/lit/ - Literature

My foreword:

In this Russian story, a 16 year old girl named Nastya is chained up naked in an oven and cooked for three hours, then consumed by her family and family friends. Her young friend Arina, attending, is to be cooked in two months.

I don't think this was published as erotica, but it's erotic throughout and you can tell the author is into guro.

No need to thank me for manually adding in all those italics 😏





Nastya (2000) by Vladimir Sorokin
Translated from Russian by Max Lawton

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

I went out in a little floral minidress with no panties or bra.

Later I listened in confusion to the wet thrust of his cock between the lobes of my brain, pushing in and out through a hole he had cut at the back of my skull. The lights of the club had been blue, green, and pink. The dancers had swirled like currents of water. Tides of darkness had swept them all away.

"Mmh… Gguhh…"

"Shhh, sweet girl" he held my head between his hands. With his thumbs he stroked my tear-stained, freckled cheeks.

"Nnblohhh…"

"I know, sweetie."

My bladder released, I was like a scared child, sitting at the dinner table when father raised his voice, listening to the wet sound at the back of my head.

His deep voice murmured. "Probably ain't what you wanted to happen when you went out in that cute little dress."
Post too long. Click here to view the full text.

Chapter 1: Toilet at first sight
Chapter Text

One final warning, this written work acts as if such acts are Good and should be encouraged, when it ISN'T, seperate fantasy from reality now, or LEAVE.

(Camera fades into the scene, revealing a tall nude attractive man, fading in on his cute ass cheeks, then going up until the camera rotates to show his attractive face)

Kevin Coleman was a strong and muscular dude of 22 years, and like most dudes who spend a little too much time at the gym, he was a bit of a dick. Actually calling him a dick was a bit of an understatement. He had a fixed goal of what he wanted out of life, and didn't care about who he had to screw over to get what he wanted. But in all reality, was that really a wrong thing? Taking the initiative and getting what you want out of life is how our earliest human ancestors survived.

Kevin was also both tall and handsome, at 6:2, he had to duck to get under certain doorways. He had a rather nicely defined ass for a dude, with just the right amount of buttcheek on either side to bury ones face in, his dick was about 3 inches with soft, and 7 1/2 when erect, but it was its thickness that he was proud of at almost 2 1/3rd inches wide when erect, he could literally choke a bitch. His teeth had the slightest hint of coffee stains, but usually were well kept. His brown hair and green eyes had a rugged charm to them, especially when combined with his neatly trimmed full beard. He was also quite the charmer, if you could call having beer breath and being covered in oil after a night of working on a motorcycle charming, he never did drugs, but rather spent almost all of his money on porn, pictures of porn, sextoys and explicit videos, which almost all of that went to his best friend Jennifer, the lesbian.

Ah Jennifer… she was… a rather special woman. She met Kevin when he was 12 and she was 10, they held absolutely NO secrets from each other. Perhaps it is best if we go over a bit of Kevin's formative years, which will explain Jennifer as well in the second prologue chapter.

When Kevin was 10 and his balls dropped, he began getting a vested interest in anything that caught his arousal, particularly fit chicks with wide and well rounded asses. Well, asses of any type to be honest, but especially the big ones. Shortly after he met Jennifer, she showed her the porn that his family kept around the house, and she immediately took a vestPost too long. Click here to view the full text.

Succession Ceremony

Typically, looking over paperwork was the most dull job in the world. As good as she was at keeping up her image, the cocktail of transfer arrangements, notices to foreign dignitaries, funding requests and edict proposals… it was a powerful sedative on most days.

But today was not most days. Soon-to-be-former Queen Sophia’s heart fluttered with every turn of the page. Her fingers danced across the paper, brimming with excitement.

She hadn’t noticed me peeking up from my own stack of files. During the transfer process, Sophia had been hiding it well, but as she reached the end of the bureaucracy, the end of her life, and the end of her rope, the cracks were beginning to show.

If the average citizen was asked to describe Queen Sophia, they’d probably paint you a picture of a model queen. Steadfast but warm, wise and gentle, but decisive and firm. She was a tall beauty with pale, wavy hair, preferring practical wear that accentuated her long, elegant limbs and subtle curves.

With her husband’s declining health, Sophia had found herself taking on more and more of the monarch’s responsibilities, right up until his sudden, but not unexpected, passing.

As one of the aides to the late king, if you asked me to describe Sophia, I would tell you that she hated carrots but insisted the chefs include them anyway, for the sake of her and her daughters’ health. I would tell you that she often put her feet up on the table when nobody was looking because she secretly hated sitting still. And that had a very sharp sense of hearing, and she used it to sense approaching footsteps and discern their owners with almost supernatural accuracy. (And if they belonged to someone important, she’d take her feet off the table, of course.)

