100% Free, No Credit Cards or 'Free Signups' required, New Content Daily!
Over 1750 Stories and Thousands of Free Video and Image Galleries

Foxhunt
  • Author - Hephaistos  
  • Rating -   
  • Site Rank - 2155 of 2723
  • Unique Views - 7646
  • Story Codes - M-f, non-consensual, bodymod, bondage, extreme, humiliation, kidnapping, slavery
  • Post Date - 3/5/2019
  • PDF Download -
Rate This Story
Outstanding
Pretty Good
Average/OK
Could be Better
Hated It

 
Reader's Comments (4)

Chapter 1

Violetta met Kevin at one of her father's many business parties, and immediately took an interest in the boy. He was handsome, somewhat well-built, and had an impish smile that told her that he was used to getting his way. Her eyes narrowed, and she began slinking through the party in her sparkling green cocktail dress, pacing behind him, watching his every move.

The sensual world of BDSM

Violetta was also used to getting her way. She was tall, pale, and bore herself with a regal authority that brooked no protest or dissent. Her vivid gold-and-copper hair flowed down her back to her knees, contrasting against the sage green of the dress to frame her nearly-impossible curves just so. Violetta used her body as both lure and weapon, and tonight Kevin was going to be her prey.

A few conversations with other people told her everything she needed to know. He was a young vice president in charge of research, recently promoted from a biotechnology lab where he had made several important breakthroughs. This was no born-and-bred executive, then; Kevin was a mere scientist. Breaking him would be easy.

She stepped into his field of view and leaned against the cocktail table, and caught his eye within seconds. Just as she anticipated, he eagerly crossed the room to her side when she made eye contact with him, fumbling adorably through the facade of pouring himself a drink. The small talk she hooked him with was droll and tedious; she barely registered the words that were coming out of her own mouth.

By midnight she had him. His hand was resting against the crest of her hip as they danced the tango across the ballroom floor, and she felt his anticipation stirring when she leaned in and whispered into his ear that they should find a hotel room and get to know each other better. Soon she had him tied to the hotel room bed, stripped naked and covered in scratches and welts from the pretty little ostrich-skin flogger her first conquest had bought for her in Johannesburg. She grinned wickedly and pulled out her camera, and began snapping pictures.

By morning he was ruined. Every one of his superiors had received the photographs, sent from his own phone. There was no possibility of recovering his career, and no way to blame her for it without bringing down the wrath of her father. Another pretty young thing had sought to be worthy of her, even for a moment, and learned the price of arrogance. She sighed and ordered her breakfast, disappointed in how quickly the thrill of conquest faded.

She was quite surprised, seven months and twelve such conquests later, to wake up groggy in a dark room, with Kevin's face staring down at her. He looked haggard and disheveled, but it was definitely him. He smiled softly and leaned down to kiss her lips. She snarled and reached up to slap at him, only to discover that her arm ended neatly just above the elbow, in a smooth round stump covered in bandages. She opened her mouth to scream, but the sound was strangely muffled. He smiled wider, and began petting her long hair as she thrashed violently on the bed.

She tried to scream curses and demands at him, but nothing but muffled whining sounds came out. She tried to claw and kick, but her arms and legs had been trimmed down to mere twelve-inch stubs. Finally, bereft of anything else to do, she laid back on the bed and sobbed terrified, bitter tears, convulsively shivering in sheer terror, rage and frustration.

He looked down at her and sighed. "Your father always knew you were responsible for my dismissal. This entire facility is staffed by people you've ruined. Some of them were actually happy to do this to you. I didn't have any choice... after what you did, my life was pretty much over. Your father thinks that the project I was heading when you got me fired is worth billions of dollars, though. He brought us both here."

Violetta barely heard what he was saying. She was too absorbed in the enormity of what was happening to her. She sobbed and shook as he slowly unwrapped her bandages, occasionally making muffled moaning sounds. He continued talking over her.

"I've found a way to spontaneously regrow tissue. Limbs, organs, anything. For what you did to his company, your father is making you the first test subject. Like it or not, we have to work together to get out of here."

She blinked and looked up at him, trying to take in what he was saying to her. Then she tried to brush her hair from her face, remembered that she had no hands, and began shivering and sobbing again. He frowned and left her alone in the dark of her room.

