Use this thread to post any writings that you want to share. The quality doesn't matter, so feel free to contribute.

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Cold.

I clutch my left side, gripping it as tightly as my numbed hands allow. Although my ragged jacket blocks the sharp wind, it cannot prevent the coldness from seeping throughout my body.

I gaze upwards. Some of the Sun's light still fills the sky, illuminating the gray clouds characteristic of Winter. The clouds almost seem to be blotting the daylight out of existence while they jostle for space on the expansive canvas. Nonetheless, I can't help but marvel at the beauty of the clouds; how gracefully they intertwine with each other in order to create a magnificent painting.

Something catches my attention out of the corner of my eye, and I look down and to the side. I just barely catch a glimpse of a rat scurrying out from under a garbage bag, probably scared by my presence. I meant no harm to it, but I suppose it's a natural thing for a rat to do.

My gaze follows the alley to where it meets the street and I see a number of people passing by. Probably businessmen heading to work. None of them bother glancing down the alleyway; none of them notice me even though I'm sitting not twenty feet from them. Their gazes are fixed ahead while they scurry along life.

But I do not look down upon those people, or despise them. No, in fact, I admire them. They are people who accomplish things, who make something of their lives. They have every right to look down upon me. After all, I'm a failure of a human being.

As I think these thoughts, I realize my body has become completely numb. I can now only feel the coldness spreading throughout my body from my left side. It feel painful, but it tells me that I'm still alive.

Life is beautiful. I like living, but sometimes I think it might have been better If I had never lived in the first place. I could never do anything except harm others. But that will all come to an end soon. The growing red stain on my jacket reminds me of that.

Maybe it's okay, to die, this way.

"Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."
The girl gives me a gentle smile. A metallic something in her hands catches the moonlight. She notices my stare, and hides the object up her sleeve.
"Is something wrong?"
"...No."
Her smile is beginning to look strained. Light coming from the open window reflects off her pale skin. Is she sweating despite the night breeze?
"I need you to come over here. Take a seat."
She motions toward the empty space on the bed, and I obey. Don't ask me why. She has a lovely face. Like the face of an angel. An illogical impulse tells me to listen to her.
"Good."
Her hand runs through my hair.
"You were always quite the handsome one...the only good one out of all of the others..."
I try to stand but only manage to stumble over.
"What are you doing? You need to be sitting down next to me."
I sit down. She has lovely hair. Like the hair of an angel.
"Good."
The metallic object is revealed to be a massive sewing needle.
"Can you be brave for me?"
Is it possible to fall in love and fear for your life at the same time?
She plucks out numerous strands of her own hair and mine, rolls them between her fingers, and threads the combination through the eye of the needle. My body still refuses to move.
"From today on..."
She threads the needle through my earlobe.
"You are bound to me..."
She threads the needle through her earlobe.
"And I am bound to you..."
She continues to thread, creating an intricate pattern of hair that binds our ears together.
"Not as master and servant, not as husband and wife, but as equals. We will share happiness and sadness, life and death, everything life has to offer and more. I confirm this reality with pain..."
She pulls the needle upward. The hair thread tightens and pulls our ears together until they touch. It hurts.
"And confirm our intent with love."
She leans forward and kisses me.
I can feel her lips on mine, but not anything else. Everything goes black.

Good, that should do it for the noose.

Onwards, to Gensokyo.

The moment I am about to hang myself, a fairy lands on my shoulder.

Surprised, I slip and fall off the chair, noose around my neck.

I panic for a moment, but the noose wasn't tied well enough, and I just fall to the ground.

I can't do anything right, not even kill myself. Sigh...

"So, what do you want?"

I ask as I pick up the fairy sitting on my shoulder and put on my desk.

"Don't throw your life away!"

The fairy immediately berates me the moment she gets a chance to talk.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't."

"You have only one life, isn't it a waste to just throw it away like that...?!"

I start fixing the noose. This time I'll get it right.

"Don't ignore me~~!"

"It doesn't matter if I have one or ten lives. If it's shit, it's not worth keeping."

The fairy jumps up and sits on the noose in front of me.

"There are so many things you can still do with your life, so why would you throw all of that away?!"

"Boredom."

"You wouldn't throw your life away just because you're bored."

"This life is boring and it isn't going anywhere. I can't do anything useful, so I guess this is the one useful thing I can do."

The fairy flings her arms and continues to berate me.

"There are a lot of useful things you can do! You're a writer, aren't you?"

"Not really. My writing is shit, and I get bored after writing for even a short while. If you can call that a writer, everybody's a writer."

"But there are people who read your stories!"

"They just have no taste."

I brush the fairy off the noose and stretch it a bit.

Good, this should hold my weight.

"But what about your family??"

"They'll get over it."

"Then what about your friends??"

"Don't have any."

"You can do wonderful things! You just need to be more optimistic. With some more practice you could be a great writer!"

I put my head through the noose and jump off the chair.

SNAP.

The rope snaps from the weight of my fat body.

So I'm too fat to commit suicide, is that it?

I pick up the broken rope and toss it aside.

