/lit/ - Literature

14 year old Tommy slipped into Master’s arms, arms that had held him through pain that made him sob and beg to simply die, and pleasure that left him dumb and drooling. Those strong arms, the scratchy two day beard, the hot breath and firm, steady voice. Those were his world. At one point, Tommy had been out in the world by himself, free and making choices. Master had shown him how wrong and stupid that was. Tommy wasn’t a man, big and strong and assertive. He wasn’t a woman, beautiful and confident and smart.

Tommy was a femboy. Small and cute as anything, with a fat, jiggly ass made to please, to be spanked and squeezed. Soft, plump lips meant to kiss and wrap around Master’s shaft. And a brain that had once been full of fear and confusion, overwhelmed by a world too big for someone as simple as him. Why did he need to choose his own food? Master would tell him what to cook, tell him what to eat. He never went to bed hungry, not like before Master, when he was too sweet and simple to keep a job, there had been many hungry nights. And cold too, Master made the cold nights outside stop.

Master woke a little bit as Tommy slipped back into bed from getting his glass of water. Master’s big strong hands slipped down into Tommy’s gray sweatpants and squeezed his lovely disproportionately round and jiggly ass. Tommy had been shamed and mocked for his ass, it was right at the edge of unrealistic on his small body. He had hated it for years, until Master showed him how wonderful it was. His ass was his best feature, Tommy’s mistake had just been trying to be taken seriously in the world, instead of seeing himself as a happy little sex toy. There was the old saying about how if the test is climbing a tree, the fish will think he is stupid. Tommy had been trying to be a cashier when it turned out he was just a massive slut.

After much squeezing and a few good spanks on his lovely globes, Master mounter Tommy, strong hands gripping his hips, warm lube applied, and that large shaft that had brought Tommy to the ragged edge of sanity and permanent harm many times spread him and filled the cute cocksleeve to his breaking point. Tommy screamed into the pillow as he bled, but his brain was a happy sea of bimbo juice, no thought except to push himself back and take more of his savior into his body.

“Oh Sir, yes. I never want to leave this bed at your side. I just want to be your simple, stupid whore for the rest of my life!!” he squealPost too long. Click here to view the full text.

WARNING: This story contains heavy amounts of snuff, torture, guro, and LOTS of sexism/misogyny. If you don't like that, don't read it.

“Are you sure about this, Wendy?”


The orange-haired tomboy looked back at her tan-skinned friend who was on the bed, still changing into her casual clothes, putting one sock on at a time. Wendy smirked.


“Don’t worry, Tambry. I’ll be fine. Ain’t none of these dudes are gonna get up in my head. Or in my pants.” she said jokingly.


Tambry sighed at her friends’ confidence. Although she believes she can take care of herself, a lot of girls thought the same way, and now… they’re gone.


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Mistress Skye – Superstar!
By
Edward Hyde


The rest of the evening continued as smoothly as it had begun with the second and third audiences being every bit as appreciative as the first. For the middle show, to keep things fresh, a couple of the executions were gender-swapped from the first, with a boy of fifteen receiving the lethal injection while covering his belly in spunk as the girl chosen to operate the controls flooded him with the orgasm-inducing chemical for nearly the whole time, watching as the pleasure itself became the torture, before inflicting the final quarter of the dose all in one go with the dial turned all the way around to the pain setting. Before moving on from that room, many of the audience had paused to take photos of his face locked, in death, in an expression of unimaginably agony. It gave Skye great pleasure to know how much Dinah would have enjoyed watching others tortured to death by the method she devised for herself, especially as the teen girl executed in the third show was her big sister Martina!

The beheading had to stay a girl, of course, since that prisoner once again provided the meat for the barbecue and Skye knew the paying guests would feel cheated if served boy-meat. Even ‘though it was no longer illegal for human consumption and in most blind tests, hardly anyone could actually tell the difference, it was still considered by most to be vastly inferior to girl-meat and it didn’t seem fair for one set of ticket-holders to get short-changed in this way!

The most interesting swap had probably been the “heretics”, where a girl was hung from the hooks to suffer death by a thousand cuts while it had been a boy strapped into the garotting chair. What made this variation especially interesting was the introduction of a secondary vice clamped around his testicles, slowly crushing them with each turn on the smaller handle. The boy, a fourteen year old named Colin, had abstained from sex or masturbation for the seven days leading up to the event, no mean feat at his age, so that they would be nice and swollen when the time came. Of course his member had stood bolt upright, engorged and proud as, naked of course, he was strapped into the chair and the castration began. The tighter the vice was turned, the more he screamed and blood began to ooze out among the pre-cum. When the engorged testicles finally exploded, he had ejaculated a spectacular fountain of blood mixed with seven days-wPost too long. Click here to view the full text.

