/lit/ - Literature

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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 scalpel tore through her she began to scream. The knife plucked through cords of meat within her that she could not see, popping through the different textures of flesh that she knew nothing about but could feel with heightened awareness. With each snag she screamed, crying against the assault, her body pushing against his hands.

She writhed against the straps, and her feet were loosened. She kicked him back into the crowd and she freed her hands. Shaking, she managed to loosen the last strap around her shoulders and drop to the floor. Her body trembled from the pain and she tried to stand but her opened abdomen was too weak, and she fell onto the ground on all fours. The jostling of her body worked loose her organs which emerged slowly from the long incision in her body.

Ignoring all of that she tried to scurry away on her hands and knees. Behind her she heard laughing and hot tears streamed down her face. The wobble of her pathetic scurry worked loose her intestines which began to hang awkwardly beneath her, sending waves of agony through her body. The heat of her body was escaping through the opening, chilling the rest of her leaving her skin wet and clammy. Her muscles trembled, elbows shuddering violently. Her bowels finally spilled out, spreading out underneath her into a soft mound. She sobbed, and her body collapsed, falling onto the wet heap. She could feel it press against the sweaty skin of her stomach. Some wet tangles pressed themselves back into her while others worked into the crevices between her legs. A rope of wet entrails worked between her labia and rubbed against her clit. Her hip thrust, and she moaned. The pleasure of it eased her suffering, but it was cut short by a hand that clasped around the back of her neck and raised her into the air.

Her eyes met his and he offered a pleasant smile. “Good try my dear. You are commendable. However, my lesson isn’t over yet.”

He carried her back to the table and strapped her back in. As he tightened the strap across her shoulders he leaned in to her ear and whispered, “You can’t die until I say you can.” His breath was warm, and he nuzzled her ear softly before withdrawing.

“As you can see,” he said addressing the crowd, “She is completely unaware of her true situation. Her pain is real, her suffering, all real. Helpless to the illusion.”

Illusion? She had heard him, but she did not understand. What illusion? No illusion could cause this amount of pain. She began to cry again, the convulsion of it causing her intestines to bounce off of her body and tap against the end of her clit. They were drying, giving them a tacky quality which made them stick and pull mildly on her button as they swung away. Tap. Tap. Tap.

He looked at her and sighed, “Unfortunately while she gave us quite the show, she has made a mess of herself. I’m afraid I’ll have to give you all a separate demonstration of how the thin protein layers keep the digestive system in place. You can however see that the intestines are not merely one long tube independent of the rest of the internal organs. If one were to make a slit in the abdomen and attempt to pull them out as one long strand, one would find the organ is attached to other structures such as the spleen.”

She kept whimpering. It was humiliating being on display in such a fashion. How did she even end up here? She couldn’t recall anything after her time in her bedroom drawing. “Please,” she wheezed out, “Please let me go.”

He ignored her. “To remove the digestive system, you must separate the stomach from the esophagus like so,” his hands reached in and the scalpel sliced into her beneath her ribs. She felt the tear and again she inhaled a long and ragged breath of panic which let out as a low and mournful cry.

“It is close to the diaphragm, so be sure you don’t cut into it. Then you need to separate the large intestine from the colon.” His hands went lower, and she felt another rip from the blade. Her body spasmed again, and she screamed, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. The muscles in her lower region flexing and fluttering against the agony, working to find what had been removed.

“There may be a few more protein membranes to cut through, but most of it is free. You can find your way from here and…” a few more cuts later and her digestive system was a wad dangling from his fist. He handed the mess to the nearest spectator and they all took turns passing it about and examining it.

“That will be all for tonight. Please return so I can properly show you where the reproductive system sits within the lower abdomen. If you would be so kind as to leave the digestive system on the counter there, I would greatly appreciate it.”

One by one they left and in time the room was silent, leaving her alone with him. She sobbed, staring wide eyed down into the collapsed cavity of her abdomen. Blood had poured out of the long gash and trickled down her vulva, catching in the folds before working down her thighs and calves, collecting on the leather straps and rerouting the little red creeks on their path to the floor. It dripped steadily off her toes, pooling slowly on the floor beneath.

She was having a hard time breathing. She hadn’t realized how much she relied on her stomach muscles to breath. Furthermore, each attempt sent a wave of pain as the incision was tugged with each attempted breath.

The man turned to her and gently ran a hand down her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw. “Thank you for that my dear. Now you’ll have to go back though. It was fun while it lasted.”

She closed her eyes, feeling the blade at her throat. It stabbed deep into the left side of her neck and tore through opening her throat wide. He yanked her head back and she felt him crush against her, wrapping his mouth tightly against her throat. His right hand undid the straps that held her, and she fell against him, his arm wrapping around her back crushing her against his body.

