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Death Row Destiny

The years leading up to the passing of the Brooke-Strickland Act were filled with mass overpopulation, societal decay, and violent crime. In 2046, the year before the Act mandated the death sentence for even the smallest crime, the homicide rate in 7/10 major cities in the former United States was at record highs.

A little known add-on to the Act also extended the death penalty to minors. This would soon arouse extreme controversy when it would be utilized to hang a gang of street children accused of raping the daughter of a wealthy executive.

"Alright Merle, what do you have for us today?", Charlie yelled.
Charlie was the executioner that day. I was the photographer in charge of documenting this historic event. The first time anyone under the age of 18 had been put to death in almost a century.

"Just some street rats, Chuck!" the guard answered with a chuckle.
Charlie handed Merle a sheaf of paperwork. He turned to the prisoners, and winked. The kids didn't react, their senses having been dulled beforehand with a tranquilizer solution added to their last meal.

There were 5 of them.
Tom, age 13, a slender, almost feminine boy with long blonde hair tied into a pony tail.
Sara, age 16, a latina short stack with a glare permanently plastered on her face.
Luca, age 15, a string bean with curly brown hair and freckles.
Mika, age 12, the youngest in the group, tan skin contrasting with an explosion of pink hair cut short on her head.
Nate, age 17, sharp eyes and a buzzcut, biceps and legs toned from daily hard labor.
All were wearing the disposable jumpsuits given to death row inmates. They stood listlessly as Merle scribbled on the sheet of paper authorizing the transfer of the prisoners to the executioner.

"Alright, that's it then", Charlie said as Merle gave back the forms.
"Let's go, guys". He yanked on the chain, and the doomed children slowly shuffled forward to the execution chamber. The chamber was simply a large featureless room with a digital clock, and a series of drains embedded into the floor. Several HD cameras tracked the prisoners as they walked in. A specific request from the father of the raped girl, the execution would be streamed live to the world.

The prisoners stopped, their eyes wandering up to the gallows. Five nooses attached to a solid steel pipe attached to the ceiling. The trap doors each had an X painted on them, where the prisoners would stand. A standard long drop would snap their necks, ensuring a quick death.
Charlie prodded them forward, and they slowly ascended up the steps.
Each kid stepped in front of a noose, and Charlie began to slip a noose over each head, tightening them as he went.

The tranquilizer had begun to wear off by then, and the kids were slowly realizing that the rest of their lives were measured in minutes. Mika began to cry, and Luca started trembling. Sara just uttered a string of Spanish and English profanities as the noose around her neck was tightened, and Nate just bowed his head and whispered prayers. Tom desperately pleaded with Charlie, but the executioner had heard it all before.

"Alright, all done". Charlie turned to me and asked if I wanted to take one final set of portraits of the convicts. I nodded, and walked up the stairs. Each prisoner had a different expression as I took their photographs. Luca averted his eyes, Mika had finished crying and just faced the camera with a blank face, Tom had tears in his eyes but tried to present a brave face, Sara stuck her tongue out at me in one final act of childish rebellion, and Nate smiled sadly.

I finished, and walked back down the stairs to rejoin Charlie. He had taken a remote control from his pocket, and scrutinized the clock. "Five, four, three, two-"
all of the kids had closed their eyes tight by now "-one!"

Charlie pressed the button on the remote. The trap doors clattered open, sending five children to their demise. Five corpses twisted and swung, twitching spasmodically as their nervous system shut down.

Two guards walked in to assist in taking down the bodies. I photographed each corpse, marvelling at the grotesque contortions frozen on their faces. I asked Charlie what would happen to the bodies. "Well, no next of kin, so we usually just send them to the medical school next door for autopsy practice", he answered absentmindedly as he checked off the names on his list.


That was very entertaining! I'd love if you did one following one of the kids on that last day, a little longer. Great premise for some new stories


Thanks, I might consider doing one from the POV of one of the kids.


Willing to write some pussy shootings?



Tom sat on the bunk in his cell, staring at the cracks in the bare concrete floor. It was the morning of the 7th of October, the last Sunday morning he would ever experience. He had turned 13 yesterday, and in a cruel stunt the prison guards had decided to give him a birthday cake with a noose drawn in icing as his final meal.

His cake lay beside him, a couple bites halfheartedly taken out of it. The ticking of the clock seemed to match the rythmic thumping of his young heart. He took a swig from a plastic bottle of water and tapped his foot nervously.

It was 30 minutes before noon. Footsteps echoed down the hall outside, getting nearer and nearer before coming to a stop outside his cell door. Tom froze, not daring to look out towards the door.

A rough voice told him to stand up.
Tom slowly rose, his back to the door.
The voice told him to get undressed. Tom paused, unsure of what he had just heard. The voice repeated the demand, and Tom slipped off his jumpsuit. He heard the cell door open, and turned around.

To his surprise, he was face-to-face with an tall, attractive young woman dressed in a white coat, flanked by one of the guards. "I'm Dr. Serena Turner, I'll be your medical examiner today", she chirped cheerfully. Due to her height, Tom couldn't help but look directly at her chest. Her breasts strained at the material. He blushed, and looked up at her face.

Dr. Turner looked rather amused. "Looks like your little buddy is getting excited", she observed dryly. Tom hurriedly covered his budding erection with both hands. Despite his situation, Tom was just like any other healthy adolescent boy. His blush deepened, and Dr. Turner sighed. She walked over and grabbed Tom's hands. Before he could react, she bent over and kissed him on the mouth. Her tongue pushed through his lips and began exploring his mouth.

Tom widened his eyes, but he didn't resist. Serena's slender hands wandered down his chest and began groping his fully erect cock. Merle the guard just rolled his eyes. "Hey doc, there's no time for your games. We have a schedule to keep to!" he barked. "Alright alright, you damn party pooper" she pouted, and disengaged from Tom.

The boy looked sadly at her, his big blue puppy dog eyes pleading with her to finish what she had started. "Sorry kiddo, I'm not even supposed to get into the cell with you", Dr. Turner exhaled in regret "It's a real shame you're gonna be swinging from a noose in 5 minutes, you're pretty cute."

The mention of the noose brought Tom back to reality like a bucket of cold water. His penis went limp. He slumped back down on the bunk. She ruffled his hair, and with a flourish, signed the sheet of paper authorizing his execution. "The kid is fit and healthy, no sign of illness or injury" she remarked to Merle. "I could tell", Merle retorted. He entered the cell and bluntly told Tom to put his jumpsuit back on. Tom obediently got dressed again, and Merle slapped a pair of cuffs on the boy's wrists.

The rest of the gang were cuffed in the transfer room when Merle brought Tom in. He couldn't look any of them in the face. Merle shouted something at a thin looking man in a suit. The man laughed and said something back, but Tom heard nothing. The beating in his heart, the ticking of the clock, the tranquilizer injected into his cake, and the general fear of dying began to overwhelm him. He felt woozy, and stumbled a bit. Merle jabbed him in the ribs with his truncheon.

The thin man was joined by a mature looking woman holding a camera. She observed the convicts with a practiced neutrality.
The next few minutes were a blur to Tom as they were herded to the final room. He felt a blast of cool air wash over him as their executioner prodded them in. Then he saw the gallows and stopped in his tracks. The rest of his friends stopped as well. They silently looked at the instrument of their demise, mouths parted, eyes widening. The executioner prodded them again, and they resumed their final walk.

Tom ascended the stairway, his mind blank. His heart pounded, and his skin shone with sweat under the harsh glare of the lights. He focused attention on each individual step up the stairs. Then there were no more steps.

He looked up again, and saw his noose. His mouth was suddenly dry as the desert. He stepped forward until his feet lay over a large white X painted on the trapdoor. The rest of his gang followed his act, each standing on their own trapdoor. The executioner followed closely behind. Tom could feel the executioner behind him. The man stepped in front of Tom, and slipped the noose over Tom's head, gracefully tightening it with one practiced motion. "W-wait, please don't do this, I don't want this!", Tom's voice cracked.
The man moved on to Tom's friends, leaving Tom alone for his final thoughts.

The photographer lady walked up the steps, and began snapping photos of the other kids. She was attractive in a quiet, nerdy sort of way, and he tried to distract himself by imagining her curvacious body naked and embracing him. He felt tears well up as he realized that he would never lose his virginity.

Funny how that would be the one thing he regretted. It was Nate and Luca who had the bright idea to "have some fun" with the girl the gang had robbed. Tom, being the youngest boy, never got anywhere near. Now he never would know that pleasure.

His thoughts were broken by the sudden embrace of the photographer. Her large, soft breasts pressed against his chest, and he felt his cock begin to rise again. She looked up at him, her dark eyes drilling into Tom. "You remind me of my little brother", she whispered. Their eyes locked together, and she smiled. Tom blinked away the tears, and gave a shaky little smile back. She slowly walked backwards, and pulled out her camera. With a snap, her job was done, and she walked back down the stairs.

The executioner pulled out a remote, and looked at the clock on the wall. Tom closed his eyes. He began to imagine both Dr. Turner and the photographer hugging and embracing him, their soft feminine warmth covering his body. He had a hard-on, and he desperately wished there was something to rub it on.

The executioner began to count down and Tom clenched his fists and grit his teeth.

The executioner reached the end of his countdown and pressed the remote. The trapdoors opened. Tom felt weightless for half a second. A million memories, scents and shapes ran through his mind in that brief time. Images of violence and terror, some that was inflicted on him, others that he had inflicted. 13 short years of existence was played back at lightning speed.