"Fine. Have it your way."

I sigh.

But there's no response.

When I look around, I notice the fairy is gone.

Well, whatever.

I sit down at my desk, open my browser, and write a shitty story.

A shitty story about a shitty writer by a shitty writer.

Enjoy.

An empty world.

A world devoid of life.

I shout out.

"Is there anybody out there...?!"

But...my voice is lost in the void.

I continue to walk through the nothingness.

--What did I ever expect to find here?

--Why had I ever come to this place?

There is no sound.

There are no people.

Not even trivial objects fill my path...

An empty world.

A world...devoid of anything.

"Ahahaha...oh wow, haha..."

The student in front of me writhes in pain, clutching at his stomach.

It's like he's a puppet manipulated by an amateur. He twitches and makes spastic movements that look completely unnatural.

It's hilarious.

And when I ease up a bit, look...he's lying still, breathing heavily.

He looks up at me, his eyes begging for mercy.

How pathetic. He can't even get up.

And with a snap of my fingers...the puppet begins moving again.

Screaming in pain and making hilarious movements...yet he remains in place, not moving a single inch from where he's lying.

How futile. His movements...but also his begging for mercy, his attempts to escape, his entire life. Futile and useless.

No more than a toy.

And, as is usually the case...when you get bored with a toy, you throw it away.

I stretch out my hand, fingers spread. Then, with a quick movement...I close my hand.

A scream followed, but it's quickly cut off. The boy vomits blood.

His moves restlessly for a bit, but before long his movements cease completely.

Ah, it's over.

Now I'm bored again.

I need a new toy again.

It feels incomprehensible...for somebody who has so many options, to continuously be bored.

I can't help it. Once you've seen anything, nothing is spectacular anymore.

The police are still completely clueless about the random dead bodies they find. My discarded toys.

Such incompetence...if only they did their work, they could amuse me for a bit.

Wouldn't that be great...? For people to actually resist me, to even try to arrest me.

Come at me, officers. Arrest me. Lock me up. Restrict me to a small prison cell.

Arrest me...

And free me from this boredom.

The sound of a fist pounding against glass.

Inside the glass cage...

The girl screams.

But, no sound is heard.

Only bubbles escape her lips.

Floating in the water...

"Help me. Save me. Please, somebody...get me out of here."

The thoughts are repeated again and again inside the girl's mind.

She tries to call for help.

But, nobody hears it.

Nobody sees it.

Nobody even knows of her existence--

Inside the glass cage.

Floating in the water.

In the vast nothingness...

The girl screams.

She pleads for help.

But, nobody...will ever hear her.

Just wrote on the spur of the moment in a thread about sadism, might as well post it here too.

--------------------

A muffled scream reaches my ears.
On the table in front of me is a girl, screaming and crying.
Her body is entirely naked and bound to the table.
As I make eye contact with her, her body stiffens in fear and she goes silent.
Why is that, you ask?
It's because I was the one who stripped her and bound her to this table.
And now, with this knife...I will proceed to make a work of art.

I place the tip of the knife on her arm, and she tries to scream again.
"Scream all you want, dear. With that towel in your mouth, nobody's going to hear you."
A dark red stream of liquid slowly trickles down her arm.
I move my knife.
Her body stiffens once again, but this time with an even louder muffled scream.
I remove the knife from the surface, and put it on another part of her skin.
Time to decorate her abdomen.
In response to the cold touch of the knife, she starts moving restlessly.
I make a quick movement with the arm holding the knife, and her body stiffens again.
Her eyes are wide, yet whenever I touch her skin, they seem to get even wider...

I walk over to the end of the table.
The girl looks at me with an expression containing only fear.
"Calm down, my dear, calm down..."
I kiss the girl, slowly running my knife down her cheek.
The girl does not calm down. Rather, she looks desperate, as if she's given up all hope.
Well, that's fine too.
I continue carving my art into her shoulders.
With every cut I make, her response becomes weaker...

I take a slight distance to look over my work.
Yes, oh yes...
Crimson red lines weave an intricate pattern over her body.
Slight shivers give the piece a dynamic feel.
--Yes, this is true art.
And at the end of the masterpiece, a face.
Empty eyes. Dried tears. Pure resignation.
This is how art should be.
I kiss my artwork once again, but it no longer gives a response, just staring absent-mindedly as I do whatever I please.
Heading to the door, I switch off the light.
As I leave the room, only complete darkness remains.
Today has been a productive day.

--------------------

I wake up on a cold surface.
My body refuses to move, and there's something in my mouth.
I am...
Tied up. I'm, bound, to a table.
(Wh-what...is...this......??!)
I scream.
Somebody, anybody, help me!
But...my scream is barely audible.
It must be because of that thing in my mouth...
If only I can spit it out, I can scream for help...!
I try to spit it out, but it is to no avail.
I continue to scream, even though I know nobody can hear.
Somebody, please...!!
Then, I notice there's somebody else here.
Looking into his eyes, I become completely silent.
His eyes contain only hatred, only heartlessness, only sadism...
Moreover, in his hand.
In his hand.
A knife.
A knife, in his hand.
I am bound to a table, completely naked, and the only other person in the room is a grinning sadist.

