In particle physics there are a set of measurements known as the Planck units. These measurements are extrapolated from the physical constants of reality, such as the speed of light and the Boltzman constant, which describes the mathematics of entropy. A Planck length is the distance a massless particle will travel at the speed of light (the Planck speed) and consequently the Planck time is the amount of time it will take for a particle to travel the Planck length at the speed of light. In the minds of many physicists, the Planck units are the smallest measurements of consequence in our reality, as the laws of physics as we understand cease to have relevance below these measurements within most models and theories. Because of this, the Planck units may be thought of somewhat like the underlying “grid” within our universe, on which the pixels of reality move. Perhaps a single unit of Planck time is the closest we can come to truly defining a “moment” in our world.

Rebecca stared blankly at her showerhead as the blisteringly hot spray loosened the blood from her supple skin and carried it down her hourglass form and swirling into the drain. She stood there for a long time, mouth slightly agape, eyes defocused as the water scalded her, punishing her for her sins, even as it comforted her, held tight and purified her. Took away the blood. She didn’t try hard to understand what she had done only minutes before, instead simply embracing the heat wrapping around her like a second skin and causing billowing waves of steam to emerge from her apartment’s open bathroom door and into the cool night air past her balcony. Closing her eyes, she felt at peace for the first time in the last… what was it now? Three weeks? A month? It didn’t matter now. A slight smile curled around her lips. All was well now. All could end now. The young woman reached down and gently twisted the two knobs at her waist level, causing the water to spurt to a trickle and for a sudden gust of cool air to run over her from outside.

She turned and opened her eyes, suddenly realizing she hadn’t even slid her shower door shut in her daze. Slowly, gracefully, her calm figure stepped from the tiled floor onto the fuzzy pink mat a couple steps away, where she stood for a moment and felt the soft strands of synthetic fabric tickle her dripping feet. It was the same sensation she had loved since she was a little girl, just as special as ever this time. Her smile widened. A genuine, swPost too long. Click here to view the full text.

Sorry there's nothing remotely "guro" in this introduction, other than by implication, but I needed to set the scene. Should get more "interesting" as it progresses ;-)

Pt 1

“Hey! This is new!” Chloe exclaimed to Abi as they rounded the corner of the mall and saw the double store-front with the stylised “F” above the entrance. The window display featured mannequins of girls aged from five or six up to young adult but most seemed to be effigies of girls their own age, albeit the impossibly thin, faceless type common to such stores. All seemed to be dressed in fancy leather clothing, from mini-shirts and crop-tops to slinky cocktail dresses and coats that swept the floor, worn over what could either be a leather bikini or underwear set. “Wanna check it out?”

“I don’t know…” Abi looked uncertainly at the fancy goods in the window. She was pretty sure there was nothing in there a twelve year old girl could afford to buy for herself, not unless she was the daughter of a movie star or something! “Looks expensive.”

“So?” laughed Chloe, “It’s not like we have to actually buy anything. What’s wrong?” she asked, “You never pretended to be rich before?”

“Well, when you put it like that!” Abi chuckled and followed her friend through automatic door. The air inside was pleasantly warm and had the comforting aroma of all leather shops mixed with something else the girls could not quite put their finger on. Sandlewood perhaps?

“Hello, ladies.” A smartly-dressed sales assistant approached them as they came in, her mouth fixed in a customer-service smile that did not extend to her eyes. “Welcome to Falquin’s Fine Leather Emporium. Can I assist you in any way?”

“Oh, no!” Chloe waved her away airily. “We’re just browsing for something to wear to my dad’s next premiere.”
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Do you know of any writers accepting commissions? Am looking for someone to put into good words a story of mine. I have every scene plotted out already. Need someone who can describe feelings, pain and various guro stuff well. Must be prepared for some revisions to my liking. Can shell up to $50 depending on length.

You can drop your profile and work here or shill for someone else. We might even use this thread to list all writers accepting commissions. Thanks folks!