Suddenly he saw white. Stars burst and lightning coursed through his eyes. Then everything went pitch black. No more sensations, no more sounds, no more sights. A faint memory of a maternal scent floated through his dying brain. Soon, even that disappeared.

Dr. Turner ran her hand over the chest of Tom's corpse. It was still warm. There was no heartbeat, and she dutifully checked his name off. She furtively looked around. Charlie and the photo lady had gone out to take a smoke break. The cameras were turned off. Serena smiled, and pulled the zipper down on the jumpsuit. Tom's penis popped out, stiff and covered in cum. "Kiddo, you've got a bad case of angel lust" she murmured to herself, and giggled. She heard a door open outside and she hurriedly stuffed the dead boy's erection back in his jumpsuit. She swiftly zipped the suit up just as Charlie opened the door to the execution chamber.

She would get to have her fun with the bodies when the prison transferred them to the school morgue.


that was adorable!! especially the second bit. I'd love to see something with Mika, I'm a sucker for both short hair on girls AND pink hair <3
Loving this!



Mika popped the last french fry into her mouth and chewed. In contrast to her fellow gang members, she had not lost her appetite in the face of her impending death. Indeed, she had demolished her last meal of cheeseburger, fries, and a 2L of Coke. She wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her jumpsuit, and reclined on her bed to rest. Suddenly, the door to her cell creaked open. A tall woman in a doctors coat, and a young guard entered the cell. The guard ordered Mika to undress for her medical examination.

Mika stood up, winked suggestively at the woman and unzipped her prison jumpsuit. She slowly opened it, until her flat chest was completely bared. Her breasts were just starting to grow, two tiny white mounds topped by two pink nipples. She continued, slowly stepping out of the crumpled suit until she was completely naked. Her body was two toned, arms and legs a dusky shade of brown, her torso milky white. Her body was lean and toned by years of dancing and running.

The guard simply stared, jaw agape. Dr. Serena Turner was unimpressed.

"No use trying to seduce me, you little whore" she muttered, as she walked over and gave the young girl a cool look. Stethoscope in hand, she monitored Mika's heartbeat. It thumped rythmically. No irregularities there. Dr. Turner knelt down and slipped on two latex gloves. Mika squeaked as the older woman slipped a finger into her vagina. "As expected, no intact hymen", Dr. Turner noted. With a wet sucking sound, she extracted her finger.

Standing up, the doctor opened Mika's mouth, and peered in. Mika's pink tongue trembled. Dr. Turner wondered how many dicks that tongue had wrapped around. She shuddered. The streets of the suburban wasteland around San Francisco were no place for a kid to grow up in.

She made one last note, and walked out of the cell. Suddenly, she heard a soft taptaptap, and felt thin arms wrap around her waist. Shocked, she turned around and looked down. Mika's emerald eyes looked back. "Miss, I really don't want to die", she whined pathetically. Dr. Turner firmly pushed her away. "Kid, there's nothing I can do for you. You will hang in 20 minutes, and that is pretty much it", she said softly.

The expression on the girl's face crumpled, and she began to cry. In a rare spark of kindness, Dr. Turner took pity, knelt down and gave Mika a hug. Mika held on to Dr. Turner tightly, and as the tranquilizer from her meal kicked in, her crying slowly wound down to sniffles. The guard cleared his throat, and offered Mika her jumpsuit back. The young girl slowly let go of Dr. Turner, and took the suit.

After Mika had finished dressing herself, the guard cuffed her wrists and led her out the cell towards the transfer room. The other kids were waiting there, each cuffed and flanked by a guard. Mika's guard glanced down at his young prisoner. Her youth, tragic background of forced prostitution by druggie parents and innocent demeanor had made her the darling of the trial. Unfortunately the girl Mika had helped rob and kill had a very powerful father. In the end, the 12 year old girl would swing from a noose alongside her compatriots.

The kids were handed off to a thin man named Charlie (accompanied by a lady photographer), and the group walked down the hallway to their final room. The door opened, and Mika felt a current of cool air rush over her face. The gallows loomed ominously, 5 nooses hanging from the steel bar attached to the ceiling.

Mika had a quick flashback to an early memory. Her mother had mentored young Mika on risky customers. Some of the riskier were those that had violent fetishes, Mom had warned her. Stay away from clients that liked asphyxiating and beating whores, Mom said. Mom had lost some good friends and coworkers from those jobs.

Now she would give one last dance performance for the riskiest of clients, the noose and the government. She giggled to herself, despite the situation at hand. Charlie came to her, and gently prodded her towards the stairs. She saw the rest of her friends walking up to the platform and she hurried to join them.

She bounced up the stairs, softly humming a melody from one of the old cartoons that would play on the TV's at the seedy motels she had lived in all her life. Charlie watched her, saddened at the prospect of snuffing out such a charming little girl.

She skipped her way to one of the remaining nooses, turned to Charlie, and flashed a big grin. "Well, what are ya waiting for mister?" she teased. Mika tilted her head up, presenting her slender neck to Charlie. The executioner wondered about the kinds of tranquilizers the government was using that would make someone so damn happy to be hanged. He slipped the noose over her head, and tightened it with one graceful motion.

Mika felt the noose slip over her head, and tighten around her throat. Unfortunately, the drug slipped into her burger wore off at precisely that moment.

The girl gasped in horror as she suddenly realized where she was. This was it. Her final moments. Her heart began beat harder and harder. She began to cry, from fear and from relief. Soon it would all end.

The lady photographer stood in front of her, camera raised. A flash of light briefly blinded Mika. The young girl quietly sobbed.

She heard the executioner walk past. She saw the executioner descend down the steps. The executioner reached into his pocket and retrieved a remote.

Mika began to shake.

The executioner began to count down out loud, his voice clear to the prisoners. Mika closed her eyes, and drew in a long lungful of air. The trapdoors clattered open.

Mika fell.

Perhaps it was her light weight. Perhaps it was a fault with the noose and the way it was positioned around her neck. But for some reason, when the noose snapped tight, Mika didn't die.

She felt agony. The noose crushed her windpipe and forced her head to tilt at an incredibly awkward angle.

She kicked her long slim legs. Her body twisted around, swinging as if it were a pendulum on a clock.

Mika's mouth stretched open and tongue straining forward, as if begging for one more gulp of oxygen.

She felt something warm and wet drip down the crotch of her pants and legs. "I've messed myself", she thought. Humiliation mixed in with her terror.

A minute passed, then two, then three and four. Mika finally expired, but her body still struggled. The occasional twitch stirred her still limbs, garbled signals sent from a dying brain.

Her jaw hung open with her swollen tongue limply drooping out the side of her mouth. A string of drool slowly descended from her lips until it met her chest.

Her emerald green eyes stared down at the floor, pupils dilated. The flash of the photographer's camera reflected in her unseeing eyes.

Dr. Turner ran her hand along the girl's chest. It was still warm, and Turner relished the sensation. She loved this part, examining a lump of meat that had been a living, breathing, thinking person a short few minutes ago. She slowly shifted her hand until it lay just above Mika's mons pubis. The woman swiftly slipped her gloved hand in, giving the dead vagina a quick rub.

The doctor felt dampness, and pulled her hand out. She gave it a sniff, and smelt urine. "Looks like you weren't taken to the toilet for one last piss. The least those guards could do for chrissakes!" She groaned.


very cute!



It was another hot summer day at the Youth Criminal Corrections Center. The warden had decided to schedule the daily execution outdoors on the baseball diamond. A crowd of kids in prison uniforms were sitting in the bleachers, sweating under the merciless California sun.

A lone figure flanked by two guards emerged from Death Row. The three slowly walked until they reached the center of the diamond.

The convict today was Billy Tamashita, a mixed race kid about 14 years of age. He had been stripped down to his underwear, his arms were restrained behind his back and his skin glistened with sweat from the heat. His messy black hair was cut short, so the executioner would not have any issues making a clean decapitation. The two guards holding him firmly by the arms stopped and forced him to kneel. His face was dark, with no sign of the terror he felt inside.

The warden was a tall blonde, a curvy bombshell of a woman. She was the crush of every boy jailed at the prison, and she knew it. She took a piece of paper out of her vest pocket. Her hand adjusted the lapel mic and she cleared her throat, the feedback ringing throughout the courtyard.

"Convict Number 35482, you are hereby sentenced to death by beheading" she announced. "Any last request?"
Billy looked down in thought, then up at the warden. "Yeah, could you give me a footjob? I've always wanted one from you, Miss", he requested shakily. His face turned red.

The warden paused, then smiled. "Sure thing, boy" she answered with a laugh. Without hesitation, she slipped out of her shoes. She leaned forward, and pulled Billy's underwear down until his dick sprang free.

It was already fully erect, and the Warden whistled. "Eager beaver, aren't we?" she giggled, and gracefully extended one foot until it touched the tip of the boy's penis. She began to rub up and down, and Billy closed his eyes, heart pounding. All too soon, he felt an orgasm coming. He opened his mouth, panting. With a grunt, he nutted. A long thick rope of cum burst from his cock, covering the Warden's foot. Billy leaned forward, gasping in post-orgasmic bliss.

The Warden took her foot off Billy's cock, and daintily took a tissue from her vest pocket to wipe off the cum. She whistled and a guard scurried forth, carrying a sword.

The Warden took the sword and gave it a few practice swings.

Billy opened his eyes, and saw the sword.

His eyes widened. He straightened his back. His arms strained at their restraints.

Billy's penis hardened again.

The Warden placed the sword at Billy's neck. The blade indented his skin and the young boy grimaced. One of the guards from before took a black cloth and tied it around Billy's eyes. The guard retreated.

