just how well you've turned out." she continued. "Lift your head up, dear."
Samantha just shook her head at her mother, her eyes beginning to water, as she looked up at what was about to become the only symbol of her status in the world.
"Now, now, don't be like that." her mother chided. "It really isn't as bad as you seem to think. Just imagine, in a few days or so, you'll probably be cured of your silly fear of dogs completely, and you'll be able to go through the rest of your life with a new, improved outlook and a better appreciation for them."
Samantha looked up at her mother for a few more moments, her eyes still begging, then gave up, her body sagging limply in defeat.
Mrs. Matheson patted her daughter on the head, stroking her hair for a moment. Then, she slipped the collar around Samantha's neck, threaded the end through the buckle, and cinched it secure.
The collar wasn't too tight, but it certainly wasn't going to slip off over the girl's head; it was obvious that it wouldn't be coming off anytime soon.
The last thing Mrs. Matheson did, after attaching a leash to Samantha's new collar, was to collect girl's discarded clothes and casually dump the now unneeded and useless scraps of garment into the trash bin. Then, tugging on the leash firmly, she left the laundry room and Samantha behind, and led the family's new dog out into the world.
The Many Deaths of Julie (non-con, snuff, gutting, gun/knife play, hard vore, rape, and more)There is far too little non-con snuff on this board, so I decided to post some stuff and hopefully inspire and/or attract some non-con fans here. I'd also like to say that violence against women and sexual assault are very big problems in society, and these fantasies are not meant to condone or perpetrate those issues in any way.
Waifu Wars Blood and BoobsLauren-I'm Lauren
Post Mortem Incest (m/f-f, Incest, Necro, Shooting, Piss, Shit.)Everyone I know – my friends, coworkers, relatives, wife, and kids, and pretty much the entire town – has heard the story of how my sisters were brutally gunned down when I was fifteen. It was Winter of 2021, and a cult of anarchists had formed and gained influence in the United States. The Obliterators, as they called themselves, created a new form of terrorism which involved invading homes at random and killing everyone they could find. My house was one of the first to be targeted by this new tactic. Based on my personal testimony, investigators, as well as the media, believed the terrorists left under the assumption that I was already dead, after I tumbled and knocked myself unconscious. That story is ludicrous, and the fact that they believe the Obliterators left without making sure I was dead is amusing; responsive or not, they would have shot me anyways to be sure. However; this misinformation was beneficial to me, and I always agreed with the official story when I was asked. The truth of the matter is, I was conscious through the whole ordeal; I survived because they never found me, and I never let them know I was in the house. That is not the main reason I kept this a secret.
Cruelty-free meat (consensual, anal, ws, cannibalism, snuff)First time doing this. Did not put a lot of effort in it, just kept rambling (made it mainly for myself with no intention of sharing), but maybe someone will enjoy it. Might continue it sometime.
The Champions' ElegyUrbosa's Lament (part 1)
Consensual Genocide Run - Undertale (cons, gutting, choking, meat grinder, de-limb, crushing)Consensual Genocide Run: An Undertale Story
Amongst the flowers, you wake.
Around you, golden blooms stretch up towards the crack of light from whence you fell, their soft stalks forming the cushion that had spared you. The light, sweet scent of them surrounds you, and you sit up slowly, petals tumbling from your hair as you look about. The little cavern you are in has little of interest, save the patch of flowers, but a tunnel hewn into the rock leads off, promising a potential escape.
Not remembering why or how you had fallen, you spend a moment seated in that circle of life, fingers curled in the grass and stems while you try to adjust to these strange new surroundings. Eventually, you decide you won't figure out anything by just staying in one place, and stand to explore the passageway.
Promisingly, the entrance into the next cavern is shaped into an ornate archway, the dark stone carved into columns topped by a sigil you don't recognize. Inside, you find another flower, all alone in another beam of light.
Interested by this oddity, you crouch down to inspect it more closely. Stroking the petals, you realize that the florets in the center form a distinct visage, the fuzzy flesh of the inner flower bulb looking like a faintly smirking face. Just as you move to touch it, aiming to discern whether it is real or a product of head trauma, it opens its eyes, and speaks.
"Howdy! I'm FLOWEY. FLOWEY the FLOWER!" It grins amiably up at you, stalk wriggling. Nonplussed, you stare back at it, unsure how to respond to the talking flora.