Her warm blood poured out over her chest, running down her breasts and onto his white coat. Her eyes opened a moment and she saw that her vision was fading. The pain lessoned and for a moment all she could feel was her cold body pressed against his. He was warm. His mouth was warm. His tongue exploring the gash in her throat, tasting her life as it poured into his mouth, pushing against the edges and inserting into the space, exploring the exposed meat. This felt good. Her senses twisted, and she felt dizzy. Her eyes rolled back into her head and all went still.

A jolt and her vision returned in a burst of light and color. She was alive and sitting on her bed, hunched over a sketchbook. Her head shot up and she almost fell backwards over the edge of the bed, but her hand went out and gripped her comforter to keep her from falling back. She straightened and looked around, her lungs panting with the residual fear and adrenaline. Her head swung about, certain she would see him, but he wasn’t there. It was just her room, just as remembered.

She looked down at her sketchbook. It was an unfinished drawing of herself, lying splayed with a knife in her heart. Was it all just a dream? A dream brought on by her secret desires? It felt so real that her throat felt raspy and her stomach was tight. Her mind went over it again and again. It had felt so very real that she was unable to trust what she was seeing now.

Moments passed, and she calmed down, but her mind was still going over the events of what must have been a dream. She took in a deep breath and wrapped her arms around her waist. She wished she could have done that…wrap her arms around him during that last moment. A sob broke through. It had felt so real. He had felt so real.

Her hand reached up to touch her face where he had, retracing the path his fingers took down her cheek. “Who were you?” she whispered. She must be going mad. “Who were you?” Her sobbing broke into a full melt down. She threw herself onto the bed and buried her face in the pillow. If only it had all been real.

“Come back!”


Yo this is a great read, albeit too short to my taste. I can't pass up any vivisection or dissection stories.


Thank you!
I'm happy to say this is only the beginning. There is so much more to the tale. This chapter is just warming things up ;)


Ha! Next chapter. This one is a blend of things all involving knives :) I won't give too much away, but I do love organs so, expect some organ love.
I do appreciate comments, feedback, etc.
So, without further ado...the continuation of the tale of The Body Maker.

Chapter 2

His room had energetic lures hidden in its undercurrents so that the wandering souls of sleeping humans could stumble on his place more often. He would take them and place them into bodies he had made for “experimental” purposes. In truth he had gotten so good at making bodies on the astral, he hardly needed to experiment any longer. Each body was a work of art not only in its visual accuracy, but in its functionality.

This time though, the entity standing before him was very familiar. Much to his surprise, she had returned. The surprise not being in her seeking him out. After all, how many souls had he placed in one of his bodies and torn apart all at the whorish moans of his “victims”? Yes, he had found his fair share of humans that enjoyed his fetish, but very few had found him back.


He had once had a lover who incarnated on earth recently. She would be a young adult by now. He had searched for her, and while he had suspicions that some of the humans he had encountered could be her, he was unsure. Yet this one had found her way back. This was promising, but he couldn’t be sure yet. No. He would have to draw the memories out of her if that were the case, and there was only one way to do that.

He was paused over one of his projects, scalpel hanging mid-air. The body was of a slender red-head with pale skin and splashes of freckles across her face and chest. Her flaming hair a rippling corona around her peaceful, angular face. His gaze was on the soul though, a wavering mass of energy, pearlescent in color. She watched him, and he slowly placed his scalpel on the metal cart beside him. With one finger he traced the line of the incision in the body and it closed as he followed it to its end. The body looked pristine.

He walked to the soul and guided her to the table where he took hold of the entity and placed her in the body. The eyes and mouth opened, chest rising as the first full breath was sucked in. A look of terror crossed her face as her consciousness slowly awoke to her predicament. It always happened when a soul entered a body. All memory of anything previous tended to be fuzzy or just…gone. He grabbed the cuffs he had on each corner of the table and trapped her wrists and ankles in place before she could become aware enough to escape. As he finished he looked up and saw she was watching him. Green eyes watered with anxiety, but she wasn’t struggling much, not yet. Her limbs instinctually pulled on their restraints, testing their functionality.

“Who are you?” she choked out. Her fear was making her hoarse.

He smiled and walked closer to her face. He placed a finger on his lips, “Shhhhh,” it was soft, almost inaudible. He leaned down and brushed her lips lightly with his. Almost a kiss.

Then, hovering there he whispered, “Remember, you can’t die until I say you can.”

He straightened and removed his lab coat. He was wearing a black long sleeve button up shirt, and black pants. He undid his belt and left it on a table behind him. Then he removed his shoes, and unbuttoned his shirt. He could hear her anxious breathing.

He picked up the scalpel and went up to her left side. His fingers pressed gently on the skin just below her navel. Her stomach pulsed with her rapid breathing. He placed the tip of his scalpel to her skin and her stomach sucked in to try to avoid the blade. He had anticipated this, so once her belly had caved in as far as it could go he pressed down with his hand and made a small, shallow incision.