From now on, instead of flooding the board by posting each story in a new thread, all of my stories will be posted here. (Fanbox promotions will still be in a separate thread.)

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The Dancing Lady

yuri, lesbian, cons(FF), rape(FF), gore, vore, cannibalism, paranormal, ghost
Who was she? Who was that woman across the street?

Noy adjusted her glasses and wiped her breath from the window. The woman twirled and pranced around the room. A sheet of platinum flowed behind her and settled around her hips when she stopped.

It started six days ago. Something flashed in the corner of Noy’s eye as she hung paper ghosts over her computer. She turned her head as a blonde woman leapt across the window. Noy finished hanging the ghosts and climbed on the bed, wrapping her arms around her pillows as she stared wide-eyed out the window. The woman danced for hours without stopping. She was there the next day, dancing away. She was there the day after that and every day after that. She wore the same old-timey dress, so white it seemed to glow.

The woman arched her back, stretching her arms towards the floor, until her massive tits hung out of her dress. Noy smiled as her view narrowed until the woman’s creamy cleavage filled everything. How did she get her boobs to hang upwards like that? Noy had to find out. The woman threw herself forward in a summersault and lept into the ait, landing on the nightstand without so much as shaking the clutter of picture frames. She jumped onto the bed, then across the room, spinning in the air, before hitting the floor with her arms outstretched.

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The sun was shining on the sea,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The billows smooth and bright--
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

The moon was shining sulkily,
Because she thought the sun
Had got no business to be there
After the day was done--
"It's very rude of him," she said,
"To come and spoil the fun!"


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I can't believe it took me five years to write! But here it is! My second Juan Gotoh inspired story!


Applicant for Death: The Case of Mamoru

Camera shows a young boy dressed in a common school pants and white shirt, standing at the end of gymnastic rails, stretched between him and the camera. The boy smiles friendly.

-My name is Mamoru, and I am about to be murdered.

A kind mature female voice is heard near the camera.

-You like using the word "murder", Mamoru-kun. - The boy blushes lightly. - You want to have bullets fired at you one by one with irregular intervals while you try to reach me. No instantly fatal shots must be done. You also want to wear a white shirt while being - she makes a short pause and finishes with a teasing tone - murdered. That's an interesting request. Could you tell us why you chose such drawn out and detailed death?
-Well... I watched few movies where good guys struggle against the bad guys, but at some point get killed with a gun. The scenes where hero still tries to stand after being shot once, but is shot again and again, were so dramatic. It felt so unfair and cruel. These scenes always made me put myself at the place of the hero in my fantasies. Think of what they feel as they struggle while their life is taken away against their will, and lose. It made me aroused. These days I always fantasize about being packed with bullets when I masturbate. The shirt... I like how in those scenes stains of blood slowly grow on the hero's clothes as they're killed. I want the same thing in my scene.
-Thank you, Mamoru-kun. But you must understand that what we're going to do is not a movie shooting. I'll shoot very real bullets at you. And if you want to struggle - I might not know the difference between you acting your fantasy or wanting to back off. So we're going to do it this way: I'll make the first shot at the least dangerous spot. After it you'll have one and only chance to back off. If you decide to do that - I'll take you to doctor, and you'll return to your everyday life. I'll delete the video, so no one will know anything. If you decide to go through with being murdered - you'll need to say: "I'll never lose to someone like you, criminal scum." At that point I'll know your mind is set and murder you no matter what. Is that clear, Mamoru-kun?
-Yes. Thank you, sensei.
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Same author as Extra Credit here. I might make a proper thread for my stuff but these are all just short off the cuff stories so can't guarantee they'll be more or anything.
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It was an excellent view of the city from Olivia’s apartment, towering skyscrapers lighting up the night sky. Helen took a moment to admire it as her host poured the champagne. She’d climbed a long way from her days on the streets below. The blonde had done a lot of terrible things, too. But now, standing there in her pristine business suit, about to share a drink with hew newest business partner, Helen realised she had zero regrets. She’d won.

“You’re not still thinking about that cop, are you?” asked Olivia, gliding to her left side and handing her a glass.

“No, no, I’m sure he’s busy looking for clues at the bottom of the Hudson by now,” replied Helen, shaking her head. Her hair sat in a neat bun.. “Him and his family.”

“Such a shame,” smiled the taller, olive skinned woman. She raised her glass. “A toast to the future.” They clinked glasses and drank, making eye contact with each other the whole time, then set their drinks down on the table for now, sitting down on the sofa facing towards the windows. The perfect vantage point to plot their next move.

