/lit/ - Literature

You’re standing outside of a side entrance to an old school building with minutes to go before you get to participate in the most controversial game show in the North American Union: High School Murder Spree.
Each three months hundreds of girls between the ages of thirteen and eighteen are selected by nationwide beauty pageants, out of a pool of thousands of applicants, and locked in this refurbished school building. Hidden cameras are placed in every nook and cranny throughout the building, along with one plain-view camera in each room. To win 100,000 dollars, each girl must survive for three hours and she has to masturbate to climax ten times in front of a plain-view camera, but cannot masturbate in front of the same camera more than once. You have been issued an ACR 3, two M9s, a Bowie knife sheathed in your left boot, and a backpack filled with ammo. You have a camera strapped to your forehead, and another on your belt buckle. You and three other hunters, stationed at various entrances around the building, will enter the building at nine o’clock in the evening to seek out and exterminated as many girls as possible. You won’t win anything other than the experience and glory of getting to participate, and the Dead Cunt if you kill the most girls.
You don’t know how long ago the girls went in to get their head start. It was less than thirty minutes, and that’s all you know. You don’t own a watch and you don’t have your phone. Your camo shorts do little to stop the winter air from chilling you to your core as it rushes past your legs. You jump at the crackle of the intercom.
“It is now nine o’clock PM. Hunters, you may now commence with the killing.”
The metal door opens with a buzz. You stride across the threshold and the door clammers shut behind you.
You’re in a hallway with dozens of doors on either side. Which one to try first? You draw an M9, as that one contestant did on an episode back in Season Eight, and fire three rounds down the hallway. A chorus of screams erupts behind the third door on the right. You grin as you holster your weapon.
A chair slides out from behind a large desk as you barge in. An Asian girl is running towards that desk. She can’t be any older than thirteen, bending over with her brown ass cheeks hanging out of her red-checkered microskirt, and orange-sized buds bouncing beneath a black tank-top. She spins around and gasped as you close the door. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. You take aiPost too long. Click here to view the full text.

A collection of some of my stories
https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomedfortune

https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimmerotica/works

This is where I post most of my stories. I'll update this thread for misc stories.

How about a thread for executing minors? In spirit of the "Short Capital Punishment Stories" thread on Old Gurochan.

==Juvenile Executions==

Six girls were lined up against the wall, wearing nothing but diapers, as Andrew entered the chamber. Rebecca, his busty redheaded assistant, smiled as he placed his coffee on her desk.
“So, what do we have today?”
“Here.” Rebecca handed him a tablet. He scrolled down the webpage containing their information.
The two twins in the middle, identical to the orange-sized tits on their chests and brown ponytails, were Lori and Sheryl Coleman, both twelve. Lori was selected by lottery, while Sheryl volunteered. She probably couldn’t live without her sister.
The tiny, flat-chested, Latina with short hair was Lizandra Avalos. She stood on the right end of the group, shaking. Andrew groaned as he looked at her date-of-birth: today was her tenth birthday. Another lottery-selectee.
Next to Lizandra, an Asian teen of twelve, short bright-pink hair, Bree Chang stood biting her lips. She was caught shoplifting.
To the left of the Coleman twins was Katie Spina; an eleven-year-old with red pigtails and glasses. She flashed a boy at school.
The girl at the end was Emily Pollentine, nine. She was the daughter of a corrupt politician. Andrew felt a lump in his throat as he read “vaginal execution” on her file. Poor Emily was going to receive one of the most extreme punishments for something she had no control over.
Andrew pulled out his sidearm, a Model 629. Lizandra screamed in Spanish until he forced the gun into her mouth and blew her brain out.
Bree tried to flirt her way out. “Come on, you know you’d rather take me home as a sex slave,” she squeezed her breasts, already the size of cantaloupes, “how many girls my age have tits like these? You can’t let them go to waste.”
“But I will.” He pressed the gun against her chin. He waited just long enough for tears to well up in her eyes, and the crotch of her diaper to turn yellow, and pulled the trigger.
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"You're not the person I was supposed to meet," she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Oh, he fell sick and asked me to meet you instead, didn't he tell you?" the man smiled unconvincingly and motioned her inside the unlit garage. "Would you please come in?"