It was only an inch long, but that was enough for what he was planning. He dug at it with the scalpel, opening it with his fingers so he could see. He had to time each cut of the blade with her body’s protesting movements. The incision went deeper, but he didn’t want to go all the way through the abdominal wall. Not yet. He felt around carefully with his fingers, cutting then feeling, cutting again and feeling, until there was only a thin film of tissue left to the wall protecting the space where her organs lay nestled and warm.

He set the scalpel back onto the cart. She was doing well. She lay there with her teeth clenched and eyes opening and squeezing shut in intervals. She was trying to control the pain. He undid his pants and slid them off, not bothering to remove his shirt, then climbed onto the table, straddling her body on all fours. She slowed her rapid breathing into a long deep rhythm as her green eyes fixed wide-eyed onto his.

“What are you…what are…?” she tried to say, but his finger pressed on her lips.
“Shhhh…no words.” He gave her a smile and eased his hips down towards her stomach. The incision was not large enough for his member, but that was the point. He pressed the head against the opening and forced it through. Blood welled up and overflowed onto her belly, running down in red rivulets onto the table.

A scream started in her throat, then raised in volume as he pressed in until it burst out of her at full-force. He tried to twist her body and flip him off, but his left hand grasped her side and squeezed, pinning her down. He could feel the flesh tear around his member, opening and swallowing him slowly until he met the thin veil of tissue. Her body heaving against the intrusion, he waited, feeling each agonized undulation push her abdomen against him in a tantalizing rhythm. Then he forced through, that thin veil he left breaking so that he slid into her unhindered. Her scream hit another pitch and she began to sob vocally against it.

He moaned, feeling his penis move between the abdominal wall and her slick entrails. Her breath was harder and faster. She was trying to control the pain again as he slowly moved in and out of the cut, but she was unsuccessful.

He leaned in close to her face again and said, “Okay, calm down a little,” she didn’t but it was probably quite a bit to ask for, “breath slower. Breath with my movement.” Her chest rattled as she tried to control it. As he slid in slowly she tried taking in a slow breath, her lungs shaking with the effort. A few thrusts in and he could tell she was getting the hang of it. Her cries were more like low croaked ‘aahhh’s that rasped forth from deep in her throat. Her face was wet with tears, but it was relaxing more.

He let go of her side, planted his hand against the table for support, and let his other hand wander over her body. His fingers moving down her chest, then over her right breast. His thumb gently passing over her aroused nipple. She squeaked out a moan of pleasure, so he circled it with the end of his thumb before moving down her side and back up again. He sped up his rhythm, feeling protein membranes break from his movements so he readjusted himself so that he was well inside her intestines. They tangled around his head, sliding over it with each thrust. He moaned again, thrusting harder, each time pushing a cry, like a hiccup, out of her. Her hiccups broke into another sob and he thought he was going to orgasm, so he stopped. He wasn’t ready to be done with this, not yet.

He slid out gently, then sat back on her pubic mound as he picked up the scalpel again. She was staring off to her left, catching her breath. Her skin slick with sweat. He pressed the blade against the soft spot directly under her sternum, then made a quick, clean incision down to just an inch above her navel. Her fists and teeth clenched but she managed to hold still. She was getting the hang of it.

The next incision was “U” shaped, with the lowest point meeting with the bottom of the last cut, and the two highest points resting under her ribs. She held her breath, toes curling, voice straining, as he went over the incisions until she had two freed flaps of flesh. He lifted them up and held them against her chest, then added a cut at the base of each flap to help them stay out of his way so they wouldn’t keep springing back on him.

They still needed to be kept out of the way, so he reached back to the cart and grabbed two large T-pins. One flap was lifted, and the pin forced in place, then the other, each pin pushed between two ribs near the sternum. The process was unexpected for her and she fought to keep her composure, but the pain worked through her attempts at control and she shuddered.

This next part would be difficult. He looked down at her exposed stomach and liver, the intestines tucked in below winding their way down into the cavity where he couldn’t see them. There was blood from his earlier invasion pooling in the spaces between. It was the liver though that would be the problem. It was a very vascular organ, making it particularly sensitive, and it was in the way. There was nothing for it though, he would have to go for it and fight her. Not that he really minded.

He reached in under the base of her sternum and grabbed the smooth, delicate organ, pulling it down, tearing the tissues and fibers that were in his way. Her back arched and wave after wave of frantic screaming filled the room. After his hand made it past the liver, he pushed down on her spine to hold her in place while his other hand found her diaphragm. Her xiphoid process would be in his way though. So, he reached over to his cart again and grabbed his bone cutters.

They snapped through the lowest two ribs against the sternum, then, reaching for the bone saw, he removed the obstructive piece. Her screaming reached a fever pitch that almost matched the screech of the saw, but he wouldn’t allow her to pass out. He kept his energetic focus on her and made sure that the body didn’t give out, ending their session early.