“We’ll take down Rodrigo next,” said Olivia, as she readjusted her low-cut white dress and got down to business.. “He’s a paper tiger. We have the manpower now....” as she talked Helen got lost in her new partner’s brown eyes for a moment, putting a hand on the older woman’s exposed thighs and smiling dreamily as they plotted their rise to the top. She saw a brief flash of red in them. Blinking, she looked up, and saw a little red dot in the middle of Olivia’s forehead.

“Olivia-”
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Mistress Skye’s House of Death
By
Edward Hyde


“Aren’t you done yet?” Dinah sighed as Skye leant over the small mirror which she held in one hand, an eye-liner pencil in the other.

“Easy for you to say!” teased Skye, glancing over her shoulder at her fresh-faced friend who wore nothing but a pink towelling robe decorated with cartoon strawberries. “My costume takes way longer to put on than yours!”

“We can swap role if you like!” Dinah stuck out her tongue.

“No way!” Skye chastised her. “I’ve put way too much work into all of this! Besides, you’re too dumb to explain the controls properly. I’d probably end up getting inflated like a balloon or something if you were left in charge!” Both girls giggled. “But seriously,” Skye set down her pencil and turned to properly look at her friend, “you’re still up for this, right? Not changing your mind? I mean, it would suck if you pulled out last-minute like this but I’m not gonna force you into anything!”

“Oh no way!” Dinah grinned and bit her bottom lip in excitement. “I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks!”

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Inspired by the works of Chalk


Miss Cornet sat down by her desk, put her feet on the table, and looked up at the six students before her. The classroom had been largely cleared of tables and chairs, all piled up at the back for now. Six pairs of clothes were bundled back there as well- only one pair would be worn again.

As the six students stood there, shivering slightly, there was a tense silence. School hours were over; this was an extra-curricular activity.

“Does anyone have any questions?” asked the teacher. Her eyes trailed over the students. Participation was open to students of any age, and the line up reflected that. On the far left of the line up, the youngest student- maybe six- stood with her hands behind her back, looking around dreamily. The others all stood with a more pensive air, tugging on collars and trying not to make eye contact- except one, a tomboyish girl with short brown hair and a tn, from the sixth grade. She raised her hand.

“So like, nothing’s off limits?”

“You won’t get disqualified for anything- you play until your collar goes off, or until you’re the last student standing,” explained Cornet, as though recalling an old script. “Collars only go off if the wearer gets an orgasm- if they cum,” she adds, ensuring her students fully understood the rules. “Work to achieve that goal by any means necessary, without setting your own collar off. Those are the only rules.”

“What’s a discolifocation?” asked the first grader. Miss Cornet ignored her, seeing one of the boys raise his hand too. He was one of the more surprising volunteers, a smart student with good grades. He didn’t have the best grades though, and he had the sort of parents who only accepted perfection. There was only one method of appeal at this school, and that was to participate in these trials. So here he stood, one hand over his dangly bits and a blush on his freckly face.

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It was a mix of naivete and booze that lead to Dr. April Pritchard letting her guard down at the bar.
The hitman was attractive, charming, and had been feeling her up for the entire night, and the runaway bio-chem researcher, thinking that NeuvoDyn's corporate hunters wouldnt reach into the deep heartlands of the Midwest, had no clue that she was face to face with a highly trained and weaponized killer. So she chattered and laughed and downed 3 or 4 bottles of beer, then drunkenly invited the man to her motel room for a one night stand.

The hitman loved dealing with civilian targets, they were never as paranoid as the usual ex-military or criminals that were his usual bread and butter. As his eyes wandered over the sweaty and well shaped body of Dr. Pritchard, he decided that playing with his prey wouldnt hurt anyone.

She stripped and flopped down on the bed, turning over and spreading her legs, her pussy already moist in anticipation. The hitman undid his pants and grabbed her soft, plump thighs, inserting his erect PENIS with a grunt. April gasped, and grabbed the bedsheets as he began to pound away. The man leaned over and suckled her nipple, increasing his tempo.
The good Dr. locked her legs around the hitman and pulled him in for a kiss, their lips locking. He tasted her tongue, the scent of cheap beer and cheap perfume in his nostrils.

Finally, he came, blasting cum deep into her womb.

The woman fell back, breathless and slick with sweat, her sizable breasts heaving. She rolled over on her side to grab her glasses, and it was at this point that the hitman struck. He grabbed her head and placed his muscular arms around her neck. "Dr. Pritchard, you've been a naughty girl", he whispered in her ear.

"W-wait, dont kill me, I've got money, I can pa-"

He twisted her head around with a lightning quick motion. There was a sickening crunch as April Pritchard's cervical vertebrae separated internally, cutting off her brain from the rest of her body. The curvy scientist spasmed once, then went limp, her purple eyes rolling up, a final gasp slipping through her full lips as her brilliant mind went dark.
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