The Warden took the blade away. Then, with a single elegant motion she sliced through the boy's neck. Billy stiffened. For a moment, he was still. Then, his head tumbled forward. It landed, then rolled forward. The Warden stopped it with her foot.

Billy's headless torso twitched. The neck stump sprayed two hot jets of blood, painting the dusty dirt of the baseball diamond red.
His corpse fell back and the jets of blood slowed to a trickle.

The warden picked up the head and took off the cloth.

She covered her hand with it, and held the boy's head by its stump. The Warden peered into the boy's unseeing eyes, and shivered. Just 30 seconds ago, there had been a sentient person behind those eyes. Now, there was nothing.


these are fun!


Bump to save from faggot spammer


Noose Sisters

The convicts to be executed today were Aki and Maya, two 17 year old schoolgirls who had murdered their boyfriends. The Warden watched in silence as two nooses were lowered in front of their faces. A guard looped them over their heads and firmly tightened them around their pale necks, eliciting a faint grunt from the taller of the two.

They could have passed for sisters, both being curvacious, busty young women with raven black hair and sharp eyes that seemed to penetrate. The two had been stripped naked, leaving nothing to the imagination.

The two had been best friends for 15 of their short 17 years of existence, and they had requested the prison to hang them together. The prison agreed, taking into account the increased profits from selling a double feature live execution.

The Warden walked up the gallows stairs, and stood in front of the two girls. Aki averted her eyes, biting her lower lip. Maya stood ram-rod straight, giving her best look of haughty coolness to the Warden. "Convicts number 87627 and 87628, you are hereby sentenced to death by hanging. Any last words or requests?", the Warden read off the sheet.

She leaned forward and listened. "Could you give me a hug?" Aki asked plaintively. Maya was more straightforward "Please finger me, give me one last good time efore I die, Miss Warden". The Warden nodded, folded the sheet up and tucked it into her vest pocket.

She walked up to Aki, and gave her a full, squeezing embrace. The Warden could feel Aki almost collapse into her arms, the young girl leaning forward into her hug as far as the noose and her restraints would allow.

The Warden's massive breasts squished against Aki's own, and Aki breathed in. The tall woman's perfume was the same brand Aki's mom used, and the teen began to cry in fear and grief.
"I'm sorry mom, I don't wanna die, oh god" she moaned. The Warden whispered soothing words of comfort, slowly rubbing Aki's head and rocking back and forth. Aki sniffled, and the Warden took a handkerchief from her pants pocket and wiped the teenagers face. The warden pulled away, and Aki looked down at her feet, mumbling a small thank you.

Maya looked straight at the Warden's face as the woman walked over. The two stared at each other, sharp and unyielding. Maya broke off her gaze first, and tilted her head down. The Warden smiled, and advanced forward. She went around Maya, admiring the teen's sculpted, fit body. The Warden pressed up against Maya's back. Maya tensed up, then relaxed.

The Warden began to vigorously stimulate the young girl's vagina, while simultaneously fondling Maya's large firm breasts. The teen couldn't remain stonefaced any longer. Maya began to moan in pleasure, eyes half lidded and hazy. Her nipples became hard little nubs, and she began to rythmically move her hips against the Warden's expert fingers.

Finally, Maya could bear it no longer. She closed her eyes and squirted, gasping and panting. The teen collapsed against The Warden for support. The Warden felt Maya's tight little cunt clench hard, and grinned. She extracted her fingers, and grabbed Maya by the hair.

The Warden came in for a french kiss, her tongue exploring Maya's mouth. Maya's tongue fought back, and the two women locked lips. For a brief moment, it was as if they had melted together, Maya's sweat drenched breasts rubbing up against the taller woman's. The wristwatch the Warden wore beeped.

The Warden pushed Maya away, the teen gasping as their mouths separated. The Warden looked regretfully at the teenager, who was still breathing heavily. Maya looked back with a crooked grin, and shook her head. "I guess times up, right?", she said, still grinning.

The Warden nodded. She turned and walked to the switch that would raise their nooses. She pressed it down. A beep came over the speakers.

Both nooses began raising their victims.

Maya grabbed one last lungful of air.

Aki gave out a surprised squeal, before being cut off with a gurgle as the noose squeezed on her throat.

The two girls were raised a meter off the ground before the nooses stopped. Both teens slowly turned in circles, long slim legs kicking. Youthful faces contorted into pain filled expressions.

Aki opened her mouth as wide as possible in a vain attempt to breathe, her tongue drooping out as if she could simply lap up another breath of oxygen. She twisted and contorted, her mind consumed with panic. Her eyes rolled up and her face slowly turned a sickly shade of purple.

Maya simply grit her teeth, trying to will her body into staying still.
Her hands tied behind her back clenched and relaxed, then clenched again. Her legs gave out graceful little kicks, feet pointed down as if she could regain her footing.

5 minutes passed.

Aki was nearly gone. Her legs had stopped kicking, and simply trembled. Her eyes stared at nothing, and drool hung down from her engorged tongue in thick strings. Her slender fingers twitched.

Fractured memories and emotions flitted through her dying mind.

Where was she.

Why did it hurt.



Where's mom.

I'm scared.



Aki's heart finally stopped beating. Her bladder relaxed, urine pitter-pattering on the floor.

Maya was too focused on her own imminent death to realize her best friend had finally expired. Back when she had still been a normal schoolgirl, she was the soccer club's best ace.

Her abdominal muscles could be seen rippling under her skin. Her thigh and leg muscles developed from years of running and kicking strained as they stretched themselves towards the ground.

She resisted the urge to kick and flap her legs, aware of how every single movement would only tighten the noose. Minutes passed, and despite her efforts, Maya was slowly succumbing. Her limbs screamed as lactic acid buildup burned.

The Warden checked her watch. Maya had just beaten the previous prison record for longest time alive on the noose.
The Warden whistled, impressed. Almost 20 minutes had passed since the hanging began.

Maya gave up. Her body began to shut down as oxygen starvation decimated her brain cells.

Blood dripped from her nose. Maya's eyes closed for the last time.

Her body relaxed, and piss ran down her toned legs. A final death rattle escaped her lungs.



My name is Ava Green, I'm 17 years old, and I will die today.
They stripped me naked for my execution, and I blush as I hear the crowd jeer and catcall. My beautiful long blonde hair has been cut boyishly short, to make it easier on the headsman.

"Tis a shame for a pretty young lass like you to lose your head", the executioner remarks. I smile wanly at him, then I kneel.

The guards flanking me grip my arms tightly. I bow my head, presenting my neck to the man.

I breathe in, seconds crawling by like minutes.

My heart pounds away like a jackhammer.

The sword slices down. The world tumbles around my vision. I see my body convulsing, my breasts swaying pendulously. Blood spurts out my neck stump. My vision rapidly grows dark.

The last thing I see is an erect penis. Out of habit, I open my mouth, my tongue outstretched. I feel the cock push in, then I feel nothing.

The guards take hold of the girl's arms and legs, and unceremoniously throw her corpse into a plywood casket. "Oy headsman, you done with that thing?" one yells. The headsman grunts as he comes inside the neck of the girl. He tosses the head over to the guard. The guard catches it, and gently closes the girl's terrified eyes. He lowers it into the casket, laying the head on top of her still chest.

The headsman sits down as another shivering young girl is brought before him. "I need a rest, they're workin me to the bloody bone" he grumbles.


Guillotine Rider

Timothy Lewis was a mere 14 years old when he was sentenced to death. He was to lose his head on a big ol' antique that the prison warden had dragged out of storage somewhere.

The guillotine had been prepped, its blade sharpened until it gleamed. Timothy had been stripped naked. His long and curly brown hair had been cut short. The boy shivered as he and the warden, a tall brunette woman, entered the chilly execution chamber. His breath fogged in the cold air.

The warden instructed him to lay down on the bench, face up. He did so, haltingly. His fine motor controls deserted him as he came face to face with the instrument of his demise. The lunette came down, and the warden locked it in place. Timothy breathed in, and exhaled. He looked up at the blade, looming ominously above his neck. Then, he felt slender hands grasp his penis.

"W-wha-?" he stuttered in surprise. He raised his head and saw the warden jerking him off. The hands expertly rubbed his cock, and he felt it grow hard and stiff. Then, he felt the hands run along his chest, and saw the warden warm and wet, envelope his penis in her pussy.

He moaned as the warden rode his young, virgin cock. He felt something stir in his loins, and he began to thrust his hips in rythm with the warden. He held his breath as his dick shot a thick sticky wad of cum into his executioner's insides. He exhaled, then laid his head back, panting. Timothy didn't even have time to bask in the afterglow of his first fuck, as the guillotine blade fell and neatly separated the boy's head from his neck.

His eyes widened. His head tumbled into the basket.

He looked up at the harsh lights, and he opened his mouth as if to say something. A look of confusion came over him as he silently mouthed an exclamation. He felt hands pick him up, and the world swung wildly.

The beheaded boy came face to face with the warden. Everything was growing darker. He felt warm, soft lips meet his. The taste of the warden's sweet lipstick and scent of her perfume entered his dying brain. Timothy gathered up all the strength he had left and opened his mouth. The warden french kissed him, her tongue wrapping around his. He weakly moved his tongue, but he was rapidly losing consciousness. The world went black.

The warden took off her pants, then her panties. This was her usual practice whenever she had to execute a handsome boy. It was her way of giving the young men one last good time. She grasped Timothy's cock, and began to jerk it up and down. Timothy's dick began to stiffen into an erection almost immediately. She stopped the handjob, then delicately swung her long legs over his body, and lowered her pelvis down until his erect cock entered her wet pussy. She rode him cowboy style, both hands on his chest. Timothy began to breathe harder and harder, and she could feel his hearbeat thunder away. With a gasp, she felt Timothy unload a hot blast of cum into her. She triggered the guillotine, and the blade came down.