After the bone was moved out of the way he went back to the diaphragm, taking his scalpel and making an incision in the central tendon right above where the esophagus poked through. The muscle spasmed at the assault. He withdrew his hands, and brought his hips forward, using his fingers to keep the liver and stomach out of the way. His member found the hole he had cut and pushed through.

The air in her lungs was forced out in a low, gasping exhale. He pushed, forcing his way between the lungs until he felt her heart pulsing against his head. He moaned at the rhythm beating against his manhood. His testicles rested gently on her smooth, wet liver as he let his hips rest in the opening he made for himself. He pulled the pins holding the flaps out and the flesh fell back against him.

Gently he pulled his hips back and the pull on the diaphragm forced air back into her lungs. He could feel the swelling organs hugging his member. The air traveled through it in a pained and rugged gasp. It was a horrid, low ‘aaaahhhhhh’ that vibrated her chest.

Again, he pushed forward until he felt her heartbeat and again he pulled back feeling the swell, each sensation unique to the other and just as intoxicating. He arched his back against the pleasure as he continued his slow back and forth motion, sometimes pausing to feel her heart throb violently against his head.

His hands wandered, caressing her breasts, pinching her nipples, and watching her eyes roll back at the symphony of pleasure and pain. Her jaw was shuddering, her teeth clacking from the trauma. His hands slid up and wrapped around her throat. They pressed down gently, lingering just a moment, just long enough to feel the muscles in her chest panic, sending a jostle through her lungs and to his penis. He shuddered and let go, letting his hands drift back down her breasts which were rising and falling to his motion.

The weight of him on her stomach was causing her esophagus to work as the stomach tried to empty its contents both out of agony and out of the pressure. He felt the muscles working, undulating to push what was inside up and out. This body hadn’t eaten though, so all she could retch up was bile. Her head flinging to the side as she vomited up the yellow fluid which spattered on the table like egg yolk.

The rocking of his hips was gaining momentum and once again he felt he may release, so he pulled out before he could, bringing his need that much closer to madness. As he pulled free of her chest the yank forced air into her lungs one last time. Then he reached in with one hand and with a touch of his finger the incision he made closed itself. He took the piece of bone he had removed and put it back in its place. The fractures stitched back together and the flesh around it healed, leaving the skin pristine once again.

He took from his cart a long thin, flat blade about six inches in length. Lifting himself from her he moved down and sat on her stomach, letting the flaps of muscle fall back in place. He took one breast in his hand and lined the long blade up with the tip of her nipple, then pressed it in. Her spine arched, and she cried out again as it sunk in. He twisted it to open the wound, then removed it to do the same to the other breast.

She was back in control of her pain now. He felt it in the calm that had settled over her. Just to be sure he reached back and touched her vulva. It was drenched with her need. As he suspected, she was very into this. He smiled at her, and to his delight she didn’t smile back but instead offered a pleading look. He traced his fingers along the incisions and they closed, releasing a disappointed moan from her. Then he reached up and undid the cuffs holding her hands in place. She was too weak to struggle much after anyhow.

Then he moved his legs under her hip, placing her in her lap and raising her up to him so that her breasts were even with his face. Blood leaked out of the holes he had made in her soft, pink nipples. He lifted her by the butt and lined her entrance up with his penis, letting her down gently. She moaned a long and trembling note. His right hand remained firmly in the square of her back to keep her upright leaving his left hand to wander. His lips gently kissed the front of her neck, then worked down, tenderly nuzzling her cleavage.

The blood that had poured from her breasts had pooled at the point where their hips were joined. He smiled at the sight of it and he began to thrust again. He moved his mouth to her breast and began to lick the wound. Then he took her nipple and pinched it between his lips, licking the tip with his tongue. She cried out and her hands clasped to either side of his head. His other hand stroked her other breast, teasing the nipple with his thumb and lifting the weight of it with his palm.

His mouth opened, and he took in her breast, sucking the blood out which filled his mouth. She screamed in pleasure and gripped his hair, holding his head in place. His thrusting increased in force and speed until the rhythm was fast and hard. Then he leaned forward and placed her back on the table. He reached for a drawer in the cart, not missing one beat, and pulled out a black-handled knife. Her eyes went wide for a moment, then he straightened his spine, still pounding into her, and slammed the knife into her chest.

She gasped again in pain and again as he pulled the knife out and thrust it again. The stabs coming down in no planned fashion, up and down, up and down, into her chest and stomach. Each time her body tightened from the jab, and each time her body tightened so did the muscles of her vagina. The rhythm of his blows matched the rhythm of his thrusts and each time he pulled the knife from her body blood spurted up out of her and onto him.

She was choking and coughing up blood which spattered out of her mouth and onto her face and neck. She reached up several times to stop the onslaught, but her limbs lost strength and fell to the table in awkward angles. Her hands, trembling, went to touch her wounded body, but the pain was too much so they fell to the table as well. Waves of pain and sickness caused her body to convulse, adding to his desire and the sensations between his legs.