Unperturbed, it continues cheerfully. "You don't know this, but you and me are a lot alike! Hee hee hee..." Suddenly, the shape of Flowey's face changes, becoming a grotesque grin with wide, hollow eyes. "We both take pleasure in hurting, and twisting people to our will... Don't ask how I know." In a blink, its turns back into the cheerful, cute little expression you first saw.
"Anyway, I have something very special for you! I've been working really hard on it... you won't believe how long it took to get them all like this. Whenever I get... the urge... I like to load this place up and have some fun!" It glances off to the side, where another hall opens up. "She'll be here soon. I don't care to get scorched again, so I'll leave you to it. Have fun, and make sure to give them all what they want, alright? Cause in this world... it's snuff, or BE snuffed."
Winking at you, a mote of Flowey's pollen sparkles in the sun, exaggerating the confidential gesture. With that, the little flower shoots suddenly downward, disappearing completely into the earth.
Before you any time to dwell on what the talking flower could have meant by this, a fireball bursts against the spot where it had just been, and you hear soft feet padding rapidly across the stone. Turning to the next passageway, where from the fire had come, you see a white, robed shape approaching, and hear a soft, matronly voice. "Oh, what a terrible creature, torturing such a poor, innocent youth..."
The creature that had saved you steps out into the light, and you take in a startled breath at the sight of her. Humanoid, but covered in soft white fur in place of skin, her face is pulled out into a graceful muzzle, deep crimson eyes furrowed in concern. Long, drooping ears fall from the top of her skull, rounded at the ends, and small horns curl out from just above them. With the robe draping over her heavy curves, she looks very much like some sort of goat or cow, fused with someone's mother.
Her long lashes flutter as she turns toward you, noticing the expression on your face. "Ah, do not be afraid, my child..." You raise your eyebrows slightly, being a little older what most would consider a 'child'... but the way she says it makes it feel nothing like an insult. Introducing herself, she continues. "I am Toriel, caretaker of the Ruins. I pass through this place every day to see if anyone has fallen down."
Looking at you up and down as she speaks, she suddenly turns her head away, lifting a closed hand to her chest in an obvious sign of embarrassed shyness. "You are the first human to come down here in a... very, very long time."
Suddenly walking back towards where she had first come from, she quickly calls back, "Come! I will guide you through the catacombs. This way."
For lack of anything better to do, you follow the matronly goat person, watching her heavy rear and fluffy tail swing side to side with each step as she leads you further on. You pass briefly through an empty courtyard of chiseled columns and stairs, with roses planted all around, filling the air with their scent. It cloys, compared to the lighter scent of the golden flowers, and you are glad when you come into the next room.
Within, Toriel waits for you, hands clasped beneath the swell of her bosom. She smiles briefly, meeting your eye, and glances towards an arrangement of six flat cylindrical stones that protrude from the nearby floor. "Welcome to your new home, innocent one." Your lips twitch at the endearment, knowing that no matter what you have forgotten, 'innocent' is something you are not.
"Allow me to educate you in the operation of the Ruins." Toriel turns to the stones, and steps upon four of them in quick succession, then grabbing and pulling a lever that you hadn't noticed before she touched it. A door opens, and you ponder the reason for such a strange method of unlocking it. Seeing your thoughtful expression, Toriel smiles over her shoulder, explaining, "The Ruins are full of puzzles, ancient fusions between diversions and doorkeys. One must solve them to move room to room. Please adjust yourself to the sight of them."
Proceeding deeper into the strange place she calls the Ruins, Toriel stops you before you can even take two steps into the next room, a paw-like hand pressing protectively into your chest. "To make progress here, you will need to trigger several switches. Do not worry, I have labelled the ones you need to flip."
At first, you consider this at least mildly helpful. That is, before you see the switches themselves. There are three in total, with only one needing to be left unflipped to proceed. Patronizing amounts of bright yellow arrow point to them, with helpful, feminine handwriting scribbled beside them. Putting up with it for now, you jerk them both down and go to the door, where Toriel smiles and pats your hand like you were a child. "Splendid! I am very impressed!" Now, you wonder how stupid she must be, both to think you would have needed help, and to be impressed by such an simple task. Still, her hand on your arm feels pleasant, and it stays there as she walks with you to the next room, so you say nothing.