Timothy's body spasmed. Every muscle seemed to tense up for a moment. Then his body relaxed.
The warden got off the dead boy, his cock limply falling from her vagina. She walked around to the front, and gathered Timothy's head from the basket. The boy was still conscious, although rapidly fading. His eyes darted around, and his mouth opened. The warden entered his mouth with her tongue. She tasted the salty iron tang of blood. The warden felt Timothy's tongue weakly rub against hers. She saw his eyes dull. His tongue relaxed. The warden knew Timothy Lewis was no more.


Oh these are cute!!


Damn. I kinda also want to make my own stories like these too!


You should!


Body Processing

Upon entering the facility, each convict was tattooed with a unique bar code and numeric ID, and was given a surgical implant in their neck.

Each convict's bar code was tied to their profile within the correctional facility network. This ensured positive ID of each body after every execution. The implant helped keep track of each prisoner's physical location within a 200 mile circumference of the prison, and also included a micro-explosive ring.

If any prisoner left the facility without prior authorization, the charge would detonate, cleanly severing the head of an escaping convict from their body.

One of the duties carried out by the young convicts at the Youth Criminal Corrections Center is the processing of bodies from the daily executions. Each day, a truck brought the corpses into the prison morgue, where the convicts would scan the barcodes on the bodies, marking each corpse with a body tag, before bagging them up and throwing them in the walk in freezer.

The bodies often went to medical schools for autopsy practice, or were bought by wealthy individuals for their own private aims. Rumors abounded about the former, including whispers of cannibalistic rituals performed by an elite cult. These were never substantiated, as semi-private institutions such as the YCCC kept their records out of the public eye.





The Guillotine

The Guillotine was old. Installed decades ago, it bore the marks of its years in service. The blade was brand new however, with not a single scratch on it. Its mirror like surface gleamed under the harsh sunlight.

The public slowly began to trickle in to the courtyard. Executions were a public affair in this nation, as it encouraged citizens to obey the law and provided an outlet for bloodlust.

Melanie was the first convict of the day scheduled to die under the Guillotine. At a mere 10 years old, she was one of the youngest prisoners on death row. She struggled as the guards forcefully restrained her slender body on the platform and locked her head under the lunette. Her curly orange hair had been cut short, giving her a boyish look. She uttered a string of curses, and spat at her guards. The warden placed one hand on the lever that would release the blade.

"Any last words, young lady?", he asked in a deep baritone.
"Go fuck yourself!" Melanie responded angrily, tears welling in her big green eyes. The warden sighed and yanked the lever back.

Melanie closed her eyes tight and clenched her teeth in terrified anticipation. She could hear the rope unwind as the blade fell towards her skinny neck. Her heart thundered in her ears.

The blade sliced through Melanie's neck. It continued down through skin, muscle, blood vessels and bone. With a thud the blade stopped as it came to rest against the wooden structure of the execution platform.

Melanie felt a sharp painful sensation. She suddenly stopped feeling anything below her neck. Her eyes opened wide. The world tumbled and tumbled before it came to a stop.

She stared up at the bright blue sky. A few drops of hot blood splattered against her face. The young girl opened her mouth in an attempt to speak, but no words would come.

The bright blue sky slowly grew dark and distant. She felt something pick her up and her view swung wildly. A distant thunder roared in her ears. She saw the crowd cheer and yell. Tears rolled down her freckled cheeks. The sights and sounds disappeared.

Melanie died.




Are you okay with others posting stories here?


Go ahead, amigo.



The body bag was dumped unceremoniously onto the processing table. Convict #9328492 (legal name: Carter Dubois) was in charge of tagging and IDing the bodies that day. He glumly zipped the bag open halfway, revealing the headless (prisoners executed by beheading had their heads treated and displayed in the warden's office) body of a young Caucasian male.

The corpse was fresh, the torso still slick with sweat and the blood had only just started to congeal. Carter laid a hand on the chest and felt tiny shivers. So fresh the heart was still trying to pump blood, he thought to himself.

Carter took the ID scan gun and swiped the laser across the barcode tattooed on the pelvis. The prisoner ID and photograph popped up on the screen of the scan gun, showing the gentle smile and soft round face of a boy still in the midst of childhood.
Carter gasped in shock, almost dropping the scan gun. He knew that face all too well.

Prisoner #5648573.
Legal Name: Josh Hampton
Age: 13
DoB: 2/6/2040
DoE: 1/17/2053
Gender: M
Ethnicity: Caucasian

Carter looked at the portrait again and felt a small twinge of something approaching pity. Josh was renowned amongst the boys at the YCCC for being one of the best at giving blowjobs. The boy would suck a convict off for pretty much anything ranging from extra bags of chips to packs of cigs.

Even Carter had used Josh for sexual release, and he remembered every moment of that session with guilty pleasure. Surely not something God, or Carter's heavily religious father would have liked to see. Then again, he had been extremely lonely and fapping to barely legible pinups stained and crumpled by decade of prisoners was beginning to get old.

The boy's sunny smile, shining eyes half covered by curly raven bangs, lightly tanned skin and slender yet firm body from a childhood spent outdoors were a stark contrast to the limp, pale lump of meat laid on the table. Carter surveyed the body, from the stump of neck, along the firm abs, down to the faint tuft of pubic hair just beginning to grow above the boy's genitals. He uttered a short prayer, then got back to work.

He checked off boxes on the processing sheet that came with each body. He whistled as he worked. A backwater juvie prison like the YCCC only executed 3 to 4 prisoners a week. Carter counted himself lucky that he was related to the local governor, he had escaped a potential death sentence and was serving 3 years by doing menial work around the facility. Today was an extra slow day, it seemed that Josh was the only one scheduled for that morning.

Finally, after the paperwork was completed and the convict ID was properly marked as "deceased", Carter had one last task to perform. Convicts were given the choice of being executed naked, or with underwear on. The vast majority chose to die with underwear on, and Josh had been no exception.

Carter unzipped the rest of the bag. He grabbed the elastic waistband on Josh's briefs and pulled them down to the boy's feet. Carter blushed as his hands brushed past the dead boy's limp penis, strings of cum dangling from the glans. It was apparent that Josh had experienced one last nut before expiring. Probably that damn warden, Carter thought. That lady found some kind of sick pleasure from fucking convicts on death row.

Carter threw the briefs into a laundry basket. Prison clothes were always recycled. Those briefs had been used by hundreds of boys before Josh, and would most likely be used by hundreds of boys after.

Carter rinsed his hands off, went back to the dead boy and pulled the zipper up on the body bag. He took a sharpie and marked the bag. Then with a grunt, he slung the bag over his shoulder and walked into the mortuary freezer. A pile of body bags lay in the corner, and Josh was tossed on top. Carter closed the door behind him. He didn't mind body processing, it sure was better than doing road maintenance and janitorial duties.



The clock ticked over. There was now exactly one hour left in Josh Hampton's life. The boy lay on his prison bunk bed, curled up in a fetal position.

It had only seemed like yesterday when the judge had knocked his gavel and announced Josh's death sentence in a stern voice. The boy could remember every crease and line on his mom's face crumple into an anguished expression. Steve, his stepfather holding her in a tight embrace, making sure she wouldn't fall to the floor.

He had run out of options. There was no way out of it. He would never grow up like his schoolmates. Josh would never graduate highschool, never marry, never have his own children. An entire life ahead of him and it was already over before it could truly begin.

His parents had fought for him in the courts, even after the sentence was passed. Appeal after appeal, yet the courts remained unyielding. Despite the passage of the Brooke-Strickland act a decade ago, society still remained divided on the issue of capital punishment for minors. In one hour, it would not matter to young Josh Hampton.

He had spent his last few months reading books from the prison library in his cell, playing games on the ancient arcades in the recreation room, sitting in his cell and sexually servicing his fellow inmates for various favors and snacks.
It had all gone by in a blur.

The clock ticked. It was now 30 minutes until his date with the guillotine. He twisted and turned on the bunkbed, feeling cold sweat pour down his body. He heard the door to his cell swing open, and a blast of cool air wafted in. Josh sat up and looked towards the door.

Two guards walked in. The taller one told him in a cold tone to undress. Josh dutifully took off his t-shirt and shorts. He began to pull down his briefs, but the shorter guard interrupted him. "You have the choice to die naked, or die with your underwear on", he rumbled. Josh pulled his briefs back up. The two flanked him. The taller one procured a set of cuffs and restrained Josh's arms behind him. Josh gave the cuffs a tug, not expecting any results. The cuffs held strong to no surprise.

The guards pushed him out of his cell and walked him down the corridor leading to the courtyard outside. He emerged from the prison block and shivered as the cold January air scraped across his skin. His bare feet stepped across frozen concrete and small piles of slushy snow. Josh's breath fogged in the winter air. He concentrated his attention on the ground as his guards half pushed, half dragged him to the guillotine.

The walking stopped, and Josh slowly lifted his head. The guillotine here was old, probably older than the prison itself. Josh felt his heart race. In 20 minutes, Josh's 13 year old heart would pump fresh hot blood across that centuries old wood, his life liquid joining the stains left by the fear filled pumping hearts of countless other boys.

The guards grabbed hold of his arms, and firmly pushed him onto the platform. Josh lifted his legs up and laid back, his head facing towards the heavens. The guards locked the lunette in place and tied his legs and chest down with leather restraints.