It was many long hours before she got herself together enough to try to move. Finally, she managed to sit up and take a full inventory of herself. Her arms and legs ended just above the elbows and knees, in perfectly round, smooth, scarless stumps. Someone had decided that her figure wasn't impressive enough, and had augmented her breasts until they reached out very nearly as far as her arms did. Her view of her body below her shoulder-blades consisted of nothing more than two enormous spheres of flesh, and occasionally the nub of an arm or leg waving out to the side if she stretched sufficiently.

A lifetime of gymnastics and ballet training gave her the flexibility to climb out of the bed and crawl out of the room. The next room was a large, luxurious bathroom, with a walk-in shower, a japanese-style toilet and a floor-to-ceiling mirror. She stopped in front of it, and stared in horror and wonder at the full extent of the damage done.

Her nipples barely brushed the floor between her arms, and below the almost spherical globes of her breasts, her ribs and waist tapered until they were no bigger around than her thigh. Her lips looked slightly swollen, and when she opened her mouth again she saw that she had no teeth or gums at all - and that the her tongue had somehow been fused into her cheeks and bottom lip. She sat down on her ass and began sobbing and convulsing again, until she finally exhausted herself and fell asleep on the bathroom floor.

She woke up the next morning with a hideous sense of discomfort and violation. She was laying on her stomach in bed, her pillow propped beneath her waist to keep her breasts from twisting her back up. A long, metal tube was snaking into her ass from a piece of machinery next to the bed, and from the sensations inside her it twisted its way all the way up into her lower chest. She sobbed and screamed, and began thrashing and swatting at it futilely with the ends of her stumps.

The orderly attending the machine smirked and held her down by the neck with one hand, and caressed her ass with the other. "Sorry, honey. This is how you eat until the doctor grows you a new stomach." Her eyes widened, and she began grunting and screaming in protest. She arched her back into a competition-perfect scorpion, gripped the tube with the ends of both arms, and began thrashing and pulling. The orderly sighed and held her down, and called for help on his handheld.

Soon she was trussed up in something like a monoglove, but shortened to accommodate what was left of her arms. The straps criss-crossed into a matching posture collar, which buckled down into a matching corset, with a strap through the ass and crotch that held the feeding-tube securely in place, along with a massive jelly dildo inside her vagina. A pair of boot-like sleeves were laced over her legs, each ending in a round rubber pad, like you would expect to find under the leg of a heavy piece of furniture. The corset made her look even more striking - cinched down, her waist couldn't have been wider around than her neck.

She spent the next four hours learning to waddle around like that, standing on the ends of her legs and 'walking' on the floor with the damned tube dragging along behind her. Eventually, the feeding-tube was removed and she was taken into the bathroom and cleaned off - and then the orderlies put her back into the corset and monoglove, and proceeded to rape her ass and mouth violently in the shower. She screamed and thrashed against them the whole while, her wet hair tracing swirling patterns against the floor around the drain, but her struggling only seemed to excite them more.

Then she was brought into another room, decked out much like a giant gymnasium. She spent the next several hours having her movement and balance appraised and corrected by the coach that had taught her gymnastics as a child. Once he was sufficiently satisfied with her performance, a pair of stiff prosthetic legs were attached to screw-holes inside the rubber pads, and she was stood up on something that looked roughly like human legs again - but with the ankles tapering down into crutch-like pegs, instead of widening out again into feet. The rest of the day was spent learning to walk in them, and then the feeding-tube was shoved back up her ass by the orderlies, the lights were turned off, and she was left in the middle of the room to sob herself to sleep.

She awoke feeling feverish and sore, and soon discovered that her breasts had become significantly larger over the night. The feeding-tube was still inside her, and she whined and tugged at it with her sphincter-muscles to no avail. She dragged herself onto her pegs and practiced her walk until she could compensate perfectly for the extra weight, only to discover that they were still growing - and almost noticeably - as she moved about. By the clock on the wall and the mirror in front of her, she guessed she was growing roughly one cup size every two hours.

The next three weeks, the feeding-tube never came out. The orderlies stripped, bathed and re-clothed her regularly - violently having their way with her each time - but the tube seemed to be taking care of both feeding and waste. Whenever she tried to attack the tube or the machinery it was attached to with her pegs, she found herself legless and chained to the floor for the next day, and the pressure inside the tube turned up to a nearly unbearable intensity. Then the orderlies would spend several hours raping the fight out of her, clean her up in the shower, and bring her back to the gymnasium for rehabilitation.

By the end of the third week, her breasts were easily each the size of the entire rest of her body. She had to fold at the waist and arch her back to let them rest on the ground; there was simply no other way to let her peg-legs find purchase on the tile at all. She grunted and screamed at the weight every time she had to drag her pendulous bulk across the floor, in response to her coach's directions. When she refused to budge, he whipped her until she cried, and then the orderlies had their way with her.