(Lez/ denial/ con/ fgm/ femcirc/ bodymod/ chastity)

—–

Interesting products

Working at the pre-marketing firm was very pleasant for Charlotte. She had landed a very interesting job straight out of high school, thanks to her language skills. She got to work with a supportive team, all of whom had become very close friends to her over the past two years. The firm was large, with dozens of different teams working of hundreds of different consumer products before they were passed on to different marketing firms.

Her team consisted of her and four other girls. There was Vivianne, the team leader, a cute short brunette in her late twenties. Then there were Codi and Klara, stunning blonde twins from Canada who mostly worked their phone lines. The two were about Charlotte’s age, with gorgeous 80s luscious hairstyles. They had a thing for vintage fashion and the natural beauty to pull it off. The twins were the stuff of dreams. They were taller than Charlotte and had sizable tits. Not as big as Charlotte’s of course. She was abnormally large. Her Italian heritage blessed her with beautiful olive skin, dark brown eyes, a captivating smile and tits that almost looked out of place on her short frame but seemed to defy gravity.

Lastly, there was Amber. Amber’s parents were from Russia and she used her knowledge of the Russian language when working with many of the importers and manufacturers. She also did a lot of marketing concepts for products going to targeted segments. Amber was a tall rocker girl with bright red dyed curly hair reaching all the way down to her hips, a sizable septum piercing and often wearing punkish, quite provocative clothing such as fishnets, collars and spiky high heels.

Charlotte and Amber were very close, more than just friends. Charlotte had not known she was into girls before but when Amber came into her cubicle one late evening with a bottle of wine the two soon found themselves drawing closer to each other, feeling each other’s breath on their skin and eventually their lips touching. They ended up at Amber’s place. Their office romance was no secret.

It was 2pm on a Friday. Charlotte, Amber, Codi and Klara were sitting at the coffee break room, chatting about the newest episode of “War and Love in the Amazon”, a show they all watched the moment a new episode dropped. It was cheesy, but very entertaining. Every episode seemed to follow a predictable script. Every wPost too long. Click here to view the full text.

Accidentally posted this in another thread instead of its own thread so fixing that now.

Jessica for Dinner
Tags: Kidnapping, Bondage, Lesbians, Cannibalism, Knifeplay, Cooking, Semi-consensual, Drunk.

As she slowly returned to wakefulness the first thing that Jessica noticed was that her head hurt. Not just in the sense of a headache, but all of it, down to her jaw which felt strained and over-stretched. Her mouth was open, open wide, and there was something in it. She couldn't quite see what it was, just a flicker of red at the corner of her vision, but she could feel it with her tongue. Whatever it was was large and round and smooth. Like a giant jawbreaker, but it seemed less firm.

Jessica's addled mind put it aside as she noticed the next thing. She couldn't move her arms. They were locked in place; her hands up by her head and her elbows at right angles. It was pushing out her chest, and now that she realized that; looking down she noticed that her beautiful peach-colored breasts were naked, and so was the rest of her!

"Ah! You're up!" The sudden interjection drew Jessica's attention to the speaker. It was an Indian girl, younger than her, 18 maybe? Though she could be in her early twenties. She was wearing a cute white tube top through which Jessica could see her jutting brown nipples and a pair of skin-tight blue jeans. The girl looked incredible; her skin smooth and glowing and her smile wide and inviting.

"I'm Myra," she explained with the same radiant smile. "Don't worry about telling me your name, it doesn't really matter. Meat doesn't need a name, and really all removing that gag would do would be to let you scream and ask questions whose answers you won't have any use for after tonight. So as far as I'm concerned, you're dinner, and that's all the name you'll need, okay?"

It wasn't okay, obviously. She was trapped. Gagged and bound. Absolutely helpless in the home of some strange girl who wanted to eat her!

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The entire point is so we can identify things we either preferentially want to read, or absolutely want to avoid at all costs, WITHOUT clicking through to the actual thread and scrolling down to wherever the tags are hidden. Sort it out.