He heard a familiar female voice.
The warden had a reputation for being efficient, which is why the administrators overlooked her more sexually deviant habits. Josh had heard stories from the other convicts about her. She would give male death row convicts on the gallows or guillotine a handjob, or a blowjob, or even full on sex. She once managed to hang 34 boys in a single morning with that routine. There were rumors of even higher numbers. The warden had a room in her office filled with the preserved heads of prisoners she had taken a liking to. Now she was here, at his own execution.

She walked over to the guillotine and knelt down, her head directly looking down at his face. "Prisoner #5648573, you're pretty cute", she whispered. "T-thanks" he mumbled, his cheeks turning red. Josh felt a hand touch his leg. The hand crept up, smoothly slipping under his briefs before gently grasping his penis. Josh felt his cock stiffen almost immediately. "Ma'am-" he started, but the warden pressed one slender finger against his lips. "Shush, boy" she commanded, as she began to rub his foreskin up and down rythmically.

The boy began to breathe heavily, and the warden pinched his erect nipples. Josh squeaked in surprise, and soon began to moan. The warden expertly pumped his erect dick and with half a minute left to spare, Josh finally blew his load. The young boy gasped in pleasure as his baby batter covered the warden's hand and the crotch of his briefs. With a sigh, the warden withdrew her hand.
Her other hand grasped the lever operating the guillotine. Josh's eyes flew wide open. "Wait, wait don't do-" his voice cracked.

The warden yanked the lever back, releasing the blade.

It fell, neatly cutting through Josh's neck. His head tumbled into the basket while his body arched its back, arms and legs straining in mindless panic. Twin jets of blood spurted from his neck stump, painting the snow and concrete with splatters of red. A pool of blood began to grow and drip under the boy's body.

The warden leaned down and gracefully picked up the head out of the basket. Josh had already expired, his once bright blue eyes were now dull and unseeing. His soft lips were half parted, frozen in the middle of pleading for his life. The warden motioned to a guard and handed the head to him. "I'm keeping this one", she said with a smile. The other guards were already tipping the headless corpse into a bag for processing.

The cold winter clouds parted, sun soon shining down on the prison. Another execution had passed and another young soul had been sent away to eternity. There would be many more to come tomorrow.


Gallows 1

They waited, tense and anxious. 100 teen girls, not a single one older than 15, all nude and noosed and standing on milk crates. Each girl had a number painted on her chest. Members of the public were invited to gamble on which would last the longest.
The funds generated from the bets would go towards prison upkeep, of course.

The clock ticked over. The milk crates were pulled out from under their feet. 100 bodies twisted and flexed in mid-air. They kicked and strained towards any kind of foothold, and many girls wrapped their legs around each other in a vain attempt to buy a short gulp of air.

The first to expire were the heavyset girls, followed by the skinny, soft weaklings. They shuddered, eyes rolling up, tongues swollen and portruding. The last to die were the athletic types, their abs and chests shiny with sweat as they fought against the inevitable.

30 minutes had passed before the last girl finally let go, a final death rattle escaping her lungs, eyes half lidded. 100 corpses swung in the wind.


Gallows 2

The next day, the gallows were set up again.
100 nooses swung in the wind, waiting.

Slowly, the prisoners emerged from the building. A long, shambling line of teenage boys shuffled towards the gallows. Most were in their early teens, and all were naked, save for form fitting underwear.

Prisoner #5221204 (legal name: Sean Bellwood, age 14, gender: male) is one of those 100 boys scheduled to hang until death. Sean's normally shoulder length dirty blonde hair had been cut short the day before. He is in the middle of the group as they march single file towards their deaths. His heart beats rapidly, increasing as the group ascends the stairs of the platform.

Each boy is told to stop in front of a noose. Their hands are restrained behind their back, their legs are kept free. Then, the warden shows up. Despite their situation, most of the convicts strain to get a glimpse of the woman. She smiles at each boy, ruffling heads, whispering comforting words in anxious young ears before slipping the noose over their heads and tightning them around their necks. She walks along the platform, greeting each boy and repeating the actions. She stops in front of Sean.

"Good mornin', Prisoner 5221204" she greets him with her characteristic drawl.

Sean looks at her.
"I've got a name, you know", he finally answers.
"No ya don't, you're just another dumb meatsack I gotta deal with", the warden replies. "But hell, you're a cute one, so I might as well call you Sean". She places one slender hand on his ass, and he blushes. "No doubt you've heard the rumors about me", the warden talks while she runs her hands over Sean's abdomen and chest. Sean stays silent as the warden's hands grab the waistband of his government issued briefs and pulls them down to his knees.

Sean's penis pops up, already semi-erect. The warden's hands run over the shaft, up to the tip of the glans. She gets right up to it, and begins licking with her tongue."I've got a thing for playing around with my prisoners, but I make up for it in efficiency. My personal record is 200 executions in a single afternoon" she mumbles around the teenager's penis. Sean's mouth hangs open, breathing heavily, heart pounding as she expertly rubs up and down with her tongue. He clenches his eyes shut and nuts all over the warden's face. She doesn't skip a beat, and licks up the cum from his cock and her face. She gulps, and smiles. "Thanks for playin' along, Sean".

Sean is wobbly kneed, his mind still pleasantly blank from the blowjob. He almost doesn't register the noose tight around his neck. The warden moves along, prepping the rest of the boys for hanging.

Finally, the time has come. The boys are all tense and anxious. Sweat drips on their brows and chests, and their eyes look down, not daring to look at the executioner. A lever is pulled, and each boy is suddenly left treading air. Sean twists in the air as the hanging begins. His legs, sculpted from years of playing baseball, curl up to his chest. His arms strain and hands clench and unclench. The noose digs into Sean's neck, cutting off bloodflow and oxygen. His face slowly turns a deep pink and his tongue sticks out of his mouth. Sean's eyes roll up. He finally dies, 8 minutes after the execution began.

All along the platform, boys slowly turn into pale corpses. Their legs no longer kick with vigour, but just twitch and shudder. Young hearts slow down, before finally stopping. A large number of the teens experience angel lust, their cocks hardening and ejaculating, even as they die. Bladders relax, bowels void themselves.

Prisoner #7736487 (legal name: Andrew Wachowski, age 13, gender: male) is the last to expire, the wiry pale body relaxing as its owner passes away.

20 minutes after the start, all 100 prisoners are dead. The warden walked back up the stairs and surveyed the gallows. There was an eerie stillness to the scene. She walked along the platform, and stopped in front of Prisoner 5221204. Sean's face was strangely relaxed and calm looking, despite his violent end. She looked down, and grunted. Somehow, she wasn't surprised that Sean also had the stiffest death erection amongst the group. The warden raised a hand and felt it. It really was rock hard. A string of cum oozed from the head. "Looks like you were ready for round two", she muttered to herself.


Secret Weapon Testing

The teenage boy is roughly shoved into the small concrete chamber. With a thunderous ka- CLANG, the metal door slammed shut behind him. Timothy Bradley, age 14, Prisoner #894436 shivered in the cold air.

"The fuck is this place?", the red haired lad muttered to himself as he looked around, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest. The guards had stripped him naked before locking him in the room, leaving him exposed to the icy winter air. Snow wafted in and piled underneath a small open window covered by iron bars. There were unidentifiable stains on the cracked and chipped concrete floor.

Suddenly, he heard the door swing open, then close. He twirled around and ran up to the door, banging on it.
"Get me the fuck out of here you bastards", he yelled in frustration.
"At least get me my-yEOUCH!" he exclaimed as he doubled over in pain. Timothy looked down and saw a gash on his stomach. Blood dripped down onto the floor. He turned around and saw a young girl standing by herself in the middle of the room.

"Did you do this?" he asked, anger creeping into his voice. The girl remained silent, just staring at him with a blank expression.
Timothy walked toward her, snarling "Listen, you little brat, I'm gonna tea-". Before he could finish his threat, Timothy's body abruptly broke apart into bloody chunks. His internal organs splashed onto the floor, his intestines, kidneys, stomach and lungs steaming in the cold winter air. His head floated in the air, spinal column dangling from his neck stump. Timothy's jaw dropped and his emerald green eyes darting around, wide in horror. The little girl poked around Timothy's body chunks, finding little of interest. She had killed over a hundred prisoners just like this one by now, and had gotten quite efficient at it.

The little girl walked past the floating head, and with her loss of interest, the head dropped to the floor. It bounced once and rolled until it nudged up against the boy's dismembered chest.
Timothy's eyes dulled as he died, still in shock.

"Good job, Tina! Here's a gold star!", the lead scientist congratulated the little girl. The girl looked up at the scientist and beamed, basking in the attention. "Now, next week we'll start getting you to do multiple targets at once. Do well, and we'll get you some nice cake for desserts". Tina smiled happily, and hugged the scientist.



YCCC Youth Correctional Facility #645, Palmdale, FL.

Since the passage of the Brooke-Strickland act, there have been: 287,523 executions carried out at youth correctional facilities such as ours.

Our current population is: 12,645

Of those prisoners:
50% are under the age of 11
40% are 12-14
10% are 15-18

Of those prisoners:
30% are female
70% are male

On average, facility #645 will carry out: 200 executions a month

Our current Warden has overseen: 769 executions

Days since last employee injury: 67


Maybe there should be more female prisoners


Body Processing 2

Jackson rolled the cart towards the execution chamber. He pushed the cart through the swinging doors and entered the room.
He took a brief glance at the schedule sheet, and sighed. Three females beheaded this morning. Their bodies were neatly lined up in the center of the room, arms and legs tucked in. Their heads were nowhere to be seen.