She shrugged and entered the place. She probably wasn't getting out alive, was she? she wondered - and was proven right when the garage door clanked shut behind her, and lights lit up.

The room was largely empty, tiled, and the centerpiece was a large table saw with restraints positioned just so. There weren't windows, and the walls looked soundproofed.

"Well, get on then," the man behind her said, tone now icy cold.

She shrugged in annoyance - she really didn't care for the attitude - but complied, disrobing then climbing on the table. She even did him the favor of clanking four out of five restraints shut, first on her legs then her left arm and her neck. The last one was tricky, but the man did it for her as she lay back.

The table was cold. She shivered, staring at the concrete gray ceiling lit up with harsh industrial lights - thankfully, none were right above her. Was he going to draw this out, or?

He did, taking his time somewhere outside of her field of vision. Washed his hands? What was that noise? She couldn't remember if she saw a sink, but it made sense for there to be one.
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my take on the dolcett genre I do not like the underage or non-consensual aspects of it and I dislike the eugenics aspects. Feel free to use the setting without crediting me. This work is in the public domain.

If you are reading this you have stumbled on one of the dimensions of the nuita race as we are farmers of man shaped organisms and we look like sexless beings that are transparent so you can see our organs with balls of magic as heads. we place portals to various places in the multiverse, . We nuita only farm organisms that want to be meat and is of breeding age. They are feed high class food and the meat of norbs which look like cows with antlers and trunks. Our organisms get reincarnated in our vats so they can keep experiencing their joy of being our products. We also offer day-trips and tours so you can see how well they are being treated and take some home as spouse or slave. We have any products you would want from the organisms. If you have found a portal that means you must want this as product or customer. we also allow products to marry in that case they are a package deal. Product and customers are free to leave anytime with no consequences. Unfortunately we do not allow organisms that will contaminate the stock such as faeries, werebeasts or undead, etcetera in our dimensions, or as customers and/or stock. All our live products are guaranteed healthy and have no defects unless the customer wants a defected one.

This portal you went in is only exclusive to cisfemales that want to be meat or eat female humanoid meat, we serve our customers well

Here in the restaurant of Yuriniku Kunoichi all the girls we have are trained to be ninjas, as we believe that makes them happier. and we also offer nullo girl slaves which are girls with no breasts, nipples uterus, ovaries ,fallopian tubes,bellybutton or outer and inner labia, vagina and all of the clitoris with their outer genitals sewn up with just a peehole and anus for you to keep. we have an Edo period vibe in this restaurant. we also enjoy teaching the arts of female on female love. We also have full tabletop and live action role playing games. We do hope you enjoy your stay here. Our yuriniku kunoichi also work as dream warriors protecting the innocent. The girls are completely naked with our yuriniku kunoichi brand on their necks.

(Repost from old Gurochan)

-----
(1/3)

As the woman behind the counter went through the speech, Chelsea let her eyes wander over to the next counter, where men were checking in.

“…be aware that, although we make effort to minimize the risk, accidents can and sometimes do happen…”

She’d heard it all before. She knew the routine. Listen to the little legalese speech, sign the waiver, go in, have a good time. She’d been coming here most Thursdays for years now. She could recite the speech herself.

“By signing this waiver, you agree not to hold the company liable for any injury or loss of life incurred while using the service. If you agree, please say ‘I consent’.”

“I consent,” replied Chelsea. The man going through the other side of the checkin procedure wasn’t very attractive—a little shorter than she’d prefer, a little balder, a little fatter. In a weird way that made things better. He handed over his credit card. Men who come here have to pay. She signed the waiver. Women got in free.