A cold, pricking sensation in my arm.
I try to scream again, but only a muffled voice comes out.
"Scream all you want, dear. With that towel in your mouth, nobody's going to hear you."
The madman taunts me in a calm voice.
I feel blood trickling down my arm.
(He's going to cut me up...! He's going to cut me into pieces......!!)
(I need to get out of here, but how......?!?!)
Then--
Pain. A horrible sharp pain in my arm.
I can only scream from the pain.
By the time I recover from the pain, I feel the same pricking sensation again, this time on my abdomen.
(No...! I have to get out of here, somebody help me...!!)
I try to free my arms and legs, but they're completely stuck...!
I feel the knife sliding over my skin, and when I realize what's happened--
(AAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaAaaAaAaapainohgodthepainmyentirebodyisbeingcutmakeitstopohthepainwhygodwhy......!!!)
I can't think anymore. The pain blocks any other thoughts.
I'm going to die.
I'm going to die.
Please...just let me die...

The monster moves over to where my face is.
He looks straight into my soul.
Hate.
Heartlessness.
Sadism.
But now...there's another emotion present in his eyes.
Enjoyment.
A demon enjoying what he does best.
"Calm down, my dear, calm down..."
His disgusting face comes closer, his lips touch mine.
I feel his sharp knife sliding down my cheeck as hatred flows into my mouth.
--Please...just kill me...
But I am not even given the mercy of death.
As he removes his lips from mine, I feel a dull pain in my shoulders.
Even though it's a sharp knife, it feels like it doesn't hurt that much anymore.
Ah...am I...getting used to this pain...?

My consciousness is dim.
It feels as if I might not even be alive.
Then, is this a dream...?
The slight pain I still feel over my entire body tells me I am still in reality.
I can't think anymore.
I don't want to think anymore.
Just...let me die now.
Let me die.
Please, I ask of you.
I see the demon's face again, and our lips touch for a second time...but I can't bring up the energy to resist him anymore.
It's no use, anyways.
I want to ask him, 'will you let me die now?', but my lips don't move.
Let me die...
Let me die...
Please...just...let me die...
Then, everything becomes black.
I can't see anything anymore.
I can't hear anything anymore.
But still, I can feel the pain.
I see.
I have been left here.
I cannot see, I cannot hear.
I am only left here...to suffer.

Please...

Just let me die.

(I know nobody reads these, but I'll post it anyways...)

My arm moves on its own, and before I know it...

BAM!

The girl - as well as the chair she sat on - tumble to the floor at the impact.

The girl doesn't make a sound. She doesn't even make any effort to get up.

She just stares at me, confused. Confused, shocked, and with tears welling up in her eyes.

Her eyes look like they're pleading, 'why are you doing this??'

Why am I doing this...?

I tighten the grip on the baseball bat in my right hand.

Why am I doing this?

My hand moves over my head, but it doesn't feel like I'm the one causing it to move.

Why, why am I doing this?!

"Aaaaaaaaaahhhhh!!!!"

I aggressively swing the baseball bat at the young girl on the floor to avoid thinking about it.

Don't ask me why!

I hit her again. And again.

Don't ask me why, dammit!

The baseball bat comes down on her fragile body time and time again.

I'm breathing heavily. The girl is now struggling to get up, but she keeps fumbling.

Her former expression of shock was now replaced by pure fear.

She looks at me as if she were looking at a monster.

--That's right. I am a monster.

I am a monster. I'm hitting a young girl with a baseball bat for no apparent reason.

I am a monster. I am a monster. I must be a monster.

If I were human, why would I be doing something like this?

Why?

Why would I do something like this...?

Why am I doing this...?!

Shut up, shut up, shut up, I don't want to think about it!!

Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit!!

It seems I've been continuously beating the girl with the baseball bat while I was thinking.

I hardly felt like I was doing it.

And now...the girl is no longer moving.

She's just...lying on the ground.

Motionless.

Silent.

She doesn't even shiver.

Is she...

I let go of the baseball bat and approach her.

Is she...

I hug the lifeless body and cry.

Why...

Why...did I do such a thing...?

“Oh! OH!” moaned a young woman as the well-toned man on top of her penetrated her again and again.
“Do you want more?” asked the man in a husky voice.
“Yes, Ken! Yes! Harder!” she gasped.

Ken grinned and obeyed. Both moaned in pleasure as they approached their climax, finally calling out as they reached it. Panting in exhaustion, they collapsed onto the satin-sheeted bed.

“That…That was great…” panted the brunette woman.
“You haven’t seen anything yet. Let me show you what a great teacher BB was,” commented the man slyly as he nuzzled her breasts, causing her to gasp in renewed pleasure.
“But…” she gasped to recover her voice. “What about Barbie? What if she comes back early?”

Ken chuckled deeply before beginning to rub her clit, enjoying how her back arched into the pressure. “That blonde bimbo is in Hawaii at a photo shoot. She won’t be back for days. We have all the time in the world to…” he suddenly stabbed two fingers inside the gap, grinning as the woman gasped in shock, beginning to rub herself against his hardened fingers. “Explore.”