Clarissa sat on the plush couch, her finger nervously twirling a stray bang of her golden blonde hair. The waiting room was minimalist, consisting of plain white walls, ceiling, and floor, and containing only the couch, a small table with a scattering of magazines, and a bottle of water. She reached over and grabbed the bottle, unscrewing the cap and taking a deep gulp of water. It was unseasonably hot, and her sweat stuck to her shirt, causing it to cling tightly to her breasts.

The young single mother grimaced as she thought back to the events that brought her to the room. It started with a letter in her mailbox. The royal stamp was on it, so she had quickly opened it and read the letter. She had been chosen by the king to attend his yearly birthday. The wording implied that it wasn't a voluntary invitation. The king had a reputation for choosing attractive women off the street and taking them to his castle. They were never seen again, although their families were compensated very richly. As expected in a small citystate like San Venizio, rumors ran wild about what exactly happened to these women, but no one knew for sure. Now it seemed like Clarissa was about to find out for herself.

The door swung open, making Clarissa snap out of her reverie, and a prim looking woman in a business suit walked in with a briefcase in hand. Clarissa didn't fail to notice the two large, burly guards flanking the woman, their pistols holstered on their chest plate carriers. "Ms. Clarissa Overmeier, I am the secretary and legal aide for His Majesty", the woman began. As she talked, her fingers unlocked the briefcase and withdrew a single sheet of paper and a pen. "Before we proceed with the ceremony, I'm going to need you to sign this form". Clarissa took the pen and paper, her eyebrows furrowing as she read the form.

"Name: Clarissa Franklin Overmeier. Age: 31. Social Identity number: 4558710". Her eyes wandered down, taking in the small print, and her unease only increased. "By signing this form, I hereby declare myself property of His Majesty, with all human rights afforded to me prior now forfeit. Any attempt at escape or causing bodily and mental harm to His Majesty will lead to severe punishment for the immediate family of the subject."

Her fingers trembled as she signed the last line with her name and initials. The secretary took the sheet and slipped it back into the briefcase. The woman gave a cold smile. "Rest Post too long. Click here to view the full text.

Tales from the Canterlot Mortuary is a collection of stories surrounding the mortician Mort Momento and looking through the many corpses that head his way, figuring out their means of death, carrying out their terms for a funeral, and having some fun along the way.

This first entry is more of a pilot story. I had written it a long while ago (like a couple of years now) and I'm just now deciding to publish it here. If you have any ideas for future entries, please suggest them in this format:

Name: (this would be a character from MLP. It might branch out to other series, but for now, it's MLP. If your suggestion is an OC, please link to their appearence)
Cause of Death: (how did they die and how were they found at the crime scene?)
Death Outfit: (how were they dressed when they were processed by CSI?)
Funeral Arrangements: (what, if anything, have they requested happen to them for their funeral?)

Without further to do, let's begin!

Bittersweet (Pinkie Pie, 2nd person)

9:13 PM. That was the time they called it according to the note attached to the body bag of one Pinkamena Diane Pie. You were just a hapless mortician that was assigned to analyzing the body. You look at some of the notes attached to it, like how she was aged at 23 by the time of her death and that she died of cardiac arrest. You unzip the bag and by God was she gorgeous. Her eyelids were naturally closed and her face gave off a natural, peaceful look.

Her hair was long, curly to the point of it being fluffy like cotton candy and in a bright hot pink color. You continue to unzip the bag. She wore a pink sweatshirt and black track pants. Her body was a bit on the chubby side, but not to the extent of her being morbidly obese. You notice that CSI team have prepped her body for examination with the bagged hands and the fact that one of her feet are missing a sock. You take the body out of the bag and carry her to the metal tray that you prepared for her. Rigor mortis seemed to have passed for her as you notice the way her body limped as you carried her.