The wild stabbing continued until finally he came. The knife lodged in her sternum, he gripped it with both hands, using it to pull himself forward. As he came, he released his energetic hold on her giving the body she was in permission to die. As his semen pulsed forth her false-life ebbed away as a rattle through her corpse.

Everything went still. Her soul was now back in her real body on earth, probably waking from what it perceived to be a bad dream. He was left alone in his lab, staring at the body she had left behind, its wide eyes staring blankly, mouth slack. She was beautiful. He leaned down and kissed her, amused at her unresponsiveness, almost tantalized by her unchanged expression after his own expression of love. He kissed her again, and drew her up to him, holding her bloody body against him, feeling the warmth leave her, and feeling her slack weight. He would see her again, he was sure of it.


No feedback? I'd like to hear from folks who have read it before writing another chapter. The next one will contain hard vore, but I'd still like feedback in case there`s anything I need to fix about the writing/presentation, etc.


Will, that's a nice ending. I kinda wanted to comment about exploring her mind, but it seems like you're getting to that, which is nice!


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 turned to his friend and offered a smile. Inside though he was furious. His friend had hit a touchy subject and it might well have ruined the mood for him, his mind already catching in a mental cycle.

His friend didn’t pick up on the withheld animosity. He lit up at the offered smile and said, “Let’s head up, then shall we? Or the spectators will get restless. No need to keep an audience waiting!” He sang that last sentence and pointed his finger into the air as he walked away.

He stayed behind for a moment, letting his gaze linger on her a while longer. She was still not entirely in the body, so she must still be falling asleep on earth. No matter, she was sure to settle in the body soon enough. His thoughts raced, and his mood darkened still from the matter of his failed incarnation. Not wasting another moment, he turned from her confused stare to follow his friend up to their seats in the royal box seat.


She was delirious and confused. Her mind wasn’t in synch with her sight but in time she caught on that she was in a cell with shackles around her wrists. The iron bars squealed and crunched open. A large figure loomed over her and picked her up by the shoulder. After a lot of blinking she saw it was a minotaur, huge and black. He didn’t look down at her as he pulled her to her feet and out the cell. She shook her head in disbelief as he led her down a corridor towards a large pair of doors. A throbbing, roaring sound was on the other side. A crowd?

He flung the doors open and she saw a wide, dirt space with a large ring in the middle from which a chain was attached. It was an arena with a clearing about two hundred feet in diameter. The people all around were chanting something, but she couldn’t tell. As she tried to get a good view of them she realized most of them did not look human. There were various humanoid forms, some animal, some utterly foreign to anything on earth. They all sat on stone benches around her, but above there seemed to be no ceiling, only blackness that encroached from above casting a shadow above everyone’s head.

Now she was aware. She was starting to put the pieces together and she looked around desperately. There in a private box, was the man. He sat in a throne of red and gold with one foot resting on one knee and looking down at her placidly. He was watching very carefully. His expression calm but his gaze fixed.

The minotaur removed her shackles, but his hand was on one of her wrists and she couldn’t struggle away. Without noticing her attempts at escape, he lifted the end of the long chain attached to the arena floor and clamped the metal cuff to her wrist, shutting it tight. Then he left.

She looked down at it, hoping to undo the latch, but there was no latch. It was solid as though it sealed itself by magic. She started to twist the chain, but it was so long the prospect of twisting it enough to break it would take too long and she was certain they wouldn’t give her enough time to finish breaking it.

Sure enough, a blonde man sitting next to the black-haired one stood up and with a booming voice said, “Ladies and Gentlemen! Beasts of all kinds! Good evening and welcome to tonight’s entertainment! Here before you we have our star! A fair maiden, helplessly chained to the arena floor.”

The crowd around her went wild.

“Open the gates!”

The door she came from opened again with a grind and the sound of snarling broke through the cacophony.

“Here we have our personal pack of well-trained hounds. These are indeed the same species which often haunt the woods in the wild hunt. These however have been bred specifically for your entertainment! Let the event begin!”

The crowd roared so loud she could barely hear the hounds. They were as large as mastiffs, black as a void, with massive, meaty heads. Their eyes were dark, and they watched her closely. She backed away, unsure of what to do at first, but then she looked down at the chain attached to her right hand. Her fingers wrapped around it and she flicked her wrist. The chain snapped and undulated. Perfect.

Their approach was slow, but as they got close enough she yanked the chain hard, swinging it up off the ground and smacking one across the face. It didn’t seem to phase the animal. The chain might as well have hit a brick wall. Her heart pounded in her chest as her adrenaline went up. The hound looked at the chain and snarled as his gaze drifted back to her. She tried backing up and that was when he lunged, the other four lunging right after.