Unnoticed, the door to the spacious bedroom cracked open, a small black cylinder poking though. As Ken reoriented himself to begin again, it fired a quick shot at his back.

“Ah!” Ken called out, slapping at the penetration point. “What was…. th—aaaaaat,” he croaked before falling forwards on and into a very scarred brunette.

“Ken! Ken! What happen—end…” A second shot hit her in the throat as she tired to push off his dead weight and awaken him, causing her to rapidly lose consciousness.

A figure, clothed only in a black sweater, pushed open the door, laying her rifle against the wall as she entered. She rolled Ken unceremoniously off the brunette woman with a shove, letting him fall hard onto the floor. She calmly surveyed the female’s petite, athletic body. She turned and spat at the man.

“Well, at least you have good taste. Pity. She seems so young.” The woman then adopted a cruel smile, revealing her perfect white teeth. “But I do hope you both enjoy it.” She paused briefly to caress her own private area, finding it slightly wet. “I certainly will.”

Some time later…

Ken woke slowly, groggily glancing around. From what he could see, he was in a light green tiled room with a large, bright lamp turned on him. As he became more aware of his body, he realized he was strapped down. Not tightly enough to immobilize his whole body as he could wriggle around, but he found his torso was tight to the cool metal table. As he turned his gaze to his left, he saw his lover, Stacey, strapped to a table that barely supported her tiny 5 ft. frame. Her limbs were only lightly bound, but her obviously panicked struggles could not free her. Stacey whimpered in fear as she thrashed about. Suddenly, he heard the squeak of a hinge, and a tall figure entered, her features obscured by the shadows she lingered in.

“Ah. I see my patients are awake.” She commented as she stepped into the room. “Or should I say specimens?”

Ken was in shock. The figure was dressed in thin, white satin lingerie, covered only by a pure white lab coat. But her face, framed in clear safety glasses, wore a cruel, anticipatory smile, something Ken was not accustomed to seeing on the face of the kind, gentle BB he knew.

“BB?” he gasped. “What are you doing?”

Her smile grew into a broad grin. “Why? Me? I’m Doctor Barbie! And I’m about to operate! Now I never finished that pesky degree, but I can guarantee that the procedure will have a 100 percent success rate!”

“W-What a-are you g-going to do t-to us?” whimpered a very frightened Stacey.

“Why I’m going to solve all the problems in your life…” she turned a frighteningly cold glare at the young woman, “…by ending it.” She suddenly grinned. “Let’s get started! I just can’t keep the next patient waiting in suspense, now can I?”

She walked across the room and opened a metal cabinet. Ken racked his limited knowledge before recognizing it as an instrument sterilizer, just like the one he had seen at his plastic surgeon’s office just a few weeks prior. Dr. Barbie began to remove shiny metal objects from the darkened area and placed them on a small cart beneath.

“You see I originally built this room for us to enjoy.” She glanced over her shoulder at her former lover. “You know how I always loved to play doctor. So I decided to expand a little on my fetish. This little room of mine would have been perfect for pleasure, and, maybe, a little study. You see I’ve always wanted to cut a little on live specimens to watch as the organs worked in vivo as they say. Now I could never dream of hurting you permanently…at the time at least, so I set up a second table to play around with some strays I caught, cutting them open while their organs were still warm.” She shuttered in pleasure, reminiscing.

“It was even better when they were awake, when they could scream and struggle while I tore out their beating hearts…” she paused again to revel in the memory, looking at her long, elegant hands remembering how they looked in bloodstained latex. “I got a few weeks practice before, one night, after cleaning up, I returned upstairs to our bedroom, only to find it occupied. Now normally, this would turn me on, but you were in our favorite position…with her.”

She spat the word, then calmly drew out a curved scalpel, playing with it almost absentmindedly.

“Now at first I didn’t believe it, but I could soon see that you were getting tired of me. So I began a little plan. Hey that rhymed!” she grinned at her reflection in the metal blade before placing it in the tray and continuing. “ I decided to fulfill my ultimate fantasy with you…and her.”

Barbie closed the autoclave and wheeled the cart over to the left side of Stacey’s table. Stacey jerked in fear, seeing the gleaming metal edges it held. She looked up in pitiful fear into Barbie’s eyes, only to meet an amused pleasure. She grinned down at her.

“Now I only had one table big enough to hold a human, but you are conveniently small.”

She took off her lab coat, hanging it over the edge of the cart, and pulled on a white surgical gown she picked up from one of the many trays, not all of which were occupied…yet, carefully tying it on.

“Can’t forget this. Blood stains are sooooo hard to get out, you know?”

She secured on the bottom ties of a surgical mask and placed a white U-cap over her blond hair, which she had cut to a shorter, jaw length. Then, she opened a pack of sterile, white surgical gloves and began to pull them on, slowly, enjoying the tight smoothness they provided to her touch as well as the obvious fear they induced in her first subject.