Jackson walked forward, knelt down, and picked up the first corpse. This one looked quite young, with chocolate colored skin, a flat chest, slim waist, slender legs and arms, and completely bald pubic mound. The body was still quite warm and loose. Rigor mortis hadn't set in yet. He lifted the corpse up, and dumped her carelessly onto the cart. Blood trickled from the young girl's neck stump.

Jackson turned back, knelt again, and picked up the second body.
This one was older, and as Jackson grunted in exertion, quite heavier. Her large breasts sagged as Jackson lifted her. He squeezed her warm and soft flesh. He leaned his face forward and took a good sniff. The scent of lavender perfume, sweat, and blood filled his nose. Jackson dumped the corpse next to the little girl. The woman's legs parted, revealing a curly black bush.

Jackson picked up the last corpse. This one looked like it belonged to a girl who liked sports. Brown skin, like the others, but with firmly defined abs, muscular arms and legs that looked like they could crush a watermelon in between them. Smaller breasts than the previous body, but still perky and firm. A small, neatly trimmed patch of pubic hair crowned her pussy. He swung the body over, and laid it down on top of the other two corpses. Jackson grabbed the handlebars and with a grunt, he wheeled the cart out of the room.

Carter looked up as Jackson pushed the cart into the morgue.
"Fresh batch for ya!", the man yelled. Carter nodded, and went to the desk to retrieve the scan gun. Jackson turned around and left without saying another word, which suited Carter just fine.
Carter picked the first body up and lifted it to the table.
He swiped the scanner over the ID code tattoo on the body's pelvis.
The ID came up.

Prisoner #6656989
Legal Name: Alicia Richardson
Age: 16
DoB: 8/13/2037
DoE: 2/7/2053
Gender: F
Ethnicity: Mixed race (Hispanic mother, white father)

The photo revealed a serious faced teen girl, dark brown eyes flashing with intelligence, her curly hair cut short.

He picked the headless corpse up and laid it down into a body bag, sealing it closed.
Carter turned to the next corpse and lifted it, grunting. This one was tall and curvy. He laid it down on the table and scanned the code.

Prisoner #6656990
Legal Name: Francesca Richardson
Age: 43
DoB: 9/5/2010
DoE: 2/7/2053
Gender: F
Ethnicity: Hispanic

The photo loaded, revealing a smiling MILF, her expression radiating with happiness. Curly brown locks cascaded down her face, obscuring one half.

Carter loaded Francesca into another body bag, zipped it shut and wiped his forehead. "Heavy bitch aren't ya?" he muttered. He turned and picked up the last body. Nice and light. He preferred handling the kids, they didn't weigh so much. Carter moved the girl's hands to her sides, and swiped the scan gun over her pelvis. With an electronic beep, the prison ID came up.

Prisoner #6656991
Legal Name: Susan Richardson
Age: 10
DoB: 2/6/2043
DoE: 2/7/2053
Gender: F
Ethnicity: Mixed race (Hispanic mother, white father)

Carter felt a pang of pity. The kid only turned 10 yesterday, and today she was dead. He quickly mouthed a prayer, and picked up her corpse. He laid it down into a body bag and zipped it up.

He wiped his hands on his jumpsuit, and began checking the paperwork. Only 2 more years of this, and he'd be free.


My advise: every female executed should piss (even shit) herself as her bodily function.


Ava stands, her hands tightly bound behind her, at the scaffold steps to the guillotine. Her once long hair has been cut and then tied into a loose bun. ”Next!” She hears the executioner’s voice bark out to his assistants as the headless body of the guillotine’s last victim is tossed into the cart, her head already decorating the end of a pike. Her only crime had been the same as Ava’s, being born into a noble family. The assistants escort the young noblewoman up the steps, strap her tightly to the bascule, and lower her into position. Ava shivers nervously as the lunette locks down around her slender neck, leaving her looking down into the bloodstained wicker basket. She brings herself to look up at the audience to her demise. Where she looked for sympathy to her fate, she only saw jeering and hatred. She looks down again to hide her flush of embarrassment. A noise above indicates that the blade has reached its highest point. Ava’s breath freezes in her lungs. This is it. Another noise, the air itself being cut by death’s angled scythe. She gasps. An instant later she’s laying on her left cheek in the basket. All the sensation that she once felt below her neck vanishes, replaced by a pull on her scalp. Ava stares forward as she’s shown off to the crowd, her expression resembling either surprise or just the natural loss of muscle control that comes with beheading. In the corner of her vision, she sees her body being carried and tossed off the edge of the scaffold. A sharp pain erupts from her throat and her view starts to rise as well as darken. Her senses fade, the view and cheers of the crowd dull. She hears one thing clearly as everything disappears. “Next!”


Oops I just noticed op already had a story withah an Ava character



Satsuki fidgeted with her glasses as she sat in her cell bed. A slender young girl of 11 years, her dark brown hair was cut short as per prison regulations. She was dressed in a baggy orange prison jumpsuit about a size too large with her prison ID number (7665490) printed on its back. The girl vibrated with nervous energy, her hazel eyes darting around. She wiped her brow, sweat pouring down her face. It was the middle of August, and the humid heat penetrated deep into the prison complex.

She flinched as footsteps echoed past her cell. Today was no ordinary day. She was scheduled to hang today. No time was given, but she guessed that it would take place at noon.
Satsuki looked up at the clock and gulped, her mouth dry. It was five minutes to twelve o'clock.

Footsteps again, but this time they stopped outside her cell. The clatter of the door opening made Satsuki squeak in terror. Two burly guards entered and grabbed the little girl by the arms. They restrained her with handcuffs and roughly led her outside. As they walked down the corridor towards the gallows, Satsuki struggled against the handcuffs.

The guards opened the door leading to the courtyard containing the gallows. Satsuki tried in vain to dig her heels into the ground. "Please, I'm too young to die, I'm sorry for stealing, please don't kill me", the girl tearfully begged to the guards. They ignored her and continued dragging Satsuki with them.

The gallows was a simple T frame made of metal pipe, embedded into a concrete square with two drainage pipes. There were five of them scattered around the courtyard, each capable of hanging two prisoners at a time. That day, two units were occupied, four other girls dangling limply from their nooses. Satsuki averted her eyes from the slowly swinging corpses.

Satsuki was led to an empty unit. A stool was placed in front of her. A freshly tied noose was thrown around her neck, then connected to the gallows frame. The guards lifted her trembling body up onto the stool, then tightened the noose around her neck.

The warden arrived, holding a tablet computer.
Clearing her throat, she began to read Satsuki's sentence.
"Prisoner #7665490, you are hereby sentenced to death by hanging. You have one minute to speak your last words, or engage in prayer". The warden put away the tablet, and checked her watch. Satsuki moaned in fear, her legs trembling. "I-I want my mom!" she whined pitifully. The Warden shook her head. "Sorry sweetie, we can't do that." She told the little girl.

The minute passed. The warden walked over to Satsuki, and gripped the stool. The young girl closed her eyes, tears welling in her eyes. With a grunt, the warden pulled the stool away. Satsuki dropped 3 feet then jerked to a stop as the rope reached its limit. She slowly swung in a circle as her slender legs kicked furiously. The noose dug into her soft neck, causing the 11 year old to grit her teeth tightly. Her hands formed tight fists as Satsuki experienced pain beyond anything she had felt in her short life.

After two minutes she stopped kicking. Her feet arched down, toes straining to find a foothold on something. The little girl's face turned red, then purple as she experienced oxygen starvation. Her tongue poked out between her lips as the noose slowly tightened further, sinking deeper into her neck. Saliva and snot mixed with tears, and slowly oozed down in strings. Her bladder relaxed, releasing a stream of piss from the crotch down on her prison jumpsuit. She felt a faint sense of shame as the world darkened around her.

Five more minutes passed before Satsuki Kawashima Antonelli passed away aged 11 years and 3 months. The prison kept her corpse hanging for an hour before cutting it down and sending it to be processed in the morgue.


Loving these stories. Thank you for them!


Gallows Flowers

There were ten girls sentenced to hang that day.
Nooses draped loosely around their necks, their faces tense and nervous. They fidgeted anxiously as they waited to die.
Rich walked down the platform, checking each one off on the list.

Angie, 13 years old. Petty robbery.
Marina, 11 years old. Prostitution.
Lin, 16 years old. Assaulted a police officer.
Mari, 14 years old. Blasphemy against the Church.
Michelle, 12 years old. Public indecency.
Samantha, 13 years old. Public intoxication.
Olivia, 15 years old. Assault with a deadly weapon.
Amanda, 17 years old. Prostitution.
Beatrix, 17 years old. Armed robbery.
Rachel, 12 years old. Prostitution.

Each girl was dressed in stained tank tops and shorts. All of them had their hair cut short in order for the noose to catch their necks properly. They had been blindfolded, as was customary for young prisoners. Rich had to give it to them, not one girl begged for her life. Their trembling and heavy breathing gave away their terror, but they still had enough backbone to not waste oxygen pleading with him.

Rich finished the checklist and signaled to the hangman. The hangman nodded, and yanked the lever back. All ten girls screamed for an instant as the platform opened up, dropping them about six feet. Ten ropes yanked tight, and ten young necks were broken instantly. A sense of satisfaction came over Rich as he surveyed those ten dangling bodies. It was a point of pride to him that he killed prisoners in the quickest, most painless way possible.


bump this great thread for the new site!


VR Training

"Hello, Recruit Jackson", the computer program intoned in a calming female voice. "Today, we'll go over your duties as a correctional services officer. Many new recruits understandably feel quite squeamish about their job, but we'll try and fix that". I looked around the virtual space. A featureless grey concrete room with 2 rows of fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling.