I would tell you that balancing her duty to her nation as its surviving monarch and her responsibility to her three daughters as their mother weighed heavily on her. In the last two years that I’ve spent as her late husband’s successor-in-training, I’ve seen the work she put in to be the model queen. The citizens were right about her, they just didn’t know how right they were.
Post too long. Click here to view the full text.

B-b..Because, techi!

(Part 1)

---

-

Looking for jissouseki is relatively easier than one would expect. Like a great rodent population, you find them most populous in the alley-ways and areas around urban housing, behind restaurants and marketplaces, and warehouses and ports. You might find one in your backyard, maybe even within your own home; quietly and sometimes cleverly hiding from sight in the basement or the attic.

But the largest populations comes from the parks. Next to that are the forests or pastures in the countryside. But parks remain the number one way to run across many jissouseki.

I myself have a jissouseki as a pet, along a few to play with for my amusement, if nothing more. Many of these creatures are expendable, to an almost ridicoulous degree. The ones worthy of being pets, and thus entitled to a good life of treats, bedding, love and care, are the smart ones. It foten hard to ever find a jissou smart enough to grace you. But how to tell which ones are the dumb retarded stupid ones from the above average to high in intelligence?

Simple! You just ask them, whenever they waddle up to you by themselves or in a group asking (and in some cases, demanding) you to take them home, why you should.

And watch the spectacular results.

You often find them in large packs of two to twelve. Right now I had been accosted by two jissou. One was obviously a recently grown adult with the responsibilities of a mother to boot. On her arms was a slumbering jissou child, looking exactly like a miniature, but cuter, version of herself.

"Hello Mr. Man!"

I smile, quietly humoring her, "Hello little jissou."

"Is my daughter not cute, desu?" She asked, her brightly colored eyes glowing with anticipation.

"Yes," I replied honestly, "She looks so very cute!"

"Am I not cute too, techi?"

I raise an eyebrow and bluntly replied, "You are ugly. I don't know how your kid lives whenever she wakes up to your face. And frankly, you smell worse than a horse that died on crack."

The mother stared at me, red and green tears welling up in her large eyes. She wiped some away with an arm, now openly crying, "I'm not ugly, desu! I'm a pretty jissou Mama, desu! You are a mean jerk, desu!"

"Ha! Me, mean? That may be so Jissou Mama, but I am honest!" I replied with a snort of laughter, "Your daughter is cute, you are not!"

"I AM cute! You are lying desu," screeched thPost too long. Click here to view the full text.

Tags: cannibal, history, nonfiction

This is not a story, but rather a link to an academic book on the real occurrences of socially accepted cannibalism in the past. I found it a fascinating read. It's not gore, but it's full of people being purchased or captured and then killed and eaten. Such things happened, and the book describes not only how, but also asks why and how such practices could become widely accepted in some societies during certain times and circumstances.

Edible People
The Historical Consumption of Slaves and Foreigners and the Cannibalistic Trade in Human Flesh
by Christian Siefkes
Berghahn Books, September 2022
392 pages, 20 illus., bibliog., index

From the description on https://www.berghahnbooks.com/title/SiefkesEdible :

While human cannibalism has attracted considerable notice and controversy, certain aspects of the practice have received scant attention. These include the connection between cannibalism and xenophobia: the capture and consumption of unwanted strangers. Likewise ignored is the connection to slavery: the fact that in some societies slaves and persons captured in slave raids could be, and were, killed and eaten. This book explores these largely forgotten practices and ignored connections while making explicit the links between cannibal acts, imperialist influences and the role of capitalist trading practices. These are highly important for the history of the slave trade and for understanding the colonialist history of Africa.

From the introduction:
Post too long. Click here to view the full text.

Hi.
I wanted to write a game about my thoughts but I failed, so I'm just going to post here.

You're just idling one day and your phone buzzes. You instantly know it's your hacker crush who tells you to undress. So you do it because you do this type of thing, Wht take GRT and turn into a girl if you're not going to let your boyfriend control your free will and life as a professional hobby?

The phone buzzes in giving you ideas and what to do and think about, has gone on for a year after you met hacker kid.

Is actually serious, you're being brutally made into a cute house pet like that one time a syringe came in the mail and it made your balls disappear.

All you have to do is text him to stop but you won't because you like being involved in a fanfic erotica story with free will taken away. Who wouldn't. Not Wht you became a girl but alright. That's later because someone got done micromanaging based on an erotica novel.

"Wanna meet up?"

Part 1

“There’s our guest of honour!” Samantha’s dad grinned, finding his daughter stood in the corner of the garden, talking to her sister and sipping from a water bottle – the only refreshment that she was allowed. The naked fourteen year old sighed, having hoped for a few more minutes of respite. “Come and be sociable!” her dad urged. “Everyone wants to meet and congratulate you before…”

“Before they eat me?” she rolled her eyes. Her twelve year old sister Becky giggled and Samantha shot her a harsh look. “Why can’t you just be honest about it? I’m food and I don’t get a choice about it. I might as well be a pig from market. Quit trying to pretend this is my party and I’m getting some great honour!”