“Now where was I? Ah yes. I had made a second bed strictly for the dogs I caught, but, after a little thought and experimentation, I decided that would be perfect for a little bitch like you, right dearie?” She grinned as she snapped her second glove on, then tied the mask over her picture perfect features, now framing an evil smile as she watched Stacy struggle in vain. “I hope you don’t mind the fit, I don’t have a body memory of your measurements like I do my Kennie’s, so I had to leave it loose to fit you on the first try. It should keep you down, but please do thrash about as much as you can.” Her beautiful, blue eyes slowly closed as a shudder rocked her. “I find it makes it soooo more pleasurable,” she said in a husky voice, before looking down at her “patient,” a cruel grin hidden behind her mask. “Are you ready, my specimen?”

Stacey shrieked in fear as Dr. Barbie turned and lifted a large knife usually used in autopsies. Her mask only lifted higher as she watched, playing with the blade while Stacey tried in vain to wriggle out of her bonds.

“For the love of God, BB! Stop!” shouted Ken.

Barbie paused in her play and looked up at him, her eyes narrowing. “Love? You dare use that as a shield!” She tightened her grip on the blade before making a quick slash across Stacey’s face. The poor girl screamed louder, writhing in pain. “You love is as shallow as that cut. It doesn’t give me pleasure like a deep one.”

Barbie slowly dragged the razor edge across Stacey’s sternum and down to her vaginal slit. Blood oozed up as Stacey struggled to flinch away from the burning pain, screaming at the top of her lungs. Dr. Barbie paused after completing the cut, shuddering in the beginnings of an orgasm.

Panting she asked, in a cruel kindness, “Please…Scream louder. It feels so gooooood. And the room is a full story underground and soundproofed. No one will help you.” She turned a harsh gaze to Ken. “And it reminds Ken that he’s next.”

Her sudden grin was obvious, even under the mask. The doomed man was speechless at the sight of his ex-lover, splattered in blood, staining her pure white gown as his current lover writhed in agony, fear striking deep in his heart.

Dr. Barbie begin to draw two more cuts, a curving one under Stacy’s breasts and a straight one just above her hips. Stacey’s flailing began to weaken as blood sprayed across the doctor’s pure white gown and mask. Barbie’s eyes began to dilate and her breathing quicken as she used two surgical “hooks” to tear open the two flaps of flesh, revealing the girl’s glistening organs. Moving quickly, the good doctor grabbed an electric cauterizer and stopped the major bleeders before continuing, first removing the gelatinous liver and placing it on a tray on her cart of death. Several mirrors installed in the room forced everyone present to look into the open cavity the doctor was making, as she continued to remove her kidneys and digestive system, mask wrinkling at the smell of exposed fecal matter. Stacey’s screams began to weaken as she began to go into shock. Careful not to let her pass out, she grabbed a small cube of smelling salts and taped it to the dying girl’s nose, then injected adrenaline directly into her aorta, now naked with out the protective cover or vital organs on top. Coming to her reproductive system, the tall female began again to speak again.

Cupping the small organ in her left hand, a number 12 blade scalpel in her right(the hooked kind), she pondered the mass of muscle. “Hmmm…I guess this was the reason my Ken went for you,” she commented, then turned to look into her frightened eyes. “Let’s look inside to see why.” Both female’s eyes widened, one in fear, the other in anticipation. Stacey’s screams began anew as the good doctor began to examine it, cutting into it with the scalpel and opening it all the way down the vaginal canal. “Well, not that much to see. Kind of small too. Guess Kennie likes a tight fit. Oh well, so much for that!” She separated the fist-sized piece of muscle from her body and flung it over her shoulder, where it landed with a splat in a pan she had set aside for it. “Ah good, three points! Shall we move on, my dear?’ Doc Barbie took a step closer to Stacey’s head and leaned over it, smiling again, her pupils fully dilated. “Such a beautiful face,” she caressed it with a bloodstained glove. “I know how hard it must be to keep your skin so clear and smooth. It’s a shame to see it go to waste and rot with the rest of you,” she paused and seemed to think for a moment, picking up a new scalpel, a twenty-one blade commonly used for dissection, and resting the end of the handle on her cheek. Finally deciding, her eyes narrowed in a suggestive manner. “I know. Let’s see if I can do it.”

Stacey swallowed to regain her voice, gasping weakly, “Wa-what?”

Barbie just smiled again, “Why to remove it in one piece!” Stacey started with what little strength she had left. “It’ll be difficult, and very painful, of course, but I’m willing to risk it…I mean you.” Still grinning, she began to run the sharpened edge around Stacey’s face, sometimes cutting a little too much as Stacey thrashed, but she didn’t mind, it was just practice, after all. Glancing up at Ken, she found him to be unusually still. She frowned, realizing her must have fainted. But a new idea caused her face to quickly brighten. Working quicker, she finished her gruesome task, leaving the still alive Stacey with a face that the Grim Reaper would love.