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Take a Hint - Part 1

“You’re sure that it’s no trouble?” Celia asked me, as I pressed down on my key fob, unlocking the passenger side door. I shook my head.

“Really, I don’t mind. What are friends for? I’m just sorry Brendan couldn’t take you.” We both got in and settled in our seats, as I turned the key making my old piece of shit shake.

“Yeah, but you know how his dad is.” She chuckled. Yeah, I did. Brendan’s dad was a tough man, was all business and no fun. And for whatever reason, even since we were kids, he felt the need not only to impose that on his own son, but his son’s best friend too. Neither of us bought into it, but I could at least tell him to fuck off – he wasn’t my dad, after all. Brendan wasn’t so lucky. He was even having to miss his girlfriend’s slaughter date because of it.

“Yeah. So, how far do you want me to go with you? Do you want me to just drop you off? Or-“

“If you got somewhere to be, just say so.” She smirked.

“Nah, it isn’t that. I’ll even stay and watch you on the line.”

“That desperate to see me naked, huh?” Celia pushed her light blonde bob cut out of her light blue eyes, staring daggers into my flustered face. She always knew how to tease me, ever since freshman year.
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<b>The main attraction of an old amusement park is its stunning animatronics. But there is more to these cute dolls than the average visitor can tell at first glance. </b>



PART 1




Soulford is a big city. Over a million locals make up the busy, chaotic landscape of this small metropolis. But outside the hustle and shoulder-to-shoulder throng of city life, there are miles upon miles of empty fields, run by old, self-reliant farmers. Somewhere between the downtown, the rural field and the suburbia lies a classic example of an American amusement park. It’s old, both in its years and in its look, but it’s still kicking, seeing dozens of guests every day, mostly families passing by on their road-trip and rascal teens looking for a place to hide from their homework. A lot of them are just random passerbys, intrigued by the time-capsule experience this park provides.


The owner of this establishment, a 66-year old balding man with a beer-belly, is simply known to the public as Old Gary. The big sign on top of the gate reads:


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"I bet you couldn't hang yourself with just your own strength," Iri called out and batted the noose hanging from the swingset next to the regular swing.

"Hmm?" Nae looked up from her book and scratched her pussy, irritated from sitting naked on bare untreated wood of the bench. She had a loosely hanging sailor suit blouse on, but her skirt was in her bag - she was no longer at school, and you could wear anything at the playground. She'd have taken off the blouse too, but it was a hot day and the cotton blouse protected her at least a little - and at 12 she didn't really have anything to show off in the chest department.

"Bet you couldn't hang yourself with this without tying it to something," her classmate Iri repeated, batting the noose back and forth teasingly. She was completely naked herself, which probably was easier to bear with her darker skin. Nae herself was the kind of pale that burned long before it tanned, with deep chestnut hair in a page cut around her ears, while Iri wore her dark curls in twin ponytails - they kept the hair off her neck, at least, in this heat.

Nae looked at the noose thoughtfully. It was always fun to get one over her sporty friend who considered herself superior for spending all her free time climbing, running and jumping, and prided herself on never putting more than two seconds of thought into anything. "I am allowed to only use my own body's strength?"

"And you can't tie a knot!" Iri specified quickly, realizing that her crafty friend was up to something and cutting off the one avenue of cheating she could think of in the aforementioned two seconds.

"You're on," Nae shrugged, put away her book and walked to the swing. She put the noose over her head, then drew the rope taut, passed it between her legs from the back, looped it around her neck another time on top of the noose, then around her waist. Holding the remaining end, she fell forward, pushing off with her feet, and just as planned felt the rope at the top of the swing slide - until her neck and pussy were at nearly the same level and she could no longer reach the ground with her legs.

Easy-peasy, it barely even took effort to hold on to the end of the rope in her hand. Hurt like a b-word, of course, and she regretted not tying a knot between her legs so she could get herself off wriggling. It would of course be agaiPost too long. Click here to view the full text.