Three people spawned in front of me.
Two were young girls who looked no older than 12, the other was an older boy, who was about 14. "I've spawned three simulated prisoners of the age range that your duty posting will deal with." The computer spoke again. "To your right is a standard issue tool of the trade. It is up to you to kill your prisoners".

A table flashed into existence to my right. On it was a rifle. I walked over and picked it up. The haptic feedback system of the VR sim made it feel like I was picking up a real gun, complete with the heft and coolness of metal.
I turned around and walked towards the prisoners.
All three were wearing bright orange prison jumpsuits, their hands were cuffed behind their backs, and their feet were cuffed and attached to rings embedded into the floor. I looked at the girl to the left, who glared at me through her unkempt blonde bangs.

The computer spoke again. "Lindsey Washington, prisoner number 4635528. Sentenced to death for blackmail." I pull back the bolt handle slightly, and the yellow gleam of a brass case shone back at me. I push the bolt forward, flick the safety off and point it at Lindsey. "Kneel", I state in my best commanding voice. She spits at me. "Fuck you", she growls. "Some prisoners may not be cooperative", the computer says soothingly. "The correctional services officer may then use more forceful methods to induce cooperation."


Lindsey doubles over, gasping in pain.
I grab her by her hair and wrench her face up to look at me. "Kneel" I say, and bring my fist up again. She flinches, and gets down on her knees.
I look over, and the other two prisoners slowly kneel as well. I unsling my rifle and aim it at Lindsey's face. No longer defiant, she averts her eyes. Tears roll down her cheeks as she breathes in her last lungful of air. I squeeze the trigger and the thunder of the rifle shot fills the room. Lindsey's head rocks back, a cavernous crater splitting apart her forehead. Her corpse falls back limply. Blood pools around her head, like a crimson halo. I kneel and place a finger on her neck. No pulse.

I stand up and walk over to the next girl. "Mira Gomez, prisoner number 6556417. Sentenced to death for prostitution." The computer stated. "H-hey mister, you want some fun times? I can show you some f-fun times, you don't need to shoot me eh?" Desperate words poured out of the tanned little girl like a fountain. "You know I can suck d-dick real good, I was the best." Mira opens her mouth, stretching out her tongue seductively. "Some prisoners may offer to perform sexual services in order to save themselves. Please note that while it is not recommended, there are no official regulations against having sexual contact with prisoners. However, attempting to free a prisoner is a class 1 felony and will lead to immediate termination and a lengthy prison sentence" the computer continued.

Mira's eyes follow the rifle as I slowly place the tip of the barrel on her outstretched tongue. The young girl licks it suggestively, her big brown eyes flicking back and forth from the rifle to me. I can almost taste the fear radiating from her. "Close your eyes", I command.
She hesitates, her eyes welling up with tears. "Now".
Mira closes her eyes tightly. I work the bolt, flinging the empty casing from Lindsey's execution out of the chamber and pulling in a fresh round. Mira's teeth clatter around the barrel in terror. She sobs, the reality of her incoming death crashing down on her.


The girl falls back, a startled expression frozen on her face. Mira's head hits the concrete floor, blood and bits of brain splattering around her. The young girl spasms, her skinny legs twitching as her fatally damaged brain sends out confused signals. After half a minute, her eyes roll up and her body slackens.

I look over at the last prisoner. The boy looks at the corpse of Mira. His face radiated horror. "Carlos Vasquez, prisoner number 7349822. Sentenced to death for rape." I work the bolt action once more, the empty casing flying out. Unlike the two girls, Carlos just hangs his head. "Make it quick, please", he mumbles.
I walk around and jam the muzzle of the rifle against the back of his head. He flinches. I smell something acrid, and look down. A puddle of urine is growing around Carlos' legs. "Gross", I think to myself. I pull the trigger. The boy's head flies forward, before his body slumps and falls face down on the floor. I roll his corpse over. Carlos' face is a bloody mess, badly torn up.

"Congratulations, Recruit Jackson. You've passed the simulation with flying colors." The computer stated, sounding the closest its ever gotten to excited.
Two buttons flashed up on my HUD, one saying "Exit" and the other saying "Restart". I reach out and press "Exit". Perhaps I should get one of these for my home.


Field Execution

The boy struggled as the two soldiers manhandled him towards the pit. In a few minutes, he would become another statistic in the ever increasing numbers in the charts documenting this little bush war in the middle of nowhere.

His name was Rio Vargas. He was 13, that tender age between child and man. His body was wiry, stringy almost. His face still retained the softness of baby fat, and his hair was a mess of black curls. His skin was an even chocolate brown, from daily exposure to the sun.

That morning, he had been helping his grandfather move bags of flour from the truck to their house. Then the militia came, and accused grandfather of hiding supplies for the rebels. They did not specify which rebel group. They began to beat grandfather viciously.

Rio tried to drag them off, but they quickly turned their attention to him. They overpowered him and began to beat him mercilessly. You must be a rebel, they told him. Rio struggled to breathe, battered as he was. You know what we do to little rebel rats like you? The soldiers taunted him as they dragged him onto their truck. Grandfather lay motionless in the dirt as the soldiers drove off. The soldiers continued to play with him. Y'know, for a boy you sure look pretty. Pretty boy of the village, are you? I bet you suck a mean dick, boy. Hey, how about you suck our dicks? We aint had a woman in months, a pretty kid like you will have to do.

They forced him down. Bite us, and we'll skin you alive and make your parents watch. He opened his mouth, accepting the large unwashed cock of a soldier. Rio coughed and gagged, and the soldier slapped him. Suck, boy. Rio bobbed his head up and down, trying his best to wrap his tongue around the head of the penis. The constant bouncing of the truck as it drove over unpaved dirt roads complicated his efforts. The soldier grunted, and Rio tasted the salty bitterness of hot cum jet into his mouth. For the next hour, he serviced all 4 soldiers, taking cock in every conceivable hole.

The rape ceased as the truck drove into the militia camp. The soldiers cleaned themselves up, and dragged Rio out of the truck. Hey commandant, we found ourselves a little rat. What do you want us to do with him? The commandant looked a little annoyed. Didn't I tell you guys to go scare up some villagers for food? The commandant turned back to his maps. Kill him, I don't care. Rio's heart began to pound.
W-wait, I'm not a rebel! Please, you have to believe me! Rio screamed desperately. One of the soldiers punched him in the stomach. Rio doubled over, and two of the soldiers grabbed him by the arms and firmly pushed him towards a large pit. As Rio got closer, he saw the horrifying contents inside.
Twisted, blackened bodies and skeletons. Lord preserve me, he thought hysterically. Oh lord help me.

The soldiers reached the edge of the pit, and forced the boy to his knees. Rio was beginning to hyperventilate. He flinched as the muzzle of a handgun was placed against his head. The soldiers laughed as Rio's bladder emptied into his shorts. Please, don't do this, he pleaded. Please do-.
The soldier fired a single round into the back of Rio's head. The boy was killed instantly, the .45 ACP JHP mushrooming and causing immense and immediate trauma to the brain. The soldiers relaxed their grip, letting the boy fall limply into the pit. Job well done, they congratulated each other. Now, there's always more rebels to hunt.





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"Holly McDaniel, you are hereby sentenced to death. May the lord have mercy on your soul", the guard droned in a bored tone. "NOOOOO, PLEASE!" the girl screamed.

Gemma turned away, wincing as she heard the scraping sound of the guillotine blade dropping. The screams of the young girl strapped in increased in pitch before being cut off by the thud of razor sharp steel sliding through flesh and bone. Gemma looked back, and saw the twitching headless body of the girl get dropped into a black body bag.

Her heart rate increased. It was her turn now.

At 18, Gemma was one of the older girls at the facility. Due to her rebel parents, she had spent her childhood training for the eventual uprising against the repressive government forces. Unfortunately, the government had a mole in the rebels, and captured her and her family. Gemma's parents had already been executed, and today she would join them.

The guard assigned to her tugged the chain, and she got up off the bench. She noted the way the guards eyes wandered over her body with a slight shiver of disgust. Gemma had an athletic lifestyle, and her body showed it. Her legs and arms were well muscled, her stomach firm, with a slight hint of a 6 pack rippling underneath her taught young skin, tanned brown from years spent outdoors. The prison had cut her strawberry blonde hair short, the de rigueur for those sentenced to the guillotine.

"Alright, girl. Get on the board, lay on your back", the guard ordered curtly. Gemma complied, grimacing as she felt something sticky and wet smear on her back. The girl laid her head back and the guard shut the lunette over her neck. Gemma stared up at the blade and shivered. Soon, her life would be over. She couldn't really wrap her mind around it.

The guard walked over to the blade release lever. "Gemma Andrews, you are hereby sentenced to death. May the lord have mercy on your soul".

Gemma shut her eyes tight, gritting her teeth. 18 years of memories and regrets flashed through her mind. The sound of the blade falling was drowned out by the sound of her heart hammering away in terror. A sharp pain cut across her neck, then sudden numbness. She felt a falling sensation, and opened her eyes. The world spun around and around before fading to black.

The guard watched the girl's body twist and turn, its large firm breasts jiggling as her muscles flexed and relaxed mindlessly. Blood sprayed out of the neck stump, pooling underneath the corpse. The acrid scent of urine wafted up as Gemma's bladder relaxed. "Active one, aren't you?" he muttered as the board angled itself, dumping Gemma's corpse into a fresh black bag. He walked around to the head basket and peered inside. Gemma's head peered up at him, her golden eyes dull and half lidded. Her soft lips were open, a rivulet of blood dripping from her pert nose.