Now, you come across a stuffed facsimile of Toriel herself, slightly smaller, but dressed in one of her robes and with a rather impressive painting of her face. Reluctantly, she releases you, stepping away slightly and avoiding your gaze. "As a human in the Underground, monsters may make advances toward you. You will need to be prepared for this situation." She meets your eyes, and manages an encouraging smile. "However, worry not! The process is simple."
She directs you toward the dummy. "When you encounter a monster, they will want to fuck." She gestures to the stuffed version of herself, blushing and looking down. In a small voice, she adds, "While you are fucking, feel free to snuff them whenever you wish." When you do not move, she mumbles, "You may practice this on the dummy..."
This sudden turn of events has you more than a little confused, and also somewhat aroused. From what she says, sex is a rather casual thing for monsters... and apparently, killing one during a fuck would be perfectly fine. You look at the woman in a new light, wondering whether this is some strange come-on, or if she's actually trying to teach you an important social rule. Either way, you don't see much point in denying her.
Stepping close to the dummy, you consider it for a moment. Though its legs are only wooden poles, the torso and upper body are excellently stitched, resembling a slightly more compact version of Toriel's own generous curves. You reach out and stroke one stuffed breast, glancing back at her. A brand of bright red blush runs across her muzzle, and you can see her breathing heavily, hand pressed against her own breast in the very same spot. You move your hand slowly, and watch in amazement as she moves her own in a mirror of you, not even trying to conceal it.
Your cock starts to stir and stiffen in your pants as you play with this power, making her do every lewd thing imaginable to her breasts via the dummy. You consider having her strip her dress of right then and there by ripping it off the stitched skin of her copy, but decide that at this rate, you'll have her naked soon enough in any case. Better to wait for somewhere more comfortable. You almost step away from the dummy, then suddenly remember what else Toriel had said. "Feel free to snuff them, whenever you wish."
In a snap decision, you go for the throat of the mannequin, grabbing it suddenly with both hands and squeezing brutally, staring intently at Toriel while you strangle her lookalike. She gasps, letting out a shuddering breath, and slowly raises her own hands to her neck. You watch her squeeze, and see the round tips of her breasts poke out as her nipples stiffen beneath the robe, her arousal increasing as she runs out of air. Her voice is strained and shallow as she moans, face turning blue before she finally lets her hands fall, slumping heavily against the wall. By that time, you'd already ripped the head off of the dummy, and she stares at the cottony gore with glazed eyes. "Ah... very good. You are very good."
Staggering into the next room, she slowly regains her breath, seeming to grow more content and relaxed by the second. Brushing scraps of cotton off your clothes, you follow her once again, hoping you find somewhere more private soon.
Trailing behind her through a short corridor, you soon encounter a concerning amount of spikes protruding from a bridge across a water filled room. Before you can begin to puzzle out how to progress, Toriel thrusts out a hand to you, murmuring, "Hold onto me for a moment, child... I will hurry us across this trap."
This time, her guidance is far from patronizing. Leading you in a seemingly random pattern that keeps you from any real spikes, your proximity to fatal impalement almost kills the mood... but you entertain yourself with thoughts of shoving her to her death, instead.
By the time you reach the other side, your heart is pounding in your chest. As such, it comes as a relief when Toriel turns and says, "That's enough puzzles for now... I must attend to some business, and you must stay alone for a while." She clutches your hand tightly in both of hers, seeming regretful, and steps a little closer. "Please remain here," she pleads. "I will come back to you soon, and then..."
She trails off, panting softly, and you realize the middle of her robe is stained around her thighs. Apparently you were not the only one getting excited so close to the spikes. "It will only be a moment," she insists, backing away. Her hips sway obscenely as she trots quickly out of sight, going down a long corridor and around a corner.
Not enjoying being left out in the cold, however briefly, you ignore her request and begin to trace her path at once. To your surprise, you completely lose track of her path after the first turn, delayed by puzzle after puzzle until your frustration is at a boiling point.
After drowning an obstinate rock in a shallow pool, you use it as a stepping stone to circumvent the another set of spikes in your path, and shove past all else in your way to try and catch Toriel. At this point, you're almost enjoying the hunt, fruitless though it may so far be. Striding down hallways, you turn back at dead end after dead end, finally finding