Well, she looks well prepared for her next host. She’ll be seeing him soon, after all. Barbie thought, laughing at her internal joke while Stacey continued to scream, now garbled after the good doctor had cut a little to deep and severed most of her tongue. Strolling over to her unconscious specimen, she dangled it in front of his face with one hand while waving smelling salts under his nose with the other. Ken woke with a start, only to be slammed down by his restraints. As he took notice of the gruesome sight, he began to scream, trying to turn away, only to catch sight of his new lover’s mangled visage as it tried to moan, “help me.”

Dr. Barbie only smiled wider at the panicked antics of her doomed ex. She began to speak as if to a petulant child, even shaking her finger, “Now, you shouldn’t fall asleep during your lesson, my love. You might miss something I’d like you to see. Here’s a present,” she draped the skin mask onto his chest, the mirror above reflecting the morbid sight into Ken’s face. Happy and aroused that her deed was done and successful, she returned to her first patient, who was almost ready to expire.

“Now our session is almost over, so I’ll have to hurry to finish. Do try to keep up.”

The sadistic female grabbed a new autopsy knife from the cart and quickly and deftly sliced off her breasts, enjoying the pitiful screams. Tossing them into another pan, she removed the last of the flesh above Stacey’s ribs, then lifted a small, circular saw.

“Now I couldn’t obtain the proper tools for this next part. I hope you don’t mind if I improvise,” she spoke in a deep, rich voice as she powered up the saw, gazing into Stacey’s lidless eyes. Enjoying the thrum of the power tool, she brought it to bear on Stacey’s rib cage. Blood and small pieces of bone sprayed everywhere as she sawed open her sternum. The thin bone lasted only a minute under the powerful blade. Almost reluctantly, the doctor placed the saw aside, running a blood-slicked finger along it’s metal handle before grabbing two crowbars. Using the metal hooks, Barbie pulled open Stacey’s rib cage to reveal her fluttering heart. Pausing to take in the beautiful sight of the organ of life, she almost reverently caressed the organ, which jumped up and down, almost as if struggling to escape. Tearing her eyes away from the sight, she tightened her grip to hold it and stared deep into Stacey’s rolling eyes.

She spoke in a shuddering voice, almost ready to cum, “Well now. Funny isn’t it how we attach emotions to certain organs, like love and the heart, for example. I love to play with the heart, especially of a frightened animal like you. The way it flutters shows how much fear and pain I’ve been able to induce.” She took another long look at the red organ. “It seems I’ve done a good job. Oh God!” She paused as an orgasm rocked her almost to her knees. Gathering herself up again, she apologized for the interruption. “I’m sorry for the delay. I didn’t expect it so soon. It’s been awhile since this feeling’s been so intense.” She moaned in emphasis. “This must be how Ken felt when he played with yours. We’re really not so different, the three of us. We both loved the same bastard. And both me and Ken just love to play with people’s hearts. Don’t we?”

Barbie suddenly tensed, tearing the fluttering organ from Stacey’s chest cavity. Stacey released one final scream of agony, lasting several seconds as she arched her back, gasping, before she collapsed. Meanwhile, the doctor collapsed as well, too weakened by her orgasm to stand. Barbie stayed in that position for almost a minute, just moaning, and rubbing the still beating organ against her privates. She slowly stood, rocking a little, balancing herself with her left hand on the table, now slick and warm with blood.

“Wow…” she spoke in a husky, awed voice. “That was amazing…I haven’t cum that hard in…well, I’ve never had an orgasm so intense. Not even with Ken. And he’s the most skilled I’ve had.”

The doctor tore her eyes away from the weakly throbbing organ in her gloved right hand, clutching it between her breasts. Looking up, she noticed Stacey, now a heartless bitch, was still gasping a little, alive despite being deprived of most of her organs. The cruel doctor smiled, almost shyly closing her eyes. She stuck out her left arm and picked up a new tool of pain, a high-speed power drill.

“I see you’re still alive,” she spoke, stumbling a little as she walked over the dying girl’s head. “Good, once more, then.”

She powered up the drill, reluctantly placing the still-living heart by Stacey’s ear so she could hear her last few heart beats, and lifted it. “Guess I get to penetrate you this time!” she shouted harshly, plunging the power tool down into Stacey’s still moving left eye. Moaning at the humming tool and the new sensations as it drilled into soft, then hard, then soft tissue, she pushed harder and harder till the struggles stopped, then collapsed, letting the tool clatter to the table. Again she moaned, and grabbed the heart, which was still twitching. Tearing off the bottom of the stained gown and pulling down her now blood red panties, she proceeded to fist herself with the living heart, her moans and gasps growing louder and louder as she came and came again. Only when the disembodied organ finally gave out did she stop. After resting a few minutes from such an intense session, she pulled off the remains of the gown and her limited clothing, completely soaked in Stacey’s blood. She left the clothes in a heap and discarded the used gloves on top. Then with deliberate slowness, she wheeled the squeaking cart of death over to her pale ex-lover.

“Don’t worry, Ken,” she cooed. “I won’t do you the same.”

Grabbing at any hope, Ken gasped, “You’ll spare me from the same?”