Finally, Kevin came back in. He looked genuinely distraught, and petted her hair with something that approached actual tenderness. That last moment was too much. She broke down sobbing, nuzzling her cheek against his hand and then against his crotch, desperately wanting to give him the only thing that her nearly-broken mind understood he could want. He knelt down and kissed her lips tenderly, then injected her shoulder with a hypodermic.

She woke up some time later, naked again - and with her breasts returned to almost normal size. She got up onto all fours, and sighed with satisfaction when they hung an inch above the floor, even without her straining her shoulders forward to reach past them. She went through a morning yoga routine to limber up, then romped around the gymnasium until she was too tired to move.

Her coach stood in the corner, clapping slowly. She had no idea how long he'd been standing there, but the sight of him filled her with rage - and she dove at him with a summersault. She connected, and knocked him back into the gym equipment. He screamed, and the orderlies rushed in to pull her off of him.

Several agonizing hours later, the orderlies finished their lesson, and her coach leaned forward, hissing his words like acid. "You're clearly in better health, and you obviously want out of here. I'm going to give you a chance." He slapped the posture-collar around her neck, then clipped on a leash and started dragging her along like a dog. She instinctively started pedaling her limbs to keep up, then dug in and sat down. He glared, then had an orderly pick her up and carry her with him down a long corridor. He opened the door at the end, and bright sunlight flooded her vision.

Outside was a half mile of open meadow, and then a copse of trees and a stream. The orderly sat her down in a clover field and removed her collar, and she immediately rolled over on her back, exulting in the feel of the grass and clover against her skin. The coach leaned forward and smirked. "Tomorrow morning, we're going to have ourselves a little fox-hunt. You have until then to find your way to civilization."



( link opens in new window )

Violetta whimpered and rolled back onto her stomach, then picked herself up onto all fours and began bounding down the meadow, towards the creek. She began slowing down as she reached the shade of a small oak tree, feeling slightly dizzy and out of breath from the exertion. She looked across the meadow to the creek, frowning when she realized that she had just as far to go to reach the creek as she had run to the tree already. This was going to be harder than she thought.

She stretched out her body under the tree and rolled over onto her back again, gazing up through the branches at the vivid blue sky. Somewhere near the top of the tree, there was something moving: a squirrel or a bird was merrily going about its business, oblivious to her plight below. Her insides felt light and fluttery, and her lips felt slightly parched. After allowing herself to rest for what felt like another few minutes, she rolled back onto all fours again, then struggled with her arm stumps to brush her hair out of her face and tease out a few of the larger leaves that had manage to get caught in it. Then, much more slowly and less optimistically, she began crawling her way to the creek.

When she finally reached the banks, she squelched the ends of all four stumps into the mud and slid carefully down so that she was halfway in the water. Then, completely involuntarily, she plunged her face into the stream and began greedily gulping down as much as her mouth could suck. She was thirsty. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered that this was a bad idea - that she could get horribly sick from drinking water from a stream like this - but she didn't care. She desperately needed water, and she needed it now. She would drink herself until her stomach filled nearly to bursting, and then lay down next to the bank and catch her breath.

Except, no matter how much she drank, she wasn't filling up. She whined desperately as she realized that every time she took a gulp, she felt warm fluid leaking out of her ass. She looked down between her legs, and saw that what was pouring out was clear water, the same that was coming in. Suddenly, she remembered what one of the orderlies had told her: she didn't have a stomach.

She whined and clamped her ass-cheeks together as tightly as she could, trying desperately to hold the water in so she could drink it. After a few more minutes of gulping down water from the stream, she finally felt less thirsty, and dragged herself back out of the water. She flopped down, exhausted, on a large, flat rock.

Tomorrow morning.

She had to crawl herself out of here before sunrise tomorrow, or she would be hunted down like an animal and... what? What would they do to her if they caught her? Kill her? Let hunting-dogs rip her apart? Her father wouldn't allow that. Even if he no longer cared about her as his daughter, even if he had abandoned her completely, he had still invested billions of dollars into whatever these men were doing to her, and he was not the kind of man who would allow that kind of investment to go to waste.

Tomorrow morning was a long way away. In the meantime, she was naked, she was helpless, she was hungry, she was dead tired, and she had no idea where she was. The ends of her arm and leg stubs were covered with tiny bruises and lacerations, and embedded with tiny bits of sand and grass. She spent a few minutes gently rubbing and wiping them until they were as clean as she could manage, then began practicing yoga stretches on top of the rock to clear her mind and think.