“Now, come on!” Her dad sighed, trying to his his irritation. “I though we’d been through this? It’s our family tradition! Has been for more than two hundred years. You really enjoyed eating your cousin last time, don’t you remember?”

“Kinda,” Samantha sipped her water as defiantly as she could manage, “but I was, like, four years old. Let’s face it,” she glared at her dad, “this is an honour for you and mum, so everyone can say what a good job you did raising me to be so delicious and I just end up as other people’s shits!”

“Be that as it may,” her dad replied firmly, “this is happening, young lady, and all these people here have come for a nice party and you’re not going to spoil it. Now for goodness sake, come over and be at least a little sociable!”

“Or what?” She glared.

“Or I might forget to grease the spit!” He raised an eyebrow and folded his arms, daring her to make a comeback but she wisely decided not to argue further. “Okay, are we sorted here?” he asked and Samantha nodded. “Good!” he smiled once more. “So let’s go and say hello. You too!” He smiled at Becky and beckoned her with his hand before putting it on Samantha’s shoulder and guiding her.
Post too long. Click here to view the full text.

STANDARD DISCLAIMER:This story is fantasy. Anybody who would even think about doing what these fictional characters do in real life belongs behind bars, in a padded cell, or failing that, a shallow grave.

Part 1: Vexation

It was…vexing. That was probably the best word to use. A step above merely "annoying", but not really a threat to the overall success of the operation. A hit to the bottom line, of course, but they'd made sure to account for damages when they'd made their budget. They still stood to make a killing off this trip, especially if that "specialty buyer" turned out to be true to his word. Still, a waste.

Captain Vorden sighed. A waste of money and good pussy.

They'd set up camp three months ago, and it was just about time to pack up and leave. If the bitches had stayed put a few more days they'd have been aboard the transport where even the most brainless primitive would realize that escape attempts were utter lunacy. But no, some idiot had bragged to them that they'd be heading offworld soon (he'd already spent a somewhat cathartic thirty minutes yelling at the idiot in question), and the little redhead who'd been the ringleader of the whole mess had been too damned clever for her own good. She'd put two and two together and made her move. Five bitches had almost made it to the outer perimeter before they were caught again.

And that was the problem. Their security was good, but it wasn't airtight. Their whole operation relied on fear to keep the merchandise in line. On the threat of their "sorcery" -there he allowed himself a brief chuckle at the expense of the superstitious primitives- and the very clear warnings about what would happen to anybody who tried to escape. By making the threats very threatening, they'd hoped to avoid having to damage the goods at all. Well, beyond what unavoidable damages they'd suffer during what his second-in-command Cal jokingly referred to as "Orientation".

In any case, they didn't actually want to follow through on the threats, because each primitive they made an example of was another slave they wouldn't be able to sell. But now they had to, or the threat would be seen as empty and a largely manageable cargo would turn into a godawful mess. With that in mind, he figured that they'd have to make it good. A proper spectacle, something that'd stick with thePost too long. Click here to view the full text.

You walk into the room, drawn by Sarah's desperate cries for help. As your eyes meet her petite Asian figure, your gaze lingers on her cute face, pale skin, and dark hair. The sight of her dressed in white ankle socks, white panties hugging her hips, and a black crop top that accentuates her curves sends a wave of desire through you.

Sarah's hair is trapped in the washing machine, and she looks up at you with wide, pleading eyes. Her voice trembles as she begs for your assistance, her vulnerable state adding to the intensity of the moment.

With a calculated pause, you continue to admire the enticing picture she presents. The soft fabric of her panties caresses her delicate skin, emphasizing her slender waist. As she tugs on her tangled hair, her body sways subtly, enhancing the curves that allure you. It's an erotic scene, and the desire in your eyes is unmistakable.

Sarah's blush deepens, her cheeks tinged with a mixture of embarrassment and desire. She continues to plead for your assistance, her voice laced with a hint of desperation. As you examine her closely, you realize just how hopelessly stuck she is. Her struggles have left her tired and fatigued, evident in the glistening beads of sweat that adorn her forehead and the heaving of her chest.

——

You step forward, closing the distance between you, drawn to the raw intensity of the moment. Sarah's petite form is displayed before you, her helplessness making her all the more irresistible.

Your gaze trails down her body, taking in every curve, every inch of exposed skin. The white ankle socks hug her delicate feet, accentuating their dainty allure. The white panties cling to her hips, contrasting against her pale skin, and the black crop top hints at the supple flesh hidden beneath.

Your hands approach the tangled mass of her hair, fingers deftly working to free her from the machine's grasp. The intimate act of disentangling her locks sends shivers of anticipation down your spine, heightening the tension in the room. As you work, your fingers brush against her skin, igniting a fire within both of you.
Post too long. Click here to view the full text.