Just outta curiosity was was the Brooke-Strickland Act, and what happened that made such a law the norm?


In summary, the Brooke-Strickland Act enabled the state to expedite convictions of criminals faster, with fewer opportunities to appeal, and with much harsher penalties for crime of any nature. In particular, it meant that minors would be tried and convicted just like adults. This was in response to a massive crime wave that took place over two decades during the 2030's and 40's, during the periods of unrest following the financial collapse of nations across globe caused by the effects of sea level rise, political instability from AI spin off technology, and massive move towards heavy automation. After the destabilization caused by the chaos, western nations elected much more authoritarian governments.


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Self Checkout

Prison ID: 9972104
Name: Edward Montaigne
Gender: Male
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown
Height: 5'3"
Weight: 105lbs

"Officer Williams, guard ID JW19990402, I'm here with prisoner #2972104", the female guard spoke into the voice activated release lock. There was a heavy clunk, then the LED turned green. The guard turned to the young prisoner and pushed him inside the small room. In the center was a large blue device that resembled a photocopier with a lunette and guillotine attached to it. The prisoner stopped. "A Schmidt AG2400, the newest and best", the guard laughed. "This thing'll do everything fer ya".

The ashen faced teenager walked around the machine. He slowly ran a finger over the blade. It was still wet with the blood from the previous prisoners. With the guard watching, the boy lowered his head into the receptacle, his right hand fumbling for the activation button. The lunette locked itself over his neck. The touch of cool metal on his skin made him flinch. The boy took a deep breath and closed his eyes. With his heart pounding, he pressed the button.

In an instant, the blade sliced through his neck, clean. The body crumpled to the floor, blood spraying like a fountain from the severed neck stump. The automated guillotine caught the severed head mid-tumble, its robotic arms swinging the grisly payload around to the guard. Edward's final expression was one of mild shock. Officer Williams took out the pocket ID device and pried open one of the boy's half lidded eyes, the gadget scanning the iris. With a bleep, it sent confirmation of prisoner death to the prison network.

Officer Williams casually tossed the boy's head into the waste disposal basket. The guard walked over to the headless body and knelt beside it. She grabbed the corpse by its feet and dragged it over to the body pile. It joined four others from that day.


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The Donor

The prisoner cleared his throat.
"Andrew Cullen".
The prison physician scribbled on his notepad.
More scratching.
"Alright, physical examination time".
The doc snapped a pair of rubber gloves on and grabbed a small flashlight. "Open your mouth." Andrew complied, and the doc shone the light while pushing one gloved hand into Andrew's mouth. The doc withdrew the hand and wiped it with a moist towelette.

He continued examining Andrew. Shining a light in his eyes, taking a blood sample with a needle, and a urinary sample. Andrew hesitated at the last one, until the doctor gestured at the heavyset guard standing by the door. The implication was not lost, and the boy blushed as he pulled his baggy orange prison sweatpants down, relieving himself into a small plastic beaker. The doctor observed and recorded it all, his expression never wavering.

"A very healthy specimen, no history of disease, no record of injury", the doctor stated. Elizabeth nodded, her brows furrowed. "Same blood type as your daughter, roughly the same age, same ethnicity and upbringing", he continued, flipping through the file. "It's just…he's so young", she whispered. She looked at the photo again. The boy in it looked back, his eyes dark and filled with anger and fear.
"Ma'am, he made his choice. He'll be dead by the end of the week. Its up to you to decide whether that death will help your daughter", the doctor murmured. Elizabeth looked up and smiled sadly. "I guess you're right", she said. Her pen streaked across the page. The doctor smiled as well, although it was for a different reason. He had a contract with various health insurance providers that gave him a generous stipend each time he provided healthy organs to one of their customers. Andrew would add up to well over a million dollars as his organs would be spread across 10 different benefactors.

The week passed. Sunday came. The execution was scheduled early in the morning. The guards came with breakfast (porridge spiked with tranquilizers to induce docility). Andrew forced a few spoonfuls into his mouth, all appetite having deserted him hours before. The drugs worked quickly, letting the guards strip the prison uniform off of Andrew without much protest. They restrained his arms and legs. There was a look of tired resignation to Andrew's expression. "Hellow, Andrew!", the doctor greeted him with a chipper tone. Andrew couldn't muster the energy to reply back.

The prison administration had multiple methods of execution, some designed to leave as much of the body "pristine". In Andrew's case, they decided to use the garotte. The guards dragged the lethargic boy to the post and sat him down on the seat. They tied leather straps down across his chest, pelvis, and thighs, then placed a black hood over his head. The wire was loosened, then placed across his neck. One of the guards walked around to the back of the post, where the controls were located. The wire was attached to a motor which would tighten the garotte until the prisoner was dead.

With a nod from the prison doc, the guard activated the garotte, and the execution began. A sharp intake of breath could be heard from Andrew as he felt the wire sink into his neck, then a choked gargle. Almost immediately, the boy began to squirm. The motor whirred, undeterred by the resistance of flesh. Blood began to course down Andrew's heaving chest as the wire cut into his neck. A minute passed, and still Andrew fought against death. His feet drummed against the post, and his hands flexed. The doctor noted with some amusement the erection Andrew sported. Common enough on the adolescent boys who met their untimely end by asphyxiation or the noose. The doctor was lost in thought when he heard a final wet sigh, and looked up to see the boy's hooded head drooping forward. This was a crucial moment, as the prison needed to harvest the organs at their most freshest.

The guards loosened the restraints and dragged the corpse over to a table, where a medical autopsy robot shifted its spider-like limbs, cold steel gleaming under the harsh lighting of the execution chamber. Multiple medical saws whined as they sliced open skin and muscle, and the robot efficiently retrieved the heart, lungs, pancreas, liver, stomach, kidney, intestines, and eyes. It deposited each into an ice filled cold storage container.

One month later:

Elizabeth smiled as her daughter shot out of the hospital bed and rushed to hug her. Within her daughter beat the heart of that young prisoner. She gave silent thanks as she picked her child up and pecked her on the cheek.


Firing Squad

From my position in the watchtower, I could see the back door to the Juvenile Correctional and Disciplinary Center open, and quickly shoved the remainder of my cheeseburger down my throat before I tossed the wrapper to the ground. An alert on my phone informed me that three executions were to be carried out at this time, so I stood at attention and addressed the members of my squad below me.

“Alright troops! Break’s over, we have a few executions on the way!”

Several troops groaned as they tossed aside unfinished food, while a few hastily shoved what they could into their pockets, before grabbing their rifles.

Three girls walked through the doors, each one flanked by armed guards, and down a gravel path between the trees. I couldn’t make out enough details to determine their age, although only two wore the normal orange jumpsuit, while the other seemed to be completely naked. I climbed down the tower and waited. Three minutes later they arrived into the large clearing that serves as the Termination Field.

“Stand here and face front,” one of the guards directed. The prisoners stood, each four meters from the other, in front of a large hole, five meters wide and nearly 4500 meters deep, surrounded by a concrete wall a mere 600 centimeters tall—originally drilled for a deep underground nuclear test before the government changed its’ mind, and eventually repurposed this area into a prison for underage criminals.

While the firing squad prepped I quickly read their file.

Convicted of robbery and homicide.

Jessica O’Connor, 11, red hair, green eyes. Her body was a little more developed for her age, and, with the perky buds poking through her top, she could easily be thirteen.

Amanda Nguyen, 11, Vietnamese-American, black hair, brown eyes. She was the only one who really looked like a kid; small figure and flat chested. She almost looked graceful with her long hair flowing in the breeze, and, knowing she tried to help a killer escape, I felt a twinge of guilt. Should’ve picked better friends, sweetie. Maybe better luck in the next life.

Amy O’Connor, 16, red hair, green eyes. Without knowing her last name I could still tell that she was related to Jessica; the matching bushy red hair to her mid-back was a dead give away. She was also completely nude, confirming what I thought earlier. Later I would learn that she repeatedly removed her uniform, and eventually ripped it to shreds. Apparently she was a nudist, and the facility has a strict policy of one uniform per prisoner; any damaged or destroyed do not get replaced. She was also the only standing completely calm, whereas Jessica and Amanda continuously sobbed where they stood.

I put the phone in my pocket and grabbed my rifle before standing in the center of the line.

“Ready! Aim!”

A light gasp escaped the Asian’s lips and her body tensed up as thirty-six rifles aimed at her in unison.


Three-dozen bullets ripped through Amanda’s torso. A torrent of blood and organ tissue coated the dirt and wall behind her, as her petite body crumpled to the dirt, twitching in a crimson pool. As piss and shit stained her pants, we pivoted our weapons towards the next prisoner.

“Ready! Aim! Fire!”

Jessica’s sobbing ceased and the kid joined her friend; twitching on the ground while soaking in her own blood.

Through it all, Amy looked out at us with an attempt at a glare on her round, girlish, face. Her eyes narrowed and her chest puffed out, as if daring us to try, when I repeated the order.

“Fire!” I yelled.

Her round tits flailed and rippled as bullets shredded them. Amy fell back into her blood, a vacant glare pointed at the sky and trickles of blood flowing from her mouth. Her thighs clenched slightly as she pissed and shit on the ground, pooling with the steadily growing puddle of blood.

As per government policy, I drew my pistol and walked towards the girls, starting with Jessica. With a kick of my boot, I kicked her over onto her back and placed a bullet in the center of her forehead. Movef on and repeated the procedure with Amanda, and then Amy. Then I ordered three of my men to toss the bodies into the hole, to join the hundreds of corpses from previous executions. We returned to our more mundane duties until the next prisoners were brought out.


bump! love this thread

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