The creek.

The creek had to go somewhere. If she followed it downstream, she would eventually reach some kind of civilization, she was sure of it. She would keep going until she found a farmer, or a road, or something, and then someone would take her to a police station and she would find a way to tell them what had happened.

But what then? She was missing her tongue, her teeth, her limbs, and several internal organs. Could she even survive outside this facility? She closed her eyes and imagined going back, dejected, and having that goddamned tube shoved up her ass again. And again and again, every day for the rest of her miserable life. Fine then. She might starve to death, but her father and all those men would pay.

She got up onto all fours, stumbled once, and then trudged along the grassy side of the bank, following the flow of the river until sunset. As the sky turned to deep oranges and purples behind her, her vision began to swim, and she suddenly realized how intensely dizzy and tired she felt. She shook her head and stood back up, but her hair caught on the branches of a small bush beside the stream, and she tripped and fell into the water.

She growled and thrashed her way out of the creek, finally dragging herself up onto the bank and flopping down next to the bush. It took her several minutes to tease her hair out of the bush with her lips in the twilight, and several more to tease the broken-off leaves and twigs out of her hair. She growled, limped back into the creek, and wriggled herself back up on all fours to rinse the smeared mud off of her body and out of her hair.

She dragged herself up onto a patch of grass and closed her eyes again, thinking. Her hair trailed off behind her further even than the ends of her legs, lying flat. It was going to get caught on everything unless she did something about it. She sat up and began trying to smooth her hair with her arm stubs, while 'combing' small bits of it with her lips, but it was slow, hard work. After an hour of grooming, her hair was finally smooth enough again that she could tease it apart into three large locks with her arms, hold them in place with her legs, and then use her mouth and arms to braid them roughly together into a single, thick braid. Halfway down, she tied off the braid and let the knot dangle against the small of her back.

Light and sound exploded into her awareness a moment later. She was scrambling on all fours in the grass, the sun was rising in front of her, and behind her a horn was blowing.

She had fallen asleep.

She listened to the sound of the horn as it blew a second time, and then heard the baying of dogs and felt a rumbling of horse hooves. They were hunting her. She bolted upright and began scampering along the creek bed, trying to keep purchase with her stumps on the muddy bank. A moment later, a pack of dogs rushed over the rolling hill behind her, splashing through the water as they raced each other to reach her first. She turned and began scrambling up the side of the embankment, then rushed down the other side at the closest thing to a gallop that her limbs could manage. She raced ahead, fixing her eyes on a small copse of trees and shrubbery in the distance, the dogs running happily alongside her to her left and right. She made it into the bushes and tumbled through, scrambling through the underbrush in a desperate attempt to out-squirm the dogs.

She finally wormed her way out of the brush into a clearing, only to find three of the dogs waiting for her. She twisted her body left and bolted, as hard and fast as she could, back into the deeper underbrush on the other side of the clearing. She just made it as the dogs reached her again, baying and nipping at her leg stumps while she wriggled her way deeper into the bushes.

The next several minutes were a confused blur of tangled branches, leaves, barking dogs, and pain. The underbrush became too dense to squirm through, and finally she had to scramble upwards and over, tumbling out of the brush and back into the open green field.

She lay on her back, sobbing and gasping, trying to will herself to get back up and start running. The dogs would be here any second. She had to run. Finally, after agonizing seconds, she managed to right herself again and began bolting southwards down the hill-slope, the sound of the dogs getting louder behind her. Then, just as she thought she might outrun the dogs, her hair snapped taut and her neck whipped back and to the right, throwing her onto the ground. She whined and glanced backwards to see her hair wound tightly around a root sticking up out of the ground.

The dogs surrounded her quickly. She rolled onto her back and sobbed as one of them placed its jaws firmly around her throat and growled. She went limp and sobbed as the other dogs sniffed and licked at her belly and thighs.

It was Kevin that picked her up, brushed the thorns and twigs out of her hair and skin, and carried her through the bushes and back into the sunlight. She whimpered and curled up in his arms as she looked out onto the field from his height. From merely three feet higher up, she could see that she had never gone more than a half a mile from the facility. She sobbed quietly the whole way back, struggling only when the orderlies shoved a tube down her mouth and squirted water all the way through her, then forced the god-awful feeding tube back up her ass.