She pulled down the mask and discarded her glasses, now mounting him. He moaned and his manhood responded rapidly to her pumping. Barbie just looked into his eyes as she slowly lifted herself up and down along the organ that had given her so much pleasure. “Of course not,” she moaned. Letting him cum inside her. Smiling again, she dropped a white packet onto his breast. Opening it as she saw him grow eager in the hope of not only survival, but a hot, close encounter with her. She smiled cruelly as she drew out the contents, a pair of white, surgical gloves, thinner and longer than her last pair. As she snapped them on, she clarified her statement. “I’ve already done that. I have something entirely new for you.” As she pulled the last glove tight, she felt him tense in fear, causing her dark smile to grow. “Something far more pleasureable,” he relaxed. “For me. And far more horrible for you.” As smiled and lifted a brand new blade as he began to scream. “Now open wide!”

Several days later, in the Caribbean…

Barbie sighed, bored out of her mind. She had left on a modeling tour the afternoon after her “fun,” disposing of the remains in her supersized fireplace. She savored the memory of Ken’s last moments. She especially enjoyed how she forced him to climax, then sliced off his favorite appendage while it spasmed. For a climatic finish, she dropped the still barely alive Ken into the roaring fire, making sure to cut off his eyelids first so he could watch himself burn like the garbage he was. He had lasted nearly a full 12 hours under her knife with the help of a small pump to keep his brain alive after she tore out his heart. Though the experience was the most amazing thing she had done in her life, she now found herself with nothing and no one to do. As she pondered she came to a decision, she would find a new boytoy to occupy her for now, and if he became tiresome or tired of her, well she had just the high point to end their relationship on. Grinning at the thought of a repeat performance, she decided to start that afternoon with the ship’s personal trainer…now what was his name again?

>>9
What.

--In those times, we were so free...

--In those times, we were so unconstrained...

--In those times, we were so individualistic...

--In those times...we were...so foolish...

I look up. The sky is as dark as always.

In the distance, I see a cargo bike approaching. It seems Chris has finally returned with drinking water.

Finally. I haven't had anything to drink in hours.

I always hate riding the bike. I heard they were very popular in the past, when there were smooth roads you could ride on.

Not so much in the present. You can only ride your bike on the uneven, barren ground, no road to be found anywhere. "Waste of resources", our local government official said.

Well, it's not like I can blame him. As inconvenient as it is, he's right.

We're lucky to have one, but there are still plenty of people who don't even have a house yet.

I suppose them being able to live in something better than a tent is more important than our bike trips being fun.

"You're slow, Chris!"

The water finally arrives, bringing Chris and the bike along with it.

"Sounds like I hear a volunteer for the next trip. At least I don't break the bike."

"You're still going on about that? Well, whatever, just give me some water, I'm thirsty as hell."

I hand him both of our cups (I also brought his cup from home), and he pours water for us both.

We sit back and enjoy this small pleasure to its fullest.

--To think that only years ago, the world was completely different.

We were surrounded by luxury, and more occupied with entertaining ourselves than survival.

Cars would take us anywhere we wanted without any effort on our part.

Food could be bought in large amounts in central 'supermarkets'.

Water was directly supplied to our homes using a complicated pipe system.

One time, we had thought these luxuries would last us forever.

We were so foolish back then...

Who'd have thought...that the tragedy of the commons would ever strike so close to home...?

"Tails. I start."

My opponent says that as he takes the knife from the table.

It always sucks to be second in this game, as it gives quite a disadvantage.

The knife in my opponent's hands is clean and sharp. It's been used many times before, but is always kept in perfect condition for this game.

His hands start to move...he's going to strike, I need to focus now...

The knife comes towards me--

A warm feeling in my abdomen. And then as he pulls it out again, pain.

I fall to my knees, into a puddle of blood from the wound.

It doesn't hurt that much, but I'm bleeding badly. He got me good with that strike.

He's good. I might not be able to take a second strike like that.

Still...

I saw it. I have the advantage now. He's not going to stab me like that again.

When you're second, your first strike is already weaker than if you were to start first, as the wound prevents you from stabbing with full force.

But, if you're good enough, you can also use the fact that the opponent strikes first to your advantage.

--It was his left hand.

He stabbed me with his left hand. His left hand is his dominant hand. Without his left hand, he shouldn't be able to stab me like that--

I slowly stand up and take the now bloody knife from the table.

"Oh, you're still standing after the first hit? That's quite surprising."

"Heh. What do you take me for, some kind of newbie? Of course I'm still standing. You'll have to try better than that to win from me."

I prepare to strike.

My target--

I swing the knife--

--Left hand...!

A perfect swing! His hand is bleeding like mad, and he's holding his hand in pain. I'm definitely going to--

--"Heh."

But, a grin appears on my opponent's face.

--"Heh. Heh...heh heh heh..."

He straightens his posture and turns back to me.

As I stare with a confused face, he uses his right hand to take the knife from my hand.

"Heh, heh heh heh...you're so predictable, so predictable, too predictable. Heh."

He grips the knife in his right hand.

"Heh...want to know a fun little secret...?"

"W-what...?"

He prepares to strike--

--"I'm right-handed."