She found her feet and booked it, but they were faster. The air knocked out of her as one of them smashed into her from behind, throwing her onto the ground. She tried rolling, but there were five of them and there was no escaping them all.

She felt a rush of pain as one of them clamped onto her shoulder and with a jerk threw her to the side, flipping her onto her back. She tried flipping over and crawling away but another one took hold of her ankle and bit hard as he yanked her towards him. She yelled, and the crowd cheered at the first sound of pain. Claws dug at her side, trying to flip her again. The claws were razored and as she jerked in reaction to the tearing pain she looked to see that they were sharpened and gleaming a metallic gleam in the dull light. They had torn deep and she tried to roll away, but a third one had clamped a wet maw onto her thigh, holding her in place.

She screamed in panic, trying to tear away, but the fourth hound was clamped on her shoulder again. It pulled, tearing through the skin and yanking at the sad excuse for clothing that she was wearing. Pain throbbed through her right shoulder and she tried to gouge the eyes out of that hound, but the one that had been ripping at her side took hold of that arm and violently thrashed, popping her shoulder out of place. A wail of agony left her. Terror had taken hold and waves of fear and pain pulsed through her from the places where their teeth had bitten into her limbs.

The one at her ankle moved up and grabbed the hem of her clothing, thrashing in an attempt to rip it off. The one at her shoulder did the same and the fifth one tore at it with his claws around her midsection. She was hoarse from screaming and tears streamed down her face which was contorted in agony. She barely noticed that she was calling for help.

Her face turned to see the body maker watching her. His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes wide. Any hint of a smile was long gone. He looked like Nero on his throne, a madness or a fury locked behind those eyes. She reached for him but he looked away and her chest heaved in a sob.

The dress was torn free, exposing her naked body. The tearing from the fifth hound had shredded her abdomen and torn loose her intestines. One of them was tearing at the meat of her inner thigh. His jaws tearing and working at the muscle with a thrashing motion that sent a wave through her body, popping all her joints and jostling her breasts painfully.

She felt a chunk of flesh rip away from the assaulted thigh. Meanwhile her right arm was being held down and torn into by the other hound. As the hound that tore a piece of her thigh off worked on his prize, another one tried to pull her towards him. The one at her shoulder growled and pulled back. The one at her left leg growled and tried to get a better grip on her thigh, clamping down on it, but as the flesh gave way he thought better of it and moved up between her legs where he had bone to dig his teeth into. Another wave of pain went through her as his teeth dug in. She could feel his wet tongue pressing against her crotch, moving and undulating with anticipation of the meal. The two battling hounds thrashed, loosening more organs.

One of the hounds decided there was no use in fighting and began to press his muzzle into her entrails, sniffing for his first bite. She could feel him digging around inside of her and she reached down to try to dig at his eyes, but the one at her shoulder released and clamped down on her throat. Panic rushed through again. Wide eyed and gasping she forgot the one at her abdomen and tried to pull at the one on her throat. The pressure mounting in her head.

The combined sensations of her throat being closed, her organs sifted through, and her vulva being rubbed by the wet tongue came together and mounted in waves with each thrash and each pull. Her body trembled from the trauma, and the motion of her breasts caught the attention of the hound working on her right arm. He clamped on her right breast and finally her orgasm blossomed. It was a wave of pleasure through the pain and she let out a ragged moan. The hound’s jaws clamped shut against it, cutting it short with a guttural choke. Her eyes rolled back, both with orgasm, and against the pain. Her tongue was forced out and blood pooled in her mouth, pouring out onto the dirt.

With a ragged exhale and a shudder her body relaxed, and she could no longer move. She could still feel though, trapped in her dead body. One hound continued to dig around and feast on her organs while another tore at and devoured her breasts. The one at her throat pulled and took her neck with one mouthful. Her head rolled lazily to the side, giving her a view of the body maker. He was looking in her direction but clearly, he had lost interest.

The one between her legs hadn’t ceased his thrashing, and finally her spine had broken in enough places that things loosened and with the help of the other hound at her leg, she was pulled apart. Despite the separation, she could still feel them chewing at her legs and pulled off the flesh around her pubic bone. The hound took what flesh he could in one bite, leaving the area in shreds. He worked on her backside from that position, pulling open a hole from where he started removing lower intestines and reproductive organs. His hunger was voracious, and he hardly savored his mouthful before digging at the wide hole where her vagina once was, pressing his muzzle, sniffing around for more. The invasion sent another wave of pleasure through her, but she no longer felt it in her body. Or at least, she wasn’t sure she did. The pain had certainly dulled significantly, but the pleasure was still there, like rolling waves as her body was eaten.
His attention shifted and with his nose he tried to flip her lower half over, so he could work on the large mounds of meat that were there. She didn’t have the largest hips, but they were round, and they were meaty.