She had no idea how long she had been asleep, but her cuts and scrapes had healed by the time she woke up in the gymnasium again. She stared at the long tresses of her hair, and suddenly realized... it's a lot longer than it was when I got here. How long have I been here? She whimpered, using the ribbed segments of the feeding-tube as a sort of crude measuring tape as she smoothed her hair out behind her. Her hair was at least a foot longer than she remembered it... how long had she been here?

She poured herself into her yoga routine to calm herself. As she worked through it, the thought occurred to her that something besides her hair felt different. She arched her back and entered the best cobra she could manage, then realized: her arms were longer. She did a few kicks and confirmed that her legs were longer, too. During the time she had been asleep, all four of her limb bones had grown out to nearly the original lengths of her elbows and knees. She sat marveling at the miracle of it as the coach came in.

He began shouting at her immediately. Not wanting to provoke any further violence, she complied to the best of her ability, working through an intense gymnastic training regimen that left her exhausted before the shadows had finished shifting to the other side of the gym. She was left to pant herself to sleep in the middle of the gymnasium, and awoke the next morning to the sensation of two orderlies fitting her with new prosthetic legs and a new monoglove.

The next week was spent learning to walk on her new prosthetics. With more leg muscles to work with, she found she could move much more confidently and precisely, and by the end of the week she had almost perfected a sexy catwalk saunter, each peg-tip clicking softy onto the ground directly in front of the other. She was rewarded for her efforts by waking up the next morning with a series of needles piercing the undersides of her immensely swollen breasts, slowly dripping fluid into them.

She nearly began sobbing again, but the look on the orderlies' faces told her that they would enjoy that too much, so she maintained her dignity and her composure as she spent the next week practicing and refining her walk with the added weight. Her breasts, of course, continued to balloon absurdly. By the week's end they once again resembled giant, fleshy beach-balls, swaying and bouncing painfully with each mincing step that she took. When one of the orderlies laughed at her awkwardness as she fell, she lashed out in a rage and knocked him flat with her breasts, then sat on him until he began to smother. Three other orderlies had to pull her off of him, and all four spent the entire next day punishing her violently for the assault.

The next week, she once again reached the point where no amount of strength or balance training could keep her upright. The monoglove was removed, and a pair of long arm-pegs were strapped onto her forelimbs so she could wander the gymnasium on all fours like a cow. Even so, she could not manage to arch her back enough to keep the tips of her nipples from dragging the ground, and in fact by the end of the week she had given up on ambulation altogether, laying on top of the giant mounds of her breasts as if they were a pair of bean-bags and grunting while the feeding-tube squirmed inside of her.

She awoke the next week with normal-sized breasts again, and fresh bandages wrapped around the ends of all four of her limbs. Kevin was smiling down at her, stroking her cheek.

"Good news. We've finally extracted enough cells to begin regrowing your limbs. We're going to keep you asleep through the procedure... when you wake up, we'll see how we did." She blinked up at him, whining and mumbling incoherently, as the room began to swim and blur.

She bolted awake when someone softly touched her cheek. She looked around for the orderly, then squinted down at the hand that was clearly sprouting from the end of her own, fully-formed arm. She spent a few clumsy minutes fumbling with the bedsheets, then finally managed to pull them off and reveal two perfect legs. She laughed with joy, then rolled her new tongue around the inside of her mouth. Everything felt weird.



( link opens in new window )

She stumbled out of bed, then spent several minutes regaining her feet. She staggered clumsily to the bathroom to look at herself.

There were a few obvious differences. Her new arms and legs had no fingernails or toenails, and no fingerprints. Her new mouth had no teeth. But everything worked. She suddenly felt the crushing reality of where she was descend upon her, and looked around desperately for something to use as a weapon. I'm getting out of here.

She was still looking when two orderlies came in, held her down, and had their way with her. The entire next day was spent becoming violently acquainted with every member of the facility staff, and only when the staff psychiatrist was satisfied that all desire to fight back had been purged from her was she allowed to return to her bed.

The sensation of digesting food again was bizarre. Her stomach lurched almost as violently as if the tube was inside it, but there was no comforting fullness. She threw up everything she was eating several times, before she finally managed to hold down some chicken soup and jello.

Kevin arrived.

He shooed the orderlies out of the room, then leaned close to her ear and nibbled on it. She clenched her fists, wanting desperately to claw, to bite, to do something to cause him pain. He whispered quietly into her ear.

"I'm going to get you out of here in a month. Work with the coach so you're ready."