Excruciating pain. Knife. A knife. There's a knife, a knife, lodged in my body, a knife, at the same place, the same place he had stabbed me just before, the pain, the pain, theres's a knife, such force, how could he stab like that, pain, pain, excruciating pain!

My entire body stiffens, all of my limbs refuse to move, and all I feel is pain, pain, pain.

Then, he starts pulling it out.

"Aaaaaaaaarhhggh, gaaaaaaahhh..."

I fall to my knees once again, but I barely feel it anymore.

My body trembles. My blood is flowing to the ground like a waterfall. My breakfast leaves my body through the wrong exit.

I can hardly feel anything anymore. Slight pain all over my body, and I feel my body trembling. But that's it.

What...happened...?

I was...stabbed...?

With such force...? With such precision...?

How...?

My hands refuse to hold me up any longer, and my limp body falls to the ground.

Slight pain.

Trembling.

The sound of footsteps.

And then--

...

..

.

Wrote this in a /jp/ mansion thread.

--------------------------

Day 23

Ever heard of that experiment where they put subjects in a fake prison,
making them roleplay as either prisoners or guards? I've always found
it quite fascinating how people can change just like that. It's kind of
exciting. To be honest, I've always wanted to participate in an
experiment like that.

But now, all I feel is regret. Regret of leaving my old life behind.
Regret of not thinking it through properly. Regret of not ensuring there
was still a way out. Regret of the rules we made on day one. Regret...
of joining /jp/ mansion.

People change. Even if they were all nice and great people, when put in
the right situation, they change. This project failed before it even
began. Out of 9 people, there were only two people working for the
financial support of the entire mansion. Without their support, nothing

would work out in the mansion. They soon realized this, and it didn't
take longer than two days for them to change the rules. We disagreed,
naturally, but it was futile. As we are dependent on them, we couldn't
truly say no to them. I don't know when it happened, but at some point
they started to become really close to the head of the mansion, and soon
after, the head also looked down on us. They were three, and we were
six. Yet, despite that, they have complete control over us.

It started gradually. We were occasionally given sudden tasks the
workers or the head was supposed to do, but which they decided were not
interesting enough for them to do. Boring tasks that we had decided
would be divided among the residents. By day three, only the six of us
were doing all of the tasks inside the mansion. Then, on the fourth day,
news reached us that the mansion's funds were used by the workers and
the head for their personal matters. The workers already had their own
salaries, only having to give a portion of their salaries to the mansion
funds, but now they were also using the money reserved for the
mansion. But it got worse.

Our maid quickly got tired of serving those ungrateful bastards and
wanted to switch with someone else. On day 5, he was called to the
head's room. We tried to ask him many times, but he never spoke of what
happened in that room on that day. Ever since then, every 5 days, one
of us six is chosen to be the new maid. And at the end of each of those
5 days, the maid is called to the head's room, and never again speaks
of what happens there. Whatever it is they are doing there, I doubt
pleasure is the reason they're doing it. It's all about the humiliation.
Most likely, they call us there just to show us our place. To instill
fear into us so we will follow their demands without a single complaint.
In three days, it will be my turn to be the maid. I don't know what they
do in the head's room. I don't want to know. But I fear it. I'm afraid
of what they'll do to me. I'm afraid...

They've locked all the doors. Security measures, they say. Only the
workers and the head have the keys to get out of the mansion. Just the
other day, Mike tried to run away when the door was left open for a
while. But the entire area around this place is deserted, and there
wasn't anywhere to run. As the workers and the head have access to the
two cars, and Mike could only run on foot, he was soon found and brought
back. As punishment, he was called to the head's room. Nobody knows what
they did to him, but he came back with bruises all over his body and
he has been silent ever since. And it's not just locking the doors
leading outside. When we disobey our masters (we have been forced to
address them as 'master' now), we are locked in our rooms with the power
cut for 24 hours. As we are only allowed to have a computer and a bed in
our rooms, there's nothing to do, and the place feels like a prison.
Except that in a prison you get meals thrice a day. When we get the
'room punishment' (as they have dubbed it), we are left without food for
24 hours. It's not just for disobeying either. Anything that displeases
them results in punishment. Making too much noise, punishment. Not
eating your food quickly enough, punishment. They even gave one of us
another room punishment directly after the first, just for the hell of
it. 48 hours in a dark room without any food. And they're monitoring our
internet. Sure, we have internet in here, but if we do or say anything
that displeases them on there, we are punished. I'm writing this on
paper right now, as they even search our HDDs for anything they don't
like and punish us for it. They found and erased the first seven days
of my diary, and I was given a room punishment for it.

I want to leave this place. I want to go home, but I have no home to
return to. I abandoned everything to join this mansion, and now, I'm
without a means to escape this hell. They are the guards. We are the
prisoners. But there is nobody supervising this experiment. We don't
have the option to quit. Nobody will step in to interrupt. We are alone,
stuck in a mansion in the middle of nowhere, receiving more and more
abuse with no choice but to endure. This is just like that prison
experiment. They are the guards. We are the prisoners. But this
experiment...goes on forever.