The hound that had eaten off her chest was finished and worked at burrowing his face into her chest cavity, looking for more. The hound that had been at her throat clamped down on what was left of her neck and started to twist. After a few attempts the bone snapped and the cartilage tore, freeing her head from her body. The hound threw it aside and her vision was disrupted by the odd sensation of the world flipping around at odd angles.

All around the crowd was cheering. After her head had been removed the doors opened again and a few minotaurs came out. It was time to put the dogs away. She felt them being pulled from her one by one, then she felt the pieces of her body being picked up. Last was her head, which was lifted by the hair. Back through the doors they went and into a large cell where the hounds were kept. Her pieces were thrown to them and finally she blacked out.


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 moment. He wanted her to be the one very badly, and that’s why Devon suspected that she was probably the one. It had been a while since he had seen him this worked up.

He walked to the glass case. She lay there looking peaceful, her eyes closed and her hands folded across her chest, left over right. Why? Some things are better left a mystery, particularly when they are from the astral. He looked up to make sure his friend wasn’t watching, then he opened the lid and put his hand on her shoulder. “Wake up my dear. It’s safe for now.”

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up with light, amber colored eyes. There was fear in there, and heartbreak. Her chest began to swell as she took in a long breath, which she released in a sigh before sitting up. He helped her out and she thanked him.

“You were listening,” he said to break the silence.

She nodded, “But, I couldn’t hear very well. I’m still not sure what’s going on. When I’m here I can remember things from this world better than when I’m awake on earth. But when I’m awake on earth, I barely remember what happens here.”

“That’s normal.”

Her eyes rested on his and she waited.

“He does care about you, you know that, right? Out of all the other women here in his collection, you are most certainly his favorite.”

“For now.”

He tilted his head and offered a playful smirk. “You care about him.”

She nodded. “I do.”

“Why, because he bangs you just right?”

Her brows furrowed, and she looked away, her spine straightening with pride. “I don’t know why. Maybe because I see that apart from being a practiced sadist, he’s intelligent and he holds himself with dignity.”

She shot him a glare. “What’s your point?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t get your panties in a knot. He’s beautiful. He’s not human. It’s easy to fall for him, particularly as a human peering into this plane. It’s all a perfect mystery. Of course you’re crazy for him.”

A mischievous smile crawled across her lips. “You’re jealous.”

It was his turn for his eyes to darken. “Don’t push your luck sweetheart.”

Her expression fell, and she seemed lost in though. She was trying to put everything together. “If it isn’t real…if what I feel isn’t real, then it won’t last, it will end, and I won’t care. So, for now I will pursue this until it ends. At the very least it will be an interesting chapter in my life.”

“Ha!” he crossed his arms, “Good luck.” She didn’t move though, and his arms dropped again. She wanted to go out there, but she was afraid. He sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets, “You want me to escort you?”

He must not have worded it right she shot him a look and said, “I can do this myself.”

He shook his head and said, “No, I mean it, I can take you to him if you need me to. He’s in a mood.”

Her expression softened, and she nodded. “Yes please.” He walked to her and she took her place beside him. “Could you stay in the room too?”

He offered a comforting smile and nodded once, “As long as I know he will allow my dear. I would rather not be present should things get…physical. Makes me uncomfortable. I’m sure you understand.”

She nodded, and he opened the door. He went out first and after he was well into the large hall he bowed dramatically, announcing in a voice dripping with attitude, “My Lord, I have a lady here wishing audience with your majesty.”

She walked in right after, her hands pulling up on the skirt of her dress. The hall was large enough for eight golden columns to line each side of the black room. Marble topped tables stood between each column holding golden candelabras with lit white candles. Red drapes also served as a decoration for those walls. A red carpet stretched out from the doors to a blocky stone throne which sat squat and wide on the other end of the long room. Its flat grey appearance looking almost out of place were it not for the black of the stone walls and floor.

His back was to them, hands clasped behind him, and his head tilted up to gaze at another glass box displayed on the wall behind the throne. Within was the body of another woman posed like a divine being ascending with her arms to her sides and her palms facing forwards. Her head was tilted back, raven black hair cascading around her, and eyes closed in sleeping bliss. Her dress was black and gold, flowing in layers down to the floor. She had no idea what kept her there aside from a magic she didn’t understand.

‘That body must be her then,’ she had thought to herself. She was stunningly beautiful.

She walked towards him until she was only a few feet away and waited. The moment passed into awkwardness as she discovered she didn’t quite know what to say. He didn’t budge.

Her hands wrung, and her lips twitched as she tried to find words. Finally, she stuttered out a, “Won’t you speak to me?”

He turned and faced her. “What do you want?”

“I….” What did she want? “I…want to make you happy.” It sounded stupid, but she didn’t stop the words in time.

His eyes flicked up as he laughed, “Oh really? You and all the other girls my dear.”