She swallowed her rage and nodded slightly, then he pulled away and walked back out. She began braiding her hair to give herself time to think, but her thoughts scattered as she realized that the braid extended almost a yard past her feet. How long had she been here? She was broken from her stunned reverie by the arrival of the coach and two leering orderlies.

The next three weeks were spent re-learning to use her limbs gracefully. She caught up quickly enough, pushing herself to the peak of her healthy performance by the end of her recuperation. Her new limbs were slightly weaker, but far more flexible and supple than her old. Regaining her own gymnastic ability required constant effort and sweat.

The next day, she awoke to discover all the doors in the facility open, and the facility abandoned. She wandered empty halls for nearly an hour, puzzled, until she reached the long corridor that led to the door outside. She pushed the door open and blinked as sunlight flooded her vision.

Her newly-toned legs broke into a run. She sprinted as fast as she could towards the stream that cut through meadow, her hair trailing out behind her in whips, tears streaming past her cheeks. As her feet splashed in the stream, the sound of a hunting-horn broke the silence of the morning, followed by the baying of dogs.

She ran at top speed down the riverbank, but it was no use. A soft whistling sound filled her ears, and suddenly both her ankles snapped together painfully, plunging her face-first into the river. A bola had wrapped around both ankles, and as she fidgeted in the ice-cold water to untangle it, the dogs were upon her.

A man sat tall in the saddle of the nearest horse, backlit by the sun. He lifted his hands, and a sharp pain filled her shoulder. She looked down to see a tranquilizer dart sticking out between her neck and her collarbone, then fell forward as her vision faded to black.

When she awoke with the feeding tube up her ass again, her tongue gone, and all four of her limbs cut down to twelve inch stubs, part of her wondered if the entire last month had been a dream. She sobbed and grunted as the tube pulsed inside her, then dragged herself out of the bed and into the bathroom.

Her braided hair trailed behind her all the way into the bedroom, coils of it still sitting on the bed. She stared in disbelief at the length of it, as the coach and Kevin came back into the room. Kevin looked pained and tired; the coach looked sadistically mirthful.

The coach smiled at Kevin. "See? I told you there'd be no damage."

She looked up, pleadingly, into Kevin's eyes. She tried desperately to say something, anything, but all that came out were muffled whining sounds. She curled up on the floor, and began hyperventilating from panic.

Someone walked in behind the coach and Kevin. She stared up through tear-blurred eyes, squinting to make out his face. But when he spoke, the voice was unmistakable: her father.

"Well, congratulations, Mr. Dorsey. You seem to have succeeded this time. We should have enough data to go to market within five years. Welcome back to the company."

"Thank you, Mr. O'Hare. What do you want done with your daughter, now that the trials are over?"

"You're going to keep her, boy. You're going to take her somewhere private, and you're going to keep her safely out of sight. I don't want her causing this company any more damage."

"Y- yes, sir. I will, sir."

"I know you will. I'll see you at work in the morning, in New York."

"Thank you again, sir."


Click Here to signup for updates to this story!


Comments? Post them here!


URL Link: Suggest Tags:

Rate This Story
Outstanding
Pretty Good
Average/OK
Could be Better
Hated It

 
Please support the author by leaving your own feedback on the story, good or bad.
Be constructive in your comments and email the author directly with
spelling and grammatical errors. Thank you!

While we try our best to only post stories that meet our guidelines, occasionally one will slip through. These include stories that feature (but not limited to) murder, violent snuff, and under-age characters. If you feel this story needs to be re-evaluated you can report it here.

Sunday, March 24, 2019  

Iím not sure about this one. I normally hate this sort of stuff - I donít watch this sort of horror film either. I almost stopped reading and then you introduced the concept of reversing the process - essentially s he was in a form of bondage and thatís something I like. I particularly like to explore the way women adapt to their bondage and I liked the way you did this, particularly the obvious animal-like imagery of her using her mouth to clean herself and braid her hair when she was being hunted.

Friday, March 22, 2019  

Any continence??

Wednesday, March 20, 2019  

What the fuck? Someone read I had No Mouth And I Must Scream and thought ďoh this could be sexierĒ?

Tuesday, March 19, 2019  

A very novel story.


Home     FAQ     Stories     Links     Search     Galleries     Features     Forum     Contact


Copyright ©2004-2019 UtopiaStories.com. All rights reserved.
Stories are copyrighted by the respective authors. Duplication of any kind is prohibited without consent.

18 U.S.C. 2257 Record-Keeping Requirements Compliance Statement