You sneak a grab at her butt as you lay her down and judging from that feel alone, you figure out what’s the first thing to be taken off. You take off the other sock and put it to the side. You observed both feet as you lift up Diane’s legs and worked your way to the waist. Tugging the pants down, you managed to pull down both her pants and panties Post too long. Click here to view the full text.

Okay, so I made a thing, a weird thing, in a whim. I hope you like it.

—

"Suzie, pleaaaaaase!" Tim begged. "I really need to pass this test. I haven't studied at all!" he explained.

"No." the blonde girl said firmly.

"Suzie! We need your help." Leah repeated after her friend. "Just this one time!" the brunette with short hair asked.

Suzanne sighed. It was always like this before the finals. Everyone knew that she had the best grades, so they were circling her, asking for advice here, there, and everywhere. "How about trying to study instead of begging my help? You know, it might help." the girl said tired. "Not to even talk about the idea." she said, barely resisting the urge to facepalm to the two. It was always fun to go and chat and hang around with the two, but sometimes their whims made her reconsider the friendship. It had been just a few weeks ago when Tim had gotten a great idea to try to climb on the roof of the school building. He had almost broken his foot when he had tried to climb the school's wall. Leah wasn't as bad as Tim, but she often got excited and dragged into the ideas of Tim. Like this time.

The three were standing just outside the doors of a local grocery store. They had been walking to get some snacks before the last exam of the semester, mathematics of course, when Tim had told them his brand new and absolutely flawless idea for how he could beat the exam without studying for it at all. And as far as Suzie had observed, without studying almost at all at the class during whole semester.

"Hey, it is a good idea! I read it would work from! Just let's go and I can prove it." Tim insisted. The boy was quite a geeky nerd type. It was quite likeable in Suzanne's opinion, though she would had preferred if the boy had channeled his interest to actual schoolwork instead of reading all the lore about the latest fantasy novel. At least he wasn't like to worse geeks who wouldn't even bother to shower themselves. Tim was quite cute and handsome in his own sparky way, even though that sparkyness was also quite annoying from time to time.
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Pt 1.

Thank God, it wasn’t cold. I mean it shouldn’t be, it’s early may, but maybe my standing on the Greek theater of campus without a shred of clothing had something to do with it. Some of the first-year students in the podiums are already snapchatting. I can’t really blame them, I’m flattered, and really the more people see this the better.

The hilt of this knife is cold, wood, and shaped like a large penis. It’s amazing what your local carpenter will do for you if you say it’s for a “project”. My thesis advisor is the one who suggested the guy, cute, but a bit of a creep. Speaking of my advisor, there she is, in the middle of the front row, gorgeous, short skirt and shirt with the first two buttons undone, god what a slut, a sexy, super-smart, chain-smoking, slave-driving slut.

“Hi, everyone, I am Halley Valentina, my performance titled ‘The Other Sex’ explores the woman’s body as an object of anatomy. I wish to show, that beneath all this objectified beauty, there really is flesh and blood. That behind all the poetry about the feminine beauty, there is nothing but filth and gore, same as the ugliest man alive. Accompanying this performance will be Michael,” I quickly gesture backstage to a male porn star naked but wearing a blindfold.

“This performance is my final master’s thesis in feminist performance art theory, under Dr. Kate Pappi.” My advisor nods.

“Let’s begin”, I say, and with the same breath gently press the knife just below my sternum. This is it, I think. The crowd is deathly silent.

It doesn’t hurt, like at all, not at first. I slowly and meticulously bring the knife down, keeping my eyes at the crowd. Everyone has their phones out, as blood accumulates and slowly drips down the blade. I must hold the knife steadier and dig deep down as I come nearer my belly button, to cut through my abdominal muscles. I feel a sense of pride that my abdominal muscles are giving the resistance that they are, all those months of intense training have paid off.

Once I’m past my navels, the knife travels all the way down to my pubic mound and I take the knife out. That wasn’t so bad. But this just the beginning. You can hear the trees rustling in the May air.
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