The insult stung. “What did I do wrong?” She finally shouted. “That time on the table, the second time I saw you, you…”

“Yes, yes, we made love, it was magical. Didn’t it mean something? It must have, right?” his tone was mocking but his voice burst out of him afterwards saying, “That is the problem with you! You just take it! You take it all without a whimper of complaint!”

She startled and took a step back.

His left hand shot out and grabbed her by the throat, “You think it means something. Yes, your type always think it means something.” He head was tilted at an aggressive angle, his teeth bared, and his eyes widened. His thumb was pressing painfully into the skin just under the angle of her jaw. He started to lift her. Here eyes bulged, and her hands pulled at his wrist and fingers. “You want me to love you? Right?”

He pushed her back and her legs stumbled underneath her, but she couldn’t fall. He lifted her higher. His right arm swung out and knocked a candelabra off a table as he slammed her onto the white marble. “This is what you want right?” he growled through gritted teeth.

His palm was starting to press down on her throat. She kicked, but he was stronger. Her fist swung out and struck his jaw, but she might as well have hit stone. It felt unreal. His head didn’t shift in the slightest. His skin felt solid against the skin of her knuckles.

In a quick motion his hands took hold of the top of the corset and ripped the laces apart. Her bosom seemed to enlarge as the constricting item released its hold. She took another deep breath. Curling into a ball she tried to heave him off of her with her knees but once again he overpowered her, forcing her legs down to either side of him. His strength, unnatural. Fabric ripped as he clawed the front of her dress apart, exposing her breasts to him.

She looked around and sure enough Devon had left. A hiccupping sound jumped out of her like something between a laugh and a sob. Meanwhile he pulled up her skirt and tore off her underwear. It gave her the opportunity to try to push off him and over the back of the table, but he grabbed her by the waist with one hand as he undid his belt and pants with the other.

“This is what you want right?” he growled as he forced himself inside her. A blunt cry escaped her as he thrust hard. Blindly she tried to push him away. He caught her wrists and pinned them to either side of her head. He continued to thrust viciously, his rage driving him deep into her. Each time her clit was smashed, and it sent a wave of pain through her. Her breasts jumped painfully with every plunge.

Yet the violent motion was stimulating her internally and she tried to focus on that. A moan escaped as the pain in her clitoris began to evolve into a pleasure, but the sensation was interrupted as his fist struck her hard against her cheekbone. The pain was sharp at first, but a tingle akin to numbness spread giving her the impression the flesh was swelling until the impact site was pulsing with a dull ache. It had stunned her, but also awoke something in her.

Rage welled up inside, and he could feel it. His hands wrapped around her neck and he pushed down, and his rhythm increased. In a panic she tried to inhale but it wheezed as the air forced its way through the narrowed pipe and back out. Her eyes bulged, and her ears were filled with the dull roar of her pulse.

He watched with satisfaction as tears leaked from the corners of her reddening eyes. Her face turned red then quickly to purple. He could even see a blossom of tiny red pinpricks across her skin as the blood vessels burst. Her arms had dropped to the sides but moved in a slowed flail.

For her, the strangulation only heightened the sensations between her legs. She could feel her own sex swell with pleasure. Her rage was still alive within her, but she would have this. She would have this, then she would have her revenge.

Finally, the pressure burst and the orgasm broke, rushing through her like water in her flesh and fire in her nerves. It shot up her clit first, then scattered through her body. He felt it as her muscles constricted rhythmically around his own sex. It ignited his fury again, that she should take pleasure when he was trying to deliver pain, and in his left hand his black dagger materialized. With finality he brought it down into the center of her chest and her head flung back as a death cry heaved from her. With that it was his turn to come.

His spine arched as his own orgasm fountained up into his abdomen. His eyes closed against the force of it and his teeth gritted.

That was exactly the moment she had waited for though. She pulled the blade from her chest and in a fluid motion she buried it in his. His eyes shot open as a hiccup of air pushed out from the impact.

There was a sudden moment of stillness. He looked down at the blade then looked at her face. It was hard, and the hole in her chest was still there, leaking blood over her torso. Her hand was firm on the handle and she pushed him off her, standing as he stumbled back.

“No Ashre,” she said in a low voice.

He coughed up a mouthful of blood in surprise at hearing his name, a name he knew hadn’t been spoken around her.

She shook her head slowly. “No. That isn’t what I want.”

Her spine straightened and there was silence again, but she didn’t let go of the knife. Finding her strength, she pushed back until he was forced into his throne over one of the armrests. She straddled him and tilted his head back with her knuckle under his chin as he tried to keep himself propped up on his elbows.

The pain had left his face, replaced with awe. His eyes were that electric blue again that she loved so much. “Lilat?” he wheezed out. The knife was yanked out, inspiring more blood to come coughing out of him. She pulled his head back by the hair, drawing hip up to her, and kissed his blood-soaked lips, tasting his false life in full.

She pulled back, but did not release her grip on his hair. “Never, ever do that to me again.”

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